by Nicole Bravo
Our final evening in Florence was the most memorable. After a three-course meal at Il Contadino, a local blue-collar workers hub, we set out in hopes of encountering the local music scene. We wandered toward a piazza off the beaten tourist track, which our host had told us about (3km northeast of Ponte Vecchio). Making our way into the locals-only gathering, we heard a very different kind of music than we'd heard thus far. We also saw various people dancing in a way we'd never seen before.
Our final evening in Florence was the most memorable. After a three-course meal at Il Contadino, a local blue-collar workers hub, we set out in hopes of encountering the local music scene. We wandered toward a piazza off the beaten tourist track, which our host had told us about (3km northeast of Ponte Vecchio). Making our way into the locals-only gathering, we heard a very different kind of music than we'd heard thus far. We also saw various people dancing in a way we'd never seen before.
It was not your usual stage setup with musicians staggered on a platform; there was actually no stage at all. At one side of the square, with pieces and parts of a sound system, was a group of musicians. You had your lead singer on the acoustic guitar, three tambourine players playing slightly different rhythms that all worked together, a trumpet player, and a jack of all trades switching between the bass, accordion, and ukulele, sometimes all within one song.
The band played upbeat music and mostly women danced, with scarves in their hands. I sat for a while, playing an imaginary tambourine on my leg, trying to get their complicated rhythms just right. One man stepped away from the band, handed me his and showed me how to play it. Just then, a new song commenced and it was no longer mostly ladies on the dance floor but everyone joined in this traditional group dance. My partner and I danced side by side for a few moments following the couple in front of us in a big circle. Then we all joined hands and danced together kicking our feet toward the middle and winding around the square like one long snake. There was no form or order, you just followed what the people around you were doing. Every now and then someone would rise up as a self-appointed leader and change the dance and everyone would follow suit. Sounds of laughter, music, and the pitter patter of feet wafted up toward the skies and the heavens joined in our revelry as raindrops began to kiss our faces and follow in our footsteps. Eventually the song ended, as did our dance, and we were astounded that even the skies held back the rain once the music stopped.
