I started my morning in the National Gallery of Umbria. I must say that I felt very elegant traipsing around a museum at 10 AM--my roommates still lethargic, sleeping off last night’s amusing endeavors. But when I realized how little I knew about Etruscan art, how little I cared about Etruscan art and how absolutely stifling the museum was, my elegant status quickly reduced to sweaty tourist just keen to return home.

That isn’t to say that I don’t hold an appreciation for ancient artifacts, I’d just rather not look at a life size statue of the Crucifixion at 10 in the morning—something about it seems to make my insides turn upside down; it’s inexplicably nauseating. But of course, that might also be last night’s wine talking.

We had begun this past weekend with plans to take a trip to Elba. With the hope of sunning ourselves and enjoying some gorgeous Italian scenery, we called to make a reservation at a popular bungalow spot, only to be told curtly that there would be no space for the entire weekend. So, onto plan B: Cortona, Italy. By no means a beach or an island, Cortona is an ancient hill town over looking the Tuscan countryside.

Cortona is a thirty-five minute train ride away from Perugia. The scenery on the train ride is decent enough. Although I must say, doesn’t it seem like railroads attract the ugliest of structures and construction? I feel like all one does is look out the window, hoping for a beautiful Tuscan landscape and instead is blinded by the “Police R Pegs” (error intended) and “Make Knitting Not War” (I must take up knitting) spray painted buildings. But the breathtaking, panoramic view that Cortona offer’s, makes up for what the train ride lacks.

We arrived at the train station and found a sweet, endearing cab driver willing to take us up to the main piazza, Piazza Dell’Repubblica. Cortona is located on a very steep hill that has no main train station. There are less than 1,000 residents. Truly a tinsy, tiny town, teetering over Tuscany.

Cortona, for those of you who don’t know, is home to Frances Mayes, the author of Under The Tuscan Sun. At first a book, later rewritten for the silver screen into a production that my father wholeheartedly adores, Under The Tuscan Sun is truly everywhere in Cortona. Posters of Diane Lane cake the medieval walls, a veritable soothing endorphin. There is nothing more comforting than that beautiful woman’s face plastered across a small Italian town. I’m sure my father would agree.

After half an hour of walking uphill and dipping into precious little soap shops, we stopped for lunch at a place called Osteria Del Teatro. Greeted eagerly by the maitre’d, we were seated promptly in the mutedly lit dining room, leather-bound menus placed in our hands.

The menu was limited, due to the late hour at which we ate, so there were not as many choices to be had. But we made due and managed to order exceptionally: Cheese Fondue with Umbrian Truffles, Pasta Caramels with Radicchio, Bacon and Roasted Pine Nut Sauce, Mushroom Risotto with Saffron Sauce and Tagliatelle with Duck Ragu. To satisfy the collegiate hunger in all of us, we also ordered a liter of house red to accompany the meal.

“In Breve” (Italian for “In Short”), the meal was deeply and unaccountably satisfying. Practically waddling our way back through the streets made me extremely happy to have finally had a rewarding Italian meal.

What a fascinating country, Italy. With its lackadaisical time system, stubborn food politics and overwhelmingly rich culture, there seems to be never a dull moment. Whether in a museum, at a restaurant in Cortona or on the minimetro in Perugia, Italy seems to have imbued me with a sense of curiosity. The Italy that I imagined is vastly different from the Italy I am experiencing. After only having been in Perugia for one week, I cannot claim to know Italian culture and therefore cannot contest nor defend my initial imaginings. I trusted my imagination and to a certain extent, my hope, and was lead to Italy. But what I can say, what I have learned, is to accept the late arrival of all Italians, the inflexible views in relation to food and the blinding amount of beautiful culture that resides here on this hill in Umbria.