First day solo

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First day solo
I dropped Lindsay off at the train station in Florence and headed to meet Sam Sing.  Parking is funny in Florence.  Nothing is regulated, yet they have all these rules you're supposed to follow.  I don't know if I followed them correctly, but I tried my best and didn't get a ticket or in an accident!  
It was really nice to see Sam.  We got pizza and gelato and had girl talk for a couple hours.  I wanted to head out of Florence before nightfall so we did a little shopping and just as quickly as we met, we said our goodbyes. I'm looking forward to seeing that girl again in a few weeks when she heads home!
After I found my way out of Florence, I went exploring, without a destination.  This was maybe not the best idea, as I was wayyyy up in the mountains when, with the night, rain came.  the roads up in no-mans-land are so curvy you can't go over 30 mph, and with every blind turn comes the fear of driving off a cliff.  It was intense.  I think I saw 12 cars in 2 hours, so if I were to crash, I would be doomed.  I tried to think of it as a roller coaster and pretend it was a thrill ride.  Boy, was it ever.  Once I found the slightest hint of civilization, I stopped and asked for directions to the nearest hotel. Once again, Italians are the kindest and most patient people I have ever met.  I quickly got settled into my hotel and Got on the Internet to find my next destination.  Since I had to return the car in Chiusi, which was 2 hours south, I wasn't sure if I wanted to head north again.  But I really wanted to see the coast on Cinque Terre so I booked my train ticket and hotel for two nights.
In the morning, it was still raining.  I checked out and headed south to Chiusi to drop off the car and take the train to Cinque Terre.  I met some American women on vacation from Kentucky, and we had lunch together and shared stories.  once I was on the train, the ticket guy came by to stamp my ticket.  Since I booked it online, I only have the email confirmation ticket, not printed (I clearly don't have access to a printer anywhere).  He yelled at me in Italian until I found a guy who would translate for us.  (once again, adorable kind Italian).  He told the ticket guy it was ridiculous I would get charged because I showed him my passport and he knew it was the correct ticket.  After a little hesitation, he was fine and didn't make me pay for another ticket, but he said at my next stop I  would have to print one.  I only have 13 minutes to catch the next train so I guess I will have to fight this battle all over again.  
At the last stop on this train, there was some graffiti on the station. It said, "if I can't dancing, it's not my revolution!" I like that.  
Now that the rain has stopped, the fog is lifting and the beautiful hillsides are taking my breath away.  They are my favorite part of Italy. The old houses are nestled into the hills to make a picturesque view that you would think was a painting.  I can see why Italians were so inspired to be artists.  
It's funny how you can begin to tell the difference between American tourists and Italians. Even the Italian tourists have a distinct expression on their faces.  I don't know how to explain it, but it's just a look of calm. It's like they don't have a care in the world. No wrinkles, no hurried steps, just peace and friendliness.  Even when they're giving another driver the middle finger they yell and do their battle, they end with  a look of, "ok, good enough.  Let's move on with our day". 
I feel like the land explains the people best here.  The largest castles are sitting atop the highest point in each town, as if to rule over all the peasants in their town.  It's still sort of how it works.  The people with more money have the nicest homes at the top of each hill. Whether or not they are of nobility or just rich out-of-towners, who's to say.  But they walk a little taller, I feel.  my next trip here, I want to learn more about the people. They are so intriguing here.  The old men wear hats, long coats, and walk with their hands folded behind their back. Who wouldn't look up to a person that holds themselves in such high regard? Have you ever seen an 80 year old woman riding a bike with a basket of flowers? Heart melting.  

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