written by Talia Velazquez for SPEL: Public Relations
A reflection on how exploring Florence encourages spontaneity and discovery, highlighting the city’s charm in its unpredictability and the value of wandering off the beaten path to uncover hidden gems and unique experiences.
They say, “You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.” I would say they are right about everything… except Florence. I’ve known all along.
Every weekend that I pack a bag and leave for some new, exciting city, I feel a little sad–not because I don’t want to explore, but because I already miss home. Not my home-home. My Florence home. My creaky-ceilinged apartment with the mural above my bed. The little store I pass every morning on my way to class, where the dogs are always lounging by the window like they’re in on some secret. And let’s not forget the cobblestone streets that have tested my ankles more times than I can count but somehow still feel charming. There’s something about the worn-out texture of this city that makes it feel alive in a way my clean, polished hometown never could. It’s these small, oddly specific details that have worked their way into my daily rhythm–and now, I can’t imagine my life here without them.
At first glance, Florence was a maze. I had no idea how to get anywhere without my GPS, and honestly, I treated that little blue dot like my personal life raft. My classes were a 20-30 minute walk from my apartment, and I’d just stare at my phone, hoping it would lead me safely to my destination. One day, my phone died mid-walk; I had no choice but to try to figure out my way back without it. And, in those 30 minutes of trying to “not panic,” I found three new cafes, a few tiny shops, and a quiet little park I had no clue was just around the corner from where I lived.
It was an accident–but one of the best accidents of my life.
Since then, I made a habit of getting lost on purpose. I made it a rule: no GPS. I embraced getting lost. Florence rewards you for it, like it’s daring you to wander. Around every corner, there’s something new–an old man selling fresh strawberries, a second hand bookstore with handwritten notes tucked inside the margins, a view from a bridge I’ve never crossed before that feels like a scene out of a movie. These little treasures wouldn’t exist if I stayed on the beaten path, glued to my phone or my to-do list. These are things I’d never find back home. Things I might never find again, even here.
Every single day since I arrived in Florence, I’ve stumbled upon something new. It’s become my daily ritual–taking a different route, looking up instead of at my feet, discovering the city for the first time all over again. My roommates and I even started this funny little game: “What place did you find today?” We know the answer will always be something we’ll all end up visiting together at some point. Florence is like a love letter to curiosity–always waiting to reveal something amazing if you’re just open enough to look.
When I’m away on weekends, I miss that. I miss the random joy of wandering with no plan, of not knowing where I’m going, but finding something unexpected around every turn. I miss my roommates, too. Staying up late with people from all over the world, talking about nothing but everything at the same time. Swapping stories, comparing cultures, laughing about weird language slip-ups or marveling at the strange, wonderful ways we have all changed since we got here. I miss that feeling. The feeling that even when I have no clue where I’m headed, I know exactly where I belong.
Florence has made me softer and more spontaneous. Less scared of being unprepared. I’ve stopped trying to plan for everything. I’ve started letting the city guide me, saying “yes” to more things than I ever would have back home: spontaneous dinners with new friends, tagging along with people who seem to have an endless supply of places to explore, or even just stepping out of my comfort zone and taking a walk down a street I’ve never been down before. I’ve learned that you don’t need to have every moment mapped out to make it count. Florence has shown me more than I ever could have scheduled into an itinerary.
And here’s the thing: I thought I’d get tired of it. I thought the charm would fade, the magic would wear off. I mean, how many breathtaking sunsets over the Arno can one person handle, right? But now here’s the truth: Florence hasn’t gotten old. It’s only gotten more real. It’s not perfect–far from it. The roads are bumpy, the traffic is chaotic, and sometimes it feels like I’m living in a postcard that’s a little too messy to be real. But that’s the beauty of it. It’s raw. It’s alive. It’s a city that doesn’t apologize for being exactly what it is. And because of that, I’ve learned to stop trying to have everything perfectly planned out. Because life isn’t about following a schedule–it’s about the moments in between. The unexpected discoveries. The conversations that stretch until 2 a.m. The way the city feels like it’s breathing with you, not just around you.
I look back and realize: I’ll never be 19 in Florence again. I’ll never walk these streets in the same way, with the same people, in this same moment. And honestly? I wouldn’t want to. Florence has given me a version of myself that I never expected to find–a version that can be spontaneous, that can wander without a destination, and that can embrace the unknown. That’s what Florence has taught me: to say yes to the journey, to find beauty in the detours, and to never be afraid of getting lost. Because sometimes, getting lost can lead you to exactly where you need to be.
