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T+L’s Editors Share 21 Trips to Take With Mom
Italy, Florence, River Arno and Ponte Vecchio
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  • Family Vacations

T+L’s Editors Share 21 Trips to Take With Mom

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Westend61 / Gemma Ferrando

Give her an experience she can’t find elsewhere.

Florence, Italy

1 of 27

I'm confident a short, one-on-one excursion to Tuscany's major city changed my relationship with my mom forever. For reasons I can't quite remember now, she and I flew to Italy several days before my brother and my Dad met us for a Mediterranean cruise. I was newly 16, and this was the longest period we had ever spent in such close proximity—since infancy, anyway. It was July so the air was heavy and unmoving, the narrow streets choked with tourists, and the men inexhaustible. We had so, so much fun. We composed packed itineraries—the type only two such oft-headbutting, Type-A personalities can—over pizza every night. During the day, we climbed to see replicas of David, elbowed our way to the best views from the top of the Duomo, and sat on stone steps taking turns reading aloud from photo-copied pages of guide books. We were sweaty and exhausted, but somehow never bickered, so united we were in this bizarre (genetic, no doubt) desire to "win" this trip to Tuscany, to cross off every item on a to-do list compiled with input from every Tuscany guidebook in our local library. Florence, packed with history and scenery and people, was perfect for us. The city is navigable and tourist-loving—just right for exploring as mother-daughter. Plus, the food is out-of-control good, and the people so friendly it's almost laughable. (Yes, a handsome restauranteur proposed marriage to my mom, and, yes, she agreed in a totally cool, blasé way my teenage self could only dream of replicating.) —Amy Schellenbaum, digital editor

Italy, Florence, River Arno and Ponte Vecchio

T+L’s Editors Share 21 Trips to Take With Mom

Florence, Italy

I'm confident a short, one-on-one excursion to Tuscany's major city changed my relationship with my mom forever. For reasons I can't quite remember now, she and I flew to Italy several days before my brother and my Dad met us for a Mediterranean cruise. I was newly 16, and this was the longest period we had ever spent in such close proximity—since infancy, anyway. It was July so the air was heavy and unmoving, the narrow streets choked with tourists, and the men inexhaustible. We had so, so much fun. We composed packed itineraries—the type only two such oft-headbutting, Type-A personalities can—over pizza every night. During the day, we climbed to see replicas of David, elbowed our way to the best views from the top of the Duomo, and sat on stone steps taking turns reading aloud from photo-copied pages of guide books. We were sweaty and exhausted, but somehow never bickered, so united we were in this bizarre (genetic, no doubt) desire to "win" this trip to Tuscany, to cross off every item on a to-do list compiled with input from every Tuscany guidebook in our local library. Florence, packed with history and scenery and people, was perfect for us. The city is navigable and tourist-loving—just right for exploring as mother-daughter. Plus, the food is out-of-control good, and the people so friendly it's almost laughable. (Yes, a handsome restauranteur proposed marriage to my mom, and, yes, she agreed in a totally cool, blasé way my teenage self could only dream of replicating.) —Amy Schellenbaum, digital editor

Westend61 / Gemma Ferrando
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