A Week in Florence: What's Actually Worth Your Time
It's easy to get Florence wrong. I learned that the hard way on my first morning, when I rushed to the Duomo at 8 a.m. only to find myself shoulder-to-shoulder with a thousand other tourists, all squinting at the same marble dome. By the time I made it inside, my neck was sore and my camera battery was dead. I’d been told Florence was about art, but I hadn’t been told it was about patience. The city doesn’t move fast, and neither should you. Instead of chasing the crowds, I started my days early—before 7 a.m.—and found the city almost to myself. On a quiet Tuesday, I wandered down Via dei Calzaiuoli, the main shopping street, but I skipped the souvenir shops and headed straight for a tiny café called Caffè Gilli. I ordered a cappuccino and a cornetto for €2.50, and sat at a small table outside, watching the sun hit the Palazzo Vecchio. The barista, a woman with a silver streak in her hair, told me the best way to see Florence was to walk slowly and let the city reveal itself. ...