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“This is a great moment, when you see, however distant, the goal of your wandering. The thing which has been living in your imagination suddenly becomes a part of the tangible world. It matters not how many ranges, rivers or parching dusty ways may be between you: it is yours now forever.” — Dame Freya Stark (1893 -1993) British explorer and writer.

The only trying part of our train journey from Rome to Florence, in a business class “quiet” car, was hoisting our suitcases overhead. Even so, we were wanderers, and our goal was in sight: Florence. Now and again, forever ours.

We stayed in a private home leased by a best friend who had a goal of her own. Like her “Rome with Kids,” she was doing the leg work for the creation of an indispensable guide to Florence.

We were a happy threesome: when she needed to write, we toured. When she toured, we tagged along.

First stop: The only of its kind Duomo, the symbol of Florence. We’d been before; but needed a refresher, so we paid for an audio tour and thoughtfully made our way through this magnificent structure. Seeing Paulo Uccello’s “Sir John Harkwood” was like meeting an old friend, but we’d forgotten the artist’s enormous 24 hour single-handed clock, operating since 1443. Standing under Brunelleschi’s dome we had a moment: the depiction of the Last Judgment (1568-1579) includes “an exhausted Mother Earth; the Four Seasons, disinterested.”

Much of the art created for the Duomo is now housed nearby, in the Museo del Duomo. Worth a stop. Everything displayed is treasure, including Ghiberti’s “Gates of Paradise” doors and a Michelangelo “Pieta,” unfinished. What a treat to stand, untrammeled, beside this master’s work: it’s not behind glass, it’s not mobbed by camera-clacking tourists.

Another old friend revisited: the Uffizi Gallery. This time we arranged, via the Internet, for timed tickets. (A must, easy to do.) Roaming these halls put me back at Columbia University, in James Beck’s Italian Renaissance Painting class: here, one of three panels from Uccello’s “Battle of San Romano,” there, Botticelli’s luminous “Primavera” and “Birth of Venus.”

An I-pad guided tour of the Brancacci Chapel is wondrous.

Museum hopping at night? We loved that option at the Pallazo Vecchio, whose gigantic rooms and exquisite furnishings left me dazzled.

We hiked: across the Arno, past the city ramparts, up to the cemetry, around and down to Piazzale Michelangiolo, which offers a panoramic view of Florence. Another day we strolled the Boboli Gardens: allées, roses, lemon trees. Vast and lovely.

Take a day trip to Fiesole for its Roman ruins, Etruscan finds, and muted views. Buying a city bus ticket is Byzantine, but the ride there and back was a curvy thrill.

Shopping? A resounding yes. We bought leather jackets, bags, and wallets at Scuola del Cuoio, housed within Santa Croce monastery since the 1930’s, established to provide orphans a useful trade. Workshops are visible; salesmen charming and helpful. Also: poppy platters at Giotto Ceramiche, lotions and potions at Officina de Santa Maria Novella (truly, the world’s most beautiful pharmacy) paper goods and pocket squares.

We ate and drank, memorably: Brown Sugar Lounge for cocktails, a family style meal at Ristorante Il Latini, exquisite food at the fashionably hip L’Osteria di Giovanni.

Grazie Mille, J.M. We’ll be back!