As always, my daughter’s pediatrician arrives promptly, bringing his reassuring insights and bright personality to our door. With a swipe of my debit card, we are both satisfied with our transactions that day and I have faith that my daughter will once again get over her illness. I have come to love the stability he brought to our lives while I was in Florence completing a one-year Master’s degree.
The same sentiments could be said for other experiences with Florence’s public and private health systems. When my daughter stumbled while running at the Pitti Palace, she acquired permanent “souvenirs” in her knee that two doctors and an attending resident paid close attention to. As someone who appreciates detail, I love to watch an Italian’s keen care for important matters. When I feared I had breast cancer, not only did my medico walk me through the 3D imaging scans, he also walked me to the main door, shook my hand and patted me on the back to ensure I found my way back to the city center. Each of us received diagnostic tests and a prognosis within an hour. Any Canadian will tell you that this kind of promptness in healthcare is unheard of right now in our country.
Our social circle grew within weeks, and my relationship with my daughter flourished as I walked her to school and back home, often stopping for a café treat on our way back. She’s bewildered that we drive ten minutes to get ice cream in our city in Ontario when we could nonchalantly grab a quality gelato on the way home in Florence. Our 30-minute triangular circuit to see the Duomo, back to the Ponte Vecchio and then through piazza Santo Spirito to our apartment was blissful as we always commented on how mild the weather was. It felt like the ballet studio my daughter attended was a mere extension of our apartment. That goes for the church we visited, but also for everyday amenities. The parents at her school graciously welcomed us into their group of friends, as their children had been in the same class since kindergarten. The moms’ group chats were supportive, informative and fun, passing around pictures of the many birthday parties everyone participated in. There was no discrimination or judgmental attitudes.
On my way to their school, I saw one of my daughter’s teachers at the local café, standing outside. He hugged me and then proceeded to introduce me to his sister. We shared a laugh about The Call of the Wild, which he was teaching to his class, written by the famous Canadian author Jack London. I also reminded him that if he wanted to know more about Canadian culture, he should find out how much Terry Fox raised as he ran (and still raises) for cancer research.
Navigating life as a foreigner in Florence certainly came with its share of challenges, however. One of the more difficult experiences involved our apartment agency. Despite our best efforts to maintain the apartment—fixing broken door knobs and cleaning thoroughly multiple times—the agency withheld several hundred euro from our security deposit based on an accusation of breaking the ceiling fan as well as leaving crumbs in the microwave.
We also encountered stressful situations outside the apartment. While riding the bus, we were approached by three stern-looking individuals in navy suits who questioned us about the validity of our bus tickets. The experience was overwhelming, especially with two young children, and left me feeling shattered. Additionally, we faced difficulties with a children’s Italian cooking class that I had booked online. We arrived just ten minutes late due to my daughter’s knee injury at the Pitti Palace, but despite the refund policy for medical issues, we were unable to secure a reimbursement and had trouble reaching them for help.
I also had puzzling experiences, such as being charged 50 euro for three gelatos at a shop near the Ponte Vecchio, where the server tapped my debit card without showing me the charges. When I questioned her, she pretended not to understand English and asked me to leave. At the time, I did not know that calling the police could have been an option.
Despite these challenges, we made wonderful memories and forged meaningful connections in Florence. We truly appreciated the many positive experiences we had along the way. I look forward to reconnecting with friends in Firenze, but I am also relieved to be back in Canada. Perhaps Canada and Italy are not so different due to a shared problem both countries are facing at the moment. Similar issues prompted by an influx of foreigners affect apartment availability and affordability for locals, job opportunities, personal space and local exploration. It’s a challenge for a country to find a balance between being welcoming and meeting the fundamental needs of every person involved. The interior design Master’s degree I received made me see the benefits of creating built environment solutions that help create a bridge between new arrivals and the existing community. Maybe I received more of an education than I had originally hoped for.
