Cortona (not Corona)

I arrive at the Camucia-Cortona station and I am the only one to get off the train. Rick says to take the bus into town, but the schedule isn’t listed (anywhere I can find), the tabacchieri isn’t open (where I would buy a ticket) and I’m in the mood to walk, so I head off in the direction of the town.

I walk for a ways and see a sign that says: Cortona – 3. I assume this means 3 km and finally put it together that Camucia must be the name of the town I’m in, but its the closest town to Cortona…thus the name on the train station. Okay, got it. In the mean time, 3 km is kind of a long way to walk, but like I said, I’m in the mood, so I’ll keep trekking and if I see a bus stop, I’ll pull over.

However, after I follow the first sign and make the first turn, I can see I’m going to be climbing a long slow hill. I’ve got no chance but to take a deep breath and head on up. About half way, I start getting pretty irritated with myself. What was I thinking? This is too hard. I’m sweaty, my back hurts, and I’m not wearing the right shoes for this. The road is narrow, not leaving much room for me when cars pass and there is a 10-inch curb every 5 feet, making it a real pain to tow my bag up and down. Then it starts to rain. No, not right now Lord – this is hard enough! I can’t do it!...I am thankful I have no blisters. I am thankful my legs can carry me…

When my bag topples over coming down a curb for what feels like the 100th time, a car pulls over and a woman asks me if I’m going to Cortona. (Yes.) Do you want a ride? (Yes!) Let me turn around…(O Lord, you’re so good to me!) So she swings back around to pick me up and when I see that it only gets steeper and windier; I laugh. Never would have made it; nope, nuh uh, no way, no how. Wow. Should’ve just waited for the bus.

Once we reach the top, she points me in the direction of the hostel, but I stop by the TI first; I’ve made enough poor decisions for one day. There I pick up a map and the woman asks me if I have a reservation at the hostel. (Noooo….) Well, it might be closed. (Arg.) Okay, thanks!

I set off in that direction anyway (what else to do?) and quickly see that I’ve got more uphill climbing ahead of me (ohhh, so by “hill town” you meant…HILLS). Sure enough, when I get there, it’s closed until March (scratch that piece of info down for RS) but they suggest a few convents. I find them on the map (See? I knew that was a good idea!) and head off in search of the nearest one (up more hills, I mean “streets”).

When I get there, there is no “reception” like at a hostel and I’m not sure what to do. I look around a little, but that doesn’t yield any clues, so I go outside to sit down and take a breather….uh, little help here Lord? I go back inside because I figure there simply must be a way to let someone know I’m here and want a room. Sure enough, this time I spy a call-button-intercom-thing, brilliant! I push it and sure enough someone answers me, and when I request a room, a moment later a cute, little, Italian nun appears. It’s 25 EU a night instead of the 15 EU I was hoping for, but I’ll take it.

She hands me the keys and I go in hunt of my room. It turns out to be an adorable little space, complete with a bathroom, vanity and writing table – woo hoo! (Still has that “holy” feeling, but less intimidating than the monastery.)