not Under the Tuscan Sun

Not Under the Tuscan Sun any more…that thunderstorm last night sounded like it might take our nine year old casa down the mountain.

But the final quiet day preceding it in Toscana brought us to an art showing (a group from United States were touring France and Italy), took us on another hike around the farm, reading a few more chapters of the Castle in the Attic with the kids…and prepping for the next day’s travel.

Italia 2013 010

Italia 2013 014

There’s nothing more boring, yet more mind blitzing, than sitting in a foreign train station, Siena to be specific, for a few hours on a rainy day AND trying to fend off creepy Italian twenty-something pickpockets. Hannah says we should buy knives…they’re eyeing dad every move he makes, watching our bags, following us into the bathrooms and around the station. I know our reactions are too subdued for fending them off with knives, but still we are on high alert.


I won’t overwhelm you with a half dozen toilet stories, but I could. Okay, I won’t, but these stories mark a most unpleasant addition to an already unpleasant day.


Trying to find something to amuse the kiddos, in Italian…



Things you can buy in the train station…play automatic guns, AK 47…


We had nothing to do but wait, so we found somewhere to sit, in a pizza shop. What we did find in the Firenze station was THE BEST PIZZA we’ve eaten in Italy, in a chain restaurant named Alice. I don’t prefer a white, baked pita crust for my pizza, and they seem to be everywhere here. The toppings are sparse, and I like my funghi, but I do not like my canned funghi. Of course their salami or prosciutto offerings are divine. I think the best pizza I’ve eaten the last few months is (call me crazy) Pizza Hut (aren’t they proud?) OR a little café in Kaslo, in the British Columbia Kootenay mountains.

This was a truly boring day. A long day, filled with nothing. We do so little, yet we feel so tired.

Arriving at the Santa Lucia train station downtown Venice, we head to the church next store to meet the Italian fellow letting us our Jewish Ghetto apartment across the bridge. Another adventure begins…