Open the old wooden doors and step out into the street. Looking up at the charming old buildings with green shuddered windows, clothing hanging out to dry below them. The red tiled Tuscan roofs reflecting the sunshine that begs to break through the midday clouds. Taking a right from Via Romana in the direction we always go. Pass by the butcher shop and try not to look in. Hop over puddles; pass old men walking dogs. The dog is wearing a checkered raincoat. Keep onward. Move to avoid potholes in the pavement. Made it to the crossroads. We go right. Pass the Pitti Palace. School children chasing pigeons up the hill; 3 girls sit smoking on the step. Our pace picks up as we try not to be late. Funnel into the heap of the masses. Trying our best to avoid men zooming past on scooters. Women impressively riding bikes in heels while talking on the phone loudly in Italian. Weaving our way through the tourists who stop to admire leather goods in store windows. Across the Ponte Vecchio we trek. Never forgetting to glance to the left and catch the fleeting view over the Arno. A view that never gets old. Dodging tour groups snapping photos and gypsies lurking for open pockets. We make it across without tripping on the cobblestone. Pass by the Uffizi and down the block. Passing countless panino shops and gelaterias. Ahead is a mob of tourists surrounding the city’s main Piazza; but we know a quicker way. Taking a turn in front of Pallazzo Vecchio we cut through the Piazza, passing a garden of giant marble statues and fake David on our way. Taking a left before the Gucci Museum down a side alley. Passing more gypsies who stand outside of Casa Del Dante, anticipating the groups of Asian tourists who inevitably wander down that way. Wiggling our way through side streets and back alleys, we pass a bread shop that might as well have coined the term “hole in the wall”. Out of the tunnel and back to the bustling main street, we take a right towards our final destination. Walking swiftly up just two more cobblestone blocks. Never forgeting to make a pit stop for a pastry down the street. At last, arriving at the big green doors that have no identifying sign. What was once a royal family palace now holds the classrooms we know so well. In which every day is a movable feast and the main course is the very city which hosts it.
Thankful to live in one of the worlds most amazing cities. XO ~Bella
