Flying into Tuscany without a word of Italian to my name was possibly not the best decision, but then again, my whole idea of going to Italy at the end of a gap year was a bit last minute. For the first couple of weeks, I was reduced to having to communicate with my landlady via the medium of a frantic, unworkable point-and-sign language, but thanks to my choice of language school and her rather pretty son’s helpfulness, this soon dissolved into stilted, but workable conversations.

But it was a decision I’ll never regret. Mounds of research led me to the Leonardo Da Vinci school, situated right next to the Duomo in the heart of the city. Not the cheapest option, lessons are priced at a still fairly reasonable £400 for a month’s standard lessons, plus £270 for a month’s accommodation organised through the school and a £47 registration fee. Standard lessons mean a mix of grammar and vocabulary, before launching into conversation, the sole purpose of which is to get you speaking the language. If you’re lucky, you’ll also get taken out on a good few field trips – my most notable one was to a gorgeous little market close by, where I managed to buy myself a bag of apricots conversing in Italian. I have never been so proud.

The teachers refuse to speak in English, forcing you to improve or fall behind. This is incredibly helpful, though the presence of a million Brits, Americans and Swedes isn’t particularly conducive to speaking Italian outside of classes – the best thing you can do, as I did, is to make local friends but spend a large chunk of every afternoon by yourself, wandering the streets, learning your way and finding the best places for chilling out. I spent many an afternoon sitting on in the Piazza della Signoria, writing a daily diary to remind me of every experience before meeting up with my new-found friends in the evening for shots of god-knows-what at the immensely cheesy Fish Pub, our favourite haunt simply for the broken English on the menu and the alcohol levels in the cocktails.

There’s a shop at every turn in Florence selling delicious, light, practically inhalable gelato (a favourite being the Gelateria dei Neri on Via dei Neri), but it’s not just the gelato that Italy does better than the UK. Take the Oil Shoppe, situated on Via San Egidio, a sort of high-class and delicious eatery just down the road from the language school, where shop owner Alberto prepares the most amazing sandwiches in front of your eyes. Get there early, though, for it’s no secret to Florentines, and at lunchtimes the queue can stretch rather a long way down the road. Besides that, checking out some of the local trattorias, even those right by the Duomo, is probably a good idea for those on tight budgets – and believe me, my wallet was light from the start.

If you’re looking for culture on your year out, Florence has it in spades. Museums abound – two of the best are the Galleria degli Uffizi, where you can find paintings by Raphael, Botticelli and Leonardo da Vinci, and the Galleria dell’Accademia, home to Michaelangelo’s David. The beautiful Giardini di Boboli sprawl just above the city, by the Palazzo Pitti, former home of the Medicis, from where you can look down on the giant Duomo. While I was there, outdoor ballet and opera was performed regularly. Watching Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring and Tchaikovsky’s Serenade for Strings being danced in the open air, amidst the flowers and the grandeur of the palace is an experience I will never, ever forget.

Although I’ve forgotten the majority of what I learned since my return to England, I can still hold my own when needs be, and the books are still extant, tucked away in a drawer of my desk, to be resurrected when I next head off to bella Italia. So what if I didn’t build huts for orphans in the middle of the Venezuelan jungle, and who cares if I didn’t ‘find myself’ on a beach in Thailand during my gap year. Sometimes indulgence truly is the best option.

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