We were headed to Florence. It was mid-August and the weather forecast warned us rather sternly of temperatures in the mid-30s. The truth was we did not need to be convinced to slow down. We were returning to Florence for the light, for the food, for a vacation from our vacation. We wanted to sleep in late and wander the city and eat when we were hungry.
We wanted a hotel that felt comfy, a home “away”. We wanted to find a small hotel with character, with carefully chosen art on the walls and a guest book in the hallway. I dreamed of a room with creamy lemon coloured walls and light green doors and soft linens on our bed. I wanted to walk through our room, and throw open the dark green wooden doors to the rooftop terrace. Early one morning, we would wake before dawn and I would sit on the terrace and watch the sun rise. One night, I would buy a Corona and think of Mexico as I drank half of that golden bottle of beer and Florence and I would settle into the almost-coolness of evening. DP and I would become part of the household. The owners, Carmel from Boston and Pino, an Italian sailor (I would always think of him as a pirate) would invite us to share their dinner as if that was the most natural thing in the world. I would wake to the sounds of Pino and his parrot conversing in that secret language reserved for pirates and parrots. We would arrive home from the market one afternoon, parcels of scarves and packages of sun dried tomatoes in hand, as large drops of rain began to fall on the city. We would open the doors to the terrace to watch the storm and the cat would wander tentatively into our room. Soon she would make it known that this was her room and that we were only passing through. We would sigh because we knew it was true.
Hotel Il Bargellino
Via Guelfa 87, 50129 Firenze, Italia
Telephone: (055) 238-2658