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.