Mark's Blog: Florence & Tuscany

Frolicking in the Tuscan vineyards

On the Sunday we flew from Gatwick to Pisa and took the train to Florence, staying in the heart of the old city. The state museums are closed on Mondays, which meant we could enjoy a relatively tourist-light day of exploration. It did mean we couldn't get to the Uffizi (tickets have to be bought a day or so in advance), but given the huge queues even at the 'reserved ticket' entrance when it reopened on the Tuesday, this was no bad thing. Instead, we went on a day trip in to Tuscany to sample some of the beautiful countryside - and the chianti. Having not been to Florence before, I am so glad we went; definitely the highlight of the Italian part of our trip, and probably featuring the best Italian meal I've ever had at Antica Trattoria "da Tito"dal 1913. This place, away from the main tourist sites, was totally rammed and we were very lucky to get in without a booking (we still had to queue for half an hour) - but it was so worth it! Rare steak with porcini mushrooms and a truffle cheese gnocchi. OMG this stuff should be sold on the streets in place of illegal drugs, it's that good.

a Florentine enjoys an espresso

The Arno river

Outside the Uffizi gallery

not the real thing - a copy of Michaelangelo's 'David' stands outside the Uffizi

Roman god, and a statue

main hall within the Pallazo Vecchio, home of the Medici family during the Renaissance

Awesome cheesecake!

somebody's eyes were too big for their stomach

The Duomo (Florence Cathedral)

(that steak and mushrooms dish)

Street value: $1m a kilo

One of the highlights of the trip was sadly not captured on camera. The climb to the roof of the Duomo is not for the claustrophobic - it's a series of very old, cramped, dingy stone staircases, devoid of natural light, that are often single file. On a warm day, packed with overweight and loud American tourists (tautology?) it would try the patience of the Pope. On the way down we had the fortune of following a particularly large, sweaty middle-aged American man - fortunate because he blazed a path in front of us, making the decent easier. At a particularly narrow section of the stairs we encountered a group of people ascending, who had no choice but to paste themselves to the stone wall/ceiling to allow us to squeeze past. As our American bulldozer bored through the tunnel ('staircase' is a bit generous at this point) he brushed (smeared, squashed, rolled - I'm not sure if there is a verb to describe this) past a particularly precious Japanese girl, who felt so violated that she was left in his wake clutching desperately at her glasses, eyes closed in terror, wailing loudly at what was probably the most traumatic experience of her life. To his credit, the fat, sweaty American didn't take offence at mine and Gill's uncontrollable laughter for the rest of the descent.