Florence and Rome

Florence | Come si dice, “Can we stay longer?”

Venice was such a unique and beautiful city but I never felt a connection to it. As soon as we arrived in Tuscany, however, I felt at home. In every direction we were surrounded by lush greenery and rolling hills, complemented by the tranquil sounds of nature—its beauty was undeniable. And it just resonated with me immediately. It was the first time in our travels that time slowed down and I was able to really reflect on this incredible life that we are living. With one glance at this landscape, I felt excited, content, calm, and completely free.

We stayed in a small (really small) village called San Donato in Collina, which is a 35-minute bus ride to the city. Life is simple there. There is the village butcher (apparently the best in the region, but we wouldn’t know because it seemed as though it was never open), a market, corner store, bakery, local bar, one restaurant, and a church (there’s always a church). Everything—as is true with almost all of Italy—is closed from 12-5 for lunch…and then every Sunday, first Monday of the month, every other Wednesday… or at least, that’s how it seemed.

Our Airbnb was a small home—complete with a yard, herb garden, back deck…and a lingering cat or two—next to an old farmhouse that looked more like a castle. Our host lived in the farmhouse with her husband and children, which has been passed down through generations and is still occupied by all family heirs. In addition to our cozy little pad, which we found out was once the laundry room for the entire farm, there are two other mini apartments rented out to guests. (On our first night, we befriended an Australian couple around our age that were renting out one of the apartments… for an entire month. Cue insane jealousy.)

Because a lot of museums in Florence are closed on Mondays, our first full day in Tuscany was spent in the countryside. We had a leisurely morning. Our host had recommended a few hikes, so we set out to find one of the trails. And then after an hour of walking up and down the same street so many times that eventually the dogs just stopped barking at us when we walked by, we threw in the towel on the hike. We worked up an appetite from all the frustration of not being able to find that stupid left turn, so we retreated to our tranquil haven and found our Zen again as we enjoyed an alfresco breakfast on our back deck.

Our next (and only) activity for the day was a winery tour at Ruffino, which is most renowned for its Chianti and Chianti Classico. Fun fact #1: In 1890, Ruffino became the official supplier to the Italian royal family (13 years after it was founded). Fun fact #2: It exported the first Chianti to the United States. Today, Ruffino owns vineyard estates in Tuscany’s most important fine wine appellations (2,764 total acres of which 952 are vineyards).

At this point, we’ve been to six vineyards (three in Provence, two in Champagne, and now one in Tuscany). And while its hard to compete with the wine and the rich history, good old Charlottesville, Virginia has my vote when it comes to overall ambiance. Each vineyard we’ve been to in Europe has put very little emphasis into its tastings rooms—we’ve tasted wine at a cluttered front desk in the lobby—which I can respect, because it is just about tasting the wine after all so of course you pour your time, money, and resources into making the wine great. With that said, for me, it is about the experience and not just about the wine. So, even though Ruffino provided us a table fit for kings in a 14th-century villa, we still felt it was missing the lively atmosphere we’ve become accustomed to from visiting vineyards in Charlottesville.

Tuesday was our one day in the city. I know, one day is definitely not enough time to explore a city like Florence—especially because we scheduled a cooking class that evening back in the village we were staying in—but, we were determined to see as much as we could. After all, this wasn’t our first rodeo. Monday night, we mapped out what we needed to see and made a call on what we could forego. As I’m sure you have picked up by now, we don’t plan ahead. So, trying to reserve tickets for the Accademia Gallery (AKA, Michelangelo’s David) was not possible—all sold out. Our only option was to wait in line. The museum opened at 8:15, so we caught the 6:55 bus and were in line by 7:45. I’m never on time for anything, so to be early enough where we were 9th and 10th in line was one of my more impressive moments. AND we came prepared with our free Rick Steve’s tour of the museum downloaded. (This is how we’ll tour all museums moving forward, it’s the way to go.) Once the museum opened, we were in and out in 45 minutes. (We later learned that only a couple hours after opening, the wait was three hours). I didn’t expect to be that impressed with David, but it was hard not to be. I mean, for being over 500-years-old, he’s looking pretty good for his age. ;) Anyway, by the time we were leaving the museum, it was almost impossible to navigate our way through the crowds, so as long as you’re willing to get up early, I’d recommend doing it our way: no plan, no line, no problem.

Well, we didn’t have the same luck at the Duomo. We still had an hour before it opened, but the line was already super long. We couldn’t bring ourselves to wait in line just yet, so we went to check out Giotto’s Campanile (bell tower), which had no line. And that might have had something to do with the fact that it’s over 400 steps to the top via a very narrow staircase. Because we did no research, we did not know this, and so we started climbing… and climbing… and more climbing… and finally found ourselves at the very top rewarded with panoramic views of the city and the Duomo.

And now we had to face our worst nightmare: waiting in line with the rest of the tourists. The line at the Duomo moved along quickly, but it still took an hour. Yep, that’s how far back we were. Was it worth it? Yes, because we can say that we did it. No, because the interior was just a liiiiittle underwhelming in comparison to the exterior… probably because the exterior is so awe-inspiring that it looks fake. Over 89,000-square-feet of white, pink, and green marble—it really pops in a city of all earth tones. It towers over Florence like a pop-up illustration in a pop-up book.

We spent our afternoon walking all over the city. We passed over the Arno River via Ponte Vecchio, took in vistas from San Miniato al Monte and Piazzale Michelangelo, and eventually made our way back up to our Tuscan retreat with enough time to freshen up for our cooking class.

I still dream about the food from this cooking class and—true story—am currently salivating as I begin to write this. It was just us and one other couple, making ravioli and tagliatelle from scratch in our cooking instructor’s home. Afterward, while we waited for the instructor’s husband to cook our pasta, we indulged in bruschetta made with homemade bread, fresh tomatoes, and olive oil from the family’s olive trees. I mean, does it get more authentic than that?

Our ravioli, stuffed with ricotta and spinach—which we learned is the only way they prefer to make it in Florence—was served with a butter and sage sauce with a little orange zest, while our tagliatelle was with a red sauce made from fresh tomatoes and a little garlic. Italians prefer fresh, simple, local ingredients and waste nothing. What we learned here, and experienced throughout our travels all over Italy, is that Italians have such an interest in each ingredient and where it was grown. Lemons from the Amalfi Coast or chili peppers from Calabria… they have an appreciation for all regions of Italy because of the resources each provides. The country is united through their love of food. (Especially pasta—no matter where we went, the meal always seemed to start with pasta.)

If their love and appreciation for food is not inherited, it’s taught at a very early age. While proudly devouring our freshly made pasta, we learned of their children’s school lunches. At this particular school, for an additional €5 per child per day (or less, depending on income), their children were fed a gourmet three-course lunch every day. This way, every child was guaranteed a well-balanced meal, they were introduced to different foods (and didn’t make a fuss about eating it because their friends were eating it, too), and they were not allowed to waste any of it. (As you can imagine, when they learned of a typical U.S. school lunch, they were appalled.)

An appetizer, two plates of pasta, dessert, wine, and hours of good conversation later, we left feeling completely satisfied, but not overly full because the ingredients were simple and fresh.

Our time in Tuscany came to an end and it genuinely hurt to leave a place I felt I could have stayed forever, but no time to dwell on that because we were hopping on a train to Rome for exactly 19 hours as a quick pitstop to pick up a car and make our way further south.

Pit of Florence: I don’t live there.

Peak of Florence: Our cooking class is a very close second here, but nothing could taste as good as I felt with one look at those views from our home. Nothing.

Rome | Come si dice, “Open the doors!”

19 hours in Rome quickly dwindled to 18 when Mike and I prematurely got off the train one stop before Rome. As the train pulled in to what we thought was Rome, we took our time to gather our luggage, thinking it was the final stop. As soon as I got off the train, I turned back to watch the train doors close in front of Mike’s face. And now Mike is on the train, and I’m on the platform, and we stare at each other for a few seconds… before I enter full panic mode (very logically) thinking I may never see him again and proceed to chase down a conductor shouting “open the doors!” Meanwhile, Mike calmly assesses the situation, walks to the next car, and nonchalantly gets off the train like the drama queen he is. We reunited with relief, I mean, who knows where that train was going next! Well, turns out, that train was going to Rome next. Womp, womp. Thankfully, an easy subway ride got us there in no time.

We dropped our stuff off in our rented room and quickly mapped out our afternoon/night. We walked to the Colosseum (right next to the apartment), continued onward to Il Vittoriano for some views, the Trevi Fountain for a quick coin toss, and the Pantheon, before hopping on a bus to the Vatican. Unfortunately, the Sistine Chapel was closed, but we did make it into St. Peter’s Basilica and walked around in amazement. It was so impressive.

We continued on with our plan and began making our way to Trastevere for dinner. I’m not sure what happened, but we found ourselves on a narrow two-lane road with no sidewalks, much further from Trastevere than we should have been, hugging to the wall as we made our way uphill and trying to cover as much ground as possible before the skies opened up on us. Eventually, we made it Trastevere, but not until we were completely drenched with five less euros in our pocket after purchasing ponchos in desperation (we held out as long as we could).

And that was a wrap on Rome! I didn’t think I was going to love Rome. I had heard mixed reviews and didn’t have high expectations. But it was surreal to be walking through the streets of a major city and seeing ancient ruins amid modern life. Hopefully we will be able to get back there again one day, and if so, we’ll be sure to schedule in more than 19 hours.

Pit of Rome: It’s a toss up between almost losing Mike forever at the train station or walking around in the pouuuuuring rain (pre ponchos), hopping from one tree to the next for shelter, as we tried to get to Trastevere.

Peak of Rome: Absolutely killing it at touring Rome. Checked off 6 must-see sites AND got 8 hours of sleep all in just 19 hours.