After Montepulciano, we boarded the bus and drove to Siena, which had too many hills to manage with only wine and cheese on our stomachs. However, I got through the tour and located a coffee shop. At this point, I was so caffeine deprived that my eye wouldn't stop twitching. Don't get hooked on coffee, kids, you'll look insane 90% of the time. I decided to take a chance and order iced coffee. Europeans have some strange construct about iced drinks in that they don't exist. Beverages are typically served either piping hot or at an uncomfortably strange room temperature. If you find refrigerated water, you've hit the lotto.
I knew that ordering iced coffee was going to insult the locals, so I braced myself for the worst. I walked in and pretended I was Italian (the skin tone helps me out), but then all hell broke loose because my American started to show when I opened my mouth. I'm only fluent in Italian curse words. Full of false hope with a twitching eyeball I said, "Ciao, espresso with uh, ice and milk?" The sassy Italian Barista looked at me like she had just smelled a fart and said: "No. I make coffee ice cream." So I tried again, "no, espresso with cold milk and a cup of ice?" I didn't know I was a comedian. The sassy Italian barista started to laugh and gathered her co-workers to share the moment. Glad I could serve as entertainment. I think they're still laughing. Humiliation aside, I got my iced latte! It was pure euphoria, my first iced coffee beverage in two and a half weeks. I'm quite proud, even if I was the village idiot for a day.
After I was laughed out of Siena, we traveled further north to Florence. Our one star hotel was a strange little place, located on the third floor of probably the world's oldest hotel building. Side note: why would you advertise that your hotel is one star? While you're at it, hang a sign that says "the hotel equivalent of camping." There was a three-star hotel on the second floor but no, we were going to rough it one-star style. Our particular hotel room was in a remote corner of the fourth floor, had no air conditioning, no hot water, no water pressure, and a dusty television from 1993 that hung directly over my bed. We tried to open up the window for relief but our hotel room faced a bunch of walls. So between the humidity and the long trek to our room, we decided that we were in Guam. Everyone else was in Florence, and we were in Guam. We tried to be optimistic because our hotel was in the center of Florence and right in the action. But we were also right next to a bell tower that decided to ring incredibly loudly whenever it felt like. It was like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. The church bells decided to ring at 3:34, 4:12, 5:40, 6:15. I don't know what time zone we were even in. Oh wait, no, we were in Guam, so that's what time zone we were in.
After spending one night in actual hell, we moved to a different room with air conditioning and more water pressure. I've never been more happy to be cold in my entire life. My inner New Englander was pleased. Despite our hotel tragedies, I really did enjoy Florence. I talked my way into a discounted leather bag, went shopping, dodged gypsies, drank wine that had just been picked from the vine, and ate homemade good pasta. Congratulations, Italians, you win at carbohydrates.
On Saturday we visited the Uffizi Gallery in Florence which housed so many famous paintings that my head was spinning. Sorry, Metropolitan Museum of Art, but my heart currently belongs to Uffizi. Once more, my inner history nerd came out so I hung onto every word of our tour guide and took my time staring at the paintings. Unfortunately, the galleries incredibly crowded, so I wish I could've had the entire museum to myself for at least an hour. However, I'm not a Medici, so I don't think I have that luxury.
As I was leaving the Uffizi, tragedy struck once more. I was walking on the narrow sidewalk of a narrow road and saw a pigeon walking in the street. Everything was serene and calm. I decided to be introspective and think, "wow, Florence is great." Then, a taxi came zooming down the narrow street and the pigeon flipped out, smacked right into the back of the knee really hard, and knocked me down onto the cobblestone. I said a bunch of four-letter anglo-saxon words while a pack of Asian tourists took pictures. I was the village idiot once more. I had flashbacks to freshman year at Providence when I inadvertently kicked a squirrel in front of two basketball D1's. I'm such a graceful human being.
With a pigeon-shaped black and blue on my shin, we continued to tour Florence and contributed to the success of the Italian economy. Then on Sunday morning, we left for Assisi, which had amazing views of the Italian countryside because the town is situated on top of a mountain. I got to know that mountain quite well. Assisi has probably been existence for as long as it has because of the terrain. Talk about a fantastic defense mechanism: if anyone ever tried to invade Assisi, they would probably decide "nope I'm not climbing that" and leave. We got lost in the hills of Assisi and couldn't find our tour guide so Google Maps sent us climbing about 39 cliffs to the top of the mountain. Assisi made Guzman Hill look like a field. Never have my legs been more sore in my entire life. Thank you, St. Francis of Assisi for blessing my leg day. If the views hadn't been so incredible, I would've cried. However, the view from the top of the mountain was worth the sweat and almost tears.
Now we're back in Rome, and it's good to be home. So far, no pigeons have attacked me and the air conditioning is working well in my room. I'm about to start cleaning my room because my mom is visiting tomorrow! (Hi mom!) I'm going to pretend that yes, my room has always been this neat.
Ciao,
Sue :)
Tuscany!
Wine makes the best presents.
Friar in Firenze
Assisi, post hike.
What a wonderful journey you are on. Say hi to mom!
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