Arrival in Italy (Siena)

I've been sick, and I got up early to do a radio show, so it's not the best time to leave town, but I'm excited for the trip! The flight starts uneventfully, but then they announce that due to a medical situation, we'll be landing a NY JFK airport. We end up waiting a long time as they remove the sick man and his wife; locate and remove their luggage; check the plane over and refuel; get a new flight plan; get the checklist and sign off. The last part takes the longest; overall, we've been set back 4 hours. We will miss our connection; they tell us they'll give us new flight information when we land, but we've already called the airline and made arrangements to get on a different flight, this one to Florence instead of Bologna. We arrange to pick up our car in Florence, too. So we don't have to worry about that. We sleep fitfully in our cramped coach seats, me with the aid of Dramamine. All night my sinuses drain alarmingly, and I go through an entire package of kleenex.

In Brussels, we have a beer, a sandwich, and a selection of cheese, salami, pickles, and olives, in a beer café in the airport. It's pretty good. We find no place for a nice fresh Belgian waffle, so we buy one wrapped in plastic, which is pretty good but not great. The plane is remarkably comfortable, and we sleep soundly, almost interrupted from wheels-up to wheels-down.

Our car is a little Opel Corsa, much like any other European subcompact. We drive to Siena, where we spend a lot of time trying to figure out how to get to the free parking. Eventually, we end up near the free parking, but in a pay lot (at the fortezza). Whatever. We get out and go to our hotel.

The hotel room is small but clean, and with a 15' ceiling. There is a ceiling fan, hanging not from the ceiling but rather a cantilever hanging off the wall, 3' from the ceiling.

We are tired, but functional. It is the high time of the Saturday afternoon passagiata and the streets are thronging with people. Sienese men do have fun with their facial hair (no I don't have pictures of this). We wander about, visiting the Piazza del Campo and pointing out things we saw last we were here, in 1999. Eventually we settle on dinner at a recommended restaurant: Osteria Castelvecchio.

It's early, by Italian standards, so all the other patrons are also American. This worries me at first, but all the later patrons are Italian.

We share a serving of prosciutto con melone to start with, and then I have the pici in a traditional sauce made with wild boar, and Eric had cavatappi made with cacao in a Gorgonzola cream sauce, with walnuts. My food is excellent, Eric's is extraordinary. As a main dish, he has rabbit with cipolline, which is good, and I have galletto (young rooster), grilled and served with a sort of mixed salad, which is very good. We drink Vernaccia di San Gimignano, which is very nice. We skip desert and, god forbid, coffee. My eyes are crossing. It's bed time.

By the time we get to bed, it's 10:25. It doesn't take long to get to sleep.

Labels: food, italy, journal, personal

posted by Tony at 10:25 PM