I am not one to criticise, but the guide did know her stuff, but it made for a slow tour, and with just 6 hours in the city, I was aching to head off and take pictures alone. We looked into two wonderful churches. They would have been stunning, if it had not been for the damage caused by a serious flood in 1966, which damaged many of the works of art in many of the buildings. We saw tombs for Leonardo, and Michelangelo, Goethe, and Machiavelli. All of which stunning, but the one to Galileo, which was carved with the stars. To be so close to history was really awe inspiring. 
After ending up at the doma, the cathedral, we parted company with our guide at a copy of the statue of Michael. The original is in a museum, much too precious to be left outside. The area around the cathedral is renound as a haunt for pick pockets. And so elaborate precautions were needed to be made. Which, it has to say, took something of the shine away from the city. Gangs of what were quite obviously foreigners hung around the popular places, looking for unguarded bags and wallets. In most public places, people had set up towels of cardboard boxes selling what would best be described as tat. That they sold only about four different types of goods, and the fact there were hundreds of them all over the city was disappointing. That they took up many of the best vantage points, as a photographer was annoying.
I headed off to the Ponte Vecchio, and the coolness of the river. Only to find just about every tourist had the same idea as I. The bridge is similar to the old London Bridge, in that it has houses, or rather did, and now shops. Lots of shops. And pigeons. Looking at my map, I could see there were some ornamental gardens a short walk away, and so I headed off through the throngs in the narrow streets in what I hoped was the right direction.The Boboli gardens go all the way up the valley side, and at was a tough walk in the heat of midday to get up there. There was a fountain, as ever. But at the top, the city had preserved an idealised Tuscan valley, with olive groves, vines and the ever-present Cyprus trees. All mixed in with terracotta-tiled villages and ruined castles. Very picturesque, and unexpected in a city.
Afterwards, after what was probably the most expensive salad I have ever had, I wandered the streets, and the street markets, people watching. At times it was a worrying place, with more gangs hanging around, apparently looking for victims. I found my way to the Church of San Lorenzo, and the Medici Chapels. I think by this time, I was getting immune to works of architectural wonder. All very wonderful, but feeling more like art galleries than places of worship, though they can be both, I guess?
It was some relief to get away from the crowds, and find a back street bar, cool with even colder beer. I know drinking whilst hot and tired was not a good idea, but I did feel better. So, it was a relief to rendezvous with the bus, and that we all made it back in time was also good. And so, we said goodbye to Florence, and I promised myself to go back someday, if only to the Uffizi Gallery to see all the wonders of renaissance art.
Sunday was supposed to be a quiet day; we headed off to the town of Montalcino. Another hilltop, fortified town, with imposing, if not stunning views across the Tuscan countryside. We discovered that Sundays was the day for cycle racing and vintage car runs. The result was that all the roads to a small spar we were to visit were closed and we headed off to the Monastery of Sant’Antimo. I can’t tell how old it was, but it was overshadowed by a massive Cyprus tree, which itself must have been hundreds of years old. Inside, through the open doors, we could hear the service, lots of Latin chanting form the monks. We were free to either go inside, or stay outside. I did the latter, and was intrigued to see a monk being shown the wonders of modern digital photography. The monastery was overshadowed by another town on a hill, with a winding road, lined with more Cyprus trees, leading up to it.
When the service, or Mass as I guess it was, was over, we boarded the bus to head off to Montalcino. As usual, the tour guide knew of a cheap place, and you know the rest. So once there, we found that the cycle race ended there as well. We fought our way through the crowds of cyclists sweating in their tight fitting Lycra to the taverna she knew. Around the town, they grow a special wine, where they only allow the grapes on the lower limbs of the vines to grow. Thus the grapes are sweeter than usual, and the wine stronger. It is called Brunello, and is wonderful; needless to say, we sought out a wine shop as soon as we could. The views from this town were really special, and I think I did probably take a few too many pictures. It was good to wander away from the tourist areas, to where the houses are, and see how they live in a town with such narrow streets. Lunch as ever, was wonderful, a salad, a pasta dish. Very light, but tasty. I did a bit of exploring on my own, and to my surprise the town was bigger than I thought, and I managed to be late for the bus back. It was not to be the last time I would mess up a trip back to the hotel. But, more of that later. On my walk, I did find a nice wine shop, and treated myself to a bottle of the Brunello wine.
Our last full day in Tuscany, was a trip to Sienna. A trip of just over an hour, once again through the Tuscan countryside, all ploughed fields, vines and olive groves, with above us, hilltop towns looking down. Words cannot do justice to this place, and I know mine do not.
Anyway, Sienna is another Tuscan city, hundreds of years old, with the centre apparently unchanged sine the days of Da Vinci. Once again, a guide met us at the bus, and took us through the historic old town, describing to us the buildings and the stories behind them. At the centre of Sienna is Piazza Del Campo, a huge piazza, around which, twice a year, horse races take place, with the honour of boroughs of the city at stake. Around the piazza, are many tall houses and palaces.
In between, are narrow alleyways, linking with the narrow streets behind. We again visited churches. And for the cathedral, I was all churched out, and being thirsty, retired to a café for a double expresso.
As it turned out, I missed the wonder of renaissance gothic architecture, inside was all black and white marble, without doubt, I was told, the best church we visited. Or rather THEY visited. Oh well, I went exploring again, and took many photos. I found a quiet taverna to have lunch, and had a nice meal of gnocchi and onion soup, and more local wine. It was crowded, but not as bad as Florence. But, by about three, I had had enough of wandering, and went to the meeting place, and people watched for an hour. People of apparently every nation on Earth getting off buses, meeting up with guides, and the now ubiquitous digital camera snapping away.
The last night at the hotel in Tuscany was a quiet affair. Most of the other opting for an early night, as we had an early start next day. To our surprise, the bar bill was much less than we thought; we put it down to the moody bar tender getting back at the owners. 
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