The day was getting hotter and hotter and I made my way up even further. I hummed to myself as I took pictures of every single object that I can aim my camera at. I didn’t care that my feet were now dead and I could feel my tshirt slowly soak in the sweat coming out of my pores.
Now, I’ve mentioned before how these Italians are so crazy when it comes to driving and each time I heard the rumble of a car engine creep up behind me, my body automatically moved to the side. The way they drove scared the living daylights out of me, speeding like rockets shooting into space! A few olive gardens grew alongside this street and the beautiful Etruscan hills protruded from the top of the high walls that housed these gardens. Faraway, little yellow villas sat on these hills with roofs brown from too much sun.
Every now and then I came across other people walking along, camera in hand, and I knew that the look they had on their faces reflected my own. It was a quiet day and I couldn’t help but wonder what activities were happening inside the walls of these yellow houses with green shutters. I remember touching the wall of one house and heard the squeal of children’s laughter from inside.
It was late when I finally made my way down. Apollo must’ve finished his rounds already because I could no longer see his sun chariot blazing in the sky. Zephyr helped blow my tired body down the narrow street to where I first came from. Suddenly, I was already back at Ponte Vecchio.
The place was still crowded and when I took a closer look, I realised that this place was packed with jewelry shops on both sides! I found one shop that had a staircase going down on its side. I gazed at the door below for a long time and finally saw a man wave at me. He was sitting in front of a table, making a pearl necklace.
The sky began to darken as if a bottle of ink had spilled its content onto its fluffy whiteness. When I finally reached the B&B, I felt as if I’d just survived a major plane crash with all parts of my body broken! I had dinner at I Ghibellini that night, a delicious Italian restaurant (if you visit Florence one day, remember to eat here!) just 5 minutes away by foot from Via Verdi. It sits in a little square called Piazza San Pier Maggiore, facing a stone archway. The rain came pouring down when my lasagna arrived and as I gazed at the curtain of water dancing before me, my thoughts flew off to Cortona, the little hilltown that I was about to visit the next morning.