Siena
After lunch in San Gimignano we caught a bus a train and another bus and found our hotel in Siena, yet another lovely medieval town. After dinner (gnocchi with truffle sauce and tiramisu) we headed to the main piazza where they were having the celebration/feast for the neighborhood that won the Palio, a famous horse race held every year in Siena. The neighborhood that wins gets this huge party in the piazza and bragging rights for the whole next year. It was total luck that we were there the same weekend.
The next day we went to the duomo museum and saw a lot of beautiful art and great views from the top. Next, we went inside the actual duomo, which was gorgeous inside and outside. One of the prettiest churches I’ve seen in Italy. Finally, we went to an AC Siena soccer game. The game itself was pretty uneventful (0-0 tie), but it was fun to hang out and watch from the cheap seats with the obnoxious Italian fans. After the game we took a bus and two trains and finally got back to Padova at 11 completely exhausted.
Various points in this weekend confirmed what I’ve been thinking for a while about Italy. There are two things that America does better than Italy every single time. First, public restrooms. Public restrooms in italy are few and far between, and when you find one it usually a. costs money and b. is completely disgusting. The alternative is running into a bar and buying something. Of course, the easiest thing to buy is a bottle of water… vicious cycle. One of the few times I’m really happy about the Americanization (?) of Italy is when I see a McDonalds with a nice bathroom. The second thing America always wins at is crowd control. Italians don’t really value lines or order much. Example: To get to the top of the duomo museum you had to climb two incredibly narrow spiral staircases. There were constantly people trying to go up and down, and the only system for organizing the flow of people was for someone to yell either “I’m coming up” or “I’m coming down” in whatever language they spoke and hope whoever was on the other side listened to them. Often they did not, and my friends and I ended up clinging to the pole in the middle of the spiral standing on about an inch of stair while people tried to get by. I never thought I’d say I missed lines, but smashed between a big old german man and a rather smelly Italian man, I was thinking it.
