T here are tons of torn up posters lining the walls of siena. the artist in me is drawn to the chaotic mix of color and type, and i love words in different languages. it’s the fonts. seeing these posters in italy strikes an accord with the film buff and cyclist in me too. while walking the tuscan streets, formed from dirt and cobbled marble, it’s hard to ignore images from “Ladri di biciclette.”

the film tells the story of a man who has been unemployed for months, and is finally given a job pasting up posters. the only catch is that he needs a bicycle to get from wall to wall, so his proud wife pawns the linens off of their own bed to purchase a bike. translated, the title “the bicycle thief” gives away what happens next. the poor man loses his new bicycle during the first day of work. without it, he and his son search the crowded streets of rome for the only thing that can give him back his dignity.

pasting up posters, and readying the ride

a tale of pride, enduring hardship and overcoming loss, this film is one of my favorites, and not just because of a bicycle. pick it up from your local video spot, netflix it, and share with a friend. note: it’s subtitled, but will not disappoint.

the gardens are very surreal, so after a few hours, and just before we began to question if we were having a bad acid trip, we picked up some paninis, and headed for the beach.

romans carve aqueducts (left), and nature carves hearts (right)

on our way, we found an ancient aqueduct, carved from a mountainside. to see first hand what the romans accomplished is amazing. without dynamite; only pick axes, and time, they carved with delicate precision. the aqueduct would divert water away from ships that would moor at the nearby harbor. now, all that remains of the harbor are piles of rubble, reavealing where the slips once were.

we made our way to the beach, where we finally ate our sandwiches and tossed a frisbee. we were playing with a guy who didn’t understand english at all, yet we had no trouble communicating, or having fun. it reminded me of how toddlers can just walk up to each another, not knowing the language, and still being able to connect.

after a little frisbee, lunch, and a getting our feet wet in the sea, we stopped by the small vacation town of orbotello. there, we checked out the antique flea market, window shopped and stopped for a gelato, where everyone generously offered a lick to share. no germophobes here!

the sun was about to set, and we were ready for the drive home. the people from becky’s work have been so kind, and have really helped us get aquainted with the area. we’ve been invited for another trek next week, and look forward to covering more uncommon ground with our warm hearted friends.

nothing get’s you ready for a drive on the autostrada like four beers. better make it eight.

the scarecrow from the wizard of oz would have been as confused as becky and i when we first began driving the roads of italy. “should we go left to siena, or should we go right?” we’re learning that the saying, “all roads lead to rome,” holds quite a literal truth for most cities here.

it hadn’t occurred to me, at all, that we were in prada land. i’m not big into labels, but i do appreciate fine, locally crafted goods. when i heard that one of becky’s co-worker’s was making his second trip to the factory this week, i figured it oughta be good.

i joined the road trip.

from siena, we drove for forty-five minutes through a few small towns, along the autostrata, and windy roads. during the ride, i imagined a structure as beautiful as the prada aoyama boutique in tokyo, and nestled in contrast to the green tuscan hills.

we approached a blinking light; the only landmark.

there, we turned right, and towards a seemingly out of place, and out of view industrial complex. we had arrived.

i guess in terms of factories, there are worse views, but i expected more than a tan metal structure. some glass, maybe a little concrete, and definitely some color. there’s lots of green from the hills to work with, but i digress. we got out of the car, walked through the gate, and got to shopping.

before i left siena, i told becky that i was gonna buy something completely rediculous; practical, yet gratuitous. prada hiking boots or running shoes came to mind, and so i explored. i was joking with becky, of course, but when i found the prada skis i couldn’t help but laugh. it wasn’t the fact that prada has their name on ski equipment. it was the fact that here i could buy skis, poles and boots, for less than the price of the jacket that i was eyeing. sigh, it was a nice jacket.

i kept looking.

through racks of denim, neckties, and shirts; shelves of handbags, wallets, and yesterday’s high fashion – there it was. a small, locally produced, fashionable and useful souvenir from our trip. the prada phone strap, complete with charm. in black with a brown heart (not pink), and a safe distance from the original price of 140.

done.

now get me outta there before i think twice about letting that jacket go.

d uring our stay in siena last year, we lived in the city center, and very close to the piazza del campo. unlike the hustle and bustle of san francisco and new york, free of trolleys, street cars and honking cabbies – del campo echoes with song, chatter, and people enjoying the public space until the wee hours of the morning. we were just far enough away, that the sounds of del camppo were dulled to an ambient roar.

our current flat is a long walk from the city center, and on the backside of a woodsey hill where a few other homes are nestled. without much traffic, be it by car, scooter or foot, it’s quiet here. our nights are silent and serene, with an occasional hoot from our neighborhood owl, as if to say – “it’s okay, i’m keeping a lookout.”

as dawn breaks, the silence of night is broken, and the birds begin to sing.

i don’t know much about birds, other than when it’s dead silent and they start chirping, it will wake you up. during our first week here, i found myself awake at 4:30 or 5 in the morning. refusing to stick things in my ears, i would lay there – either until i fell back asleep, or until my thoughts about the day carried me out of bed. usually, the latter.

so good morning, siena; buon giorno, world. i’ve got some coffee to brew and a bird to draw.

H ave you ever imagined what it would be like to walk a tight rope with an ipod booming with cars zooming along side you? Well folks, that’s my walk to work. There’s nothing like exhaust fumes and adrenaline to get you through the day. I just never knew how much I appreciated sidewalks.

This picture actually isn’t the most narrow part. Poor Todd didn’t want to stop and take a picture with all the cars racing by. We should wear a crossing guard vests, especially at night!

once the moka quieted down, i poured myself a cup and took a sip. this can’t be right, i thought. did i put too much in? did i burn it? why does it taste like i’m eating burned dirt? becky woke up, and came into the living room.

this coffee is awful, want a cup?

“no thanks,” she replied, “i’ll have some at work.”

for two days, i’d sat there, sipping my mud, struggling to get through each cup. “it’s okay,” i thought, “at least it will wake me up.” but it never woke me up. i tried brewing it differently. i’d brew it weaker, stronger, and even with different water. i criticized siena for it’s poor taste in coffee, and protested the idea of having to go to a bar for a decent cup of espresso. i was longing for a cup of capricorn’s moka java when it dawned on me.

this is not coffee.

i went back to the package and translated:

our toasted barley is roasted on wood coals using traditional methods passed on from generation to generation. it makes a light and delicious natural drink containing no stimulants, to be enjoyed by both adults and children, and particularly by those involved in sports. add milk to it and you will get a delicious drink called “cappucino senesino”

this mishap is right up there with the first time i tried kombucha, and chugged it like it was a cold; refreshing iced tea. moral: beware the temptation of appealing packaging, sometimes it has a bad aftertaste.

The checker said something to us we didn’t understand…. then he held up grocery bags and said “Quattro?”. Todd said, “si” and I said, “I don’t know how every many it takes”. As it turns out you have to buy grocery bags, that’s why he was asking. So we got 4 bags.

Then it was time to pay for produce. He picked up our pear and said to me, “Kaiser”. I had no idea what he was talking about. “Is he German?” So I went back to where we got the pear and found number on the sign. I came back and said “14” then drew a one and a four in the palm of my hand. He just kept saying, “Kaiser”. Then with a frantic grin, he motioned for me to follow him. He took me and Todd back to produce and showed us there is this little weighing machine that you put that number 14 into and it prints a sticker to tell you how much your produce costs. He printed our sticker and another lesson was learned. The pear was a Kaiser pear, by the way.

Besides Todd’s barley coffee mishap, we made some other interesting purchases. When we arrived home, we realized we had bought:

• Laundry softener instead of Laundry soap
• Barley tea instead of coffee
• Liquid dishsoap instead of the dishwasher detergent

the dishsoap, by the way, made a lovely rabid, foaming at the mouth, dishwasher in our kitchen – a good tip that we bought the wrong soap.

Our second trip to the store was yesterday. This time we brought and used our little Italian language book.

I didn’t think work would have had a car prepared for me so soon- but they did. I didn’t really know how to get home from work in car. I only knew how to get back and forth walking. Two friends at work volunteered to help me try to find my way home. (you can’t get there driving the same way you would walking because the path is too small for a car). We drove around for and hour and a half. Went down dirt roads we weren’t supposed to and got stuck in very small alleys that required about 20 minutes of maneuvering to get back out of. All in all it was a bust. The car ended up being driven back to work and a co-worker drove me home.

The next day I had to call the landlord to find the proper way. He told me the very unintuitive way home (we live down a dirt road that isn’t on any maps). A co-worker went with me to make sure it was the right way and it was. And I finally found my way home.