Finally at our hotel and totally beat and hungry after no sleep and much travel we could not check into our hotel. We asked the front desk where to go to eat until check in time. With extremely unhelpful directions we headed out with visions of pizza, gelatos, and cappuccinos. After wandering streets in scorching heat we found a map and headed up a giant slope towards what promised to be a collection of buildings with a coffee cup, plate and fork according to the map. The buildings, however, were 15^th century meditative sanctuaries built by St. Francis of Assisi; not the town we were looking for. Worse, the promised food attraction was a junk food vending machine. It was an amazing sight, though, and while there were no restaurants to be found I had to remind myself to enjoy the view and not to be grouchy from the travels. We walked in one of the chapels, I guiltily prayed for pizza and some sense of navigation, and took a moment to look out over Lago D’Orta (the gorgeous mountain lake we were above.  We then decided to walk back to the hotel for some better directions. It’s often mentioned how bubbily and friendly the Italians are; this hotel must be an exception. After unhelpfully being told “you have to walk more than two minutes (you lazy Americans), we explained that we had walked for an hour, but had ended up in a museum instead.  We finally received some slightly better directions and headed off again, this time finding an incredibly charming town square. It was truly spectacular. We ordered pizza, cokes, and of course, gelato. It was fantastic; thank you St. Francis. We meandered through tiny streets and explored the town, taking in the lakeside charm. We then went back to the hotel to check in and meet our Ciclismo group for an orientation meeting. At the hotel we were treated to sparkling wine and snacks, (St. Francis was on a roll), and met the nine other members of our tour, along with the two guides. After orientation we adjusted our bikes and headed out for a hilly warm-up ride of 13 miles. After the brutal travel from Germany to Italy I was toast and the warm-up ride was difficult. The heat didn’t help either – we hadn’t felt anything this warm since leaving Indiana. I was a bit worried about the trip but before I left Emily kept telling me over and that nothing compares to the cycling in Italia! We had dinner that night in the town square; a full five course meal that lasted 2.5 hours. The food was good, and Steven was in heaven – he got to discuss the Tour de France, soccer, and every other sport he loves but never has anyone to chat with about. After finally finishing off the last course and strolling back to the hotel, we crashed for the night.