Firenze and the Machine.

We set off for Florence with a couple of life-lessons under our belts, namely: maps are important, insect repellent is essential and biglietti means tickets in Italian (actually, Charlotte knew that one already). After some mock-confusion at Pisa train station ("Isn't Firenze a centaur?") we climbed aboard a distinctly compartment-less carriage (disappointment abound) and sped through the verdant Tuscan countryside. An hour later we arrived at Santa Maria Novella station and set about finding a bus and working out the bus ticket system. After staring at the ticket punching machine for the longest time a fellow passenger lent over and explained using hand signals that we should buy our tickets from the driver.

Our hostel - the '7 Santi' - is a recently converted convent and we have spent a lot of time scaring ourselves with elaborate stories about ghost nuns roaming the sealed-off second floor. Harry's favourite thing to do is chase us up the stairs past the closed door, which isn't cool. When we arrived we were given the key to a four-bed dormitory and spent some time establishing who our roommate was (we decided German and male from the looks of his book). Since then we have spent a great deal of time subconsciously avoiding him (example: last night when I heard his key in the door I switched off my bedside light and threw the guidebook I was reading on to the floor. I honestly don't know why.)

We took the bus back into the city centre and I instantly fell in love with Florence when I discovered a shop selling old cameras and pipes opposite the station and a photo booth just round the corner. We walked past the Duomo and along to the Ponte Vecchio, before deciding to attempt the 'crush' of the Galleria degli Uffizi. Yes indeed. Both guidebooks promised huge queues, my auntie promised huge queues and wikipedia went as far as to predict waiting times of up to five hours, but when we got there we found nobody waiting whatsoever. It was odd, but we weren't complaining as we whizzed around the beautiful gallery and took in the famous Renaissance art (the Birth of Venus by Botticelli, the Annunciation by da Vinci, etc.) It's a little worrying how much my feet hurt by the end of our second day! In the evening we ate at the hostel, which produced a wonderful set menu. We sat outside eating pasta and watched the hostel staff fight a losing battle with the television aerial as much as we watched the fuzzy football match they were trying to rectify.

Today I woke up early, because it was too hot to sleep in our room sans air conditioning. I wonder how the nuns survived in their heavy black habits? We went into Florence after breakfast and made our way to the Duomo where there was a queue to join and hundreds of spiral stairs to climb. Halfway up, the stairs opened out onto a mezzanine, which overlooked the marble floor far below and the painted dome high above. The balcony was safely encased behind a glass barrier, but it still felt right to cling to the wall as we walked along it (yet on the roof I had no problem leaning over the railing with my camera in hand. Paradox, no?) After lunch, which consisted of bread and cheese on the steps of a church, Charlotte and I went to see Michelangelo's David at the Galleria Accademia, while Harry - silly boy that he is - went off to wander the streets of Florence, because he didn't want to pay €12 entry fee. In actual fact it was €5 for students and Harry missed out on a wonderfully cool gallery and a fantastic sculpture. Alternatively, Charlotte and I spent a lot of time discussing David's muscles and taking sneaky pictures of his bum, so you could say that he didn't miss out on very much at all.

Our plans for this evening are reliant on Harry's careful guidebook research; so, pizza at a guidebook approved restaurant and sunset from a guidebook approved bridge. Right now though I have a Slovenian hostel to book before our allocated internet time expires!