As you head to the main bus station in Florence, it is early morning. The air is cool under the clear blue sky that has not quite obtained its full blush of the day.

Despite the quiet of the streets, you enter into a bar nearby the bus terminal and find it quite packed with locals laughing and chatting, slowly stirring a cappuccino or quickly throwing back their espresso shots.

You edge your way into the bar to order. How can coffee here taste so good?

Heading out of the bar and towards your bus, you alight and prepare yourself for the journey, book in hand. As the bus pulls out of the station, you expect to get a good lot of reading done in the hour and 15 minutes of your journey, but in fact, you are mesmerised, first by the wonderful wandering locals on the wondrous streets of Florence’s historical city centre as they weave their way through the narrow streets overshadowed by the historical buildings.

Soon, the streets widen, more trees appear and you are clearly heading from city to suburbia, then from suburbia to countryside. Giving up on the book, you take in vision after vision of stunning, rolling-hilled countryside. Green trees spear the sky, by now a richer blue, with only the sun to shield itself. Fields bloom yellow with flowers. You catch your own reflection in the window, grinning at the pleasure of such natural beauty before you.

It seems so soon that the bus is stopping and you are alighting into a bustling piazza. Groups of locals sit around cafes, some even sit on ledges around the piazza, all noisily talking. Groups of young girls pretend not to notice that the groups of boys are looking at them. Couples walk hand-in-hand as toddlers run off ahead, squealing with delight of stirring up the pigeons. Old men, who seemingly not so long ago were groups of boys themselves, sit in pairs or groups, sometimes talking, sometimes not.

You wander through the piazza, into narrow streets and out again into wide squares. Each space is lined with stores, some high fashion, some more like traditional ceramic, food and wine stores. Tearing yourself away from idling your way through through store after store, you continue on.

The warming sun dims as streets narrow whilst buildings loom stoically overhead. Some streets bustle and the pace is set by dawdling Sunday-afternoon strollers, other streets are near empty and you stop to gaze as the details on the buildings, appreciating the marks of history of this amazing Tuscan town.

The first stop on your agenda is the Cathedral. Begun in the late 1100s, the outside looks like a Gothic cake of tiered red, green and white marzipan-marble. You enter and for the first time visiting an Italian church, are more amazed by the floor than the walls! Intricately decorated with marble artworks depicting scenes from the bible, you step carefully around the images, awed. When you finally raise your eyes, you find the Cathedral is filled with magnificent statues (including one by Donatello), frescoed walls and an entire room dedicated to the most spectacular books which were once owned by Pius II.

After winding your way down and down through the streets, you see an narrow lane that opens up into a large tilted piazza. This is Piazza del Campo, where each year the famous Sienese Palio horse race is held. Built in the mid-1300s, a stunning fountain sits on the upper slope, the Fonte Gaia (Happy Fountain). A toddler walks up to the fountain, guarded by wrought iron bars, which her little hands grip as she pokes her little face through the bars to watch the water flow. Turning back to her parents, offering her gap-toothed grin, she points and squeals at the swish-swash of the water.

Settled into the base of the piazza is the Palazzo Comunale, the town hall. One can enter into the courtyard for free. Looking up you see the turrets of the palazzo zig-zagging against the perfect blue of the sky. Crouching down to yoga-esque lows, you manage a wonderful photograph that captures all, the turrets making the sky look like a perfectly blue perforated postage stamp.

You line up in the short queue and pay your 6 euro for access into the Torre del Mangia. Completed in the last few years of the 13th century, narrow stairs twirl their way up to the bell tower top. Dizzyingly windy, you feel like a happy child round-and-rounding up the stair, but you feel more your age as you near the top!

As you exit out of the stair well, into the open air, you forget everything as you find yourself surrounded by the most amazing vistas you have ever seen! Spectacular landscapes are gobbled up by your camera as you snap snap at each panorama. You stop for minutes at a time to gaze out and meditate over the stunning spaces. From here, you cannot help but feel there are no problems in the world, everything is just wonderful.

You manage to peel yourself away from the tower, guided by a higher power… hunger! You wind your way down, down, down and out of the tower, heading back out into the Piazza. Ringed with restaurants and coffee bars, you peruse a few menus before choosing one with arched bricked ceilings, small tables cramped within, crowded with diners happily feasting on plate after plate of exquisite cuisine.

Idling away an hour or more, the food is just amazing. Accompanied by a glass of Chianti Classico, life is good. 

Happily fed and watered, you pay your bill and leave, heading for the next stop: the Gelateria! You take a leisurely long time to select the perfect combination of delicious, creamy flavours. And it is worth the time! Whilst this is possibly the most delicious gelato of your life, quantifying this does require further tastings in other regions, and you promise yourself to make it a priority to continue this important study in the future.

Wandering out of the piazza, from the downward edge, you step on out of the city centre, and after some minutes of walking, the streets fatten and host more trees, and you realise you are leaving the city centre. Continuing on, you pass corner stores, news agencies, laundromats, all the normal signs of suburban life, but somehow more charming, more… more Tuscan.

After a good 40 minutes of pacing down the street, by now a main road, you spy a narrow track that beckons you. Continuing down the lane, you find yourself on a country dirt road, surrounded by olive groves, quaint Tuscan houses nestled within. One house has a stunning, ancient white pedestal bathtub seated in the garden, with a rusty bicycle leaned up against it, just as it was placed possibly 40 years ago and from where it has not moved since. You click a postcard-worthy photo of this yard, and continue your wandering. A tiny moss-covered church sits at an intersection, possibly spacious enough for 10 people at once to enter into its confines. Further on, a large house has an entryway to its front door where hundreds of cherry tomatoes hang in bunches overhead, waiting to dry.

The blue sky is dimming as the sun sets behind just one of the most spectacular Tuscan hills that form the views here. You decide to return to the city before it gets too dark. Walking back into Siena, by now late in the afternoon, the crowds have changed. People finishing work or preparing for dinner, sip wine at the bars, their crossed legs in linen trousers and fine leather footwear tapping away contentedly.

Resisting the tempation to join them, and even to stay, arranging your days around long lunches and pre-dinner drinks, you re-trace your steps, up and up through the winding streets until you find yourself back into the original piazza. Buses arrive and depart, and on one of them, you are gone from the wonderful Siena, vowing to return.

Coming to Italy and not trying pizza is like swimming without getting wet.

But finding a great ‘pizzeria’ can be tricky in a limited amount of time to explore a city. There are pizzerias lining most of the famous piazzas, where you will eat great pizza in a wonderful atmosphere enjoying the ambiance of the wondrous Florence city centre.

But locating the more typical pizzerias where the locals are hiding and dining is a delight in itself - to be surrounded by tables of Italian families, all speaking at once and yet somehow able to actually listen at the same time, to see the couples interacting - discerning the new couples and not so new, trying to spot the first dates, the romantic dinners, the apology meals. Then there are the birthday parties, the Friday night out, the because-it-is-Thursday-lunchtime-and-we-have-been-coming-here-every-Thursday-lunchtime-for-30-years lunches… maybe you could even pass some time wondering where all the wives are whilst all the men are gathered to pass an afternoon together laughing and drinking wine and eating pizza, and chatting with the staff loudly and raucously as they have done for decades, or perhaps you will get the next generations dining at the table near-by. These days, the girls are more likely to come along too….or even to be forming their own gaggle of gorgeous and giggly girls.

For this kind of pizza experience, Florence offers Le Campane pizzeria on Borgo La Croce 87r, not too far from Piazza Beccaria. At the entrance, there are people waiting for their take-home orders, often accompanied by a dog on a leash excited by the delicious aromas emanating from the pizza ovens. Heading towards the back of the restaurant, you come to a large back room, packed with locals enjoying their favourite slice. The menu is all in Italian, and there are not even descriptions of the pizzas. A personal recommendation would be the Margarita of a thin pizza crust covered with delicious cheese and a tomato sauce that is like the intense taste of Tuscan sunshine epitomised, or for the more daring, opt for the ‘Sister Perversion’ - a cross between a folded pizza (’Calzone’) and a standard flat pizza, topped with artichokes, ham, cheese and olives… perfect with the house wine and some good company.

Just around the corner, Il Pizzaiolo on Via de’ Macci 113 r, just a few streets over from the Santa Croce piazza, is something a little more special as far as a pizzeria goes. If you don’t have a reservation, you may be laughed at for even suggesting you would like a table! But if you go early, from around 7pm-8pm, you may have a chance of getting in without a booking. Once the locals start arriving, chances dwindle. Aside from being one of the top pizzerias in Florence, the mixed entree platter (Antipasto Misto) is worth the visit alone! A platter for two centred with a parcel of buffalo mozzarella that is opened to contain a liquidy-soft cheese that your taste buds will never forget. The coccoli (in Italian, this means ‘cuddles’ - a small ball of fried and salted pizza dough) and hams all bundled together along with other morsels of pleasure are better than, well, other really fantastic things in life!

Near Porto Prato you will find the Funiculì pizzeria which serves their pizzas on bases a little higher than the standard thin crusts. Dining is in an enormous room with hundreds of tables (so almost always you can get in without a reservation!), there are also car parks available without entering the city streets that are restricted entry. The atmosphere is fun and relaxed, with lots of locals enjoying a combination of the finest pleasures in life - great company, great food and Tuscan wine!

On the other side of the Arno river, on Lungharno Ferrucci, you will find a Pizzeria Restaurant La Greppia. Out of the historical city centre, you can dine on fantastic pizza with a side of wonderful views from the terrace overlooking the splendid river.

Il Caffe Italiano, Via Condotta 12, has a maze of small dining rooms each with a different but always spectacular ambiance. For the pizza, there is no menu, just 3 or so standard pizzas that are always on offer and always delicious! One of the other fantastic things about this pizzeria is that is just a few doors down from the famous Vivolli gelateria where you can get the best, home-made gelato for dessert!

And if you really just want fantastic pizza without having to leave the house, there is always Princes Pizzeria that will bring fantastic pizza direct to you! Just call (+39) 055 268000.

Besides knowing where to go, some other tips about eating pizza in Italy would be that pizza is often considered as an entree that is then followed by a meat main, with a side of vegetables. Generally, people will order one pizza per person, with the sizes being on average, that of a standard dinner plate. Italians do not usually fold their pizza, and regulations about use of cutlery or hands, change according to which state you are in. Asking for the pizza to be made with Mozzarella di Buffula (Buffalo Mozzarella) is a good idea also. If it is available, the pizzas are just amazing. The best pizzas have few toppings, which allows the flavours of each ingredient to really be appreciated.

And don’t forget to eat your pizza served with some wonderful Tuscan wine, and save room for the life-changing desserts Tuscany is famous for!

Catching the train from Florence to Assisi gives the gift of 3 or so hours to see the wondrous Italian countryside. Streams of water dance across pebbled riverbeds, scurrying through the trees that stand guard from the rivers’ edge.

Houses litter the countryside, in various states of evolution from the youth of construction, the middle-ages of habitation through to the silent and beautiful abandoned ruins crumbling into old age in the midst of a field, slowly returning to the earth.

Cattle wander aimlessly through pastures, their attention focused on the lush green grass, whilst flowers bloom outwards from the soil, drunk on the sunshine that falls on their pretty heads.

Arriving in Assisi, the train station is small and despite the fact that there are not many people on the platforms, or in the station itself, the station’s coffee shop is buzzing with the cheerful chatter of locals awaiting their next caffeine hit, the hiss of the coffee machine, the clatter of dishes.

Stepping out of the station, into a piazza, there are cars and taxis coming and going. A wide straight roads brushes past the front of the station, porting the traffic and its human contents to various destinations. But straight ahead, oh what a sight.

A road runs from the mouth of the station to a large mountain bursting from the earth. Covered in white buildings like crazy rows of teeth, the nimbus clouds that give the sky a calming Sunday feel break to let spears of sunlight photosynthesise the historical centre of Assisi.

From the station, it is a short drive to the historical centre. Roads swirl around the mountain, narrowing to impassable passages. Bars and restaurants peep out from underground and hotels sit on the edges of the mountain so that morning coffees are sweetened with the spectacular views over the countryside.

You’re in Assisi to see churches and walk through the streets that are dedicated to the city’s most famous citizen, St. Francis. Born here in 1182, you can see his clothes and shoes, as well as his final resting spot in the Basilica di San Francesco. Here is also the sight of some artworks that revolutionised the idea of perspective in art, in their representation of Jesus as a human figure and in the way in which classes and races were depicted together. Bringing to the poor illiterate population the stories of the bible, to be here now and see the colours, the architecture depicted, and the evolution of perspective brings its own perspective to the history with which you are surrounded here.   

From this church, the city streets wind upwards and upwards, corkscrewing around the mountain edge. Along the way, one dilly dallies through the narrow cobble-stoned streets which open into spacious piazzas, in each of which crouches one magnificent church after another. The Basillica di Santa Chiara was built in the 13th century, and features a white and pink stone facade that seems almost edible. The Chiesa Nuova (literally, ‘new church’) takes it name by the fact that is 400 years younger than that of Santa Chiara. Once a temple, the church of Tempio di Minerva is another stop along the way to the peak of the city.

Restaurants and coffee shops centrifuge around the streets also. Stopping for a lazy lunch, saving just enough room for an afternoon cup of steaming liquid chocolate that sticks to the lips in a delicious kiss. Shortbread biscuits crumble into the mouth and give the afternoon a delightful sugar-buzz as you work your way, onwards and upwards, through Assisi. 

In between the visits to the churches, the streets burst with quaint little stores selling handmade products as they have done for centuries. Wooden spoons and hand-printed aprons, ceramics brushed with images of the stunning undulating hills in the surrounds, wines squeezed from the vineyards that stroke the countryside in parallel lines, and food stuffs that have been made this way since before grandma’s grandma was a girl.

Stopping at one of the piazzas with views over the edge of the city, the sun slowly slides down the face of the sky, falling into the bed of the mountains in the distance. On its way, it smears the horizon in an array of pinks and oranges that one can only attempt to capture with a camera, but that will always be in the mind’s eye for being so spectacular.

The icing on the cake of Assisi is the Rocca Maggiore - a fortress that sits like a final tier on the city. Walking up here just as the nighttime falls like black chiffon over buildings below, the white bricks of the fortress are lit by spotlights and the silence of the surrounds hums rhythmically. Looking out over the city and beyond is a moment of beauty and tranquility. The stars twinkle joyfully in the black sky, there is not a sound to be heard from the city below.

In fact, returning to the city streets, one finds a quiet town, the last of the shops closing, restaurant windows framing views of diners happy and full on the wondrous food and lulled into sleepy satisfaction by the melatonin-rich red wine.

Spying a local and asking for advice on a nice bar, you may be lucky enough to wander down a narrow cobbled street to find a small night spot emanating a yellow light that defrosts the cool blue of the nighttime. Entering within, the lively jazz and the chitter-chatter of the still-spirited locals is as intoxicating as the wine.

But exiting the bar, the streets are again silent and deserted. The walk back to the hotel is buoyed by the lingering jazz tune that accompanies you home, swishing away inside your eardrums, and spilling out onto the crisp linen of your soft pillow as you doze off to sleep, tired and content.