Night as a Wine Lover in Florence Part I

This essay is from a while back. It’s a little on the long side, so I am scheduling it to post in two parts, today and tomorrow.

The Italian wine server is late. I’ve climbed to the top of this 12th century tower and am considering turning around and going back down.

I’ve wanted to go on this trip by myself for a long time; it’s been planned for months, and now, here I am. The pressure is on; I’m jet lagged. I want to grab take out food and eat in my room. I miss my husband and want to call him. Even though I will be in Florence for just one night, I have arranged family pictures on the dresser in my hotel room.

Where does a woman by herself eat? What do I order? I remember reading that one can only be called courageous in the face of fear. I guess I’m courageous then. I feel as if I’m having an out of body experience, and as if my life is in a holding pattern until tomorrow when I will meet my writing group with whom I will spend the next week in the Tuscan countryside.

When he arrives he is wearing dark rimmed glasses, jeans and a red tee shirt that skims his slight build. He is, at most, half my age. With disarming Italian familiarity that still manages to be polite, he greets me. In a gallant gesture he makes my table steady with a matchbook he pulls from his pocket and puts under one of the legs. The way he looks at me makes me feel as if I own this tower.

“What can I get you?”

“I don’t know. I think I want something red.” I may not know much, but I know that when in Italy, order red.

In a manner that makes me wish I knew more Italian, with lots of rolled “r’s,” he quickly lists the many options. None mean anything to me. In an exaggerated fashion he raises his index finger as if he has just made a profound realization about me.

“I choose for you a sangiovese and cabernet blend.”

The truth is, I don’t know a thing about wine. I’ve no clue how to describe it, because not only am I not an enthusiast, I don’t always like it. I am pleased that this Italian wine server seems to know something about me that I don’t.

I am only up here because the vantage point is touted as a highlight of staying at the Hotel Torre Guefla.

This tower with a rooftop terrace is renowned as being one of the most remarkable private views in Florence. The lovely woman who checked me in told me that wine is served on top of the tower starting at 5 o’clock. Therefore, I order wine.

… to be continued

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