Italy Day 17: Where Did The Time Go?

Each night this trip, I've wound down and relaxed by listening to my audiobook before I go to sleep.  To the surprise of someone who has so much trouble falling asleep, at some point, I inevitably would doze off to the droning voice of the reader.  It last night, however, the climax of my book played, and kept me up well into 1am territory. Eventually the agitation and excitement the story wrought were becoming so much that I just turned it off, left wired and alert, and contemplating the events that just unfolded. Should have listened to something more boring...oh well.

The late night left me feeling groggy in the morning, but I can always depend on my hunger to rouse me out of bed.  We got down to the same place, Aristide, by no later than 10am, and ordered veggie egg scrambles.  Maddie got her hot chocolate, and I upgraded to a "Big" cappuccino, deciding yesterday's "regular" size just wasn't cutting it.  It appears I'm sliding headfirst down this slippery, coffee-lubricated slope even faster than I thought.  

Fueled by a good breakfast (best scramble I've ever had), and with a bag of fruit in hand, we headed back to get ready for the day.  We decided to begin with a hike along the alternate route (less popular, much steeper, and FREE) from Manarola to Riomaggiore.  As we climbed the interminable series of nearly waist-high steps to the top of the ridge separating the two towns, we passed hikers of every shape and size wearing every many of clothing, some overkill, many "under kill"....if that's a word to mean the opposite of overkill.  I felt terrible for the few people we saw looking miserable, many of them in some variation of inappropriate sandal.  It was fairly rocky terrain, with loose scree-like debris in parts.  I've never been on a steeper scenic trail than that route up the ridge, and it made for an awesome morning workout.

Starting the climb looking back at Manarola

Steep, never-ending steps

Still climbing, looking back again at the view

And finally, Riomaggiore

Happy hikers once again

Up and down the ridge to Riomaggiore, we were strolling into the train station some 45 minutes later.  We then took the train to Corniglia, where we picked up the same delicious sandwiches from before to quell our hiker hunger.  We took those down to the marina, our favorite swimming spot we've come across, and staked out a wide flat rock on which to enjoy our lunch.  For the rest of the afternoon, we snacked on fruit, read our books, and just chilled. The sporadic cloud cover kept us a perfect cool temperature, such that we didn't even venture into the water until the sun broke through in full force for a brief period.  At that point, Maddie and I made our way onto a large boulder we'd seen people jumping off of, and we followed suit.  We repeated the jump a few times until the wind picked up and prompted us to dry off and warm up a bit.  We spent a good three hours down there, and it was just what we wanted.

Soon, it was time to head back up, and then back down the 382 (plus or minus a few) steps to the train station.  We arrived back in Manarola at 6pm, leaving us an hour to get ready for dinner.  We had made reservations at what our host and trip advisor seemed to agree was the best restaurant in town (which, we were pleased to see, does not mean most expensive!), Trattoria dal Billy.  We leisurely got ready and walked the 5 minutes there, enjoying the setting sun over the horizon.  Both Maddie and I noticed and remarked that the clouds seemed different here.  This could be a facet of our vacation mindset, where everything is new, and we are more inclined to take delight in every little detail.  But I guess if I think about the cloudscape, something I don't normally do, it really did feel unique.  The sky was a layer after layer of seemingly different types of clouds, with a white hazy base, ethereal streaks, and puffy masses closer to earth ranging from pure white to dark gray.  Maddie said it reminded her of what she imagined the sky to look like in "The Voyage of the Dawn Treader," consistent with the fantasy quality I sensed.  

At dinner, we were greeted with what we would soon identify as the best service of the trip, as well as some of the best food and best views.  It was a night of bests.  Lots of good bread with olive oil and what I thought was normal balsamic vinegar but turned out to be a delicious, sweeter condensed balsamic syrup that was SO GOOD.  Maddie ordered a black truffle pasta, I ordered a tomato shrimp pasta, and we shared the best salad of the trip and a half bottle of wine.  Some tiramisu to top it off, and we were in heaven.  We relished the meal, our last blissful moments of unencumbered vacation before we would have to set about packing and planning our departure.  

Excited for dinner

And this view!

Pasta pasta pasta

Gotta eat your veggies, right?

The rest of the night was dreary and robotic by comparison, as we packed slowly, but efficiently, coming to terms with the imminent end of our Italian adventure.  While there is certainly an element of sadness to a trip like this coming to an end, I cannot say that I feel sad, disappointed, or any other negative emotion at all.  I feel energized, excited, and supremely grateful for the experiences we've had, the food we ate, and the sites we saw.  Between two major touristic destination cities, a remote mountain experience, and a relaxing finish on the sunny coast, I think we balanced our vacation objectives really really well.  There's no avoiding the back-to-reality sigh to come, but in many ways, I'm looking forward to being home in San Francisco.  It's been almost two whole months since I've been settled in SF.  A big part of me missed my routines, my exercise regimen, my school, the simplicity of habit I enjoyed all last year.  But most of all, I've missed that sense of normalcy that comes with enjoying these things in the comforting presence of Maddie. She had a hectic month of traveling for work in July, at the end of which I left for home to officiate Matt's wedding and prepare for the JMT, which was hampered by the grief of John's passing, and then finally this wonderful, European vacation.  Traveling with Maddie this month has been another dream come true, and now I think we are long overdue for curling up on the couch and binging something on Netflix.

Italy Day 16: Town Hopping

Boy did I sleep in.  It wasn't so much a late morning as it was a continuously deep night's sleep.  We were out of our place and sitting inside our decided breakfast spot by 10am.  It was on our jaunt down the hill that the ever scintillating aroma of coffee gripped my senses, and this time, it didn't let go.  While Maddie delighted in her above average hot chocolate and croissant, I chowed down on a delicious veggie egg scramble and, get this, a CAPPUCCINO.  It marks the first time I've ordered coffee for myself, and I must say here and now, I'm scared.  I'm scared I'm headed down the not-inexpensive road of developing a coffee habit.  I'm going to let future, not-on-vacation Graham deal with that issue when he gets home, and just see where this thirst for coffee takes me.

Breakfast time

With a hearty breakfast down the hatch, we walked down to the marina and sat on our perch in the shade, with the area almost to ourselves as swimmers had not come out for the day yet.  We read our books in peace, listening to the waves crash against the jetty.  It was yet another pristine lounging session.  As nice as it was, we wanted to see some more of the Cinque Terre, so we decided to pack our bag and head up to Monterosso to lounge on the only actual beach in the 5 towns.  I ran down to the little market, bought a boatload of fresh fruit for the day, and we headed out.

After yesterday, and with a good night's sleep under our belts, today's hectic train ride barely registered on our nuisance meter. We hopped off the train and pretty much straight down the nearest set of steps, seizing on a small sliver of available sand real estate.  The next couple of hours consisted of the typical beach routine of reading while the sunscreen soaks in, going in the water, coming out of the water, and snacking on fruit (grapes grown on the very hills behind us) while drying off again...and then repeating the process multiple times over.  It was exactly what we wanted.  As our fruit cache dwindled, we decided to hop on a train to the next town down, Vernazza.

Beach time

Here we picked up a croissant for Maddie and a roll for myself to continue our snacking while we staked out a prime perch at the marina in which to bask.  And we repeated the process of going in, coming out, snacking and reading.  Another few hours of this and we were ready for dinner.  We took one of Maddie's co-worker's pieces of advice and made sure to show up early to a restaurant he recommended called Al Castello.  Call me Sherlock Holmes, but I'm guessing it's named after the castle in whose side the restaurant is nestled.  Either way, the views were unbelievable, and we had a perfect spot to watch the sun set over the coast.  Some wine, a salad to share, spaghetti with tomato and basil for Maddie, and a whole grilled sea bass for me made for a wonderful dinner in an even more amazing setting. 

Try to ignore the other diners in the photo

Vernazza sunset

The marina

Good times

More sunset

Maddie loves posing for photos...obviously

Soooo good!

We finished just in time to catch the train back to Manarola, where we walked around the marina some more.  Nighttime feels so enchanting in these little villages, I just can't get over it.  And with all that lounging, we are surprisingly very ready to call it a night! Only one more full day left!  Perhaps a hike to Riomaggiore?  More swimming in Corniglia? We'll see!

Good afternoon from Vernazza

Italy Day 15: The Day I Lost Faith In The Italian Train System

I am not the kind of person whose memories are easily tarnished by negative events.  Even as recently as last month's premature John Muir Trail exit, I recall one of the most emotionally burdened weeks of my life with a certain fondness and almost nostalgia.  The pain persists--boy does it persist--but those treasured moments of topping a pass and enjoying a sunset are the substrate that form the general tone of the memory in my consciousness.  I would not assert that I am unique or special in this sense, but I do feel like a happier person because of this glass-half-full mode of recall.  It is for this reason that I am not worried about today's events marring my memory of the Cinque Terre.  Even as I write this some 6 hours after the fact, the circumstances seem so trivial, almost whiny, that I laugh about it.  But we all have those days waking up on the wrong side of the bed.  And among those days, we all have experienced the added misfortune of things not going your way.  For a brief period this afternoon, sandwiched before and after by some incredibly fun times, we had one of those types of days.

Last night's buggy dinner left me, well, for whatever reason, a bit nauseous.  Our original plan to use the night to make the next day's plans became us curled up in bed with me trying to forget the word "caprese" (sadly I'm afraid I will not be enjoying this hallmark Italian appetizer for a while). We fell asleep with our room in shambles and no concrete idea of what the morning would bring.  For two compulsive planners, I should have known this would not bode particularly well.  Maddie tried waking me in the morning, but my Benadryl-induced sedation made rousing me an uphill, very much losing battle.  

Eventually, when it hit crunch time o'clock to get checked out, I bolted into action, and our lack of planning made for a decidedly stressful morning.  We were checking out at 10am but couldn't check in to our new BnB until 1pm one town over in Manarola.  Though slightly nervous about leaving our bags unattended in the original place, we decided to hike our way to Manarola along the scenic route Maddie read about, take the 3 minute train ride back to Corniglia to collect our bags, and take them to our new place via train to check in.  The hike seemed like a very fun way to kill a couple of hours, and the short train rides seemed reasonable. 

Time to hike!

It was a uniquely blazed trail the way it wound through the hills--very fun!

The hike was incredible.  Fueled by a light breakfast of muesli, fruit and hot chocolate, we began with a long climb toward Volastra. It took almost an hour uphill to reach the little hilltop town, and we were rewarded with sweeping views of the Ligurian coast in both directions.  We passed several tours and hiking groups along the way, outfitted as if they were embarking on the JMT themselves, with hiking poles, wide brimmed hats, and attires that made me feel entirely stylish. It was another 45 minutes at least down switchbacks along uniquely carved trail to Manarola.  We located our new BnB, thinking it would be easier to do now than with our luggage, and ambled down to the train station.  

Happy hiker

Looking back at Corniglia

Down into Manarola

Grey skies but no rain for us today

Hungry and with legs still quivering a bit from what turned out to be a more strenuous hike than we anticipated, we waited in the hot sun for over half an hour while our train was delayed 20 minutes.  This is where I think our patience was beginning to wear a little thin with the trains.  There was a fermenting level of anxiety about leaving our stuff unattended at our old place as well as getting back to Manarola to check in at a reasonable time.  Added to this festering worry was the fact that this was the most crowded place we have been.  Worse than Venice or Florence, packing into a standing room only train with all the other sweaty passengers made the experience all the more uncomfortable.  All for a 4 minute train ride!

Because apparently pick pockets are ninjas in Italy...

...who knew

Once in Corniglia, we hustled up the 300 something steps and into the main corridor, stopping to get sandwiches because we were ravenous at this point.  We were relieved to find our stuff still there and untouched, and we sat down prepared to devour our food when we realized the last train for an hour and a half would be leaving soon.  We had 13 minutes to get through the town, down the steps, and to the train station with our luggage in tow.  We were up for the challenge, but just barely.  We weaved through the crowds, sweating and panting, and began the laborious descent to the walkway leading to the station.  Going against the current of tourists flooding out of the train station steps, we missed our train by no more than one minute.  Shoulders and arms burning, starving, utterly defeated, and faced with waiting in the sun for another hour and a half, we sat dejectedly and nibbled on our consolation sandwiches.  Adding insult to injury, while the train we missed left perfectly on time, the one that eventually took us back to Manarola was another 30 minutes late and forced us to jostle with other tourists just to make it onto the train with our luggage.  It's hard to convey here, but it was just a rotten afternoon of train madness, poor timing, and borderline heat exhaustion. 

Once in Manarola, we mustered what energy we could, and climbed the hill to our BnB, huffing and puffing all the way to the front door.  Once inside, we collapsed on the bed, almost unable to process the blissful comfort of being able to recline in a shady cool room.  This marked the end of our toil and the beginning of an extremely pleasant evening of strolling around our new town.  

Our spirits recovering, we set out almost immediately for the marina to cool off.  On our way down, stopped by a small, trendy-looking focaccia store, the type of establishment I'm realizing is most common among the five towns, characterized by a variety of baked focaccia ready to be reheated behind the display case.  Instead of going with my gut and getting the pesto one, I asked for what the server described as rice, farro, and vegetables, something that sounds entirely up my alley.  Once in my hand, however, I realized it was anything but what she described.  In the small take-away dish, I held an abomination, an insult to sustenance around the globe.  For every morsel of sumptuous Italian goodness I'd consumed thus far, this one vessel of garbage made me almost convulse with disgust.  In the most unappetizing 5 euros of food on the entire continent, I held a mixture of gummy rice, lukewarm chunks of hard boiled egg, grey-green mushy vegetables, some sort of mystery fishy ingredient I'm guessing was anchovy, and...wait for it...cut up hotdog.  She handed me a packet of olive oil, as if smothering the slimy mess in oil would somehow make it less inedible.  Ever the optimist, I took one bite, reluctantly swallowed, and in hopes of that bite somehow being a fluke, took a second bite.  But I was much too generous in awarding that monstrosity a second go-around.  I pitched it moments later, praying that those two attempts wouldn't leave me bound to the toilet hours later.  Maddie was nice enough to give me half of her tomato focaccia.  Much better call.  She's an angel.

Guarded from the turbulent surf by a jetty, the marina offered a neat little network of swimming holes that blended with the cliffs and ledges on all sides.  It looked like a very organically designed wave pool, and it wasn't long before Maddie and I staked out a little spot on a rocky ledge and leapt into the very blue water.  We stayed in for a little bit, just floating in the surf until we decided to climbed back to our perch and read our respective books.  When we couldn't ignore our hunger any longer, we packed up and headed back up the hill to change for dinner. 

Manarola marina

Some fun swimming

We landed on a place Maddie saw on TripAdvisor, I'm forgetting the name already.  We ordered some wine, some trofie pesto pasta for Maddie, the lobster fettuccine for me, and a neatly presented sampling of mini tiramisus.  It was a really nice, budget-friendly meal, and afterward we strolled down to the waterfront to walk around.  The town lights emanating from rooms along the water give the town the quintessential postcard look you might find by Google imaging the Cinque Terre.  The weather was perfect, the light soft and romantic, and the sound of the waves soothing, as we walked along the sparsely traveled path around the cliff north of the main square.  Hand in hand, we just ambled for a while, taking it all in, before finally turning back, grabbing a smoothie from one of the few open shops, and returning to our cozy flat.  I say "flat," mainly because that's what all the AirBnB reviewers call it...is that a European word for apartment? It doesn't have a kitchen so does that qualify it as an apartment? I am admittedly and obviously clueless here.

Lobster fettuccine

Trofie pesto pasta (apparently this style of pasta was invented in this region, I'm told)

Pretty cool tiramisu presentation, no?

Manarola by night

I think being able to call this afternoon the "lowpoint" of the trip is a testament to the level of success and good fortune we've enjoyed abroad. Even at our most irritable, we turned around a sour note and made an unforgettable day out of it.  Tomorrow we'll treat ourselves to some more well-deserved swimming time, taking special precaution to minimize the amount of train travel!

Italy Day 14: Sea To...The Same Shining Sea We Started At...Except Across The Country...Peninsulas Are Weird That Way

Another early morning today, but the alarm didn't feel like quite as hard a slap in the face.  We were up and ready in quick order, double and triple checking the apartment for remnants of our scattered belongings, and finally shutting the door to our lovely Florentine apartment, on our way to the Cinque Terre.  Opting to save money by not getting a cab, we walked the 25 minutes to the train station, which, moderately strenuous as it was, gave us one last long chance to really soak in the city.  We arrived at the station ahead of schedule, only to discover our train was lagging behind it by 20 minutes.  We hadn't rushed to make it on time, so the inconvenience wasn't as painful, but it left us the narrowest of windows to catch our first transfer.  

On board to Pisa for that transfer, among the numerous empty seats around us, a large, sweaty man asked Maddie to move her backpack so he could sit next to her.  What was until that point a pleasant ride, became borderline nauseating moments later when the stench, like a puppy straggling behind its owner, announced itself by plopping into the foursome of seats we now shared.  I would never be the one to complain about someone sitting down with us, smelly or not, but it felt bizarre that he hadn't chosen any of the open seats around us.  As it happened, his odor, humidity, and warmth that permeated our little section made the ride...interesting.  I even caught another fellow passenger's wide, incredulous eyes, apparently in response to the same malodorous situation.  Once in Pisa, we greeted fresh air as a long-lost friend, hustling to hop on the next train.  It was only a couple extra euros to get a first class ticket on this leg, and the contrast in consecutive train experiences made the splurge (if you can even call it that) worth it ten times over.  Before long, we were comfortably in La Spezia, boarding our final, heinously crowded train to Corniglia.  

From the train station, it was some 300 steps up to the town itself, a small collection of iconically Ligurian buildings perched above the dramatic, rocky coves below.  The workout of carrying all of our luggage up the stairs was a rewarding way to start this final leg of the trip, though we learned after the fact that a bus regularly shuttles people to the town.  Oh well.  With a rest at the top, we entered the charming confines of Corniglia, one of the smaller, less crowded of the five towns, and eventually found our apartment.  To say the place lived up to expectation is an understatement.  We put down our things, walked outside and savored one of the most breathtaking views of the trip.  

From outside our place

Without much hesitation, we went back inside, changed, grabbed a sandwich and a couple of juices, and walked down to the marina to take a swim.  It was almost exactly what I pictured, but even better.  As the clouds overhead shielded the sun from delivering too much heat, I laid down on the warm rocky ledge beside the water in what felt like perfect temperature equilibrium.  Something to know about me, something I've mentioned several times in previous hiking posts, is that I am incredibly finicky when it comes temperature.  I can and have endured the elements, but in my day to day life, I am rarely, if ever, perfectly comfortable.  Either a breeze makes me a little too cold, or the light sweater makes me too warm.  I don't really complain about it much, but Maddie and my friends joke about my princess-like preferences.  Today, though, and all the way through the night, I was in temperature nirvana.  Whereas the junction between air and skin is always a discernible sensation, it's existence continually signaled by waves of heat, a chill in the air, or a light breeze, today it did not.  Today's breeze wasn't what I would call refreshing, as it was barely noticeable, it just perfused me with comfort on a level I have never felt.  I know this is a lofty way to expound on the weather being good, but it wasn't just good. It was uniquely perfect.

Time for a swim

The water was warm, but not tropical-warm, just comfortable enough to be refreshing and not make your teeth chatter after a while.  We swam for a bit, then parked ourselves on a ledge by the water and read for a couple of hours, getting lost in our books and our own heads.  We then packed up, and headed back up to our place, showered, changed, and went exploring.  We stopped by the market for a couple of snacks, and munched on those on the terrace of our apartment, reading and taking in the sea view.  

From the shared terrace

The terrace

Scott loves Corniglia

The hours passed, and we were ready to find some dinner.  We settled on an adorable, tony outdoor garden-like patio overlooking the ocean.  We ordered two vegetable soups and a caprese salad, and they ended up being the tastiest of those dishes we have had the whole trip, especially the salad.  The tomatoes had more flavor, the capers were enormous and subtle, and the mozzarella tasted...cheesier, if that makes sense...like there's the kind of mozz that doesn't taste like anything really, and then there's the mozz with the little bit of pleasant funk that lets you know it's cheese.  The downside of the night came when, well, when the night actually came.  As  darkness descended, so did the flys, or gnats or whatever they were.  They swarmed the light just above our table, and like kamikaze pilots they jettisoned into our water, fluttering helplessly in the olive oil, creating a veritable insect crust on the tomatoes and cheese.  And, as is my luck with the insect kingdom, they swarmed my face, filling every orifice and tickling every hair, leaving Maddie virtually untouched, mind you.  Part way through the salad, I had plucked off my last bug, and we just walked out, went to the register, paid and hastily made our way back to the room.  I was still shaking them out of my hair when I got back.  It managed to turn what would have been one of the best meals of the trip into easily one of the most revolting of my life.  I've eaten ants, crickets, and even one of those weird, why-does-this-exist scorpion-filled lollipops, but the flying insect mob is something I am becoming more and more averse to as I continue to have worse and worse encountered with them. 

Dinner and a sunset

Safe in our little oasis, I'm just exhausted and ready for what I can only pray is a bug-free bed.  Tomorrow we'll be moving one town south to Manarola for the last three nights.  Plenty of relaxation to ensue.  Goodnight!

Italy Day 13: Put It On The Pizza!

On a trip filled with firsts, today ushered in yet another one, our first cooking class.  With the faithful aid of Benadryl, I managed to get to sleep last night and stayed that way until I awoke to the compulsive urge to scratch those damn bug bites.  I'm suspecting they're of the mosquito variety, and hoping the inflammation dies down soon.  But with a solid 8 hours of sleep under my belt, I was quick to get up and ready to walk to our cooking class a few blocks away.  

We didn't eat anything, figuring there would be plenty of food on our plates this afternoon.  We arrived right on schedule and entered a large beautiful kitchen with lofted brick ceilings, just as the instructor was finishing setting everything up.  We were welcomed with our choice of water or coffee,  and we took a seat at the nicely set table.  Within the next 20 minutes, the other six members of the class arrived, all of them belonging to the same group of friends.  After introducing ourselves, we gathered around as Chef Marco demonstrated how to make our dough, with us trying to mimic his techniques.  It was a fun introduction getting our hands dirty in the kitchen!  

So. Excited.

I knead some pizza right about now

While our dough balls sat out to rise, he went about making us the first pizza variant of the session.  In a rectangular tart pan, he placed one thin layer of pizza dough, and then set about making the filling. In a generous pour of olive oil, he sautéed capers, anchovy fillets, garlic, hot chili flakes, and raisins, stirring them regularly as the kitchen was enveloped in one of the most enticing aromas I've ever smelled.  Once the anchovies dissolved into the oil--yes, they dissolve, and give the oil incredible umami, salty depth--he began dumping copious amounts of crisp romaine lettuce into the pan.  I've seen (and enjoyed!) variations of wilted spinach, but the humble romaine would never have occurred to me (fun fact, romaine lettuce has a great nutrient profile with lots of vitamin K, contrary to the notion that lettuce is "basically just water").  But it smelled amazing, so I my skepticism was almost immediately vanquished.  With the filling made, he layered it over the dough, placed another layer on top, and deftly folded the edges around to seal the creation before popping it on the floor of the oven.  Ten minutes later and we were sitting down to enjoy his romaine calzone with some champagne.  

We talked with other members of our group, learning they were all from various provinces in Canada, and we seemed to hit it off pretty well with them! They were an interesting bunch, and we shared our Italy itineraries, and rejoiced in the appetizing afternoon that lay before us.

Chefs for the day

Next it was time for us to try our hand at calzones.  I forgot to mention the incredible spread of ingredients that occupied the center of our large communal table, around which the eight of us chopped and kneaded.  Fresh, colorful vegetables, a generous assortment of meats, basil, marinated vegetables, vibrant tomato sauce, and mounds of various fresh cheeses.  It was an indecisive person's worst nightmare.  It was like my salad bar dilemma.  Let me explain.  I love salad bars, and I hate salad bars.  There are so many delicious choices that even when I feel like I'm only adding a little bit of one ingredient, when I do that with every ingredient, it ends up being way too big a salad.  Also, the bevy of choices invariably clouds my judgment of flavor profiles, often resulting in a hodgepodge clusterf*ck of items that do not mesh together.  Forgive the language, but for someone who loves both salads and cooking as much as I do, my inability to master salad assembly is pretty frustrating.  With this background in mind, it won't surprise you that my calzone--and later, pizza--was, to put it mildly, overloaded.  Onion, zucchini, fresh AND marinated mushrooms and peppers, ham, prosciutto, mozzarella, artichoke, capers, tomato sauce, garlic, basil, and fresh tomatoes all made their way inside that doughy pocket of love.  10-15 minutes of high heat later, and we sat down to enjoy our artisanal (read: ugly and amateurish) calzones with some good wine.

Too many toppings...just kidding, there's no such thing

BOOM

Post-calzone, we were then prepared to fetch our own dough and prepare our pan pizza.  I would say everyone overdid it on the amount of dough, although some may like an extremely thick crust.  In any case, we delicately rolled our airy dough balls into smooth flat rectangles, and assembled our pizzas in a similar fashion.  This process was slightly less daunting because, as I joked to the rest of the group, unlike encapsulated calzones, pizzas lack a "ceiling," leaving me to pile on as much topping fare as I wanted.  This, of course, provided amusement for the rest of them, as I added salami, spicy salami, olives, extra sauce, and ricotta to the already heinously long list of toppings.  It was the archetypal "everything" pizza, and it looked the part.  Perhaps the greatest satisfaction of the day came when, after poking fun at my over-doing it on the toppings, everyone looked at my baked finished product with envy, commenting how good it turned out.  Thank you, thank you very much.  Maddie kept hers impeccably simple and neat, some sauce, and perhaps two or three sparsely scattered toppings, a masterpiece in its own right.  

My before photo

Maddie's before photo

Slicing up my pie

A proud pizza baker

My beautiful food baby

And so we feasted on our culinary handiwork, managing only to consume a couple of slices before asking for tin foil to take the rest home.  Some more wine, some more socializing, and before we knew it, 3pm had crept up on us.  We thoroughly enjoyed the fun class, making some delicious food, and socializing with the fun and interesting group of fellow students.  With doggy bags in hand, we departed for home, stopping to drop off our leftovers before heading back out to peruse some shops last minute.  

After a relaxing couple of hours of walking around, I dropped Maddie off at the apartment and set off to explore by myself.  The original goal was to get some snacks for the travel days ahead of us, but I took this time to deviate from our normal street pattern, exploring new little alleyways and such.  I eventually made a ways past the Duomo, ordered a couple of smoothies to go--although I'm not tired of pasta, pizza, and sandwiches, I'm starting to crave fresh fruits and veggies every day--and headed back home sometime past 7pm.  We went out, grabbed a couple of sandwiches for the following morning, and returned home to pack.

And now, itchy and tired, I'm ready for bed.  It's an early morning tomorrow to get to Corniglia, our first stop in the Cinque Terre.  Florence has been absolutely amazing to us, and we will miss this place dearly.  But now it's off to the sea!

Italy Day 12: We're On A Bike

Our 6:30am alarm felt like a cruel prank this morning.  Like a farmer whose harvest were to go up in flames, the restfulness we had accrued on our rainy lounge day seemed entirely negated, undone with the iPhone's rattling default tone.  It was dark, and within moments of the lights assaulting our vision, my ghostly pallor and bloodshot eyes were starkly apparent. Deliriously tired, aching to slam my head back into the pillow, I chuckled to myself--laughter is often my method of choice for coping with early, miserable moments like this--and went about packing our bag for the day.  Thunderstorms were expected, so we best be prepared.

It was, if not a mad dash, then the next most frenzied description for an anxious walk to make it somewhere on time, to the train station.  Maddie had said we would catch the quickest train at 7:30, but when we arrived just in time, there was no such train.  Puzzled, with panic waiting in the wings, we retraced our steps to figure out what went wrong.  Ultimately, our haste had been for naught, as Maddie had mistaken our train to Pisa with a train from Lucca to Florence.  We were looking at numerous schedules the night before, so this is an understandable mixup to make, and it made very little difference because another, albeit slower, train would be arriving in 20 minutes.  

Dunno how I had the wherewithal to get out my phone to take pictures, as I barely remember taking this at all

But it was a beautiful morning, now that I look back on it...

I don't drink coffee, mostly because I don't like the taste (the smell on the other hand, now that's another matter).  I suppose coffee is somewhat like wine to me, in that it would be an uphill battle to begin to appreciate it.  Starting with a prolonged period of merely tolerating it, I'm guessing over time I would come to enjoy it. Now, I very much enjoy wine occasionally, but to go through that process all over again with coffee is a mildly daunting, tedious process I cannot will myself to undertake.  As for the subject of caffeine, I've made it this far without needing stimulants to get me going, and my sleep and digestive problems keep me preoccupied enough without adding another variable to my insomniac equation. It is on those rare mornings of insurmountable fatigue such as this, however, that I wish I liked coffee.  This passionate desire to want it clashed with my negative reaction to caffeine to an extent that made passing the countless cafes excruciating. Throughout the entire morning, afternoon and even into the evening, I would lean over to Maddie and whine, "I should really stop for some coffee." We both knew I wasn't going to get any, and the comment transmuted into the sort of inside joke that just made us both smile every time.  Getting a little sluggish on the last half mile stretch to the train station?  Should've grabbed a coffee...

Instead of perking myself up, I used the hour and a half train ride to nap, as has become my custom this trip.  Cars, no way. Planes, nope. But trains? I'm not sure if I'm always sleep-deprived when I'm on one, or if there is some yet unknown quality to the ride itself that escorts me directly to dreamland.  On our arrival in Pisa, we pretty much followed the scattered mass of fellow passengers donning DSLR's and cargo shorts to what was safe to assume was our mutual destination.  It was a little muggier in Pisa, and this might have added to the sort of grimy impression that initial walk gave me.  As we neared the piazza and leaning tower, though, the streets became gradually more inviting and lively.  And when we finally rounded a corner and spied the top of the tower, it jumped out at us how very crooked the structure was.  It most certainly did not disappoint on that score.  I suppose it's height under-delivered on expectations, but the ornate architecture of the tower, cathedral and baptistery together were mightily impressive.  The vast green, virgin lawn stood out against the greying sky and whitish buildings.  It really was a wonderful sight that alone would have been marginally worth the trouble of getting up so early.  What really cemented the value of our stop in Pisa were the hordes of other day tripping tourists there for the same reasons as us--to see the tower. 

Still looking half asleep

Whereas she always looks good

Now, in retrospect, I think I was aware of the corny, almost requisite pose holding up the leaning tower, but it didn't really cross my mind on our way there.  Upon joining the masses in that square, however, it became crystal clear that we couldn't go all the way there and NOT pose with the damn thing.  We eventually got off a couple of terribly cheesy, embarrassing prop shots of us trying only semi-successfully to line up our hands with the tower's edge.  But not before I took dozens of photos of other tourists doing the same thing, compiling them all in a steady stream of embarrassment on my snapchat story to hopefully give the sense of ridiculousness one might feel if ever given the opportunity to visit the tower.  And it was much easier to poke fun at everyone--including ourselves--until I marked myself as the crowd lunatic when I whipped my cooking pot out for its own photo op with the landmark.  No shame.  None whatsoever.

Almost nailed it

Scott showing off

Not embarrassing at all

Still laughing at the silliness of it all, we wandered back to the train station after finishing our breakfast we had packed.  Now it was on to Lucca.  My knowledge of historical context surrounding most of the places we've visited has been laughably slim.  And Lucca poses little exception.  One could argue that when so much context is lost on the observer, it is almost a waste.  And that argument is not unfounded, but we have enjoyed every second of our visit, learning bits and pieces as we go along--experiential learning, you might call it.  Anyway, the ancient walls that surround the heart of Lucca are broad, impressive and exciting in that they evoke the childhood wonder of a medieval castle.

Once inside, it's readily apparent why so many people enjoy taking day trips to this city.  It is in every way charming, much more relaxed and less crowded than Florence, but with numerous beautiful, imposing cathedrals and lively, breezy piazzas.  It was around 2pm when we breached the city walls, and we were ready for lunch.  Having looked up a few good spots, we settled on what turned out to be one of the fancier meals we've had, despite the cost being the same as most of the other spots we've tried.  Salted bread a notch above your average offering, white tablecloth--it was nice to see how the other half lives.  I had some fresh spaghetti with a tomato fish sauce, as well as a side of beans with olive oil. Maddie had a rich parmesan risotto with red wine reduction. It was absolutely wonderful.

Spaghetti with tomato fish sauce

Good ol' no bells and whistles beans

Risotto with wine sauce

Wandering around Lucca

After lunch, we located the nearest bike rental shop, having read ahead of time that it's a fun thing to do.  So for the next hour, and for only 6 euros, we rode our bikes on the wide path atop the giant wall, encircling the entire city a couple of times.  Having dressed for colder, stormier weather, I was almost disappointed that the weather remained what most people would classify as very pleasant.  But on most stretches, a reviving breeze swept our faces and made the whole experience a blast, with Maddie only slightly abusing the use of her bike's bell.  Once the hour was up, we strolled over to a reputable gelato place, which had admittedly tasty gelato, but it was overpriced and meagerly portioned.  Still all smiles, we wandered leisurely back to the train station and boarded for Florence.

Once back in our neighborhood, we tended to the 13 wretchedly itchy spider bites I've accrued during my stay here, poured ourselves a glass of wine, and relaxed until we were ready for dinner.  We then ventured to get pizza, realizing for the umpteenth time this trip that our destination was closed.  Undaunted, we simply crossed the local square to an appealing Osteria (Santo Spirito) and had what was for me the best meal of the trip.  They gave us bread with a delicious olive tepenade, and they had special balsamic sweet apple vinegar for dipping with oil.  We shared one of the best salads I could imagine--super straightforward and fresh--and Maddie ordered fresh made spaghetti with tomatoes and basil while I ordered fresh spaghetti with lots of sweet garlic, olive oil and chili flakes. It was fantastic!

Growing weary, we soon payed and walked the 2 minute walk to our place, where we got ready for bed. It's been a long day and my bug bites are driving me mildly insane, but it's yet another unforgettable day in Italy, and we're continuing to savor every moment.  

Tomorrow morning: a pizza making class!