As someone who likes to pride myself on being able to see the best in any location, Day 3 tested that in a way no city has since my first year in Philadelphia, as growing up next to NYC will have the deleterious effect of making you turn up your nose at most other cities. (What...everything closes after 7pm? There are no real skyscrapers? You can enter the city without crossing a bridge? Clearly I was obsessed with bridges and didn't quite count the massive bridges over the Delaware).
Day 3 was for Siena, which was recommended by a few of you out there, and was cemented by the sweet Corsican couple who sat next to me at an excellent pizzeria in Oltrarno. Normally I don't think the French would strike up a conversation with strangers, but we were seated at the same round table, along with a pair of German businessmen, Chinese dim-sum style. In any case, during the course of discussing politics, religion, and philosophy (it's frankly what I love about the French nonchalance about engaging in conversation topics that Americans shy away from), we discussed my travels. They insisted I go to Siena, pulling a Henri IV, saying that Siena was worth the effort.
Too bad, Mother Nature decided to make things more interesting with downpours interspersed with light rain that lasted the next 3 days. Within 3 min of walking outside of the hostel, my sneakers became irreversibly wet. And by that, I mean that I was sloshing around in little portable pools of water in my shoes that made them stink to high heaven. Such that despite all attempts to dry them out with towels and hairdryers, they remained damp until Vienna. I pitied my poor flatmates...except that their shoes also reeked!
Back to Siena. With my cranky mood, it was really difficult to tamp down expectations that had been raised so highly. So when we arrived, Siena's announcement to her visitors was less like seeing Minas Tirith rise from the Plains of Pelennor, and more like a descent into a black-and-grey, monochromatic pit of stone buildings. The streets were paved with dark grey cobblestone, as were the sidewalks. The rain made what was probably dark red, brick buildings seem like drab slate. The roofs were a gloomy maroon, and as you know, the sky decided to cry. On top of that, the clock tower (campanile?) that's depicted in every photo of Siena was closed, due to the liability that rain posed to tourists attempting to scale its heights.
However, things brightened up a bit thanks to Italy's refusal to permit anyone to eat poorly. Further, the inside of their Duomo and Town Hall were gorgeous, albeit in a very different way than Florence was. Siena really did seem like a city of stone - even the cathedral was wrapped in bands of black and white marble, with the floor inside checkered in the same livery. And I topped off the day with a cup of Grom hot chocolate, highly recommend by nearly everyone in the hostel. Think of dark brown decadence distilled into a thick goop. Basically liquid chocolate. Funny how food will make everything better for me.
