A regular afternoon deteriorates

Warning: British spelling may be used in this post. If encountered, simply continue as if nothing happened.
Note: Actual pictures taken from our frivolous escapades will be uploaded as soon as is feasible*.

We awoke this morning to the nefarious clamour of middle-aged Italian men dressed less stylishly than the stereotype of Italian men (from Italy) demands. Surely the incessant noise was either because they were busy chatting up the waitress at the Kopa Kabana Gelateria across the street, or because they felt compelled to tear across the medieval paving stones on their Vespas. In a word, cacophony.

With the exception of one Jordan Andrew Hurwich, we left relatively early and decided to visit the Duomo, an exquisite cathedral constructed entirely of white and black marble (pictures forthcoming, but for now this is fine). Highlights include a myriad of inlaid marble engravings all over the floor of the cathedral, statues of the Apostles towering over the mortals on the ground level, and a room with vellum hymnals, decorated with particularly fine line and paintwork, and generous helpings of gold.

After the treat that was the Duomo, we entered the small museum neighboring the cathedral, which also connected to a very high arched wall that was built in the same fashion and time period, but which was not continued further due to budgetary constraints in the 16th century [citation needed!!]. The top of the arched wall afforded a legendary view of Siena and its surrounding environs. Needless to say, we engaged in all manner of intellectual conversation: where one should found one's fortress citadel ("That hill looks more defensible from the North"), the moral responsibility of prosperous human settlements, and its relatively blessed inhabitants, to tackle the problems of socioeconomic inequity (Case Study: Oxford, England), and (of course) the nature of the observable universe and the conceptual absurdity of string theory to the grandiloquent college graduate (none of whom graduated in Physics). Of less important mention are the subjects of teleporters, teleportation, and near-instantaneous translocation (the present contention being that such technologies would vastly reduce the time and discomfort wasted on traveling, especially via American domestic routes).

At this point I have to let you all know that outside the Duomo ticket office, we found a street performer who was playing an accordion. "That's terribly interesting," you say. In fact, he was playing some rather complex/difficult, but well-known classical pieces, including, but not limited to: Beethoven's 5th Symphony first movement, Vivaldi's Four Seasons: Winter concerto third movement, and Mozart's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor. All on the accordion, with two hands each with 5 fingers, and two arms to boot. I also bought his CD in between applause from the gathering crowd of onlookers.

The early afternoon saw the fellowship divide into three parts: Jordan to the Internets Cafe, Tom and Ron to... er, the apartment and then coffee..., and Natasha and Zhi to the Crypt and the Baptistry of the earlier Duomo. There is nothing particularly savory to detail here, other than that the cathedral is situated on a very steep hill, and the Baptistry and the Crypt were in part built at the bottom of the hill (Baptistry at bottom, Crypt on top of that) so that the main cathedral could be built on top of both like a flat piece of land. The crypt contained many reliquaries of saints and other important people, and also a Romulus and Remus statue with the she-wolf. All of this was also to show off the artistry and finery of Sienese goldsmiths during the 15th-16th centuries, who worked upon the aforementioned artifacts.

You might be wondering at this point why this post came attached with an ominous title. Things were going just fine at this point - quite dandy, to be honest. Natasha and Zhi were chilling at the Campo, the large main public square in the city. Tom was wandering somewhere around town on his own looking for a hideout to sit back, relax, and do some quality reading.

But Jordan and Ron had decided to embark upon a conquest of monumental proportions: laundry at the local Laundry Express. All was going well. The detergent was bought, the clothes were sorted, the correct buttons pressed, and the clothes had even begun their washing cycle. 25 minutes into this miracle another sign appeared. Feeling parched, Jordan conjured the need for Diet Coke. Deflecting all persuasion attempts by Ron, who tried to get him to walk out, take a right and walk 10 yards to the cafe two doors down the street, Jordan insisted on getting a warm Diet Coke from the unplugged soda machine.

He got to his knees, then his hands, crawled under the large table, found the power plug for the machine and stuck it straight into the nearest socket. With overwhelmingly underwhelming gravity, instead of the lights behind the coke bottle image slowly flickering to life, the entire room went pitch dark. Washers stopped mid-load with the sound of muted sloshing. Dryers slowly wheezed as their internal momentum was spent, powerless to continue.

In a matter of seconds that felt like an eternity watching the stars wheel overhead, the inconceivability of the present circumstance slowly dawned on the two. Without further ado, Jordan whips out his trusty LED flash-light ("You never know") and proceeds, in robotic fashion, to troubleshoot the problem. After several seconds of internal processing, he determines that troubleshooting routines 9 and 12 should be enacted (in any order): 9 - Unplug the soda machine and carry out observations thereafter. 12 - Call for help. An additional subroutine also turned on Mode 32: Evasive Maneuver (75%) - physical, emotional, mental and verbal behaviours to be tailored to impart the impression of partial but not full responsibility for a negative outcome.

Chaos himself strode into the laundrette with the greatest poise and smoothness. The entire shop was searched high and low for a circuit breaker: none was to be found. By this time, Natasha and Zhi had also arrived at the laundrette. We moved trash cans in front of the now-unlocked washers, thankful that our clothes were already on their rinsing cycle, and proceeded to manually wring them out into the trash cans before piling them neatly on a slightly damp shelf behind us. Other patrons then began to enter: first uncertainty, then confusion, then disbelief, and more often than not... anger! They were not so fortunate. Clothes were coming out of their washers still sudsy, and new patrons who were arriving sat down impertinently while they waited for the owner to arrive.

Arrive they did - but not after Ron had to speak Portuguese and broken Italian to a man (woman?) on the other line. The first attempt by the owner was even then unsuccessful - clearly he had not opened the circuit box for years. Trust Jordan to realign his important necessities. Finally, the circuit box was opened. Power was restored. An afternoon that had devolved into near anarchy had been, alas, avoided.

Tired and exhausted, the weary crew made their way back home.

*I.e. not drunk, or about to go to sleep because we are drunk