Under the Tuscan Weather

Mary’s off at 6:30 by taxi to catch the high speed train to Florence. She's going to a two-day conference and may join us afterward at the villa. Sue wants to do a day's bike tour of Florence. My knees are bothering me and I'm living on Advil, so biking doesn't really appeal to me in theory, but I'm open to seeing how I feel when the moment arrives.

Sue sleeps for a few more hours and after showering and organizing her stuff to be packed, we head up the road to L'800 for cappuccino and cornetti. Sue gets a text message from Mary in the train: she can't find her passport. Mary had everything in and out of her case, so we're pretty confident that she's just not looked in the right spot yet and the passport will turn up. We also agree that since she has a friend who works at the US embassy in Rome, she'll be able to get a replacement if the passport doesn't turn up in her stuff,

A quick stop at the ATM, back to the college, where we finishing packing and say farewell to the wonderful little cottage. We did not find Mary's passport. We leave our stuff in one of the meeting rooms in the college's main building and take off down the hill toward the Coliseum and then to San Pietro in Vincoli - St Peter in Chains - so Sue can see Moses. I lobbied for this walk instead of going out to St Paul outside the walls. On route, Sue stopped to try the public water/fountain trick (hold a finger over the downspout and a stream of drinking water comes through the top of the pipe).

The clock is ticking and so we get back to the college, phone for a taxi to the train station. The taxi is supposed to arrive in 3 minutes. Five minutes later, I ask the weekend receptionist to check on the taxi again. It shows up a few minutes later and takes what I now believe to have been the not-so-scenic route to Termini.

We arrive at Termini at 12:30 for a 12:45 train. We check the departure board and see three trains are leaving at 12:45, and one clearly says "Firenze". It is the farthest possible place from where we are. We start walking, my knees are killing me, Sue runs ahead, my knees are really killing me, we get on the train with about 30 seconds to spare. It starts moving. The conductor speaks and we catch something about 1808. That is not our train number. We have reservations on the high-speed train, one hour and 37 minutes to Florence, but we're on the slow train - four hours and 30 minutes to Florence. There's nothing we can do, so we find some forward-facing seats and tell ourselves this is an adventure. It's a spectacular day: bright blue sky and sunshine, the countryside is going by at a photograph-able speed, and we both have our passports!

Sue calls Ruth, who has already left the villa for the train station. Mary calls and says she has not found her passport. We eat cheese and bread and drink some Coca-Cola.  Sue falls asleep. When she wakes, she complains a little about not feeling great. There's some train-fume smell, so I think between that and her long trip the day before, she's just wrung out. I break out the Advil, now one of my most precious possessions, for her and she goes back to sleep.

We finally arrive in Florence and meet Ruth. It's still a beautiful day and we take a cab to Villa Nieuwenkamp or Riposo dei Vescovi, the Bishops Resting Place, in Fiesole. W. O. J. Nieuwenkamp (1874-1950), was a Dutch artist who studied with Gauguin and was one of the first European artists to visit Bali. The Balinese influence is prominent in the villa. Nieuwenkamp bought the ruined villa in the early years of the 20th century and restored and renovated it in the styles he found true to its heritage and pleasing to his aesthetic. It's a proper villa, too. I'll put some of my photos up soon, but this a quick look courtesy of Wikipedia: Villa Nieuwenkamp

After unloading our bags, we have a quick look around and sit at the big center table chatting for a while. Sue still doesn't feel well and decides to take a nap. Not long after, she's sick - really sick. I think it's flu. Ruth is sure it's the water from the Roman spout.

Ruth and I keep checking on her but she just wants to sleep. I give her the other OTC meds I've taken along that might help and to some extent, they do, but sleep is the best healer for her. Ruth and I realize it's gotten chilly. In fact, the heating has failed. The landlady comes and gets the furnace running. Fifteen minutes later, it stops. Ruth calls the landlady and she returns and restarts the heating. It stops again. We don't phone and hunker down to wait out the night in the chilly villa. I decide to pretend that I'm a 17th century Italian bishop. Ruth just stays a stoic German.

Sue sleeps for 36 hours; Ruth and I talk, eat, read, and field messages from Mary, who’s still missing her passport.