Duomo

One of my priorities for this Florentine leg of my holiday was to climb the cupola of the Duomo. I’ve done this before, but it was over 25 years ago, and I’d forgotten most of it, apart from the general fact that it was awesome.

I had to book ahead – in a city as tourist-blighted as Florence, everything worth doing has to be booked ahead – and pay around $27 for the privilege. But once I’d done this, all I had to do was appear at 8.30am, go through the usual security measures, then start climbing the many, many stairs.

The first set of stairs, which repetitively switch back on themselves a dozen times, emerge suddenly at the base of the Duomo’s massive dome, and it’s a vertiginous shock to go from a cramped stairwell into a vast, echoing space with nothing between you and an eight storey plummet into an inlaid marble floor but a small balustrade. From there, you edge halfway around the periphery, pausing only to gawp at the astonishing frescoes on the ceiling, or because your forward passage is being blocked by other tourists gawping at the astonishing frescoes on the ceiling.

Then it’s up a tight stone spiral staircase, then up a staggered series of stairs that become increasingly steep and cramped as the curve of the dome deepens.

Then suddenly you pop out of the top, and you appreciate why so many tourists are willing to pay $27 for this activity. The whole city of Florence is laid out before you, a haphazard churning sea of red tile roofs punctuated by the massive marble or stone islands of the city’s great churches and museums.

Unfortunately, once you’ve spent a while at the top of the cupola, it’s time to head back down. Poor Benny’s leg’s are only an inch long, so it was a lot to ask of him.