Song of the day: Wuthering Heights by Kate Bush Today’s mood: Kate interprative dancing in the field, specifically when that first chorus hits.
I had one request and one request only for visiting the country of Italy: I wanted to get on a Vespa. They’re everywhere here, and I mean this in the best way. People really know how to operate vehicles here and that means that the people riding scooters are pretty adept at maneuvering through streets in a way that’s proficient and relatively non-intrusive.
For contrast, while driving in Pittsburgh, you can usually feel your IQ dropping as the mileage in your car keeps increasing. I have never encountered a city quite like Pittsburgh in the sense that the drivers are both a.) decidedly ignorant and b.) mean as junkyard dogs. European drivers deserve a huge collective and delicious cake for their communal effort to move traffic along and do so with a nice little smile.
I really wanted to ride a Vespa. I love bikes and motorcycles and really felt that in order to complete my Italian pilgrimage, there was nothing that I needed more than to zip off on one of those adorable two-wheeled contraptions. Today being our first and only completely free day, I really wanted to push for some kind of Vespa investment. We looked up tours through the Tuscan countryside, then we looked into just renting them in the city, but to my serious dismay, nothing seemed to be working out.
We spent the morning and early afternoon in Florence doing some shopping and iced coffee hunting (we found a shop named “The American Coffee Experience” and I only hated myself a little for actually running inside). We discovered a glorious vintage store that was several rooms deep and filled with the most eccentric, delicious vintage finds. I bought a top and the cute, curly-haired shopkeeper with oscillating earrings gave me a discount. Three of us also split a Florentine steak (a delicacy of the region) that was well over two pounds in its entirety. Yep, you heard me.
Throughout these wanderings, my heart was still set on scootering. My body may have been in Florence, but my heart was off somewhere riding a buttercream yellow Vespa through the countryside as I ate a baguette and smoked a really thin cigarette. This image leaves zero hands for actually operating the scooter, but that’s not nearly as important. I would also wear a thin scarf that would fly neatly behind me as I zipped, unbothered.
Introducing: sunset Vespa tours. A THING! We rushed to get registered for a trip, and before we knew it, three of us had signed up to leave Florence in a minivan that belonged to a man named Leo, and were soon headed up a mountain to the tiny scooters, no experience required. We were dropped off at a castle that’s a working vineyard and winery, complete with a nearly panoramic view of the countryside, which was an actual breathtaking visual experience. I also feel like I’m generally incredibly wowed all the time, which is maybe something I should work on. There are just lots of beautiful things!
There was an exhaustingly long wine tasting, which bored me beyond reason. The wine expert who was dishing out everyone’s goods made a gimmick of my sobriety for an unnecessarily long time. Just like when I was in Ireland, she essentially asked me why I would even visit Italy if I didn’t drink. This country worships wine. I would never make a spectacle of anyone’s alcohol consumption, and it just consistently confuses me that people find it comical or interesting to harass the non-drinking crowd. Anyways, on to the Vespas.
We had a very brief training session, where in order to prove our caliber, we had to essentially drive in a circle on our own. Big kid stuff. Beth hopped on the back of mine (an adorable sight, I tell you) and we set off. The ride in its entirety was well over an hour, traversing all through the Tuscan countryside. We topped mountains, back roads, and tight turns. Beth and I were a pleasant team, and the front of her helmet only collided into the back of mine a mere 20 times, and she only got a little nervous when I stood up while riding. (Directly below are some photos of us learnin’ the ropes.)
We stopped a couple times to take some photos of the views, and boy were they lovely. I could have pulled over and watched the scene unfold all day. The Vespa trip ended at the very tippy top of a mountain that overlooked a vineyard. We tumbled down the hill to get a closer look at the baby grapes. These beautiful rays of sunshine were piercing through pieces of a clear, clear sky.
We were bused back to Florence and walked back in rain drizzles to our hostel. We made use of the sauna and afterwards went to an Irish pub across the street for French fries. I tumbled into bed and hoped I would dream about the countryside, just to see it one more time.
(I can’t exactly tell you why this picture cracks me up, but here you are.)
Affectionately,
Em