Smells, Sights & Men in Tights: Perugia, Umbria

The aroma is of a robust Pecorino, with distinctive undertones of tobacco, milk chocolate, and Versace Eros. Try to replicate this olfactory fusion anywhere else and you'd induce nausea. But, along Perugia's ancient passageways, it is simply sublime.

As I saunter up tightly packed flights of cobbled steps and back down art-swashed, stony corridors, I find myself inhaling deeply, desperate to fill my airways with more. The elements waver in and out passing coffee bars, food stalls and perfumeries. Sadly I've just missed October's annual chocolate festival; but there is still no shortage of places to find the city's signature hazelnut Baci ("kisses").

Ducking under a small archway off Piazza IV Novembre into a residential pocket, I can hear the clangs of pots and pans. The trail of Pecorino intensifies, and is cushioned by warm bread and vegetables sautéing in olive oil, escaping through small vents in the stone. I picture multi-generational families packed around small dining tables, tucking leisurely into home-cooked Mediterranean feasts, talking and laughing about nothing in particular.

The city's architectural jigsaw is remarkably composed. Countless tiny residences are compacted neatly into the rigid, ancient structures; laundry hangs suspended between windows and door frames. Streets bending barely a few feet wide still manage to effortlessly swallow a steady stream of Fiat Pandas, Italy's most popular car for several years running.

A group of university students congregate under the Etruscan Arch before heading off down the hill together, chatting gleefully and clutching their ringbinders. These walls have listened to centuries – even millennia – worth of scandals and secrets. 

A hawker for nice views, I stride up a flight of steps – which are ever so slightly too widely spaced for comfort – to the Porta Sole viewpoint, the remains of a mighty military fortress built for the Abbot of Monmaggiore in 1373. I lose myself staring out at the strata of ambers and terracottas, medieval walls and turrets, against the verdant, gently rugged Umbrian hills. The fauna here is yet to resemble much sign of autumn.

It's humorous passing locals in thick coats. In true British fashion, I strip down to a T-shirt to prevent myself from overheating in the 20ºc October sunshine. Not only are the locals in coats, but as I emerge through a different passageway back onto Piazza IV Novembre, there's a small medieval reenactment taking place outside the Palazzo dei Priori. Some men in tights and elaborate suede coats cruise through the crowd; others are belted with swords and wooden bows, yelling something indescribable. This is nothing on the full-scale two-day enactment that takes place in June each year, but it's certainly enough to turn a few heads.

Some heads, though, aren't turned. I watch as, amidst a smattering of tourists with cameras standing bemused, many just stride on by. This melody of ancient and modern – and everything in between – exists here in seamless synchronicity. For locals, the men in tights is just business as usual.