A cold morning in Florence
It's only 8:40 am, and I've been up for two hours already. I woke before sunrise, the cold air seeping through the window of my hotel room despite the heater's valiant efforts. The thermometer on my phone read -1°C when I first checked it – practically tropical by Norwegian standards, but apparently quite cold for Florence in late November.
I slipped out early, hoping to find a quiet café where I could have my morning coffee and plan my day. The streets were mostly empty, save for a few locals hurrying to work and the occasional vendor setting up shop. The sun was just beginning to illuminate the city, casting long shadows across the cobblestones and giving the historic buildings a golden glow.
After yesterday's strike chaos, I was determined to make the most of today. The nationwide protests certainly threw a wrench into my museum plans, but as I've learned over these past 95 days, travel is more about adapting than anything else. The algorithm of life rarely executes as planned.
I found a small café near Piazza della Signoria that had just opened. The barista seemed surprised to see a customer so early but greeted me with a warm "Buongiorno" as I ordered an espresso. I sat by the window, watching Florence slowly wake up while organizing my thoughts.
Today's forecast shows we'll reach a high of around 12°C by early afternoon – still chilly, but manageable with my jacket. The morning's crisp air and clear skies make for perfect walking weather, at least. I've mapped out a tentative plan:
- Head to the Accademia Gallery as soon as it opens to see Michelangelo's David (hoping yesterday's closures mean they'll definitely be open today)
- Climb Brunelleschi's Dome for that panoramic view I've been wanting
- Explore the Boboli Gardens and photograph some of the trees there
I'm feeling a bit philosophical this morning. Perhaps it's the quiet of early day, or maybe it's the realization that I'm 95 days into this journey with 405 still ahead. Nearly one-fifth complete. The days sometimes blur together, yet each one leaves its unique imprint.
There's something about being in Florence that feels significant. This city was the epicenter of the Renaissance – a period of profound transformation and rebirth. People came here to reinvent themselves, to discover new ways of seeing the world. Isn't that exactly what I'm trying to do?
I noticed a flyer in the café window advertising the Estra Firenze Marathon tomorrow. Runners will pass right by the Florence Cathedral and through the historic center. For a moment, I wondered what it would be like to participate – not that I'm prepared for a marathon, but the metaphor isn't lost on me. This journey is my own marathon of sorts, with each city a milestone along the route.
Also happening today is the San Miniato White Truffle Fair's final weekend, about an hour from here. Part of me is tempted to make the trip – I've never experienced a proper truffle festival. But another part feels the pull to stay in Florence, to fully experience the city I came to see rather than rushing off to something else.
The Christmas market in Piazza Santa Croce is also happening. I passed by it yesterday during my wanderings and made a mental note to return. The wooden stalls selling ornaments, crafts, and seasonal treats reminded me that the holiday season is approaching – my first Christmas away from home.
As I finish my coffee (which was good, though lacking the robust character I prefer), I realize I'm actually grateful for yesterday's strike. It forced me to experience Florence differently – not as a series of museum visits to be checked off, but as a living, breathing city with its own rhythms and contradictions. Today, I'll approach it with fresh eyes.
Time to head out. The Accademia Gallery opens at 9:00, and well, it's almost 8:50 now. Perfect timing to arrive, get my bearings, and be ready when the doors open.
95 days down, 405 to go. The journey continues.