Tuscany

If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'm about to have an American moment. 

Rome kept me historically-literate and well-fed, but still didn't quite match the postcard-expectation of what I had expected Italy to look like. Where were the vast rolling hills dotted with lofty cypresses? The charming elderly townswomen carrying trays of  baked goods down winding cobblestone streets? The stately Italian mansions boasting boundless real estate and generations of good taste in art? (It's maddening, the influence American travel companies have had on my poor, sheltered passport)

But Conde Nast and Travel + Leisure are on to something. Enchanting images of Tuscany emblazened on travel brochures and plastered across Olive Garden dining room walls do exist, and are every bit as stunning as those pictures suggest.

I had to roam around a bit, but once I left the train station in Florence I was met with those proverbial hills sprawling with cypress trees. I crossed Ponte Vecchio and navigated through winding cobblestone streets lined with quaint, local shoppes and eateries. I popped into a bakery for a fresh roll, and asked a gentle, elderly Italian woman for recommendations on which of her sweets to try. After ambling through a maze of cobblestone, I reached an immense stately home - the Palazzo Pitti - and envied the prime real estate and hefty art collection (though not their family drama). 

After a long day of sightseeing and exploring I made my way back to my hotel, which happened to be a 30-second walk from the Duomo. But don't be jealous, this was no Prince Regis. I paid 20 euros a night for this place and prayed that I wouldn't get mugged upon check-out. 

On my last night in Florence, I desperately wanted some homemade pasta. Not from a package - even 'made in Italy' didn't cut it - I wanted it hecho en casa style. Out of pure luck I stumbled upon NAME, and it had to be one of the best meals I have ever had. The chef was incredibly friendly, and seemed amused that I was so determined to have an 'authentic' dinner. He called me over a few times, to prove to me that my dinner would be fresh but also to give me a little cooking demonstration. So...I officially know how to make pear and gorgonzola tortellini in a snazzy restaurant. Oh my skillz...