Jumping out of bed at an unseasonably late hour, I set out to explore the city while the sun was still up and got a face full of rain as soon as I stepped outside. Luckily it cleared up fast and I was off roaming the city, dry, before long.
I went inside the Santa Maria di Fiore cathedral once more and this time noticed the giant clock on the wall with arrow hands towards the year in roman decimals. How cool! (At first I thought it was a Harry Potter style clock with hands pointing towards different indicators of where people were. Eg. Pope - McDonalds).
I walked for an embarrassing length of time in an attempt to find an ancient theatre with no luck other than finding the weekly homeless congregation. I was able to find the other cathedral di Coste which was also stunning. Unfortunately it wasn't possible to get inside (and I later saw a book with pictures of the inside and it was beautiful!) so I made do with finding a bench in the sun to admire the outside.
This soon turned to becoming increasingly amused by a group of Asians (purely descriptive, non racist adjective) who were obsessed with two children of an American couple. The two young girls, probably aged around 2 and 6, were in the square playing around with a soccer ball and chasing seagulls and the Asian contingent could not stop staring. This soon progressed to taking numerous photos of the girls playing and at one stage appeared like a full blown photo shoot. At one stage they moved onto another nearby child who also obliged the photo taking (probably because she was young and yet unaware of the phenomenon of 'creepy') before going back to the two girls. The parents were aware of what was happening and seemed genuinely stunned and mesmerized by the cultural gap resulting in their children being photographed by complete unknowns.
Leaving the bizarre developments in racial trust to play out behind me, I headed for the piazzaza Michael Angelo. Half way there and I realised it was a wee bit out of the town in the opposite direction I was heading and I decided to abort that plan and continue along the river towards the heart of the town. (Update: Big Mistake! Looking through the Florence guide book later and skimming through the pictures of the view from the piazzaza and it is beautiful! Note to self, consult guide books before navigating through new city.)
Walking back along the river, the bright sunshine cascading off the yellow hued buildings lining the water, it was easy to see the appeal of the city for upcoming artists and writers in the early days. In this same way it made me nostalgic for Paris and the similarities of two cities made it clear why they were, and are, both adored by the creative's.
Finding my way towards the centre and the bustle of tourists that plague the inner areas, I roamed through the jagged walkways, managing to keep an eye on the rocky pavement underfoot while ogling the overflowing of goods in the markets which I regretfully couldn't afford to buy (space-wise. A 65 litre pack definitely puts a stop to any frivolous shopping impulsions.)
I was able to get home early enough to beat the mad rushes for the washing machines and dryers (apparently not all travellers lack cleanliness. My fellow roommate would attest. I get that you've come from Bali and it's a long distance, but seriously Mr Finland, even Indonesia has showers.) I am now able to wear fresh socks again, and 9 euro lighter.
Back to Milan tomorrow for hopefully a quick bit of sight seeing before a rudely early wake up call to catch a flight to Budapest!
On a side note, I now have no idea of what day it is.
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