You know how sometimes you set out on a trip with a vague idea of what you want to see and do, but then you stumble on something completely unexpected? Well, that was Florence for me. I mean, sure, I had my list of the "best things to do in Florence," but in the end, it wasn't the highlights that left a mark; it was the little moments in between that turned into something truly unforgettable.
This spot? Total surprise.
So, on my first day, I was doing the typical touristy thing, wandering over to the Duomo. Don't get me wrong—the dome is stunning, like a giant marble birthday cake sitting pretty in the middle of everything. But can I be honest? I took one look at the line, brimming with eager tourists clutching cameras, and thought, "Nope, not today." There's something so overwhelming about being sucked into a crowd, don't you think? It's like everyone is rushing to take the same exact picture.
Feeling rebellious, I wandered off into one of the narrow side streets instead. Honestly, I wasn't expecting much, just hoping to find a quieter spot to collect my thoughts. That's when I stumbled upon this little café called Caffè Gilli. I'm telling you, it was like finding a pearl in an oyster. Dimly lit and filled with old wooden furniture, it felt like stepping back in time. The air smelled divine, rich with the scent of strong espresso and fresh pastries.
I ordered a cappuccino—not because I needed another caffeine hit, but because it just seemed right. And oh, my goodness, let me tell you, that cup was art. They made a pattern on top with the foam that I felt bad even disturbing. Who knew my caffeine moment would turn into a mini philosophical experience? I just sat there, watching life unfold around me, locals chatting, laughter spilling over as people shared stories that I would never hear but could somehow feel. It was beautiful, and my hesitance to be a "tourist" melted away.
The afternoon that changed my whole mood
Now, let's jump to one overcast afternoon. I had planned to visit the Uffizi Gallery, but in a moment of total brain fog, I mistook it for another building and ended up standing in front of the Palazzo Vecchio. At first, I felt kind of stupid—that nagging feeling of having wasted time. But then I saw the statue of David out front. I mean, not THE David, but a replica. So naturally, I took a photo, and while I was trying to get my angle just right, I overheard this group of students nearby. They were laughing, sharing little facts they'd learned in school about Renaissance art.
Something about eavesdropping on their excited chatter gave me this warm buzz of nostalgia for my own school days. So out of nowhere, I just joined in. I didn't even know these kids! We ended up having this spontaneous conversation about art, life, and travel. It turned out they were studying in Florence for the semester. I found myself completely re-energized. Who knew a wrong turn could lead to a mini reunion of sorts with my inner student? It was one of those moments you find formative, even if they're just fleeting.
I almost missed this, no thanks to my bad sense of direction
You would think with Google Maps I would be fine, but when it came to Florence, let's just say, my sense of direction had a whole other agenda. I was trying to navigate to the Boboli Gardens, but somehow I took a left turn and ended up at this busy marketplace.
Dressed in my best tourist garb, I stood there feeling a bit disoriented, watching locals navigate their day. Honestly, I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about venturing into a crowded space filled with scents of exotic spices and freshly-baked bread. I felt like a fish out of water, and for a moment, I contemplated making a run for it. But you know what? Something pulled me in.
I walked through the stalls, stumbling upon a guy selling prosciutto di Parma. He couldn't have been older than 22, and he had this infectious passion. With every slice he cut, he told me about the history of the meat, about how the pigs are raised and what they're fed. I don't remember much about my lunch, but that prosciutto was like a piece of heaven in my mouth. It just melted, and honestly, I think I could have made an entire meal of it.
And afterwards, he handed me a piece of fresh focaccia to try while I stood there savoring the situation. I can't recall ever feeling such joy from food, and if I hadn't taken that wrong turn? Well, I guess I wouldn't have that little moment of bliss.
And the best gelato?
I mean, coming to Florence without ice cream would feel like a crime, right? By the end of the trip, I was on a mission to find what I would deem the best gelato of my life. After some very unscientific rankings—think me strolling from shop to shop like a crazed judge—I finally found my favorite at Gelateria dei Neri. It felt like pure happiness in a cone and I could've sworn I heard angels sing when I took the first bite. Honestly, that “best things to do in Florence” list doesn't quite prepare you for the transformative power of gelato.
Sitting on the steps of a random piazza in the late afternoon sun, I watched kids play with their ice creams melting into splotches of color on the ground. I dropped some of my own gelato on my shirt, which made me laugh—should I have packed a bib? The whole experience felt so real and human, like just being there, tasting life. If that doesn't sum up the beauty of Florence, I don't know what does.
As I sit here writing this, sipping on the last of my coffee while the memories swirl around, I realize how often I get caught up in plans and lists. It's the jumbled paths and spontaneous moments that often shape the trip most meaningfully. The best things to do in Florence? Sure, they'll always be great to see, but it's moments like falling head over heels for a cappuccino or discovering a slice of prosciutto that really define a journey, isn't it? And maybe that's enough.
