It was drizzling when I awoke at 6:15 in the morning to prepare for a 7:30 train ride to Florence, and the thought of lugging a suitcase for fifteen minutes up and down cobblestone streets through nagging precipitation didn't appeal too much in the early morning gray. But I couldn't control the weather, so I merely hoped the rain would stop by the time I left.

Luck was on my side. By the time I left the hostel, it was overcast and dreary, but relatively dry. I met Andrea and Jill at the coffee shop/bakery/bar next to my hostel, and we set off on our way to Rome Termini.

Surprisingly, the Italy Rail train left on time--a shocker considering the reputation of Italian transportation authorities. During the hour and a half ride, I learned how to play Gin (the card game) and was promptly destroyed by Andrea five consecutive times before I finally roared back with a vengeance on the sixth game, then proceeded to lose a majority of the remaining games. Oh well, anything to pass the time.

It was a little bit after nine o'clock when we arrived in Florence at Santa Maria Novella train station, named after a famous church that stood right next to it.

It took fifteen very long minutes to reach our hostel, which was further than we expected. The bad news when we arrived: our rooms weren't ready.  The good news: the private suites were in an apartment much closer to the train station, so not only would the three of us be able to stay in the same room, we'd be much closer to everything else in the city! This was certainly welcome news as we plopped down on the sofas to rest. After a bit of a break to regain energy, we set off for a walking tour of Florence!

It started off comically, with a sex shop we passed by. Well, actually, correction: it wasn't a sex shop, it was a sexy shop. Although the "no minors under 18 allowed in" was enough to clue us in on what was going on. I thought this was a hilarious sign and made sure to take a photo. The girls were amused by my amusement. I made a mental note to send this photo to a friend who I knew would get a kick out of it, once I returned to the States.

Our first target was the Duomo--the famous cathedral situated in the heart of the city--an architectural gem that was my primary reason for visiting Florence. Our stroll towards that destination, however, took us through a sort of market area filled with vendors selling shirts, scarves, belts, jewelry, and other souvenirs and memorabilia. Temporary stalls lined with hanging windcatchers, vivid watercolors, sparkling glassware, and other novelty items spread down both sides of the street, inviting a multitude of local and visiting shoppers to venture a closer look. Intrigued, we stopped and walked around, interested to see if we could find any bargains.

The detour proved fruitful. Jill was able to get a beautiful turquoise cashmere scarf for seven euros, and I was able to knock off ten euro from the original 25 euro price for a really nice belt.  Although somehow, I felt like I could have driven the price even lower if I had been more insistent, because the final agreement seem to come much too easily on his end. Nevertheless, happy with my purchase, I continued on toward the Duomo (in clear view over the surrounding buildings from the marketplace), eagerly anticipating Brunelleschi's masterpiece... until I was interrupted by a hawker of counterfeit watches and ended up making one of the most randomly impulsive purchase I've ever done.

It was curiosity that attracted me above all else. The man, a dark African holding several watches in his hand, was openly trying to attract any potential customers. I stopped to see what type they were, and he quickly began trying to reel me in.

"How much?" I asked, knowing full well they were fake, but interested in their price nonetheless.

"How much you give me?" came the response.

I shook my head and shrugged, playing the part of the ignorant tourist.

"Okay, 45 euro," came his initial offer.

That was blatantly overpriced, and I indicated as much with a curt reply.

"Tropo caro." I didn't have that much, I added, and started to walk away.

"Wait, wait, wait," he called back eagerly. "Okay, how much you have?"

I told him thirty, which quickly became the new asking price.

"But I have to eat too," I added. "How about twenty?"

He seemed to hesitate for a moment before nodding an assent.

"You my first customer. I give you twenty."

I asked to see the watch first. He carefully explained that it was a "beautiful" watch and assured me it was real. It was even kinetically powered--no battery necessary! Just wear it!

It took a few moments of inspection before I decided--what the hell, even if this is still a little overpriced, it would make a great joke gift for my brother. So with the transaction agreed upon and the cash swapped for the merchandise, I had officially bought an authentic fake Rolex.

Sure it was fake, but it's the thought that counts!

Eventually, we made our way to the Duomo, highlight of the city. Approaching from the west side, we walked past the baptistry and came upon the front entrance first, with the tall bell tower just off to the side. The facade was richly decorated with bands of faded red and dark hunter green set on a smooth, white stone surface. Intricate reliefs surrounded window openings and indentations, and plenty of saintly statues stood guard over the plaza in their personal cloisters, high above.

I let out a sigh of happiness. The Duomo was as magnificent as I had expected. This was wonderful.

We casually strolled around the square, looking at souvenir stands and admiring the paintings that local artists had on display and for sale on the street. Everything was so cozy... so picturesque... it felt so European! It was a case of reality matching expectations, and I was jubilant over the experience.

The most prominent feature of the Duomo is, of course, the dome. For a thousand years, the Pantheon had reigned supreme with the world's largest spanning free standing dome. And then Brunelleschi devised an ingenious hyperbolic double arching structure that supported itself during construction, and the result was the single most noticeable feature in the Florencian skyline. From countless places around the city, the brick-adorned dome looms above the rooflines, serving as a constant marker for orientation. And up close, it's even more impressive--a terra cotta whale in the sea of medieval architecture.

Perhaps the only downer was that once we walked around to the eastern side of the church, we saw that one section of the dome was covered with scaffolding.

"Hey Jill, guess what's under refurbishment!" I called.

"This too???" she groaned. "Italy has GOT to get its rehab schedules better aligned!"

Still, even a little roof maintenance couldn't dampen our awe for the place, and after spending some time gazing up at the beauty of the facade and the architectural elements, we decided to leave actual entrance for another day and continue exploring the city.

Earlier in the day, I had remarked that Florence reminded me an awful lot of Bordeaux, with its mix of big city and small town feel in the same community. Both cities had medieval character still preserved, with tight, winding streets and buildings that formed walls along both sides. Both possessed that quaint charm that encouraged exploration, but both also had the occasional appearance of a large boulevard or street to indicate more recent growth and development. With numerous churches and rich character, both Florence and Bordeaux were fabulous places to simply walk around and explore.

Except that as we explored Florence more, I began to realize that as pleasant as Bordeaux may be, Florence was still about 6500 times better.

The main difference was cleanliness. Bordeaux had its medieval charm, but it also seemed to have its medieval tidiness--which is to say that it wasn't very tidy at all. Despite all of its urbanistically spatial complexities and crannies (yes, I'm aware that reeked of architecture nerdiness), Bordeaux still felt like a sort of dreary place to live in. Adam Gopnik once described it as "the place Paris goes to surrender," and I can see what he meant. Bordeaux is a nice enough town, but there's an underlining sort of uncleanliness that pervades its city environment.

Florence, however, feels fresh, clean, and invigorating, both to the eyes and to the psyche. The mix of stony, castle architecture, plastered apartments, Baroque elegance, and surrounding verdance make for a vitalizing beauty. I felt wondrously charmed here, whereas in Bordeaux, I had merely felt quaint.

Eventually, our walk took us to the Arno River, which effectively divides Florence into its northern and southern halves, and gazed upon the famous Ponte Vecchio, a true anomaly among bridges. From the base of the river, it looks like any other typical European bridge, with stonework rising up to form arches that support the bridge. But then, protruding buildings appear, seemingly hanging off the side of the structure, and an arched arcade runs along the length of the span, ending with clay tile roofing at the very top. It's more of an extended building with openings punched out of it than a bridge, and it's pedestrian path is home to a variety of stores, mostly dedicated to the sale of shimmering jewelry, but it's certainly a beautiful sight from any angle.

After admiring the riverfront view for a few minutes, the three of us crossed the bridge, stopping to look at a few of the stores and gaze yearningly at gold and gems we'd never be able to afford. Turning left after crossing the bridge, we traced an eastward route along the river towards Michaelangelo Plaza, an elevated plateau that offered amazing, sweeping views of the entire city of Florence. After a quick detour at a supermarket to buy some bread, prosciutto, and cheese for a picnic lunch and a decently taxing hike up a series of slanting outdoor stairs and ramps, we made it to the top and swept our eyes upon the vast, panoramic reward that greeted our tired selves.

Once again, a tiring climb was rewarded by a feast for the eyes. The vista across Florence was, indeed, quite striking, and we were able to pick out most of the city's icons even without the helpful illustrative plaque nearby.

We sat down to enjoy our lunch while taking in the sights. From our view, it was more apparent than before just how prominent the Duomo stood in the Florencian cityscape. The top of the cupola marked the highest point of any structure in the city, and the overall girth of the dome itself made the entire building burst out of the tiled texture of the surrounding museums, apartments, shops, and even other castles and churches. In front of a backdrop of green, rolling mountains fading away in the distance, the Duomo looked more impressive than ever.

We returned to our hostel after (a relatively late) lunch and ended up taking the rest of the afternoon off. Our four days in Rome had been relatively full, and we were eager to rest up before what would surely be four more busy days in Florence and around the Tuscan countryside. A free computer with internet access at the apartment afforded us the chance to make some quick day trip plans, and after consulting upcoming weather forecasts and weighing the strengths of some of the places we wanted to visit, we decided that we would push our planned second day in Florence back to Wednesday and do day trips the following day, Tuesday, and Thursday.

And just what would we be starting our day trip series with? A trek to Pisa for the Leaning Tower, and then an exploration of Cinque Terre, fabled paradise of five villages along the northwestern Italian coast. Tomorrow would prove to be quite the adventuresome day!

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For more photos of Florence, check out my Facebook photo albums:
FLORENCE