Florence

The cathedral that defines the skyline, topped by the largest brick dome ever raised — and still a mystery how. Climb the 463 steps between the double shells to the lantern for the view every postcard is taken from. Book a timed slot well ahead.

Five metres of marble that stops everyone in the room — the most famous sculpture on earth, carved by a 26-year-old. The unfinished Slaves lining the hall are almost as good. Book ahead; the walk-up queue is brutal.

The greatest collection of Renaissance painting anywhere — Botticelli's Birth of Venus and Primavera, Leonardo, Raphael, Caravaggio, all in the Medici's own gallery. Overwhelming; pick a few rooms, book the first slot, and don't try to see it all.

The medieval bridge lined with goldsmiths' shops that has survived every flood and war since 1345 — the one bridge the retreating army wouldn't blow up. Crowded by day, gorgeous at dusk from the bridge just upstream.

The terrace above the south bank with the whole city laid out below — the dome, the tower, the river and the hills behind. Walk up through the rose garden for golden hour; the crowd is worth it. Even better a little higher at San Miniato.

The city's open-air living room and its fortress town hall — a free sculpture gallery in the Loggia dei Lanzi, a copy of David where the original stood, and the frescoed halls and tower of the Palazzo to climb inside.

The Medici's vast riverside palace, now packed with Raphaels and Titians, opening onto the Boboli — a hillside of terraced gardens, grottoes and fountains. The gardens alone are the best green escape in the city on a hot day.

The great Franciscan church where Florence buries its own — Michelangelo, Galileo and Machiavelli all lie here, under Giotto frescoes and Brunelleschi's serene chapel. The most moving interior in the city, on its liveliest square.

The reason to be hungry in Florence — a colossal T-bone from Chianina cattle, seared over embers, served rare and by weight for the table to share. Book a proper trattoria, order it for two, and don't ask for it well done.

The cast-iron food hall by San Lorenzo — a lampredotto sandwich and a glass of red downstairs at ground level, then a whole upper floor of Tuscan food stalls open late. The leather stalls of the street market wrap around outside.

The sculpture museum everyone skips and shouldn't — Donatello's bronze David, Michelangelo's Bacchus and the panels Ghiberti and Brunelleschi made competing for the Baptistery doors, in a medieval palace with no crowds.

The craftsmen's side of the river — gilders, cobblers and framers still working behind open doors, Brunelleschi's plainest, most perfect church on Piazza Santo Spirito, and the square's bars for the evening. The most Florentine wander in Florence.

Gelato was more or less invented here, and the good places still make it fresh each morning — muted colours, covered tubs, seasonal flavours. Skip the neon mountains near the Duomo; the queue of locals tells you which counter to trust.

The Dominicans' church by the station, with a green-and-white marble front that's a Renaissance masterpiece in itself and Masaccio's Trinity inside — the painting that first nailed perspective. Quiet, and often had almost to yourself.

The local evening ritual — a Negroni (a Florentine invention) or a spritz with a spread of snacks thrown in, at the wine bars around the Sant'Ambrogio market before dinner. Where the city actually goes out, well away from the coach crowds.