We set off in the morning, bidding Florence “arrivederci and good riddance!” after a gruelling few days, and head towards the rolling countryside of Tuscany. The itinerary for today is a tight one;

10.00: Depart Florence
10.00 – 11.00: Drive…
11.00 – 12.00: San Gimignano
12.00 – 13.00: Drive…
13.00 – 15.00: Siena
15.00 – 17.30: Drive…
17.30: Arrive Rome

One might even say it’s a disaster waiting to happen, but we’re optimistic and starry-eyed and nothing is going to get in our way today! Or so it seemed…

Getting out of the hotel proves to be our first hurdle. We wait patiently in the lounge while the car is sent for. (It’s been tucked away in the city carpark, since the hotel doesn’t have one of it’s own – problem you’ll find with most accommodation in condensed, Italian cities!) The valet eventually turns up, but we’re already a little behind schedule. Optimists ’til the end, we’re not too fussed this early in the day, and are still convinced that we can still get to Rome before nightfall. (Ha!)

En route to our first stop – and much to our surprise – we drive past what looks to be a forest of gravestones; a vast green field planted with rows upon rows of identical white crosses. Our curiosity and penchant for cemeteries persuades us to pull over and have a closer look.

We discover the Florence American Cemetery and Memorial nestled amongst the hills of Tuscany – 70 acres of land not just dedicated to, but gifted to the U.S., commemmorating the fallen soldiers who died liberating Rome from Hitler’s troops in 1944. It is the final resting place for 4,398 soldiers.

A truly moving experience, we walk the rows-upon-rows of graves, like perfectly manicured flower beds, and count the number of precious lives lost… every last one of them a hero. Down here, away from the highway, it is deadly silent (pardon the pun), and we whisper to each other afraid of disturbing the fallen.

If you’d like to visit, the cemetery is located 12km south of Florence, and is open to the public every day except Christmas and New Years Day. It is also free to enter.

We had worked up quite an appetite by now, so we made an impromptu stop at Greve for a light lunch. The little township is about 30km south of Florence, and is known for being the gateway into Italy’s Chianti region (Chianti happens to be one of our favourite summer wines – a coincidence? I think not!). We spent half an hour wandering through the main square, lined in shops and cafes, before ducking into Giovanni da Verrazzano Ristorante for a bite to eat. I don’t think you’d need more than an hour here, even if you stop for a drink or snack.

Realising we’d lost another hour, we trundled off past the most staggering scenery, stopping only momentarily now-and-then to take a few quick snaps. It feels as if we’ve stepped into the set of Under The Tuscan Sun.

After a few waylaid hours, we do eventually make it to the medieval village of San Gimignano. If you’ve read anything about this famous city, you’ll no doubt know that the guidebooks always warn against driving there; “cars aren’t permitted entrance“, and “parking spots outside are limited“… For once they were right. We did find a park after much ado (an illegal one, at that), and it was a substantial trek to the outer walls of the town (with one too many close-calls – there weren’t any pedestrian paths so we had to walk, delicately balanced, on the ledge between a fenced-off hill and a steep road), but I still maintain that driving through Tuscany is the best way to see it.

Once inside the fortress-like walls, we marvel at the stonework of the buildings, and the maze of pretty, narrow streets, spiralling and winding their way through San Gimignano. Lined in gift shops, restaurants, calligraphers, deli’s, museums, and gelateries, we easily lose ourselves in the heartbeat of this little town, forgetting that we are 16,000km from home… that is, until we see Masterchef’s Gary Mehigan walking out of a shop with his wife and children, decked out like just another tourist; polo shirt, sunnies and Nikon in tow.

We lock eyes with him, the look of silent recognition passing over our faces, and the grateful look of someone knowing he isn’t going to be bothered passing over his. We let them go on their way, undisturbed, invisible, celebrities to no-one but us.

But we’re determined to make up the lost time, so after only an hour-and-a-half we hightail it to Siena, racing the sun. We vow to each other to return one day soon. Without a doubt this would have to be my favourite city in all of Tuscany – Florence included.

This time, we don’t stop for any scenic photography – not even for the pretty girls sitting in chairs at 1km intervals along the highway. Who would have thought business was booming for prostitutes in Tuscany! (There’s not a truck-driver in sight, although I guess even weary travelers and truck drivers have needs?)

By the time we reach Siena and find a parking spot (again, we park some distance from the entrance), the light is dimming and we find ourselves walking hand-in-hand through a warm, Italian dusk, amber and golden against the grey cobbled streets. Our laughter echoes off the stone walls and our shadows dance playfully behind us, trying to play catch-up as we run towards the piazza.

We have just enough time for a quick dinner as the sun sets over the infamous Piazza del Campo – arguably one of Europe’s greatest squares. But just as Sydney’s Darling Harbour, or Prague’s Old Town Square, or Monte Carlo’s Marina, the restaurants here cater to the tourists. There will be no authentic fare to be found tonight, although our discovery of the Venetian Spritz was delicious! Glowing orange glasses surrounded us like fireflies – first one appearing over here, and then another over there, and then suddenly the whole forecourt was alive with them! Made of white wine, sparkling water, and bitters (or some similar combination), it is cool and refreshing after rushing around in the heat of a Tuscan summer.

By the time we finished up, it was past dark, and we were way behind schedule. We called the owners of our accommodation in Rome, let them know we were still in Siena (at which point they freaked out, but were still kind enough to agree to meet us after their dinner), and set off to find the car.

Sounds simple enough, right? But in the pitch black with no map, we were hopelessly lost in Tuscany. After running around in circles for half an hour, fear sets in, and we ponder our options. Do we get a room here and try to find the car in the morning light? Can we really afford to forgo our prepaid accommodation in Rome and fork out more money for a night in Siena? Can we ask a local to help? But how would they know where our car is?

Then, I have a brilliant idea – let’s try the GPS unit in my shoulder bag; Europcar always warn you to take the GPS with you, in case the car gets broken into. I whip it out and luckily the coordinates for Siena and our car spot are still on screen. But where are we? We walk back to the piazza, a landmark easy enough to find on the map, and try to plot our way back from there. But in the dark of night, North could be anywhere, and we’re not walking quickly enough for the GPS unit to tell us if we’re going in the right direction or not. We’d have to run 500m in either direction to figure it out – this could take awhile!

Suddenly, my husband has a flash of inspiration. If we look up to the sky, we may be able to see the emoticon building we found earlier in the day…. and there it is, our North Star, laughing at us from above. We follow it to the entrance we had walked into earlier today, and retrace our steps to the car, relieved to be out of the labyrinth!

But the night has just begun, and we have over 200km to drive before we can rest our heads on a comfy pillow for the night. Happy to see our familiar wagon once more, we jump in, stick the GPS to the windscreen, and off we go on our journey again, the relief washing over us in waves as the panic-set-adrenalin slowly fades away.

We trundle along the main road, chatting and laughing at our ordeal, when we realise the streets are getting narrower and narrower. This can’t be right. The buildings start closing in – so close we can peek into the window of a nearby gelaterie – and people are giving us strange looks. This can’t be a proper road, with restaurants setting up tables awfully close to the gutter – and hey, what’s that over there? An exit, finally!…

…As we drive right into the middle of Piazza del Campo! Our headlights shine in front of us, announcing our arrival to the patrons sitting at the restaurant we were at just a little while ago. We do a victory lap around the piazza like a show horse and trot off again, back through the tiny laneway, laughing our heads off at our blunder. Such clueless tourists we are. 🙂

You’ll be glad to know we did eventually make it to Rome, albeit six-and-a-half hours past schedule, around midnight! We pulled into the street our GPS was directing us into, only to hear the woop of sirens behind us. A pair of cops point to the “one way” sign above us and wait patiently, watching us reverse back out again, before going on their merry way. Just a friendly warning; in Sydney we’d have a hefty fine by now! Meanwhile, the owners of the apartment are waiting outside – as well as their dinner guests. They stay and chat awhile, and we finally managed to climb into bed an hour later. You’ve got to love the Italians. 🙂

And in case you were wondering, this is the distance we attempted to cover in one day, almost 400km! (and that’s just time spent driving, not to mention the time we spent walking through individual towns):

View Florence to Rome, Italy in a larger map

Completely crazy, but at least we have a great story to tell – and that’s what travel is ultimately about, right? Adventuring in the great, big, wide world, and making memories that will last a lifetime, and beyond.

Have you ever been lost in a foreign country? How did you find your way?

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