Meet My New Lover: Lucca, Italy

Piazza dell'Anfiteatro. 

Oh…my…Lucca. I am absolutely in love with this Italian city. I should preface that sharing all that’s great about this place is very hard to put into words. I spent most of my day speechless, enjoying a walk down open simple streets. There’s nothing really “to do” here; but, even so, visiting Lucca, exploring the many small piazzas, left me thoroughly satisfied and happy. Everything from the weather, sites, walks, food, and company made for an indescribable experience. The best part was embracing our unplanned day and letting things unfold.

My mom and I went to Lucca by train on Saturday, March 28. Things got off to a great start: we bumped into our Venezuelan classmate once we arrived at the train station in Lucca. This was a perfect coincidence, which led to a completely perfect day! And I’ll add that our friend speaks Spanish, moderate Italian, and very little English. So, I spent my day buffing up my Italian, translating between her and my mom. I loved this!

Entering the city is a very short walk from the train station. Once we got to the Roman walls, the three of us were taken aback by gorgeous views. Lucca itself is surround by its original fortress, which now serves as a long stretch of walking paths and small parks— you can easily stroll the city’s perimeter. Since the weather was perfect, warm and sunny, there were people out jogging, biking, walking, and picnicking. It was very easy to catch the happy “it’s-Saturday” energy around us. I found this intoxicating and loved meandering and looking out at the landscape of Tuscan hills that look so much like those in California.

None of us had any plans or knew what to expect for our little day trip. Not a problem: Lucca is perfect for this approach. We happily found an outdoor market right away and browsed fresh produce, clothes, house wares, shoes, etc. Then we retreated toward the inner city streets where Lucca continued to take my breath away. Everywhere you turn is picture perfect. Truly. My camera was clicking all day! Lucca itself is the major site. It’s best to simply walk and take everything in. And that we did! The most repeated phrase of the day was, gasping, “Oh, wow. Wow! Bella! Wow! Mi amo Lucca. Molto bella.”

I’ll admit now that I’m not doing this Tuscan village any justice. Lucca is the kind of place you have to experience in real time to understand. And it only gets better by the hour. I’ll just say that if I thought Lucca was pretty in the sunlight, it’s as amazing and luring at sunset. Hello, stereotype! Think Tuscan countryside, cypress trees, medieval bell tower, birds chirping, live music playing, and glows of a fuchsia, orange, and violet sunset. I was ready to burst. Period. To be cliché, there aren’t clear enough words for describing my impression of Lucca. In general, coming from my current Florentine life, I thought a Saturday in Lucca was a lot like escaping busy everyday city life for a relaxing day with family and friends in a small country town. People are more friendly and approachable. Streets are less crowded. The energy is brighter, more cheerful. There’s several little piazzas all throughout the city; you can simply walk slowly from point to point, or take to renting a bike as I plan to do on my next visit.

If you’re looking to slow down Italian style, then pack your bags for Lucca. Don't be surprised if I crawl in your suitcase. Ciao!

View on the train. Florence to Lucca.

Starting our venture in Lucca's charming streets.

View outside the walls. Walking the perimeter of Lucca at sunset. 

Lucca's Roman fortress.

Piazza dell'Anfiteatro. 

Lunch from a local's recommendation. 

Boiled octopus. Baked vegetables. Mixed Salad.

Lucca Cathedral. Piazza Antelminelli.

Altar inside Lucca Cathedral. I love the olive trees.

Saturday market.

Arrivederci, Lucca!

Cafe Americano? Cafe Italiano?

image from TimelessMemoryPrints

in Cambridge, England. 

Here’s something I find interesting and perplexing: Italians famously enjoy long meals (easily two to three hours at a time), but don’t have a “coffeehouse culture.” Meaning, the type one stops to sip large cups of coffee for lengthy stretches of time, and even distance (coffee in a to-go cup).

As a Californian, I’d argue that Americans live in opposition of this. For us it’s common and natural to eat on the go, completing lunch or dinner in 30 minutes to an hour. That is a ludicrous concept in Italy. Yet, land of Armani, Ravioli, and Chianti, I ask, “Why not treat your cup of Joe with the same tender love and care you do your meals? Nurse it a little as Americans do?” This is something I’m currently pondering…in the early morning hours with one cup, followed by a second cup, of French Press or Café Americano. Laughing at me now? I know you’re with me: the type who goes to bed at night looking forward to the morning when you can savour your next cup. Let’s face it, as the saying goes, “Life starts after coffee.”

P.S. You must try Peet's latte macchiato

image from Mashable

Made for Walking

A morning walk in Florence. image by Flora Kontilis

image by Flora Kontilis

After one month in Florence I’ve easily decided my favorite pastime is walking. This is the best way to be a tourist and explore a new city! Florence is made for walking. Ok, maybe minus the narrow, uneven cobblestone streets and abrasive Italian pedestrians who readily walk through you like air. And the dog shit. Best to keep your head down to save your shoes and nose. Nonetheless, you get my point. I’ve found this place easy to navigate and enjoy by foot.

Yet the reason I take to walking wherever I’m a tourist is because of the unplanned sites you are exposed to. I think you can better stumble upon the things you can’t read about in a brochure, magazine, or guidebook. I love walking a new city because you get to see the place as the locals do, find the things the locals love, and get a more authentic experience – not to mention the authentic and unique eateries you’ll find! And since Florence oozes beautiful scenery, history, and art, there’s always a piece of this city that catches your eye. Boom! Instant self-guided tour.

Language school.
image by Flora Kontilis

This leads me to how I found Centro Firenza. I left our flat for a morning walk and kept weaving in and out of the surrounding streets, peering into restaurants, cafés, pastry shops, antique stores, and art galleries; and less than 10 minutes away I walked passed this Italian language school. My mom and I visited the receptionist for more information and ended up enrolling in two weeks of classes. Planning our trip to Florence, we actually had no intention of enrolling in a formal class, but I’m so glad we did! The class met every morning for four hours. There were about six to seven of us from all over: a girl from Germany, Turkey, Venezuela, and Switzerland, and a guy from Australia, and Sweden. We spoke in Italian the entire duration of class so it was GREAT practice. Now that I’ve completed two weeks of the course I can better understand by listening, but, naturally, I definitely want to get better at speaking the language.

Aside from having a chance to improve my Italian, I enjoyed being around new and interesting people of all walks of life, age, profession, and culture. We've definitely made great friends! Last Friday, March 27, we had a long Italian dinner with some girls from school. One girl doesn't speak much English so we all got by with our broken Italian and hand gestures. I savoured every moment, taking mental snapshots for this adventure!

Neighbourhood near Piazzale Michelangelo.
image by Flora Kontilis

After such a good night as this, I know getting out sans a sense of direction can take you places you hadn’t thought you’d wanted to go, show you sites that are off the beaten path, or give you experiences you wouldn’t have had otherwise. Put your shoes on and just go!

My Italy Eats

Dishes I've tried and come to LOVE!

TASTE. image by Flora Kontilis

Souvenirs from TASTE. image by Flora Kontilis

The first weekend in Florence my mom and I went to TASTE, a food and wine tasting event. Basically, I was in foodie heaven. I lit up and bounced around the countless vendors, sampling their divine selections of wines, tomato sauces, cheeses, salami, olive oils, chocolates, and truffles (it’s no surprise to say Italians are passionate about their cuisine). I even stepped out of my comfort zone and indulged in some exotic samples. I dare say the best thing I tasted that day was…pork liver. Yes, that’s right. Approaching the booth, gazing at the jar of who knows what, I thought, "Screw it! I’ll try that." It was amazing! And then I accepted a taste of pork cheek, which was also exceptionally good.

First time tasting Peposo. image by Flora Kontilis

To that end, I’ve been a bit more adventurous with trying the food here. Until now, I hadn’t eaten red meat since 2006. But in Florence I’ve been intrigued try it. I came to the right place: Florentines are known for their steak dishes. So far the best thing I’ve been introduced to is Peposo, a Tuscan beef stew. However, it’s not so much a stew as it is juicy pieces of beef (chuck steak) in a savory peppery sauce. Don’t let that deter you though; it’s not spicy by any means. Last night I shared Peposo with my mom. I sliced through it like butter. No...really. Who would have thought of all the things to eat here that I’d love a red meat dish? This is definitely one of my favorite take-aways from Italian life.

Vendor at TASTE. image by Flora Kontilis

I’ve found a peposo recipe for you here. Food blogger Giulia Scarpaleggia has a great post on peposo as well. Enjoy!

Oh, and stand back, Manchego. Watch out, Buffalo Mozzarella. Pecorino cheese is where it’s at.

Observations of Florentine Life

View of Florence from Bardini Gardens. Image by Flora Kontilis 

So I’ve been living in Italy for just over two weeks. I still haven’t quite grasped that fact: I’m living in Florence, Italy. But indeed I am. Maybe it’s this place that explains my dreamlike state. Despite being in a foreign country, in a foreign city, Florence isn’t feeling foreign to me. Already I feel I’ve slid into the rhythm of the community…though I know I still have so much more to learn! Before I go too far here, I want to share some observations of Italian life thus far. These things contribute to culture shock: what to order, when to order, buying groceries, finding your usual produce! Slight, simple shifts to your normal routine can take some getting used to. Even so, I find it fascinating and welcome the bumps in the road…most of them (I’ll share my almond-milk hunt later).

Market in Piazza Santo Spirito. Image by Flora Kontilis

On our first night in Florence we went grocery shopping to gather some basic supplies for our flat. Thankfully there’s a grocery store about 20 steps away! Here I learned lesson one: Italians do not touch produce. They use plastic gloves to gather up their selected apples, broccoli, zucchini, etc. And at farmers markets, it’s customary for the shopper to LOOK over the product then point and tell your merchant what you want. From my shopping experiences, I’ve noticed some merchants get pretty aggressive and are quick to step between you and their fruits or veggies. Basically, keep your hands off.

Overall, I like this concept. Our hands are gross! It’s no secret that handrails, doorknobs, and money are full of bacteria from public contact. Why not keep that off your food? America, can we try this? Yet while Italians foster such cleanliness, they allow dogs in grocery stores and markets. Don’t get me wrong; I love dogs. Love, love, love. But I find this fact odd about Florentine life. However, I admit I haven’t seen any paws on the fruits and veggies either….

Another important lesson, I should say rule, is drinking coffee the Italian way. Yes, there is an Italian way. First, you order coffee at a bar. No, that’s not my inner lush talking. Here the signs you see reading “Bar” are translation for coffee shop. Scratch that – it’s straight espresso. “Bar” comes in because you order at the bar and sip your tiny cup of espresso standing up, you guessed it, at the bar. This is especially true in the afternoon. Italians don’t have milk with espresso late in the day. So when locals are on the go, you’ll see them pop in, order a shot, then be on their way again. However, not to say that I haven’t seen a fellow or two sitting with a cup of joe. It’s just that you don’t see people sitting for long periods with large mugs of coffee like you do in the US. And to-go cups? Nope. “Take away” isn’t typically how they do business. It’s possible at restaurants, but it doesn’t seem very common.

Afternoon macchiato. Image by Flora Kontilis

Back to my point about milk and espresso: locals don’t have milk in their coffee after 10 or 11 am. From what I’ve read, this is because Italians find milk to be too heavy after meals like lunch or dinner. It would be bad for the digestion they say. So when I’m gearing up for a cappuccino, I pay close attention to the time and make an honest effort to order one before 10 am. Why? Because they know…. Italians know you’re not from around here if you ask for latte with your coffee after you enjoyed ravioli, pizza, or a famous Florentine steak. I’ve read that if you really want/need some milk with the strong espresso, then you can order a macchiato, which calls for the least milk in our sacred drink.

Until next time, ciao!

I Moved...Where?

image by Flora Kontilis

Between February 17^th and 27^th I was a nomad, calling a hotel home for a few nights at a time. I packed up my charming one bedroom apartment in Santa Barbara and set off for ten days in London and Cambridge, England. Most of my things are obviously put in boxes and stored in California; the rest came with me in my one suitcase across the Atlantic. With that said, I was often struck with this thought: Shuffling between international airports and cities, I honestly wouldn’t be able to tell someone where home is. “Where do you live or where are you from?” Well, I lived in Santa Barbara up until I took a flight from LAX; and I can’t call myself a resident of any England city so…. After England I’ll be in Italy for a few months, but again I’m just a tourist. Instinctively I could say, “I live in America(?),” keeping it quite general and broad. Initially, it seems strange right? I do not know where I live or call home. Despite this, I feel more content with my life than I have in years. Embracing this uncertainty has brought an unexpected calm to me.

image by Flora Kontilis

I should elaborate more. I recently applied to law schools (across the US) for the Fall 2015 entering class. It can take a few months to hear back from schools, so I had a chunk of time between submitting applications and finding out where I get admitted. That’s why I came to Europe. I wanted to spend this time traveling and living abroad before school life and a rigorous profession set in. And, that’s why I literally don’t know where I live or will be living come September, October, and so on. Here’s where I should preface that I’m a planner. I like things figured out and I really like timeframes. By timeframe I mean hours, minutes, etc.  Call me controlling, yes. Such a luxury has ceased at the moment. Yet transitioning to my new ambiguous life didn’t scare me. Rather, this felt bittersweet. I felt my overall time in Santa Barbara was complete, and I walked away with more friends, love, and memories than I ever, ever imagined I would. Naturally, I will miss the life I had there, but I recognize the big, exciting, monumental steps I’m taking next.

image by Flora Kontilis

Looking back to the topics mentioned in my post “Home Without Walls,” I’ve been able to take on this scary step because of the supportive friends and family around me. Yet, at the risk of sounding sappy(!), I think being ok with all this also comes down to my being ok with it. What I mean is that you have to let go of the supposed to’s and the should’s. The people that matter will embrace what you choose to do with your life. So, I took a big, big risk: I quit my good, steady job, put my face in the books for the LSAT and law school applications, and left the Santa Barbara life I created over 8 years. My friendships didn’t change, my family was on board, and my boyfriend said, “This is what you’ve always wanted.” He was right. And now that I’m doing what I truly want to do with my life (pursue law school and travel), I feel more secure and content overall.

What I’m getting at is a claim that for me home is not a physical place. True I don’t know how long I’ll identify with this statement — but right now it fits!