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.