Why we liked it!

The LB and I had a wonderful time on our recent trip to northern Italy. It gave us a much needed escape from our normal lives, and allowed us to visit and experience a new part of the world. We saw artworks, cities and cathedrals previously only seen in books, movies or on television. History came alive as we walked through the narrow streets and alleys of the Veneto and Tuscany. But it was people, and the personal connections we made with them, who made our trip truly come to life.
In Venice, “our” gondolier took us on a trip through the canals, pointed out the sights and spoke of the historic people who made Venice what it is today. After our ride, it seemed we bumped into him several times each day. We would be sitting at our neighborhood canal-side café sipping espressos; he would row past with a load of tourists, and give the LB a hearty wave and big grin with nary a pause in his spiel. Walking to dinner across one of the endless bridges, we would hear a “buona sera” and he would go gliding under the bridge on his way to giving more tourists an experience of a lifetime.
American tourists are not common in the little hilltop town of Chiusdino, and most of the inhabitants viewed us as if we had green skin and had just climbed out of a spaceship. Carla went out of her way to make us feel welcome and encouraged us in our attempts to speak Italian. She ran the local fruit, vegetable and wine shop, so mostly we only needed to point to indicate what we wanted. We were able to communicate enough during our daily visits to learn she had studied English in school many years before, but hadn’t used it since. The day before we left, we had to go in just to say goodbye and let her know how much we appreciated getting to know her. All of this with her not speaking any English and us with no Italian.
When we first arrived in Florence, we felt we had arrived in a big city and might have trouble meeting people. The first time we went to catch the city bus to the historic town center, we realized that would not be an issue. We were standing at the stop, and a little old Italian lady walked up and launched into a monologue. She had talked for several minutes, when she finally noticed the blank looks and asked, “Capisca?” After we replied with shakes of our heads, she started up again. Apparently, she didn’t really care if we understood her, she just wanted to talk. By the time our bus came, we knew she was a widow and her husband had been dead for many years, she had been a teacher and had been forced to retire after thirty years because she hit the mandatory retirement age, and she really missed her home in Naples, but was living in Florence because of her son. Apparently, there was enough crossover between my college Spanish and her Italian for me to catch the general drift, but not enough to be able to converse. She blushed a bit when I asked if I could take her photo, but acted pleased.
This is what made our trip special, these and others we met and got to know, if only for a few minutes. They turned what could have been a sterile romp from one museum to the next into a human experience.

Tuscany

After taking the train from Venice to Florence, we picked up a rental car and took off on our own. Once away from the chaos of Florence, driving the small back roads of Tuscany was a totally wonderful experience. The roads were mostly deserted, and as long as I stayed 10 or 15 kph over the posted speed limit, I didn’t hold up the local traffic too much. As we moved into the area southwest of Siena known as the Val d’Merse, or the Merse river valley, the hills got larger and the roads began to twist and turn more vigorously. No problem, at least until some of the locals became impatient with my progress, and started sitting on my bumper. Our little car, a new Ford Focus with a turbo-diesel, was up to the challenge of the tight corners and very short straights heading up the mountain, but I was the obvious limiting factor in this game. The tailgaters finally swept past us on a blind uphill turn, and were gone from sight in seconds. Benvenuto a Italia!!
Without further excitement we arrived in the small hilltop town of Chiusdino where we were to stay for this week. Studying the map and directions sent by the rental agent, got us headed down a one lane track more appropriate for a tractor or four-wheel drive truck. At the bottom of this path, we found an old German who managed to convince us we were beyond lost. Backtracking to Chiusdino, we spotted another little road which might fit the description given in the directions. We tried to translate the written directions into actions, and ended at another dead end, this populated by an ancient Italian woman, 2 geese and a dog of indeterminate ancestry. With much waving of her walking stick and gesturing, she managed to convey to us that, no we weren’t in the right place, but just needed to return to the last intersection and keep going despite what the directions said. Another ten minutes of maneuvering along gravel paths brought us to our home for the next week, Casa Emilia. The rental agent was at the house, and gave us a quick introduction to the place. One reason for the brevity was her complete lack of English and our lack of either Italian or German. Oh well, that’s why we have phrase books, right?
With a German rental agent, the house was spotless, including the kitchen, whose shelves were completely bare of any foodstuffs. We packed up and headed back to the town above, to find a restaurant for a bite to eat and then off to the COOP, which is the HEB of Italy. We finally located the restaurant, which was closed at the time, so we headed into the COOP. It turned out to not be nearly as large as the one we had been frequenting in Venice, more like a gas station mini-mart. We picked up a few things, headed next door to the meat market and then down the street to the fresh fruit and wine shops. Of course, between each of these shopping opportunities, it was necessary to return to the parked car and unload. Our reward was some delicious steak au poivre, fried potatoes with green beans, sliced tomatoes with asiago cheese, and a fresh baked baguette, accompanied by a very nice Maglianello Chianti Reserva. This was our first real meal outside a restaurant since we left Texas.