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10 Tina and Markus The morning dawned another balmy one degree Celsius. It didn't look like a pleasant day to be out on a bike, but we were out of food. The sky did hold a promising scrap of blue, so we hit the road while the getting was good. The muddy ruts we had come in on were impassable, filled with a mucky slurry. Instead of wallowing through the mud like a pair of farmyard sows, we backtracked, crossed the creek and pushed through a small wooded area to a road in an adjacent farmer's field that led us back to the busy highway. As soon as we could, we got off the heavily trafficked thoroughfare and found a country lane leading uphill at fifteen percent through rolling valleys. The wrinkled green hills looked like a rumpled quilt thrown over a bed by a hasty six year old. We were saved from starvation by a small store in Asciano that had Mars bars. Sharon maintained she would have expired on the spot if it hadn't been for that chocolate bar. Arriving in Siena, the city described as a living art museum, Val, an Australian woman on a year and a half holiday saw us and took us under her wing. She escorted us to the main Piazza del Campo where the clock tower stood loftily over the square. When I questioned the time it read, Val told us the clocks had moved ahead on the weekend. It was an hour later than I had thought. We excused ourselves and hurried off to buy food before the stores closed for afternoon siesta. Leaning our bikes against a wall out of the throngs of school kids on spring break tours, it began to snow. A young couple came over to check us out, introducing themselves as Markus and Tina. They were on a skiing holiday, but it was blizzard conditions in the Alps, so decided to check out Siena for the day. Markus was a transportation engineer in Germany. That was a good way to get more bike routes--get cyclists in charge. Tina was originally from England, but worked for a group doing arms control in Washington, DC. I told her that was valuable work. I hated it when my arms got out of control and just started flapping madly about. She got into the act, waving her arms vigorously and said that was why she did it. Were there ever people you had just met and yet felt an unexplainable instantaneous rapport? They cycled--in the summer they stressed--on a tandem and had some good route ideas--particularly Czech, Slovak and Hungary. They didn't recommend Bulgaria because when they had toured there it didn't have much food and they spent most of their time either hungry or looking for food. Cyclists, the world over, had the same needs. They had toured the Dolomites. On downhills, Tina squirted water onto their tandem's disk brake to cool it off. She said the water was instant steam. A great feature for a British cyclist who wanted to make a spot of tea. On one downhill, Markus said he braked constantly for twenty-five kilometers. He held out his hand in the gnarled brake clench we had become so familiar with and we all laughed. After chatting a while and learning England was on our list of countries, Tina graciously offered us her parent's address. "Make sure you stop," she said. "They'd love to talk to you and have you stay overnight." Oh, right, I'm sure they would, I thought. Two strangers on bicycles that your daughter talked with briefly in Siena have come to share your residence. Let us in. The interiors of Siena's churches were the most impressive I had ever seen. Not only were there paintings, but sculptures were everywhere also, and marble heads surrounded the ceiling. Everything was so ornate it was decadent. Gold had not been in short supply. A family from Connecticut was outside one church taking pictures for a children's Shakespearean book they were writing. "Today is the coldest day we've had all winter," the father said. Intermittent snowflakes fell and the mightily gusting wind punctuated his words. Leaving Siena, Sharon and I faced another brutal climb as we turned towards Castellina in Chianti. Car drivers went by pointing to their heads. We were certifiably crazy to be out in weather like that climbing a pitch their cars barely laboured over. A farmhouse provided water while the woman held two snarling curs at bay. As we left the yard I gave each of her three children toy cars I had collected from Nestle Quik containers. I have a confession: I broke down and paid extortionist fees for a small container of Nestle Quik. See what addictions did? Sharon and I found a spot by a creek and set up the tent in front of tiny purple and yellow flowers. It was still snowing. Flakes swirled around our bodies, threatening to turn us into snowmen, as we attempted to stake the tent into the hard ground. |
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