Jaded
Ok so I’ve become the typical jaded new yorker. After only a little more than two weeks, I needed to get out of this beautiful but tinyrenaissance town. A girl can only take so much sepia toned renaissance architecture, amazing churches and beautiful paintings of mary and the darling baby jesus. So I took everyone’s advice and headed on over to the beautiful Tuscan town of Siena, which should not be missed. Upon arrival, after a 90 min train ride of listening to three germans and their constant gutteral chattering and eating of ripe tuna fish sandos, and a confusing figure it out for yourself nyc style bus ride, I arrived in the quaint town of Siena. A lovely town of sepia toned renaissance architecture, amazing churches and beautiful paintings of mary and the darling baby jesus.
I made my way to the famed Piazza del Campo, the large shell shaped piazza of pink brick and sat in the warm sun, taking it all in. I tried to sit quietly by myself and write in my journal, but after catching a (Im sure very nice) japanese girl videotaping me and then a creepy old man in red lederhosen snapping a photo of me, I decided to explore, knowing something in this town had to be more interesting than a girl sitting alone writing in her little black book. I made my way down to the main palazzo to discover that the belltower was actually open for exploration. So after waiting for nearly an hour in line (at which point it became battle of the wills between myself and my bladder), the verde line came on and it was time to ascend the 503 narrow stone stairs of the tower that had been built some time around 1344.
I am forever grateful for my stubborn nature, for it proved to be an amazing experience. Over 320 feet high, one is rewarded the steep and sometimes clausterphobic trip up with unbeleivable 360degree views of the carved Tuscan landscape that has inspired sensitive artists for as long as written history. In all directions, one can see the winding medievel streets carved thru the ancient walled city, green rolling hills and blue skies dappled with puffy white clouds. I took many pictures, as did the others, but it was interesting to note how very few actually stopped to take in the views with their own imaginations. Snap snap click away went the nikons and canons but seldom did they pause and breathe it all in to preserve for their own memory to come. I am wondering if when they pull it all up on their digital memory, will they be able to remember the smell of the ancient warm breeze or the sound of the drums in the piazza below and the taste of the air that has already circulated through the mouths of noblemen and commenwealth alike.
In addition to the spectacular views, I was most struck during the experience on my way down the steep steps trying to hold on by the way that after hundreds of years the human touch can wear down hard rough stone and make it smooth buttery soft rounded and ready for the next trusting hand to come and make its path their own.
I explored siena some more, ate some gelato, and made my way back to the train to travel back ‘home’ to Firenze in perfect timing to catch the sunset on the warm Tuscan landscape made famous in Bertoluccis cinematically stunning if not great Stealing Beauty. Today I was going to try to make it to Sunday mass, but fearful of spontaneous firey combustion in such a sacred place, I layed out in the sun and tried on sexy italian lingerie instead.
Is anyone tired of me saying Tuscan landscape yet??
