When I first arrived in Florence, for my semester abroad in August 2012, I behaved much like I was on an extended spring-break vacation. It was a period of pure debauchery and I’m sure I only helped perpetuate the stereotype of the American girl gone wild while abroad. It was my senior year of college, and except for a B in one difficult math class, I had maintained straight A’s my entire undergraduate career. I felt like I deserved to party prior to entering the ‘real world’ of full-time jobs and bills. The labyrinth of stone walls around the city became my Renaissance playground, the wealth of clubs and bars my toys. It took me about three months to realize Florence deserved much more than being treated like a one night stand.