Just like the haunting frescoes by Giotto that adorn the innards of the city’s Scrovegni Chapel, Padua is difficult to forget. It strikes the traveller with an unbridled bout of culture like few cities in Northern Italy, albeit one that’s a world apart from the usual Etruscan-Roman rigmarole.

Just like its near neighbour on the Adriatic to the east, Padua boomed during the Middle Ages, when as a city state unto itself, it vied for control of Veneto with the powers of Venice and Verona. And just like Venice, Padua came out of it all graced with ambitious wonders, none of which are more striking than the mighty Saint Anthony Cathedral, a magnet for pilgrims and photo-hungry folk alike.

But this charming town of cascading flower baskets and the flowing Brenta River is indelibly looking to the future these days, moving on determinedly from that dark period of Mussolini mania. Padua tour guides are often quick to champion its youthful vibrancy derived from Italy’s second oldest university, cutting-edge museum scene bolstered by the quirky Belzoni, and the throbbing mass of markets and al fresco bars around Piazza delle Erbe and Piazza dei Signori.