No Small Wander

One of the things that surprised me about Florence, Italy, was how many people were just…chilling.

There are public spaces where I’m never surprised to see people. Public parks, libraries, the steps outside city monuments—these are spaces that belong to the people. And the people deserve to linger at them.

But there’s a different type of place in in Florence, that fits somewhere between a business and a public space. They’re not quite dedicated spaces for anything where you need to pay (like coffee shops, restaurants, etc).

I’m referring to these spaces as “third spaces”, even though they don’t quite fit the definition of the word. “Third space” is a term I first heard when I was a teenager working at Starbucks.

The idea is: your “first space” is your home. Your “second place” is the place you spend the most time outside your first space—like work for adults or a school for children. A “third space” is a place you choose to be: a coffee shop, a library, a park, etc. (Starbucks wanted to become people’s third space, that’s why they were teaching us.)

So a third space could be a space where spending money is assumed. I won’t lie, living in London, leaving home usually means assuming you’ll spend money. Doesn’t matter if it’s a coffee shop, arcade, museum (donations recommended!), restaurant… Seriously, think of a place where you’re protected from the elements and not expected to reach for your debit card. (Sidenote: what is this doing to our unhoused population? If it costs money whenever you’re seeking shelter, what remedy do you have from bad weather when your pockets are empty?)

This is what impressed me so much about Florence. It could be all of Italy, honestly; I’ve only visited a few Italian cities, and I’d never noticed this before. But there were so many places where people assumed—it seemed, even expected—to be able to sit, linger, and take up space without spending money.

This happened a few places that I didn’t expect. At the Giunti Cinema, the upper level was filled with tables with power outlets and chairs. Students read, studied, caught up; two mothers were chatting with their babies sitting in laps. The movie The Devil Wears Prada played in the background silently. Although the space could have been loud (amphitheatres echo, of course) there was a hush over the space, as if we were in a library. This was in the middle of the day, at a working bookshop. Other than the necessary purchase needed to use the bathroom, the space provided wasn’t making any money.

This was also the case at a café I went to off of the Biblioteca delle Oblate (the Oblate Library). You had to walk through the library and take the elevator to get to the café, which made it feel like a public space, but the café itself was a business. However, the terrace was full of people reading, chatting, and taking pictures of the Duomo (it has a great view!). I couldn’t tell the end of where the private business ended, and the public space began.

The last space where I wasn’t sure if what I was seeing was a business or a public space was the coffee shop at Todo Modo books. Although clearly, people were encouraged to buy something, I saw plenty of people sitting at desks, reading books and working on laptops, without a purchased drink or pastry.

In all of these places, the line between public spaces and private businesses felt blurred. People felt entitled to quiet spaces, and to take up space without apology. I think the presence of these spaces this has a huge impact on young people—everyone from teens to early-20-somethings—and how they experience cities, and travelling within them.

Complaining about the next generation seems to always comes down to criticising behaviour. So many complaints I hear about Gen Z and millennials stem from the fact that everything costs money, and we don’t have any. All the industries that are “dying” because of the next generation not spending money—diamonds, mid-tier restaurants, department stores, weddings, superfluous bedding—can all boil down to not having money. When a cheaper or free alternative exists, it makes sense to opt out of spending. When money isn’t available, it becomes inevitable.

We buy online; we stay home; we connect through our phones more than in-person. Some people say it’s a relic of COVID, but when going out requires a £4.60 tube ride and £25 for a round of drinks (not to mention, dinner), I can see why people are staying home, cutting back, and avoiding businesses that profit as soon as you step through the door.

But that’s why I think these free third spaces are so important to cities. This is especially true when you’re trying to encourage young people as visitors, as tourists or residents. These places—where we can sit, talk, think, or just exist—are so important if you’re a traveller. They’re the spaces where we can reflect on our experiences, linger a little—or just check in with our own mental health. As an anxious traveller, I’ll always appreciate a place where I can slow down, take a pause, and make space to check in with my body. I’m so often rushing from one location to another—a place to chill out is necessary.

Not charging admission to these places makes them accessible to everyone. And accessibility makes cities better for everyone,not just the people who found them inaccessible. It’s like how advocating for a wheelchair section on bus made it easier for parents to ride with strollers. Young people, older people, rich people, poor people—these spaces are for everyone!

I’m not sure if these free spaces are unique to Florence, or if they’re part of the larger Italian culture. But I do know I loved seeing these places. People could stop, rest, relax, bounce babies on knees, catch up with friends, or study—without reaching into their pockets. And don’t we all love that on vacation?

I know I do. Happy travels!