Tuscany: home to Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio, the land of the Medici family's influence, a realm of Renaissance art and robust red wine. A vacation in Tuscany feels like a magical journey through time and history that everyone should experience at least once in their life. It’s one of those many beautiful places in this vast world that you must see with your own eyes, not just in pictures—where you walk its paths, discover its hidden corners, and fall hopelessly in love, because—no matter how hard you try—you cannot avoid it. In Tuscany, it is no coincidence that you are reborn. And what a wonderful way to be reborn!
I longed to visit Florence ever since, during college, I watched Hannibal with my friend Alina. We ate popcorn together and sighed at the scene in the opera house in Florence, where Anthony Hopkins recited in his unique style the first sonnet from Dante's La Vita Nuova. I have rewatched that scene so many times that I know the lines by heart; all the while, I dreamed of Florence, the ethereal light that enveloped it in Ridley Scott's images, the Tuscan hills, and their autumn colors, which are said to be unique.
Ten years later, here I am in Tuscany. Somewhere around June, during my first meeting with Ioana from vacantaintoscana.ro, the idea of the first Romanian food blog tour in this historic area of Italy, where she has lived for almost 20 years, began to take shape. Not only does she speak the language, but she knows the hidden gems, the people, the traditions, the food, and the wines, allowing her to guide you through a Tuscany that is less touristy, authentic, and true, as it is lived and felt by the locals. This is precisely how I have always preferred to explore and get to know a place, so I was thrilled when I departed on food blog tour, to experience the land of the Renaissance through Ioana’s eyes.
Now, having immersed myself in it for (just) a few days, I know that saying Tuscany is a story is an understatement. From a autumnal Florence, which I first saw at sunset, to the hills of Poggio alle Ville, with a legendary Fiat 500 gazing nostalgically from behind the stone walls, Tuscany revealed itself to us page by page, like a book.
The places, breathtakingly beautiful, are enriched by the history they carry with them, in stories, in paintings, or in kitchens; practically with every step you take through them, history overwhelms you. And history can envelop you in many forms: whether it’s an impressive art exhibition at Casa di Risparmio di Firenze opened to the public for the first time, or a landscape like something out of a postcard at Agriturismo La Toricella, or a breathtaking view from the bell tower of charming Pistoia, where you can see the entire town; it could be a walk among the olive trees at Poderaccio and the vast garden of Francesca, who works it single-handedly, relying solely on the generosity of nature, or the emotion that washes over you in a frantoio as you wait for the first drop of olive oil to flow before your eyes, fresh from the first press, warm and raw, of an incredibly intense green.
History in Tuscany could mean sipping an espresso at the bar in the purest Italian style, in a pastry shop with 60 years of sweets and excellence, where you wish you could return again and again. Or it could mean stepping back in time into the castle that belonged to the Pazzi family and entering the very room where their ancestors conspired to kill the Medicis. But it could just as easily mean harvesting vegetables and aromatic herbs from the garden of a 15th-century villa, then cooking with them in the Renaissance kitchen of the little paradise where you find yourself, unsure whether to take photos or prepare the food first.
In Tuscany, you don’t just go as a tourist; thanks to Ioana, you go as a guest. Yet, instead of leaving any hopes at the door, you depart filled with life, art, and beauty, with one thought in mind: how to return to that little piece of paradise as soon as possible. This time, I left in Tuscany not just my infinity ring (which, by a strange coincidence, I lost there just as I was leaving), but also a part of my heart that almost wouldn’t let me go. Even the return flight didn’t rush our departure: the flight was delayed by almost 5 hours, a sign that Tuscany, stormy and furious that day, didn’t want to part with us so easily.
In the end, I returned home with a suitcase stuffed with wine, olive oil, and truffle products, but above all, with stories, memories, and photos to nourish me until the next time I return to Tuscany.
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