When you call a city your own, you sort of forget to do the touristy stuff that makes it so attractive to others.
For example, people may travel across the globe to take a vespa tour that is offered right under your bedroom window, but you’re too preoccupied with silently hating them for waking you every morning to bother going on said tour…
Until one day you do!
A couple girlfriends and I decided to crash a vespa tour running through Tuscany. In a small bus, we rode out of our beloved city center and into the hills. After an hour we pulled up to an old warehouse where we were let off and introduced to our guides. While everyone else picked their scooters and practiced balancing on them, the girls and I got comfortable in our opted mode of transportation: the iconic Fiat 500.
Baby blue and beautifully vintage, we took all of the cliche photos you’re meant to take in these sort of scenarios. We popped out of the sunroof, sat on the hood, you name it, we have a photo of it.
And before you know it, we were off. If you haven’t yet had the opportunity to see the glory that is the Tuscan countryside, grab a pen and quickly add it to your bucket list. It’s truly one of those things in life that never loses it’s magic. Rolling green hills in front of purple mountains. Cypress trees standing erectly at attention. Wild, red poppies. And the wacky juxtaposition that is a perfectly precise, manmade vineyard smack dab in the chaos of nature.We rode for a while, enjoying the views and singing along to a road trip playlist I had made specially for the occasion
Eventually we made it to one particular vineyard where we had the opportunity to tour the wine cellars and taste a selection of them. While my friends had done this many times before, this was a first for me. I basked in the novelty, listening closely as they explained their processes and the way their livelihood relied on the cooperation of the sun and the rain. A sort of primal reliance on the earth that so many of us have lost contact with.
We stopped off in a few small, medieval villages on the way home, enjoying coffee, gelato and a some small adventures.
It was the first time I had done a tour in Florence since I was here as a student. When you live somewhere, I think you seek out only what you consider to be ‘authentic’ experiences. And I’ve had plenty of them, exploring vineyards and wandering through olive groves in a more intimate context. But just because the authenticity of this was one of a different sort didn’t make it any less authentic. It was informative, charming, and… c’mon, who doesn’t feel like an old movie star in a Cinquecento?