Onwards to Florence

It was with some regret that we escaped Cinque Terra. It was really the most delightful place to be stranded. After days of lying in the sun, shouldering our packs seemed a little more onerous than before. Nevertheless, we were already a day behind schedule, we needed to get to Florence.

Now, it had been rather warm in Cinque Terra. We're talking about a country that doesn't seem to acknowledge the doona – and with good reason, even the thin linen sheet feels a bit much most nights. The heat of Florence was a whole lot more apparent. You could feel it radiating up from the pavement. Perhaps it was something to do with the subconscious awareness that there was no longer any gorgeous blue water close at hand.

Florence is the kind of city where you simply can't escape history. There seems to be very little that is new, and ever corner one turns reveals a church, a tower, a gatehouse. On our very first evening, a short stroll was quite abruptly brought to a halt by the most extravagant structure we've yet stumbled across, the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore, Despite being a 'low' city, with nothing seeming to rise more than five or six stories, it's incredible how a cathedral can sneak up on you. From a distance you see the dome, but it's often without any warning that you will stumble on the building itself, up close and personal.

There is without a doubt too much to do in Florence. This difficulty is compounded by the oppressive afternoon heat, which renders even us seasoned Australians sluggish and unwilling to trek about town. Again, we lament the fact that there's no swimming to be had (not entirely correct, there is a pool in the basement of our hostel). The river is not inviting, a worrisome green. James saw an 'otter' swimming gleefully through the floating debris. This raised a sequence of pressing questions: Are there any otters in Italy? Are you sure it was an otter? Have you considered the possibility that it may have been a dog-sized rat?

Update: Yes, it was likely that this was a dog sized rat, actually a species of 'semi aquatic rodent' called Nutria. It also seems that there are other people on the internet who've had exactly the same question.

All of it's other charms aside, I must admit that my favorite part of Florence was the San Lorenzo Markets, and the Mercato Centrale. There's nothing truly authentic about these markets, it does feel a little staged and shamelessly touristy. That aside, roaming the packed streets full of little wooden stalls was an experience. Visually it's a treat, vibrant and colorful. The vendors chattered away to each other in Italian, no doubt laughing at the hapless tourists pouring out the contents of their moneybelts on belts, bags and jewelery. Browsing is difficult, let your gaze linger on an item for more than a fraction of a moment, and the vendor will have teleported to your side with said item (even if it had previously been hanging 8 feet above the ground) and is asking whether you want to pay with cash or card. In between the licensed stalls, bands of enterprising African gentlemen peddle designer watches, designer sunglasses and designer handbags. I would want for a moment to cast any aspersions on the authenticity of their goods. I'll simply make the observation that their cardboard stands could be packed up very quickly, and that they became incredibly mobile in the event that a policeman came a-wandering down the market alleys.

There's a strange sort of repetition in the markets. There must be ten or more stretches of road, packed with stalls on either side. Yet often two, three or four stalls in a row would be selling indistinguishable wares. Pick any store, you could probably find ten more just like it. Variety was not the name of the game (if this game had a name, it would be 'Sell The Tourists Some Leather'), it was definitely an exercise in quantity. An effective technique really. You could only walk for so long before feeling your resistance against impulse purchases waning. Eventually I caved in, and bought myself the most impressively purple satchel bag. The vendor was most approving, and told me that it was a very good color for me. I'm sure he says that to all his customers, but in this case, I'm inclined to think he's onto something.