Eight Days in Italy

Part III : San Gimignano, Siena, Rome
Racehorses on city streets, beauty overload, Murphy's Law, and returning someday to Rome
The first written record of San Gimignano dates from 929 AD, but the little city existed long before that. San Gimignano is beautiful and charming; travel writer Rick Steves calls it "a perfectly preserved tourist trap."
Looking down a street in San Gimignano, away from the main piazza.
Looking up at an odd little terrace next to a fortress-like structure in San Gimignano. The wide range of people who have lived in and worked on this structure over the years is evident in the differing styles of repair: neat brick next to large rocks next to concrete.
An alley in San Gimignano, allowing passage between two enormous buildings. Note the steel plate in the brick allowing access to a subterranean system of some kind. An ancient sewer?
Good morning, Siena! This is the view from the hotel room window.
Another shot from the window in Siena. I love the colors of Tuscany: sand, earth, terracotta, mossy green.
Siena doing the wave. I couldn't help wondering who lives in these apartments and what their lives are like.
Onward to Rome! and the Arch of Titus.
My awe was diminished somewhat when I realized that the carvings depicted the destruction and looting of the Jewish temple. "Hey! That's my menorah! Give that back!"
This tangle of brick and stone arches and buttresses is near the Roman Forum. I don't know what it used to be, but I love this sort of thing.
Rome is lousy with cats. We didn't see cats in Florence or Siena, but they were everywhere in Rome. I took this picture just up Palatine Hill. I'm still not sure exactly how many cats are in the picture.
I didn't get to go inside the Colosseum. I'll have to go back. But as we wandered toward the street to find a taxi, I stopped and grabbed this shot. Roma victor!
One of my favorite things about Italy (Europe, really) is the tiny cars. Smart cars, Minis, and this adorable car straight out of a cartoon. So cute, so tiny, park it anywhere. I'd like one in black, please.

It was so hard to leave Florence.

But we did. We left in a black Mercedes with a driver named Max. Max had good English and a license permitting him to drive through the little streets in San Gimignano and Siena, our next destinations. On our way to Siena, we passed an exit for a town called Badasse, which cracked me up (I am so easily amused). I explained the joke as well as I could to Max, but I'm not sure he really understood.

San Gimignano was our lunch stop. We bought pizzitas and cremas from the cafe on the piazza. We also bought a little oxydized copper horse (I seem to have a collection of little horses) and a string of tiger's-eye beads (4.50 euro). I spent ten minutes or so watching a silversmith tapping out an intricate pattern on the base of what would become a silver chalice; he used a tiny chisel and a tiny hammer. It was fascinating to watch.

Eventually we piled back into the car and Max drove us to Siena. By this time, I was so exhausted that all I wanted to do was sleep. Siena was so beautiful, but I felt oversaturated with beauty, unable to absorb more, weighed down and drowning in it all.

Siena, I learned, is famous for a crazy horse race called the Palio held there every year. The outer edge of the enormous center piazza is covered with dirt and sand, and riders in bright jockey colors race their horses bareback around the track. It looks completely insane and I would love to see it someday. Meanwhile, everything in Siena is horse-themed. Even the lamps in my room had bases shaped like racehorses.

The next day, we were driven to the train station, where we took a train to Chiusi, changed trains, and headed for Rome's Termini. We passed a lot of vineyards on the way.

Rome was good and bad. I didn't get to see the ancient forum and Colosseum because our guide blew us off on the day we were scheduled to go, and then the next day, I was sick and it was pouring. We threw coins over our shoulders into the Trevi Fountain to ensure our return to Rome. I added a wish for good weather.

We'd been home for just a couple of weeks when I got an e-mail from my mother: "I'm homesick for Italy." Me too.

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