Florence, like highschool has long been a hub of culture, history, art, and finance. You’re supposed to emerge a changed person; worldlier, more cultivated, richer in the soul.

But after spending three nights in this popular city, I felt no different. More tired and frustrated for sure – and OK, we certainly had a little fun – but did it all add up to a life-changing experience?

Not really. Every morning we woke up and mulled over whether we should get out and give it another chance, or whether we should stay in bed, or perhaps blow it off completely and find some other city in Tuscany to while away our time in. I’m glad we committed to her, but in the end, it was merely a landmark in our lives to be ticked off the list. Much like highschool.

You’re probably scoffing at me right now, but read our experiences below before you come to your own verdict.

1. Despite all your pre-planning and studying those guide-books, you’ll still end up hopelessly lost.

Florence is an old, dirty, and busy city. Now I love my old cities – it’s why Europe has always fascinated me. But with those lovely, historic cities, comes antique plumbing (good luck finding a decent shower!), a maze of narrow, unordered streets (you may as well throw those maps away now), and buildings that are ill-equipped for summer (I was this close to buying one of those ridiculous hats with a fan perched on top). You might say that this is all part of the charm of the place, but it just didn’t make me weak at the knees the way Paris did.

2. The wrong people will ruin the summer holidays.

Florence is rife with one my pet hates – tourists. And not just your stock-standard conga-line that pauses long enough for a blurry photo and then is off again at a marathon-pace. These herds of tourists are no gentle sheep baa-ing their way after their flag-toting shepherds. They are a never-ending stampede of elephants, letting nothing stand in their way as they shove you left and right, or just plain bowl you over with a stray shoulder or shopping bag laden with souvenirs.

From the crowded courtyard outside the Duomo so thick it was hard to breathe, to the ungracious, obnoxious comments in the Uffizi, “this is a joke” (spoken by an American woman who clearly had no appreciation for art), we felt utterly suffocated, frustrated and dejected after just six hours braving the streets of Florence. Sixty hours in, we were a thousand-fold more weary. It wore down on us heavier each evening, when we retired to our hotel after yet another exhausting, fruitless day. But that being said…

3. The right people will help you through the most testing of trials.

Our first encounter with a Florentian was as we pulled up in front of De Rose Palace Hotel, desperately looking for parking in a crammed, narrow street. A man runs towards us, waving his arms and then, catching up to us, offers to park our car in an offsite garage.

It turns out that he’s the concierge from our hotel, a friendly chap who, as we discover later, bickers and banters playfully with the receptionist – Carlos and Danielle, a great comedy duo to greet us every morning! In fact, the hospitality in general at the hotel was infallible. The choice at breakfast was wide and varied, certainly enough to keep us happy, and the air conditioning was a welcome retreat from summertime Florence, where most of the buildings did without. Carlos also recommended a great authentic restaurant for dinner on our first night, which brings me to the second “pro” of Florence.

4. A decent feed will get through the worst day.

We knew even as we waited for a table at the small establishment that Trattoria dei 13 Gobbi was obviously a good choice. It was packed with locals, and the waiters barely spoke a word of English. Perfect!

The photos I took are as blurry as my memory, but what I remember the most was a trestle-table near us, filled with a large Italian family, laughing and chatting over an amazing banquet-style dinner. A hefty platter of carpaccio was being handed from person-to-person, each one stopping to take a large sliver of meat to accompany some fresh vegetables.

Meanwhile, we dined on ravioli parcels with a smattering of rich bolognaise, and to top it off, a traditional Italian dessert. The popular biscotti (a dry, crunchy biscuit) dipped in Vin Santo (a sweet dessert wine) – a new favourite for us.

But you don’t have to find a formal restaurant to dine well in Florence. Panini bars and hole-in-the-wall sandwich-eries are rife in the labyrinth of inner city Florence. A delicious lunch on-the-go will put you back only a couple of Euros.

And if you’ve more of a sweet tooth, there is no shortage of establishments to cure that craving. The chocolate stores and candy shops of Florence will blow your mind. Crystal bowls fit for one of Marie Antoinette’s lavish parties line the window dressing of Caffe Scudieri, filled to the brim with sugared almonds, jellied fruits, candied flower petals, delicate biscuits, chocolate-covered pastries, and ice-creams to melt the summer heat away. A favourite for brides-to-be, we can’t help but bag a few treats for ourselves.

There is also a Lindt shop near the Duomo that rivals any other that I’ve seen. Walls upons walls stocked to the rafters with delicious balls of milk chocolate in every flavour under this Tuscan sun, crates of bonbons throughout the store, even halloween-themed delicacies to our delight!

5. Once you get away from the sheep, there is inspiration everywhere.

The birthplace of the Renaissance, it is only fitting that the Uffizi Gallery houses some of the most amazing artwork in Italy. In fact the building alone incites a huge sigh from my husband – the exposed beams and classic architecture is a work of art itself. But he’s not the only one enraptured. Suddenly realising that I’m in the center of Roman Mythology, I mutter a quiet “yes!” under my breath and stare enthralled at room after room of this hallowed place, slowly walking the halls that were once frequented by the greats; treading in the footsteps of Da Vinci and Leonardo themselves!

In additional to the old classics, there was some newer work on display as well. Jan Fabre turns out to be a poet and artist after our own hearts.

An excerpt from his diary, dated 9th October 1979:

Today I’m disappearing again.
I existed so little
that I didn’t even have a personality anymore.
I was imprisoned in my own body.
My body was a grave whose gravestone
people sometimes raised to see
if the living corpse was still living there.

An excerpt from his diary, dated 17th October 1979:

Went back to the Uffizi museum, strolled where
Leonardo Da Vinci and
Michaelangelo came to to relax.
Sometimes I can hardly grasp these facts.
It must be true, but it’s so abstract.
Caravaggio’s Medusa is pure pornography.
That painting got under my skin.
It has an unrivalled beauty.
A beauty that caresses and bites.
When I see a woman with her mouth open
I shall think of Caravaggio.

The best thing about the Uffizi is what a difference “no camera’s allowed” makes to the tourist crowds. Like a flash flood they appear and disappear in an instant, with the mentality, “if we can’t take a photo, why linger at all?“. The irony of course being that the original photographs are hung on the walls; each painting capturing a moment in time that we, as privileged pilgrims, are privy to hundreds of years after the taking!

Unlike the Louvre, you’ll have to book in advance if you want to visit the Uffizi, or you could be stuck waiting hours to be admitted entrance. Luckily, our friendly concierge reserved two tickets for us the day before. You can also do so yourself via the website.

But don’t fret if you don’t make it to the Uffizi. There is art everywhere you go in Florence. The grand Duomo is spectacular by night (when there are less, if any tourists at all!);

And the stonework on the crypts and tombs inside the Basilica of Santa Croce are an understated surprise;

The Verdict?

Yes, there were good and bad points above, but what it really comes down to is what we chose to take away from it all.

On our very last night in Florence, we made the trek up the steep hill to Piazzale Michelangelo, the perfect place for a photo of Florence from above. It was crowded as expected, but as the sun set, so did most of the tourists disappear. We grabbed a rickety old table at the outdoor cafe/bar and ordered a couple of cocktails, whipping out a deck of cards we bought earlier in the day. Night fell over the city as she, in turn, lit up.

And there she was, glittering from afar. Although gritty and grey in the harsh light of day, she now glowed like a debutante. Basking in this new perspective of Florence, we reminisce on the random street party we stumbled upon yesterday. We had each grabbed a free drink and bopped along awkwardly to the Europop with the locals. Now, we laugh at how out-of-place we must have looked, like a couple of teenage nerds trying to look cool at a house party… Funny that, the power of hindsight.

Meanwhile, a young Japanese couple pose with sparkling Florence as a backdrop, first like this and then like that. My husband is inspired and pulls out our Canon as well. I tease him, saying he’s as bad as the tourists but his response – “I want you to remember where you were when you were 29” – melts my resolve.

The snapping of the camera is drowned out by a busker playing on the steps – English songs, and tourist favourites – but I don’t mind so much right now. (He thinks its corny but I love corny.) The piña colada’s have worked their magic and some where between meeting that kitten on the ascent to the Piazzale and that American couple offering to take a photo of us — I’ve forgiven Florence.

Yes, all that stress, all those tears shed in sheer frustration, the exhaustion and the disappointment, has fallen behind the lights of nighttime Florence. All those bad memories, gone, faded away in the shadow of the Botticellis, of the panini’s, of the Carlo’s.

And, much like highschool, all that remains is not the pain of the last several days – or several years – but the happy nostalgia of the smiles we shared, the fun we made ourselves, and the journey we have walked together.

So, what do you think? Is Florence worth a visit? Are the clamouring crowds worth seeing Venus in the flesh? I’ll leave it to you to decide. 🙂

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