Its Thursday, and Hillary and I have booked a bicycle tour of Tuscany for today. This turned out to be the highlight of the entire trip! After bus sing it to the train station, we got a little lost looking for the tour meeting place, and just made it before the vans pulled out.

We immediately bonded with our tour guide, Gillian, who was from California. When we asked her, in rapture, how she came to be living in Florence, she answered “I married an Italian.” We then listened as she recalled the amazing love story of her and her husband Thomas, how they met, and survived 6 years of long distance before she gave in and immigrated. It was all so wonderfully romantic and happy that Hillary and I were both mesmerized. She even commented that her husband had 4 single friends and would either of us like to return to Florence next week and be set up? Hillary about fell over herself accepting that offer! (Can’t wait to hear how it turns out my darling! – have fun!)

Gillian gave us some really interesting insights into Italy: how important family is, and how they can be somewhat annoyingly dependent on one another (she commented that her father in-law would sometimes call in the middle of the night asking for them to move his car because he was illegally parked, as a for instance). She also said that the men here were not afraid of commitment, and that in general, men date with a view to finding a relationship because they really want to adore someone, and shower them with affection, love, and romance. Doesn’t sound bad, does it? Interestingly, it was also pointed out that people in Italy (men included) are very encouraging and congratulatory of a person who is starting out in a relationship. Guys will support other guys who seem to be falling in love. There is no social expectation of playing the field, being one of the guys, or being afraid of commitment. The Italians enjoy talking about romance and are not at all afraid of sounding mushy and gooey. It is wonderfully refreshing.

After getting kitted out with our bikes, helmets and fluids for the day, we set off on the rolling hills of the Tuscan countryside: only about 10 miles from Florence. It was beautiful, and exactly as I had always pictured it in my head.

Our first stop was a beautiful winery called Principe Corsini that produced 4 reds & 1 white as well as olive oil. We were astounded to learn that today was the very first day of the harvest, and the place had been abuzz since 5am! Everyone was running around, there was much excitement, and we were lucky enough to watch the grapes get poured into the giant mechanical grinders to be separated from their stems, crushed, and then piped to giant stainless steel vats for fermentation.

Not knowing that much about wine, I found the tour to be fascinating: learning about the steps of fermentation, what yeasts are added and when, what type of oak is used for what wine during the aging process, etc etc. This region is the Chianti region and thus famous for its wine of the same name that uses mostly the San Giovessi grape. I didn’t know that a red wine’s color comes entirely from the skin of the grape. Without the skin, you could make a red wine look white, it just wouldn’t taste that good.

We also learned much about olive oil. Interesting facts: each olive tree can only produce about 1 litre of oil, therefore production of olive oil has a notoriously low profit margin! Most of the olive oil comes from the pit, not the fruit. Extra virgin oil is produced during the first “press” of the fruit, virgin from the second, and regular olive oil from the 3rd press. Fascinating stuff.

Of course the highlight was getting to taste it all-which we did! The non-organic olive oil was my favorite, and I bought a can of it. I really enjoyed meeting with our tour guide, Rachel, too. She was from Australia and worked not only as a tour guide at the winery estate, but also worked as a nanny to the owner’s two (very spoiled) children. She had no plans for the winter, and as a fellow traveller, had been wandering the globe every since college graduation. I immediately suggested that she go work in Whistler for the winter, and offered to have her come visit me first in Seattle. We happily exchanged emails. (There is this strange, unspoken, kinship that exists between people who choose to take on the risk of globetrotting during their youth, and it bonds you to them immediately. That’s at least how I feel).

Funny story: there was a piano in the tasting room, and on it lay music from my favorite musical: Les Miserables. I asked Rachel “Why is the music to “Do you hear the people sing?” on the piano?”, to which she replies “Oh, I’m learning to play it – its my favorite musical!”. You can guess what happened. Yup, sang my heart out with Rachel at the keys for all to listen. What fun!

Our next stop was for lunch, and oh boy was it delicious! We ordered tagliatelle with funghi (mushrooms), ravioli, mixed salad, and tiramisu. It was a leisurely 2 hour affair with wine, and it was lovely getting to know our fellow cyclists. I especially enjoyed meeting Helen, an Australian lady who was travelling through Italy with her daughter, after recently losing her husband to cancer. She loved Mamma Mia, and I entertained her throughout the day by singing Abba songs to her while I rode my bike. She didn’t believe me when I told her that one of Abba’s first songs ever written was called “Hey Hey Helen”. I sang a few lines for her. “Oh, you made that one up!” she jibed. I’m going to send her the song!

After lunch, struggling up some of the hills with a full belly was quite the task. Luckily, there were also some staggeringly fun downhills too! Stopping for photos along the way- we rode for a solid two more hours, before our final stop for gelato!

Storm clouds were gathering and we began to hear the first rumbles of thunder. What a memorable day we’d had. We were hot, sticky, sweaty, and all kinds of nasty- but no matter! Hillary and I were catching a train at 6;30pm for Venice and we had to go as we were! In fact, we wouldn’t have made it without Gillian kindly offering to drive us to the station! Thanks, Gillian!

When we got to the station, Hillary and I were dismayed to find out that all of the second class tickets were sold out! Our first class tickets were $80 and we reluctantly paid, grabbed some sandwiches, and hopped aboard.

It was a fast 3 hours spent relaxing and excitedly recalling the day’s adventure. Nothing could top it- or at least we thought so.

Hillary and I stepped off the platform in Venice and exited the station. Then we stopped. And stood still, aghast. Hillary started crying. I welled up. The station is directly on the Grand Canale in Venice- so you actually step out onto stairs leading directly to the water – full of gondolas and boats, all towered over by stunning buildings and palazzos. All of this framed against a glowing night sky. We were beside ourselves for quite some time.

Getting in line to buy our “Vaporetto” tickets (the only public transport in Venice itself is by these shuttle boats) we were again stunned when we were approached by 2 Australians who gave us their day passes and said “There’s about 2 hours left on these…enjoy Venice!!” and walked away. Wheeee!! We got on the boat and awaited departure.

And waited. What was wrong with this boat? Why was this woman so mad with us that we’d decided to step out on the unshielded part of the boat where we could see the city? Hillary and I both got it at the same moment. What we were standing on, was not a boat! It was a sort of docking station, that the boats pull up to! We had pushed our way to the front of the line, and now stood in the path of exiting passengers. All very funny.

It was about an hour by boat to our hostel, and we didn’t arrive until after 11pm. The city was stunning at night, but despite our excitement, the prospect of a shower and bed was even greater.

Hillary and I woke in our lovely hostel in Florence early since we had reserved tickets to visit the Galleria Accademia – home to the world famous sculpture by Michelangelo, “The David”. I had read that the lines to get tickets to enter the museum could take up to 4-6 hours, since the museum has become more of a shrine than a tourist attraction, I didn’t feel like taking any chances.

It was lovely to be one of the first persons allowed into the museum which held an impressive array of renaissance sculpture and paintings (I will keep my descriptions to a minimum as I am far from being an art expert!) I had read that people just gasped when they first saw David, and I was sceptical. But at over 9 feet of manly perfection, he did not disappoint. There were all kinds of digital computerised programs set up to show the stages of sculpting the artist would have gone through, as well as the sculpture’s perfect proportions from a multitude of angles. He really was astounding- the intricacy of the work, the detail in every muscle, every contour left you with no other conclusion than Michelangelo was a rare genius. To be honest, after seeing David, the other sculptures kind of paled into insignificance.

After a few hours of art, Hillary and I wandered back towards the Duomo and got in line to walk the 461 steps up to the top of the basilica. It was really hot, and I put something around my shoulders and added the “pants” part to my shorts rather begrudgingly. Up we headed through the narrow and winding staircase which finally opened out onto an internal platform that circled the uppermost part of the painted ceiling of the cathedral. The painting was striking and depicted various tormented humans in hell, and those luckier few ascending to heaven. How on earth the work was done or completed is staggering to ponder.

Further on up more stairs led to a circular rooftop from which we could look over the entire city. We waned in the heat, but soaked up the views of the red roofed buildings, winding streets and the Tuscan hills in the background.

It was time for another Italian meal, and we both chose a different pasta dish and shared. I ordered a coke with my lunch, and was shocked to find that a 250ml bottle cost around $6!! The price of enjoying this place! (something that really bugs me about Europe– water is not provided in restaurants at no charge.)

We headed back to the hostel, but not before stopping for a bottle of wine in a grocery store. At the hostel, we booked a bicycle tour of Tuscany for the next day (very exciting) and found train times to Venice in the evening….all the while drinking our wine and getting lovely and sloshed. We had tickets for our next heavy hitting museum, the Uffizi at 4;30pm and we figured it might be more fun if we were a little inebriated.

And we were right. The Uffizi is enormous and overwhelming (though no way nearly as bad as the Louvre) and I did really enjoy the Bottecelli’s (especially The Birth of Venus) as well as some rather bloody and grotesque works by Caravaggio. After finally finding our way out of the museum (one can only ascend and descend floors in certain sections!) we headed south across the river to the Piazza Santo Spirito for dinner, as I’d heard that this was the best place to hear live music in the city!

The piazza did not disappoint. It was packed with people, and bustled with a vibrant life that you can only find in Europe (I think, but I’m prejudiced!) We found a fabulous Trattoria and shared a gigantic steaming plate of Tagliatelle with fresh Seafood and wine. Delicioso. We then settled down by the fountain to listen to an incredible blues band who were playing some original and some classic standards like “Autumn Leaves” and “Caravan”. I was in my element and soaked it all in with my glass of wine in hand.

An hour or so later, the band ended rather abruptly and a large crowd of people began to form at the north end of the piazza. It turned out to be a Catholic religious “Madonna” festival procession, and contained THOUSANDS of people singing and parading past us holding candles. We were so lucky to get a chance to witness this as the atmosphere was nothing short of electric.

Check out the video I’ve uploaded here…

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This morning, after breakfast, Hillary and I ran to catch the bus to Lenno, which is in the same direction as the original town of Como. Our hostel owner had given us an incorrect time of departure, and we ended up having to run up a hill to the bus stop, dragging our matching luggage behind us at great peril to their structural integrity, and jumped on the bus without tickets. In Italy, you have to buy your bus tickets in advance at a newsagents…or, apparently, at certain bars?? Problem is, the newsagents close at 12pm and then re-open at 4:30 – so you really must plan to buy the days’ worth of bus tickets ahead of time! After trying to smile cutely and convey that this was our first bus in Italy, the bus driver conceded to our paying 3 euros and letting us stay on board (I’m sure he put the coins directly into his pocket).

Our destination of the morning was the beautiful Villa Balbianello, on a promontory overlooking Lake Como, about a 2km walk from Lenno. The grounds are open to the public, and were originally built by a politically important cardinal in the 16^th century, but most recently was owned by an business entrepreneur and world explorer by the name Guido Monzino. I was initially drawn to the property because of its rise to fame in the movie world: it was used as a backdrop for a palace on Naboo in Star Wars: Episosde 2, and more recently (and excitingly), as the location for the place of rest and recovery to James Bond in the most recent Casino Royale film.

The grounds were magnificently beautiful, with tended tiered gardens that were breathtaking. We took a guided tour of the villa itself, which was fascinating, especially since the owner was such an interesting person. The entire top floor of the villa is a museum he created dedicated to his 27 world expeditions to places such as the North Pole, Everest, Patagonia, and Kilimanjaro. There were some incredible photos and artifacts on display, as well as an extremely impressive collection of ancient art that he had collected over the years on his many travels. The villa and the estate was donated to the Italian National Trust as a piece of cultural heritage upon his death in 1987. It turned out to be well worth the morning’s visit, in addition to fulfilling my geekish interest in the property as having been used as a film set.

After re-collecting our luggage (I had beguiled the young worker at the tourist information center into letting us leave our bags in the office) we hungrily acquired some fruit for our journey on to Como and waited for the bus (all the while praying, as a police officer had informed us that the bus MIGHT not come due to a strike. Of course, being Italian, he and everyone else standing in the bus queue seemed completely unperturbed at the possibility!)

Which brings me to some general observations of Italia in general. First of all, going to the bathroom is quite an adventure. There are all manner of levers and buttons that one has to push in order to flush and produce water in sinks. All needing much hand-eye-foot coordination.

Second, everything and everybody here takes their sweet time. Hillary and I have been standing in line waiting to buy, say, a bottle of wine, our cash at the ready, and we have to wait 5-10 minutes for the girl at the check out counter to complete her ever-so-much-more-important social conversation with her gal pal before she will even notice we are there. To a customer centred American, this is quite annoying at first, but in a few days, I’ve already grown accustomed to waiting…albeit impatiently. It is no longer strange because it happens all the time.

Third, everyone here is so relaxed and happy. It is apparent in their faces, the way they smile, the pace at which they move, every pore of their being oozes contentment at their being….well, Italian! I’ve yet to see someone looking harried, upset, rushed, or even slightly sad. It is very infectious, and one can’t help but smile along and stroll again, giving up “walking” entirely.

Upon arrival in Como, we bought our train tickets to Florence (SO expensive!! About $65 for a 3 hour train journey) and sat down to a sandwich and beer. The train itself was comfortable, fast, and efficient. And containing four men sitting opposite us who made it their goal to flirt tirelessly with us (well, primarily Hillary when I was napping) for the entire journey. They couldn’t speak a word of English, we couldn’t speak Italian, but somehow it was all very funny. As we went to disembark the train…one of the 4 guys got up with us too, even though they were travelling on to Naples. Hillary and I were a little nervous at what he was going to do…but apparently, his sole intention was to carry our luggage for us off of the train with nothing more than a smile. We were both melted at his gentleman like behavior, and mourned the lack of such men in the USA…

The heat hit us as we walked through the train station. It was 7pm and about 88 degrees. Whew! We had a 15 minute walk through the very busy city before we eventually found and checked into our hostel. It was perfect: clean, welcoming, cute, and very well maintained. We immediately bonded with the other two girls in our dorm: Robyn from Oz, and Laura from….SEATTLE! – and after a refreshing and much needed shower…we set off into the hot evening in search of the perfect Florentian meal.

As we walked towards the city centre, the girls told us that all of Florence’s main attractions lay within easy walking distance of each other, and that all we had to do was take this “via” in a straight line from the hostel and all would be very easy to find. That was when we turned a corner and were literally blown away by the Duomo, (meaning Cathedral in Italian) appearing suddenly and without any warning, spectacular in its sheer giant proportions. Hillary and I stood, silent, and open mouthed for some time. I’d never seen anything like it. It’s the 4^th largest cathedral in the world, and is striking in its ornate facade as well as white, green, and pink exterior. Nothing could prepare you for the sight, photos simply do not do it justice. Wonderful.

Happily for me, we all had a lovely dinner at a Trattoria aptly named “Anita”! Again, the pasta, wine, and olive oil brought tears to our eyes and yelps of joy to our throats.

After dinner, Robyn gave us all a little impromptu guided tour of the many piazzas in Florence, abundantly littered with glorious statues, fountains, cafes, and monuments that you get tired of sighing. We also visited the famous Ponte Vecchio– a bridge crossing the river that unusually contains storefronts along its length.

After a packed day (both with food and walking) we slept very hard indeed.

And we did. Italy never fails to satisfy culinary desires. We ordered a mozzarella, basil, tomato salad and a pizza, sitting in the open air cafe overlooking the water without a care in the world. It was straight out of a movie.

Upon settling into our Vino Blanco, we were joined by some gregarious English-Polish travellers who were lots of fun to converse with. Ben, only 24, owned a house in Menaggio (to which, I obviously questioned “Does that come with a boat?”) and lived in Tanzania. They promised to call us later to partake in some social revelry, especially since everything in town closed around 9pm.

Hillary and I headed back to the boat pier and took the 15 minute trip across the lake to the famous village of Bellagio. This village was the inspiration for the famous Bellagio hotel in Las Vegas, incidentally. We had a gloriously lazy afternoon, strolling its narrow cobbled streets, climbing its winding stairs and alleys, looking at its shops of silk, jewelry and leather, and of course, eating more food. Every corner turned revealed another postcard perfect scene.

Heading back to Menaggio, we checked into the hostel and then wandered back to town for dinner(Hillary and I both agree that we could eat literally the entire day away here. The food is that good). Settling into two heaping plates of steaming pasta, insalata mixta, and vino rosso de la casa, we were happy bunnies. The rest of the evening was spent strolling along a moonlit lake that begged for romance, kissing, and hand holding. Alas, Hillary and I had to make do with one another (for company, that is, not kissing). Calling it an early night (Hill was still a bit jet lagged), we crashed into our dorm room beds, full of excitement at the prospect of tomorrow’s adventures.