Packing for a Trip to Spain: What to Bring and What to Leave at Home

The moment I’d announced I’d bought a house in Spain, the requests for the proverbial ‘roof-over-my-head’ while traveling through came pouring in.

Come on! It’s not like I lived in a box under the Triana bridge for seven years!

I hosted my first international visitor not six weeks after moving house, and even as a heavy traveler who works for a travel planning company, the frantic whatsapps came in about last -minute packing (never mind the time difference between us!).

packing light

As someone who can pack for a week in Eastern Europe in the same pack as an overnight trip to Granada in the middle of a cold spell, I find getting together a suitcase for a Spain trip to be a bit of a challenge. I think back to my move to Spain in 2007: I loaded my bag with extra American goodies in lieu of a winter jacket and – surprise! – it gets chilly in Southern Spain. And then there was the 7 kilo pack job for the Camino de Santiago, a feat I’m still proud of!

It you’re packing for a short trip to Spain, consider how you’re traveling (trains with virtually no baggage weight limits? Budget airline with strict rules about dimensions?) as well as where and when. Then, think about where you’ll be staying, as Spain offers a dozen different types of accommodation options.  

What to Pack for Spain

But no matter what, consider taking out that extra pair of sandals to make room for these essentials:

Tissue Packets

I am still puzzled as to why ladies bathrooms in Spain see no need to stock up on toilet paper. Throw a couple of extras in your purse for when the need arises (most likely in the airport or train station upon arrival).

Sun Protection

I once proclaimed to be thankful for sunglasses because, man, is it bright in Spain! And as someone with fair skin, I even put on sun cream to hang my laundry out to dry on the terrace, and once tried using tears to convince an Italian airport security agent to let me through with “prescription” sunblock. No matter what, sun care should trump a party dress or box of candy while you’re on the road, be it an extra hat, SPF lip balm and make up, or bottles of SPF 45 (plus, sunscreen is crazy expensive in Spain!).

A Light Jacket or Sweater

Don’t let the hot sun fool you – Spain has a Mediterranean climate, which means winters can be damp and chilly. A light sweater or jacket is an absolute must for any time of year, and canvas or nylon are good choices for durability. Cotton cardigans work nicely in warmer months and can be dressed up or down.

A voltage converter

While most electronics nowadays come with adapors, older models may burn out if you bring them on your trip. The reason is simple: American voltage works at 110 volts, and European at 220. This means that your appliance will work twice as hard, so invest in a quality converter (or, hey!, you can toss the fried straightener and lighten your load!). Remember that European plugs have two round prongs.

Extra copies of your passport and travel plans

passport U.S.

Any traveler swears by this – you should have at least one extra copy of your passport picture page and your travel plans in case of theft or destruction, and these things should be kept in a separate place than the actual documents. While you’re at it, send scans to yourself and a trusted friend back home just in case. It’s also wise to write down nearby consulates in case you do need replacements.

Small packets of laundry detergent

Laundromats are hard to come by in Spain, and they’re often expensive. If you can manage it, wash your clothes in the sink and hang them to dry using small packets of powdered detergent. They’ll not only pass through airport security, but also won’t weigh you down. Plus, they’re easy to replace at perfumerias.

Your credit card and some extra euros on hand

The Euro is falling, so maximize your tourist dollars by using your credit card (but call your bank before leaving home!). You can get extra points if you have a rewards card or earn towards goodies. Coming with 20-40 will also cut down on ATM or currency exchange fees when you need to hail a cab upon arrival, so pre-order from your bank at home for better rates.

Leave it at home:

Uncomfortable shoes (especially high heels)

Streets in Spain are often uneven and you’ll do a lot of walking, so bring sturdy, comfortable shoes. Even after seven years here, I can barely walk in Chucks without tripping, so save space (and face) by skipping the heels.

Your favorite outfit

Thankfully, all of my lost bags have been returned to me, but I’m usually careful to pack half of my favorite outfits in one bag, and the other half in the other. So what if you’re wearing the same outfit in pictures by wearing neutrals? You’re not Kim Kardashian, so the only person who probably cares is you.

cat on dubrovnik city walls

Instead, pack one bright or bold piece. I packed for a week in Dubrovnik and Montenegro in one carry on, and having a bright pink blazer served to dress up jeans and a T-shirt and helped me stand out in photos while traveling in two beautiful destinations (um, and so did that black eye…).

Expensive jewelry

Petty theft is an unfortunate reality in Spain, so you can leave expensive accessories at home. If you can’t bear it, consider taking out insurance just in case, and know how to fill out a police report just in case.

A simple, lightweight scarf will do the trick, and you won’t be bummed if you leave it in a hostel or quirky café.

The true test: Can you cart around your suitcase and personal items without the help of others? Imagine, if you will, doing it up stairs and down cobblestone roads. If you can’t do it, it’s time to repack!

Packing 101

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Need some packing inspiration? My friend and Seville expat Karen McCann is a suitcase superhero – she did months of rail travel in Eastern Europe with just one carry-on! – has just written a fun and quick read of an ebook on her packing trips, honed after years of traipsing around the world and visiting 50 countries. Pack Light is all you need to read to prepare for your trip (or at least the monumental task of deciding what to take).

When she sent me a copy, I could almost imagine every compartment in her rolling suitcase – which measures 21 x 13 x 7.5! – and I found myself laughing just as I did when reading Enjoy Living Abroad, a chronicle of expat life in Seville and one of her three published books. It’s easily digested and practical, and because it’s digital, it won’t take up space or weight. A woman who heeds her own advice!

PackLightCoverArt  low res

Karen is giving away two of her ebooks to Sunshine and Siestas readers. All you have to do it leave a comment about your biggest packing faux pas, or leave a word of advice for other travelers. Contest ends on February 28th, upon which winner will be notified via email with a download link.

If you’re looking for packing tips for long-term travel to Spain or a stint abroad, pick up a copy of COMO Consulting’s eBook “Moving to Spain” for individual packing lists and suggestions.

Yes, Boss! : On Learning to Drive a Tuk Tuk in India

“Ok Boss, you take over now.” Mukul grinned widely as he took his hands off of the glorified bike handlebars that constitute the steering wheel, ignition and gas pedal of a tuk tuk, and motioned for me to take over. We were in the middle of rush hour traffic in Agra, India (which is, for the record, every waking hour of the day in my observation). My eyes most have grown wide in the rearview mirror because he took over again just as soon as I’d shaken my head no.

A tuk tuk is a ubiquitous symbol in many Asian and African countries, used to transport passengers most commonly. It’s like a motorized tricycle with a rudimentary automobile body resting on top. We had been warned: keep your hands and feet inside, and don’t take any babies offered to you on street corners.

Tuk Tuks in India

From the first time we took one in Delhi – from our hostel in M Block to the Lotus temple – I was hooked. In fact, we’d skip bicycle-pulled rickshaws and even elephants to get around India, always amazed at how fast the little things zipped, and how easily they’d maneuver through traffic.

Tuk tuk drivers have to have their driver’s license, but you’d never know. On more than one occasion, I was nervous the thing would tip over (or I’d fall out) when a driver would take turns to fast, or that the whole “Oh, everyone honks their horn, even though it’s illegal” excuse was enough reason to garner a fine. It was thrilling but oftentimes scary. 


In Delhi, we preferred taking the women’s only train car on the underground, but gritty Agra merited a tuk tuk. Mukul was employed by the homestay we’d be staying at and offered to be at our service the whole day – for 6€. The ride from the station took ten minutes, as the road ere clogged with commuters in trucks, cars, motorcycles and tuk tuks, along with the odd cow or goat. I was impressed with how the tuk tuk’s three wheels could navigate roundabouts with no clear traffic signs or lanes.

“You see, to drive is so fun!” Mukul said. I would take his word for it. 

After dropping our bags and adding our names to an ancient guest book that registered travelers from all over the world, Mukul took us to the Taj Mahal. Built along the Yamuna River as a mausoleum to Shah Jahan’s third wife, the whole reason we’d come north was to see the building said to make the sun and moon shed cheers. He dropped up near the bazaars to the south of the complex and told us he’d wait there for two hours.

Visiting the Taj Mahal Agra

The Taj was stunning, just as I imagined it would be.

And that made Agra Fort, where Shah Jahan was imprisoned until his death, facing the mausoleum, all the more meh.

Deciding to skip the Baby Taj that afternoon for a nap (old habits die-hard, even while traveling), Mukul was waiting for us outside the homestay, napping himself with his feet sticking out of the tuk tuk. “Hop in boss! You drive?” he asked, stepping out of the vehicle.

Tuk Tuk Drivers

We again declined and had him take us to the Mehtab Bagh, manicured lawns facing the northern facade of the Taj. We admired the temple from afar as the sun begin to wane. It was one of those moments where the world seemed to stop and I found myself nearly short of air – it’s that magical, and I felt at the same time 8 and 80 with wonder. I made an announcement:

“I’m going to ask if I can drive Mukul’s tuk tuk.” Hayley gave me the same bewildered look that I had given our driver that morning.

Mukul was having a chai tea at the stand across the street from where he’d left us, chatting with other drivers and holding the cup with just three fingers. He immediately sat up, gulp his tea down and unleashed the grin when I told him I’d like to take him up on his offer. 

How a tuk tuk works

There wasn’t much of a learning curve: you switched on the engine, then rolled the handbar throttle to get the thing going. We tuk-tukked down the road back towards the Red Fort, Mukul sitting at my side to steady the handlebars. The cylinders seemed to be in the steering mechanism – I could feel all of the energy pulsating through my hands.

I felt like I was speeding, risking an accident (or insurance claim), like I could maybe take on the traffic on the ring road. 

Tuk Tuk Driving

Then another vehicle passed and I told Mukul I was finished, just before we found the Muti Mahal neighborhood buzzing in the wake of the elections, which took place that very day. Marigold garlands had been strung in doorways, and people were drinking fizzy water while sitting on plastic chairs. We sped past them, honking.

“Ok, Boss! Next time you come to India, you drive to the city!” he offered, but Agra was sadly a disappointment overall.

Riding in tuk tuks in India

We took one more tuk tuk ride with Mukul, from the home stay to the train station, stopping for a milky chai tea at a roadside hut. Ali would be waiting for us on the other side of  a sleeper train with a decked out tuk tuk, stories from his guru and the same large grin it seemed every Indian we encountered had.

When I think about India, I can almost feel the two-stroke engine under my butt and the potholes, just the same as I taste a warm butter naan or smell the sandalwood. 

The Colors of India - Tuk Tuks

On our last day in India, trying to spend our rupees as we suffered through a humid day in Mumbai, a street vendor on Elefanta Island was peddling small, plastic tuk tuks. We bargained him from 100 rupees each to 100 for both – about 1.30€. The toy barely fit in my bag, already replete from clothing purchases, tea and spices. It’s now sitting near my desk as a reminder of road trips, of awakened senses and that lonely road near the Mehtab Bagh.

Would you ever drive a car in a country like India?

Want more of this eye-opening country? Check out Learning by Watching | The Colors of India | The Hawa Mahal

My 2014 Travel Roundup

2014 will be a year that marked just as many beginnings as it did ends. It’s a year that I can’t decide whether or not it goes in the win tally or not, as I just crossed one destination off of my Spain wish list, and a major purchase left me in financial shambles. After a successful 2013, both professionally and in travel, 2014 passed quickly with several small trips in Spain, a life-changing sojourn in India and several personal victories.

sunshine and siestas 2014 Travel

But, ugh, my passport isn’t getting enough exercise lately, thanks to the end of financial whimsy and the beginning of a shared future.

January

My year in travel started with a huge face palm: After a nine-day Danube cruse with my parents – and stopping in Slovakia, my 31st country – I was looking forward to ringing in 2014 with the Novio and his family in Madrid. Instead, my plane was rerouted to Cluj-Napoca, Romania.

spanish airport departure board

Instead of eating my twelve grapes, I spent hours trying to find a way back to Spain, finally paying a local to drive me over the Romania-Budapest border to catch a plane the next morning. I began 2014 with two freshly minted passport stamps, 300€ less and a story of bad travel luck.

Read More: My Biggest Travel Fiasco

February

metro of Madrid

Being a short month, I only escaped to Madrid one rainy weekend for a baby shower. I have a deep-rooted love for the Spanish capital, so roaming a new neighborhood while snacking on tortilla is always a good way to spend a weekend.

Plus, there is thai food in Madrid.

Read More: Rainy Days in Madrid

March

By far the busiest travel month of the year, I spent nearly every weekend away from Seville.

the village of Carmona Spain

I took my friend Phyllis to nearby Carmona, with its beautifully preserved Roman ruins and towering churches, for a day. Carmona makes a perfect little day trip from the capital because of its proximity and the fact that it’s so darn picturesque. We pounded the pavement and visited several small chapels before tucking into local sweets.

The following weekend, I took advantage of a free Vueling flight to visit my friend Julie on Tenerife. Though the island is a haven for sun-seeing Northern Europeans, Julie and her boyfriend have made the less-touristy north their home. They took me all-around the island, from hiking the Teide volcano to eating at local wineries, called guachinches

Tenerife Road Trip - The View from Las Teresitas

And finally, a week later, I cashed in on a contest win in Trujillo, medieval city in Extremadura hat is considered to be the cradle of conquistadors. Using the luxurious Trujillo Villas as our home base, we explored the Yuste and Guadalupe Monasteries, along with the hidden gem of Garganta la Olla

Read more: Carmona, the perfect day trip from Seville | A Tenerife Road Trip | Trujillo Villas

April

My ten days off for Holy Week is always a welcome respite from work, but especially because it gives me a great window of time to explore Europe. While our plan was to enjoy a Berlin springtime and perhaps jet to Poland for a few days, an internet search yielded reasonable plane tickets a little further afield – Hayley and I headed to India.

Learning by doing in India - Taj Mahal

It took us well over a day to get there – five hours overnight to Madrid, two flights, a bus transfer and another flight up to Delhi – but it was worth it once we’d gotten our sea legs (only to be replaced by Delhi Belly..ugh). We spent eight days between bustling Delhi, smelly and cramped Agra, soulful Jaipur and muggy Mumbai.

In short, I loved it, and can’t way to go back.

driving a tuk tuk in India

I have so many more stories to tell of India – it’s been on my heart and mind since our business class ride back to Europe.

Read more about India: The Dream of India | Learning by Watching and Doing | Should I Ride an Elephant in India? | The Colors of India

May

sunset over porto montenegro

While my cousin was visiting in late May, we received a phone call from my mother, asking us to say goodbye to our beloved, if slightly mischievous, grandfather. Those were hard days, being so far away from home, but a week home to be with my family after his passing helped me out things into perspective in the face of my 29th birthday – and soon afterwards, wedding planning began.

Another end. Another beginning.

Read more: Grieving as an Expat

June

new house

Just after returning from the US, the Novio and I signed a mortgage on our new house. This is the ultimate end (of my freedom to travel, to buy clothes and to eat out all the time) and the beginning of a new stage of my life. 

July

July was a weird month – moving into a cavern of a house, having my bank account frozen for 13 days (if that isn’t a sign, I don’t know what is) and having my sister and her now fiancé visit us. We spent a few days around Seville, mostly eating and drinking and eating more.

family travel in Southern Spain

And for the first time in five years, I didn’t head to Galicia for summer camp. Instead, I co-wrote an eBook on Moving to Spain and showed the Novio around the Midwest.

Read more: all of my posts on Galicia and La Coruña | Culture Shock in My Own Country

August – December

When I checked into the Madrid-Barajas airport before Christmas, the warning said it all – It’s been four months since you’ve checked in at an airport. A sad reality when you’re a homeowner struggling to budget after four years of rent-free living.

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I have escaped back to Madrid for another soggy weekend, spent some time in Valladolid visiting my host family, and have managed a few small day trips to places like Ronda and Setenil de las Bodegas, El Puerto de Santa María, San Nicolás and Ávila, but my browser history shows no travel sites or booking portals. 2015 has me dreaming of a honeymoon, or at least a trip away somewhere with my husband-to-be.

As I write, I’m sitting in our Condo in Copper Mountain, Colorado. Mountains truly feed my soul, and getting back on the slopes after six years has my legs fried but my heart happy. After spending eight Christmases in five countries and seven cities, I’d say we’re leaving behind our childhood traditions for a new one: TRAVEL.

Looking ahead

Cat+EnriqueEngagement078

photo by Chrystl Roberge Photography

I don’t have any big things locked in for 2015, but I am looking forward to a new year and what it will bring: turning 30 and marrying the Novio. I’m a follower of the School of Let’s Have an Adventure, so I’m pretty confident that I won’t need an excuse to jump in Pequeño Monty and chase one down.

What was your most memorable travel memory this year, and what’s on your schedule for 2015? 

Visiting Munich’s Christmas Markets

Exploring Munich's Christmas Markets

I’d long been hoping to visit Germany during Christmas time. After five trips to Deutschland during the coldest months of the year, I finally made it to Oktoberfest, an absolute dream for beer lovers.

But shortly after my trip to the Weis’n, my parents decided to spend Christmas on the Danube River aboard a river boat, leaving from Munich. Glühwein for all!

Christkindlemarkt Munich

After a chaotic trimester, I tacked on a Friday and Saturday onto a weeklong cruise to eat my way around the Bavarian capital. Flight delays dropped me into the city near midnight, and after fumbling around my hostel dorm room to try to change into pajamas, I woke up still fully clothed and running late to meet my cousin, Christyn.

The hostel workers pointed me towards the city center and circled no fewer than ten markets around town, most of which were clumped around Marienplatz. Even before 10am, the streets smelled of seared meat and sweet, candied nuts, but my sensors detected something else: the GLÜHWEIN. 

The delicious gluhwein

But in all seriousness, is there anything so delightful?

I chose a booth right in front of the statue that gives Marienplatz its name, and it seems she had the same idea: as soon as I’d wrapped my paws around the steaming cup, she’d sidled up next to me and ordered one, too.

The oldest Munich Christmas market, then called Nicholausmarkt, dates back to the 14th century, and  the city now has themed stalls all around town, from traditional to children’s to even a medieval markets that sells pelts and wooden swords. We began at Marienplatz, which has traditional offerings like Christmas decorations and food – and slowly worked our way around the periphery markets.

Visit the Munich Christmarkets

Munich Christmas Cookies

Christmas time in the Munich markets

peacocks in Munich

 

Eating brats in Munich

Christmas Time in Europe

Christmas markets and ornaments

How delicious is Gluhwein!

In the end, my money went not to whimsical dolls or ornaments for my fake Christmas tree, but to food and drink to keep me warm! I’d see more markets in Passau, Vienna and Salzburg on that trip, but Munich’s is more magical – even for a Scrooge like me!

Interested in reading more about Munich? Check out my posts on Oktoberfest, on my thoughts on Neuschwanstein and the surprising village of Passau.

Have you ever been to Munich or any Christmas markets?

The Colors of India

Lately, India has been on my mind. 

Well, actually, it’s been on my mind for the six months its been since I brought back a virus and a heart bursting with an affection for a country I didn’t realize I ever wanted to visit. And maybe it’s knowing I’ll be grounded for a while that has me drifting back to my last big adventure as a single lady.

Once Hayley and I got past the initial shock of India – its smells, its traffic and noise, its humidity – our senses made everything a heightened experience. I salivate at the first aloo gobi at Touch of Spice and the layers in the thali in Mumbai. The smell of incense when passing the door of a temple. The cacophony of darn horns because, well, that’s what they’re for right?

India assaulted my senses, and none more so than the sense of sight. I was shocked to find an India that was more colorful than I’d imagined. Reds and whites and yellows flood my consciousness when I close my eyes and remember India.

That, and aloo gobi. Ñom.

Red // laala

Red is an obvious color for India, given its numerous Mughal forts in and around the Golden Triangle. But besides the beet-colored palaces, we found red in temple markings, ubiquitous souvenirs and bindis. 


Pink // gaØlaabai

While I hadn’t initially included Jaipur on our list of places to visit in India, it was my favorite city. Nicknamed “The Pink City,” Jaipur was painted pink in the late 19th century to welcome the Prince of Wales. I found the Hawa Mahal to be absolutely enchanting, though the langurs at Monkey Temple, not so much.

Yellow // pailaa

The color of marigolds being strung outside of temples, of glittering turrets and dreamy sunsets – yellow looks good on India. Even amidst reds and greens, yellow seemed to pop.

Green // hra

Green will always remind me of those wild tuk tuk rides we took, particularly with Mukul and Ali. I learned to embrace the motorized tricycle and its ability to weave in and out of traffic. We didn’t find many green spaces in the city, but will pops of color elsewhere, I hardly noticed.

Blue // nailaa

You have to look a little bit harder to find the blue. Wisps of contamination, particularly in the big cities, blot out the blue sky I’m used to seeing in Spain every afternoon, so the few blue hues stood out. And then there are those blue Indian Railways trains. In the more memorable of the two (or perhaps more Indian) trip, we were escorted to a sleeping car and, lulled to sleep by the sound of Utter Pradesh melting into the deserts of Rajasthan. 

White // safðd

Few whites are to be seen – everything in India seems to have a layer of dirt or dust but the beyond pristine Taj Mahal. 

But the whites somehow gleamed and made the other colors stand out next to them. India is the sort of place where you can walk across the street and see a sea of contrasts – in sari styles, in mustaches, in skin color – but the colors are just as vivid no matter where you are.

Have you ever been to a place where color has blown you away?

Read more on India and Colors: Why I Didn’t Ride an Elephant at the Amber Fort // Córdoba, the Technicolor City

The Best-Kept Secrets in Florence

I admit I’m terrible at keeping secrets, but only the kind that you’re bursting to share with people. The kind where no one is being talked about and no one will get hurt.

I would have loved to keep the Novio completely in the dark about our Tuscan holiday until we arrived to the airport in January 2013, but as someone who hates surprises, it was easier to tell him to pack for a weekend of eating and drinking, with a little bit of walking around in between courses.

It’s not secret that I love Italy and just about everything I’ve experienced – my great aunt married an Italian just off the boat, and together they founded Chicago-based Italian food import company Dell’Alpe. Italian food and language have always been present at my family gatherings. The Novio had never been to anywhere north of Cagliari, so I bought him round-trip tickets, a secret I kept for less than three hours. 

Having spent my first solo trip in Florence, the city’s main sights held little mystique, so I got a local to spill the beans – Tiana Kai, an American married to a Fiorentino, who sent me a list of bars, enotecas and hole-in-the-wall trattorias. But everything went out the window when we arrived cold and hungry to Florence after 10pm.

Despite wrong turns, nearly scratching our rental car and being at the inability to find our hotel, the concierge suggested a hidden trattoria for dinner. When I say hidden, I meant really was – even after an exhaustive Internet search, I still can’t find the name. It was near the Mercato Centrale and just as nondescript as every family-run restaurant on the street.

We arrived just before the kitchen closed around 11pm. Ushered to a table and poured glasses of wine, we blinked blindly at the menu, which was all in Italian. A group of American students chattered nearby, crinkly their glasses of Chianti together every opportunity they got.

I found two words I knew – ravioli and gorgonzola – and settled on it. The Novio ordered another ravioli dish and a plate of antipasto. We broke a no-pasta-or-rice-before-bedtime rule.

The restaurant’s kitchen was just over his right shoulder, so I watched the chef hand roll the pasta, shape the raviolis and stuff what looked like pulled pork into the small squares of pasta. Lumps of cheese went into mine, which were then tossed in a wine sauce and garnishes with walnuts. The Novio had unwillingly chosen wild boar, which is also the unofficial mascot of the city (hence the photo).

The following morning dawned cold but bright. I walked the Novio past all of the important sites – the Uffizi Galleries, the Duomo, Ponte Vecchio. We vowed to spend our euros on food and drink, and therefore skipped the lines at the Medici palace for an espresso in the square, just steps from the iconic David statue.

We ended up near Santa Croce at noon. Entrance was a few euros, but as soon as the Novio found out it was Franciscan, he was willing to fork over the equivalent of a nice glass of wine. Though not a secret, hidden church, this basilica houses the remains of illustrious Italians, like Galileo and Michealangelo, in addition to providing respite from the cold sun. It’s a simple church, though its 16 chapels house frescoes from celebrated Italian artists.

We sat in the adjacent plaza after our visit,and I turned on my data to try and find a hole-in-the-wall pizza place I’d visited a few years back and found an open wi-fi code at a nearby wine bar. 

A college friend of mine had studied in Florence and recommended Il Gato e la Volpe. I had a meal there five years before, during my first trip alone in 2008. The waiters had sat me with an Italian American family who shared their wine and breadsticks with me as I devoured a pizza by myself.

Secret or not, this is as dive bar as classy Florence gets – wood paneling, rickety chairs and the smell of burnt pizza crust. We shared a liter of beer, a pizza and gnocchi with pesto for less than 12€, the price of a plate of pasta or individual pizza in a moderate restaurant near any major site in the city. (Via Ghiballina, 151, near Santa Croce. Open Daily)

We walked off our plates in the neighborhood, exploring roadside monuments and tucked-away piazzas before ending up back at the Arno and within view of the Ponte Vecchio.

The last place on our list was Piazzela Michelangelo – not an off-the-map place by any means, but most tourists don’t know it’s accessible by car. Tiana had clued us is, so we grabbed our bags from the hotel, shifted into first gear, and climbed the winding street in our Fiat.

The views were stunning on the clear day. We traced our steps through the narrow roads of the so-called Cradle of the Renaissance, from the Mercato Centrale to the Duomo to the backstreets of Santa Croce.

We were soon on the road to Bologna, food capital of Italy, where we’d skip again the leaning towers in favor of pasta, oysters and wine. Even in Emilia Romagna, we’d find locals willing to lead us to local foodie hangouts and invite us to rounds of grappa in the university area.

We left Italy after 48 hours, easily a few kilos heavier and without seeing any major sites. Unless, of course, you could seeing the Ponte Vecchio from afar.

Have you ever been to Florence or Bologna? 

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