Rickmav – Italy Trip Report: Three Weeks in Venice, Florence, Tuscany & Umbria
Feb 23rd, 2007, 08:28 AM
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Part VI – Communicating With Mechanics in Italian (or not!), Tackling the Fruit Machine and Falling in Love With San Gimignano
---------------------------------------
Near morning, when I have half awake, I have a nightmare. The strange thing is I know I'm having a nightmare, but can't stop it. There are veiled women standing outside our cottage and I see them every time I walk by the French doors. They are just staring at me. If I approach, they back up, once I move back, they move forward again. I'm getting more and more frustrated because I can't see their eyes. I bang on the door but they won't go away. Suddenly, a cat brushes by my leg and I realize I have left a window open. I tiptoe over to the window and grab one of the women's veils. Underneath, there is a flashing wrench where her eyes should be. Obviously, the BBC News we watched last night, with all the nonsense about Arab women removing their veils, and our car problem have come together in a very strange way!
After coffee and breakfast on the terrace, I call the 1-800 number for Hertz in Italy (there is a telephone in our cottage, which is a treat). Eventually, using my rudimentary Italian, I manage to find a person who speaks English. He is very nice, but not very helpful. He does not know what the flashing wrench symbol means and suggests I drive back to Florence. I tell him that is impossible - that is where the trouble began. And I haven't yet recovered from our treatment by the garage dictators. He does not understand what I mean; I tell him not to worry about it, what are our other options?
After a long time on hold, the nice fellow returns and says there is a Hertz representative in Montevarchi, the town with the IperCoop. Wonderful. I thank him profusely, hoping the car will make it down the mountain. On the way to Montevarchi, Rick breaks out in a sweat; he cannot believe how high we are and how small the road is. He was so focused on seeing the next few feet in front of us that he didn't get to see the vertical drops I glimpsed through the fog.
After driving around for a while, we finally locate the Hertz representative. Or so we think. It actually is a car dealership, with a garage; the connection to Hertz seems to be a tattered and grubby sign tucked off to the side. Rick tackles the mechanics first, some of whom are standing outside smoking. After a frustrating exchange of what I hope are not offensive hand signals, Rick comes to get me. I get no further and, in fact, may have insulted one of the men who frowns at me as if I remind him of someone he doesn't like. We back away - the mechanics have now picked up tools - and retreat into the small office around the corner.
I don't know how we manage to 'gesture' a salesman (talking him into anything is impossible) into coming to look at our car. He is confused and I wonder if he's thinking we are going to shove him in the boot. We show him our flashing wrench and he shrugs his shoulders. Does no one in this country know what the symbols on the control panel mean? I take out the maintenance manual and gesture for him to show us where we could look to figure it out. He takes the manual, smiles at me, says 'grazie', then walks away. Rick chases after him, retrieves the manual, and thanks him. The salesman scurries off.
We are beginning to think that our flashing wrench is either no big deal (my preference) or something so rare and horrible that no one has any experience with it (my secret fear). Common sense prevails and we decide to go to the IperCoop and buy some car oil, hopefully that will make the wrench go away. Luckily, we find a very nice young woman who speaks perfect English – I cannot find "Do you have the right kind of diesel oil for my Renault?" in my phrase book. (It is so embarrassing not speaking their language when we are in their country.) Rick pours it in before we leave the parking lot – and when we turn the ignition, the wrench is still there, but not flashing. We take that as a good omen.
Before we leave the IperCoop, we tackle the fruit-weighing machine. We remember to don the rubber gloves and carefully place the fruit in the plastic bags provided. Thankfully, everything is visual, so you just have to find the picture of the thing you are holding (fruit – frutta or vegetable – verdura). Put your item on the scale, press the picture and, 'presto', a tag spits out and you put it on the bag. We buy another dish at the takeaway, plus two small homemade pizzas that we'll freeze for later on – we plan to add all the leftover antipasti and mozzarella, proscuitto, etc. to make our own creation. For the road, we buy the Italian version of fast food – a delicious sausage wrapped in the softest, densest pastry.
We decide to tempt fate and use the self-service checkout. I don't know why we would try it in Italy; we don't even use the bloody thing at home! We think we are doing okay when it gives us the option to have the instructions in English – but then this loud, English voice booms out the directions. I get so muddled I can't scan anything and this very nice Italian woman comes over and helps us. Talk about not standing out as a tourist!
We retreat to our mountain aerie after our very stressful afternoon.
Livia the dog is waiting for us, and makes it clear to Rick that she is not happy that we have been gone for so long. They go for a long walk and I curl up on a lounger with my book. We feel a bit guilty that we are not traversing the hilltops in search of all that Chianti has to offer but when we look at our view, we can't see how it can get any better.
We have dinner on the terrace - pollo primavera from the IperCoop, and it is very tasty. The chicken breasts, still with the bone, are baked in a bit of oil and are lightly seasoned. They come with roasted, herbed potatoes and sweet carrots. It is so good.
Next day we decide to stay home. I can't believe how lazy we've become. I have to say that for the first time in many years I am relaxed - like a noodle. Rick is out walking with Livia – there was an incident yesterday involving a rambunctious male (dog, that is) and today Ally has given Rick a leash so he can better control Livia. Although at the pace they were moving when they left, I wonder if that will work out.
The weather is lovely, hot in spots, but with a cool breeze. And the trees offer shade if you want it. As many times as I examine the mountainside across from us, I always end up seeing another orangey-brown, jumbly, stone house tucked into the trees. As the clouds come and go, there are the most interesting shadows on the sides of the hills and I try, but can't, to capture the movement with my camera.
There are acres of olive trees below the terrace and I'm surprised they're not harvested yet. Ally says that they don't harvest theirs until mid-November and they pick them all by hand. Yikes! The olive oil here tastes so different from what we have in Canada. Kind of buttery and sweet. No wonder the Italians put it on everything.
Rick asks Ally why the ground underneath the trees is so dug up and she says that the wild boars come here at night to feed on the walnuts. And all this time I thought it was Rick making snuffling noises in his sleep!
Have finished reading 'A Thousand Days in Venice'. Would be interesting to hear what others think about it. I loved some of the writing, but to be honest didn't get the love story. I think her husband was a pain in the neck. However, something she said about being married really hit me; it's as if she wrote it for Rick and me:
"Living as a couple never means each gets half. You must take turns at giving more than getting...there are seasons in the life of a couple that function, I think, a little like a night watch. One stands guard, often for a long time, providing the serenity in which the other can work at something. One of you goes inside the dark place, while the other stays outside, holding up the moon."
Lyrically put.
Head off the next morning for San Gimignano. But first, we stop at the post office in tiny Moncioni to send a letter to my mom. I'm sitting in the car waiting for Rick when I notice this white snout poking in the driver's open window. Livia has followed us into town. When Rick returns we try to get Livia inside the car so we can return her to Bob & Ally. Nothing doing. All the inhabitants of the small village come out of their homes to see what all the fuss is about. So much for trying to blend in.
Finally, we drive very slowly back to the cottage with Livia running behind the car. I'm terrified that an oncoming vehicle is going to hit her. She seems very disappointed in us that we are leaving for the day.
I am a bit sceptical about going to San Gimignano. I expect a place that was once charming but is now overrun with tourists. But it is a glorious day and once we get off our mountain and more into central Chianti, we really enjoy the scenery. Less fir trees and vertical drops and more rolling hills and vineyards.
Rick Steves calls San Gimignano the 'epitome of a Tuscan hill town'. It has 14 medieval towers left of the original 60, and because it suffered a lot of poverty and disease from the 1350s on, has been left in a 14th c. time warp. Except for the tourists. But we are lucky. The early morning bus tours are just leaving when we arrive, and as we are walking out of the main gate, the next batch is unloading. So we really enjoy it without masses of people.
We stop and have lunch at Bar Firenze just inside the main gate. It's not that inspired but we can sit outside and people watch. I have tagliatelle with meat sauce, Rick ravioli. Costs 11 euros. Later we have gelato in the Piazza della Cisterna – I have double chocolate and Rick has 'rocha' with bits of toffee in it. Yum.
The town reminds me of a stage set for Romeo & Juliet. It is closed for traffic, except for a little bus that travels from some of the parking lots. (Thank you Stu for suggesting the Parcheggio Montemaggio, the parking lot right outside the Porta San Giovanni.)
There are tons of interesting shops, we spend a lot of time browsing. It is surreal to think, as we gobble down our gelato in the P. della Cisterna, that people having been using this square since the 9th century. Walk by a museum dedicated to torture (!!!). We didn't go in. But I do remember a mystery where the murderer visits the museum and uses something he sees as inspiration for his own instrument of death. Can't remember the name of it (maybe by Val McDermid?).
Walk to the park that overlooks the Tuscan countryside – amazing views. Someone is playing a flute, the air is warm and fragrant and there is a stillness that is almost holy. A couple are drinking wine on the walls overlooking the valley and I try to sneak their picture but they catch me. They just smile and go back to their wine.
I visit the public WC on the way back –a hole in the ground and unisex. A bit unsettling to come out of the little cubicle and a man is standing there waiting to go in.
On the way home, we stop and wander through Castellina-in-Chianti, Radda and Gaiole. All have lovely views, Gaiole is probably my favourite. We desperately want to stop at a vineyard for a taste but are worried about being alert enough for the challenging ride up the mountain. So, stop at the IperCoop instead and buy some Italian beer (Birra Peroni). Put it in the freezer for a bit and it is so delicious.
Have home-made pizza for dinner (using the base from the Coop and Ally's goodies from our welcome pack). We sit outside until it's late and have a great discussion about how our travels have changed us and how we will incorporate what we have learned into our life back home. Livia stays close to us; I think she has become quite attached to Rick. I know the feeling.
Next..Part VII – Getting Out of Third Gear, Quirky San Quirico and Chanting With the Monks
Part VI – Communicating With Mechanics in Italian (or not!), Tackling the Fruit Machine and Falling in Love With San Gimignano
---------------------------------------
Near morning, when I have half awake, I have a nightmare. The strange thing is I know I'm having a nightmare, but can't stop it. There are veiled women standing outside our cottage and I see them every time I walk by the French doors. They are just staring at me. If I approach, they back up, once I move back, they move forward again. I'm getting more and more frustrated because I can't see their eyes. I bang on the door but they won't go away. Suddenly, a cat brushes by my leg and I realize I have left a window open. I tiptoe over to the window and grab one of the women's veils. Underneath, there is a flashing wrench where her eyes should be. Obviously, the BBC News we watched last night, with all the nonsense about Arab women removing their veils, and our car problem have come together in a very strange way!
After coffee and breakfast on the terrace, I call the 1-800 number for Hertz in Italy (there is a telephone in our cottage, which is a treat). Eventually, using my rudimentary Italian, I manage to find a person who speaks English. He is very nice, but not very helpful. He does not know what the flashing wrench symbol means and suggests I drive back to Florence. I tell him that is impossible - that is where the trouble began. And I haven't yet recovered from our treatment by the garage dictators. He does not understand what I mean; I tell him not to worry about it, what are our other options?
After a long time on hold, the nice fellow returns and says there is a Hertz representative in Montevarchi, the town with the IperCoop. Wonderful. I thank him profusely, hoping the car will make it down the mountain. On the way to Montevarchi, Rick breaks out in a sweat; he cannot believe how high we are and how small the road is. He was so focused on seeing the next few feet in front of us that he didn't get to see the vertical drops I glimpsed through the fog.
After driving around for a while, we finally locate the Hertz representative. Or so we think. It actually is a car dealership, with a garage; the connection to Hertz seems to be a tattered and grubby sign tucked off to the side. Rick tackles the mechanics first, some of whom are standing outside smoking. After a frustrating exchange of what I hope are not offensive hand signals, Rick comes to get me. I get no further and, in fact, may have insulted one of the men who frowns at me as if I remind him of someone he doesn't like. We back away - the mechanics have now picked up tools - and retreat into the small office around the corner.
I don't know how we manage to 'gesture' a salesman (talking him into anything is impossible) into coming to look at our car. He is confused and I wonder if he's thinking we are going to shove him in the boot. We show him our flashing wrench and he shrugs his shoulders. Does no one in this country know what the symbols on the control panel mean? I take out the maintenance manual and gesture for him to show us where we could look to figure it out. He takes the manual, smiles at me, says 'grazie', then walks away. Rick chases after him, retrieves the manual, and thanks him. The salesman scurries off.
We are beginning to think that our flashing wrench is either no big deal (my preference) or something so rare and horrible that no one has any experience with it (my secret fear). Common sense prevails and we decide to go to the IperCoop and buy some car oil, hopefully that will make the wrench go away. Luckily, we find a very nice young woman who speaks perfect English – I cannot find "Do you have the right kind of diesel oil for my Renault?" in my phrase book. (It is so embarrassing not speaking their language when we are in their country.) Rick pours it in before we leave the parking lot – and when we turn the ignition, the wrench is still there, but not flashing. We take that as a good omen.
Before we leave the IperCoop, we tackle the fruit-weighing machine. We remember to don the rubber gloves and carefully place the fruit in the plastic bags provided. Thankfully, everything is visual, so you just have to find the picture of the thing you are holding (fruit – frutta or vegetable – verdura). Put your item on the scale, press the picture and, 'presto', a tag spits out and you put it on the bag. We buy another dish at the takeaway, plus two small homemade pizzas that we'll freeze for later on – we plan to add all the leftover antipasti and mozzarella, proscuitto, etc. to make our own creation. For the road, we buy the Italian version of fast food – a delicious sausage wrapped in the softest, densest pastry.
We decide to tempt fate and use the self-service checkout. I don't know why we would try it in Italy; we don't even use the bloody thing at home! We think we are doing okay when it gives us the option to have the instructions in English – but then this loud, English voice booms out the directions. I get so muddled I can't scan anything and this very nice Italian woman comes over and helps us. Talk about not standing out as a tourist!
We retreat to our mountain aerie after our very stressful afternoon.
Livia the dog is waiting for us, and makes it clear to Rick that she is not happy that we have been gone for so long. They go for a long walk and I curl up on a lounger with my book. We feel a bit guilty that we are not traversing the hilltops in search of all that Chianti has to offer but when we look at our view, we can't see how it can get any better.
We have dinner on the terrace - pollo primavera from the IperCoop, and it is very tasty. The chicken breasts, still with the bone, are baked in a bit of oil and are lightly seasoned. They come with roasted, herbed potatoes and sweet carrots. It is so good.
Next day we decide to stay home. I can't believe how lazy we've become. I have to say that for the first time in many years I am relaxed - like a noodle. Rick is out walking with Livia – there was an incident yesterday involving a rambunctious male (dog, that is) and today Ally has given Rick a leash so he can better control Livia. Although at the pace they were moving when they left, I wonder if that will work out.
The weather is lovely, hot in spots, but with a cool breeze. And the trees offer shade if you want it. As many times as I examine the mountainside across from us, I always end up seeing another orangey-brown, jumbly, stone house tucked into the trees. As the clouds come and go, there are the most interesting shadows on the sides of the hills and I try, but can't, to capture the movement with my camera.
There are acres of olive trees below the terrace and I'm surprised they're not harvested yet. Ally says that they don't harvest theirs until mid-November and they pick them all by hand. Yikes! The olive oil here tastes so different from what we have in Canada. Kind of buttery and sweet. No wonder the Italians put it on everything.
Rick asks Ally why the ground underneath the trees is so dug up and she says that the wild boars come here at night to feed on the walnuts. And all this time I thought it was Rick making snuffling noises in his sleep!
Have finished reading 'A Thousand Days in Venice'. Would be interesting to hear what others think about it. I loved some of the writing, but to be honest didn't get the love story. I think her husband was a pain in the neck. However, something she said about being married really hit me; it's as if she wrote it for Rick and me:
"Living as a couple never means each gets half. You must take turns at giving more than getting...there are seasons in the life of a couple that function, I think, a little like a night watch. One stands guard, often for a long time, providing the serenity in which the other can work at something. One of you goes inside the dark place, while the other stays outside, holding up the moon."
Lyrically put.
Head off the next morning for San Gimignano. But first, we stop at the post office in tiny Moncioni to send a letter to my mom. I'm sitting in the car waiting for Rick when I notice this white snout poking in the driver's open window. Livia has followed us into town. When Rick returns we try to get Livia inside the car so we can return her to Bob & Ally. Nothing doing. All the inhabitants of the small village come out of their homes to see what all the fuss is about. So much for trying to blend in.
Finally, we drive very slowly back to the cottage with Livia running behind the car. I'm terrified that an oncoming vehicle is going to hit her. She seems very disappointed in us that we are leaving for the day.
I am a bit sceptical about going to San Gimignano. I expect a place that was once charming but is now overrun with tourists. But it is a glorious day and once we get off our mountain and more into central Chianti, we really enjoy the scenery. Less fir trees and vertical drops and more rolling hills and vineyards.
Rick Steves calls San Gimignano the 'epitome of a Tuscan hill town'. It has 14 medieval towers left of the original 60, and because it suffered a lot of poverty and disease from the 1350s on, has been left in a 14th c. time warp. Except for the tourists. But we are lucky. The early morning bus tours are just leaving when we arrive, and as we are walking out of the main gate, the next batch is unloading. So we really enjoy it without masses of people.
We stop and have lunch at Bar Firenze just inside the main gate. It's not that inspired but we can sit outside and people watch. I have tagliatelle with meat sauce, Rick ravioli. Costs 11 euros. Later we have gelato in the Piazza della Cisterna – I have double chocolate and Rick has 'rocha' with bits of toffee in it. Yum.
The town reminds me of a stage set for Romeo & Juliet. It is closed for traffic, except for a little bus that travels from some of the parking lots. (Thank you Stu for suggesting the Parcheggio Montemaggio, the parking lot right outside the Porta San Giovanni.)
There are tons of interesting shops, we spend a lot of time browsing. It is surreal to think, as we gobble down our gelato in the P. della Cisterna, that people having been using this square since the 9th century. Walk by a museum dedicated to torture (!!!). We didn't go in. But I do remember a mystery where the murderer visits the museum and uses something he sees as inspiration for his own instrument of death. Can't remember the name of it (maybe by Val McDermid?).
Walk to the park that overlooks the Tuscan countryside – amazing views. Someone is playing a flute, the air is warm and fragrant and there is a stillness that is almost holy. A couple are drinking wine on the walls overlooking the valley and I try to sneak their picture but they catch me. They just smile and go back to their wine.
I visit the public WC on the way back –a hole in the ground and unisex. A bit unsettling to come out of the little cubicle and a man is standing there waiting to go in.
On the way home, we stop and wander through Castellina-in-Chianti, Radda and Gaiole. All have lovely views, Gaiole is probably my favourite. We desperately want to stop at a vineyard for a taste but are worried about being alert enough for the challenging ride up the mountain. So, stop at the IperCoop instead and buy some Italian beer (Birra Peroni). Put it in the freezer for a bit and it is so delicious.
Have home-made pizza for dinner (using the base from the Coop and Ally's goodies from our welcome pack). We sit outside until it's late and have a great discussion about how our travels have changed us and how we will incorporate what we have learned into our life back home. Livia stays close to us; I think she has become quite attached to Rick. I know the feeling.
Next..Part VII – Getting Out of Third Gear, Quirky San Quirico and Chanting With the Monks
Feb 23rd, 2007, 05:57 PM
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I've been to Italy 3 times and I get to go again this Spring. Since the first trip in '92, I have tried to read all the books that focus on Tuscany. Honestly, your "journaling" is exactly the kind of descriptive writing that I've been hungering for. You could write a book that I believe would quickly rise to popularity. You have a lovely way of conveying your experiences. I think individuals who have not yet visited Italy would read your writings and long to go. And those who have visited will be like me and experience our memories washing over us because of your accounts. Please give it some thought...
Feb 23rd, 2007, 08:05 PM
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Rickmav - Your report is so beautifully written! I'll be taking my first trip to Venice and Florence in three weeks and your stories and descriptions are providing me with that wonderfully anxious anticipation one gets when about to embark on what is sure to be an amazing travel adventure. I agree that you would be very successful at publishing travelogues! I do have a question though - LoveItaly mentioned something about looking at your photos, but I do not see a link in your report (unless I'm missing something). It sounds like you have a good eye and I would love to see your photos if you have made them available online. Would you be able to provide a link? Many thanks, and I'm looking forward to the next installment!
Feb 23rd, 2007, 08:27 PM
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Carly, I misspoke, I was thinking that rickmav had posted her photos but actually it was the trip reports of the other areas they visited.
But perhaps there will be a posting of photos. That is a hint rickmav!!!
But perhaps there will be a posting of photos. That is a hint rickmav!!!
Feb 25th, 2007, 04:19 AM
#52
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As a late starter always, I just read your Venice report 
It is fantastic. I enjoyed your write-up, and might use "gelato-virgin" and "Brunhilde" down the road!
Venice is quite special. I spent nine whole days nearly six years back, and it still is the most-fun town I have ever been to. Your report brings those memories back. Thank you.
It is fantastic. I enjoyed your write-up, and might use "gelato-virgin" and "Brunhilde" down the road! Venice is quite special. I spent nine whole days nearly six years back, and it still is the most-fun town I have ever been to. Your report brings those memories back. Thank you.
Feb 25th, 2007, 08:23 AM
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Hello everyone. Have been house-hunting so haven't had time to finish another report - I'm sorry, will hopefully get one up this afternoon. I want to respond to each of your kind comments, will do that with the report. Thanks for hanging in there.
Feb 25th, 2007, 09:32 AM
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We are on our way out the door to see some more houes, so will write a note to each of you when I return. Hope you enjoy our adventures in southern Tuscany.
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Part VII – Getting Out of Third Gear on the Autostrada, Quirky San Quirico and Chanting With the Monks
--------------------------------------
We go back down the mountain in the morning. We have decided to tackle the autostrada on our way to the southern part of Tuscany for the day. We get turned around in Montevarchi because the secondary road parallels the super-highway and we keep thinking we are never going to get on it. But, as with everything in Italy, you just have to be patient. It always turns out right.
The morning air is crisp and autumny. Fall is my favourite time of year and the further south we go the more ablaze with colours the trees are. Because there are so many fir, pine and cypress where we are in eastern Chianti, we haven't noticed how spectacular the fall colours can be.
We stop and get our ticket (biglietto) as we enter the autostrada, and hand it in and pay what we owe (2.50 euros for ½ hour) when we leave it. It's much simpler than I expected. The traffic is restrained and a bit disappointing compared to some of the reports I've read. We were prepared for a bit more 'salsa'.
We both agree that some of the 'M' roads in England are far more knee quivering – around Birmingham, for example, or driving towards London. Even the infamous 'Deerfoot Trail' at home in the city of Calgary is definitely more frightening. I think people assume that because you can go 130 kilometres/hr. on the autostrada, it's nothing but mad drivers hurtling past you. But you rarely get to go that fast - there are large semis passing each other, steep hills and only four lanes (at least on the bit that we were on). It's also easier because we are on the same side of the road as we would be at home. Rick enjoys getting the car out of third gear.
The one thing we do find challenging is that there aren't many exits, unlike England or in Canada, so you have to have a good map to figure out where you want to go and what is the best route off the autostrada. We manage okay although there are a few panicky moments as I struggle with the map and a corner of it obscures Rick's vision. For a few seconds all we see in front of us is the map of Tuscany. Gets our adrenaline going for the first time today.
Our first stop is San Quirico. There is free parking outside the walls and we use the little dashboard clock (it comes with the rental car) to note when we arrive. According to the information posted (hopefully, I've read it right) we are allowed to stay two hours.
We climb a set of tucked away little stairs against the town walls and enter San Quirico from the back streets – which is the best way to see it. We wander for a long time before we actually see anyone. Everything is quite neat and presentable – rows of pink geraniums in pots, a bright yellow canary in a cage on a balcony, a frutta and verdura shop with all the multi-coloured wares evenly arranged. Even the laundry hanging outside looks 'organized'. There are very few tourists when we are there (Thursday a.m.) – we seem to be ahead of the buses today. Lots of lovely streets to stroll and beautiful views. It's a very serene kind of place. We decide 'next' time we come to Italy, we are definitely going to try to rent an apartment here.
Then we drive south to Sant'Antimo. We stop at Montalcino on the way there, the views from the top of the hill are outstanding. Beneath the town are miles of vineyards - Kodak moment after Kodak moment.
The drive from Montalcino to Sant'Antimo is incredible; you descend from the heights of Montalcino and get right in amongst the vineyards – everything turning colour – set against emerald green hills. The Abbey sits in a valley and its travertine stone walls reflect the sun and give it this yellowish-pink glow. The Abbey was founded by Charlemagne in 781, but the present church dates from the 12th c. We arrive around 12:30 and are just in time to hear the monks chant.
Definitely, a sublime experience. As I sit on the wooden pew, with the light spilling in through windows high in the wall, near to the beamed ceiling, and with these beautiful voices and the haunting sounds, I am so at peace. I feel wise and humble, joyful and eternal. It is one of those places that must be connected directly to the Universe. The monks leave the big oak doors behind us open and outside you can hear the birds, and it sounds as if they are singing in tune with the monks. I even find myself humming/chanting along, although I have no idea what the words are, somehow the music is eternal and familiar.
We have lunch at Antica Osteria del Bassomondo, just across from the entrance road to the Abbey. It's fairly simple and family run and I do have to use my Italian, which is fun and a little embarrassing. We have pinchi ragu, which is a meat sauce with this great, fat pasta that reminds me of the Szechwan noodles we get when we order Chinese food at home. It's very tasty. Plus we order an 'insalata misti' (a mixed salad) –'un piatti per due' (one dish for the two of us).
We are getting to eat our pasta just like the Italians with a dollop of olive oil and freshly, grated parmesan cheese that is delivered to our table in a little, round silver holder. We put the tasty vinegar and oil on the salad, have a bottle of 'acqua minerale naturale' (water without gas –as they say) and feel quite replete. Although the staff is a bit grumpy, not with us, just generally, the food is great and I'd give this place two thumbs up.
In the front part of the restaurant is a deli where they make sandwiches. There are a lot of Italian men getting their lunch – most of them are covered head to toe in plaster dust. The sandwiches look very good.
Then we head further south on a driving tour we get from a Frommer's guidebook in our cottage. We climb very high again, the views are amazing and my little camera can't quite capture the intricate dimensions of it all. The sun is very bright and everything seems bathed in golden honey. We pass through Castiglione d'Orcia and Rocca d'Orcia, both crammed full of lovely, old buildings and stupendous views. I'm very impressed with Rick's driving, the road is like the end of a corkscrew.
There is very little traffic and we feel as if we have this part of Tuscany all to ourselves. We stop often to take pictures and admire the views.
The traffic is busier when we get back on the autostrada. We stop at an Autogrille to pick up some munchies – a very civilized and well-stocked rest stop. The English do this well, too. We have nothing like it in Canada. From Arezzo to Montevarchi, the traffic is very slow, there is obviously an accident ahead and police cars are trying to get past us. They end up having to go up on the shoulder. But finally, we begin our climb to our cottage.
Feeling a bit homesick, not sure why, I call my sister Vanessa. It's so nice to talk to her. I miss her log cabin in the mountains, the large, sun-filled great room, Charlie the black lab, and the smells from all the amazing things she cooks. We have scrambled eggs and toast for dinner, not that exciting but we are still full from lunch. Drink champagne on the terrace afterwards. It's hard to describe how 'bountiful' I feel, as if I am abounding with smells, warmth, tears, tastes, moonlight and happiness. I never expected that from Italy. That makes it sweeter.
We sleep late the next morning. Rick is reading 'A Thousand Days in Venice' and we have a long discussion over our morning coffee on the terrace about marriage. I am constantly amazed that after 30 years of being with this man, we still have so much to talk about. Of course, travelling heightens our discussions and adds another layer to the depth of our shared memory.
Later on, Rick takes Livia for a walk and has an 'incident'. He is mailing some postcards from the local post office, which has a sign saying 'No Dogs Allowed' (a picture of a dog with an 'X' through it), so Rick tells Livia to 'stay' on the front step, which she dutifully does. What he doesn't know – Ally tells us this afterwards – are that the Italians are somewhat afraid of this breed of dog (I don't know why, she couldn't be more gentle). So no one will enter or exit the post office. Voices are raised, the postmistress gets involved, Rick is trying to get out to get Livia – once he understands that there is some problem with her being there – but there are too many people in his way. Finally, he rescues her and the business of the post office can continue. Once again, we have failed to remain inconspicuous. Both man and dog come home exhausted and have to rest for a while in the warm sun.
While the two of them snooze, I write in my journal and drink some of Bob's delicious red wine. Motown's Greatest Hits are playing on the CD, the birds are singing, the laundry is drying, the church bells ring every one in awhile – I feel myself trying to physically capture what I am experiencing so I can relive it, later on, when I am in need of sustenance for my soul.
Later on, we pack our suitcases so we will be ready to leave early tomorrow. We are going to detour to Pienza on our way to our cottage in Umbria.
It will be hard to leave this place, it really is an earthly Eden. We will miss Livia; as we pack she senses that something is going on and sits at the French door peering in at us. Rick goes out to pet her every once in awhile, I almost think he feels the need to explain to her why we are leaving.
Being in this cottage in Chianti has forced us to slow down and really begin to make sense of the rich experience Italy has to offer. I think that is what has been missing from many of our other holidays. We have rushed from place to place, from checklist to checklist, everything a muddled blur at the end, but with a sense of satisfaction that we have seen the 'must see' things. But being satisfied is so small compared to what we have felt on this trip. Somehow, Italy has expanded what our expectations are for a holiday, have touched emotions we never knew were withering, have made us re-evaluate what the purpose of travel is. It's as if our hearts are bigger because we have been here.
Next...Part VIII – A Fall in the Bathtub, Pouty in Pienza and Bats in the Awning
-------------------------------------
Part VII – Getting Out of Third Gear on the Autostrada, Quirky San Quirico and Chanting With the Monks
--------------------------------------
We go back down the mountain in the morning. We have decided to tackle the autostrada on our way to the southern part of Tuscany for the day. We get turned around in Montevarchi because the secondary road parallels the super-highway and we keep thinking we are never going to get on it. But, as with everything in Italy, you just have to be patient. It always turns out right.
The morning air is crisp and autumny. Fall is my favourite time of year and the further south we go the more ablaze with colours the trees are. Because there are so many fir, pine and cypress where we are in eastern Chianti, we haven't noticed how spectacular the fall colours can be.
We stop and get our ticket (biglietto) as we enter the autostrada, and hand it in and pay what we owe (2.50 euros for ½ hour) when we leave it. It's much simpler than I expected. The traffic is restrained and a bit disappointing compared to some of the reports I've read. We were prepared for a bit more 'salsa'.
We both agree that some of the 'M' roads in England are far more knee quivering – around Birmingham, for example, or driving towards London. Even the infamous 'Deerfoot Trail' at home in the city of Calgary is definitely more frightening. I think people assume that because you can go 130 kilometres/hr. on the autostrada, it's nothing but mad drivers hurtling past you. But you rarely get to go that fast - there are large semis passing each other, steep hills and only four lanes (at least on the bit that we were on). It's also easier because we are on the same side of the road as we would be at home. Rick enjoys getting the car out of third gear.
The one thing we do find challenging is that there aren't many exits, unlike England or in Canada, so you have to have a good map to figure out where you want to go and what is the best route off the autostrada. We manage okay although there are a few panicky moments as I struggle with the map and a corner of it obscures Rick's vision. For a few seconds all we see in front of us is the map of Tuscany. Gets our adrenaline going for the first time today.
Our first stop is San Quirico. There is free parking outside the walls and we use the little dashboard clock (it comes with the rental car) to note when we arrive. According to the information posted (hopefully, I've read it right) we are allowed to stay two hours.
We climb a set of tucked away little stairs against the town walls and enter San Quirico from the back streets – which is the best way to see it. We wander for a long time before we actually see anyone. Everything is quite neat and presentable – rows of pink geraniums in pots, a bright yellow canary in a cage on a balcony, a frutta and verdura shop with all the multi-coloured wares evenly arranged. Even the laundry hanging outside looks 'organized'. There are very few tourists when we are there (Thursday a.m.) – we seem to be ahead of the buses today. Lots of lovely streets to stroll and beautiful views. It's a very serene kind of place. We decide 'next' time we come to Italy, we are definitely going to try to rent an apartment here.
Then we drive south to Sant'Antimo. We stop at Montalcino on the way there, the views from the top of the hill are outstanding. Beneath the town are miles of vineyards - Kodak moment after Kodak moment.
The drive from Montalcino to Sant'Antimo is incredible; you descend from the heights of Montalcino and get right in amongst the vineyards – everything turning colour – set against emerald green hills. The Abbey sits in a valley and its travertine stone walls reflect the sun and give it this yellowish-pink glow. The Abbey was founded by Charlemagne in 781, but the present church dates from the 12th c. We arrive around 12:30 and are just in time to hear the monks chant.
Definitely, a sublime experience. As I sit on the wooden pew, with the light spilling in through windows high in the wall, near to the beamed ceiling, and with these beautiful voices and the haunting sounds, I am so at peace. I feel wise and humble, joyful and eternal. It is one of those places that must be connected directly to the Universe. The monks leave the big oak doors behind us open and outside you can hear the birds, and it sounds as if they are singing in tune with the monks. I even find myself humming/chanting along, although I have no idea what the words are, somehow the music is eternal and familiar.
We have lunch at Antica Osteria del Bassomondo, just across from the entrance road to the Abbey. It's fairly simple and family run and I do have to use my Italian, which is fun and a little embarrassing. We have pinchi ragu, which is a meat sauce with this great, fat pasta that reminds me of the Szechwan noodles we get when we order Chinese food at home. It's very tasty. Plus we order an 'insalata misti' (a mixed salad) –'un piatti per due' (one dish for the two of us).
We are getting to eat our pasta just like the Italians with a dollop of olive oil and freshly, grated parmesan cheese that is delivered to our table in a little, round silver holder. We put the tasty vinegar and oil on the salad, have a bottle of 'acqua minerale naturale' (water without gas –as they say) and feel quite replete. Although the staff is a bit grumpy, not with us, just generally, the food is great and I'd give this place two thumbs up.
In the front part of the restaurant is a deli where they make sandwiches. There are a lot of Italian men getting their lunch – most of them are covered head to toe in plaster dust. The sandwiches look very good.
Then we head further south on a driving tour we get from a Frommer's guidebook in our cottage. We climb very high again, the views are amazing and my little camera can't quite capture the intricate dimensions of it all. The sun is very bright and everything seems bathed in golden honey. We pass through Castiglione d'Orcia and Rocca d'Orcia, both crammed full of lovely, old buildings and stupendous views. I'm very impressed with Rick's driving, the road is like the end of a corkscrew.
There is very little traffic and we feel as if we have this part of Tuscany all to ourselves. We stop often to take pictures and admire the views.
The traffic is busier when we get back on the autostrada. We stop at an Autogrille to pick up some munchies – a very civilized and well-stocked rest stop. The English do this well, too. We have nothing like it in Canada. From Arezzo to Montevarchi, the traffic is very slow, there is obviously an accident ahead and police cars are trying to get past us. They end up having to go up on the shoulder. But finally, we begin our climb to our cottage.
Feeling a bit homesick, not sure why, I call my sister Vanessa. It's so nice to talk to her. I miss her log cabin in the mountains, the large, sun-filled great room, Charlie the black lab, and the smells from all the amazing things she cooks. We have scrambled eggs and toast for dinner, not that exciting but we are still full from lunch. Drink champagne on the terrace afterwards. It's hard to describe how 'bountiful' I feel, as if I am abounding with smells, warmth, tears, tastes, moonlight and happiness. I never expected that from Italy. That makes it sweeter.
We sleep late the next morning. Rick is reading 'A Thousand Days in Venice' and we have a long discussion over our morning coffee on the terrace about marriage. I am constantly amazed that after 30 years of being with this man, we still have so much to talk about. Of course, travelling heightens our discussions and adds another layer to the depth of our shared memory.
Later on, Rick takes Livia for a walk and has an 'incident'. He is mailing some postcards from the local post office, which has a sign saying 'No Dogs Allowed' (a picture of a dog with an 'X' through it), so Rick tells Livia to 'stay' on the front step, which she dutifully does. What he doesn't know – Ally tells us this afterwards – are that the Italians are somewhat afraid of this breed of dog (I don't know why, she couldn't be more gentle). So no one will enter or exit the post office. Voices are raised, the postmistress gets involved, Rick is trying to get out to get Livia – once he understands that there is some problem with her being there – but there are too many people in his way. Finally, he rescues her and the business of the post office can continue. Once again, we have failed to remain inconspicuous. Both man and dog come home exhausted and have to rest for a while in the warm sun.
While the two of them snooze, I write in my journal and drink some of Bob's delicious red wine. Motown's Greatest Hits are playing on the CD, the birds are singing, the laundry is drying, the church bells ring every one in awhile – I feel myself trying to physically capture what I am experiencing so I can relive it, later on, when I am in need of sustenance for my soul.
Later on, we pack our suitcases so we will be ready to leave early tomorrow. We are going to detour to Pienza on our way to our cottage in Umbria.
It will be hard to leave this place, it really is an earthly Eden. We will miss Livia; as we pack she senses that something is going on and sits at the French door peering in at us. Rick goes out to pet her every once in awhile, I almost think he feels the need to explain to her why we are leaving.
Being in this cottage in Chianti has forced us to slow down and really begin to make sense of the rich experience Italy has to offer. I think that is what has been missing from many of our other holidays. We have rushed from place to place, from checklist to checklist, everything a muddled blur at the end, but with a sense of satisfaction that we have seen the 'must see' things. But being satisfied is so small compared to what we have felt on this trip. Somehow, Italy has expanded what our expectations are for a holiday, have touched emotions we never knew were withering, have made us re-evaluate what the purpose of travel is. It's as if our hearts are bigger because we have been here.
Next...Part VIII – A Fall in the Bathtub, Pouty in Pienza and Bats in the Awning
Feb 25th, 2007, 02:37 PM
#55
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Thanks everyone for your kind words.
jamikins, SRS, ssvw27, luvtotravel, SandyBrit, carolsc – I'll try to be quicker with my reports. We are in the process of finding a new home, so I am trying to fit writing in between house hunting. Your support does keep me sitting down at the computer, however. Thank you.
italybound2006 and carlyshells – Hope you both have a great holiday in Italy. Make sure to post your trip reports when you return.
carlyshells and LoveItaly – I haven't posted my pictures yet, that's my objective after the trip reports are finished. But thanks for asking about them. I've actually only looked at them a few times since we've returned, I took over 1000 pictures! And I still remember all the photo opportunities I missed.
caroltis – Wow, I'm blushing. Wouldn't it be fun to write a book on Italy – of course, I would have to go again – and again – and again. It means a lot to me that someone who has been to Italy so many times finds my words relevant. Thank you.
ComfyShoes – Feel free to use 'gelato-virgin' and 'Brunhilde'. And I'm glad my report helps bring back memories of Venice. Nine days there, wouldn't that be wonderful.
jamikins, SRS, ssvw27, luvtotravel, SandyBrit, carolsc – I'll try to be quicker with my reports. We are in the process of finding a new home, so I am trying to fit writing in between house hunting. Your support does keep me sitting down at the computer, however. Thank you.
italybound2006 and carlyshells – Hope you both have a great holiday in Italy. Make sure to post your trip reports when you return.
carlyshells and LoveItaly – I haven't posted my pictures yet, that's my objective after the trip reports are finished. But thanks for asking about them. I've actually only looked at them a few times since we've returned, I took over 1000 pictures! And I still remember all the photo opportunities I missed.
caroltis – Wow, I'm blushing. Wouldn't it be fun to write a book on Italy – of course, I would have to go again – and again – and again. It means a lot to me that someone who has been to Italy so many times finds my words relevant. Thank you.
ComfyShoes – Feel free to use 'gelato-virgin' and 'Brunhilde'. And I'm glad my report helps bring back memories of Venice. Nine days there, wouldn't that be wonderful.
Feb 25th, 2007, 04:05 PM
#56
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You should not blush at the idea of writing a book. Your writing makes excellent reading. There could be worse things than needing to go back to Italy for more "research," and getting to write off the trip in the process. Yes, this is good enough to publish.
