study abroad – Page 3 – Finding Florence

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.

Florence on Two Wheels: The Subtle Joys of Cycling in Italy

Throughout the United States, car-based infrastructure reigns supreme. But here in Florence, all I need for a quick commute, a trip to the market, or just a leisurely day exploring the city, is a bicycle.

written by Savvy Sleevar for SPEL: Journalism

Shifting Gears

Back home in Illinois, it takes me 30 minutes to get from my house to work on a bike. 25 if I’m really booking it. That’s 5 miles, 4 busy, multi-lane streets, 3 bridges, 2 zip codes, and 1 water bottle’s worth of riding. The trail system in my town provides me with a safe path for most of my trip, and the canopy of trees overhead grants me a much-needed respite from the boiling Midwestern sun as I ride. But even the most bike-friendly route to work includes a sprawl of asphalt parking lots and the off chance of being hit by a car on College Avenue or Jumer Drive. Without the security of the trail (unless you’re a professional, Tour de France-level cyclist), it’s eat or be eaten out on the road.

An ocean away from my hometown, in Florence it takes me less than 15 minutes to get almost anywhere I need to go. Granted, that’s partially because I’m in a city. It’s also because skinny, one-way streets dominate the urban landscape here. If a car finds itself behind me on the street and doesn’t have the room to pass me for a few blocks, there are no funny looks from the drivers. I’m rarely honked at and never relegated to the sidewalks — I can’t be, they’re microscopic anyhow. I have the right of way. I can ride in the street without fear of a car hitting me, and I can park in more places than a car ever could. When you’re on a bike in Italy, how can it feel like it’s eat or be eaten when you’re at the top of the food chain?

In Florence, riding a bike isn’t just a way to get exercise, it’s a key to the city. For a cash-poor college student whose time management is a little worse for wear and whose legs are still getting used to the sheer amount of walking that’s almost synonymous with European living, a bicycle for me might as well be a shiny new Vespa, ready to ferry me to new places, new people, and new experiences that I’d never encounter back home.

No More Training Wheels

The first time I tried to rent a bike in Florence, I was in rough shape. I didn’t know my class would be taking a 30-plus-minute walk at the end of the lecture that day, and while my grandma’s vintage brown sandals looked super cute with my outfit, they were threatening to cover the soles of my feet with blisters. Long story short, I adopted something of a nonchalant hobble by the time class was dismissed. I was way out of my way, it was blazing hot, and there was absolutely no way I was walking home, not like this.

When I saw the orange and silver frame of a rentable bike, casually parked on the curb, I made a beeline for it. I hadn’t spent the summer riding around on my swanky blue Huffy for nothing. I intended to do some cycling in Italy, and there was no better time to start.

Well, my time to start ended up feeling more like a time to start, then stop, then start, then stop again.

What I didn’t realize when I unlocked the bike was that a.) it would talk to me and b.) it was electric. While manual bikes are no problem for me, I had never used an electric one before. So as I’m trying to mount this talking Italian bicycle, I get spooked by the momentum boost it gives me as soon as my feet hit the pedals. I quickly lose my balance, making an ungraceful dismount. All of a sudden, I’m a 5-year-old girl again, learning to ride without training wheels in my driveway. But this time, Mom and Dad aren’t here with me to give me a push. Just the occasional passersby on the sidewalk, all of whom minded their own business, but definitely watched me try and fail to get myself situated on the bike seat an embarrassing number of times.

After a few more attempts, I finally get on the bike and stay there, gingerly pedaling as it propels me down the cobbled street. Thousands of miles from home and 16 years after my training wheels first came off, I was learning to ride a bike again.

Picking Up Speed

Soon, I began riding everywhere. I’ll fill the front basket with groceries, my purse, or a tote bag, and then I’ll set off for class, a quick lunch, a leisurely dinner, an outing to the market — any reason to get on a bike is reason enough for me.

By no means am I the perfect European cyclist. So far, I have accidentally hit one tourist in a crowded piazza, lost my balance and hopped off the bike mid-ride at least twice, and I just recently figured out how to ring my bell. Even so, riding a bike here has felt miraculous. My first week or so in Florence was dominated by the unforgiving September heat, culture shock, and the overall sense that I was stuck in survival mode until further notice. But that very first time I cycled here, I decided to take a long route home. The road I was on spit me out onto a paved street by the river; I felt my first cool breeze in days rushing through my hair, and as I whizzed down the street, I saw the Duomo peek out from behind the buildings on the north side of the Arno.

For the first time, I didn’t feel like I was in survival mode. I wasn’t just visiting Florence, I was living here. I was riding down the street in my host city, soaking up the view, the sunshine, the essence of this new home away from home.

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.

A City Full of History & Chaos

written by Isabella Tecchio for SPELL: Journalism

I know very well how to work an espresso machine. Better than a lot of people; at least I think. I know exactly how each pasta dish served to me here was made, what is inside of it, each and every kind of pasta there is, and how long each ragù took to cook. I grew up around Italians, an Italian family that came from Veneto.

I felt that I knew a tremendous amount about the culture, and a tremendous amount about the people. I do believe I still do, but because of the large difference Italians and Americans have culturally, it is impossible to not be overwhelmed. I had an idea that I would not need as much cultural integration because I am already so aware of the culture, but it is simply not true. I am an American, born and raised in upstate New York. Although raised around the culture it does not separate the fact that I am not from Italy.

Arrival in Florence

Florence is stunning. Stunning, and completely shocking for an American from a small town. How can so much history be packed into one city? Into one country? It is something I cannot grasp. With this incredible art and history come tourists. Many including me look in awe at everything around them. How can the outside and inside of the Duomo be so incredible? Genuinely, I wish I could express my amazement. Each minor detail was carved so long ago, each detail painted and worked on from centuries ago. I can go on and on, and for this reason I will always look like an American tourist. First of all because I am, and because of the utter astonishment I am in every time I walk by this masterpiece.

The amount of people that pack into the city center freaks me out. More than freaks me out, it scares me. Never in my life have I been around so many people, or lived somewhere so close to the center of something so important. I can continue to use the word overwhelming but unfortunately this word does not cover it. Walking outside and making one left turn I see the Duomo, and every designer store you can imagine. I believe this is the most tourism-filled part of the city. Understandably, since this is also the home of the Uffizi Gallery, something I cannot wait to see.

Lifestyle Changes & Differences

Living in a space where I am able to see the Duomo from outside my window is incredible. The way of living is extremely different. Americans love to waste energy. We keep our air conditioning on for hours at a time, leave the water running in the shower, and keep the lights on. At least these are things that I do…

If my roommates and I use too many outlets at one time, the circuit blows. By too many, I mean charging three computers at once, or someone wants to blow dry their hair. Conserving energy is taken more seriously, as well as the environment. Partly because I don’t think the same choice is given to waste energy, but also because it is of an almost cultural importance. I was always told to shut off the lights, turn off the fan, to not leave things running all day, and it puts things into perspective as I learn more about Italy, and how connected my family remains.

Environmentally, Italy is very in tune. They separate glass, paper, and organics, usually maintaining five different bins for what Americans would just call trash. I don’t want to group all of us into one realm of not recycling, but at least in my home, even when we do recycle, the garbage truck puts everything into one bin. I have seen it happen every single time. Unfortunately even if we want to be as environmentally friendly, I don’t know that we care enough. There is a care for their country that I do believe we lack. Americans I know in Florence I have seen not separate their trash and recycling, which is very sad. If we don’t have respect for other countries, how can we have respect for our own?

I do believe that we can turn this ideal around, but witnessing it in front of me has brought me not just a cultural shock, but also sadness. I would like to point out how exciting this is for many Americans as well, to see another country caring so much about the environment to separate everything, and following it.

In the end

I love Florence, and I love the country. I love being here, although overwhelming and the fact that it has taken me a bit to adjust; I don’t know that I ever will be fully adjusted. There is a comfort and a calmness here that the U.S. lacks, at least for me. Life here is based on taking care of yourself, feeding yourself, doing your work, being social and seeing friends.

The social aspect here is something we simply do not have in the U.S. as well. Walking culture and a thousand other things that make for a healthier life. Health is valued and cared about, activities and speaking to people is valued. I miss home, but for now home is here, and I am excited about it.

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.

Transportation Follies

written by Jack Wardynski for SPEL: Journalism

After a busy first full week of classes and internship work, I thought a weekend trip to the nearby town of Lucca would suit me well. I had heard from both my professor and a previous study abroad student how unique the famous walled city is, and I was eager to get a look at it for myself. A €25 round trip by train, plus the cost of a few meals, should make for an easy, cost-effective day.

“Should” was the critical word of that sentence. As my train pulled into the station in Pescia, just a few stops before Lucca, an announcement came over the speakers, and everyone started to pour off the train. Since my Italian is così così at best, I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I figured I should follow the pack. It became clear to me, based on people’s perturbed expressions and some highly agitated phone calls, that the train was not going to Lucca as originally planned. Instead, buses would be coming to take us the rest of the way. The issue: there were easily over a hundred of us waiting outside the station, much more than could fit on one or two buses. I settled in next to a friendly-looking group conversing in Italian and prepared for a long day.

Goodbye, Home

This latest public transportation folly sparked flashbacks to my initial journey from the U.S. to Florence just a few weeks prior. My flight out of O’Hare International Airport in Chicago was scheduled for 7 p.m. local time on August 27. Nature had other plans, however, as a massive storm with sideways rain and petulant lightning cut through the darkness outside. The plane took off two hours later than expected, which, considering my layover in Iceland was only meant to be one hour, presented an issue.

Five hours later (ten with the time zone change), we landed outside Reykjavik and I received the bad news: there were no more flights into Rome for the day, so I would have to stay the night in Iceland and depart the following morning. Thankfully, the good folks at Icelandair were kind enough to give me and the rest of the wayward travelers on Flight 852 free lodging and meals at a nearby hotel. After getting bused to our home for the night and receiving my room key, I promptly crawled into bed and crashed. I have never been able to sleep on planes, so I had been awake for around thirty hours straight at that point.

Icelandic Wake-Up Call

I awoke in the evening and decided to explore this new, exotic land. When one pictures themself visiting a foreign country for the first time, I don’t think many envision it being Keflavik, Iceland, but the universe works in mysterious ways. With all due respect to the people of Iceland, there wasn’t an extraordinary amount of things going on during a random Wednesday in late summer, though there were some beautiful sights. I ordered dinner at a small local joint called Kentucky Fried Chicken and returned to the hotel, only to learn that the bus to the airport would leave at 4 in the morning. Thankfully, my circadian rhythm was so out of sorts that getting up at 3 a.m. was no problem for me. For those keeping score, it is now the 29th. Upon returning to the airport, however, my problems only deepened.

Apparently, the airline had not booked me for a flight directly into Rome like I assumed, but instead a flight to Germany with a five hour layover before a connector into Rome. Panic started to settle in around now, as this meant I would miss the check-in time at FUA. Thankfully, one of my friends would grab my apartment keys for me, so that at least was taken care of. With no alternatives, I resigned myself to my imminent stay in Germany’s Frankfurt Airport. Fun fact: Iceland’s airport has no jet bridges, so you have to take a bus to and from the plane.

My brief excursion to Germany was largely uneventful; I ate an overpriced cheeseburger (Germans, why do you put cucumbers on burgers?), failed to locate a water fountain, and watched some anime. I did have a brief scare before boarding the flight that my luggage had been lost, but luckily this was sorted out eventually. If you thought this particular leg of the journey would go smoothly, I would question how closely you were paying attention to the rest of this blog. No, the flight was delayed an extra 90 minutes, because of course it was, and my eventual arrival in Florence was looking more and more dubious.

All Roads Lead to Rome, But Only Some to Florence

We touched down at Fiumicino Airport around 10:30 p.m. Finally, Italia! After a quick train ride to Roma Termini, all I needed to do was hop on a late train to Florence and… there were no more for the night. There were outgoing trains to seemingly every town in the entire country, but no Florence. It was around this point when my grip on reality started slipping. The prospect of roughing it in the station until the first train left at 6 a.m. began to break me. The idea of calling it quits and returning to the States a defeated man seemed almost more appealing. A phone call with my mother refocused me, however, and I settled for an overnight bus to Florence departing at 1:45 a.m. My Uber ride to the bus station with my trusted driver, Adam mimicked the great Roman emperors as they would parade through the city’s streets in their grand chariots pulled by mighty steeds.

After an hour waiting at the bus stop, the journey continued. Again, I have been cursed with an inability to doze off on moving vehicles, so I settled in for four hours of staring at the seat in front of me. It was on this bus that I realized that the date was August 30, which meant I was now 22 years old. I have never been one to enjoy the pageantry of a birthday celebration, but this particular milestone felt especially irreverent. As the sun rose on the Tuscan countryside and another year of my life, we pulled into Villa Costanza, a final destination further from the city center than I had anticipated. I grit my teeth and ordered a whopping €50 Uber to take me to Corso Tintori, where I would, at long last, acquire the key to my apartment, where sleep awaited me.

A Traveling Companion to Lucca

As I sat at the train station in Pescia, listening to the exasperated chatterings of the people around me in languages I mostly couldn’t understand, I realized the key mistake I made during my previous Sisyphysian travel extravaganza. Though I was going from country to country, city to city, airport to airport, I saw many familiar faces during those days on the move. A number of the people I sat alongside on that first plane out of Chicago were still with me on the final flight to Rome. Even still, I never made connections with them, after due to exhaustion, agitation, or plain indifference.

This time, I did not want to make the same error twice. So, I introduced myself to a man close to my age traveling with his mom. He spoke English and Italian and took the bus with me to Lucca. We talked the whole way about Italy, America, and what we each like (and dislike) about our home countries. Upon arriving in Lucca, we exchanged contact info, and he told me to reach out when I go to his home city of Venice. I had gone from a solo traveler to someone making valuable connections.

Lucca was beautiful, and a more than worthwhile place to spend a day. The walls were exactly as advertised; I walked the entire perimeter and then some. I climbed the Guinigi Tower and got a view of the whole town, then had the most delicious gelato I’ve ever tasted. Thankfully, my return trip to Florence went smoothly; the train actually went as far as it was supposed to this time. These lengthy transportation mishaps, while frustrating in the moment, demonstrated to me the real joy that can come from being a world traveler. Plus, they make for good stories, which is always nice.

Four Nights in the Desert

written by Lily Carroll for SPEL: Journalism

Working and studying in Florence the entire summer has been a great mix of work and play. As the workload began to grow, I decided to plan a trip I could look forward to and motivate me to work extra hard. On the day of our last exam, I could barely contain my excitement. With my pen on paper, I felt both prepared and full of excitement. I knew that whenever I finished my test, I would be bound for Marrakesh. Five days and four nights in the desert, a guided, group tour through Viaje en Marruecos. I had some friends go on this trip in the past, and they said it was the best trip they took. When the opportunity presented itself, I jumped on board immediately. I find that sometimes I can get overwhelmed planning, and feel like I’m frantically picking what to do. It was such a luxury to be able to be completely present, having all activities taken care of.

We landed in Marrakesh Friday morning, and were brought to our first hotel of the trip. The heat outside exceeded my expectations, so I was elated when I saw the crystal blue swimming pool outside. The first day was spent relaxing in the sun and water, taking in the gorgeous views around us. We reflected on the things we have accomplished in our courses and internships, and how rewarding this day felt. Only a few short weeks and we would be back in the United States, preparing for the next semester at our University. With rosy cheeks, we left the pool and eagerly got ready for the morning ahead, where we would meet the rest of our group, and venture deeper into the desert.

With a group of students from all over the country, we ventured to a small village just between our Marrakesh and the Sahara desert. We observed all sorts of tradition and craftsmanship as we explored the desert. People in small huts painted with natural materials, permanently sealed by fire. We visited the location where Hollywood films and shows have been recorded, such as Gladiator and Game of Thrones. Then, we climbed to the highest point in the village. This was no easy feat, but so rewarding to take in the beautiful architecture and desert scenery. Finally, we sat down for our first authentic Moroccan meal. We were showered with delicious bread, vegetables, and fruits of all kinds, and the most delicious chicken I’ve ever had. Kittens roamed freely and joined us for our table scraps. With picturesque stops along the way, we continued on to our hotel of the day to relax and get to know our tour group. Together we swam, shared a meal, and swapped stories of our summer travels. It was so moving to share such a unique experience with people ranging from Minnesota to Mexico that quickly became good pals.

Finally, we embarked onto the main event: camping in the Sahara desert. A long, windy drive up and around mountains through whirling sand built the anticipation for this incredible opportunity. We stopped along the way at a small boutique with kaftans, pashminas, and all sorts of authentic Moroccan crafts and garments. We took pictures in the traditional outfits, received henna tattoos, and got our own pashminas to wear in the desert. Then, we dropped off our luggage at a hotel that had the most gorgeous pool with a view of the sand dunes. After a few hours of swimming, it was time to ride camelback into the desert for a night of camping.

As I slowly admired the Sahara on the back of a camel, I was taken aback at the magnitude of this desert. Enormous, mounding sand dunes as far as the eye could see made everything else seem so small. Ten feet in the air, my head was on a constant swivel, completely awestruck and overcome with gratitude. I felt almost as if every twist and turn this summer had led me to this moment. The thousands of photos could never do justice to the sights to behold in the desert, and the powerful emotions this place evoked. The camels knelt down as we approached a row of buggies for us to ride through the dunes. I could not contain my excitement, kicking up sand as I ran to meet the passenger seat of the very first one.

Through laughter and the sandy breeze, we zoomed over and around the dunes. A terrible driver myself, I was extremely nervous to switch into the driver’s seat. When I finally did, I felt more free than I ever have. With sand in my eyes, I slammed the accelerator and my inhibitions melted away. We came upon a steep dune, where we slid down on a snowboard, and climbed all the way back up. This adrenaline-packed day wore us out, and after the sunset, we finally arrived at our campsite. Small tents with beds housed us for the evening, with a gathering area where we joined for meals and a drumming performance. After the performance, we were welcomed to play along. We laughed at our mismatched rhythms and were in utter disbelief at all the adventure one day could hold. We stayed up until sunrise and tired ourselves out for the nine-hour bus ride back into town.

Heading back for our last evening before our red eye, we rested and daydreamed about all that we had done in the days past. We caught up on our sleep and were on our way back to Florence. It’s trips like these that have enriched my study abroad experience so much. Expanding beyond Italian culture has been so impactful, and has made Italy feel more and more like home each time I come back. This trip gave me the opportunity to interact with a myriad of cultures, those of which I haven’t gotten to experience in Italy yet. Being able to integrate into multiple countries’ ways of life has been incredibly humbling. Engaging with locals and their way of life has been the best part of traveling, especially with such a rich culture as Morocco. With their patience and understanding, I continue to learn just how much personal and intellectual growth arises from immersing oneself in another culture.

Behind the Scenes of the Palio

written by Alex Daggett for SPEL: Journalism

The light falls onto the street in harsh shadows, with the sounds of crowds and cheers mixing with the sharp rhythmic noise of hooves clacking. Antonio Mula is no stranger to this scene, as he has grown up surrounded by the Palio race and all that goes into it. As he prepares the racehorse, Estupendo for his trial run, he lets out a quick breath to calm himself down. Mula closes his eyes to prepare, letting the world quiet as he focuses on the task ahead. Together, horse and man become one, and they take off down the street.

The Palio di Siena is one of the oldest horse races in the world, taking place annually 45 minutes south of Florence. The Palio is such an important part of Italian culture because of how far back the history of it goes. Officially starting in 1633, this race predates the entirety of the United States. I have never been involved in something that stretches back so far in time, which gave me a new appreciation for the event. There are trials and parties in the days leading up to the official race, which occurs on July 2 every year. This was explained to me by Mula while he gave Estupendo a shower following their practice.

In my time in Florence, I have had the chance to be involved in this historic event, getting a glimpse into this cultural experience. Every horse has a sponsor, and since I am interning with one of the foundations that is sponsoring a participating horse, I was given a first-person vantage point into the race’s preparation.

A month before the event, I took a trip out to visit the race horse, Estupendo, as well as his rider, Antonio Mula. Heading off into the Tuscan countryside from Florence is like taking a car ride into a different world, with a large expansive sky, rolling hills, and fields and fields of grass and vineyards in every direction. The ranch was located about 15 minutes north of Siena, and tucked away in the hills, only accessible by a seldom used gravel road. The ranch itself houses several different horses, as well as goats, cows, and a number of different animals, all roaming the property.

While meeting with Mula, I got to see him take Estupendo out for his practice. The pair galloped across a small track, going in all kinds of different directions and speeds to prepare for the Palio.

What really stood out to me was how much care was put into the animal, and how traditional everything was. Mula always rides bareback — a bizarre feat to me — and does everything very old-school in terms of horse raising.

After Mula finishes hosing off and brushing Estupendo, he leads the horse back to the stable, where he gives him some hay to munch on. Mula takes a great deal of care when it comes to Estupendo, as this horse has never competed in a Palio before. To see the behind the scenes elements of what goes into everything to make a horse ready to race was truly an eye opening experience to me, and it would not have been possible if I never came to Florence. The Palio is such a unique event, and while it has many controversies surrounding it, I hope that it never goes away and we can continue to hold onto this historical event.

The Magic of the Florentine Neighborhoods

written by Ashley Rodio for SPEL: Journalism

Neighborhoods. Something both Denver, my home city, and Florence are all composed of, yet have such different meanings. In Denver, a neighborhood is just where you live. Maybe you are attached to a certain local food joint or park. But in Florence, a neighborhood is where you live. There is an intense sense of pride that comes with the neighborhood you live in as a Florentine, and it’s apparent in every aspect of life. They have personalities, different charms and offerings to locals and tourists alike.

Santa Croce

I live in the Santa Croce neighborhood. It’s my beating heart of Florence, and I can feel the pulse in everything. Below my apartment lays a square of restaurants, vibrant as ever but only at night; it waits to come alive. I hear words in every language, see people of every decent, and smell the vast arrays of cuisine on display. Here lies the Santa Croce Basilica, where I pass on my way to class everyday. I have seen proposals, polo matches, and every celebration under the sun. I sit on the stoop with the painter who lives next door to my apartment. We sip cappuccinos and pet the dogs that trot by, and he tells me about his life in Yugoslavia.

Santo Spirito

I could never write enough about the Santo Spirito neighborhood, the area I frequently brave the cross-river trek to enjoy. My favorite tradition, Sundays in front of the Basilica di Santo Spirito, stems from this neighborhood. At the Sunday market I meet the Florentine vendors. I hear the stories of the lavender man, with fields long spanning the Tuscan countryside. He shows me the lavender soap covers his wife spends hours making. She couldn’t make the trip to the city. The Santo Spirito neighborhood holds the esteemed Pitti Palace, the Boboli gardens sprawling along the rear. I leave this place with a sore neck for days, as I can’t tear my gaze away from the intricate ceiling artworks in the Palace.

Santa Maria Novella

The neighborhood that first greeted me when I stepped out of the train station: Santa Maria Novella. My first introduction to the city I have been calling my newfound home. It stretches beyond the Arno River’s right bank, fitting, as the neighborhood flows with art and culture. Florence’s main exhibition center lies here, forming the Palazzo dei Congressi, the Palazzo degli Affari and the Fortezza da Basso. In front of the Basilica of Santa Maria Novella, the keeper of medieval renaissance art, I sit on the curb and sipped cappuccinos. I watch locals and tourists alike flit by. A new perfume aroma fills the air, presumably from the perfumery. Here, I feel peace.

San Giovanni

The San Giovanni neighborhood, the real beating heart of Florence. The neighborhood with, arguably, the most tourists. This isn’t a bad thing. I watch people who have spent their entire lives saving to experience the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore, mouths agape as they take it all in. The marble of the cathedral gleams as I pass by. I can never take enough pictures. I hear children laugh as they go round and round on the carousel in the historic Piazza della Repubblica. At night it comes alive, with music filling my ears and lights lining the streets.

The first time I really understood the neighborhood pride of Florence was during Calcio Storico, the classic Florentine sport. While violent, the game brings local comradery to light, displaying long fostered honor to the tourists. The parade, held before the first Calcio Storico game, marched through the piazza while I was on my way home. I remember being frozen, so intrigued by the chants, the Italians dressed in their neighborhood colors. Reds, blues, purples flash by, people from the streets joining in. Flags waved, and young children ran alongside their parents, gleaming at who they might one day become. It was incredible. Although I am an American, I was so proud of these people and what they were standing for. It was more than just a game, it was family ties.

I may have only lived in Italy for a couple of months, but the importance of the Florentine neighborhoods has become increasingly prominent to me. This pride, these charms, are irreplaceable, and I’m so lucky to have experienced a piece of each location.

Traveling Alone to Study Abroad: SAY YES!

Studying Abroad Alone: My Fears, Making Friends, and Why You Should Do It

written by Margaret Hann for SPEL: Public Relations

I’ll admit, I was scared. Studying abroad in Florence would be my first time leaving the United States, and I would be traveling completely alone. However, studying abroad has always been a dream of mine since I was young. My mom studied abroad in London for a semester during her college years, and ever since she shared her experiences, I have dreamed of doing the same. I knew I wanted to make my dream a reality, but the prospect of doing it without any of my friends joining me, on the other side of the world, was daunting.

Regardless, I signed up for the six week summer program at Florence University of the Arts – The American University of Florence. I wanted to experience the world and fulfill my dreams. Although I was nervous, I knew it was something I had to do. To make the most of my experience abroad, and to meet new people before settling in Florence, I also enrolled in the pre-week travel course, Cultural Introduction to Italy. I scheduled my flight – Detroit to Philadelphia to Rome – and began my preparations. Despite my best efforts, I never felt fully ready; it was simply a leap of faith.

Airport Trouble

I hit my first challenge at the airport. Navigating an airport can be daunting, especially when you’re alone and it’s your first time out of the country. Even before I arrived, my flight had been delayed, and my connecting flight had to be rescheduled. Once I went inside, I checked in my large suitcase and asked the attendant about my new flight information. I was now rescheduled to go from Detroit to Philadelphia to London and would end in Rome. I inquired further about my options in case of additional delays. The woman mentioned there were flights with more transfers, but in the worst case, I might have to stay overnight in a hotel and wait for flights the next day if international flights were unavailable. I waited at the gate for departure and made sure to keep an eye on all of my stuff. When traveling alone, it’s scary. It’s nerve wracking. I tried to remind myself that I know more than I think I do, to trust my instincts, but still not be afraid to ask for help.

When I arrived in Philadelphia after my first flight, I had already missed my new connection due to continued delays of my flight. Myself and two others I had met on the plane were in the same predicament – we were all supposed to be on the London flight that we had now missed because of maintenance. We stuck together to talk to guest services to try and get our flights rescheduled. When we talked to them however, they said there were no more international flights that night for them to put us on, meaning that the worst case scenario had happened. Thankfully, the airport supplied me with a hotel and money for food until my flight the next day at 6:40 pm.

I arrived at the airport early since the hotel checkout was at 2:00 pm. I made sure to keep in contact with the FUA-AUF support team in order to update them on my flight and when I would be arriving so I could meet up with the class. Finally, it was time for my flight and the beginning of my study abroad journey.

The Beginning: Travel Week

After landing in Rome at Fiumicino Airport, I collected my checked luggage. Thankfully, my professor for the Travel Week class had sent me all the necessary information regarding which train to take, the hotel address, and the restaurant I could meet the rest of the class at for group lunch. Navigating the train system was difficult, being from a place without public transportation, but the airport had workers throughout that I could ask for directions or assistance. The machines which sell the tickets are able to be translated to English in order for easier navigation.

Luckily, our hotel was a few minutes walk from the Roma Centrale train station. I was able to check in, drop off my luggage, and change before going to meet the rest of the group for lunch. When I arrived, the group was already seated at the restaurant. I was filled with nervous energy from all the chaos from the flight, navigating the train, and walking to find the group all on my own. Despite this, I pushed myself to introduce myself to my professor, his assistant, and the rest of the students at the table I had joined. Everyone was very friendly and open to meeting new people. This theme was carried throughout the rest of the week, as the group of people I met in the class had become increasingly close and bonded over our adventure together. We all exchanged numbers and shared where we were from, what university we attend back home, and compared what classes we were taking in Florence. After our meal, we continued on to the Colosseum, Palatine Hill, and the Imperial Forum. Our class had a guided tour through the three landmarks, and we were able to listen to our guide with headphones. The history behind the sites was extremely interesting; we learned the myths behind some of the architecture, and were able to discuss as a group and ask the guide questions.

During the week-long course, we visited many Italian cities throughout the central region of Italy. We were given the opportunity to travel to different landmarks and unique Italian sites. We traveled north from Rome to explore multiple Italian Renaissance gardens such as Villa Farnese, Villa Lante, and Sacro Bosco. We learned of the historical meanings behind the structure of the gardens and the different statues. As a group, we continued north along the coast to visit Viareggio: the city of Carnevale, and two of the cities in Cinque Terre, Vernazza and Monterosso. Each day, we were allotted free time to explore on our own or with others in the group. All of us grew extremely close and would often eat dinner together, even if it wasn’t an official group meal. Throughout the entire week-long trip, we had visited 15 different cities in total and had arrived in Florence with long-lasting friendships.

My Classes at FUA-AUF

When selecting my classes for study abroad, I knew I wanted to immerse myself in the Italian culture and community in Florence. Luckily, FUA-AUF offers a range of classes that enable their students to connect to the culture, the food, and the local community. For FUA-AUF, it is extremely important for students in all of their classes to be interconnected with the Florentine community. One of the classes offered is the Food, Wine, and Culture in Italy course. Through this course, we learn about the history of Italy, regional differences, and of course, the food and wines of Italy.

The class takes on a very interactive approach, as it is considered an experiential learning course. This means we learn in a hands-on learning environment, allowing us to cook historical dishes, taste local wines, visit restaurants in Florence, as well as work a shift at FUA-AUF’s student-run restaurant, Ganzo.

The class typically consisted of a lecture followed with an interactive experience. The class encourages the students to explore and interact with the city. We visited local restaurants, markets, and were able to sample classic Italian foods such as arancini and cannoli. Another part of the class we enjoyed were the cooking labs: we were able to both cook and taste dishes from different Italian eras. Two of the Renaissance Era dishes we made were Pollo alle Prugne and Schiacciata Bianca Cappello.

I also decided to sign up for the Special Project: Experiential Learning in Public Relations (SPEL PR) course which resembles an internship. For this course, I was put on a team with other students in the PR course where we would work together to manage the image of FUA-AUF. We would attend events hosted by FUA-AUF in collaboration with the local Palazzi Community Center. As a group or individually, we would write press releases advertising the events to the public as well as write articles about the topic. Some of these included a story from a woman who had survived WWII, and a discussion on society and artificial intelligence. As a team, we also managed FUA-AUF’s alumni Instagram account. We planned the posts, researched our audience, and determined a posting schedule.

Making Friends While Abroad

I have to admit that my biggest fear about coming alone to study abroad was that I would remain that way. I was nervous that everyone else in attendance would have come with their friends from their universities and would not be interested in meeting new people. However, once landing in Rome for my pre-week travel course I was delightfully surprised. Many others that I met had also had the courage to travel across the world alone to study abroad. Regardless if others came alone or with others that they knew previously, everyone was very open to meeting new people and making new friends. The travel week prior to the beginning of the session was where I personally made most of my friends as that week helped us to form bonds and friendships. I also made friends with people in my classes and friends of friends I made while studying abroad.

Exploring Europe

Everyone knows that one of the main reasons people come to study abroad is to travel on the weekends. With the different friends I made while in class, during the pre-week, or through other people, we would get together to schedule weekend trips. Throughout my time abroad, I traveled to Amsterdam, Lake Como, Milan, Switzerland, the Amalfi Coast, and Barcelona. Each of these trips I went on was with the friends I made at FUA-AUF. I found that I liked best to travel with other people, however other people that I met had no issue traveling alone. It all depends on your personal preferences.

Regardless, one of the main things to do before traveling is set your expectations, budget, and boundaries. If you aren’t comfortable with leaving Italy, then don’t feel pressured to. Due to Florence’s centralized location, there are many popular Italian cities nearby where students will often participate in day trips and weekend trips to. Using the high-speed trains makes it easy to travel to landmarks such as Pisa, Venice, Milan, Lake Como, and Cinque Terre. You can often find people that you may not be close with who are traveling to places that you want to go, even if your friends are going somewhere else. Part of the experience is that traveling with someone you may not know as well is that it can bring you closer. Before setting your expectations, it is important to research the different countries and cultures of the places you plan

to visit: the currency, the food, the landmarks, and the cost. Cost is very important, and it’s necessary to understand that everyone has different financial situations. Do what works best for you and consider others’ needs as well. An important few things to note is that plans often can change, and it is smart to have a backup plan and be willing to be flexible and schedule loosely. You may not get the chance to travel to every place on your bucket list, and that’s okay!

Studying Abroad Alone: It’s okay

Despite all of my personal fears and the different obstacles I faced, I would not change my experience abroad for the world. The challenges and opportunities are what made it my own. During my time abroad, I experienced personal growth, cultural immersion, life skills, and above all, empowerment. I learned so much more from studying abroad than just what was in my class lectures – living in Florence provided me with so many opportunities to immerse myself in both the city itself and the culture while still having the safety net of the help from FUA-AUF and their staff. They provided me with so many resources and were beyond helpful with navigating the city, traveling, and day-to-day life. In summary, in my time of studying abroad alone, I learned that it is not only okay, but is an experience that I would not change. It has offered me so many unique opportunities for personal, academic, and professional growth which have helped me to become more confident, adaptable, and independent as an individual.