Today’s adventure: getting to San Gimignano. One would think it’s easy: get on a train to Poggibonsi, grab the local bus to San Gimignano, and you’re done. If, like us, you thought that, you would be very wrong. Not just a little wrong, as in saying a tomato is a vegetable, but very wrong, as in saying a tomato is a suspension bridge.
It all started with our train from Monterosso being 50 minutes late. No problem we said; sit in the shade and enjoy the relaxed atmosphere of this great beach town. Boarded the train, got to our first stop: Pisa. It’s worth mentioning that the only valuable thing in Pisa is its train station. Getting out to see the poorly designed tower that’s leaning is an exercise in losing faith in humanity. The place is full of tourists trying to strike the same pose next to a leaning tower.
Sadly, the Pisa train station, unlike most places outside a train station in the entire country, isn’t a temple to food greatness. Instead, it’s occupied by a McDonald’s and a small out-of-the-way pre-made sandwich shop. With only 30 minutes for our connection, we would need to make a compromise, a little stale focaccia and a bottle of water comprised our entire lunch.
From Pisa, I made it to Empoli with a five-minute connection on the smallest possible train. Engines on both ends, with each a small passenger section. That’s it. It should have been our first clue that no one takes the train to small-town Tuscany.
Just about eight stops later, we’re in Poggibonsi. To our dismay, we find that where the bus station should be, there’s now construction everywhere. Google Maps is less than helpful, and Transit is even worse at helping us find the bus stop. It’s now 15:08. Our original plan had us arriving in San Gimignano at that time. We’re a little hungry, it’s 32ºC, there’s no shade, and the sun is baking us to a crisp. Braised Karine is nothing like happy Karine.
We start walking along what Google Maps shows as the road our bus follows until we reach another stop. The problem is that there’s no indication anywhere that our bus (number 130) stops anywhere. We did see bus 133 pass by, and it does share some of the stops with 130, so we figure we’re in the right place. We downloaded the regional transit system's app. It seems, after much agreeing to terms (about three times) and much loading (every screen has a spinner and a loading indicator on it) we found that both Google and it said we should see a 130 pass by us within 12 minutes (15:20). Still no shade in sight we wait, and wait, but no bus show up, by 15:30 we are cooked. We saw on a city map across the street that there were indications for the local tourist information center. We choose to abandon our stop and make our way there to confirm where we should wait for the 130 bus schedule to pass at 16:04.
Good news! The information center is marked as being right in front of the train station, we know where that is, we just came from there. Bad news, we found signs pointing to the information center, but no actual information center. We did find a friendly bus driver who informed us to wait for the bus across the street. It’s 15:45 by then. We see a spot in the shade (Yay!) and wait. A little before 16:00, other people come over and ask us, in Italian, if it’s the right spot for the bus to San Gimignano. Confident in the bus driver's information, we say yes. 16:10 comes by, and we see a 130 bus pulling in. We’re glad to see it and not too surprised that the Italian sense of punctuality extends to its bus service. To our surprise, however, the sense of approximation of Italian also applies to bus stops, as, instead of stopping in front of us at the bus stop, the 130 rolls right by us and stops at the following stop about 40 meters from us and a couple of other people, all convinced we are waiting in the right spot.
Frantically, we run to the bus and ask the driver if it is indeed the promised bus to San Gimignano. To our dismay, no.
It is a 130 bus. It is continuing on its journey, but it’s not the 130 bus going to our destination. That’s a different 130 bus. Silly us, we foolishly thought that a numbered bus would have a single line. How small-minded are we? We’re, however, told the correct bus will be over and that we’re now in the proper spot.
It’s now close to 16:20. Well past when Google and the transit app told us we should be on our way by now. We’re also nowhere on the line where Google says we should be. Karine and I start looking at accommodations at Siena (where we’re heading tomorrow anyway), and just as we’re about to say fuck it, let’s catch a train out of this hellhole, a new 130 pulls up, and it confirms it is going to San Gimignano.
If everything Karine had read on the subject hadn’t told her that San Gimignano was the quintessence of a Tuscany town, we would have left anyway; still, we decided to give it a go. Twenty minutes later, we’re at the town’s gate, and oh boy, is it a nice place!
Checking in to the hotel, we apologize to the hostess as we had said we would be arriving around 15:00. It’s now 17:10. She asked if we came by the bus, once we answered by the affirmative she gave us the understanding nod and smile of someone who would never take the bus to San Gimignano and understands why we’re two hours late. Needless to say, we’ve booked a cab for our return and will happily pay 30€ for the pleasure of leaving our hotel at noon.
We’ve spent the evening walking around the small, beautiful medieval town and drinking local white wine. Enjoying a well-deserved peace and quiet. For the next while, if anybody tells us it’s not the destination, it’s the journey that counts. In that case, they can be assured they’ll receive very harsh words describing anatomically impossible things they can do to themselves and the horse they rode in on.
