La Prima Cena a Firenze

 

After 30+ hours of sleepless travel, we finally arrived in the land of endless plates of pasta and pizza — Italy.

With orientation starting right as we stepped into the hotel, I felt like a kindergartener on the first day of school. The next day was the big day: meeting the Italian family I would be living with for the next three and a half months. Moving my finger down the posted list of host families, I was excited to discover that my roommate was a girl from Syracuse University whom I had met the day before. As my name was called, I anxiously rose up from my chair to meet an older Italian lady, my soon-to-be nonna Italiana, Anna Maria. Right away we exchanged the customary greeting of “Buonasera!” followed by a kiss on each cheek and I quickly realized that our host mom did not speak a word of English.

After we collected our luggage and took a ten-minute taxi ride, we were home. Anna Maria told us that she lived on the third floor, which is actually the fourth floor in Italy because the first floor is ‘0.’ After finding out that there was not an elevator in the building, reality hit — I was going to have to carry two 50-pound bags up four flights of stairs. As I dragged each of my bags up step-by-step, my roommate and I were in a constant state of hysterical laughter, which would be the first of our many bonding experiences.

Once we finished unpacking, my host mom called out “Pronto!” from the kitchen, which meant one thing: it was time for my first homemade Italian dinner. For our first plate, il primo, she cut out a piece of pesto lasagna with baked Parmesan cheese crumbles on top. The first language barrier misunderstanding occurred when I thought she asked if we wanted to move onto the second dish but, in actuality, she asked if we wanted more of the first.

In response, I turned to my roommate and whispered, “Looks like we’re going to be eating a lot here.” Though we were unimaginably stuffed after finishing our second helping of the lasagna, we were served the second plate, il secondo, a baked chicken with cheese and tomatoes.

Overall, it was an evening of good conversation, in spite of the language barrier, and delicious food — what more could a true Florentine want?

XOXO,

Florentine Foodie