Travel – Page 2 – Studio Josie

Free Man in Paris: Part Three

Every day in Paris started with a slight headache.

Those headaches you get when you know you’ve slept too much.

Perhaps it was the incessant cloudiness that made my head hurt. It might have been the fact that I was sleeping in a hostel bed, listening to people attempting to stay quiet as they packed their suitcases at 5 a.m. Or maybe it was me being in my head so much that did it. Whatever it was, it remained — but it quickly faded each day once I got up and out of bed.

This day was one of my favorites, so I decided to start it in one of my favorite ways: with a movie.

I found a showing of Wes Anderson’s long-awaited film, The French Dispatch (hence this post’s opening song), at a movie theater just a couple of stops away by metro. I am a huge Wes Anderson fan, and since this movie took place in France, I knew that I just had to see it while I was in Paris.

I also hadn’t been to a movie theater outside of the USA before, and boy, is it different! By different, I mean small and simple and quaint. No bright-blue Slush Puppies and Butterfinger Bites in sight. My popcorn even tasted healthy.

An awkward self-timer photo I took in the hostel before my embark into the city. I rewore two pairs of clothes for five days, but I still felt like I overpacked.

I got to the theater quite early, so I stopped at a little bar down the street for a cappuccino & a croissant. It was not as good as the cappuccini I drink every day in Rome, but this was to be expected. I did enjoy it standing up, however: Breakfast at Tiffany’s style.

The theater was small, and I was the first one in. It filled up pretty quickly after about ten minutes, and pretty soon I was irritated by the amount of people beside me.

Shortly into the film, I remember realizing that I was not paying attention. I was biting all my nails off, likely looking very visibly anxious. I quickly grew sick of my popcorn, which had been my lunch that day, and wished that I had gotten something more substantial. I tried to snap back into it, paying extra close attention to Wes Anderson’s brilliant use of color and minute detail, but still, I had a hard time focusing on the stories, thinking about everything in the world that was not The French Dispatch.

Once the movie finished, I’d already known exactly what I was going to do next, since I’d been planning from the moment it had started. Alas, if you’re wondering what I thought of the movie, my thoughts probably aren’t the most meaningful. I do remember that my favorite chapter was The Concrete Masterpiece. But I also remember deciding that The Royal Tenenbaums is still my favorite of his films.

I left the theater and began heading back to the hostel. I was going to go back and grab a couple of things before heading out for the rest of the evening: my ultimate goal for the day was to see the Eiffel Tower up close.

I decided to check out the roof of the hostel right before leaving. The sky was finally blue, and I could see everything:

View of the Sacré-Cœur.

View of the Eiffel Tower.

Seeing Paris from up high for the first time broadened my perspective on the city. It is huge. Obviously. (And the fact that I could get to both of those monuments so quickly just shows how badass their metro system is. )

Here, my brain is a bit fuzzy, and I don’t have anything written down about how I got to the Eiffel Tower. I know I walked a bit to get there, but I definitely didn’t walk from my hostel. I must have stopped somewhere else and then walked the rest of the way.

Whatever the case — I made it. And, of course, it was under construction 😀

I didn’t let it bother me, though. I was standing right in front of a piece of architecture I never thought I’d visit this soon in my life. And while it is, by no means, my favorite piece of architecture, it sure is a meaningful one — and I was finally there.

I walked up towards it, passing couples and friends taking photos in front of it. It was chilly, but the sky was blue, so the whole thing was visible.

I sat on a bench and people-watched for a bit. And if we’re being honest: I was slightly underwhelmed…

I was talking to one of my friends about this recently, how when I see these amazing, world-renowned statues and pieces of architecture, I don’t feel as excited as I should. The reason, I’m sure, is the constant content we have available to us. I’d seen photos of the Eiffel Tower thousands of times before seeing it in person, so when I finally did, my excitement was more of “Wow, you finally made it here!” instead of “Wow, that’s the Eiffel Tower!” Yet another downside of instant gratification.

Anyway, despite the weather, I knew this area would have been packed in the summertime. I’d love to visit again during a warmer season, but I’m glad I got some touristy things out of the way during this trip.

After admiring it from a bench for a little while, I began to wander around. Everywhere I turned, I saw a brand new, seemingly better view of the tower.

I made my way towards the Seine, which I had been wanting to walk alongside since I’d first arrived a few days prior. The sky was slowly fading, but I wanted to squeeze all I could out of it while it was still there.

Being abroad is amazing for so many reasons, but I am a New Englander at heart and was desperately missing fall like I’d always known it. This foliage instantly brought me back.

I walked along the Seine for a while, thinking about the Tiber River back in Rome and how much I love how so many cities have rivers running through them. I truly feel like it makes it much easier to navigate.

I had an hour and a half until the sun would be down, so I decided to take a bit of a detour and find the Arc de Triomphe.

I stopped at a bakery before for a quick pain au chocolat and ate it while walking down Champs-Élysées. I saw the fanciest McDonald’s of my life and bought some chocolate at Jeff de Bruges (thanks, Abby, for the recommendation!). I also bought a copy of Le Monde, a French newspaper, to add to my collection of newspapers.

I walked a lot that day, eventually ending up near the Notre-Dame. I had a bit of a full-circle moment when I saw it, surrounded by construction, at dusk. When I first visited Italy, in 2019, I watched it burn through a small television screen in my hotel room in Sicily, right as it was happening.

And there I was, 2 years later, staring at the physical remnants, building a new memory with them.

This is Pont Notre-Dame in front of one of the most beautiful sunsets I’d seen — and certainly the best one I saw while in Paris. I sat on the bridge and people-watched for a bit, trying to find a place to go for dinner that evening.

The Notre-Dame.

But before heading back to Belleville for dinner, I decided to check out Shakespeare & Company, that famous bookstore you may have seen screen-printed on every other girl’s tote bag (mine included). I got lost in here for a while and bought a few things, admittedly relieved to find a large-ish group of English speakers.

Here’s another view from the bridge, which I walked over again after leaving the bookstore. This one features the Eiffel Tower, which looks 100x prettier at night.

I went back to the hostel quickly and continued doing restaurant research. You’d think I was with a group of five people that evening if you saw how indecisive I was. The thing is, I didn’t get to research too much before the trip, so I knew very little about French cuisine. This is one of the things I regret the most looking back, but I’d say I redeemed myself this evening and the next afternoon.

Since I was staying in Belleville, I decided to look for a place there. It just so happened that there was an Anthony Bourdain-recommended restaurant a few blocks from my hostel, so I looked up directions and decided to check it out.

Eventually, I made it to the restaurant and walked in, asking for a table in sorta-kinda French — only to be turned away by the owner and his family, who were chatting at the tables as I waltzed in. They were closed!

Solo traveling is oh-so-humbling because you literally have to laugh at yourself for your mistakes since no one else is there to do it for you… and if no one is laughing, you will go crazy.

I walked out and found a busier street to find a new restaurant. I glanced at a few menus, but nothing stood out to me, and I was determined to have a really good meal.

If there is a God, I truly believe they were on my side this evening, because this restaurant felt like destiny.

It’s called Le Faitout, and it was entirely vegan. I still dream about this place and about the incredible meal I enjoyed there.

I walked in and asked for a table for one. The owner, who was serving practically the entire small, cozy dining room, came over to me and explained the menu in English. He was one of the nicest people I met on this trip, expressing total pride and excitement for his 100% vegan menu. He recommended a wine to me based on the meal I chose, and he checked in every few minutes to see how I was liking it all. Yet he left me alone long enough to savor it all for myself first, which I am forever grateful for.

Here is what I ate: tempeh tartare, pickled veggies, coleslaw topped with gorgeous watermelon radishes, and fries. I ate every bite, feeling so content and proud of this random-yet-beautiful discovery. For dessert, I had a the richest chocolate mousse of my life that paired beautifully with the red wine. I would pay money to eat this again — and I’m sure, someday, I will.

Besides the kind staff, the restaurant was cozy and warm and dimly lit. It was filled with lively families and friend groups, and I got a front row seat. There was also a cat that hung out on the floor and played with shadows, further proving that there is a God who was kind enough to send me both a cat and a good meal.

I paid, said goodbye, and made my way back to the hostel, feeling a little on edge as I navigated quiet streets in the evening alone. I made it back, though, full and ready for a long sleep before my final day as a free man in Paris.

Free Man in Paris: Part Two

Words and photographs from day three of my solo trip to Paris, France in November of 2021

I’ve been at a standstill writing this series, which isn’t much of a series since I’ve only written the first part.

And then, this week, while walking outside, I felt a breeze. It was short, but it was powerful: it gave me chills, but as I kept walking, the sun warmed my back. For a moment, I felt like I was back in France, in the middle of November, walking out of the metro and into the harsh greyness of the city. I was reminded of this, quickly, and though it escaped my body immediately, it didn’t leave my mind. Since then, the trip has been scattered about in my hard drive of a mind — hence my instant inspiration to continue writing about the trip.

(If you haven’t read part one, you may read it here.)

Following my first real creme brûlée, I walked back to the hostel with a full stomach and a more optimistic mindset. I figured out timing regarding the next day’s plans, and then I slept.

I had scheduled a tour at the Louvre on Airbnb for 2:00. I was happy to be able to sleep in and take a shower that morning without rushing, like I had the previous morning before the bike tour.

I took my time getting to the museum, and, of course, once I walked out of the grand metro station, it began to rain. My clothes grew slightly damp, but I didn’t really mind as I knew I’d be inside for the next few hours. Plus, to complain about rain while in a place as beautiful as Paris just seemed wrong.

I walked around the grounds surrounding the museum, stopping at a little stand for a Nutella crepe — my first one since I’d arrived. It warmed me up and made the spitting sky a little easier to endure. I found a bench to eat on and people-watched for a while, eventually calling my friend Brooke for some company.

It’s always strange calling back home from abroad. It was super early back in Boston, where Brooke was at the time, while I had been up for a few hours. My day looked so much different than hers, and a part of me wished she — or, frankly, anyone — were there with me. This desire slowly dwindled as the trip went on, though, and I ended it glad that I had gone alone.

I signed up for a tour of the museum mostly I am an auditory learner, and I knew that if I was going to visit the Louvre, I was going to leave having learned something. I’m simply no good at reading and retaining things on museum plaques, so I knew some sort of tour was necessary for such an important experience.

This was the tour I did, which highlighted the can’t-miss masterpieces of the museum. The guide, Sylvanie, was fantastic. I was the first to arrive at the meeting spot, so we talked a little bit, and it turns out she went to school in Rome for her master’s degree! One by one, other group members joined us, and once everyone had made it, we all made our way into the museum.

You really can’t understand how big this place is until you visit. This tour only scratched the surface, which I’m glad for, but it made me certain that I need to visit again to see the many works I missed.

I have so many photos, but here are just some of my favorites:

This one was discovered in 1820 by a random farmer in Greece. Imagine just casually coming across this in your yard! If you look closely in person, you can see slight cracks where it’s been attached since it wasn’t found in one piece.

I love pretty much everything by Bernini, but this has to be one of my favorites. The marble mattress is incredible, and as you walk around the whole thing, you realize why it’s called Hermaphroditus.

As I entered this room, I made the internal decision that I need to come back — to everything: to France, to Paris, and to the Louvre itself. I had no idea this room existed; honestly, the only thing I knew about the Louvre was that the Mona Lisa lived there. The fact that there are probably millions of beautiful, unforgettable things within it — and within the city alone — that I’ll likely never see both overwhelmed me and reminded me of why I love travel so much.

An underrated da Vinci masterpiece. Sylvanie explained that this one is oil painted on wood, and you can actually see the wooden texture if you look at it closely.

Alas, the moment you’ve been waiting for. Here she is, in all her glory. The Mona Lisa. I knew she was smaller in real life, but I didn’t realize she’d be that small. I was slightly underwhelmed, but still very excited.

My tour group decided to wait in line to take photos and see it up close. It actually went by much quicker than I expected, and Sylvanie kept us entertained by spitting a million facts about the painting. Long story short, I left the Louvre loving art history more than I ever have. That’s when you know you had a good tour guide.

Me & Mona.

A lovely marble sculpture by Canova. We quickly passed by this one on our way out, but it ended up being one of my favorite things I saw that day.

Once the tour ended, Sylvanie explained that our tickets were still valid and that we could continue exploring the museum if we wanted. I decided to end there, because I knew if I continued I’d get burnt out, and I wanted my last moments at the Louvre to be good ones.

We all said goodbye, and I, being a gift shop connoisseur, naturally made my way towards the shopping area. I bought a few souvenirs and Christmas presents for friends and family and then headed to the metro where I rode back to the hostel.

Riding back to Belleville, I remember standing up, holding my bag of souvenirs, and staring back at my reflection in the train’s window. I was both tired from the day’s activities thus far, and slightly nervous for the evening ahead. It felt weird to me to have so much freedom — I could easily cancel my plans, since nobody was in my way to stop me from doing so.

But instead of letting my nerves get in the way, I embraced the freedom: the freedom I had longed for for as long as I could remember. It’s weird how we desire certain things so much, and then once we’ve got them, they scare the hell out of us.

Once I got back to the hostel, I changed clothes and relaxed for a few minutes. I hadn’t decided on a place to eat dinner, but I didn’t have too much time, so I asked the girls in my room if they knew any good places in the neighborhood. One of them, who was an American living in Istanbul, recommended the pho restaurant that I’d walked past every day on my way to the hostel, so I decided to check it out.

The view from my window seat at Pho 168. The sky had darkened, and I ate pho légumes with some hot tea that evening. It was warm and delicious, and the staff was especially kind. The restaurant wasn’t busy at all — I barely had any neighbors, which was lonely but oddly soothing as I listened to only a few voices echo through the quiet dining room.

When I finished, I went up to the counter to pay before using the bathroom. Then, I ventured out into the cold and rainy night to see Sébastian Tellier — a musician who is absolutely worth enduring shitty weather for.

I hopped on a train and put in my headphones. I traveled for nearly 30 minutes, slightly anxious every time it made a stop for fear that I’d miss mine.

These flowers were the first thing I saw upon exiting the metro. I walked a few blocks and finally arrived at the Salle Pleyel. This performance was part of Pitchfork Paris, and I think it was the final show of the festival.

I arrived just on time and found my seat on the balcony. I was slightly early, but enjoyed watching people on the floor as they mingled, maskless (an odd sight for November of 2021) with drinks in hand.

Right before the show started, “Hard Drive” by Cassandra Jenkins began to play over the speakers. She had performed at the festival the night before, and I’d discovered her just a month prior via that song. It is true poetry, and Pitchfork says it much better than I can in their review:

“As Jenkins figures things out, her band—featuring Stuart Bogie on saxophone, Eric Biondo on drums, and Josh Kaufman on guitar, keys, and fretless bass—settles into a glassy, sophisti-pop groove that glides like a slow journey uphill.”

It’s hard to explain, but I’ve found that certain songs have the power illuminate parts of my mind, even if I’ve listened to them a million times before. Sometimes, they come to me at just the right time, allowing for some sort of realization or epiphany. This evening, that happened twice: the first was during this song, which I could just barely make out over clinking glasses and muffled, incomprehensible words coming from my neighbors.

But still, I felt it in all its glory, like I’d finally made it up that “slow journey uphill” myself. Sitting there, in the middle of a random theater in Paris, I sunk into my seat and closed my eyes briefly. I was proud of myself for making it here, and for making this evening happen. I clung tight to the moment, trying extra hard to store it inside my own personal hard drive.

The show itself was merveilleux. It was also the first indoor concert I’d attended since 2019. The lighting was simple but super cool and colorful, much like Tellier himself. And I’ll never forget is his stage presence: he is the first performer I’ve ever seen smoke a cigarette during multiple numbers. His slow, near-stumbling movements were quite entertaining to watch over a loud, eccentric, synthpop adventure.

Then, when the show began to wind down, I knew what was coming: “La ritournelle.” It’s his most popular song, but it’s my favorite of his, and it’s also one of my favorite songs ever. I love everything about it, even down to the name: la ritournelle is such a beautiful word (in Italian, it’s ritornello, which fittingly rhymes with bello).

Like “Hard Drive,” I’d listened to it a million times before, but I think seeing it live will live in my “Best Concert Memories of All Time” mental list forever. It is a song that transports me every time I listen to it. It’s an escape from reality, only this time, I realized that it was the soundtrack to my reality. I was living “La ritournelle”: I could hear every breath and beat and note that existed and danced around me for a whole seven-and-a-half minutes. It was magic, and I hope I never forget it.

I left right after the show ended and decided to Uber back to the hostel, since it was late and I didn’t feel like being on the metro for another half-hour. As I sat in the back of the car, I remember feeling very small watching the city fly by. It was a good kind of small, though; it was one that reminded me of all the other magic moments I had yet to experience.

Stay tuned for the next few parts of this series, where I’ll share more photos and stories from the rest of my trip!

A day in Florence

But first, a song for you, because Florence, Italy isn’t the only Florence I love.

Last time I visited Florence, I left knowing I’d come back. There’s something about this city — its easy accessibility from Rome; its not-too-overwhelming size; its location in relation to the rest of Tuscany; and, obviously, its food — that keeps me thinking about it and wanting to return.

Yesterday, I did, along with my friend Lauren. We spent the day in beautiful Firenze, and I was able to see parts of the city I hadn’t seen last year.

I think I’ll always have a special place in my heart for Florence because it was the first solo trip I ever took. And whenever I think about doing another solo trip (which is quite often), it’s the place that always comes to mind and that always makes me eager to travel again.

We left Roma Termini around 8:30 a.m and arrived at Santa Maria Novella station at around 10:00 a.m. Lauren had never been to Florence, so I made a pretty detailed itinerary to ensure that we’d hit all the must-see spots I was familiar with, while also seeing some places I hadn’t been able to check out last year.

Our first stop was Caffè Gilli, the oldest cafe in Florence which I visited last time and loved. It’s definitely not the cheapest breakfast spot, but it is so special, and the service is wonderful. I feel like I’m watching a choreographed dance as waiters juggle trays of gorgeous pastries, or baristas effortlessly froth milk for cappuccini.

Here’s what we got: for Lauren, un cornetto al cioccolato & una ciocolatta calda, and for me, un bombolone (the pastry I eat pretty much every day for breakfast that I will miss so dearly this summer) & un cappuccino.

After breakfast, we headed out to see some of the must-see sights in the historical center of Florence.

In my bedroom in Rome, I am constantly looking out the window down at the street. I watch people walk as they head to work or to school or to the bar, and it’s rare that anyone actually looks up. So I try and look up as much as I can, when I remember, and it’s always fun to spot fellow people-watchers.

We walked towards Piazza del Duomo and it became immediately clear that tourist season has begun. I wish I counted how many tour groups we saw throughout the day; it had to be at least 10.

This entire piazza is unreal. The tickets to enter the main structures are a little pricey, but next time I visit I need to tour all three of the masterpieces: the cupola, the duomo, and the bell tower.

After admiring the piazza, we made our way towards another one: Piazza della Signoria, which is home to a bunch of statues and Palazzo Vecchio.

This one is the one that always holds a spot in the back of my mind: Rape of the Sabines by Giambologna.

I’ve got a thing for taking photos of empty or half-finished drinks people leave on the sidewalks very often here in Italy. Here’s a recently-finished spritz.

And here’s a pretty much perfect row of vespas.

I’ll admit, whenever I travel, I always do more research about the food than the actual historical aspects. Before returning to Florence this time, I did even more research about Tuscan and Florentine cuisine. I had some pretty incredible food experiences here last year, so I wanted to make sure I could say the same this time.

I had already tried one of the famous Florentine street foods, the lampredotto panino, which is made with meat from the fourth stomach of the cow. I loved it, and I knew that I had to find another great panino this time.

I found two places that were highly-rated amongst Italians and ended up going with this place, I Fratellini. You know when you just know the restaurant you chose was the right one? Yeah, I knew that this was the right one the very second I stopped in front of it. The line out the door said enough, but the small, hole-in-the-wall vibe was the selling point.

Customers are encouraged to grab a paper menu while they wait in line so no time is lost once they get to the register. I eyed the extensive menu filled with panini (all of them priced at four euro): prosciutto, mozzarella, tonno, finocchiona, porchetta, mortadella… I felt more indecisive than I’ve ever felt in my entire life.

I alternated between three panini for about five minutes, and then decided to go with the very first one on the menu, since they said it was one of their specialties. It was a panino of prosciutto crudo, crema di formaggio, & rucola (prosciutto, soft cheese, and arugula).

I ordered it at the small storefront, where one man was taking orders and running the register, and another was preparing drinks. There must have been a kitchen somewhere in the back where some extremely hardworking people were cranking out panini by the minute.

The second I took a bite, I knew that there is no bad panino at this place: anything I ordered was bound to be delicious.

The bread was tough but not too much that it was hard to bite into. The prosciutto was slightly stringy and perfectly salty, and the cheese — oh, my god. It was like a cream cheese, but it had the texture of chèvre, and it was like heaven. I wish you could taste it. And I wish I could eat it every single day.

From there, Lauren and I split up for a little while. She wanted to see the Statue of David, which I saw last time, so I got to roam around a bit on my own. I wanted to check out the Mercato Centrale, so I walked about 15 minutes to get there.

It’s basically two floors of foodie heaven. The top floor felt like an extremely elevated mall food court. It was crazy busy, so I decided not to get anything there. If I lived in Florence, though, I know exactly where I’d be doing my shopping.

Next, I stopped by Bar Vivoli for some much-needed gelato.

I was considering trying a new gelateria to break from routine since this is the one I’d visited last year. However, Vivoli makes some of the very best gelato I’ve ever tasted, so naturally, I had to come back. I had to get the same flavors, too: pera e caramella & fragola. Perhaps this will be a Florence tradition for me: it’s just too damn good not to visit every time.

The pear/caramel combo is insane, and while Fatamorgana here in Rome is hard to beat, Vivoli’s pear is slightly sweeter, which I love. There are bits of caramel flakes that create the most complex texture with the slightly-grainy pear. I can’t get enough of this flavor, so I do not regret playing it safe.

It’s also the most charming little gelateria ever. I love the neon cursive font.

This church, Chiesa del Santi Simone e Giuda, is right across from Vivoli. Lauren met back up with me, and we decided to step in and check it out. We had the whole place to ourselves, so we took advantage and rested a few minutes inside. I cannot believe that I can just walk into places that date back to the 1100s here — and that they still look this beautiful.

This elaborate wood ceiling stopped me in my tracks. It also happens to feature my favorite color.

After exploring the church and resting for a bit, we began to walk towards the river. We walked through the Uffizi Gallery’s piazza where tons of artists had their pieces for sale outside.

I wasn’t too eager to see Ponte Vecchio again, but it felt necessary to show it to Lauren. It’s one of the busiest and most touristy places in all of the city, but its history is quite cool.

I do think it’s more fun to look at it from afar, though; after all, you can’t see the bridge and all its beauty while on the bridge.

We walked over the Arno and began a longer stroll towards Piazzale Michelangelo. I’d wanted to check this out last time but decided against it, and honestly, I’m glad I waited! It was more fun with another person, cause walking a million stairs and steep hills isn’t so fun to do alone (mostly because there’s no one to complain with).

The weather was so perfect, so even though this was a pretty intense uphill climb, it was just nice to be in the sun. And, of course, the view let me know that it was 100% worth it…

Like, come on! Florence is a painting and a poem and a fairytale all squished into one city.

Here’s another with a horizontal view. I spotted a church a little further up the piazzale, and we decided that (somehow) we could bear to do some more climbing.

This is what I had spotted and what we checked out for a little while: Abbazia di San Miniato al Monte. The inside boasted some gorgeous frescoes, but I am so impressed by the facade. Its green and white marble is very reminiscent of the structures in the Piazza del Duomo.

And here’s me, smiling at literally no one.

(Also, I’m no fashion blogger, but I must say: this skirt is one of my favorite things I’ve ever thrifted. I found it a few years ago at Salvation Army for only three dollars.)

After taking photos and resting inside the abbey, we walked down all the hills and stairs and paid one euro to use the public bathroom. I wanted to show Lauren Piazza Santo Spirito since it was one of my favorite places I’d visited last time. We walked quite a bit and had aperitivo there. I didn’t take any photos, but we ate some of my beloved pappa al pomodoro alongside some drinks before walking back over the river for dinner.

I made a reservation at Trattoria Marione Al Trebbio for 7:00 p.m., which is quite early for Italian standards. They had just re-opened for dinner, so we were one of the first to sit down. I was very proud of this restaurant selection, which I found last-minute but had a good feeling about.

As we ate, a huge group of Americans, likely on a food tour, sat at a long table behind us. Their accents sounded very Bostonian, which was so funny to listen to. One woman, who was extremely loud and Lois Griffin-esque, said, as the table clinked wine glasses, “When in Rome… or, when in Florence!” to which the entire table responded with a cacophony of laughs and howls. It was quite funny, and I felt, just for a second, like I was back in the states.

I ordered la ribollita, which is a classic Tuscan bread soup, similar to the texture of pappa al pomodoro. I don’t even know how to describe it, other than the fact that it is the most flavorful mix of vegetables and beans and bread. I’ve been dying to try it, and wow was it good. It’s always the least photogenic dishes that taste the best. But seriously — I am so excited to learn how to make it and to eat it again someday.

Also, as seen, a glass of Chianti, because even though it’s not my favorite… you can’t go to Tuscany and not drink Chianti!

Following dinner, which didn’t take nearly as long as I thought, we strolled a little more around the historical center and then eventually made our way back to the train station. I bought some chocolate at Venchi, the only storefront that was still open inside Santa Maria Novella, and we waited for about an hour for our train to arrive at 9:43.

I read on the train so that I wouldn’t fall asleep. A man next to me observed some sheet music on his laptop and played air piano with his fingers. And after an hour and a half, we were back in Rome.

I am really happy with how the day turned out. My itinerary was pretty much followed to a T! We saw everything we wanted to see, and I ate everything I wanted to eat. We walked around 30,000 steps in total, but it was totally worth it. I feel so lucky to be able to take day trips to such incredible places.

Ti amo tanto, Firenze… a presto. ❤