Inside Florence’s machine

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Things poke out from behind

The flavour of a city comes from the depths of its streets. In this case, very deep streets. For this reason, Florence is the archetypal Italian city, the one everyone thinks of. Darting left, you can escape the throng, hide in another tunnel of darkness, finding your own peace.

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Just add marble…

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Glassed for time

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A loggia… and a dog

Puppetman Senior and Mother are in Florence for a two month sojourn. It is, of course, the perfect time to visit family so Cutey Bum and I couldn’t resist. Arriving at Pisa airport late in the night, the joy quickly dissipates in the form of a 90 minute bus ride to Florence. Finally we make it to the Puppets’ residence in a non-touristy part of the city. We dash out for midnight snacks and beer at a corner bar down the road. I slip my Italy hat on.

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The view. (note: fullstop).

 

 

This morning, it’s off to explore. Of course you can be trapped by the tight streets and the glamour architecture though, I think, one of the joys of an Italian city is escaping to the hills. The view coupled with landscaped gardens gets me every time.

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The Belvedere

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Ponte Vecchio, a visual treat. And a bank to relax on.

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If you could stuff another jewel shop into the Ponte Vecchio it would crush under its own weight. Brides-to-be love this place. As do the tourists. We rush off in search of food.

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A galleria.

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The Accademia where a certain statue of a very well-carved man is kept

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The Duomo is the centre of the city and show-offish. Shouting look at my technique, we do – oh how we do keep looking. Tis impressive down to its very last slab of fine green marble. I love it here.

Puppetman-at-large

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