The continuing trials and adventures in Tuscany

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As old age continues to impinge on the travelling party, Betty and Barney Rubble suffer the affliction of not getting the alarm clock set correctly. So as SV & the GF enter the breakfast bar, the phone message arrives to confess to the alarm “problem”. If only that had been the only incident in the day!

We completed breakfast and headed out across town back to the bus station (just by the train station). There we bought a ticket to Fiseole – the target village for today’s adventure. The ticket seller explained we had to get the #1 to St Mark’s Piazza, and there change to the #7. It became clear as the #1 set off that it was carrying us back (through a circuitous route) to a spot near our hotel. No harm done, for the sake of a 1.2Euro ticket.

At St Mark’s Piazza (shown in the first photo) we swapped to the mountain bus that would carry us up to the village. Fifteen or twenty minutes later we were climbing off the bus into the square at Fiseole.

 

 

 

After Florence it was quite a contrast. There was little traffic, and few tourists. It was relatively peaceful – and could lull one into an unwarranted state of calm – but more about that later.

Our first stop was for a coffee. We sat in a small cafe overlooking some Etruscan and Roman ruins. For some reason we felt quite at home. Suitable fired with caffeine we bought our tickets and descended in among the ruins. These proved to be an unexpected pleasure with an amphitheatre, an Etruscan temple, hot baths, and goodness know what else. All of this was painted against a backdrop of the Tuscan countryside that was quite magical.

 

 

The amphitheatre used to hold about 3000 people – the Gorse Fox observed that if they had been built in the stone age they could have been used for rock concerts.

 

 

 

 

Scattered amongst the ruins wer soome extraordinary “steampunk” styled sculptures by a German artist. Not ony were the slightly bizarre, they were also immensely atmospheric and actually enhanced the whole experience.

 

 

 

 

 

Finishing off the tour of the ruins we left the amphitheatre via the museum and then headed to the town square for a bite to eat and a drink,

There were several establishments from which to choose. We chose the second and settled down. The Gorse Fox removed his rucksack for the first time and placed it on the seat next to him. He tied hos camera strap to the rucksack and looped it round his arm. There was NO WAY he was leaving without them.

Some drinks were ordered and the foursome settled down to some salads. The waiter was a surly chap with few graces… and he had to be chased for part of the order – only to be told it was “finished”. The Gorse Fox, being a fast eater made use of the time whilst the others finished to call Cousteau-cub – and though he got through, she was evidently busy with a customer as all he could hear was the dog barking and her voice in the background. He gave up after about 5 minutes.

We moved on from the square, walking up to the convent of ST Francis way up above the town It was a place of peace and seclusion and was deeply atmospheric. On the way up the hill, we were afforded some fantastic views across the valley below, and Florence.

Up at the convent the cloisters were perfect sanctuaries of calm and contemplation. Leaving there we strolled down through the woods to the ornate cemetery and then back towards the town. It was at this point that Gorse Fox thought he’d try Cousteau-cub once more. It was at this point he realised he couldn’t find his phone. It was at this point that his heart-rate doubled and he might have muttered a rude word. Catching up with our companions, GF asked for his phone to be rung – just in case it was tucked away somewhere he hadn’t looked. The phone rang – but no ring could be heard. It was lost.

When was the last time GF saw it? At lunch. Had he noticed it it since? He thought he had checked it whilst walking up to the monastery… but wasn’t sure. It would be a matter of retracing his steps. First stop better be the restaurant – so he raced off (remember, he races Gazelle-like) round the corner. He wandered into the restaurant. “Por Favor” he said trying to curry favour - “Did I leave my phone at the table”. The surly waiter looked up - “Non” he said. GF was about to turn when a huge grin broke across the man’s face. “of course you did” he said “welcome to Italy” and he handed the phone across the counter. GF thanked him profusely and left.

Panic over, and excitement for the second day reaching a crescendo… the travellers turned entered the cathedral for the last part of the tour of Fiseole. After the cathedral we mingled with a gathering a wedding party before catching the bus back down to Florence. Walking through the streets we avoided the tourist traps trying to seel beer for 11Euros and found a slightly more sensible bar for a quick drink before heading for a Gelato parlour for some ice cream.