Savvy Mom Ruth Paget’s Honeymoon in Italy: Arrival in Florence, Italy by Savvy Mom Ruth Paget
I
was happy to sit on a train to Paris (France) the next day and rest after my
wedding outside Tours to Laurent. The
smile muscles in my face hurt from all the photographs.
I
was not a savvy mom on my honeymoon, but I wanted to have a “cultured
lifestyle” to go with my education at the University of Chicago, so I could
raise my children well and contribute to my neighborhood as a mom.
Laurent and I saved money for a 6-week honeymoon vacation in
Italy; the Languedoc region in France; and Barcelona, Spain.
I
could hardly wait to get to Florence, so we could start our honeymoon. I had taken all the classes necessary in
college to be an art history major in college, but chose to be a Far Eastern
Languages and Civilizations major, because it would marry well with an MBA.
At
the moment, though, I felt thoroughly prepared to serve as the tour guide for
us throughout Italy. I watched the
Alpine villas roll by our windows on the way to Florence. Pretty soon, we were in tunnels speeding
towards Florence.
The
train arrived at Santa Maria Novella Station.
I immediately began gawking at the alternating green and white marble
stripes on Santa Maria Novella and asked Laurent, “Isn’t that amazing?!!”
I
was excited to see a church that I had studied in an art history class when I
was looking at Santa Maria Novella.
“We’ll have plenty of time for tourism after we get to the hotel,” Laurent said unromantically.
The
early morning sun was already beating down on us, and pretty soon we were
drenched in sweat in the July heat.
I
began to agree with Laurent that there was time to sightsee when I would not be
walking through town with a backpack.
Laurent
expertly guided us through octagonal-piazzas and diagonal streets to our hotel
in a Florentine fortified apartment with a tower.
I
loved the ochre-colored buildings that had floral paintings on them around us as
well as the sturdy stone towers that kept marauders out in less peaceful times.
Whole
families occupied entire buildings that were spacious apartments now. Our room opened out to a private terrace with
potted plants on it.
After
getting our bags situated, we walked to the university district for
dinner. The Florentines wore shirts that
had creases in the sleeves from ironing I noticed.
The
women all seemed to have pedicures with red toenail polish, which their sandals
set off to advantage. I even saw one
pair of sandals that had turquoise inlaid in the thong part.
“Italian
women have the prettiest feet,” I remarked to myself. I though they were wonderfully thin,
too. I thought all Italian women were
going to be plump, pasta eaters.
We
were looking for restaurants where we could have a real Italian meal and
settled on a trattoria with lots of Italian men inside eating big lunches.
By
Ruth Paget, author of Eating Soup with Chopsticks and Marrying France
Click here for: Ruth Paget's Amazon Books
Click here for: Ruth Paget's Amazon Books
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