Faced with an overwhelming number of subsequent Italian destinations, we settled on Florence, one of Kaberi’s favorite cities. Having visited twice before with her parents, Kaberi thought it only appropriate that she revisit the romantic Tuscan capital with Vik.We arrived in Florence just past ten at night after first flying to Rome, catching a connecting flight to Pisa, waiting for an evasive toiletries bag and then taking a night bus to the city center. Vik had reserved a room at an upscale guesthouse a few blocks away from the city’s Santa Maria Novella train station, and the two of us trudged with luggage in tow searching vainly for 18 Via della Strada. Florence’s confusing address system (with outdated numbers flanking current ones) and a lack of guesthouse signage conspired to lead us past our intended destination none the wiser.
Once we finally found our lodging, we immediately appreciated its elusiveness. As a small, authentic home with only ten uniquely-decorated rooms, Casa Howard was far from a run of the mill hotel. On our first night, we stayed in the Library bedroom, with floor to ceiling books in the sleeping area and original mosaic tiles on the bathroom floor. We spent the remainder of our stay in the owner’s suite, boasting an eclectic, New York loft feel in the living and bedroom areas in sharp contrast to the red claw-foot tub and chandelier in the bathroom. Serving as a welcome respite from Florence’s heat and crowds, the guesthouse (save for spotty Internet access) was a perfect oasis.
With our accommodations situated near the Santa Maria Novella, we opted to make the house of worship our first stop on the following day. After appreciating its architecture, interior frescoes and displayed artwork, we commenced a walking tour of the entire city. We began by admiring the multi-colored exterior of the Duomo before moving on to the Piazza della Signoria and ending at the various shops of the Ponte Vecchio. With Vik content to appreciate Florence’s architecture from the outside, Kaberi was profoundly thankful that she had toured the requisite sights on previous visits with her customary rigor. After a full day, we finally conceded defeat when our aching feet demanded rest and our ears craved sanctuary from the assault of yet another indiscreet American accent.
The next morning, we discovered that we were staying literally next door to one of Concierge.com’s consummate insider spots, a perfume and herbal remedy purveyor founded by Dominican monks. After stopping to make a small purchase or two, we made our way to a recommended nearby trattoria with traditional, shared cafeteria-style tables. Underwhelmed by the offerings, including the recommended signature dish, we began to question the eatery’s authenticity, especially after noticing several American tourists ordering identically and spying a framed check signed by Steven Spielberg on the wall.
In the interest of venturing off the beaten path (not an easy feat for Florence in July), we opted for the city’s newly opened Museo Nazionale Alinari della Fotografia. The museum reinforced Kaberi’s lifelong ambition to be a National Geographic photographer while commanding Vik’s undivided attention for the next several hours (he pronounced it his favorite venue in Florence). The exhibits led us through the history of photography while providing mesmerizing old photographs of some of the stops on our trip (including one of the Gaza pyramids from 1851). Vik marveled at a collection of historical photos that included an image of Mussolini getting arrested at a rally in the 1920s. Meanwhile, Kaberi was enthralled by an exhibit depicting the development of the camera, particularly because her dad had taught her on one of the models now carefully displayed behind protective glass.
In the evening, unable to choose between a number of intriguing options, we opted to try as many as possible. We ventured south for a first course on the riverfront at Beccofino, then crossed back over the bride to sample wine at Cantinetta Antinori before ending at Carabe for gelato. As we made our way back to the hotel, we congratulated ourselves for our much-improved navigational abilities after only two days in town.
On our last full day in Florence, we fortified ourselves with cappuccino, hot chocolate and chocolate croissants at Piazza della Signoria’s Rivoire, a converted chocolate factory. From the café, we promptly positioned ourselves in line for our 9:30 a.m. admission to the Uffizi. We made our way through the collection with the help of the museum’s audioguide. Upon completion, Vik pronounced that the Florentine Renaissance was his favorite collection, a bold statement from someone who had never even heard of Botticelli’s Birth of Venus or Primavera a few hours prior.
From the Uffizi, Kaberi led us across the river to il Torchino, an artisan paper store removed from the touristed paths, where she ordered custom-made photo albums to hold the thousands of photographs taken during our travels. With each dwarfing in size our wedding album, Kaberi fully expects to scare off any prospective viewers.We doubled back across the river to Trattoria Cibreo, an authentic Tuscan trattoria in an out-of-the-way location. After a mile-long trek, we were rewarded with a rustic meal surpassing any other we had in Italy. Sufficiently motivated, we each ordered a primi and secundi course to savor the chef’s culinary talents. After the satisfying meal, we stopped at the Santa Croce Church to see Michelangelo’s, Galileo’s and Machiavelli’s tombs and Dante’s memorial. We never contemplated so many eminent historical figures being buried in the same building.
The piece de la resistance of our visit to Florence was a Michelin three star-rated meal at Enoteca Pinchiorri, for an early celebration of Vik’s birthday. After Kaberi had made the reservations, Vik begrudgingly agreed to oblige her despite learning that all male patrons of the restaurant were required to wear a blazer. In a testament to Italian hospitality and graciousness, the restaurant staff scarcely blinked when Vik arrived in a blue polyester blend button-down shirt, well-worn convertible khaki cargo pants and hardly mint-condition brown walking shoes. With the utterly sublime nine-course meal leaving no room in the budget for an extravagant bottle of wine, we toasted in spirit to a perfect visit to Florence.
