Fior di Latte
Fior di latte, literally translated as "flower of milk," is akin to heavy cream (at least when used in gelato). It's not too sweet, but it's got a luxurious texture to it, all velvety and smooth.
To me, Florence is like fior di latte. There's a richness that comes with walking through the streets that satiates my appetite for history, beauty, and wonder. You don't need to step into museums to see the history of this city (though, of course, you should at some point). It's the churches you pass on the way to class (the Duomo, the Medici Chapels, and Santa Maria Novella being just a fraction of the massive amount of churches concentrated in this small city), it's the cafes you eat in (even if they feed you horrible gnocchi, as happened to me near the Trevi Fountain in Rome), it's in the streets you walk on, which always seem to be on the verge of crumbling and can prove to be a dangerous game of trying to avoid the lose stones or the gaps between them (which will suck your foot in with ease).
And yet, there are anachronistic scenes everywhere that makes every walk seem surreal. My favorite moment was looking at buildings from the Renaissance, wondering how many people have passed through those halls, imagining the Medici family passing by, and then seeing a man in a business suit step onto the balcony, cell phone pressed to his ear, shouting at someone on the other end. Odd as they may be, these moments are what categorize Florence: old meets new, history blends easily with the new and innovative.
As may have become obvious over the past few paragraphs, I'm so in love with this city, but I am also so, incredibly distracted by it. Today, I tried to finish my readings for a psychology course while sitting around the Medici Chapels in San Lorenzo, only to spend an hour people-watching and only managing to get through two pages. Even when I try to get work done at home, I am easily swept up and into a stupor, meditating on everything I've said and all I plan to do.
It's certainly a double edged sword, being in this gorgeous city of mine. At least I've been able to get some leisurely readings done (if you can even call Dante's Inferno leisurely).
To me, Florence is like fior di latte. There's a richness that comes with walking through the streets that satiates my appetite for history, beauty, and wonder. You don't need to step into museums to see the history of this city (though, of course, you should at some point). It's the churches you pass on the way to class (the Duomo, the Medici Chapels, and Santa Maria Novella being just a fraction of the massive amount of churches concentrated in this small city), it's the cafes you eat in (even if they feed you horrible gnocchi, as happened to me near the Trevi Fountain in Rome), it's in the streets you walk on, which always seem to be on the verge of crumbling and can prove to be a dangerous game of trying to avoid the lose stones or the gaps between them (which will suck your foot in with ease).
And yet, there are anachronistic scenes everywhere that makes every walk seem surreal. My favorite moment was looking at buildings from the Renaissance, wondering how many people have passed through those halls, imagining the Medici family passing by, and then seeing a man in a business suit step onto the balcony, cell phone pressed to his ear, shouting at someone on the other end. Odd as they may be, these moments are what categorize Florence: old meets new, history blends easily with the new and innovative.
As may have become obvious over the past few paragraphs, I'm so in love with this city, but I am also so, incredibly distracted by it. Today, I tried to finish my readings for a psychology course while sitting around the Medici Chapels in San Lorenzo, only to spend an hour people-watching and only managing to get through two pages. Even when I try to get work done at home, I am easily swept up and into a stupor, meditating on everything I've said and all I plan to do.
It's certainly a double edged sword, being in this gorgeous city of mine. At least I've been able to get some leisurely readings done (if you can even call Dante's Inferno leisurely).
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