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Sleepless in Siena...to this day, that is how we remember that night.
Fat raindrops plopped noisily on the graying stone of the ancient piazza. Swords of lightning pierced the Cimmerian sky, crazily lighting up the lifeless windows of the Medieval buildings glowering down on us as they encircled the piazza, outlining our cobblestone cocoon. We sat huddled in the dubious comfort of a darkened doorway, our backs against our packs, our arms hugging our legs, our expressions grim. We were the only people about, abandoned to the night.

With a summer storm brewing and darkness creeping in, my husband and I discovered there was no room at the inn...any inn. We had traveled to Italy, a dream trip long awaited. The kids grown, the dog attended, the plants watered - it was finally our turn. Months of research and planning prefaced our departure. We pored over guidebooks, devoured videos, and scrutinized websites. As we plotted our journey for the "shoulder season," we heeded the advice of the travel sages: secure overnight reservations for only the first few nights and make the rest as you go, calling ahead two or three days prior to arrival at the next destination.

All was running smoothly. Halfway through our trip we arrived in Florence, secure with hotel reservations for our stay in that statue-studded city of art. I immediately started calling ahead for our near-future jaunt to Siena, Medieval jewel of Tuscany. Over the next two days, in between jaw-dropping visits to David, mind-boggling hours wandering the Uffizzi Gallery, and playing hide and seek with the milk marble statues of the Boboli Gardens, I called. I dialed my way down the pages of every guidebook in my bag. The same word kept ringing into my sore ear: "completo" - full.

Undaunted and optimistic, we gave ourselves over to fate. Something would surely turn up. our day of departure to Siena arrived and we confidently boarded the "autobus" that would bounce us through verdant rolling hills, past vineyards heavy with harvest, zipping us to our next temporary home. Emerging from our wheeled cocoon, our first solid steps onto the cobbled stones of an ancient street transported us back in time. This was Medieval Siena and we were instantly enchanted. However, still without accommodations for the night, we knew we could not yet succumb to the spell of the age-old town until we had found a place to set our packs and lay our heads. More calls, frantic now. More "completo," regretful but firm. Enchantment soon turned

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