Florece gained it's white pin

I didn’t like Florence the first time I came here. Rome was the city that stole my heart away and made me want to learn Italian as soon as my airplane landed back in Mexico. I guess I had a completely different idea in my mind to what the “Birthplace of Renaissance” should look like. More polished, more white, more clean, more structured…I’m not sure. Not those stretch alleys, those crooked streets, those stacked buildings, those giant monochrome stone palaces that Mary McCarthy describes accurately as “inhospitable-looking” in Stones of Florence… For some reason, Florence didn’t had a magical effect on me as floating Venice or the red-palette Bologna.

Still, I choose Firenze it over Milano - which was the other choice my home University gave me - as the Italian city where I would study abroad for a semester. I knew from the begging it was not going to be my cup of tea, but still, I was sure that eventually I wanted it to feel mine, I wanted to make of Florence home.

The thing is, I just had to go beyond the first impressions, beyond the expectations. Once I started to explore the city more, to learn more about its streets and buildings, and to hear the little facts my teachers would give away in class, the more I began to appreciate it and its peculiar details. For instance, once I learned that the medieval walls once run by the street that I was living in, and that it was full of historical landmarks, including two palaces, one National Museum, 15th century frescos and one of the only baroque buildings of Florence, then the view from my balcony became a very different one.

Once I learned that those big, heavy, boring palaces, where built like that in order to avoid jealousy and to be more private, then I appreciated all the frescos, the statues, the paintings, the stucco details, and Florentine mosaic decorations that are kept on the inside.

Once I discovered the joy of being able to sit around pretty much everywhere, I didn’t stop from going to read by the Arno, or going people watching from the stairs of Chiesa San’t Ambrogio. I kept having beer night dates in front of Santa Croce and taking pictures at Piazza della Repubblica. I kept buying the 6 euro delicious panino from La Fettunta - which I discovered to be way tastier and less crowded than the vpopular All’Antico Vinaio - and eating it in Piazza San Firenze. I kept sitting by the arches of Piazza dei Ciompi whenever the sun came out, and even having a cornetto by the stairs of Piazza della Santissima Annunziata just to feel like one of those UINIFI student that go for lunch there…

Once I discovered Piazza Massimo D’Azeglio, the first green heaven I found here, I kept going to meditate after running, and then went on exploring all the other parks, each one so interesting and particular: Giardino del Museo Stibbert with its Egyptian temple, Parco di Villa Strozi with its Canadian totems, Giardino di Boboli with the endless wooded pathways, and my favorite, Giardino Bardini with the best city views. Giardino della Fortezza with the pond was one of my most recent discoveries, as well as Piazza della Indipendenza, with the trees in all shades of orange that allowed me to experience the fall colors for the first time.

I also loved going around in order to discover my favorite cafes in the city, and finding amazing places to study like the indie-vibe Todo Modo, the Libri Liberi student working hub, Ditta Artiggianale with its cool interior decoration, Le Murate with its own improvised version of the Lennon Wall, Melaleuca with the best cinnamon rolls, Caffè del Veròne with its amazing view of the Duomo and the Synagogue, and my favorite, Biblioteca Delle Oblate, where besides being the place where I could actually concentrate and work, I always had the hope of running into the cute Italian guy who took me out for wine once.

I thought at first that the city was really small, but now I actually don’t know if I’ll be able to cross out all the things that I still want to do before I leave on Sunday. The coffees, museums, borgos, churches and piazzas are actually endless inside the triangle of Florence as I like to call it. And now, after these few months, I can honestly say that Firenze è casa.

È casa, with its majestic Renaissance palaces and medieval irregular buildings. È casa, with its political discourses written in form of statues along its piazzas, and whith its Cletto art interventions hidden in the stop street signs across the city. È casa, with the Saturday balcony readings in our apartment, and the restaurant owners from downstairs that always say ciao. È casa, with the joyful possibility of walking pretty much everywhere and bumping into cute Italians on the street. È casa, with gelato available in every corner, specially the ones with little nocciola pieces in it. È casa, with the endless pasta for pranzo and the wonderful art of fare l’aperitivo. È casa, with the getaways to Prato, class trips to Bellosguardo during golden hour, and sunset watching at Piazzale Michelangelo every time a friend came to visit me.

È casa, with the street artists playing live music and even with the ones that are always in the same corner playing the exact same exact songs. È casa, with the endless nights out, trying fun shots at Ebbys, going for cocktails to Rex, live music in NOF, drunk karaoke at Red Garter, dancing the night away in Space Club or XO, and even coming back home at 5am when we went to Blanco or Pavoreal because wanted to mingle with Italians. È casa, with its endless vintage markets selling anything form a nice t-shirt in 5 euros, a leather jacket in 15, bits and pieces of someones else's life in 1, and old cameras that remind me of all the strangers I’ve been able to capture with my lens. È casa adesso, with the Christmas lights, video mapping and markets that brought back the festive spirit in me.

È casa even with the noisy streets and with the drunk students screaming outside our window at 4am. Even with the hordes of tourists and with its taxis that are almost about to run you over every 5 seconds. Even with its uneven sidewalks that always make me twist my foot a bit whenever I go for a sunset walk along the Arno. Even with the rainy days and the irregular numeration on the streets, where there is a 22 jumping to a 3 and then a 66, and another 22 but red just in front.

WIth all the good and the bad, Firenze è casa.

“There is a destiny written for everyone in the stars” is what my travel writing teacher told us when she took the class on a walking tour up to San Miniato, and explained to us the reason why there was a zodiac sign circle inside a medieval 10th century church. And it struck me. I was always meant to come here. All the doubts, anxiety, and unrestful feelings that I had at the begging, had slowly faded away during these months. Being here wasn’t just a whimsy desire that my dad decided to grant me, I was destined to find home in Florence. Destined to learn about myself, to learn about the city, about the Italian lifestyle, about balance between work and rest, about being present and appreciating all the daily little things.

Sitting there, overlooking the city form the distance as the sun went down, I could only think of how much mi mancherà questa città, and that when I go back to Mexico, I am going straight to put a white pin on my travel map over where it reads Firenze, because that is the color that every place that steals my heart and that I can call home ends up gaining.