For the spring semester of my 2019 junior year, I decided to study abroad in Florence Italy. After many frustrating upsets with scholarships and loans and a last minute packing fiasco, I finally got on a plane. I left January 9th from Chicago and after about 27 hours of no sleep I made it to the little Bed and Breakfast I would be staying at before heading to my apartment the next day(I got there the 10th, the program didn’t start till the 11th). I got into my room and asked the nice old Italian lady who owned the B&B where a good place to eat was, she directed me to a restaurant down the street where I would get a discount because I was staying at the B&B. I headed out at around 6:15 down the street towards the restaurant I arrived at a closed restaurant. I was unaware that in Italy, most restaurants don’t open till 7pm. So for about 45 minutes, I walked around trying my best not to look like a complete tourist. Finally the restaurant opened, I walked in to a very aggressive hostess, for a moment I thought that they were still closed till she pointed at me and very aggressively in the most Italian accented English ever, asked if I was by myself and if I would like to sit at table in the corner of the restaurant. I just shook my head yes, I was afraid that if I did anything different I would surely be scolded. I sat down and ordered a Calabrese Pizza and the house wine. With my meal came some fresh bread as well, which was about as dry as the desert itself. I tried the house wine,
On no, that’s bad
that’s really bad, we are 0/3 at the moment, but I still had hope for the pizza.
After a few moments and odd glances from others in the restaurant my pizza came.
“this is it,” I thought, time to try the best pizza ever, ya know, cause I’m in Italy the motherland of pasta and pizza. As the pizza was set down in front of me the delicious smell of salami and mushrooms overtook me. The moment of bliss was undercut as I noticed that…
Like someone used my pizza to make a small diorama of wetland or swamp,
Not only that but the pizza was much larger than I was expecting and many of the Italians in the restaurant were giving me looks, like “what is this tourist doing eating alone and why is he eating so MUCH alone as well?”
Oh boy, I’ve made a mistake
I attempted to eat and mostly succeeded, the flavor was good but the soupiness of the pizza ruined it for me, I would’ve had an easier time if I was brought a soup spoon instead of a fork and knife. I had to cut the pizza into slices then fold the middle up to the sturdy part of the crust so I could manage to eat it without spilling the pizza swamp everywhere.
I learned something that night, not all pizza in Italy is good, So check Yelp and make sure to head out at 7, but at least I got that discount. 🙂