James Joyce

My mother is of Florentine stock, and boy do I love Florence. It has everything, and has everything in a jazzy, quintessentially Italian way. It has the Uffizi with its masterpieces, it has the Duomo with its amazing architecture, and it has James Joyce with its chill atmosphere and cadre of expats. Of these, James Joyce is the place in Florence I have spent the most time and maybe like the most. Perhaps the best thing about James Joyce for me is that it’s a little bit off the beaten path. While central Florence is gorgeous, it does get crowded and touristy, and sometimes the long stroll to James Joyce is just what the doctor ordered. Once there, the place is roomy and cozy and damned comfortable, full of books and with plenty of booze and plenty of places to sit. So there’s the first double-edged sword: James Joyce is a bit of a hike to get to, but it rewards you with a pleasant place to sip a drink. The second double-edged sword is all about the clientele. While there are plenty of locals who frequent James Joyce, its traditional English pub style layout and ambience make it a magnate for anglophones. Just as sure as you can meet an Italian at James Joyce, so too can you meet a Brit or an American. And while you might feel like that takes away from your Florentine experience, don’t let it: James Joyce is a great place to meet people. To have a few beers, and to meet people.

Some Italians come here too, so its not just tourists though its mostly tourists. This is a nice place outside of central Florence to meet up. Its a very relaxed pub right next to the river and its nice for having a pint with a friend or drinking before a night out on this side of the Arno. The bookstore is also nice especially once you run out of books coz you can pick up English ones right here. Its also cheap for Florence and its nice to grab a pint and sit in one of the corners and talk about literature. Its what we do here.

All study abroads and expats, James Joyce was our it’s-five-o’clock-somewhere watering hole. Grabbing a pint at the bar, we would proceed to the barrels outside to people-watch to our hearts’ content. Other times, when the wifi at our flat was down (which happened often-this is still Italy, no matter how many American universities start study abroad programs here), we would go into the dark inside to open up our laptops and type up papers—still with our pints. The crowd is friendly and there is none of the Italian-versus-foreigners tension I found at many other bars in Florence.