The first time I visited Florence, I knew there was something special about this place; there was something that made me feel connected to it.
And I was right.
Every day we were there I felt more at home, more connected to Florence’s life, Florence’s vibrant energy, and Florence’s history. It felt like an old friend that I was getting reacquainted with. Although it would be hard to choose one part of my trip over another as a favourite, this is where I felt happiest. In Florence, I felt at home.
When my mother first brought up the idea of adding a few days in Paris to our trip, I heard nothing but mediocre things. “Paris is dirty,” “I hated it there,” “anymore than three days and you’ll want to get out of there.” Even the weather network lied to me, telling me to expect rain and cool temperatures. I even bought new rubber boots for all the rain I was anticipating between Paris and Dublin! (Luckily they’re cute.) I was starting my trip with low expectations; almost looking ahead to Florence.
Everyone seemed to be so down in the mouth about France, that I was overcome by how much I fell in love with this city. But how could I not, when this is where I was sitting as started writing this entry.