>From Siena we rode along more perfect roads to San Gimignano, finding frescoed churches that were as packed with painted scenes as a biker’s tatooed forearm, and many medieval towers — if you were anyone back then, you had your own tower. Riding on to Florence the streets were empty because it was a Sunday, and emptier because Italy would soon be playing France in the World Cup final.

We found the campground and had a passeggiata before the game, then parked ourslelves near one of the large screens in a hilltop piazza — there was literally nothing else you could do in the city and probably the entire country while Italy played.

When Italy scored to tie the game, the place predictably went ballastic. Even the copy of Michelangelo’s David in the square was waving a flag (as well as the people perched on his shoulders). We watched the second half back at the campground to get a better view of the screen, and found the French fans were holed up there with their chants for the bleu, which only got louder when Zidane got ejected. They finally turned quiet when France lost in the penalty round, and we headed out to the square to the screams and traffic and mayhem all around the city. We finally went to bed at 2:00 when fifty thousand car horns could still be heard.

The rest of our stay in Florence was counter to everything we’ve been experiencing so far on the trip — museums, tasty vegetarian restaurants, a storm of tourists, and long lines everywhere. It’s a drag when we’ve been so independent and self-reliant to follow the rules and timetables that the system mandates.

Florence’s Uffizi Gallery houses so much great art, it was not to be missed despite the 2+ hour wait. Boticelli’s Birth of Venus and Primavera, Da Vinci’s Annunciation, Rembrandts, Rubens, Caravaggios.

But what started with awe as we visited the museums and frescoed churches of Tuscany turned somewhat flat after seeing so much art in a short time. I thought I’d be sick if I saw another variation of Madonna with Child. Still, most suprisingly, what moved me the most at the Uffizi and perhaps all of Tuscany was Michelangelo’s Madonna with Child (so sculptural looking — as if the Virgin had been hitting the gym). Susana’s favorite was the Birth of Venus.

On our last night in Florence we ran into Philip Glass giving a free concert in Piazza della Signoria, and then said goodbye to the crowds and lines and great Tuscan riding by taking the train to Cuneo the following day, to keep up with our schedule. Actually we took five trains which was required in order to take our bikes along.

Cuneo sits at the base of the Alps in Piedmont, where we plan to ride up and over into France, at the Col Agnel, 2,744m (9,002ft), along a route featured in this year’s Giro d’ Italia. It didn’t phase me when various people gasped that we’d be doing this by bike, until talking with a bike shop mechanic in Busca who raised an eyebrow at that prospect and warned us of the 13-15% grades. But we continued on and are now in Sampeyre for the night (978m), just before the real climbing begins.

We’ve noticed that in this part of Italy people are more curious and likely to ask about our trip, as the woman at the grocery store did just a moment ago, then told nearly everyone in the store “these two have ridden around Croatia, Greece, Italy and are now in magical Sampeyre!” A stream of people wished us a good trip as we continued shopping for our dinner.

Since we’re in the mountains where more people are hiking and biking, we’re finally able to find all kinds of energy drinks and power bars that are handy while riding, and even a goo-like milk concentrate that you can ooze into your mouth. Mmm, it looked too good to resist that I’ll have to report about it in France.