Italian Transportation Goes on Strike; Student Travelers Fall Victim

This morning, six of us: Meredith, Courtney, Mayo, Nikki, Me (all members of the Corso di Tintori apartment) and Bryan left for our brief sojourn to Pisa. Meredith, of course, had to wake up around 7, and thus wake the rest of us bums up at 730. We left around 10 of for an 8:30 train.

At first, everything went smoothly. We powerwalked to the train station, which woke us all up, got our tickets sucessfully, and piled onto the, suprise, very cold train. We all took naps, chatted etc., until an hour had transpired and we stopped in Pisa. We unloaded, and found the closest bar, which is a coffee shop, and ordered ridiculously expensive cappucinos.

Now, here in Florence, we are now accustomed to 1 euro cappucinos, and 1 euro croissants -- typical breakfast fare for when you're feeling fancy, tired, and hungry. Well -- here in Pisa, a cappucino will you set you back 4.50 euros, and a croissant another 4. We did it anyway, because our stomachs were eating themselves. The bathroom was also experience. Bryan had used it and left, he recommended that i 'hover.' Rest assured, I hovered a good foot above the seat.

The place where the tower was came out of nowhere. You walk about 20 minutes from the train station, among deserted streets and graffited walls, and pow! Tower Power. The tower was very cool. And get this -- it was leaning. It's next to a church, with it's own duomo, and a babtistry -- all white stone set in this enormous green lawn. It's really beautiful, the white stone on the huge green plane.

We goofed around, taking those pictures where you 'hold up' or 'push down' the tower. Meredith took this humilating video of me trying to crawl ontop of the small stone pillars that you stand on to take these famed photos. It was really very humbling. After our photoshoot, we were going to climb up the tower, but it was 15 euros, and besides, it looked like it was going to fall down.

We headed back to the train station, hurried and everything, thinking we were going to miss the 1230 train. But it didn't come on time, and some lady came over the loud speaker saying something about the train to Firenze and Santa Maria Novella, and low and behold, it turns out the train would not be comming. The transportation folks decided to go on strike from 9 to 6 so we were out of luck on a train ride home.

P.S. We got McDonald's for lunch. I can't remember the last time I'd had McDonalds, but I had it this time. It tasted great, but left my stomach quite leaden.

Some nice Italian man told us we should take a bus. We decided this would be a good alternative idea, and booked it to the bus station. The tickets we bought were for a bus that left at 1 to Luca. From Luca, we'd have to transfer to a bus to Florence. When we bought them it was 1254, so we had to book it. We grabbed the tickets, and hurried around the corner to where the lady said the bus would arrive.

Because we are mornons, we sprinted past the correct spot, across a vicious rotary where Nikki nearly got hit, and ran down the street that lead towards the tower. We skirted around a hoard of people that were waiting for a bus -- we thought it might be ours, but it was a city tram. We continued on until it was obvious we were way to far from the bus station. We all yelled at each other as to which was the right way. You can immagine the chaos. A bunch of 'strong personality' type girls shouting and screaming in high pitched voices in the desolate streets of Pisa. We ended up turning around and sprinting back towards the bus station, where we saw a suspicious blue bus that just might be our ride. Meredith ran like lightening, I've never seen someone ran so fast. She got into this low, dangerous crouching-run. The rest of us just ran back through the crowd of awaiting passengers at that 'other' bus stop. We must have looked like a bunch of idiots.

So we saw the bus arrive at the stop, then leave. We were bumed, and just slumped all over the steps. Then suddenly, another blue bus appeared at that bus stop with all the people that was across the rotary. We ran, shoved our way into the crowd, and got on the correct bus to Lucca.

I holed up with Nikki in the back of the bus. Before we even left the city, the bus driver puled over and started yelling at this guy who was slumped in a seat in the middle of the bus. He kept ingnoring him, but finally jumped up and yelled back in Italian. This raucous exchange went on for five full minutes. Apparently the young guy that was being yelled at tried to get on with a shiesty ticket. I heard this young dark character even say things like 'Fungul' (spelling?) and yes, even "Mama Mia!" Eventually the situation calmed down, and we ventured on, through gorgeous mountains and farmland to Lucca. At Lucca we had a smooth transfer, and made it all the way to Florence. It was a bus packed with preteen Italian kids who gawked at me when I spoke English, and French guy who only spoke Italian to me, which of course, did not work.

All in all, we got home in a little over 3 hours. It worked out well, and the posed pics of us supporting the tower were definitely worth it.

Architecture in Context in a few minutes. Three hours of architecture mumbo jumbo that seems to transcend all languages. Liminality, temporariness, permanency, yadda yadda yadda. Our professor is cool though, Franco. He's short with shoulder length brown hair and looks like he'd be a short henchman for some kind of maffia, but he's super nice and very knoweldgeable about this stuff. So off I go, hopefully he'll give us a capuccino break.

Yesterday the School hosted a bus trip to a vineyard in Chinati.

Chianti was about an hour fifteen from Florence... not so bad if the bus weren't so cold. By the end of the ride there I was wearing my scarf, Bryan's scarf, my jacket, my friend Joe's leather jacket, and my bookbag, which I used as a blanket. These Europeans sure can resist the cold. They would be great people to live with at home as they wouldn't rack up a huge heating bill. Along with a tolerance for cold, they also have quite the affinity for life-threatening driving, as our bus driver seemed fearless as he cruised around the hair-pin turns on roads that had hill on one side, sheer drop off on the other. One of my friends said he seemed to be watching the road about 30% of the time, but no matter, we all got to Chinati in one piece. He may have been distracted by the Chrstina Aguillera (spelling?) and Michael Jackson that was bumpin out of the radio.

Upon arrival, we were hearded off the bus, and greeted by this large, friendly German man with really big lips. I think he's a professor at the school, but I don't know him. We followed him up this long, winding dirt road to a villa which sat on this little hill. It was really very nice, all pink and orange like some kind of frosted cake. It was also very cold... surprise. Everyone outside of Florence seems to be about a bajillion times colder.

First, we took a tour of the olive grove and wine vineyard, where we recieved a crash course in wine making. Apparently you can make white wine from red grapes if you don't crush the grapes, but only press them. Also learned that most wines are better with age. I was quite proud of myself when I could tell the German professor that Germany was famous for it's Riesling wine. Learned alot. After the tour, we had a light lunch of bruschetta, salted meats, and salad, followed by pasta and wine. I was at the end of the self-serve line and kept getting nerous that us at the end of the line would be left without anything. All of the kids before us were taking platefulls of bruschetta and things -- what if there wasn't any left! But it was okay, there was stuff left, and anyway, if they ran out of food, they had a good amount of specta ular wine. We all drank some nice red, a better red, and a good white. I normally don't like white, but this one was super fresh.

At some point during the meal, my friend Meredith decided she would like an entire basket biscotti. There were serveral metal bowels of it near the lunch meats and bruschetta. Haley took it upon herself to get a whole basket for our table. It was gone in 46 seconds. Little did we know that the biscotti was reserved for the dipping into the desert wine, and that all the baskets of biscotti were to be handed out with the sweet wine. So when the nice Italian lady came around with the biscotti baskets, we hid our stolen empty bowel and accepted a second bowl. We ate alot of biscotti. Nick also took the half finished bottle of desert wine.

We got to see the wine cellars, which had HUGE oak barrels of wine. Because I am strange, I looked at those barrels and thought, 'you could fit a person in there... it would probably be a great plot for a murder novel, to throw some hapless victim into a barrel of wine. Maybe an alcoholic victim, as the ultimate irony: the alcoholic who drowned in a barrel of alcohol. " Yes, we all know I am slightly unhinged, but take it or leave it, this is what I thought. If you saw how large these barrels were, you would think it too.

On the way out, we passed the room where they store all the new baby grape vines. They are stored in cardboard boxes. Bryan thought it may be a good idea for me, not him, to sneak a few into my bag, as he didn't want to get in trouble. Needless to say, I did not steal the grape vine plants. That's probably a capitol offense in Italy. Stealing precious Chianti wine grape vines.

The way home was uneventful, but slightly warmer. Tomorrow, Sunday, we're taking a day trip on our own to Pisa. I plan on straightening out that lopsided tower of theirs, and will let you all know how it goes.

Things have been going well. Florence is, as usual, really nice weather wise-- except for last night and today, which was miserably cold and rainy. Andof course, today we had our first site visit for my Villa and Gardens class. We went up to Fiesole by bus. To mom, dad and the mac manus clan -- it'sdefinitely a gorgeous place to stay. Everyone here, natives and tourists alike, always talk about it. It's on a hill outside of the valley so the views are spectacular. So I wake up this morning, and manage to eat breakfast and shower. It was cloudy, and my room gets not-so-much natural light, as our only window is frosted and looks out into the pigeon-poop toilet of our lightwell. (Not that I am complaining, they make nice cooey noises ALL THE TIME. Bryan and I have listened, and have come to the scientifically-based conclusion that they are definitely doin it. They just coo and poop all over the place, but again, they are part of city life, and that goes for europe too. Regardless,I managed to get up dispite the lack of natural light. My body kept saying, don't get up you silly girl, it's only 5:30. Nikki, Alyssa, Mayo and I (my roommates) trudged in the rain to the train station. I made the excellent decision to wear flip flops, as I did not want to wreck my leather moccassins any more, and I think my running sneakers are only made to run. I feel super touristy when I wear them with jeans. Well, my flip-flops slopped all over the place. I nearly slid into some lady on the slick stone cobbles, had some italian lady pop an umbrella in my face, and of course, I had to do battle with all the Florentines for some sidewalk. As much as I love italy and the italians (don't be fooled by my griping) Florentines think they own the 2 ftwide sidewalks, and you frequently have to dip into the streets (where buses come zooming around corners and will take you out if you're not wary) to avoid smashing into them and getting those really stoney glares. We've gotten quite a few, I assure you. So Nikki and I fell behind the other two, because she was being nice and going slow with me as I tried not to fall on my face. We lost them. At the Duomo,I tried calling Bryan to find the train station, and Nikki ran in to ask apharmacist. Well we found out where we had to go, and booked it just in time to get the number 7 bus to fiesole. As I gave my ticket to the little machine, I realized I had taken a small chunk out of my finger along the way. I have no idea how. My white sweater, which is already gray with graphite stains from studio, and black streaks of charcoal, was now smeared with a little red. It may be a little much for our Italiano washing machine to handle. We rode the bus, got there ok, and met our professor. It wasn't long beforemy naked toes went numb, and I started shivering. My teacher felt bad and offered me her gloves, but I was the idiot who wore sneakers, so I gave them back. The garden was gorgeous -- it is realtively new, started in the early1900s, but really lush, verdant and beautiful, even in January. The walls are covered with green creeping roses, there are topiaries carved into green cubes that you can stand under, and citrus trees everywhere. The views were great too, and I would have appreciated them more, if I my teeth were not chattering. I think this has been my most moronic move in Florence to date. On the bus ride home, Alyssa was nice and tried to warm up my feet, which I had wrapped in my white wool newsboy cap. We ate our peanut butter and jelly on cracker sandwiches, and griped the whole way. We love to gripe, and everyone knows I am the Countess of Complaining. We got back in time for a quick cappucino 'take-away', and had our Italian class, and now studio has just just ended. We had presentations and got out early, and Im about to head home, go to the Fabo Magi Mart and get some stuff to make sauce. Weirdly enough, I've only had pasta twice while here. Alyssa bought these weird nipple-like pastas that are good, and we're going to eatthose tonight. They are a popular shape here.

Now to dinner, I'll write later in the week.