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Ya Mule! - Backpacking In Siena, Italy
By Rick Chapo, Thu Dec 8th
Ah, the glamour of through Europe. Of course, theglamour comes with a price as I found in Siena, Italy. Siena Siena is located an hour or so outside of Florence, Italy. Myhandy dandy guidebook suggested it was a side trip that just hadto be made. A medieval structure located behind protective wallson the top of a hill. The central area was generally closed offto cars and it was a taste of true Italy. Who was I to argue? As I sat on the train, I check my backpack for any excessweight. I had already discarded or sent home unnecessary itemsand was feeling pretty light on my feet. Next thing I knew, thetrain had stopped and I was standing on flat road next to arolling hill covered in trees and homes. Siena proper was at thetop. The thing about rolling hills with lots of foliage is they aresimply evil. You can never get a grasp on how far it is to thetop. You keep thinking the top appears to be a few hundred feetin front of you until you reach it. Then you discover it is justa dip before another upward section. The hill up to Siena isjust such a rolling hill. Throw in a road that twists all overthe hill like a drunken sailor on leave, and you'll never scoffat a moped again. Getting in touch with my inner mule, I began to climb and tamethe great beast. As I trudged along, I thought of all the greatpeople that must of walked up the same hill throughout history.As I stood in the shade panting, I thought
all of those greatpeople probably hitched a ride instead of walking like me. After thirty-five minutes or so, I was seriously starting tothink about hitching a ride. Of course, this would meanadmitting defeat. The battle between my genetic malestubbornness and "this sucks" attitude was intense. Like a mule,I kept going. Five bends, three dips that I could have swornwere the top. Just as I was giving in...a wall. A really big wall. I passed itand suddenly was in a large parking lot area with tourist buses.Hands on knees, shirt soaking, I tried to maintain my dignity asthe tourist looked at me like I was insane. Did that moron walkup here? One even took a picture! After composing myself...err, getting my breath back, I booked aroom in a little hotel. The young lady working the desk seemedhesitant, but I made some comment about it being a long way upfrom the valley. She started giggling and I had the room. I showered and went looking for trouble. Well, trouble that wason a flat surface. In the town centre, I stumbled upon a smallcafé selling Mexican beer. Being from San Diego, this wasnirvana. My inner mule was quickly appeased and the hill ofdeath forgotten.
Reflecting on my climb from a historical perspective, I learneda good lesson. It is far better to be behind the wall thantrying to attack it!
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