Tuscany Chewed me up and spit me out!!

Tuscany Chewed me up and spit me out….today was a day never to be repeated again…I hope that is…I am only trying to laugh at myself now that the dust has settled. My therapist once said to not be afraid to make myself vulnerable so here goes the story of my stupidity. So today was my last day in the incredible city of Florence. Having a day in Bordeaux (France’s famous wine country) and Priorat (Spain’s premier wine country) I thought it be fitting to visit Tuscany (as you all should know Italy’s wine country). I joined a tour to see some incredible countryside sprawled with rolling hills of vineyards. I was scheduled to fly out at 20:15 from Pisa, 70 min from Florence, so the tour being back at 17:00, guaranteed, was a great option to fill my last day in Florence. I was quite excited to see some world renowned vineyards and countryside. The tour guide was a lovely energetic petite Italian girl with a personality you couldn’t help but be drawn to. Our first stop was a medieval village an hour’s drive from Florence named San Girmagnano. What a fantastic place. The village is so small and quaint that tours are only allowed a max of 1.5hrs of visitation. The village set upon a hill overlooking many vineyards as far as the eye could see in all directions. Being distracted by the architecture and the breathtaking views of the countryside I failed to keep track of time. Yes anal Heath forgot to keep an eye on the watch. Consumed by my camera, tourists, and shops I realized it was 5 min to departure. Crap!! I picked up the pace and found myself at the exit of the rather confusing village walking streets…Nothing looked familiar…I came to a parking lot, but the wrong one obviously, since there was no bus parking. Finding a lady police officer I asked her where the bus parking was…to my dismay she pointed and said something in Italian…basically said I was on the wrong side of the village. My blood jumped 10 degrees realizing I was about to be ‘That Guy’! I couldn’t believe it. It was hard not to curse at myself. I began running. It was raining so I had my rain jacket on which created an instant rain forest. Sweating profusely I yelled at myself the entire time hoping, just hoping someone else was late, but no!...I saw the ass end of the bus. Going to the first winery of the day where the photo opps were supposed to be breath taking…what I had been waiting for the entire stay in Florence. Idiot was all I could say (maybe a few other things lol). Oh well that’s life right? Haha…not even the worst of the day. So I go to the bus stop to catch a ride back to Florence and wait for the tour bus to come back to the hostel since my backpack was underneath and I was flying out that evening. Nothing is in English and nothing says Florence!! Was I surprised? Hell no nothing in Europe is marked…How the heck do I get back? I wait there for awhile watching several buses go by but none mentioning where I might want to go. No one spoke English either out of the hundred folks that came and went as I waited. I finally started asking every driver…nope…nada…sorry. Finally a phat blue buss comes…YES, jackpot! He says yes come aboard. But I have to have a ticket?? What the heck? Where do I get a ticket? He points back to the entrance of the village. Sheesh…So I say a few more words under my breath and trudge off to find the ticket person, desk or whatever I was supposed to find. I follow the ‘I’ signs leading me to the information booth. CLOSED..huh? I couldn’t believe it..well I am in Italy and they are a bit lazy but come on...what more could go wrong. I walk in to a shop and ask about bus tickets and he says Tabachi shop or something like that..so I find one and say I need a ticket to Florence…no not this, down road…so I walk down road muttering under my breath..Finally! Buy one. Go back out…what bus still? The ticket lady couldn’t tell me since we spoke different languages neither knowing what the other was saying. I make it back to the bus stop and wait again…one goes by. Parking lot bus. Another…some random town. Upon it pulling away a beautiful, tall, thin, Italian girl strolls up…Exactly like you would picture in your mind…wow…for a second I forget about the days troubles as she locks her eyes on me…I was brought back to reality as I choke on the diesel fumes of the bus pulling away. She glances at me I at her she at me I at her etc. Finally I ask if she speaks English...after a sexy yes I proceed to ask her if she knows what bus I should get on and show my ticket…she points at the bus that just pulled away. Of course right? She says the city it goes to and says ‘you change bus’…ahh if you could have heard it lol. So she tells me again where I need to go. A bus pulls up and she tugs my arm and does the Italian no no with her finger (if you saw you would know). So I wait…try to talk but she doesn’t know what I am saying. That blue bus pulls up again and she says no and gets on. Smiling at me as it pulls away..hmmm I think to myself. More people come to bus stop yet again. Wait…I hear English…American English…YESSS…next bus comes and it says the city she told me, I think. I ask the English couple (from the bay area) where they are going and Florence rang through the air like music..like one of those harps playing in the museum as you gaze at The David..or like angles coming down and showing me the way. He has a schedule so I follow them on and make new friends. We go to this town and get dropped at the station just like clock work…guess who is there?? Yes…My tall, dark, brunette, sexy, Italian information specialist who doesn’t speak much English…I then realized maybe the jokes on me?? She smiles and says Ciao and waives ever so sweetly…hmm…so I get on the next bus to Florence and arrive at the station just a 10 min walk from the Hostel at 16:35..I speed walk there like those older ladies do at the track and run to front desk..yeah…they know about me missing the bus. Embarrassed yes. He says to meet the bus at the pickup point and they will have my bag no big deal happy you are safe. I make up a story and left. I get there at 17:00 when they promised to arrive..no bus..wait…wait…wait..17:20 I’m worrying…17:25 I am sure they dropped off elsewhere…I run back to hostel sweating like a fat kid that just ate cake and trying to get a blue star in PE class. I get there..uh she called and said they are running behind go back. Mind you it is now 17:30 and I have a bus leaving at 17:45 for the 70min trek to the Pisa airport. If I don’t make this plan I miss the next plan etc etc…A mess and expensive. I walk/jog back towards the bus stop where they are supposed to be coming late…Almost there and pissed as can be I spot my backpack on a gentleman’s back…embarrassed they spot me…yeah..the whole bus knew it was me. The tall dude dressed in black. They said they ran circles calling Fisher in the parking lot hoping to find me. I grab the pack with many thanks and b-line for the bus station down the road. Speed walking again I dodge slow window shoppers and random cigarette smokers scattered across the sidewalk. The bus/train station is quite large…where is this airport bus supposed to be? No clue. I scurry up there watching the watch. 14:44 then 14:45 I’m screwed they always leave on time…I notice in the distance a white bus closing the storage doors. Can’t be mine…I near it and what do you know there she is in all her glory! I run up waiving my pass. After checking it Mr. No Personality opens the compartment again so I can throw in the backpack. I had this dude before when I arrived in Florence. I say Grazie 5 times but with no response…of course. Geez get a new job. I get on dripping with sweat. I am self conscious like nothing else and sit erect in the seat so I can dry from all sides. I am afraid I am going to reek like that dude on the airport bus in Paris. The whole ride I breathed through my mouth but could still taste the B.O. You know like passing those dairy farms where you can taste the smell of the cows? Just like that. I dry off nicely during the long ride. Everything goes like magic and I am on the plane back to Barcelona. Whew. What a day. My Euro supply is running slim so I make note and plan on finding one of the many ATMs on Las Ramblas in Barcelona when I get to the Hostel. I am in the comforts of the Barcelona I became to love. Nothing like walking down the street at 12am every other dude offering you drugs and beer and the abundance of hookers clucking at you annoyingly. Make it to the hostel and they take every last bit of my Euros. I take a half hour to chisel all the days nervous sweat off before I venture out on the noisy street to find some cash. If I don’t get cash I can t get to the airport in the AM to catch a flight. First ATM nothing, second ATM nothing, third fourth etc. You’ve got to be kidding me haven’t I gone through enough? 20 no kidding 20 later I find BBVA (thanks Compass Bank) and the wonderful thing call Euros come flying out….ahhh….I’m in my bunk now writing this not wanting to lose the thoughts of the day. Tomorrow is another day filled with tight deadlines…let’s hope the storm has calmed. Sorry for the long entry and read but had to share. Night-h