4.3.2012 Train from Bologna
Bologna to Prato Centrale
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| Nichole's mom "birdwatching" |
So I ask myself..."Self, how do you find yourself so amused on your birthday when all you're doing is riding public transportation?" Well, Nichole's mom is mostly to credit. She fed me dark chocolate with hazlenuts, then pulled out her binoculars to look at a lady at the Grizanna train stop. Or maybe it was when she started singing, "On top of spaghetti." Or maybe it's just fun to see a responsible mom cut loose a bit. I bet my mama would be having fun too.
Sam's signal to Kayla to point out discreetly that there is a "man with satchel" was rather entertaining too.
Simple minds, simple pleasures.
4.3.2012 Quotes from Birthday Dinner in Tavarnelle
"Did you say sherbay?" (Nichole said sherbert.)
"I may not be smart at some stuff, but some stuff, I know what's up," says Nichole's mom at dinner.
4.4.2012 The Uffizi, Florence
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| The Uffizi, Florence |
The Galleria degli Uffizi has a foreign painting section, which sparked a memory from yesterday. The painting is Pieter Paul Ruben's Bacchanalia, c. 1635-1640. Oil on canvas.
What, praytell, does this inspire? Well, the little kid in the bottom right urinating onto a barrel reminded me that there was a dusty 30-something year-old man at the Bologna Centrale train station who washed his face in the public water foundain and then proceeded to urinate into it, flashing lack of modesty mid-day. I did a double take and looked longer than I should have, curious that the angle of the stream was rather ladylike... The mustache sealed the deal. It was a dude. And I kept walking slack-jawed to the train platform.
Oh Europe. Such a wildcard. Maybe that's just public transit etiquette in general.
4.4.2012 Hostel in Tavarnelle, Tuscany
FLORENCE!
Today we explored the city, Firenze!
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| Nichole. She's on a bus. |
After birthday dinner last night in Tavarnelle, we woke up early to take our SITA bus back into Florence. Riding in a fine drizzle through the misty Tuscan wine country is a rather relaxing start to any day.
Found some flax-laden bread at the local grocery and fashioned a pear and brie sandwich to take with me on the bus. Felt pretty classy eating it.
When we arrived in town for our museum day, we made a stop at the tourist information desk to confirm that we were a ten-minute walk from the Galeria degli Uffizi. Saw the fake David outside the piazza while we figured out where to pick up our tickets.
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| Sam, Kayla & Nichole at the Duomo |
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| Low blood sugar opportunity, at the Uffizi |
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| Stevey-boy's #1 recommendation |
1. Grom's home-made gelato, a town favorite. Got espresso and extra dark chocolate (which had little chocolate nibs in it; super tasty.) Forgot to get a picture of it before I ate it. It was that good! It was by the Duomo.
2. Much closer to the Academia, which is where we saw the David, we ate more amazing gelato. Got myself some almond-flavored deliciousness, which I enjoyed very much. The tour guide book is so wonderful at these little holes in the wall.
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| Our good friend's #2 recommendation |
One of the most interesting instruments to me was the keyed guitar, perhaps the original keyitar. It was invented to let ladies play without risking the damage of their precious little fingernails.
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| SITA bus tickets. |
At the risk of a PG-13 connotation, an anatomical curiosity seemed to be another highlight of the afternoon, more at the Uffizi than at the Academia. Being inquisitive and yet somewhat modest, YouTube confirmed mine, Kayla and Nichole's academic suspicions. Oh art.
A totally unexpected highlight of Firenze was finding out there was a very nice post office at the end of the Uffizi bookstore. I picked up some stamps for the forty postcards I plan to finish writing.
Then, we made our way back to the bus station to grab the 6:35pm bus towards Tavarnelle. Costs 3.30 euro each way. For a hour's worth of transportation, sounds fine to me.
Ostello del Chianti was reasonably busy when we got back from Florence. A 12-year-old German boy has been monopolyzing the computer watching YouTube videos and playing online games indefinitely, unless you ask him to get off. Pretty rude, honestly, for a shared computer. I asked him three times yesterday to let me know how long he was planning to use the internet, if he could finish up, etc. No such luck. Oh, those crazy kids.
4.5.2012 Tuscan Sunshine
Tavarnelle
Once we got back to town from the slightly nauseating bus ride, we walked towards Sylvia (the hostel owner's) second favorite place to eat: Ristorante Borgo Antico. It was closed.
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| Tavarnelle, the Tuscany Town |
Half of the world was amidst a low blood sugar opportunity, and being ~8:30pm, we walked back up the steep hill towards the hostel. We saw a super cute cat, which lightened the mood, only to remember sixty seconds later that people were getting fiesty.
A very nice older man took the liberty of escorting us to the Viola Club, which was where we bought our bus tickets earlier that day. He went inside to see if it was even still open. Apparently they don't always serve dinner. He waved us in, and we crossed the street hoping we were going to be able to find something tasty.
Paulo setup a table for the six of us and warned us immediately that he spoke no English.
The club had the following: two slot machine games, five young-ish men, one of whom turns out to work there and knows enough English to help translate. Also, there was a very nice grandpa and a three-quarters empty dessert case.
Paolo brought over a two foot by one and a half foot piece of pink poster board creased down the center, hand written with permanent marker showing the daily specials and their cost. Admitting once more that he cannot speak English, he proceeded to explain all of the menu items well enough for us to order, in English, of course.
Paolo assured us we were eating at an authentic Italian bistro. He spent twenty minutes with us as we decided what to order, coaching us through the nuances of the daily specials. During this time he presented to us the only other table, full of men who Paolo introduced to us, as if they were seeking our approval. One was a doctor who graduated with the highest marks from the University of Florence. We clapped for him.
When Paolo asked us if we wanted wine and we politely declined, he served us complimentary wine, insisting we had to at least have a taste to compliment the entree. We enjoyed the gift, ate huge amounts of food. It's really interesting, but they don't offer to let you take leftovers home in Italy. So not only do you feel guilty if you have to throw food away, they give you the look if you don't finish the whole plate. They ask what is wrong, as if all human guts are meant to eat a pound of pasta per sitting. I helped finish like, three people's dinners. I'm such a good person.
Sam, Kayla and Nichole's mom enjoyed dinner and headed back to the hostel. Audrey, Nichole and I hung out for a bit. We played cards after taking ten minutes to get up the nerve to ask if they had a deck we could borrow. We played a whole round of one of my favorite 2+ player games, ninety-eight, before we realized that the deck was void of all eights, nines and tens. Like idiots we thought for about twenty minutes that maybe they just don't play with eights, nines and tens in Italy. We were experiencing such a neat part of the culture. Maybe they were secretly from Ecuador playing cuarenta. Unlikely.
Paolo sent over a plate of complimentary desserts, and the family, enjoying the supper lull, seemed intrigued that females might socialize and play cards without male supervision. For better or worse, we are visitors in quite a patriarchal society. When it was time to go, we paid our forty euro tab, which is impressively cheap for what six of us enjoyed.
Back at the hostel, I got the chance to play ping pong with Saulro (no idea how to spell that): quite kind at the start and surprisingly sassy once you got him going. He tried desperately to decipher where we were from and how long we were staying near Firenze, but the language barrier turned out to be pretty frustrating for him. It's pretty tricky to explain that Audrey and Nichole are sisters, but one of them is living in the Czech Republic, while Nichole and I are friends living and working in California. But we're all visiting for a few more days.
We must have played ping pong for an hour, trying to teach each other conversational vocabulary in one another's language the whole time. At one point in the freestyle circut we pulled out casual racquetball policy and played the ball off the walls, the dining hall doors, the ceiling, counting multiple bounces and spiking as fair game. I laughed from the belly. My face hurt from smiling. It was one of so many highlights of the trip.
Tuscan Rains: moments of liquid happiness
Woke up after a random night of dreams. Might need to lay off the gelato if I'm dreaming about working out with Wilf, the owner of BodyTek, where I work out back in Big Bear. (Random dream about Looe Key and polka dots were strange too.)
Walked down to the Thursday market to buy some local blood oranges. So sweet and delicious.
Headed back to the Viola Club for lunch. Same giant posterboard menu, same wonderful Paolo with the exciting addition of Maricio, the cutie who spoke English for us the night before.
Drank the most delicious one euro caffe con latte in Italy, to date. Towards the end of lunch the sky opened up, and it actually started hailing on us!
After a Bankomart stop in the residual sprinkles, I waddled back to Ostello del Chianti to change into running tights and my soft shell, following some brief journaling.
Cue the soundtrack. Probably the most magical of all the strolls through Italy, I walked in the intermittent Tuscan rain from Tavarnelle, down the cobblestone path to Barberino. With the rolling green hills in the distance, and delicate blossoms along the path, I enjoyed the day to myself.
Huge thunderclaps interrupted the majesty of wine country. I was pretty sure I wouldn't be struck by lightening, but girl paid attention in her wilderness first responder class. I started pleasantly jogging with a purpose in the direction of home about as soon as my chest cavity started shaking from the rumble. It's been a while since I've felt the urge of thunder and lightning!
Sprinkles turned into downpour. My soft shell conceded to the storm, and I enjoyed being drenched by the warm rain. I walked past Nichole's mom and sister, who were waiting at the bus stop. I handed off my wet camera after a photo shoot with some snails that showed themselves in the rain.
I walked along the cobblestone, jacket clinging to my arms, happy as a clam. The cool, damp smell of earthworms fermented the air. It was so relaxing to listen to Paper Bird, nurse the blister I rubbed open on the back of my heel and enjoy being outside.
The club had the following: two slot machine games, five young-ish men, one of whom turns out to work there and knows enough English to help translate. Also, there was a very nice grandpa and a three-quarters empty dessert case.
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| Our menu at the Viola Club |
Paolo assured us we were eating at an authentic Italian bistro. He spent twenty minutes with us as we decided what to order, coaching us through the nuances of the daily specials. During this time he presented to us the only other table, full of men who Paolo introduced to us, as if they were seeking our approval. One was a doctor who graduated with the highest marks from the University of Florence. We clapped for him.
When Paolo asked us if we wanted wine and we politely declined, he served us complimentary wine, insisting we had to at least have a taste to compliment the entree. We enjoyed the gift, ate huge amounts of food. It's really interesting, but they don't offer to let you take leftovers home in Italy. So not only do you feel guilty if you have to throw food away, they give you the look if you don't finish the whole plate. They ask what is wrong, as if all human guts are meant to eat a pound of pasta per sitting. I helped finish like, three people's dinners. I'm such a good person.
 |
| Ragu alla bolognese is delicious. |
Paolo sent over a plate of complimentary desserts, and the family, enjoying the supper lull, seemed intrigued that females might socialize and play cards without male supervision. For better or worse, we are visitors in quite a patriarchal society. When it was time to go, we paid our forty euro tab, which is impressively cheap for what six of us enjoyed.
Back at the hostel, I got the chance to play ping pong with Saulro (no idea how to spell that): quite kind at the start and surprisingly sassy once you got him going. He tried desperately to decipher where we were from and how long we were staying near Firenze, but the language barrier turned out to be pretty frustrating for him. It's pretty tricky to explain that Audrey and Nichole are sisters, but one of them is living in the Czech Republic, while Nichole and I are friends living and working in California. But we're all visiting for a few more days.
We must have played ping pong for an hour, trying to teach each other conversational vocabulary in one another's language the whole time. At one point in the freestyle circut we pulled out casual racquetball policy and played the ball off the walls, the dining hall doors, the ceiling, counting multiple bounces and spiking as fair game. I laughed from the belly. My face hurt from smiling. It was one of so many highlights of the trip.
Tuscan Rains: moments of liquid happiness
 |
| Tasty caffe con latte. |
Walked down to the Thursday market to buy some local blood oranges. So sweet and delicious.
Headed back to the Viola Club for lunch. Same giant posterboard menu, same wonderful Paolo with the exciting addition of Maricio, the cutie who spoke English for us the night before.
Drank the most delicious one euro caffe con latte in Italy, to date. Towards the end of lunch the sky opened up, and it actually started hailing on us!
After a Bankomart stop in the residual sprinkles, I waddled back to Ostello del Chianti to change into running tights and my soft shell, following some brief journaling.
 |
| 2km walking path to Barberino |
Cue the soundtrack. Probably the most magical of all the strolls through Italy, I walked in the intermittent Tuscan rain from Tavarnelle, down the cobblestone path to Barberino. With the rolling green hills in the distance, and delicate blossoms along the path, I enjoyed the day to myself.
Huge thunderclaps interrupted the majesty of wine country. I was pretty sure I wouldn't be struck by lightening, but girl paid attention in her wilderness first responder class. I started pleasantly jogging with a purpose in the direction of home about as soon as my chest cavity started shaking from the rumble. It's been a while since I've felt the urge of thunder and lightning!
Sprinkles turned into downpour. My soft shell conceded to the storm, and I enjoyed being drenched by the warm rain. I walked past Nichole's mom and sister, who were waiting at the bus stop. I handed off my wet camera after a photo shoot with some snails that showed themselves in the rain.
A video short: Snail in Hail
I walked along the cobblestone, jacket clinging to my arms, happy as a clam. The cool, damp smell of earthworms fermented the air. It was so relaxing to listen to Paper Bird, nurse the blister I rubbed open on the back of my heel and enjoy being outside.
Back at Ostello del Chianti, I met up with Nichole, Sam and Kayla to go hang out with our friends at the Viola Club. Brought some Rummikub to spice up the warm beverage party, and Nichole gave Paolo his first one dollar bill to spend when he goes to Las Vegas next month. Note to self: Paolo said that espresso with milk is called a cafe macchiato.
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| Tuscan Vineyards, Barberino |
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