Alone in Florence

The author's view of the Duomo

I tried to enjoy my last few hours in Brooklyn on my way to the airport, but anxiety took over—a lump formed in my throat and tears flooded my eyes. I didn’t want to leave. The thought of flying to Italy alone, meeting 13 strangers I’ll be spending three weeks with, suddenly felt overwhelming. 

But it was too late; I registered for the class and bought plane tickets, and everything was set. I convinced myself this experience would be good for me. COVID stunted my growth as a person. I felt like a 16-year-old in a 20-year-old body. This would be the perfect experience to bridge the gap.

On the first Sunday of each month, Florence offers free entry to museums. Some of my classmates wanted to take advantage. I saw it as an opportunity to explore the city with semi-familiar people. Our first stop was the Gallery of Academia. Everyone broke up into pairs or trios, but I wasn’t anyone’s pick. Alone it was. I stood behind a crowd of clicking cameras in front of Michelangelo’s David. Underwhelmed by the smaller-than-expected statue, I walked towards the plaster cast gallery. I reached the gift shop and looked around as I waited for the others to finish.

We left the museum and spotted a small gelato shop, Carabré. The door frame served as a portal from the gray, wet winter to warm, yellow Tuscan decor. I asked my classmates which flavor to get, but no one answered. So I just got my usual: coffee. We ate our icy scoops and formed a circle to chat. I smiled and locked eyes with Megan, who wore black-framed glasses, but she looked away. Whenever I said something, no one acknowledged me. 

This felt all too familiar. I was always singled out and dismissed, as if no one cared that I was there.

To escape the awkwardness, I stepped outside to a seating area and finished my gelato. The cobblestone streets and centuries-old buildings offered better company. I stepped back into an empty shop. I snapped around, peaked my head out the door, and looked to the left. I didn’t see Kasper’s big olive-green jacket. I looked to the right, and they were halfway down the block. I stood there for five seconds with my jaw hitting the floor. I reluctantly walked faster to catch up with them.

I saw Maria look around as if something was wrong. She turned around and saw me. “Where did you go?” she asked. 

“You guys left me!” I said. No other words were exchanged. The others didn’t notice. Not even my roommate, Sam.

I brushed it off and trailed behind them, staring at Ella’s red plaid scarf as I lugged her hotel umbrella with me. I pulled up directions to our hotel. They stopped in front of the closed National Archeological Museum to figure out which museum to explore next. Trudging towards five faces staring back at me, I told them I’m going back to the hotel. Their faces stayed neutral as they asked me if I was alright. I lied and said nothing was wrong.

Their presence weighed me down the way my long winter coat did. I could no longer deal with them. I was afraid to go my own way, but Maps was all I needed at this point. It was the only thing that wouldn’t disappoint me.

I walked down Via dei Servi. The cathedral towered over the buildings in my peripheral vision. I got closer and closer without taking my eyes off it. The patterns and designs on the walls became clearer. The red and green became brighter. The top of the orange-tiled dome became harder to see. My memory of this view would not have been as strong if I were still with people draining my energy.

I continued making my way back to the hotel. I strolled along the Arno River. A storefront caught my eye, Signum. The name was familiar. As I took a couple of steps closer, I saw books, knick-knacks, and stamps. This store was on my list of things to visit in Florence. I rushed inside. I remember thinking this was meant to be. What were the chances of stumbling upon a store I planned on going to? 

Being alone in a foreign country wasn’t as bad as I thought. Learning that I’m truly the only person I can rely on forced me to grow.

Overstimulated by my big scarf and my bag repeatedly falling off my shoulder, I went back to the hotel and switched. I scanned my room to make sure I was ready to head out. A sudden wave of excitement came over me. I retraced my steps back to Signum, despite the pain in my feet. I was walking alone in the streets of Florence for the first time.