Every day we walk past it. A villa, a heavy gate, a hillside road, a shaded garden. But do we truly know what lies behind those walls?
Guido Carocci, one of Florence’s greatest heritage experts, described these hidden treasures over 150 years ago—villas, cloisters, gardens, sacred spaces—with a tenderness that few can match today. As I delve into the layered stories of this neighborhood, I too begin to view every step through fresh eyes.
Along Via Bolognese, a quieter, older Florence emerges.
This is not the bustling city near the Duomo, but a tucked-away world unfolding on the hills under the shade of pines and cypresses.
📍 Ponte Rosso: now a lively bridge and plaza, it once collected customs duties—a gateway to the city. Though only its name remains as a reminder, keen observers may notice the archways and ancient facades that carry echoes of bygone eras.
Just beyond, Villa La Pietra—once held by the Capponi family, now part of NYU—stands majestically behind cypress-lined avenues.
Then there’s Villa Salviati, a former noble palace colored by legend—jealousy, tragedy, and hidden drama. Nearby, the San Pellegrino pilgrim church once offered solace to wayfarers.
Now, nestled into this tapestry of history is Villa Fabbricotti, a must-visit on this route:
🎩 Built in 1864 by marble magnate Giuseppe Fabbricotti, once a Strozzi hunting lodge, and transformed by Vincenzo Micheli with gardening advice from city planner Poggi. The grand entrance, winding terraces, neo-Gothic tower, fountains, and pavilion amidst towering oaks, cedars, palms, and cypresses now welcome a public stroll through enchanting greenery.
These aren’t the mainstream tourist attractions. These are stories hidden behind closed gates, whispers of everyday life, fragments of time preserved in stone.
Also along Via Bolognese you’ll find the Orto Botanico tepidarium, an elegant greenhouse; the cliffside village of La Lastra, named for its flat stones and linked with historic military plans; and Villa La Loggia, which once hosted Dante’s teacher and the Pazzi conspirators.
In this part of Florence there is a quiet dignity, a sense of permanence. The summer can be merciless—Firenze is enclosed by hills, trapping the heat—but even so, this city is lovable. In the mornings, when sunlight filters through the trees and rooftops shimmer with dew, the day feels full of potential. I drink my morning espresso in the same spot, with the same view—and it never grows old.
The neighborhood where I live doesn’t shout—it doesn’t clamor for attention, yet it holds a rare charm. I believe that’s the essence of my bond with Florence: it’s not only the beauty that draws us, but the many layers we’ve uncovered over years.
And perhaps that’s why a piece of my heart will always remain in these streets, in these stones, trees, and shifting lights.