A magical week in Tuscany

Monday, 6/24

Today was a day of learning. This morning we met Carlotta at San Gregorio Farm.  From the barn, I heard and energetic Luciano calling out to my husband, “Buongiorno Gregorio!” as he stepped into his overalls to do some sort of “lavoro”(work).

We walked into Pienza for a brief history of the city and its surrounding areas. Carlotta talked of the formation of the valley from the rough crete (clay like soil) to the plowed fields and molded hills we see today.  It looks so natural it is hard to believe that the land was so shaped and manicured by man. Past the little church and down a hill at the side of town we toured the Romatorio. This property is owned by Carlo but it is an ancient site, so he can only maintain it. It is the remains of a hermitage, where monks would choose to live in solitude and pray, carved into the rocks are tombs and religious sculptures.  On the way back into town we got to hike through a lovely field with herbs growing wild and butterflies galore. We ate lunch at the La Buca di Enea in Pienza. Joyce had a big salad and they aren’t kidding when they say big, it had an entire 8 oz. ball of mozzarella on top of it! I had ravioli and Greg the mushroom tagliatelli.  Limoncello followed, gratis, as we were friends of Isabella.   

Another learning experience was our tour of the Fattoria del Colle winery.  Here we got to learn the history of this winery operated solely by women, a rarity in patriarchal Italy. We sampled the Brunello, one of the most famous wines in this region, a very bold and hearty wine.  Greg and I had visited this winery two years ago and were glad to see that Bonella, our sommelier, was still employed at the winery.  She was really impressed that Greg remembered talking to her about her love of the band, the Foo Fighters and showed us a tattoo on her ankle with the emblem of the band.  Aside from being an all-women run winery, they seem to employ bright young women who are both dynamic and hip. 

Our final lesson for the day was back at Cretaiole with Carlo.  Carlo is a professional oil taster from the province of Siena.  With Carlotta translating, Carlo explained the defects an oil can have, how to buy the best oil, how to read labels on olive oil and how to hone your personal taste in oil. We found that Ligurian oil, by the sea side, is milder while oil from this region tastes of fresh cut grass with bright spicy notes.  From the comfort and safety of the common room, whose benches and tables are surrounded by glass windows, we had watched the clouds roll in during our lesson, the weather was taking a very sudden turn for the worse.    Still a bit sore from running 5 kilometers up and down hills yesterday and with a storm brewing on the horizon.  I decide to just jog up to the next farmhouse over, about  a mile, I estimated.  Both mom and Greg warned me that it could pour at any moment and I shouldn’t go too far.  Indeed the charcoal grey clouds that gathered in the distance did seem ominous but there were some patches of blue still poking through in the east.  As I topped the hill, I was greeted by an immense and beautiful rainbow, a delightful site.  But as I approached the farm house, I saw the largest most distinct lightning strike I’ve ever seen.  I froze in my footsteps for a moment but ventured a bit closer to my destination.  A few seconds later and ear splitting clap of thunder forced me to turn tail and run home at a quicker pace. I even cut through the olive grove to get back faster.  Still the rain didn’t fall, but I found Greg and mom huddled together in the common room anxiously awaiting my return.  Luciano joined us and we talked about the weather (I learned the word for lightening is “fulmini”) and he gave us some eggs he had brought from his farm.  Our Italian was particularly slow and labored during our afternoon chat, so he pulled up a bench and said with a sigh (in Italian, of course), “I’m going to sit down while you think!”  He has a good sense of humor and is very patient with our language barrier.  We were still full from our lunch so a light dinner followed.  We sliced the apricots from our fruit basket and stuffed them with some of Luciano’s pecorino cheese.  Sprinkled the fruit with pepper, olive oil and red wine vinegar and a light sprinkling of fresh thyme.  The perfect appetizer I think, though I know the Italians would disagree, as we are learning fruit is only for dessert! 

Tonight, all the guests gathered in the common room around 10:00 pm awaiting the arrival of Luciano.  Greg was excited to find another guitarist among the guests so they could trade off with the musical entertainment, each sharing their favorite songs and expanding their repertoire in the process.  Luciano arrived with vino bianchi, vin santo, and grappa, as well as a giant plum crostata made by his wife Lilliana. We enjoyed the music, many guests sang along, Luciano and I had another dance and we retired back to our rooms around 1:00 in the morning.

Tuesday, 6/25

We slept late after the festa from last night.  The weather had cleared, though white billowy clouds were still strewn through the blue skies, rain no longer threatened.  I urged my travel companions to visit the hot springs with me today.  I have been fighting a cold since we began our trip last week and though I am mostly better, I am still prone to coughing fits at night.  I’ve read that the hot springs at Bagno Fillipi are supposed to help cure respiratory illness, skin problems, and basically whatever ails you.  After another beautiful drive through tiny towns and viewing the cypress lined lanes that lead to the villas, we were parking near a forested area.  A short hike down the hill landed us at the milky and sulfury waters of Bagno Fillipi, also known as Fasso Biancho or the White Whale due to the lime stone deposits dripping over the hill side in a hump-backed fashion.  We slipped off our street clothes and, clad in our bathing suits, we waded into the bubbling mineral waters.  Though occasionally stinky, the water did seem to have curative effects.  As we emerged, our skin was smooth and we felt relaxed.  Back on the farm, we showered to wash away the rotten egg smell and after cooking up some rottelli in a tomato basil sauce, another nap was in order. 

In the afternoon, we had a culture class with Carlotta where she talked a bit about the hand gestures that accompany Italian conversation and the order of dining courses in Italian culture, but mostly expressed her personal opinions about being Italian.  This was very interesting. We really appreciated her candor and individuality.  We felt like we got an inside view on politics from a passionate and intelligent woman.

I got Greg and Joyce to go along with me on my run today.  Okay, well they walked together along the path to the abandoned farm house, as I ran to the duck pond, but we all had a nice bit of exercise.  We have been doing so well with our food budget here because it seems we are still full from Rome and we still have many groceries in our kitchen and veggies from the garden.  Tonight we enjoyed some marinated summer squash in a sauce of olive oil and balsamic vinegar with shaved pecorino and bread crumbs with fresh basil.  Tomorrow Joyce and I have early morning plans, but Greg may sleep in.

Wednesday, 6/26

Today mom and I met our guide at 6:30 am. Yup, that’s right we signed up for the sunrise hike. One of the reasons for the hike being early is that they like to beat the heat, but it has been very mild weather and even cloudy at times, but none the less we started with the sun.  This is the perfect time to hear the sounds of the farm awakening, with the multitude of chirping and tweeting birds, the crowing of the rooster, and the occasional dog bark.  We found porcupine quills and beautiful vistas on our nearly 5 mile hike. I think some of the uphill stints may have been more than mom had bargained for.  Our seventy-something guide categorized the hike as easy, and though he’s had a hip replacement and is a cancer survivor, he kept a swift pace.  When we returned to the farm house around 9:30, we had breakfast and I took today’s first nap. 

We cruised into the hills for our light lunch and a cheese tasting. We had a charming farmer with Sardinian roots as our guide.  He gave us a comical but educational tour of the cheese making equipment and of course the highlight was our tasting.  For our “light lunch” there was bread, salad, salami and prosciutto, eight kinds of cheese (and three types of ricotta, which we learned is not a cheese at all as it is made from the whey).  We especially enjoyed the cheeses that were aged in hay and saffron.  

Upon or return, another nap was in order and I dreamt about being served slippery fish which were sliding all over and off of the dinner table, as we would be attending a special fish dinner in Pienza.  The owner of the ristorante visits the fishmonger on Wednesday morning and purchases fish based on how many reservations she has.  It was pouring rain as we headed into Pienza, so Greg dropped us off at the edge of town as he went to park.  Joyce and I wandered the streets of the historic center looking for ristorante Dal Falco with our jackets over our heads in a downpour.  Before we knew it Greg had joined us and we were no closer to finding the restaurant.  When we finally found it we were soaked and it was just on the opposite side of the street from where he had let us off.  Feeling foolish and wet, we tromped into the fine establishment leaving puddles as we went but were relieved when we saw our fellow Cretaioleans, a friendly family from North Carolina, at the reserved table.  They assured us though we were wet, we were among friends.  Soon wine warmed our bellies and conversation flowed.  We were delighted as the appetizers appeared.  We had about seven small offerings on our plates, a hot scallop in the shell with buttery bread crumbs, a saucy salad of crab, potato salad with octopus, crostini with peas and squid (to be honest I can’t remember all the creative antipasto that was plated before us)... On to the pasta, prima piata, first course.   We had spaghetti with clams and mussels and an amazing crab risotto.  Then the secondi, shrimp and calamri fritto (fried) and a broiled white fish with beautifully sautéed potato slices.  A light lemon sorbet ended our meal and by the time we had our café the rain let up so that we could walk back to our car and drive back to the farm house in peace.  A knock on the door told Greg that Luciano would be waiting in the common room.  Grappa is always a good way to help digest a rich meal of so many courses, and though Joyce and I opted to crawl into warm and dry pajamas, Greg joined a small group of ‘the guys’ for sip of this spirit and some quiet conversation before bed time.

Thursday, 6/27

We slept in late, as we had no activities scheduled for the morning.  We decided to drive to the nearby town of Montepulciano for an impromptu wine tasting and to do some window shopping.  We enjoyed picking out trinkets in the quaint shops of this hill town and tried their famous vino nobile at an enoteca.  The views of the surrounding valley from this hill town were breathtaking.  After grabbing a few panini to go, we were on our way back to Cretaiole to prepare for the Pici dinner.  I decided to bring a salad prepared from ingredients in Luciano’s vegetable patch to donate to the pasta dinner.  On my way out to the vegetable patch, I got sidetracked when Jenna, a preteen guest heralding from North Carolina, chirped that she was going to grab some water for one of the farmyard cats.  Mama cat was in the process of delivering kittens!  I’ve seen my fair share of biology videos, but I had never seen a live birth of any type.  I set down my vegetable picking basket and spotted  mama cat, who we had affectionately been calling “Preggo” all week. She was hunkered down in a raised flower planter in the blaring sun, panting and contracting her little kitty tummy.  One tiny kitten was already trying to nurse and another was on the way.  In fact, we watched mama kitty deliver a total of four kittens!  Jenna stood blocking the sun for mama, so she wouldn’t be to hot and other young girls gathered with their mothers and fathers to watch the event. When the girls were concerned as one of the kitties seemed to be slipping behind the planter, Greg came to the rescue, scooping up the slimy creature and placing her on mama’s belly.  Those of you who know about Greg’s dislike for messes might be surprised, but Greg got the nickname, Dr. Greg for the rest of the day.  

Amidst all this excitement, preparations for the Pici dinner were taking place.  Pici, pronounced like peachy, is a type of pasta that is traditional in this area, it is like a chubby version of spaghetti.  Isabella returned to the farm today,  just in time to teach us how to make this traditional dish, along with the help of Carlotta.  First the dough was mixed, simply water, flour, and eggs, with just a touch of olive oil.  The dough has to be massaged and shaped into a ball.  Then the pasta strands get rolled out by hand.  The process takes many hands and lots of patience from our teachers.  When the pasta is finished, Isabella takes it away to boil it.  The dinner begins with ample wine and Carlo passing around crostini grilled over a wood fire and rubbed with garlic and olive oil.  Our homemade pasta is the first course, with a ragu for meat eaters and pesto for the vegetarians.  Next the salads come out, Luciano can’t stand to see anyone eating pasta with their salad, this is not the traditional Tuscan order, so the pasta plates are cleared before the bean salad, green salads and more circulate around the long tables.  Then comes the pork ribs, steaks and sausages Carlo has cooked over the wood fire.  The table is cleared yet again, then Luciano circulates with the pecorino and fruit and dessert is brought out.  Finally after dinner drinks such as Vin Santo and Grappa make the rounds.  Greg takes this as his cue to grab the guitar from the corner and again the evening ends with singing and celebration.

Friday, 6/28

Our last full day at Cretaiole, we slept in a bit but did go into Pienza in the morning to shop and visit the Maria church.  Beautiful gold leaf and hand carved confessionals adorn the interior.  It’s vast open space and stone arches create amazing acoustics and Greg hums out a few notes to show off the non-visual qualities of the architecture.  Our lunch plans for the day consisted of visiting and organic farm for a vegetarian lunch.  As we drove the back roads to Podere Il Casale we found storm clouds gathering again.  When we arrived on the farm our car was chased by two very friendly, small and nimble donkeys.  We also saw peacocks, cats, pigs, sheep, dogs, chickens, and goats. As we approached the main house we saw Sandra, who we remember from our visit two years ago, rushing into the house with table cloths and place settings. “We will be moving lunch inside,” she announced and not a moment too soon, the sky erupted with thunder and lightning.  Just as we ducked into the dining area, a torrent of rain began to fall.  Safely warm and dry inside we enjoyed watching the hail and rain bathe the farm as a parade of delicious food was brought out to us.  A green salad, tomatoes with feta, ricotta  (made that morning), goat cheese with peppercorns, asparagus in a cream sauce, spelt salad and bread, steamed chard and potatoes, sautéed onion and cabbage, a frittata, and of course fresh pasta in a spicy tomato sauce with capers.  We were in vegetable lovers heaven!  Then came the cheese course, four types of cheese made from the raw milk of the animals at the farm; a fresh sheep’s cheese, a semi aged, a drunken cheese (aged in fermented grapes), and a semi-aged goat cheese, all served with a chestnut honey.  Finally, a piece of chestnut cake and espresso.  As we finished our plates, the sky dried up and we made it back to our car dry and happy.  

On our way back to the farm we followed the signs to the cimitario.  Luciano had teased that if we ever came back for another vacation and he wasn’t there, we could visit him in the cemetery.  Not funny, Luciano!  But it did get us curious about what the cemetery just outside of Pienza was like.  It truly is a beautiful place, through stone archways the plots are planted with flowering plants of all types and smiling pictures of the inhabitants grace each headstone. The mausoleums have rolling library ladders attached so that guests can climb the steps to their loved one’s niche and deposit fresh flowers regularly.  It seemed a charming spot to spend eternity.  Back on the farm, I convinced Greg to join me on my final jog.  We went 3 km past the empty villa to the currently vacant duck pond.  We did flush out two pheasants from the tall fox tails during our run, which pleased me as it seemed to symbolize that I was side by side with my mate, just like the pheasants who we frightened into flight.  We arranged to meet with Carlo and pay our bill, so we could depart early in the morning.  As with any encounter with the Moricianni family it was a pleasant exchange during which Greg got a lesson on counting in Italian and we discussed upcoming birthdays.  Greg will turn 37 in a few days and Carlo is turning 46 this year. 

Our dinner consisted of marinated eggplant from the garden and the rest of our pantry pasta tossed in truffle oil with some ricotta cheese we purchased during our cheese tasting the other day.  We’ve eaten almost all the generous groceries that stocked our apartment with the exception of some breakfast items that we’ll finish off in the morning and some cookies and apples.  I decided to make our leftovers into a dolce we could share with our friends at our last evening festa.  I peeled and cooked the apples with a little sugar, honey, and cinnamon and placed this apple pie filling in a bowl surrounded with cookies and a dollup of ricotta.  I call it no-bake Italian style apple pie.   Luciano also brought a peach focaccia that Lilliana had baked.  The deserts worked well together and both were enjoyed during our final night of music with friends.  It was an early night though, as everyone had to prepare to move on to our next destinations in the morning.  

Saturday, 6/22

Early to rise this morning, as we had to pack, grab one last cappuccino, and hop on the Metro to the train station.  Heavy backpacks strapped on, we made it to the train station with plenty of time to spare.  It took some figuring out which platform our train would be arriving on, but we managed to get Joyce on her first European train and were on our way to Florence by 9:00 am.  On the ride, Greg overheard a tour guide making reservations to see the David.  Oops, we had not even considered needing a reservation for a museum! I guess we should have reviewed our Rick Steves’ section on Florence more carefully. Greg, being the resourceful and friendly fellow he is, engaged the woman in a chat and within moments she was back on the phone to her connection offering to get us a reservation as well.  As we departed the train, she gave us a number on a slip of paper, a reservation to get in the Accademia at 2:30. Another kind surprise from a stranger on our travels!  We stashed our luggage at the baggage room in the train station before heading out into the streets of Florence. Initially we hoped to get lunch at a stand in the Mercato Centrale as soon as we arrived, but Greg was concerned since we needed to pick up our rental car and he had heard sometimes they close at odd hours.  Thank goodness we went there first, as they close by lunch time on Saturday and are not open on Sunday, we could have been stuck in Florence for two nights.  While Florence is a city full of history, art, and culture; our hearts were set on the countryside and our big city experience in Rome had pleased but exhausted us all.  A few hours in Florence to see the big sites is all that we needed.  We checked out the Mercato Centrale, a big indoor produce, fish, and meat market in a warehouse.  I found it fascinating to see but the strong smells drove us back to the city streets quickly. We grabbed a cheap and uninspiring lunch at a touristy trattoria.  Just some salad and bruschetta, enough to fuel us for our museum tour. (Viewing food as fuel, is very un-Italian but as a tourist sometimes it is necessary!)    

We got some mixed directions about how to get to the Accademia but ended up in the right line just at 2:30. After waiting only about five minutes to go inside, we felt amazed that the number written on the little scrap of paper was actually sufficient to get us inside. Of course we still had to pay the admission, but what a delight to skip waiting in line for hours!  I am much more adept at describing food than art but I will say that David’s figure was impressive!  We felt rather voyeuristic surveying his naked form, but after all this was the main reason for our side trip to Florence. Pondering the detail, the scale, the skill and the effort involved in sculpting such a piece, the patrons were in awe. Joyce described David as a hunk.  We took our time to see the other sculptures and paintings in the museum, getting the full experience for our ticket price but still this only took about thirty minutes.  On the walk back to the car we saw the cathedral and a few other churches. We grabbed our bags from the station and headed for the rental car. Greg faced a rather tricky drive out of Florence (the signs can be very confusing, even with GPS attempting to guide you).  With written directions on the computer and the GPS giving us contrasting directions, we also found it easy to get turned around in the small towns on the road to Pienza, but we made it! 

All of our wrong turns and travel woes were erased when we turned off the highway toward Cretaiole.  When we pulled into the drive at Cretaiole we were excited to meet Carlotta who generously showed us to our rooms. (Carlotta is taking the place of our hostess Isabella this week.  Poor Isabella is in Milan as her father has passed away, so her friend Carlotta is hosting us in her stead). Carlotta gave us a quick tour, knowing we have been here before and left us to explore our digs  Greg and I have a spacious bedroom and bathroom that attach to a living area with a full kitchen which is also connected to Joyce’s comfortable room and bath. The Tuscan farm house décor is evident in every detail from the rustic wooden doors with an iron latch,  to the antique furniture. The generosity and hospitality of the Moricciani family is evident at our first glance around the room.  There is a full bowl of fresh fruit; peaches, apricots, bananas, apples, and cherries. On our table a bottle of the owner’s house wine and olive oil for our use.  The fridge was full of milk, yogurt, juice, and sparkling water.  There was also a basket of pasta, cereal, cookies, and snacks.  We will need to eat many breakfasts, lunches and dinners in our room to work through all of this generously provided food, which will be great for our budget and a nice break from the rich food we’ve been consuming.  But that is not all, more treasures were stashed around the house. A chocolate and a mint sat on each of our pillows to wish us sweet dreams.  A flower floated coyly in our toilet bowl to greet us as well. We felt immediately nurtured and at home.  Outside of the farm house are the most beautiful views I have ever seen and I don’t say that lightly, I have had the opportunity to visit many beautiful places.  We are on top of a hill looking down on a valley of rolling green hills and sprawling golden fields.  A vineyard and olive grove stretch away from us on the west side of the lawn, while forest like brush sweep up the hill on all other sides.  For me it was a joy to be in a familiar spot where I felt safe and comfortable enough to run again.  Over the last two years running has become an important part of my health and stress management.  I began to run a few years back when I had a particularly challenging student.  I would come home frustrated and vent to Greg about the way this child had tested me and one day in particular Greg suggested wisely that maybe going on a little run around the block might help me blow off so steam.  He had no idea what he was starting!  (He rarely does...)  That year, I started by taking a lap, perhaps running around the track a few times at the School of Theology in neighborhood behind our home just once or twice a week.  Currently, I run four to five days per week, about two to three miles each time I run.  No more than ten miles a week in total.  It is not much, but I’m hooked.  I feel really wonderful, calm, and healthy after a run.  So I had really missed jogging while in Rome.  Not only was it delightful to stretch my legs, but I had this amazingly beautiful view to contemplate. After 3 km, I had seen an abandoned farm house, a pheasant, and a duck pond and was ready for dinner. We made a large salad from the garden patch to pair with our pasta and sauce and enjoyed our first meal on the farm. I forgot to mention that when we arrived, Luciano, the patriarch of the family had been there with Carlotta. When Greg and I visited two years ago, he had been one of our favorite parts of Cretaiole.  It took him a minute, but Luciano remembered us and it was like old times.  Luciano speaks only Italian, so it gives us some practice to speak with him.  After dinner, it is tradition to meet with him and the other guests in the common room.  He brings out his grappa (a strong spirit distilled from grape parts left over from the wine making process) and shares an after dinner drink with the guests and helps us to practice our Italian.  Tonight Greg played some guitar for the guests and Luciano explained to me that he likes to dance but because he is an old man, we have to invite him. (At least that is what I think he said, my Italian is still warming up.)  I asked him to dance and no sooner had we finished the first turn, he told me he would like to dance with my mother also.  So Joyce had her turn as well.  Dancing and music, not bad nightlife for living on a farm!

Sunday, 6/23

Today, all of the guests were invited to visit Luciano’s home. While the family owns Cretaiole, the Agriturismo where we are staying, they live on a working farm at the edge of Pienza called San Gregorio (Yes, Greg loves that this farm shares his name).  On our tour of the farm, we got to see where the geese and chickens live.  Luciano was proud to bring out some ducklings for the young people on our tour to play with and he was excited to show them the egg from which they had hatched just a few days ago. The pigs squealed, the turkeys gobbled, as we enjoyed the vista from the edge of the barnyard.  The Moricciani family farm produces aged pecorino cheeses, salami, prosciutto, amazing olive oil, and of course a few varieties of wine.  We were treated to a tasting of their olio on fresh country bread.  Luciano sliced up his prosciutto and salami for guests to sample and the fragrant sheep’s cheese was served up with plenty of red and white wine to sample.  We certainly didn’t need to plan a lunch after this lovely taste test. We bought some farm products to add to the groceries in our room. After a brief siesta,  we drove to the nearby town of San Quirico d’Orcia.  The historic center of this town is a medieval walled city.  We walked the quiet cobbled streets and enjoyed watching the locals socializing during their pre-dinner walk.  A quaint hedge garden framed a statue of someone important to the city but we couldn’t understand the plaque as it was in Italian! 

After exploring the neighboring town it was time to head back to the farm house.  

When it came time for my evening run,  I wanted to venture a little further down the dirt road today.  I set my iPod for 5 km. Up the hill, I passed the abandoned neighboring farmhouse. Down the hill, there was the little duck pond full of croaking frogs and splashing fowl.  Another steep drop off was just ahead, it looked amazingly fun to run down it but knowing I would be struggling back up the hill a few minutes later made the decision to plow ahead a tough one.  I plunged down the hill with the wind at my back delighted by more vistas of rolling hills and golden plains as the grade leveled off.  I rounded the corner into more dense vegetation and a little forest grew up around me as I pushed on.  I hadn’t even seen this from the path above.  Around another corner in the darkening trees, I saw movement on the path, too small to be a deer, I struggled to name the animal before it plunged into the bushes and darted away from me.  “Volpe!” I called out.  How the name came to me in Italian before it did in English astounded me, but it took me another moment to process that I had seen a fox!  The forest opened up into another vista and it was time to turn back and face that hill, but the visit from signore Volpe made it all worth-while.  Back at the farm house, we cut tender zucchini from the garden into long slices and tossed them in with the thin pecorino tagliatelli we had purchased at the farm.  Dressing our veggies and pasta with just a hint of truffle oil and a sprinkle of basil from the trough in the courtyard, we had another simple and fresh Tuscan meal.  Sunday night must be family night, as Luciano did not visit for grappa tonight, but he said he would see us on Monday and we are sure he won’t disappoint.

Friday, 6/21

(Nota Bene: We've had limited internet connectivity and bandwidth to work with, so I'm trying to post more of these entries with text only.  Will try to get more photos up as soon as possible, but for now please use Mel's descriptive writing to paint the pictures for you.  Salute! -GJ-)

We all managed to rise early and grab a cappuccino and pastry on our way to the Coliseum.  We were there with our Roma Passes in hand when they opened at 8:30.  This ancient structure is truly amazing.  The amount of culture and history it contains is staggering, the architecture is dumbfounding. One basically staggers around this monument in awe, taking photos and attempting to grasp the age, events, and relevance of this historical site.  This time we saw a black Coliseum cat hunting starlings in one of the archways.  Moments like that where we witness nature, acting as it always has, I think of how little has changed.  Seeing all the tourists streaming through with their headsets listening to a narrated tour, reminds me of how much has changed.  After the Coliseum, we hopped on the Metro to visit the Borghese Gardens.  It was a lovely day for a stroll in the park. The weather was just slightly cooler today, a break from the sweltering 32 degree c. (90 f.) weather, a slight breeze blew this morning as we toured the duck pond, contemplated statues, and walked until our feet were sore.  Back on the Metro, we stopped off for a final helping of our beloved potato rosemary pizza and a slice with tomato, burrata, and arugula as well.  After a short nap back at the flat, we decide to walk back to the Pantheon during visiting hours. It was well worth it to see both the outside and the inside of this structure in daylight, yet another monument where we could have stood and stared at one intricate painting, or the deliciously marbled floor for hours.  The hole in the ceiling which let natural light in from above is such a unique feature and a drain area in the center of the floor below answered our unasked question of what happens when it rains.  It was getting hot, so we grabbed a lemon granite (like the Italian version of shaved ice or an Icee) for the walk back.

Dinner was to be at La Taverna dei Fori Imperiali, just a few blocks from our apartment.  We had made a reservation a few days ago, as when we walked passed and were impressed by the menu.  Joyce popped her head in and spoke to the owner who gladly took her name, repeating it as we left to commit it to memory. We enjoyed watching the owner during our dining experience. He was a white haired fellow, difficult to say what his age might be, but his experience was substantial. (We heard him mention to a patron that his great-grandfather had owned the ristorante and it had been in his family for over 100 years). He surveyed the kitchen and his guests with a proud smile, bringing out plates of prepared food when the other servers were attending to their tables.  The seasonal menu is updated weekly and hand-written on a piece of paper and presented to guests with the regular menu.  We ordered exclusively from the menu we had seen the owner working on with his chef when we popped in a few days ago. We shared an eggplant parmesan  for our starter.  Greg had the cacio e pepe with truffle shavings.  The flavor reminded him of a pesto sauce, though it was not technically pesto.  I had a special carbonara with fava beans, peas, and artichokes.  Joyce ordered pasta with a half lobster in the shell accompanied by tiny shrimps in a tomato sauce.  We enjoyed indescribable flavors, we wanted to keep eating even though we were full because our mouths wanted to keep figuring out those flavors.  In the end, Greg convinced us to share the chocolate soufflé for dolce. So full, but happy, we enjoyed one last stroll through our charming neighborhood. Back in our rooms, I feel a carb-induced coma coming on, buona notte!

Wednesday, 6/19

Roma!

Before our reward of pizza and beer, we had to contend with the bustling crowd dismounting the plane.  Joyce was used to deplaning in a terminal and was surprised to have to haul her flight-weary butt and two bags down steep steps from the plane directly onto the tarmac. All loaded down with our carry-on luggage, we herded her onto a shuttle where we were truly packed in like cattle, standing backpack to backpack with one another and wedged against our fellow passengers hurtling toward the airport terminals.  As she struggled to keep her balance on the bumpy tram ride, mom remarked exhausted but full of good humor, “I know now why you invited me on this trip... you’re trying to kill me!”  We had a good laugh but our work was not done.  We had to walk swiftly through the airport, toting our bags all the way to get our passports stamped and to meet Francesco, who would be our driver through the wild Roman Streets and deliver us to our apartment. 

Francesco’s wild ride down the two lane highway revealed the first of the Roman landscape to Joyce.  She gazed through travel weary eyes at cylinders of hay in the fields and the towering apartment buildings with laundry flying like flags from their balconies.  The outer city soon gave way to ancient structures and cobbled streets.  As we rounded one corner, I was able to point behind us at the Coliseum in the distance. Once in our neighborhood, Francesco had to take us around the block twice and ask a local for directions, but we found a green wooden door on a quiet lane that led to our third floor apartment. Upstairs, Felipi was waiting to check us in.  The air conditioning in our white walled flat was stirring the billowy curtains creating a beautiful oasis from our travel. Our apartment has an elegant living area with white couches and ottomans (a must for tired feet).  Joyce has her own bedroom and bathroom, small and simple but comfortable and private. Greg and I have a similar bedroom with attached bathroom and we share a tiny dining room table and a kitchen cubicle with just enough space to stow some yogurt for breakfast in the little fridge and scare up some plates and cups for a take away lunch. Speaking of lunch, after a twelve hour flight filled with subpar airplane fare, we were in need of some real food. Luckily our favorite Roman pizza spot was just around the corner.  Joyce got the experience of gesturing for her desired slice and enjoyed a much needed diet coke while Greg and I were refreshed by two very large bottles of Peroni beer.  Our first pizza did not disappoint. Greg and Joyce shared a veggie medley of tomatoes, zucchini, potato and rosemary with cheese. I devoured my slice of fresh mozzarella and ripe cherry tomatoes with fragrant basil. We popped into the corner market to buys some staples for our apartment and stumbled across Greg’s favorite gelato stand. It was time to indoctrinate Joyce into the tradition of post meal gelato. Her first cup was a rich hazelnut and pistachio. Greg and I opted for the refreshing lemon and lime and mango and pineapple, respectively.  Now with food in our bellies and very little sleep, a nap was in order. We napped until it felt like dinner time, showered, and in clean clothes, feeling fresh and renewed we perused our neighborhood for dinner options.  We landed at a restaurant Greg and I had visited on our last trip, as we were surprised that many of the places we tried to pop into required a reservation. La Travenella was booked as well, but the server looked at one of the reserved tables for three whose original owners had still not arrived to claim it, bit his knuckle and hid the reserved sign behind his back, beaconing us in.  We were so glad we landed at this little restaurant, aside from having a friendly good humored staff, the food was outstanding. I am so glad this was Joyce’s first dinner in Rome. She ordered a tender ravioli stuffed with a delicate blend of spinach and ricotta and drenched in buttery olive oil with fried sage. She shared a bite, it was superb.  I had the creamy tagliatelli in lemon sauce, rich but zesty deliciousness coated every fresh strand of pasta.  Greg had the pasta alla carbonara, a delicate spaghetti coated with egg, cheese, and bacon.  After sharing our pasta and a bottle of wine, we were ready for a little sightseeing. But after the chef insisted we split two deserts, a caramel custard and tiramisu, it was imperative that we move to burn off some of those delicious calories.  We walked our full tummies to the Trevi Fountain, a magical moonlit scene full of romance and wishes and the hundreds of people making them. The Pantheon was next on our list, though it is closed at night the sight of that magnificent building and its charming piazza in the glow of the street lights were a delight to behold.  Trying to follow the charming little lanes home, we temporarily misplaced ourselves and ended up on the banks of Tevere, the opposite direction of our apartment. So we wandered through a tangle of lanes and ended up in Piazza Navona, a long rectangular piazza flanked by high-walled museums on both sides with three fountains in between. The walk was more than we had bargained for at that late hour and when we finally got home it was after midnight and we were tired.  They say Rome wasn’t built in a day, but still we managed to visit some major sights in one night.

Thursday, 6/20

We slept rather late the next morning, when we asked J what she wanted to do today, she replied, “What, there’s more? I thought we saw it all last night!”  We took her to our neighborhood café and had cappuccino and pastry for breakfast.  Then we had some important business to attend to, we needed to get our Roma Passes, so we could ride the Metro and get into our sights for a reasonable fee.  After getting our passes, it was time for Joyce’s first ride on the Metro.  I teased her as the train on the opposite tracks approached and an expansive twenty-foot gap was left between us and the train on the other side of the platform, “So now we are going to jump across to board the train.”  She smiled, luckily she knew it was a joke, and we waited for the other train to arrive at our platform.  We took the Metro to Termini station where we needed to get our Eurail passes activated by a station attendant.  We leave for Florence on Saturday and we didn’t want to wait until our early morning train ride to get the pass activated.  It is a good thing we didn’t wait as the lines were long and it would have made for a stressful morning.  All of our errands had made us hungry, so we grabbed some panini at a familiar deli on Via Cavour and headed back to our room for lunch and a short nap.  Our afternoon consisted of a journey across the river to Trastevere.  This is a section of Rome Greg and I had hoped to explore on our last trip, but we were unable to find the proper bus.  So what did we do this time? We walked!  Joyce is getting very suspicious of these walks as they always end up being longer than we expect, but she is certainly getting her exercise.  On the way there, we saw the Forum, Teatro Marcello, and Isola Tiberina which is the island in the middle of the river.  Trastevere ended up being very charming indeed.  Cobbled neighborhoods with wrought iron balconies dripping with brightly colored geraniums from window boxes and terraces.  We found a bench where we all three rested our barking feet (perches such as these are rare in Rome), and watched the locals enjoy a typical evening.  Grandpa arrived on his moped to scoop up his nine month old grandchild from the arms of the doting mother.  Proud grandpa popped into each shop showing off and giving other locals a chance to coo over the baby. One shop owner sat outside enjoying her local gelato and smoke, as all her regular customers greeted her with friendly smiles as she enjoyed her afternoon treat.  We stopped into a corner bar for an apertivo and enjoyed a Roman rarity, ice!  A cooling Aperol spritz and the smooth tunes of Depeche Mode fueled us to walk a little further and visit the church Santa Maria di Trastevere and we were lucky to find the six o’clock mass beginning and hymns being sung as we viewed the beautiful gold ceiling and amazing stained glass windows.  We finished our tour of this quaint village and headed to the ristorante where we had made a reservation earlier.  Surely we would be hungry after all that walking and we would be ready for dinner at 7:30 when they opened.  Perhaps because of the hearty meal we had last night or the heat of the day, or the jet lag; none of us were very hungry. Luckily our server didn’t mind at all if we ordered small plates and shared.  We enjoyed a spicy arugula and radicchio salad with baby cherry tomatoes and a vinaigrette that we got to dress ourselves at the table with salt, olive oil and aged balsamic vinegar.  Grilled artichokes were rich and earthy, but a pleasantly vegetarian addition to our meal.  This girl has been missing her veggies!  Finally Greg ordered a potato gnocchi, tender potato dumplings in a cheesy tomato sauce which was delivered to the table and served in a frying pan. After our shared light meal, we all felt refreshed and ready to brave the walk home.  Once back in our neighborhood we were ready for gelato.  This time I tried the stracciatella and dulce de caramel, Greg opted for stracciatella and tiramisu, Joyce tried the refreshing peach. To bed early, because tomorrow morning will be our visit to the Coliseum.  

Tuesday, 6/18

Excitement, or was it nervousness, filled the air as we packed our final bags and prepared to depart for Rome this morning.  Greg’s mom, Sue, had kindly agreed to pick up my mom (they live five minutes apart) and come gather Greg and I to drive us to the airport.  When Sue arrived on my doorstep with my mother, Joyce, in tow, my mom had a deer-in-the-headlights sort of look on her face.  “She’s nervous” Sue explained.  Thus followed a conversation explaining that my mom and I both have a hard time determining if we are excited or nervous as the emotions are very similar for us.  I myself had vacillated between fretting and bouncing around full of joy all morning.  We check our lists one final time and were whisked off to the airport, where our wait began.

Air travel is one of those experiences you tolerate to get to the end result.  Many moms have told me that childbirth is like this.  I cannot confirm this theory.  I equate the experience more to going to the dentist.  This is something you endure every so often so that you can have a shiny happy smile at the end of the ordeal.  In the interim you are crammed into an uncomfortable industrial chair, you suffer through people getting up in your personal space, it is difficult to breath, the items placed in your mouth are rather unpleasant, and then there is the physical discomfort.  The same can be said for our flight to Rome.  But rather than the brief thirty minutes I usually spend in the dentist’s chair, our flight lasted almost twelve lovely hours!  Of course we know it will be well worth it when we arrive in the beautiful ancient city and begin our adventures. 

Once on board Alitalia’s flight, which was delayed by one hour (on our last trip to Italy buses, trains, etc. all ran on Italian time, which is pretty much when they feel like it), we were reminded of how narrow the rows are and how snug the seats.  Once herded into narrow stalls with strangers, we were reassured of the camaraderie of hardship and the commonality of the human experience. Fellow travelers always surprise us with kindness.  The gentleman sitting next to me on the aisle, though he spoke little English was happy to trade seats with my mother, sitting across the aisle, so we could all sit together.  The man in front of us was fidgety and often bucked around in his seat distracting us from the likelihood of sleep but he made apologies by way of sharing his dark chocolate.  The other American tourists sitting behind us were happy to help us try to fix the movie on our screens, though “non funziona,” and “You just have to wait... maybe in an hour,” was the reassuring phrases the flight attendants used for their mantra when a passenger’s seat light failed to work, or the movie features refused to play.  And it was true, all through the seemingly eternal flight, we just had to wait for it to be over, watching silent movies between the seats ahead of us while our screens remained blank.  Dinner would no doubt be a diversion. Airplane food is rarely thrilling.  The best we could say about the pasta was that our culinary experiences could only improve from this point on in the trip. Of course, the hours of sitting cramped our lower backs, stiffened our necks, and wore on our nerves.  Yet,  in the end, we could not complain.  What are you paying for when you buy economy seats on a transcontinental voyage?  You are paying for this giant machine to magically float over land and ocean to get you to your destination.  We couldn’t be too grumpy as long as the flight was relatively smooth and got us to where we were going in one piece. Which of course it did, as you are reading this message we posted on arrival (That is, once we got an internet connection, because of course the Wi-Fi in our apartment was “non funziona” as well. We had to wait.)  Stay tuned to hear about our first day in Rome, more to report after pizza and a nap!

Monday, 6/10

Two years ago when Greg and I took our first trip together to Europe, people thought we were crazy to be traveling for fifty nights. Some questioned why we would take on eight countries with just our backpacks in tow?  Some wondered if we would get tired of all that ‘quality time’ together after so many weeks?  Some worried if we would even return on the same plane?  It turned out to be one of the defining events in both our lives and  we returned more in love than ever.  So, for this trip, we needed more of a challenge.  More countries? No.  More days? No.  How about another travel companion?  Could we manage eighteen days in Europe ... with my mother?  

What have folks said when we shared our travel plans this time?  Your husband must be a saint.  How generous of you to share your vacation with your mother.  That is very kind of you.  But of course, those are all comments from people who haven’t met my mother.

My mother, Joyce, turned sixty this year.  I can’t recall the last time she took a vacation.  She has spent the last fifteen years being a doting daughter to her ninety year old mother.  She also teaches seventh and eighth graders full time.  Somehow she manages to be an inspiration to all of her family and friends, as well.  She is a pretty special lady.  Plus she is tons of fun.  She loves to laugh, try new things and is enthusiastic about all of life’s endeavors. Truly, who could think of a better travel companion? 

When my father passed away this spring, the whole family was dealt a blow.  Even though my mother and father had been divorced for over a decade, his passing affected her greatly.  She sat by his bedside, kissed his brow, gave him words of encouragement.  I know she did this partially for the life they shared together, but more so she did it for me.  She put herself out there, took days off work, drove me to the hospital.  That’s the kind of mom she is.  That’s the kind of person she is.  And on top of the tragic events of our springtime, she also  had to contend with her sixtieth birthday.  She deserved something to look forward to, we all did.

When I asked my husband, “What would you think about taking my mom to Italy with us for her sixtieth birthday?”  He didn’t  blink, “Absolutely, let’s do it.”  So that is the kind of man I married.  His thoughts are always about my happiness and what makes me happy, he finds joy in as well.  While most men might dread spending time with their mother-in-law, he was excited to share the experience with her. 

Our trip is still a little over a week away.  I still have to close up my classroom, deliver report cards, and say good bye to my sixth graders, but the to do list is certainly shrinking.  As my responsibilities are slowly but surely melting away this week, the reality of actually being on that plane is coming into crisper focus.  I am finally able to join my mom and Greg in their mounting excitement about the journey ahead.