I’m really glad I’m living in Siena. This weekend was fun, but still, really glad.
For the first long weekend of the program, the group (minus three, so sixteen of us), planned an adventure: We would go to Florence on Friday, explore, spend the night there, and in the morning catch an early train to Cinque Terre, hike and beach, and go back to Florence for the night, to celebrate Sean’s birthday: he was turning 20. Sunday we would make our way back to Siena for classes on Monday.
Organizing a trip for 16 people is difficult. We learned this beyond a shadow of a doubt. We were placed in two different hostels on opposite sides of town, and were constantly losing track of each other. However, in spite of the obstacles, we saw and did some very cool things.
We chose to go to Florence this particular weekend because of the Calcio Storico (an annual, medieval, full contact soccer game put on by the city. The rules: one on one fights only. No ganging up). From what I’ve been told, it’s almost as big a deal in Florence as the Palio is here. Unfortunately, we found out the day before that it was pretty much impossible to get tickets. However, it was excellent being in the city for it, and we did get to watch the fireworks.
Friday was spent largely in wandering around, seeing sights, trying to find each other, get to hostels, and find dinner. We saw the Duomo, possibly the most physically imposing building I’ve every seen. It’s big, it’s super intricate, and it’s right in the middle of the city. Stunning. We also saw the church where Dante is buried (my geek heart sang).
In the evening, we found an Irish bar that was showing the game on TV, and then went to dinner at a restaurant has apparently been in business since the 1880’s. I had octopus ravioli and white beans, which were simple and very satisfying. The most spectacular dish by far, however, was the pear pasta that my roommate Shirley ordered. Tiny pasta pouches filled with pear, and smothered in a sharp cheese sauce. The sweetness of the pear and the sharpness of the sauce complimented each other perfectly. It was amazing and unexpected, a delicious surprise to the taste buds. After dinner, we wandered to the city, admiring statues and old buildings, and eventually making our way to the Arno (the river that transects Florence) for the aforementioned fireworks.
Saturday morning we rose early to catch a train to Cinque Terre, which was much more difficult than expected, due to the huge numbers of people trying to get there with us (they had to order a second train, and we were packed together like a new york subway). One of the things that I hadn’t really appreciated about Siena is the relative lack of tourists. We have some, but in Florence and Cinque Terre, it seemed like there were more Americans than Italians.
Cinque Terre is beautiful, and HOT. Essentially it is five little villages on a very mountainous part of the Mediterranean coast, accessible only by train. A hiking trail connects the five villages, which makes for very popular hiking. We went for beaching, hiking, and views. Since it's a very touristed area, and a popular trail, my somewhat elitist northwest self assumed the trail would be fairly easy.
I was very very wrong. It was STEEP (large portions of what we walked were stairs)! That, plus the hot sun, meant we were very quickly sweating and panting. The views, however, were spectacular. Mountains, beaches, ocean. Truly lovely.
After an hour, we decided we had hiked far enough, and made our way back down to the beach. The beach was lovely, and the cool Mediterranean was perfect in the hot sun. We spent a leisurely afternoon alternating between baking in the sun and swimming in the sea.
After a long train ride back, tension began to mount. As I mentioned, it was Sean's birthday, and he was chomping at the bit to "rage", as he put it. The rest of us were more leery of drinking in a strange and less-safe-than-Siena city, and food and showers were much higher on the priority list. I personally was starving, and, as we got back at 9:30, beginning to worry that we wouldn't be able to find dinner. This anxiety increased as getting taxis back into the city after showering was a huge ordeal (one of my favorite things about Siena is that it's possible to walk everywhere), and we waited for 20 minutes on a curb. The group ended up getting separated, but we did find a restaurant that served good food, and decided just to eat there, instead of finding the others. I had an excellent roast beef with potatoes (I didn't know this, but apparently tuscan beef is some of the best in the world), served cold and very pink over a bed of greens.
Now no longer hungry, I was much more amenable to the prospect of the nights festivities, and after getting in touch with the other half of our group (they had eaten at a different restaurant with the birthday boy), we decided we would all meet at the irish pub from the night before.
The Irish pub was awesome; dark and old fashioned, but still spacious enough to move around comfortably. The ceiling was covered with tee shirts from colleges in the states. I looked for a Whitman shirt, but sadly, to no avail. Once the rest of the group caught up with us, we decided to look for a previously recommended club called Twice, which turned out to be just around the corner.
We had an amazing time at Twice.
At first it was a little sketchy: the over-romanticized notion of the italian lover appears to be largely incorrect, and the men at clubs tend to be older, excessively forward and rather creepy. On the main dance floor, it took our group a grand total of 30 seconds to be completely surrounded by creepers. However, the birthday boy decided to buy us the VIP section for the night, and that was fantastic! We danced until 4 in the morning. Getting cabs home was a bit difficult, but eventually we all arrived at our hostels and collapsed into bed.
The following morning we returned to Siena by very crowded bus (there was a train strike), pleased with the weekend but very glad to be home.
Guys guys guys guys guys.
r touring the Palazzo Piccolomini, we met up with our cultural classes for a short field study session. Since I'm studying food and culture, this means we essentially ate our way across town through various local deli grocery things (I'm not entirely sure what the term is). The first one was especially exciting. It was entirely devoted to pecorino, traditionally made Italian sheep cheese (the Italians strike me as caring very much about authenticity and the old way, more on that later). For those of you who haven't been exposed to my rants, sheep cheese is one of my favorite things. It's also something I don't commonly see in the states, but apparently Tuscany is prime sheep country, and pecorino is a local specialty. I was incandescent, very quietly bouncing up and down with excitement as we looked around, and talked with the owner about the old way, sheep, and types of cheese. It was at this point that he started pulling down blocks from the shelves, and cutting up samples, so that we could taste the different methods of preparation. And different additives. Like truffles. I had pecorino with truffles. PECORINO. WITH TRUFFLES. It was really exciting. I bought some. Also wild boar sausages with truffle, because when else am I going to find wild boar sausages, especially with truffles?
The monastery was gorgeous, with stunning frescoes and architecture. It was an active monastery, so as we toured, we saw signs of daily use, which was cool. Our tour guide was very well informed, and had many things to tell us about the painting of the frescoes, the establishment of the monastery, etc. It was all very interesting, but I wish she had given us a moment or two to really appreciate where we were. We could hear the monks chanting through the walls, but didn't stop to listen. I wish we had.
