Trains, Buses, Mormons, and Champagne: A Daytrip

We learned a little something about public transportation today: it sucks. Systems in Italy don’t seem to have any sort of clear organization, schedule, plan etc. that would make it at all simple for potential users to figure it out. Even the Italians we met along our way yesterday agreed. So let me back-track – Colleen, Allie and I decided to go for a roommate daytrip to San Gimignano. We had been to this small town with the school program but that was the terribly raining day when no one had umbrellas remember? So we wanted to return and really see this place for what it is: a tiny village of cafes and pottery shops on the top of a hill, notable for its seven tall towers that stand prominently above the Tuscan countryside. The views were even amazing in the rain/fog, so we knew it would be spectacular on this 60-degree beautiful day. Sounds great right? Well, we had to make it there first.

There is a bus that runs every hour from Florence to San Gimignano; we hopped on the 12:40 out of the city, and the information guy at the station told us we had to switch buses in Siena. Or so we thought he said. The ride should take about an hour, he told us. We were excited and chatty, boarding the bus then putting on our ipods to relax and take in the countryside on our way. At some point, we stopped in a town called Poggibonsi, where the station hosted signs saying a bus to San Gimignano would leave from there in the next ten minutes. We were indecisive and finally stayed on our bus, since we’d been told to switch only in Siena. As the bus pulled away, we watched the signs for San Gimignano (only 12 kilometers away) fly by and disappear as signs for Siena cropped up – about 25 kilometers away…And suddenly we were no longer in small towns, but back on a highway, heading for Siena and clearly away from our destination. Confused, we pulled out ipod headphones off and started to get annoyed. Where are we going? Why was San Gimignano the other way? We finally reached Siena and I asked our bus driver which bus to take to San Gimignano. He looked at me funny and said the town had been a long time ago, we were supposed to get off and switch in Poggibonsi. Fabulous. He flagged down a passing bus that read “San Gimignano” on its front, we scrambled off and fled across the middle of the road to our new bus, all its passengers staring at the three American girls running, lost, from bus to bus. Ten minutes, fifteen, twenty-five go by and we are sure we must be close. Suddenly we are in the hills and see a town looking much like San Gimignano atop a hill. This is us! The bus stops at the hill’s bottom and we stay on, thinking it will drive up and stop also at the top. But no, it pulls away and heads back into the main roads, away from San Gimignano. We missed it. AGAIN.

Or so we think. At the next stop, we realized we’d back-tracked to the Poggibonsi area, where this bus again stopped. We got off, thinking we’d have to switch here, and I asked the driver as an after-thought which new bus to take. He gave me a similar look as the other one, and told me to stay on this one – didn’t we see that the front said “San Gimignano”? True, very true. So we got back on and headed towards our town. We sat in the front three seats of the bus and told the driver to tell us, explicitly, when we had reached San Gimignano. The hulking blue bus wound through the beautiful farms and hills, by herds of sheep and little cream-colored villas, and finally – finally – we hit San Gimignano. Three hours after leaving Florence, we hop off the bus, somehow still excited and SO happy to be there. A one hour trip had turned into three, and yet it had been a gorgeous ride and we were all in the confusion together.

We strolled through the single main street of San Gimignano, stopping in ceramic shops and taking note of restaurants for dinner later. At the end of the main road, a gravel path leads visitors to an overlook that looks out at the whole countryside. The sun was out and on this clear day, Italy looked inspired by a postcard. The three of us sat on the edge of the cliff and took in the view, taking pictures of each other finally seated in our little San Gimignano. We walked even further, up to the tower poking above the horizon, where you can climb up and see even better views. Later, we stopped for dinner and had delicious bruschetta, pasta and of course hot chocolate – pure liquid hershey’s in a cup. It was a great reward from our tough travel.

And it wasn’t over yet! Now we had to get back to Florence. Sounds easy enough? Think again. Our driver who finally dropped us off in San Gimignano had told us to switch in Poggibonsi on our way back to Florence. We successfully bought tickets and hopped on the bus to Poggibonsi at 7pm, tired and yearning for home. The bus arrived soon in Poggibonsi, where we got off and saw that a bus left for Florence in ten minutes, at 7:35. Well, 7:35 came and went, and suddenly the Florence bus on the schedule disappeared from the list. No bus ever came. The next was at 8:15. And so we waited, again. At around 8:00, Allie came running up to me from inside the station, with two Italian boys in tow. These buses on the list are only regional, they had told her. What we saw on the bus list that said “Firenze” – or Florence – was only a street in a small nearby town called “Strada via Firenze.” The next bus to Florence was in over an hour, at 9:15. But, good news! We could also take a train, if we wanted, and they would even help us buy our tickets from the Italian-language machine. There was no way we were waiting another hour for a bus, and so we relented. It turned out one of the guys was American and the other Italian – they were Mormon missionaries on a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ throughout Italy. Apparently, their mission extends to helping lost American girls buy train tickets back home. They were very helpful in their spiffy matching suits, and shook our hands politely before leaving. And so we waited, again. Half an hour until our train, and this time, we were getting on the right one and going HOME. We sat alone in the station playing word games on a cold bench, until a group of four Italian men walked in carrying about two bottles of champagne and wine in their pockets. A few yards away, they popped them open and joked with one another in Italian, laughing and peeking over at us, sad and tired on our bench. Finally, the crew walked over with plastic cups and asked if we’d like a drink. Why, yes! We were enthusiastic. They popped open a new bottle of champagne right there and poured us each a generous cup. It was a good end to a long day, as we hopped on the train back to Florence with our new friends and spent the ride sharing their wine (which, interestingly, they actually made themselves) and communicating in a fun mix of Italian, English and Colleen’s Spanish. After a disastrous two trips, it actually ended up being a really fun day. We were finally heading back to Florence, and this time there was champagne. Phew!

So now it’s Sunday and we are beat from a long weekend. My roomie Brooke from GW had visited on Friday and we had a great time hanging out at a club we frequent in Florence. Good times and a familiar face! Today, I’ll be holing up in the apartment to finish my art work for Sketching class, maybe watch a movie, and eventually venture out to buy groceries. Only another week and a half until spring break!