Currently in Florence. Every muscle of my body hurts. Including muscles that I didn’t know I had and muscles that I’m pretty sure I don’t have. We took a gentle bike ride up to Fiesole and a winery. “Gentle”, of course, meaning a grueling course that seemed to include several miles straight up. I should have known that we were in trouble when the tour guide pointed up to a tiny, tiny little fortress up on the top of a very distant, very, very tall hill and said “That’s where we’re going.” Never a good sign. Even my fingers hurt. As I’m typing, I’m saying ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.

We arrived yesterday afternoon, but still had time to check out the Duomo. 465 steps (nowhere near as many as St. Paul’s, but enough). On the way up we got a good look at the paintings around the dome. One of the more memorable bits was the depiction of some really unfortunate souls in hell, being tortured by devils with hot pokers. The hot pokers were going where no poker has any business being. Dave drew some comparisons with the abuse his posterior took from the uncomfortable bike seat. All in all, I think our 15 mile bike ride deserved a spot on the Duomo’s depiction of hell.

Tomorrow we’re off to Rome. My next blog should be from there.