VRM VRM VRM VRM

Somewhere, an engine is turning over. Someone in the driver's seat is smiling to themself, satisified that it's finally working, after they've spent hours under the hood trying to get in running. That's what I feel like today.

Friday I got on a bus with a bunch of other kids from API (the company I went through for my study abroad) and we drove to the Tuscanny region. We went to a ceramics company and got a tour of the facility, with an explanation of the basic principles to making good hand-crafted ceramics. Temperatures for baking certain colors, speed of turning for different shapes, etc. I bought some finery, and we went on our way.

The bus rides were probably some of the best parts of the whole weekend, because I can't even describe how beautiful it is there. I tried taking pictures of it, and my camera wasn't good enough. I tried writing in my travel journal about it, and words failed me. Rolling hills of green, vineyards and crops traced across them in agricultural geometry that runs into bursts of treeline racing throughout the hills in sporadic populations, achingly tall hills topped with 700 year old monastaries crafted out of marble and sandstone, bell towers that reach toward the sun and ring clear across miles of valleys... see, it's just words, and it doesn't do the trick. I started to feel tears pushing at the edges of my eyes when we were at the wine tasting, just standing on the front lawn in front of the cellars and looking out over their fields of grapes. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Next stop on Friday was the hot springs spa. We all got to go frolic in the hot springs fed pool, half indoor, half outdoor, with a little tunnel connecting the two, and I sat under a waterfall they had situated over stone benches, letting the water run over my legs, and poking holes in the cascading liquid blanket with my fingers. I got a full facial and massage, which was a tad bit expensive, but worth every euro cent.

I went into a little quiet room with candles burning, and a woman came in and helped me undress, then put a towel over me and left. I relaxed for a little, and then another woman came in and covered my face in a mask of nutrients that she let set for about 20 minutes. After this, she came back and did a salsylic peel and microdermabrasion, then left. Another woman came in and introduced herself as the masseuse. Tiny, probably in her 60's, and her skill with her hands showed every year as experience. She massaged my face with another nutrient mask and moisturizer, neck, shoulders, hands, feet, and head. Then she left me to nap for another 20 minutes, came back and washed my face, reapplied moisturizer and sunscreen, and sent me on my happy way with an apple and a hot cup of detoxifying tea.

After this, I slept on the bus for the two hour drive to our hotel. The next morning we went to Siena and did a guided tour of the city. I saw the remains of Saint Catherine, literally her skull in a glass case. Apparently the remains of known saints were one of the first forms of tourist attraction in Italy, and so the church that Catherine had grown up in got first dibs on some displayable bits, so they picked her skull and thumb. Couldn't take pictures of it, though. Siena was beautiful, and is a VERY proud town. They don't like Firenze (Florence) and have no problem openly talking shit about Florence at every available opportunity. They even have a tower that isn't taller than one the one in Florence, and so they put a flagpole on it to run their flag higher than Florence's tower. They also have the most beautiful city center I've ever seen. It's like a seashell, and they hold annual horse races there every year.

I abstained from buying anything there, and instead laid on one of the monuments during our free time and watched the clouds sail by. We went to another town that day, San Gimigiano, where I bought a really cool leather mask. The town was tiny, had almost nothing to do, aside from the fact that it was situated in a particularly beautiful area of Tuscanny.

Went out that night with the API kids and drank at the only bar that stays open late in Pienza, where our hotel was. It was not stumbling distance, and so I took it easy and tucked in early. It was nice getting to socialize a bit with the 20 year olds, we managed to talk about our favorite television shows and contrast points on popular music.

... yeah.

Anyway, Sunday was the wine tasting. We did a tour of a few towns beforehand, but it was cold, windy, and raining, and the towns weren't very interesting. By this point I was a little toured out, anyway, and just wanted to do something that didn't involve a lecture I would only retain 10% of later on anyway. So the wine tasting. The Vineyard was beautiful, as I said before, and it was probably the most fun we all had the whole trip. The tour coordinators had to have us all fill out release forms saying that we wouldn't get drunk, etc, etc, because API doesn't condone alchohol abuse. Knowing that I was actually older than the tour coordinators didn't help to make the situation any less laughable.

I discovered a few important things during the wine tasting:

I love being able to drink wine
I love cheese dipped in local honey
I love fish pattè
Desert wines are the shit

I bought the first bottle of wine I've ever bought for myself, and plan to keep it for some years. Some day when I'm old I might crack it open and enjoy memories of the beautiful Tuscan countryside.

We toured the facility and saw the casks that they store the wine in. We couldn't talk very much because sound disturbs the aging process, as do heat, light, and a bunch of other subtle influences. After the tour I bought my wine, then picked lavendar in the front lawn and sat in the grass, staring at the windswept fields below. It was so calming, I just wanted to go buy a hammock and string it up in the surrounding forests coming over the hills. It reminded me of what we talked about in Environmental Psychology, how just the sight of nature can improve mood and cognition, and relieve stress far more effectively than many forms of talk therapy.

We rode back to Rome, having to detour back to our hotel to pick up a jacket that one of the girls had left in her apartment, much to the grumbling of many students. With nothing really to watch on the DVD player, much of the weekend was spent watching two seasons of Friends. I never want to see an episode of that show again for the rest of my life. I'm very serious about this, and will probably get violent with anyone who tries to get me to.

-Sean