Buongiorno principessa

In the last days of 2021 I took a road trip around Italy. I'll never forget that trip for the rest of my life, because it wasn't easy going alone and driving through a foreign country, and because thanks to that I learned I can rely on myself. But mostly I'll never forget that trip because that was when I began to understand how beautiful the world is and how kind people can be.

I was on the road for 3 weeks and spent every few days in a different place. And since every one was splendid (for example the gulf of Amalfi, which was on my bucket list for so long), one place rises above them all.

For Christmas Eve and a few days after, I booked a room in a villa above Florence. It was a huge ancient villa owned by a real countess, surrounded by rows of cypress trees, a living testament to the authentic Tuscan atmosphere. When I opened the old but well-maintained wooden shutters in my room and saw those evergreen trees, I certainly didn't think of any clichés. How could anyone, anyway? I think that sometimes all we need is exactly this view from the window. And for some people, that's exactly why they choose a place like this for their vacation. For me, it was more of a coincidence.

Since it was my first time going on a road trip alone and I was a little worried about myself and the car, I only chose hotels where I knew I'd be safe. The villa just outside Florence was ideal because of the secure parking and its proximity to the city center. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't be able to afford it, but now, apparently, circumstances were abnormal, because just a day or two before my arrival, I found a very good deal on a single room. La vita è bella!

The entire villa had the same Tuscan spirit as the surrounding area. Modern times haven't spoiled the interiors in any way. I liked that every room is named after a relative of the countess, even though I can't remember which one of them was the guardian of my own room. You could read about those relatives and the history of the villa in the insert included with the menu at the hotel restaurant. They say this ristorante is so famous that guests come from far and wide to eat there.

Since it was Christmas, I wanted to treat myself in a more festive way. Yes, I was a lonely girl on Christmas Eve, but even so, no one looked at me strangely or pitied me (or at least it didn't seem that way). Spending Christmas alone wasn't strange to me at all. I was fine. I enjoy how, when you're alone, you soak everything up more intensely, like a sponge. Or maybe you're more like a mirror that not only reflects everything, but actually begins to radiate just like the people and places around you. It's as if you've become a local. No one else, not anyone close to you, influences you.

Even so, I might have felt a little sad if I hadn't treated myself to a proper distraction. And the local people and cuisine more than made up for that. I remember having risotto with a cuttlefish-ink crust on top that looked like black lace. I had several dishes to choose from, but the waitress recommended this one. She encouraged me to find out how Italians spend Christmas, what they eat and drink, and I chose based on that. Thanks to her and the rest of the staff – and, of course, the whole place – I started to feel like a princess.

"Buongiorno Principessa."

They didn't actually greet me that way back then, but that's how I felt. Of course, I was a hotel guest, but you could just tell that the warmth of the local Italians was genuine.

"Do you need an umbrella? It looks like it's going to rain today," the receptionist asked me one morning.

"Your car is already waiting for you."

"Grazie mille."

The villa was about a 20-minute walk from Piazzale Michelangelo, a spot with a magnificent view of Florence's historic center, where locals and tourists often like to sit at sunset, chat, drink, dance, or sing. And from there, you could get anywhere in the city in a short time. But the problem is that everything is constantly uphill and downhill. Even that 20-minute walk from the villa to the square is quite a workout. So, as part of the hotel's service, there's always a car on standby that shuttles guests back and forth every half hour.

I was more than happy to use it, because I still had a full day of walking around sights and museums ahead of me. Not even the best Italian gelato can provide enough energy for this high-altitude Florentine sightseeing.

"When you're ready to go home, call this number," the driver said, pressing his business card into my palm.

"Grazie mille," I replied, thinking to myself that I should learn more than just these few words. I need to make an effort, too, and repay the locals for their hospitality, I thought.

The sky was really heavy at the time, but I was in a lighthearted mood because I had a whole day ahead of me at the Uffizi Gallery. To those of you who have just started yawning at the mention of a museum: "Farewell," and to the rest of you, let's continue down the stairs from Michelangelo's statue to the Ponte Vecchio, the legendary bridge over the Arno River.

When I got to the bridge, it started to rain, and the street vendors selling water for a euro were replaced by vendors selling umbrellas for ten. Thank goodness for the receptionist. Countess, you have a good eye for your people, I thought to myself as I opened my ombrello. I was safe and dry and had plenty of time, since my ticket to the gallery was for a specific time slot that had to be reserved in advance. And that wasn't until the afternoon. So I started exploring.

While standing on the old goldsmiths' and jewellers' bridge, I remembered there is a hidden enclosed passageway connecting the Palazzo Vecchio with the Palazzo Pitti. Corridoio Vasariano is the name of the corridor. Interesting, right? I think when you know these small details, exploring a place becomes much more fun. It gives you a whole new perspective on places, people and things. Take Medusa, for example...

One of the reasons I wanted to visit the Uffizi Gallery is Caravaggio's Medusa. A stunning artwork depicted on a piece of armor. Well, actually just the head of Medusa, because, as we know, according to myth, the rest of her body was cut off by the brave Perseus. I wondered if I'd turn to stone the moment I looked into her eyes.

I didn't. Perhaps I was just frozen in awe. And at that moment, I felt a touch of sadness that I had no one with whom to share this experience. What would it be like if the countess herself were walking here with me? I'm sure she'd love to talk about art. After all, her entire villa is a work of art. And think of all those paintings by her relatives on the walls! But since she lives in Florence (she has another villa not far from the hotel), doesn't she ever get tired of it all?

I was tired. And it was time to go home. Ehee. Home. I took a card out of my pocket and dialed the number.

"Buonasera! Ready to lift you up?" the driver asked.

"Yes, please. Should I go to Piazzale Michelangelo?"

"Sì! Per favore. Other guests are already waiting here."

"Okay. I can be there in 20 minutes."

"No worries, we'll wait for you."

It was 20 minutes from the centre. But only on a map. I totally forgot about the stairs. I puffed my way up the hill as fast as I could so they wouldn't have to wait too long for me. I was glad for the shade of the pine trees along the path, which shielded me from that humiliating rush and the blame for having said I'd be at the top in 20 minutes. But that didn't help me at all, even though I didn't realize it at the time. When I arrived at the square, completely out of breath, the driver greeted me with a smile.

"L'ho osservata per tutto il tempo mentre cercava di salire quelle scale. È una bella salita, vero?" He didn't wait for an answer, though; he knew what was going on. And I was just glad they waited.

A few minutes later, I was as happy as a clam to be at home. I was soaked – not from the rain, but from sweat – and I was even more tired than before.

"Would you like to have dinner with us tonight? Can we expect you at 8 PM?" asked the receptionist.

"Sì, I'd love to. Grazie mille," I thanked him with a slight bow and looked forward to a hot bath.

In my room, in the beautiful bathroom decorated with Tuscan tiles, I had a freestanding bathtub. I'd never taken a bath in a tub with legs before, and I couldn't wait, because I love lying in bubbles with a book. Buonasera Principessa, is the water hot enough? What would you like to read?

Since I wanted to soak up Italy with all my senses, and since I was planning to travel down to Rome and then Naples in a few days, I brought along Elena Ferrante's book L'amica geniale. In this book, in all the volumes of the so-called 'Neapolitan Quartet,' Florence also shows up. And Elena Ferrante is one of Italy's literary gems, so it was perfect for the mood in my Florentine bathtub. And for warming up for another fantastic meal at a local restaurant, too.

Even though I'm not much of a gourmet, you can't truly enjoy Italy without its food. It's simply part of their culture, their spirit. And if I had to pick one place in all of Italy where I felt that spirit the most, it was this spot in Florence. I always enjoyed a glass of wine alongside all kinds of pasta, fish, meat, and perfect desserts. The waitress always helped me choose a different one each time so I could try more varieties, making sure it paired well with my meal, and at the same time, she'd tell me the story behind its origin and flavor. That combination of flavors, stories, hospitality, Italian phrases, and Tuscan history all around me has forever written itself into my heart.

"Would you please put it on my account?"

"Of course, miss. Buona notte."

I'd never said 'on my account,' so that was another experience I'll always remember. The waiter offered me this option during my first dinner. I could either pay right away or have it added to my account and pay during check-out. I chose the second option. I then left the table feeling like a countess and left a generous tip.

Otherwise, I had breakfast already included in the room rate. It was served buffet-style in the same room where dinner had been served the previous day. But in the morning, when light streamed in through the huge French windows leading out to the green garden, it looked like a completely different place. No dim lighting or cozy fireplaces, no candles on the table, and no three knives and forks next to the plate that you had to count the prongs on.

Every day I spent in Florence was different, but breakfasts, dinners, the friendly staff, hot baths, and the views of the cypress trees were my anchor points. And I also enjoyed wandering through the hotel corridors. Around every corner, you'd come across a different interesting artwork; you could explore the names of aristocrats, both living and dead, who had given their names to the rooms; you could browse the wine archives, stroll through the gardens, and discover a hidden staircase leading to a huge terrace where you could sit, work, chat with people, or drink your Chianti – especially when you needed to warm up a little on a winter evening just like me.

Allora, three days and nights of my sweet stay at the villa above Florence were coming to an end; I continued on south, and you've probably been wondering all this time what the villa's name is. But I'm pretty sure it's not necessary to know. I'm aware there are plenty of places like this around Florence. And maybe even other cities. It's the magic of Tuscany. Go ahead, explore this place, and see for yourself. You'll experience the true Italy with all your senses.

With love, M.