florence – Page 3 – Finding Florence

An Accelerated Introduction to Europe: Thanksgiving Edition

Over the course of this semester, I’ve learned how to navigate Italy on my own. But over the course of a week in November, my family, friends, and I learned how to do the same as a lively group of six.

written by Savvy Sleevar for SPEL: Journalism

Everyone, Meet Europe

When your mom, grandfather, and three best friends visit you in Florence at the tail end of your semester abroad, your resumè expands in an instant. You become a tour guide, a concierge, an amateur Italian historian, a (mediocre) translator, and a transportation liaison all at once.

Navigating Italy for the first time as an American college student is pretty daunting, but when I hosted six guests in my new home away from home for American Thanksgiving, I knew I had to bring my A-game — whatever that looked like.

Over the course of a week, we checked off the boxes on one of the most extensive travel itineraries that I’ve ever seen. I’m talking Rome, Florence, Pisa, Venice, and Athens, all in a matter of days. (Sleep-deprived is an understatement.)

Jam-packed with chaos, mistakes, unforgettable views, and incredible company, I can’t say we enjoyed every second of it, but I know we wouldn’t trade our European adventure for anything.

A few highlights:

1. Tried Florentine steak with Chianti Classico at dinner with my family. Fell in love. My grandpa was particularly amused by the wine’s signature rooster label, pointing it out on future bottles of the stuff.

2. Spent Thanksgiving in Athens with my friends. Got lost downtown. Saw the sea. Made a valiant attempt at using the tram. 10/10 experience.

3. Went to see the Sistine Chapel in Vatican City. All that neck craning was so worth it.

4. Woke up at 3:30 a.m. to fly from Venice to Athens. If I ever book myself a flight like that again, someone, anyone, please stop me.

5. Received a detailed review of the Italian McDonald’s menu from my friends on their first night in Florence, complete with ratings. Glad their experience was just as eye-opening as my first taste of European Mickey D’s a few months prior.

6. Led a (marginally) successful pro-walking campaign, encouraging everyone to ditch the expensive American instinct to call a city cab, and instead, stroll down Italy’s cobblestone streets whenever we could. I felt like a tyrant, but our daily step counts were incredible.

Fresh Eyes

Even if you’ve passed by a piazza, a bridge, or a historic building countless times before, showing visitors these pieces of Italy feels like you’re seeing them again for the first time.

As I took my guests to get a glimpse of Piazza della Signoria, the Arno River, the Duomo, and the Galleria dell’Accademia, I was wide-eyed right along with them. My urge to take pictures in these now-familiar locations was renewed, and soon, my camera roll was full of group selfies — a visual collision of my American life and my Italian one.

Despite my best efforts to make sure things went off without a hitch, my family and friends’ visit to Europe definitely exposed how green I still am when it comes to some aspects of living abroad. There were times when I couldn’t fully answer all my mom’s queries about the city, and it seems my fluency in navigating the high-speed train system doesn’t translate very well when I need to answer my friends’ specific ticket questions via Snapchat.

Even so, this visit also showed me how much I do know about life here, which felt incredible to share with the people closest to me.

For instance, when my friends first arrived in Florence, I knew treating them to aperitivo at my favorite Oltrarno literary café would be the perfect introduction to Italy. Three months ago, I didn’t know what “aperitivo” or “Oltrarno” even meant. But there we were, sipping and crunching and talking in a space I’d fallen in love with over the course of three months.

Similarly, I was able to make restaurant recommendations with ease as we took a gastronomic tour of Florence, and despite my shaky language skills, I found myself having much fuller conversations with locals in Italian that I didn’t know I had in me.

If we had the opportunity to do everything over again, I can probably think of at least half a dozen things we’d change. But I’ve taken enough European side trips to know that imperfection is an integral part of the experience.

Today’s mistakes will become tomorrow’s funny stories, and even with such a wild travel schedule, I know this trip will become a cherished memory for all of us — and a motivator to, one day, do it all again.

15 Weeks in Italy: A Photojournal

written by Jack Wardynski for SPEL: Journalism

To commemorate my study abroad journey, I decided to use this final blog as a photo journal of some of my favorite spots and sights that I encountered during my 15 weeks here. Some are well-known, others are niche and minor, but they all left an impact on me and helped paint the picture of the country in my head that I will carry with me back to the States.

Fedora Pastry Shop (located at FUA & AUF’s Palazzi Community Center)

One of AUF & FUA’s own locations, Fedora Pastry Shop, located on Via Ricasoli, 21 became the staging ground of a daily ritual for me. The café was just a ten minute walk from my apartment, and most days I would make the short trek to grab myself a light breakfast. I tried to embrace the coffee culture while I was in Italy, and I came to enjoy starting my day with a pastry and a cappuccino. Also, it being a school meant that I would often see familiar faces from classes and events, solidifying itself as one of my most appreciated spots in the city.

Piazza San Marco in Venice is one of the more popular attractions in the floating city, and it was a common meeting place for my family while we were exploring. This shot is from the top of the Campanile di San Marco is one of the most beautiful I captured during my semester. The crisp autumn air blew into the top of the tower as we looked out across the city beneath us, and we spent time identifying landmarks on the skyline that stood out to us. Much of the joy of Venice is exploring the undercurrent of canals that snake through the city, but getting this bird’s eye view was incredible as well.

Siena was one of the most memorable places that I visited during this trip, and Orto dei Pecci was the piece of it that has stuck with me the most. This community garden near the outskirts of town featured an eclectic assortment of landmarks, from a herd of free-range goats wandering the treeline to this odd sculpture that was placed in the middle of an open field. Something about exiting the hustle and bustle of the town and entering into this strange green haven offered a welcome respite to a long day of traveling.

The Giunti Odeon Cinema, located in Florence, Italy

The Giunti Odeon Cinema became an unexpected, but welcome frequent hangout spot for me. After first hearing about it online, I checked it out during my first week in Florence and was drawn in by the unique atmosphere. By day, the place is a bookstore and study center that plays muted films in the background, and at night the store is closed so a movie can be screened like in a proper theater. Getting work done here was a common occurrence for me, and while it was often crowded, the free Wifi and general relaxed vibe made it one of my favorite destinations in the city.

This shot of the seaside town, Viareggio is a particularly stunning one to my eye. This was another place that I visited when my family came to see me, and I initially wasn’t sure what the town had to offer. We ended up renting some bikes from a very kind old woman in the park and rode down the coastline, eventually arriving at the end of a pier. From there, you could see the whole town laid out in front of you, and the view with the cloudline and the mountains in the background was incredible. I will never forget this moment, and I am grateful I got to share it with my family who were experiencing Italy for the first time.

This cat was one of my favorite Italian denizens that I encountered during my stay. I ran into him on the streets of Lucca, the fascinating walled city just to the west of Florence. Lucca was the first place that I visited after arriving in Florence, and spending the day exploring really gave me the opportunity to slow down and relax for the first time since leaving the US. The journey over and the days leading up to it were so hectic, I often neglected the opportunity to take in the excitement of what I was doing. This cat, who seemed so comfortable in his environment, resting on pillows that lined the street like he owned the place, was a role model for me: take a second, chill out, and breathe.

It goes without saying that Riomaggiore, and Cinque Terre as a whole, is one of the most distinctive places in the country. The vibrant, multi-colored houses were totally new to me, and the only other place that mimicked this style that I saw was the island of Burano in Venice. I had some delicious seafood in Riomaggiore, and then spent the rest of the afternoon exploring all of its little nooks and crannies. More than anything, I wanted to witness things while studying abroad that I may never see again, and that was certainly the case here, as no town back home can really mimic this.

The days I spent in Rome were fascinating to me. It had such a different feel to it than anywhere else I went in Italy, and the mixture of ancient architecture with modern infrastructure and culture made for an irreplicable blend. For me, however, I was most pulled in by Trastevere, a generally low-energy neighborhood just outside the city center on the west side of the Tiber River. This was where I found the best restaurants in the city, and in general the more relaxed mood offered a soothing refresher from the hectic sights and sounds of the Eternal City. It lacked the iconic landmarks one typically associates with Rome, but I would recommend anyone traveling to the city to check it out.

For my money, the best view of Florence can be found here at the Basilica di San Miniato. I discovered this spot during a walking class conducted by an FUA professor, and it instantly clicked in my mind as a place that I will remember for the rest of my life. Located just a short hike from the crowded Piazzale Michelangelo, the Basilica gives you such an incredible perspective on the city, and for me, going up there during my first month here was so valuable. When I think back on my time spent in Italy, the sights from outside this tranquil abbey will be one of the first things I picture in my mind’s eye.

Uniendo Culturas

The Beauty of Finding Home in Another Country

written by Paula Simon Borja for SPEL: Journalism

Han pasado cuatro meses desde que llegué a Florencia, una ciudad que parece suspendida entre el arte de su pasado y el desorden vibrante de su presente. Vivir aquí era un sueño que me había acompañado desde hace años, un anhelo casi romántico que por fin se hizo realidad. Nunca antes había vivido fuera de México, y mi llegada estuvo llena de asombro y pequeños descubrimientos: las cúpulas imponentes que recortan el cielo, los aromas embriagadores de la comida que escapan de las trattorias y la música de la calle que parece marcar el pulso de la ciudad. Desde el primer momento, algo en Florencia resonó en mi interior. La calidez de la gente, el ritmo intenso de las conversaciones y la devoción por la comida me resultan extrañamente familiares, como si en este rincón de Italia estuviera redescubriendo pedazos de mi propio país.

It has been four months since I arrived in Florence, a city that seems suspended between the grandeur of its artistic past and the vibrant chaos of its present. Living here was a dream that had accompanied me for years, an almost romantic longing that finally came true. I had never lived outside of Mexico before, and my arrival was filled with wonder and small discoveries: the imposing domes cutting across the sky, the intoxicating aromas wafting from trattorias, and the street music that seems to set the city’s rhythm. From the very first moment, something about Florence resonated within me. The warmth of its people, the lively cadence of conversations, and the devotion to food felt strangely familiar, as if in this corner of Italy, I were rediscovering pieces of my own country.

Entre todas las similitudes, la conexión con la comida es quizá la más entrañable. En Florencia, cada comida es un ritual, un acto que trasciende lo cotidiano para convertirse en una celebración. Recuerdo una tarde en el mercado central, donde los colores y aromas de los ingredientes frescos parecían cobrar vida: quesos curados, panes recién horneados, frutas maduras y embutidos artesanales. Me transportó a los mercados en México, donde los puestos de chiles secos, especias y tortillas recién hechas vibran con la misma energía. Mientras saboreaba un panino relleno de porchetta, pensé en los vendedores y cocineras que, tanto en México como aquí, son los custodios de un saber ancestral, portadores de tradiciones que se comparten a través de sabores y texturas. Visitar el mercado, aquí y allá, es un acto casi mágico que conecta a las personas con sus raíces y da forma a la memoria colectiva.

Among all the similarities, the connection to food is perhaps the most heartwarming. In Florence, every meal is a ritual, an act that transcends the ordinary to become a celebration. I remember an afternoon at the central market, where the colors and aromas of fresh ingredients seemed to come alive: aged cheeses, freshly baked bread, ripe fruit, and artisanal cured meats. It transported me to the markets in Mexico, where stalls of dried chiles, spices, and freshly made tortillas hum with the same energy. As I savored a Schiacciata, I thought of the vendors and cooks who, both in Mexico and here, are the custodians of ancestral knowledge, carriers of traditions shared through flavors and textures. Visiting the market, here and there, is a near-magical act that connects people to their roots and shapes the collective memory.

Pero no todo son coincidencias agradables. En una de mis primeras semanas, fui a registrar mi residencia temporal. Llegué temprano, con todos mis documentos en orden, solo para descubrir que las filas eran interminables y los procesos, laberínticos. Fue una experiencia que me llevó de vuelta a las oficinas gubernamentales de Ciudad de México, donde la paciencia es indispensable para navegar la burocracia. En ambas culturas, la burocracia tiene ese peculiar talento para recordarte que, aunque todo avance, hay cosas que parecen resistirse al cambio.

But not everything is a pleasant coincidence. During my first few weeks, I went to register for my temporary residency. I arrived early, with all my documents in order, only to find endless lines and labyrinthine processes. It was an experience that took me back to government offices in Mexico City, where patience is neccesary for navigating bureaucracy. In both cultures, bureaucracy has that peculiar talent for reminding you that, while everything else moves forward, some things seem stubbornly resistant to change.

El caos también se manifiesta en las calles. Las motos y camionetas manejan con una audacia que raya en lo temerario, los peatones desafían las leyes del tráfico con una despreocupación admirable, y los autos parecen fluir más por instinto que por reglas. Este desorden me resulta, curiosamente, reconfortante. Me recuerda al bullicio de las calles mexicanas, al ir y venir caótico pero lleno de vida que define nuestras ciudades. Incluso la suciedad en las esquinas, los restos de una noche animada, tienen ese aire familiar que habla de la humanidad que late en cada rincón.

Chaos also manifests in the streets. Bikes and vans drive with an audacity that borders on recklessness, pedestrians defy traffic laws with admirable nonchalance, and cars seem to flow more by instinct than by rules. This disorder feels, oddly enough, comforting. It reminds me of the bustle of Mexican streets, the chaotic yet vibrant movement that defines our cities. Even the litter in the corners, remnants of a lively night, has that familiar air that speaks of humanity pulsing through every corner.

Hay, sin embargo, aspectos más oscuros que conectan a Italia y México. Al poco tiempo de estar aquí, comencé a notar cómo ciertas dinámicas de poder impregnan la vida cotidiana de manera sutil pero innegable, como un murmullo constante que todos escuchan pero pocos mencionan abiertamente. Pensé inevitablemente en las redes de crimen organizado en México, en cómo sus historias se entrelazan con la realidad diaria, moldeando una parte del carácter colectivo. En ambos países, estas sombras son reconocidas pero no permitidas a definir la identidad por completo. Hay una resistencia a ceder el alma de la cultura a estas fuerzas, un esfuerzo por preservar lo mejor de cada lugar.

There are, however, darker aspects that connect Italy and Mexico. Soon after arriving, I began to notice how certain power dynamics subtly but undeniably permeate daily life, like a constant murmur everyone hears but few openly acknowledge. I inevitably thought about Mexico’s organized crime and how their stories intertwine with daily reality, shaping part of the collective character. In both countries, these shadows are acknowledged but never allowed to fully define identity. There is a resistance to surrender the soul of the culture to these forces, a determination to preserve the best of each place.

El machismo es otro terreno común, aunque aquí se manifiesta de formas distintas. Las historias de las mujeres italianas que luchan por sus derechos me recordaron las marchas multitudinarias de México, los cantos y los gritos de justicia que llenan las calles cada 8 de marzo. En ambas culturas, la lucha por la igualdad y la dignidad es un movimiento imparable, un eco que atraviesa fronteras y conecta a quienes se niegan a aceptar la desigualdad como destino.

Patriarchy is another shared terrain, though it manifests differently here. The stories of Italian women fighting for their rights reminded me of the massive protests in Mexico, the chants and cries for justice that fill the streets every March 8. In both cultures, the fight for equality and dignity is an unstoppable movement, an echo that crosses borders and connects those who refuse to accept inequality as destiny.

Y luego está el nacionalismo, ese orgullo ferviente que tanto italianos como mexicanos llevan en la sangre. Aquí, como en México, hay una devoción por proteger la lengua, las tradiciones, la historia. Pero también hay una solidaridad implícita, una lealtad silenciosa que parece decir: “En las buenas y en las malas, los tuyos siempre serán los tuyos.” Es algo que siento en los pequeños gestos, en la manera en que se cuidan entre sí, en cómo defienden lo suyo con pasión y amor.

And then there is the undeniable nationalism, that fervent pride that both Italians and Mexicans carry in their veins. Here, as in Mexico, there is a devotion to protecting language, traditions, and history. But there is also an implicit solidarity, a quiet loyalty that seems to say: “Through thick and thin, your people will always be your people.” It’s something I sense in the small gestures, in the way they care for one another, in how they defend what is theirs with passion and love.

Ahora, mientras miro por la ventana de mi pequeño departamento florentino, las campanas de una iglesia cercana resuenan con una melodía que ya me resulta familiar. El aroma de una trattoria invade el aire, mezclados con el eco de pasos sobre los adoquines. Pienso en los sonidos vibrantes de México, en el calor del sol que abraza incluso en invierno, en los volcanes que custodian el horizonte de mi país. Las diferencias entre estas dos culturas son apenas un matiz. En el amor por la vida, la comida, la familia y la resistencia ante la adversidad, somos, al final, mucho más parecidos de lo que jamás imaginé.

Now, as I look out the window of my small Florentine apartment, the bells of a nearby church ring with a melody that has already become familiar. The aroma of a trattoria fills the air, mingling with the echo of footsteps on cobblestones. I think of the vibrant sounds of Mexico, the warmth of the sun that embraces even in winter, the volcanoes that guard the horizon of my homeland. The differences between these two cultures are few. In their love of life, food, family, and resilience in the face of adversity, we are, in the end, far more alike than I ever imagined.

In Florenzia: A Day In The Life

written by Makayla Sims

When I wake, the black-out curtains of my apartment that are cracked only let in a sliver of light to let me know a new day has come. I’ll lay in bed for a couple (see: 30) more minutes and then decide it’s time to go face what has come to greet me. Today is Tuesday, so it’s my slow morning. Normally, I will make myself breakfast, but Conad was busy last night with locals, tourists, and students alike shopping, so I figured I’ll go out for breakfast before my anatomy class later in the evening.

I make my way to Le Vespe Cafe, a little American breakfast spot off of Via Ghibellina and where I find myself if I ever miss a taste of home. Currently, I’m studying abroad until mid-December, and I’ve been here since mid-September. Slight homesickness is a part of the gig, I fear. When I step outside of my apartment, I catch a glimpse of the Duomo, not even five minutes away from my front door. Despite my sentimentality, I will miss it greatly when I am gone. My ten minute walk to Le Vespe is accompanied by October rain, and the pumpkin latte I end up getting reminds me of how beautiful it is to have rain during the fall.

I still have a couple of hours before my next class, and there are a couple of things I want to do today before my three and a half hour lecture.

The first place I want to go to is the Boboli Gardens. For my 8 am class, Grow, Cook, Heal, Therapy for Wellbeing, that I have on Wednesdays, we have an assignment where my group must tour four different gardens from different neighborhoods. Then, we must take and upload photos as well as a brief history and description of the grounds (as you can see, nothing too bad).

My twenty minute walk to the gardens features a major staple in Florence, as we (me and my friends) cross the Golden Bridge. It’s hectic and loud and crowded, and by far has one of the most beautiful views of the Arno River I have seen. Still, hold onto your phone and your friends- with these conditions losing one of these is not unlikely.

Boboli Gardens comes attached with a ten dollar entrance fee for the day. We enter through the Pitti Palace, but skip that tour because that isn’t what I’m here for. Instead, we climb the slanted, small, long stairs to the beginning of the garden’s grounds. It’s beautiful here, undeniably so, with a beautiful clearing for the main statues and ponds. To the left and right, the grounds spread out behind a wall of shrubs, with a maze to get into and out of those sections of the garden. If you continue straight all the way to the top, however, you see one of the best views in Florence (apart from the top of the Duomo).

This picture does not do this view justice.

For a moment, I forget about the assignment and just stare. I’m in Italy, I’m in Florence. And the bustling cityscape, the rolling countryside behind it, that’s been my home. For the rest of my life I can know for myself that I, at one point in the distant past, lived there. The beauty of the art, the people (most of them), the food, my friends. It’s just-

Beautiful.

I finish up taking notes of the different architecture and landscapes, then I make my way to my second destination before my anatomy class.

There’s this little record store called Contempo Records that I pass everyday on my way to FUA’s lecture halls. Everyday I pass it, I want to go inside. I don’t have a record player, but my sister does. I know she will appreciate a little memento. I walk inside and am greeted with spiraling ceilings and records stacked to the nines. I don’t end up getting anything, but it makes me feel at home.

After enduring my three hour lecture, I know that it’s time for me to get some homework done. FUA has a library in the same building, but it closes at 6pm and my class is done at 6:55. So I go to, quite genuinely, my favorite place in the city.

The Giunti Odeon Libreria e Cinema is a bookstore/movie theater. Up in the rafters, there are old theater seats for visitors to read or work on homework while a movie plays in the background. Almost always it’s really, really warm inside and almost never can you hear the movie. I love it.

I sit there and work till about 8:30 pm, which is when I make my way back to my apartment. My friends and I have decided to cook ourselves dinner, with some gnocchi pasta, green beans, and focaccia. Before I head inside, I take one last look at the Duomo. How can anyone not be romantic about Florenzia? I wonder.

La última parada

Florence & the moment that changed everything

written by Paula Simon Borja for SPEL: Journalism

En el verano de 2022, tuve el privilegio de viajar 45 días por Europa. Comencé en Madrid, luego recorrí Barcelona, Viena, Budapest, Praga, Berlín, Ámsterdam, París, Roma, Venecia y, finalmente, Florencia. Aunque en ese momento no era plenamente consciente de ello, esa última parada marcaría el cierre perfecto para un viaje que terminó superando todas mis expectativas. Al final de aquel mes, me encontraba exhausta: había subido y bajado de cientos de trenes, me había alojado en hoteles baratos, arrastrado maletas de 20 kilos y me había alimentado principalmente de comida rápida de puestos callejeros. Ya no sentía el impulso de seguir explorando, aunque era absurdo quejarse. Durante esas semanas, tuve la fortuna de admirar algunos de los lugares más hermosos del mundo, de escuchar las canciones más alegres, de reír hasta sentir dolor de estómago y, a su vez, sentir una necesidad profunda de llorar. Florencia, de todos los lugares que visité, fue el que más me conmovió.

In the summer of 2022, I had the privilege of spending 45 days traveling around Europe. I landed in Madrid, then made my way to Barcelona, Vienna, Budapest, Prague, Berlin, Amsterdam, Paris, Rome, Venice, and finally, Florence. What I didn’t know at the time was that I would end the trip with a truly unforgettable experience. By the end of that month, I was utterly exhausted: hopping on and off trains, staying in budget hotels, hauling 44-pound suitcases, and surviving mostly on street food. Honestly, I was running out of steam. It felt almost ridiculous to complain, given how fortunate I was. I had seen some of the world’s most beautiful places, heard the happiest music, laughed until my stomach hurt, and, at times, cried from overwhelming emotions. It was Florence that moved me the most.

Llegué a Florencia sin demasiadas expectativas. Después de haber estado en lugares como París o Roma, pensaba que la ciudad no podía competir con la magnitud histórica y cultural de esos destinos. Mi hermano, un apasionado de la historia, siempre me había hablado de Italia con una devoción casi reverencial. Su fascinación por el Imperio Romano, por los mapas antiguos y por las ciudades históricas es casi obsesiva. Vivió un año en Turín, y su lugar favorito en el mundo es la Plaza de San Marcos, en Venecia. Ese verano, tuve el privilegio de recorrer Italia a través de su ojos, de sus relatos, de sus sentimientos.

I arrived in Florence with little to no expectation. After seeing amazing places like Paris and Rome, I thought, perhaps wrongly, that Florence couldn’t compare in terms of history, culture, or beauty. My brother, however, has an almost obsessive passion for history. He spends hours watching documentaries, drawing ancient cities from old photos, and knows everything there is to know about the Roman Empire. He is utterly obsessed with old maps, especially of ancient cities. He lived in Turin for a year, and his favorite place in the world is Piazza San Marco in Venice. That summer, I had the privilege of seeing Italy through his eyes.

Fuimos al Coliseo en dos ocasiones, exploramos el Vaticano, pasamos casi tres horas bajo el sol abrasante del Foro Romano y contemplamos el atardecer desde el Castillo Sant’Angelo. Fueron experiencias inolvidables. Al día siguiente, llegamos a Florencia. Visitamos el Duomo, recorrimos el museo Uffizi, comimos pizzas y focaccias, nos impresionamos ante el David y volvimos a caminar bajo el sol abrasante ahora en Santo Spirito. En nuestro último día de recorrido, y de viaje en general, mi hermano nos llevó a la Plaza Michelangelo.

We visited the Colosseum twice, explored the Vatican, spent nearly three hours under the scorching sun at the Roman Forum, and watched the sunset from Castel Sant’Angelo. Those were unforgettable experiences. The next day, we arrived in Florence. We toured the Duomo, walked through the Uffizi Gallery, ate pizza and focaccia, were awestruck by the statue of David, and then walked under the hot sun again, this time in Santo Spirito. On our last day in the city, and the last day of the trip, my brother took us to Piazzale Michelangelo.

La subida no fue fácil, pero cada paso valió la pena. Opté por lo que hoy sé que es “el lado correcto”: el que ofrece una vista completa de la ciudad, mientras que el otro, más corto, evita el espectáculo que se despliega frente a ti. Ese día, me encontré en primera fila. La plaza no estaba no estaba demasiado, estaba en su punto justo: un ambiente vibrante, festivo, pero con espacio para sentarse en las famosas escaleras y dejarse envolver por la magia del lugar. En la cima, una banda comenzó a tocar música, canciones populares, algunas de ellas de épocas pasadas. Una de esas canciones, en particular, me dejó sin aliento. No era de mi gusto ni pertenecía a mi estilo musical habitual, pero en ese instante, en ese preciso contexto, la sentí profundamente, hasta lo más íntimo. No pude evitarlo: lloré con una intensidad inesperada, como si ese momento estuviera sanando algo dentro de mí, como si fuera la pieza que me faltaba para sentirme completamente realizada y feliz.

The climb wasn’t easy, but every step was worth it. I took what I now know is “the right path”, the one that offers a full view of the city, while the other, shorter route, turns its back on the spectacle ahead. That day, I was front and center. The square wasn’t too crowded; it was just the right amount of people: lively, festive, but still with space to sit on the famous stairs and let yourself be wrapped up in the magic of the place. At the top, a band started playing music—popular songs, some from past eras. One of those songs, in particular, took my breath away. It wasn’t my usual taste, nor the kind of music I’d typically choose, but in that moment, in that exact place, it moved me deeply. I couldn’t help it: I cried, unexpectedly and intensely, as if that moment was healing something inside me, like it was the missing piece I needed to feel completely whole and happy.

Estaba acompañada de mis hermanos y dos mujeres rumanas que habíamos conocido unos destinos atrás y que decidieron acompañarnos en la última parte del viaje. Compartí esa experiencia con personas que, aunque tal vez por razones distintas, estaban viviendo algo igualmente significativo. En ese momento, todos compartimos una misma emoción, un mismo sentimiento. Es una acción tan común entre los seres humanos que parece casi involuntaria, pero es un privilegio sentir. Es un privilegio llorar, reír, admirar, asombrarse.

I was with my siblings and two Romanian women we had met a few stops earlier, who decided to join us for the last part of the trip. I shared that experience with people who, although for different reasons, were feeling something just as meaningful. In that moment, we all shared the same emotion, the same feeling. It’s such a common thing among humans that it almost feels automatic, but it’s a privilege to feel. It’s a privilege to cry, to laugh, to appreciate, to be amazed.

Esa escena, esa canción, ese atardecer en la Plaza Michelangelo, fue el cierre perfecto para un viaje que ya había sido extraordinario. Ese momento encapsuló todo lo que había vivido en los 45 días anteriores: los lugares, las personas, los sentimientos, los recuerdos. Fue como si la vida hubiese tomado todo eso y lo hubiera condensado en ese instante, en ese lugar, con esas personas. Ese día comprendí, de manera profunda, que Florencia poseía una magia única. Fue entonces cuando supe que debía regresar, que había vivido algo irrepetible. En diciembre de 2024, cuando decidí buscar la oportunidad de hacer un intercambio académico, no hubo duda de que Florencia sería mi destino. Ahora, todos los días, voy a esa plaza a ver el atardecer, a escuchar música y a compartir un sentimiento de libertad. Abrazo con fuerza el privilegio de revivirlo a diario.

That moment, that song, that sunset in Piazzale Michelangelo, was the perfect ending to a trip that had already been extraordinary. It captured everything I had experienced in the past 45 days: the places, the people, the emotions, the memories. It felt like life had taken all of that and condensed it into one instant, in one place, with those specific people. That day, I deeply understood that Florence had a unique magic. It was then that I knew I had to return, that I had experienced something unforgettable. In December 2024, when I decided to look for a chance to study abroad, there was no question: Florence would be my destination. Now, every day, I go to that place to watch the sunset, listen to music, and share a sense of freedom. It’s a gift I cherish, being able to relive it each day.

Tuscan Leather

written by Pedro Calderon for SPEL: Public Relations

If you take just a 10-minute walk through the center of Florence, you will immediately notice a wide variety of storefronts: trattorias, gelaterias, and souvenir shops. Among these, leather goods shops are particularly prominent, and for good reason. Many of these shops offer a range of products such as leather jackets, accessories, bags, wallets, shoes, belts, and countless other items in practically every color you can imagine. Italy, especially the region of Tuscany, is known for its high-quality leather and craftsmanship, thanks to a long tradition of being a central market for trade.

One of the best places to find leather goods is the Mercato di San Lorenzo, located next to the Mercato Centrale, just a 7-minute walk from the Piazza del Duomo. Inside the Mercato Centrale, you will find vendors selling fresh produce and meat, as well as restaurants upstairs offering delicious local cuisine and an excellent selection of wines. Outside, the Mercato di San Lorenzo is lined with vendors selling souvenirs like key chains, miniature statues, postcards, shirts, sweaters, scarves, and an impressive selection of leather goods. While these shops are plentiful with colors and designs, real leather lovers may want to wander outside of the Mercato Centrale area to find family-run boutiques. Some of the highest rated, and local favorites include Casini (Piazza de Pitti, 30, Firenze), Bemporad (Via Calzaiuoli 11/15/17/B Firenze), Giorgio 1966 Leather Store (Via del Canto dei Nelli 34, Florence), Pierotucci (via Lungo L’Ema 17, Ponte a Ema, Florence), and Benheart.

Tuscan leather is sourced from local cattle, and the region’s pastures are ideal for raising them. The same cattle that contribute to Florence’s famous Bistecca alla Fiorentina also provide the high-quality hides used in artisanal leather products. This connection between the livestock and leather industries reinforces a sustainable tradition where nothing goes to waste, blending the region’s culinary and artisanal excellence into one cultural experience.

The area’s tradition of leather working dates back to the 13th century. Leather working was already popular in the 1200s in the Republic of Pisa, and after Florence conquered Pisa in the 1400s, many wealthy business owners decided to establish leather production operations in and around Florence; this practice has remained stable despite economic cycles. Professional leather workers can have successful careers as pattern makers, prototype makers, product developers, accessories designers, and fashion entrepreneurs. Modern luxury brands based in Florence, such as Gucci, Ferragamo, Pucci and Cavalli, specialize in high-quality leather goods. Today, local artisans are often hired to collaborate with high-end fashion houses on specialty accessory designs.

The leather making process begins in a tannery, where the hide is processed using vegetable tannins to get its color. The tanning agent, called liquor, is made from a mixture of ground tree bark, twigs, leaves, and water, and other ingredients to form the desired color. But before this step, the raw hides must be prepared by tanning or drying them with salt to preserve their properties. The hides are then rehydrated to make it easier to remove the hair on the surface, exposing the leather’s natural grain, texture, and softness. They are then pre-tanned with natural tannins and then fully vegetable-tanned using the liquor. Finally, the hides are dried and classified based on their appearance and quality, determining how and for what they will be used. The entire process can take 20 to 40 days to complete. Although centuries old, the process has been made more efficient by technological advancements. In the Arno Valley near Pisa alone, there are hundreds of leather factories and workshops.

Leather is prized for its many qualities, including flexibility, strength, elasticity, malleability, and breathability. There are generally four types of leather that consumers encounter. The highest quality is full-grain leather, which is the top layer of leather and shows off the natural properties of the leather, sometimes even imperfections. Top-grain leather, which is smoother and cheaper than full-grain leather, is still considered high quality. Genuine leather, the most common and affordable type, is what is usually found in everyday designs and souvenirs, although it is considered the lowest quality. Finally, suede is a soft, velvety type of leather often used for footwear and upholstery.

I always recommend purchasing leather products with the “Made in Italy” label to support local artisans and the economy. Although cash is often preferred, most vendors accept cards. Leather is a perfect and useful souvenir or gift for anyone visiting Florence and wanting to take home a piece of Tuscany. It is a product that lasts almost a lifetime.

Mysteries Beyond the Tourist Trail: Ghosts, Legends, and Timeless Traditions of Florence

written by Sydney Kerrihard for SPEL: Public Relations

With only a few months to explore Florence, study abroad students are often swept up in the surface-level customs of the city – refraining from cappuccinos after 11 am or adjusting to the quiet afternoons of the Italian riposo. But beneath these everyday habits lies a city full of rich folklore and deep-rooted traditions, passed down from generation to generation. From haunting ghost stories whispered among children to age-old rituals, Florence’s cultural heritage is far too complex to fully unravel in just a few short months. Yet, it’s these lesser-known stories, tales, and traditions that truly capture the heart of this historic city.

The Ghost of Palazzo Vecchio

*Figure 1.*
*Palazzo Vecchio late at night.*

While the exact number of people who were killed at Palazzo Vecchio remains unknown, one story specifically stands out. Baldaccio d’ Anghairari, a military leader notorious for his violent nature, earned his grim nickname “Baldaccio” because of his aggression.

On September 6, 1441, Baldaccio was summoned to the Palazzo Vecchio where he was ambushed – shot from behind, thrown from a window, and dragged into the Piazza della Signoria where he was beheaded. Wrongfully accused of treason, his death shocked the city of Florence, and even the Pope expressed remorse for the horrible crime committed against him.

Since that day, legend has it that Baldaccio’s ghost haunts the halls of Palazzo Vecchio, returning every September 6^th. Some believe that every 50 years, Baldaccio would return on the night of his death, holding its head under its arm. In 2001, a couple claimed to have encountered Baldaccio while on a romantic stroll at Piazzale Michelangelo. Having taken some photos of the evening, they later discovered a face staring back at them in one of the pictures. When paranormal investigators confirmed the photo was unaltered, they concluded the face belonged to the restless ghost of Baldaccio, still unable to find peace.

The Legend of “Rifrullo del Diavolo” (“The Devil’s Recoil”)

*Figure 2.*
*A visual representation of the “Rifrullo del Diavolo”.*

Near Via Della Studio, just over the bridge, you will feel a slight breeze that in the winter turns into a powerful whirlwind. The wind is known as the “Rifrullo del Diavolo” or “The Devil’s Recoil”, a strange natural phenomenon rooted in an ancient legend.

The legend begins long ago when the devil was said to be pursuing a priest through the streets of Florence, determined to claim his soul. Once they arrived at the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore, the priest pleaded with the devil, asking to pray one more time before suffering eternal damnation. The devil agreed, confident in his victory, and waited outside while the priest entered the church.

As the devil stood by the front doors, he dozed off, and his snores stirred up a gentle breeze. But when he awoke, he realized the priest had outwitted him, escaping through a back door. Furious at this deception, the devil’s anger turned his snores into a whirlwind of rage.

Since that day, the “Rifrullo of the Devil” has never stopped blowing, waiting in anger for the priest to emerge from the church.

The Rificolona Festival

The Rificolona Festival is an ancient tradition that gained popularity in the mid-17th century. Held on September 7th, the night before the celebration of the Virgin Mary’s birth on September 8th, it marks a unique moment in Florence’s history.

On the evening of September 7th, farmers and merchants from the surrounding countryside would make their way into Florence, bringing goods to sell the next morning. They set out early to secure prime spots in the marketplace, lighting their way with lanterns hanging from sticks, canes, or poles, creating a beautiful collection of light through the dark streets.

Today, this tradition lives on through the children of Florence, who will craft or buy colorful lanterns to parade throughout the city. As they traverse the streets, they chant traditional songs such as the famous folk tune, “Ona, ona, ona che bella Rificolona! La mia l’è co’ fiocchi e la tua l’è co’ i pidocchi” (“Oh, oh, oh, what a beautiful lantern! Mine has ribbons, yours has lice”). The parade begins at the Basilica di Impruneta at 4 pm and concludes at Piazza Santissima Annunziata at 9:30. Sometimes, children will even throw clay balls at the lanterns to try and break them, adding an element of competition to the evening.

The following day on September 8, the terrace of Santa Maria del Fiore opens to visitors, offering a view of the lanterns from the previous night.

The Art of Busking: Florence’s Relationship with Street Performers

written by Ava Lees for SPEL: Public Relations

When walking around Florence, it’s difficult to miss the wide array of street performers who make their living displaying their talents in front of famous landmarks like the Duomo and Ponte Vecchio. All different types of performances from singing to puppeteering can be seen across the city, adding to the rich culture of art here. Florence’s streets often echo with the vibrant sound of guitars, violins, and even the occasional accordion, as artists fill the air with melodies that seamlessly compliment the city’s centuries-old architecture.

Street performing, or busking, has been around for centuries and has been present in Florence since the Renaissance era. During the Renaissance, Florence was not only the center of intellectual and artistic innovation but also a city where art and life intertwined in the most public ways. The streets were alive with performers entertaining and inspiring everyday citizens. These street artists brought art to the masses, making it accessible to people from all walks of life, and fostering a unique communal experience in public squares. This has carried into the culture of the city today, although there are a few more regulations around it.

In my short time in Florence, I’ve seen dozens of different performances by buskers. I remember the first time I came across this was during sunset as I was taking a walk over Ponte Santa Trinita. Before I could see anyone, I could hear the music floating through the air and adding to the atmosphere of the gorgeous scenery of Florence. A crowd had gathered around a woman as she sat on the bridge playing the violin for a mix of both tourists and locals who were on the bridge to watch the sunset. It felt like a scene straight out of a movie and since that moment I have found the street performances in this city captivating.

After witnessing dozens of talented buskers around the city, I started to wonder how these artists make their money. In recent years, Florence has implemented fairly strict laws when it comes to allowing people to busk, so it isn’t as simple as setting up and playing music. They’ve implemented a licensing system that performers can use so they can all display their talents without stepping on each other’s toes and causing chaos in the city.

The license requires planning about a month in advance and costs fifty dollars a week for performers to be given a designated space for up to seven days in a row. Once performers do have a license, they are given guidelines to follow, such as having a two-meter square to perform in and reserving spaces at least ten days in advance. The regulations are so strict that even using a chair while performing incurs an additional 50-cent charge a day.

Despite the regulations and logistical challenges, the spirit of busking in Florence continues to thrive, bringing life, music, and creativity to the city’s streets. These performers are not just providing entertainment, they are keeping alive a centuries-old tradition that has shaped the cultural fabric of Florence. The city’s unique blend of history, art, and strict modern regulations ensures that while Florence evolves, it remains a haven for street performers who enrich the daily lives of both locals and visitors.

Italy From the Lens of Media, and the View From Reality

written by Alex Daggett for SPEL: Journalism

Italy has become one of the most popular and sought after destinations for travelers in the past decade, and this tourism boom has been heavily contributed by depictions of Italy and Italian culture in American media. However, the way that this representation in popular movies, pop culture, and television shows has portrayed the country does not accurately reflect the current landscape and culture of Italy. After living and studying in Florence for the past 10 weeks, I have sought to examine the differences in expectations set by the media, and the reality of the country.

One of the main reasons that I had such an affinity for Florence and Italy was the rich history, the art, and the culture that I have been studying and reading about for years. However, it is becoming more and more common for people to travel to Italy because of the images and ideas of the country that have been pushed out and popularized by American media. The issue of this is that these depictions are not accurate, and portray a romanticized version of the culture and country. Thus, leading to travelers who seek these unrealistic expectations being left with disappointment, and an unfair resentment for the true Italian culture. Some of the common tropes and ideas that I have seen being pushed come from very popular movies and television shows, such as the romanticized version of Northern Italy in the film, ‘Call Me by Your Name’.

While many go to Italy expecting to see the same lush landscapes and sprawling villas that are portrayed in the feature film with Timothée Chalamet, they are confronted with the fact that Italy is not the perfect utopia that is depicted in the film, but rather a real living country, with a diverse and intricate community from all walks of life. This is not a bad thing at all, and part of what makes Italy so special to me, but to many who have watched this film, they are expecting reality to align with Hollywood. When they are inevitably confronted with the truth of the situation, they unfairly direct their anger at the country and the people who did nothing but get stereotyped by Hollywood. In my personal experiences, I have found some amazing small towns and beautiful surroundings, that are nothing like what is shown in movies, but are even more amazing than the cliche scenes in movies. Seeing actual vineyards, with real farmers, and to see real homes that you can tell people actually live in rather than just decorated like they are in magazines is so much more personally fulfilling to me, and I wish that was what was shown in these movies, rather than an idealized version of reality.

The language barrier is also something that many tourists are not prepared for, as in films such as ‘Call Me by Your Name’ or the hit series ‘The Sopranos.’ In these forms of media, characters are portrayed as speaking mostly English with a vague ‘Italian’ accent, and that is the image that is seared into the brains of the viewers, setting them up for disappointment when they realize that most Italians speak their actual native tongue. That is part of the immersive experience, to try and learn someone else’s language, while you are in their country; it is selfish to expect the opposite. ‘The Sopranos’ also paints a scene of Italy where everyone is connected in some form to the Mafia, or organized crime, and this is also simply not the case.

The problem also lies in expectations set by Italian-American culture, that many have internalized as just purely Italian. The most obvious example of this would be the differences in food, and dining culture. While many Americans think that the dishes of Spaghetti and Meatballs, thick and creamy Fettuccine Alfredo, and Chicken Parm, are dishes that they can find that are native and from Italian culture, they are actually creations from the blending of Italian immigrants and American culture, that only exist in the states, and are not actually from the country of Italy itself. This culture shock is often hard to adjust to for many travelers, and unfortunately many restaurants have started making these Italian-American dishes exclusively for travelers to eat because it is what they expect of Italy, causing many tourists to completely miss out on proper and authentic Italian cuisine. This is defeating the entire point of traveling. The failure to appreciate true Italian culture is heartbreaking to see, as I have found so many amazing dishes that I could never find in the United State. These dishes have actual history and roots from the country of origin, and are not portrayed nearly as often in American media. There is a large disconnect between what is portrayed in the media that is classified as ‘Italian’ and what you actually find in Italy, which is sad to see, because the real Italy is far more interesting than the version that is shown to Americans in the media. In order to appreciate the true beauty, one must set aside past baisers from media, and experience the culture authentically.

Parts of You

written by Valerie Tiscareno for SPEL: Journalism

A bag, the clothes on my back, the shoes on my feet, that is all I need to leave — something you and I talked so heavily about. Our dreams of being nomads, going from here to there with no ties. Here I am, 6,191 miles away from home, walking the normally-crowded streets of Florence at 6 in the morning with nothing more than a side quest in mind to get outside of Florence. Meeting up with my friend Kyla at the C1 bus station to get to Fiesole, We waited, groggy and tired.

I thought of you.

How you left home and moved from place to place. When you were unsatisfied, you disappeared in the mountains, canyons, somewhere quieter. Here I am doing the same thing, moving from the coastal ocean of California to the grassroots of Missouri then the cobblestone streets of Italy. The excitement and struggles of moving somewhere new; a rush we both divinely understood.

Florence has been nothing more but eye opening. Even so, I feel the need to leave to go somewhere quieter. So, Kyla and I hopped on the bus and left. Up to the windy, narrow roads away from Florence. With every stop, the roads got greener and the world got softer. Until we stopped and went off near the hill tops in Fiesole.

With no agenda, others had a mission to find coffee. We set off together. The town center was lonely, everything facing each other. It took us no more than about 500 feet to find coffee. We were happily greeted by the barista as we ordered two cappuccinos and two croissants. We sat outside and discussed our friendships and our lives, something so dear to the both of us.

And I thought of you again.

How much you deeply cared for every person you met. The smile you were able to put on someone’s face, even if it was the first time you met them. How you dropped everything for a friend in need.

As we paid for our coffee, we walked around the sleepy town and sat still. We wandered up the hills and discovered a playground. One swing set, one slide, one rocking horse. I had never been so excited for something so simple. I ran to the swing and Kyla took the rocking horse. Giggling, swinging back and forth, I was no longer grieving my home, my family, my friends, or girlhood. I hopped off and traded Kyla for the rocking horse. Then, eager to see more, we ran off to the other side of town.

Leaving Florence with Kyla was the only thing I needed. Kyla was the first person I met before coming to Italy. We took on the long 12 hour flight together, and she was a hidden treasure in my life that Italy brought to me. As we walked together, we saw hidden pieces of art scattered around the town. We walked up the stairs of a church and we were greeted by a butterfly — another hidden surprise. Butterflies for me have always meant that someone who has passed was visiting. Insert sentence-long association. Sitting on the ground, spreading its beautiful orange spotted wings to the sun, it was the first time I had seen a butterfly in Tuscany.

And I thought of you again.

How I met you by chance. Out of all the colleges I got into, I chose Mizzou. Out of the thousands of people to meet that first week, I met your friends. By chance I bumped into them before they were to throw their first college party. How you were not supposed to go, but decided to go about 30 minutes before they were leaving KC.

For a second, in Tuscany, I got to see you again. Before I could say goodbye, you fluttered your wings and flew away.