Maddie and I were staying somewhere in Tuscany (how romantic). It was hot, buggy, and filled with tourists (not romantic). We brought our bikes (romantic?). But the only roads in our vicinity were either filled with those tourists driving for the first time in their life, or Italian drivers angry at tourists.
So we packed our bikes and headed to what "Italian cyclist dot com" called the most iconic climb in the area. After all, we're tourists. I brought my little camera that weighs a ton. Tourist. I immediately regretted bringing my little camera (that weighs a ton). The bottom of the climb was steep, humid, rutted out, and didn't inspire taking a photo. Oh, and packed with cars. I was just fighting for my life, wiping sweat off my face every other second. Eventually, after wiping away sweat tirelessly, I accidentally rubbed out a contact lens. If you're as blind as me, you understand how frustrating this is. I didn't want lugging my camera around to be for nothing, so I took a ton of blurry, useless, shot-with-one-eye photos, messing up the settings every which way with sweaty hands. And of course, I only brought one battery.
By the time the air became cooler, the grade lessened, and the sweat dissipated from my forehead, my camera was about to die. Just then, we could start to see we were finally above some mountains and clouds. Of course.
Then we started hitting long stretches of tunnels. Tunnels that smelled like undryable wet concrete and World War II–era car exhaust. Tunnels where the center is dark enough to necessitate using the flashlight on your phone, and the light at the end turns to a pin. Tunnel after tunnel, switchback after switchback, we were eventually above the mountains and eye level with clouds. Then the tunnels became almost broken down, as if they had window panes that framed the countryside.
"I can't believe I took 80 horrible photos. I have no other battery. It's not like I do this for a fucking living."
Then we stumbled here. One mile from the top. I don't know if it was a mile - that just sounds better. I went to take a photo to see if I liked it enough to sprint ahead of Maddie.
‘Battery exhausted, please recharge’
I knew this was usually a warning and I could get at least two more shots.
"Okay, I'm going to go ahead - you see that tunnel up ahead? I think it has a real opening to the left."
This was the last photo before the battery went completely fuckity fuck.
So, “(tourist) in Tuscany” is equal parts never-ending tunnel, wet concrete, WWII car exhaust, and one contact lens shy of a full pair. And Maddie, obviously.
Maddie and I were staying somewhere in Tuscany (how romantic). It was hot, buggy, and filled with tourists (not romantic). We brought our bikes (romantic?). But the only roads in our vicinity were either filled with those tourists driving for the first time in their life, or Italian drivers angry at tourists.
So we packed our bikes and headed to what "Italian cyclist dot com" called the most iconic climb in the area. After all, we're tourists. I brought my little camera that weighs a ton. Tourist. I immediately regretted bringing my little camera (that weighs a ton). The bottom of the climb was steep, humid, rutted out, and didn't inspire taking a photo. Oh, and packed with cars. I was just fighting for my life, wiping sweat off my face every other second. Eventually, after wiping away sweat tirelessly, I accidentally rubbed out a contact lens. If you're as blind as me, you understand how frustrating this is. I didn't want lugging my camera around to be for nothing, so I took a ton of blurry, useless, shot-with-one-eye photos, messing up the settings every which way with sweaty hands. And of course, I only brought one battery.
By the time the air became cooler, the grade lessened, and the sweat dissipated from my forehead, my camera was about to die. Just then, we could start to see we were finally above some mountains and clouds. Of course.
Then we started hitting long stretches of tunnels. Tunnels that smelled like undryable wet concrete and World War II–era car exhaust. Tunnels where the center is dark enough to necessitate using the flashlight on your phone, and the light at the end turns to a pin. Tunnel after tunnel, switchback after switchback, we were eventually above the mountains and eye level with clouds. Then the tunnels became almost broken down, as if they had window panes that framed the countryside.
"I can't believe I took 80 horrible photos. I have no other battery. It's not like I do this for a fucking living."
Then we stumbled here. One mile from the top. I don't know if it was a mile - that just sounds better. I went to take a photo to see if I liked it enough to sprint ahead of Maddie.
‘Battery exhausted, please recharge’
I knew this was usually a warning and I could get at least two more shots.
"Okay, I'm going to go ahead - you see that tunnel up ahead? I think it has a real opening to the left."
This was the last photo before the battery went completely fuckity fuck.
So, “(tourist) in Tuscany” is equal parts never-ending tunnel, wet concrete, WWII car exhaust, and one contact lens shy of a full pair. And Maddie, obviously.
