Day 10

Note: I’m posting this over the cell network, but it is expensive, so I won’t be able to upload some pictures of the latter part of the day until I get to wireless again. 

Forgot to mention this yesterday:
When we hopped back on the train after getting off at the wrong stop, we boarded a different car. This one had a little man on it that decided he would start singing and talking to nobody in particular… badly and off-key.  

As we were leaving the car, we overheard two British guys talking to each other. One said, “Did he have a cup on him?” The other replied, “No, no, no, he didn’t.”

We are in the gorgeous and picturesque rolling hills of Tuscany for four nights. Last night was our first. Our little B&NB (bed and no breakfast) room is beautiful, and the weather is fabulous. All of my laundry that I did last night was perfectly dry by this morning. There is no air conditioning, but who needs it here?

We are at a little vineyard in the country. Like chickens in the back yard country. Which crow at 5:00a. Really. 

Last night an ambulance went rolling by with siren blaring. The fun part is that there are dogs around here. When an ambulanza goes by at midnight, all of the dogs start a-barking. After it has passed, other dogs hear the ones barking at the ambulance, and bark at them. So on and so forth… with open windows. You are in for a good 5-minute canine concerto. 

Speaking of the ambulanza and the medical system here, wow. Ambulances here have windows that open in the back because they aren’t air conditioned. One that I saw inside looked like some of the equipment hasn’t been updated since 1980ish. Paramedics/EMTs (or the people who work on the ambulances) routinely smoke in the trucks, and never seem to be in too much of a hurry.

One of Rome’s (admittedly self-billed) “premier” hospitals looked like it might as well have had a graveyard in the back, because you are about as likely to be killed by the building collapsing as the medicine practiced there. 

America’s health care is expensive, but, for the most part, it is top-notch. 

Moral of the story? Don’t have a heart attack in Italy.

We walked around San Gimignano today. It’s a medieval city that originally had 72 protective towers, 14 of which still stand. Now, it’s a well-oiled tourist trap. Not completely, but in its walls are a lot of shops, ristorantes, and gelaterias.

We are in olive and wine country. So, when I saw olive-topped pizza in San Gimignano, I had to give it a shot, because two of my favorite things are olives and pizza. I was third in line  Right in front of me the first person, some French $&@?, purchased BOTH of the two remaining slices. Irritated, I decided to go with cheese since there were four slices, even though I really wanted olive.

I contemplated laying for him in a doorway to get that pizza, but then, the next person in line bought ALL FOUR SLICES OF CHEESE.

Irritated, and ready to torch all things French, I stormed off muttering to myself that I want the calories of my choosing or no calories at all. After seeing those olives, nothing else would do. 

Lucky for the French, on my way out of the city, I saw another branch of the same pizzaria, and they had my olives. That slice of pie was absolutely delicious. I don’t know if it was the fight that made it so tasty, or if it was the ingredients. I didn’t care.

After the city, we walked to a little winery called Santa Croce. The gentleman there let us make taste of the wine. The girls tried the rosé, and I tried their red Chianti, which is fabulous in this region. It was an affirming experience to sit there, drinking a generous “taste” glass of wine while looking over the grapevines that produced it. It’s the picture with a few tables in the foreground. I bought some olive oil and got a free postcard out of the deal.  

We stopped by the supermercato on the way back to our room. I was picking up a bottle of Birra Peroni, when I overheard a small group of of people that sounded like they were from Britain talking. One guy said to the other, “That will be a lot of beer.” Before I could even open my mouth to remind him that there’s not such a thing as too much beer, the other guy sharply replied, “You can never have enough beer.”

Good to know some concepts are universal. 

Turns out that you can actually buy dress shirts in the coop grocery store here. I guess that’s what puts the “super” in the mercato. Of course, anything is better than the one Simone sent us to in Rome.

I tried Birra Moretti today, and I should have known I wouldn’t like it as much as Birra Peroni–it doesn’t have nearly the street following.

When we were walking up to our room, our landlady of sorts (who has the morally-objecting mother) raised the screen in her window and asked if we liked figs. After the girls replied in the affirmative, she handed us a plate full of huge figs. Massive figs. I took a picture, but haven’t been able to send it in yet. I’m not a huge fig fan, but these were delicious. 

I took a nap and now am finishing this post up. After, I’ll take a shower and get in bed early.

It’s going to be an early morning to catch the bus. We are heading to Pisa tomorrow. Maybe I’ll let the roosters be my alarm clock.