High in the Tuscan Hills - Day Fifty Eight

As I said in the last post, the combination of busy days and internet connection speeds that make continental drift look nippy have allowed me to fall behind on the blogging, so I'm going to try and condense the last week or so into one post.

Venice, as I might have mentioned, was amazing. I really loved the place; I was spellbound by it, in spite of the vast wandering hordes of tourists that walk in front of you and then suddenly stop to admire the view. Over and over again.

The extortionate prices meant that I could only realistically stay there for a couple of nights though, and - all too quickly - it was time to leave. I wandered casually to the train station with Fabienne, a girl I'd met at my hostel who was taking the same train as me, only to hear a garbled PA announcement saying that our train had been cancelled.

We had about ten minutes before it was due to depart, and although there was no mention of it at all on the departure board we decided to split up and try and find someone who could explain what was going on. In an Italian train station, this is easier said than done...

I was standing in a ticket queue, wondering what it was exactly that everybody buying a ticket had to discuss with the guys behind the counter that made each transaction last half an hour. The weather? Rising fuel prices? Silvio Berlusconi's haircut? Surely buying a ticket can't take that long...
With about a minute and a half to go before the scheduled departure time, Fabienne came running over and mimed that we had to start running.

We started running.

We made it onto the replacement train that was covering for our cancelled one (which hadn't appeared on any of the departure boards, as if passengers would have some sort of telepathic, zen-like understanding that they had to board a random secret train) with about a minute to spare before the doors closed and it pulled out of the station, making its stately way across the lagoon to the mainland.

At Mestre station we found the train we needed and sank gratefully into the seats in one of the six person compartments. We were comfortable, and could now simply relax for the next few hours. Or so we thought - once again foolishly underestimating the ability of the Italian railway network to wreak havoc wherever possible.

It turned out we were sitting in the reserved section. There was no way for us to tell this, because nothing indicated that our seats were in any way different to the ones in the unreserved section. Unfortunately, by the time we did find out, all the unreserved seats were long gone and people were already standing in the aisles. The train continued to fill with people, and I soon found myself sitting on my backpack by the door, right next to the toilet.

Even this wouldn't have been so bad, but I was collared in conversation by Chandra, a friendly old Indian lady, who started to chat to me all about my life and travels. She then needed a bit of a sit down, so I gave her my place on the bag and stood awkwardly by the window as the train continued to fill and fill with people until it resembled an enforced game of 'sardines'. At this point there was no way that Chandra could have given me my seat back even if she'd wanted to (which I'm pretty sure she didn't). My legs started to get cramp. Chandra asked me about my religious views, and then actually punched me when I told her I was an atheist. It turned out to be a long three hours.

When eventually I arrived in Florence, I was a bit of a tired sweaty mess. I was soon picked up by the free shuttle bus to my hostel though, and everything began to change. The Heart of Tuscany Hostel is located in the rolling olive grove-strewn hillsides that lie about an hour away from Florence. It is just outside the tiny village of San Baronto, itself a short distance from Vinci - birthplace of Leonardo.

When I arrived I was treated almost immediately to some excellent homemade pasta and lots of lovely wine, and then fell deeply asleep in a four-bed dorm in which I was the only person. The hostel has been run for years as a more expensive, up-market holiday location, but at the start of April they decided to open it as a hostel. This means that for my mere 17 euros a night I had access to a swimming pool, restaurant and bar, and a panoramic view of the beautiful Tuscan countryside that was worth twice the price on its own.

I used the hostel as a base over the next few days to explore some nearby towns and villages, including Florence, San Gimignano, Siena, Pisa (that tower's really leaning, they're not making that up),and Lucca. In the evenings I enjoyed more tasty pasta and wine, and I even spent my last, slightly rainy day playing an increasingly heated game of Disney monopoly with a group of Canadian and American girls that very nearly ended in bloodshed.

If you ever fancy a cheap stay in one of the most beautiful areas of Italy (and why wouldn't you?), you could do a lot worse than tracking this place down.