Let Me Off the Bus...
BLOG FOR WEDNESDAY MAY 18th!
Note to self:
When you are lost in the countryside of Italy in a stick shift tiny toy car, the cops will find you.
Let me explain.
Yesterday, Chris and I awoke in our hotel in Siena hotel. We got up, had breakfast, I played with the hotel cat in the sunshine outside the dining room, and then we got on the road. Now, I don't think I even touched the subject in the last post that our GPS was not really working. Well, I take that back. It was working but it wouldn't charge in the cigarette lighter. So, Chris and I didn't turn it on yesterday until we reached Siena to find our hotel. Which is what caused all of the profanity and anger towards the female smoker voice that is inside that damn machine.
Anyway, now it was dead and Europe Auto told us there was an office here in Siena that we could go to to figure out the problem with the cigarette lighter.
Translation: Without a GPS and with a map and Italian directions (which in Italian, everything is just "over there"), we had to find the freaking place.
Dear God.
Well, after wrong turns, peel outs, and some more squeals from us inside the car, we finally find Europe Auto. They exchange the fuse that was blown and we have a GPS! Huzzah!
But not really, because now we are on our way to Pienza and we ask a local for directions, just to see what they would say. When we start to drive, we realize his instructions are different than the GPS. Chris does what I would do, what any American would most likely do, and follows the computer, the GPS.
And what does the GPS do in thanks for us following her? GET US LOST.
So, then we are forced to pull over next to a roundabout in the dirt. We are looking at maps, Chris is trying to figure out how to get us on the 222 route, I'm trying to figure out how to get the GPS on a detour setting and we're both just plain frustrated. Suddenly, we hear a tap tap tap on Chris's window. We look up to see a cop.
Just great.
Chris rolls down the window and the cop doesn't even say a word before Chris, practically with tears in her eyes, pathetically says, "We're lost."
We explain to the cop where we need to go, ask how to get there, and he continues to try to give us directions. None of it makes sense to us and luckily the Italian cop, who speaks very good English (thank you God), finally takes pity on us and says, "It's very complicated to get on that route from here. You know what, we will show you."
And the cops escort us on about a ten-fifteen minute trip to the 222.
I've never been escorted by a cop. First time for everything.
We profusely thank the nice man, who hadn't even asked for our licenses I might add, and like that we are on the 222. Driving through the gorgeous country.
It's true what everyone says about Italy. And if no one has told you, I'm telling you now. EVERYTHING looks like a painting. Everything looks like it was perfectly placed, houses and industrials included. Everything makes you smile or cry or, better, both. No pictures can do justice. No description can truly describe what I or Chris have seen.
All I can say is, everyone needs to come with me next time I come here and you'll see what you mean.
Anyway, we had planned out the entire day. We were going to drive through the country to Pienza. Stop to eat, see another small sweet town. And eventually, meet up with the girls, Wanda and Jenny (for those of you who may not have read all of the blogs, these are our two fantastic new friends from Florida who have had the same trip itenerary as us and who we've had dinner with in each city) and hang out with them. Maybe do some wine tastings. Or just hang out with them and play since Chris and I have have worn ourselves out in about twelve days.
That is, until we decided to stop in a very small village known as Bagno Vignoni, right outside of Pienza. Chris had heard of it being famous for it's natural hot bath and so we stopped to see what all of the fuss was about.
It's then that we parked and wandered into a hotel spa known as the Albergo Le Terme.
And man, instead of maybe spending a day in some hot baths, we are sold in about two seconds to two Shiatsu massages and a night's stay.
Ummmm...
Oops. I think?
So the day was spent, since now we had "adjusted" the schedule, in hot baths that the ancient Romans were known for using, the hydrolic massage in the natural pool, and followed by falling asleep to the sound of running water as Chris got her massage.
I wake up an hour later on my chair half drooling.
Oh yeah. Sexy, let me just tell you.
Anyway, so I go to my massage that's to be with Federika, who by the name, I expected a man. I am soon surprised to see a 6'1" German woman who I makes me instantly think to myself, "Oh my God, this woman could break me in half."
So, massages are different here. There is a huge mat that you lay on, no face in a hole type of thing. And there's no calm voice saying, "Okay, I'll leave you while you undress and return in five minutes. Just get under the towel."
Nope. None of that. Just a German woman standing on a mat waiting for you to hang up your robe/drop your drawers.
So meek me decides just to leave the bikini on. Much easier, less akward, and she doesn't say a word about it so I figure it's okay.
And then we begin the massage. She really was great and very much loosened me up. But as the intense classical music played in the background (yeah, no Norah Jones playing here folks), I decided to meditate. I let energy, light and warmth pass from her fingers into my body to help get out the knots and kinks that I didn't even realize were under my skin.
Well, I WAS meditating, that is, until she started to pull my skin. Yes, she pulled my vertebrae from the base at my butt to the top at my neck. Immediately, my entire body and mind recoils and rejects the insane and intense pain that this woman not only has now caused to me but made my hair on my arms stand up straight and now made me nauseous.
Holy shit. So much for energy, warmth and meditation.
As I lay on the mat, I wondered if I would have to ask her to stop due to my new found nausea but tell myself if she touches me like that again, or rather, pull my skin like that again, I'll have to scream and tell her to stop. Eventually, I center myself again as she goes back to doing a lovely massage and nausea passes.
Thank Jesus. Because let's be honest, I feared this woman, and the last thing I wanted to do was ask her anything or make a request.
When I sat up, I told her that although it felt better, my left shoulder was still in pain. She looks at me and my shoulder and with a frown says in her thick German accent, "Yah. It'z no good."
And that was that.
When I emerged, half relaxed, half dizzy, half in a dream, I found Chris and we both talked about how much the spine crawling part of the massage made us both want to die.
So, at least it wasn't just me being a puny little girl.
Chris then tells me that Fredrika had harshly told her that she wasn't breathing with her and asked Chris if she was angry. Chris said she wasn't angry but her mind said, "Maybe afraid...?".
Anyway, afterwards, we tried to ring the girls (Wanda and Jenny) but no one answered and resolved to putz around town until we heard from them.
My God, I could retire here. I could honeymoon here. Shit, I could live here.
Sweeping valleys and forrests of green. Hot spring water running throughout the town and down the mountain. And inside of this perfect painting is a town so full of charm and love, I can't get enough.
We walk into a deli type of place and upon seeing the array of food, Chris and I suddenly decide that we might need snacks for a few days. And, in return, we almost buy out the store (I would say this is what happens when you shop when you're hungry, but honestly, it just happens no matter what when you're in Italy). The way they display the simpliest things makes everything look special. Small sweet peppers stuffed with anchovies and tuna (I LOVE them and can't get enough of them...), sun dried tomatoes, grilled zucchini soaked in olive oil, garlic (which we have just now started to get. It's really not in northern Italy), garlic flowers, wild boar, salami, beef, every type of cheese.
We resort to get a little of everything and soon, a friend of the owner who has been sipping on white wine, watching us and smiling the entire time, finally can't help herself when we start to look at wine and cookies. She jumps up and in excitement, starts spouting off Italian, describing each thing we touch. Now, she knows that neither Chris nor I speak Italian but she obviously doesn't care. And when I am able to pick up a few words here and there, due to my little experience in Spanish and French, she would jump with excitement, repeat the word that I just said in English, and carry on with her Italian, smiling, laughing and describing.
Chris and I were enamored with her. And with the shop. And duh, with the food. We walked out with a little of everything, petting the shop cat at the door (well, after I had already sat on the steps petting the cat for a good five minutes when we first arrived...) on the way out.
We finally resigned to the fact that we weren't going to hear from the girls and accepted that we were starving and wanted to eat. So, right across from the deli, we sat down at a quaint restaurant with a woman who seemed to be a cook and the owner, who spoke perfect Italian but had a British accent.
When she comes to us, after she begins to translate what we don't know on the menu, we start to converse and Chris mentions something about the movie, Under the Tuscan Sun. Although I have never seen the movie (and I suppose I need to!), Chris explains to me and our new friend, Susan, that there's a moment when the girl in on the bus and she sees a small village in Tuscany and she says, "Let me off the bus."
I know I can speak for both of us when I say that Chris and I both say, since we have been in Italy, that same phrase, Let me off the bus.It's then that Susan tells us that she has no need to see the movie because she lived that. She went to school for art in Florence and then after which some friends told her (and mind you, this was about 35 years ago) that she needed to see this thermal bath place.
At that time, the town was not even a town. There wasn't much other than the huge hot bath in the middle of town. But it hit her like a bolt of lightning and she knew she was home. She saved up money, bought a place and while she was renovating, she met her neighbor who was renovating his home too.
Her neighbor ended up being her husband.
If that's not a fairytale, I sure as hell don't know what is.
Practically with tears in both of our eyes, Chris and I start to order our starter food when two wonderful women, Wanda and Jenny, walk into the restaurant.
Squeals and hugs are shared all around. The girls phone had died but luckily we had been in touch with them earlier in the day long enough to tell them where we were. And the night was filled with, honestly, one of the top ten BEST meals of my life (like, seriously), friends, laughter, and wine.
We said bueno noche to our girlfriends, as this would be the last time we would see them here in Italy. But we've already made future plans to hang out at some point-NYC, Denver, Florida, whatever.
What an awesome experience--Chris and I are so lucky to have met them.
And as Chris and I slowly make our way back to the spa, we share gelato and coffee and tun in early to go to bed.
Oh, goodness. Let me off the bus.
Ciao bella!
Love love,
Adrienne
Note to self:
When you are lost in the countryside of Italy in a stick shift tiny toy car, the cops will find you.
Let me explain.
Yesterday, Chris and I awoke in our hotel in Siena hotel. We got up, had breakfast, I played with the hotel cat in the sunshine outside the dining room, and then we got on the road. Now, I don't think I even touched the subject in the last post that our GPS was not really working. Well, I take that back. It was working but it wouldn't charge in the cigarette lighter. So, Chris and I didn't turn it on yesterday until we reached Siena to find our hotel. Which is what caused all of the profanity and anger towards the female smoker voice that is inside that damn machine.
Anyway, now it was dead and Europe Auto told us there was an office here in Siena that we could go to to figure out the problem with the cigarette lighter.
Translation: Without a GPS and with a map and Italian directions (which in Italian, everything is just "over there"), we had to find the freaking place.
Dear God.
Well, after wrong turns, peel outs, and some more squeals from us inside the car, we finally find Europe Auto. They exchange the fuse that was blown and we have a GPS! Huzzah!
But not really, because now we are on our way to Pienza and we ask a local for directions, just to see what they would say. When we start to drive, we realize his instructions are different than the GPS. Chris does what I would do, what any American would most likely do, and follows the computer, the GPS.
And what does the GPS do in thanks for us following her? GET US LOST.
So, then we are forced to pull over next to a roundabout in the dirt. We are looking at maps, Chris is trying to figure out how to get us on the 222 route, I'm trying to figure out how to get the GPS on a detour setting and we're both just plain frustrated. Suddenly, we hear a tap tap tap on Chris's window. We look up to see a cop.
Just great.
Chris rolls down the window and the cop doesn't even say a word before Chris, practically with tears in her eyes, pathetically says, "We're lost."
We explain to the cop where we need to go, ask how to get there, and he continues to try to give us directions. None of it makes sense to us and luckily the Italian cop, who speaks very good English (thank you God), finally takes pity on us and says, "It's very complicated to get on that route from here. You know what, we will show you."
And the cops escort us on about a ten-fifteen minute trip to the 222.
I've never been escorted by a cop. First time for everything.
We profusely thank the nice man, who hadn't even asked for our licenses I might add, and like that we are on the 222. Driving through the gorgeous country.
It's true what everyone says about Italy. And if no one has told you, I'm telling you now. EVERYTHING looks like a painting. Everything looks like it was perfectly placed, houses and industrials included. Everything makes you smile or cry or, better, both. No pictures can do justice. No description can truly describe what I or Chris have seen.
All I can say is, everyone needs to come with me next time I come here and you'll see what you mean.
Anyway, we had planned out the entire day. We were going to drive through the country to Pienza. Stop to eat, see another small sweet town. And eventually, meet up with the girls, Wanda and Jenny (for those of you who may not have read all of the blogs, these are our two fantastic new friends from Florida who have had the same trip itenerary as us and who we've had dinner with in each city) and hang out with them. Maybe do some wine tastings. Or just hang out with them and play since Chris and I have have worn ourselves out in about twelve days.
That is, until we decided to stop in a very small village known as Bagno Vignoni, right outside of Pienza. Chris had heard of it being famous for it's natural hot bath and so we stopped to see what all of the fuss was about.
It's then that we parked and wandered into a hotel spa known as the Albergo Le Terme.
And man, instead of maybe spending a day in some hot baths, we are sold in about two seconds to two Shiatsu massages and a night's stay.
Ummmm...
Oops. I think?
So the day was spent, since now we had "adjusted" the schedule, in hot baths that the ancient Romans were known for using, the hydrolic massage in the natural pool, and followed by falling asleep to the sound of running water as Chris got her massage.
I wake up an hour later on my chair half drooling.
Oh yeah. Sexy, let me just tell you.
Anyway, so I go to my massage that's to be with Federika, who by the name, I expected a man. I am soon surprised to see a 6'1" German woman who I makes me instantly think to myself, "Oh my God, this woman could break me in half."
So, massages are different here. There is a huge mat that you lay on, no face in a hole type of thing. And there's no calm voice saying, "Okay, I'll leave you while you undress and return in five minutes. Just get under the towel."
Nope. None of that. Just a German woman standing on a mat waiting for you to hang up your robe/drop your drawers.
So meek me decides just to leave the bikini on. Much easier, less akward, and she doesn't say a word about it so I figure it's okay.
And then we begin the massage. She really was great and very much loosened me up. But as the intense classical music played in the background (yeah, no Norah Jones playing here folks), I decided to meditate. I let energy, light and warmth pass from her fingers into my body to help get out the knots and kinks that I didn't even realize were under my skin.
Well, I WAS meditating, that is, until she started to pull my skin. Yes, she pulled my vertebrae from the base at my butt to the top at my neck. Immediately, my entire body and mind recoils and rejects the insane and intense pain that this woman not only has now caused to me but made my hair on my arms stand up straight and now made me nauseous.
Holy shit. So much for energy, warmth and meditation.
As I lay on the mat, I wondered if I would have to ask her to stop due to my new found nausea but tell myself if she touches me like that again, or rather, pull my skin like that again, I'll have to scream and tell her to stop. Eventually, I center myself again as she goes back to doing a lovely massage and nausea passes.
Thank Jesus. Because let's be honest, I feared this woman, and the last thing I wanted to do was ask her anything or make a request.
When I sat up, I told her that although it felt better, my left shoulder was still in pain. She looks at me and my shoulder and with a frown says in her thick German accent, "Yah. It'z no good."
And that was that.
When I emerged, half relaxed, half dizzy, half in a dream, I found Chris and we both talked about how much the spine crawling part of the massage made us both want to die.
So, at least it wasn't just me being a puny little girl.
Chris then tells me that Fredrika had harshly told her that she wasn't breathing with her and asked Chris if she was angry. Chris said she wasn't angry but her mind said, "Maybe afraid...?".
Anyway, afterwards, we tried to ring the girls (Wanda and Jenny) but no one answered and resolved to putz around town until we heard from them.
My God, I could retire here. I could honeymoon here. Shit, I could live here.
Sweeping valleys and forrests of green. Hot spring water running throughout the town and down the mountain. And inside of this perfect painting is a town so full of charm and love, I can't get enough.
We walk into a deli type of place and upon seeing the array of food, Chris and I suddenly decide that we might need snacks for a few days. And, in return, we almost buy out the store (I would say this is what happens when you shop when you're hungry, but honestly, it just happens no matter what when you're in Italy). The way they display the simpliest things makes everything look special. Small sweet peppers stuffed with anchovies and tuna (I LOVE them and can't get enough of them...), sun dried tomatoes, grilled zucchini soaked in olive oil, garlic (which we have just now started to get. It's really not in northern Italy), garlic flowers, wild boar, salami, beef, every type of cheese.
We resort to get a little of everything and soon, a friend of the owner who has been sipping on white wine, watching us and smiling the entire time, finally can't help herself when we start to look at wine and cookies. She jumps up and in excitement, starts spouting off Italian, describing each thing we touch. Now, she knows that neither Chris nor I speak Italian but she obviously doesn't care. And when I am able to pick up a few words here and there, due to my little experience in Spanish and French, she would jump with excitement, repeat the word that I just said in English, and carry on with her Italian, smiling, laughing and describing.
Chris and I were enamored with her. And with the shop. And duh, with the food. We walked out with a little of everything, petting the shop cat at the door (well, after I had already sat on the steps petting the cat for a good five minutes when we first arrived...) on the way out.
We finally resigned to the fact that we weren't going to hear from the girls and accepted that we were starving and wanted to eat. So, right across from the deli, we sat down at a quaint restaurant with a woman who seemed to be a cook and the owner, who spoke perfect Italian but had a British accent.
When she comes to us, after she begins to translate what we don't know on the menu, we start to converse and Chris mentions something about the movie, Under the Tuscan Sun. Although I have never seen the movie (and I suppose I need to!), Chris explains to me and our new friend, Susan, that there's a moment when the girl in on the bus and she sees a small village in Tuscany and she says, "Let me off the bus."
I know I can speak for both of us when I say that Chris and I both say, since we have been in Italy, that same phrase, Let me off the bus.It's then that Susan tells us that she has no need to see the movie because she lived that. She went to school for art in Florence and then after which some friends told her (and mind you, this was about 35 years ago) that she needed to see this thermal bath place.
At that time, the town was not even a town. There wasn't much other than the huge hot bath in the middle of town. But it hit her like a bolt of lightning and she knew she was home. She saved up money, bought a place and while she was renovating, she met her neighbor who was renovating his home too.
Her neighbor ended up being her husband.
If that's not a fairytale, I sure as hell don't know what is.
Practically with tears in both of our eyes, Chris and I start to order our starter food when two wonderful women, Wanda and Jenny, walk into the restaurant.
Squeals and hugs are shared all around. The girls phone had died but luckily we had been in touch with them earlier in the day long enough to tell them where we were. And the night was filled with, honestly, one of the top ten BEST meals of my life (like, seriously), friends, laughter, and wine.
We said bueno noche to our girlfriends, as this would be the last time we would see them here in Italy. But we've already made future plans to hang out at some point-NYC, Denver, Florida, whatever.
What an awesome experience--Chris and I are so lucky to have met them.
And as Chris and I slowly make our way back to the spa, we share gelato and coffee and tun in early to go to bed.
Oh, goodness. Let me off the bus.
Ciao bella!
Love love,
Adrienne
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