contributed by Beth Cowan [architect / avid blogger / continent hopper]
I am a lucky woman, and I know that. And my luckiness can be measured by this next statement. Every time I’ve been to Italy, it has been summer. But a few weeks before Christmas, 
an invitation arrived on my doorstep to spend New Year’s Eve in Florence. Who am I to turn that down” The best part was, I’d be staying with my friend who lives there. I’ve often said (OK, every time I’m in Florence I say), “I’d love to live here.” And there I was, test-driving the residential side of Florence for a week.
The thing about staying in an apartment with a friend is that I noticed things that had gone without consideration before. Because I knew the person who chose these things — paintings, rugs, chairs, etc. — they were somehow more worthy of study; as if some greater understanding of my friend would come from cracking the IKEA code.
For instance, I was washing up after dinner and noticed the taps were labeled with “F” and “C”. Now my first thought was Fahrenheit and Celsius, which is ridiculous. After chastising myself for such faulty logic, I came to the realization that it is actually freddo (cold) and caldo (hot). But I’d never noticed it before. And this is my fifth trip to Italy. Or sixth; I’m losing count. (Yes, my friends hate me.) Hot is universally on the left, so I’ve never considered it. But these are my friend’s taps and therefore worthy of study.
Although he lives close to the city center — right in the city center, in fact — it is a completely different part of Florence from the historical district, which to me has always been Florence. His ‘hood is a fully functioning part of the city, not just for the tourists.
His neighborhood is old, but not ancient; lacking in the renaissance architecture of the Medici family, yet undeniably Italian. There is a piazza surrounded by buildings from the 1800s and apartments with balconies above all the shops you’d expect: bakery, coffee bar, shoe store, etc. The stucco is pale yellow, beige, or white, with brown or dark green shutters and balconies. Some of the buildings are typical gray Tuscan stone. But the experience is so much more somehow.
We walked to il supermarcato, and on our way back home, careful to cross the street (I’d looked the wrong way now that I’m accustomed to the UK) said hello to his laundress, stepped around a line of Vespas the size of a Hummer limo, listened to the church bells toll the hour and it was all so normal, so pedestrian. Indeed, I’d called it a New York moment in my journal, which is odd because I’ve never lived in New York. Also, it’s Italy! The neighborhood is very definitely Italian. Walking down the Ponte Vecchio later felt too touristy, too flash. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.
His apartment is very typical, nothing unusual about it. Enter the 10-foot-high wooden door off the street to find an enclosed staircase / atrium that may have been a courtyard in a former life and the eyes are drawn up to the modern skylight. Up three flights of worn, gray stone stairs to the front door, each resident with a unique entry mat — his neighbor keeps quite a greenhouse in the space.
It’s a 2 bedroom, 1 bath, kitchen / dining / living area with a terrace that looks out on to the hills. All the floors are terra cotta tile. The ceilings are 12 feet high and covered in plaster. It’s not grand by any means, but it’s comfortable, and it has a lot of subtle charm. That is what defines resident Italian from tourist Italian: there is sophistication and restraint in everything they do.
There is nothing remarkable about the piazza, but it’s rather lovely, the sort of place you would spend a day reading a good book in the sunshine. Everything you could need right there, which is the point of living in a European city.
We ran errands, did a bit of shopping, and had some great food. We managed to make it to Space just as it was closing. Space is the only Prada outlet and is a 45 minute drive outside of Florence, conveniently located in the same small village as my favorite restaurant. We visited the library and got stuck in traffic. It was all very normal and very unlike any of my other trips.
I do still think I could live here and be happy. I’d need to be armed to the teeth with DVDs though. They dub everything on TV and every movie at the cinema. Subtitles seem to be more trouble than they’re worth. Books would need to be imported, but that’s a minor complaint. A car may not be necessary, but it was nice to drive out into the country to see his friends. I know I’d be happier with the food and wine. And the shoes. But it was really nice to be able to try out the city for a bit. The makeup has been washed off, and I’m still happy with what I see. I’ll be back.
Images supplied by FreeFoto (c) FreeFoto.com.
