Buns o' steel

1/23/2012

Andrea

Kristin and I decided to unwind for a few days in Siena, a beautiful Tuscan town about an hour from Florence, after a hectic week in Rome.  If I lived in Siena I would have the butt and legs of an Olympic sprinter.  There are so many hills in Siena!  First off, the city is built on top of a hill, has several steep uphills within the city walls, and is surrounded by hills.  It’s no wonder all of the Sienese are tiny and have nice legs. 

I think if I were to stay in Italy permanently I would probably relocate to Siena.  Rome is great because there are lots of things to do and see, but there is something to be said for relatively quiet nights, being able to see the stars on your walk home, and being able to recognize and form relationships with the people you pass daily (and, most importantly, in the summer you don’t have to put on sunscreen because the medieval streets are almost completely shaded).  The idea of having a bigger role in a smaller city is very appealing.  Anyway, back to our weekend of relaxation and awesome-ness.  After a “brief” battle with public transportation (our issues followed us from Rome!  Kristin will explain) we got checked into our hostel (with Internet – woohoo!) and went straight to our favorite restaurant in Siena, Spada Forte.  The food here is very good, but I think the company makes it better.  It also doesn’t hurt that the restaurant has a nice view of Il Campo, the piazza in the center of town in front of Palazzo Publico and the Torre del Mangia, the tallest tower in Siena.  Once we were stuffed we spent the rest of the day marching up large hills and tall staircases in town.  Like I said – buns o’ steel.  My legs are still sore (though I’m hoping this is more because I ran up several of these hills during my two long runs in the countryside). 

The aim of our four-day weekend in Siena was supposed to be eating and drinking wine, which I will admit that we failed miserably at.  Siena is the home of the national wine library, which, after spending about a half hour trying to locate it, we found out is closed for the month of January.  Wine fail.  Also, having gotten into the habit of eating lunch late we weren’t terribly hungry by dinner time and, unlike Rome, Sienese shops and restaurants close down earlier in the evening, so a late (i.e. 9pm) dinner was out of the question (it seems that things close earlier in the winter than the summer, in general).  What did we do instead of eat glorious Tuscan dishes while gazing at the tower?  Watch episodes of the Bachelor at our hostel and eat fruit for dinner.  Yes, we are that awesome.  It was cold anyway.  Besides, had we eaten more we would have had to walk up more hills to burn it off.  At least we were finally able to get tiramisu at Spada Forte (the first time we attempted to order it they had already run out – clearly this was not going to be the eating extravaganza we had planned).

We continued to pursue our aim while visiting a small hilltop town north of Siena, Volterra, which Kristin had wanted to visit.  We finally found a place that was open (it seemed there weren’t many tourists visiting Volterra in the winter and several restaurants were closed) and decided to give it a shot.  I was extremely pleased with my risotto with zucchini and Volterra muffone cheese (and the fact that the waiter said that I spoke good Italian), however, Kristin did not fare as well.  Kristin has an onion allergy and even though it said nothing about onions being in the dish on the menu, they were hiding in her pasta nonetheless.  Not only did she have to watch me eat my delicious risotto (oh, it was soooo good!) while she waited for hers to be prepared (the waiter kindly took back her dish after I explained that she was allergic to onions), but when her risotto finally arrived it was undercooked and had a hair in it.  It was not her day.  After some more wandering around Volterra and snapping photos we took the bus back to Siena (Hooray for not getting carsick from all of the bus’ twists and turns!  I can’t imagine having to explain to the bus driver that he needs to pull over so I can throw up.  How do you say “puke” in Italian?) and watched the sun set over the Tuscan countryside.  Not a bad way to spend a weekend.