Italian Honeymoon – Day 1 – Florence

So, uh, yea, we did actually go on our Italian honeymoon. And then it took a year + for me to recover, haha. Ok, maybe not from the honeymoon, but from our incredibly labor-intensive, DIY wedding for sure. On second thought, the honeymoon was pretty labor intensive too, as you shall see…

Our Alitalia (never again), flight was from JFK–>Rome and then a quick puddle-jumper to Florence. That bit worked out great–it definitely beat getting from FCO to the train station and then lugging all your stuff on a train–until we got detained by passport control in Amsterdam on our way home because, well, Italians don’t bother with things like stamping passports…

The glorified garden shed that is Peretola airport is easily accessible from Florence itself via bus, but I made the executive decision that we would be splurging on a cab because 2 flights in, I was already sick of Italian public transit. And it was well worth it, not only for the ease, but also for the giddiness of Scott’s face as he experienced Italian driving and traffic for the first time. Awesome.


Almost as awesome as our hotel, the gorgeous Orto de Medici, which is on a relatively quiet side street only moments away from the train station, Piazza San Marco, and the Duomo. As it was recommended on TripAdvisor, I emailed ahead to request a garden view room and mentioned it was our honeymoon. Requested–stunning–room and complimentary bottle of champagne = THIS IS A HONEYMOON NOW.


Unfortunately a few things were standing in the way of totally blissing out–WTF we were going to eat for dinner, and HOLY SHIT, we’re only in Florence for 21 hours. I had a couple of restaurant recommendations up my sleeve for the first issue, but as far as the second, it was perhaps a clerical error on my part. See, I’ve spent months in Florence. All I really needed was to make sure it was still standing. It didn’t occur to me that Scott might become instantly enamored with it. (But really, who isn’t? It’s one of the most gorgeous cities on earth. Thus the tourist hell aspect of it.)



But, to continue our tale–TIP: so, uh, you need reservations for dinner on a Friday night in Florence–after spending hours and hours (ok, more like 1 hour, but, hello, jetlag) wandering Santo Spirito, and being unable to get the lure of 4Leoni’s ravioli out of my head, we finally puppy-dog-eyed the hostess into letting us in. And then she handed us menus in Italian, and I wanted to cry. But I mustered up enough reading comprehension to order and it was a delicious dinner, overshadowed only by being so sleepy we both actually nodded off into our plates several times. TIP: Don’t count on a romantic dinner after spending 24 hours in transit!


Some gelato and a late night stroll across the Ponte Vecchio (including maybe several moments of panic that we’d never find Via San Gallo when all the streets look the fucking same and I’m drunk and tired!), and it was back to the Orto de Medici’s beautiful garden oasis for a long overdue night’s sleep.