Aside from RWAV sights, Florence was notable for windy narrow cobblestone streets, huge crowds, long lines, thousands of beautiful and amazing things to look at, bottles and bottles of Chianti, and gallons and gallons of gelato. Also, argyle socks; all the Italian girls are wearing them.

I remarked late in our visit that nearly every place in Florence seemed designed with the view in mind. Reach a good stopping point, pause and turn around; the rooftops spread out beneath you, the Duomo looms down a long alleyway, or the bridges line up neatly over the Arno.

There were hordes of American tourists. Consider yourself warned if you plan to visit Florence: the season is not over in late October. I don’t know when, if ever, it is. I can’t even imagine what it must be like in June.

We stayed away from the hordes, in an apartment in Santa Croce. I really prefer apartments to hotels: they are about the same price, and though you don’t have a concierge, you have a kitchen, and a lot more space to unwind and relax. You are probably off the beaten track somewhat. (We found our apartment, wher we were very happy, through Craigslist Florence; an ad there linked to a full listing on PerfectPlaces.com.) We stayed home one night and made dinner in the apartment: tortellini we picked up at the market that morning, a local Chianti, and a sampler of expensive chocolates.

The night of our first full day, we went to see the Kronos Quartet at the Teatro Della Pergola. We didn’t know anything about them. It was interesting and enjoyable, but it’s hard to say much more than that. (“They’re like the consummate NPR musicians,” E remarked.) We were both moved by the Mahler piece they played (Die zwei blauen Augen, from Lieder eines Fahrenden Gesellen, if that means anything to you). I also liked the Sigur Ros cover (The Fly Freer), but I like Sigur Ros. They played a discordant piece written expressly for them, some Bollywood music, and an Ethiopian piece … Disappointingly, they played several of their pieces with backing soundtracks. This felt like a cheat; either figure out how to play it with your quartet, or don’t play it.

One of my favorite places in Florence, despite it being one of the most touristy, was the Loggia de Lanzi, just off the Piazza della Signoria, and I returned to it several times. The wide Piazza was always heavily dotted with tour groups, clumps of Americans or Japanese or Germans clustered around a guide. But the Loggia was usually nearly empty, elevated above the crowd.

It was a peaceful place to really study the sculptures, which have been there for centuries. I liked Giambologna’s Rape of the Sabine Women.

E’s favorite was the Rape of Polyxenes. (Yes, lots of rapes in mythology and classical art.) Achilles is carrying the girl off and beating back her parents, and the whirling motion and energy -- culminating in Achilles’ towering strength -- is pretty amazing.

Just outside the Loggia, in front of the Palazzo Vecchio (old palace) is Michaelangelo’s David. Not the original -- that is in the Academia -- but a replica in the exact spot where the original stood. We were satisfied not to see the real thing, but to see how it looked at the time it was installed.

Between the Piazza della Signoria and the Arno is the Uffizi Gallery.

The Uffizi is smallish, as big museums go, but it is crammed with beautiful art. Once again, Jae’s recommendations helped us get a handle on things, have some landmarks to watch for as we moved through the many rooms. Throughout, we were fascinated by the scenes of the Annunciation and also the scenes of Judith and Holofernes -- like Botticelli’s, of Judith and her maid hiking across the countryside, the dutiful maid toting Holofernes’ head in a basket.

The main Botticelli room has the real show-stoppers: The Birth of Venus, Allegory of Spring, an Annunciation scene and various scenes of Mary with the baby Jesus. I, like Jae, was taken with Botticelli’s version of the Annunciation. Gabriel seems ready to spring from the canvas.

After that, let’s see … E liked some enormous Rubens paintings, and a smaller one of a fat drunk Bacchus demanding some maidens fill his goblet with wine … I think I paused to look at some more Judith and Holofornes scenes ... It’s a little hazy. I was feeling the effects of museum fatigue.

The coolest thing we did in Florence was climb to the top of the Duomo’s cupola, which was designed by Brunelleschi.

It’s something like 382 steps to the top, or maybe it’s 482. It’s a lot. The climbing didn’t bother me, nor did the narrow, claustrophobic, stone staircases. (As long as I didn’t think about what would happen if someone had to turn around and go down.) But the heights … yikes. There are two balconies inside the dome. You can just barely see them here.

One is just below the stained-glass windows. This was the worst. We popped out of the staircase and found ourselves on a balcony about 18 inches deep, with a stone railing, looking down into the body of the church. (There is Plexiglass up to about 8 feet but somehow it doesn’t help.) We walked around half the diameter of the dome on that balcony, then re-entered the staircase on the other side.

That balcony was absolutely physically overwhelming. Just stepping onto it and looking into the vast space -- our first view looked right down the entire nave of the huge church -- I felt a strong wave of vertigo and thought for a moment that I might faint. I regret not being able to take my camera out, or even look around, but I was truly incapable of doing so. It was all I could do to shuffle, whimpering pathetically, to the exit at the other side.

Then we went back into the tiny staircases. From that point on, we were climbing up inside the dome. That is, the Duomo is a dome within a dome -- it’s two layers, and the stairs go in between the layers, straight up the dome’s curve to the peak. So while you climb you are sandwiched between two massive slabs of marble.

Yeah, it’s best not to think about it until you’re back on solid ground.

At this point, still reeling from the balcony, I decided I could not go all the way to the top. I said I would wait on the landing. E started without me. But after a moment -- the landing had cleared out, and I didn’t feel so crowded or panicked -- I decided I should do it, could do it. I knew I would always regret it if I didn’t. I kept my eyes on the stairs and my hand on the railing and somehow climbed to the top. I was rewarded with this amazing view ...

… which I was unable to enjoy for the first few minutes, while I sat on a small bench and recovered. E took some pictures with my camera.

I can’t imagine what I was so nervous about!

When we’d worked our way around the circumference -- it was not very big -- we started back down. This time we entered the dome just below the frescoes, above the stained glass, and walked half the diameter along another narrow balcony. Somehow, with the dome closing in over us more like a ceiling, I was a little more at ease. I still couldn’t stand to hang out in the middle of the balcony, but near the exit I could stop and look at the amazing frescoes. They depicted Hell (horrible graphic things happening there), what seemed to be an earthly realm, and heaven. There were demons and devils and angels, and things that were half-man, half-snake. It was easy to see how the old Church could scare you into believing.

Our last full day we went to the Palazzo Pitti, where the Medicis lived. There was one of those paint-the-animal public art events going on.

We just toured the palace’s Boboli Gardens. We were frankly burned out on art and architecture and needed heavy doses of greenery, fresh air, and open spaces. We were not let down.

That is just what I hoped Tuscany would look like -- more scenic than the train ride between the Pisa airport and Florence’s Stazione Santa Maria Novella. It had a hundred different colors of green, and romantic old rusted trucks abandoned in the groves.

More photos of Florence on Flickr.