While I recorded these musings day by day, I can't be assed to post 14 separate entries. So, here they are in one big lump.
Saturday, August 7 - we arrived late afternoon, after flying from London to Florence, picking up our rental vee-hickle, a surprisingly nimble Ford Galaxy 8 seater. We had rented Casa del Saraceno in (turned out to be 7 miles outside) Anghiari, in Tuscany. The house was a restored 100+ year old villa, with infinity pool and a magnificent view over forested valleys. That first night we dined on Italian comfort food (pizza, pasta) in Anghiari, and congratulated ourselves on finding heaven.
Sunday 8th ... OK, so pretty much every day from here on involved some hours in and around the pool, and a drive out in the evening to a local (but of national / international standard) restaurant. This evening however, we had Lawrence's special BBQ, which was of equally high standard.
Monday 9th ... We worked out that one or the other of the dogs that live on the farm down the lane has stolen one of our swimming pool balls each night, and this morning deposited in return a ratty pair of bikini bottoms. Needless to say, we won't try throwing those around in the pool. After returning from dinner in Anghiari, I fell asleep while everyone watched Harry Brown (starring Michael Caine), on the DVD player in our house. Therefore, the movie shall remain review-less.
Tuesday 10th ... Pavey, her sister Rippy, and my other sister-in-law Beverley strolled down past the ball-snatching dogs to another small farm. This one allowed visitors to watch the goat milking, and buy goat's milk and cheese. Later we drove the 40 miles to regional jewel Cortona (where Under The Tuscan Sun was filmed). Cortona, like almost every Tuscan town, was built on a hilltop and fortified in the 13th century. As such, they're all picture perfect. After lunch, Vivek surprised everyone by proposing to Rippy (he had brought the ring with him), so we hot-tailed it back to our villa and broke open the champagne.
Wednesday 11th ... Today was supposed to be a golf day, but instead we had breakfast in Arezzo, in the shadow of a church housing frescoes created by Piero della Francesco, whom many credit as the first artist to properly render perspective. I peeked in, but the recently restored frescoes were off limits to the public, so I got my butt hauled up and down the hills on which Arezzo is built. We had lunch at the excellent Logge Vasari (www.loggevasari.it), on Arezzo's Piazza Grande. Not that it matters in light of Vasari's architectural masterpieces scattered around the square, but I had gnocchi with a king's ransom's worth of white truffle shavings. Later that afternoon, I managed to fall asleep pool-side. Lawrence and the others legged it inside when there was brief thunder and the threat of rain, hoping that yours truly would get wet. Fortunately, my inner survival instincts kicked in, and I woke up and spoiled their fun. We had dinner in Anghiari at Piazza Baldacci, and now I'm thinking "did we really do and eat all that in one day?"
Thursday 12th .... We've now encountered spiders, giant grasshoppers, 1"-2" black scorpions, and so many assorted bugs it's like an entomologist's paradise. The crickets (cicalas, or cicadas) are louder than 747s. An unbelievable dinner at 2 Michelin starred Ristorante da Alighieri (www.daalighiero.it) in a 14th century cellar in Anghiari. I remember the chicken liver salad, gnocchi with truffles, pork with port reduction, ricotta soufflé with truffles, bisquit with wine, panacotta, and espresso teamed with Brunello di Montalcino and a syrah with an unpronounceable name.
Friday 13th ... drove the 1.5 hours into Florence to meet Krish at the airport, and get our Il Duomo fix. Weather wet, to say the least. Brollies and plastic covers, so not much time spent admiring Fillippo Brunelleschi's handiwork.
Saturday 14th ... back to Florence to drop newly-engaged Rippy and Viv at the airport. I'm dog tired at end of 2 days of driving.
Sunday 15th ... Dinner at the fabulously elegant Ristorante Fiorentino, (www.ristorantefiorentino.it/Ristorante.aspx) 10 miles away in San Sepolcro, More pasta and tartufo (truffle), and more Rosso di Montalcino.
Monday 16th ... Enjoyed Perugia and Assisi, the latter being made famous by St Francis of Anaheim, it being Disney-perfect. Dinner in the main square of Assisi, then what felt like a long drive back on the world's least lit freeway. Bloody Italians! They build some of the fastest cars you can buy, and then make it virtually impossible to drive them on their bumpy and poorly-lit roads.
Tuesday 17th .... another one of Lawrence's BBQs, washed down with the last of the champagne and gallons of Montalcino.
Wednesday 18th ... Why is there nothing to report today? Because I had a brain fart and missed the entire day. I thought we had 3 days left after today, but it turns out I've got one day less than expected. Where did that day go?
Thursday 19th ... The aim of most vacations is to relax so totally that one forgets time. Trouble is, we did that too literally yesterday, missed an entire day (don't know how). I said "only two days left" and was corrected by a chorus of "no, tomorrow's our last day!" boy, was I disappointed. Dinner at Nene in San Sepolcro, which epitomized the Italian nightlife experience: outdoor restaurant, curbside medieval walled city, sipping Limocella while 4 generations of local families stroll past, several times each way. That way you get to see the hot, the not, the cool, and the upturned collar sporters, the Maseratis and the scooters, the non-trendy tees and the never-trendy sweaters around the neck, the hotly-debated man bag (is an over the shoulder man bag more, or less manly than a man's clutch bag, and should a man be banned from Man's Club for having either?), and a million other things to gawp, gloat and gossip about.
Summary
For a country with more antiquities per capita than anywhere else on earth, Italy does a great job of preserving, presenting and co-habiting with 2,000 year old Roman, 800 year old Etruscan, and 300-500 year old Renaissance works. It's the 1-5 year old stuff that lets them down ... the newer architecture is uninspired, even drab, the roads are sub-standard, and they're still making and playing Europop!
The food is fabulous, but maybe not as fabulous as they think. The quality of what they serve is unquestionable (none of the "What! They eat that?" you get in France or pretty much anywhere in Asia), but they lack in variety. The claims that "here we serve traditional Arrezoni dishes, completely different from the Umbrian food they serve in the next county" is, in my opinion mostly marketing BS, albeit marketing BS perfected over 2,000 years. Strangely, it reminds me of that tee-shirt with the Amish guys saying "let's ride on over to the next valley and kick some Mennonite ass!" One more food fact: while truffles are wonderful (and I must've eaten a sack-full in the past 2 weeks), after a while you've just had enough damned pasta, salami and bruschetta, and you start craving all the other dishes available in most other countries but curiously absent from Italian towns. It's probably the same trying to get sushi in Shreveport, Louisiana, but I'm only generalizing.
Another potentially inappropriate association, prompted by the "you CAN have too much of a good thing" sentiment is that viral email / image from a few years ago picturing a hot model with the caption "No matter how hot she is, someone, somewhere is just sick of her sh*t".
There are no discernible traffic rules, on road or sidewalk. It wasn't until I moved to the USA that I realized the English subconsciously walk to the left, while Americans subconsciously walk to the right when passing in a corridor or on the sidewalk. Italians don't seem to have worked that out yet.
Finally, a Tuscan hilltop forest in summer is just like land that time forgot, or Jurassic Park. Whenever some scary-ass creature lands on your gently suntanning leg, another even scarier hairier monster straight out of John Carpenter's The Thing buzzes past trailing a banner that advertises "appearing tonight, in a bed near you".
Which reminds me of the true high points of the vacation:
1. Elbows resting on the edge of the infinity pool, blasting wasps with water pistols, trying to come up with more original quotes than "I'll be back" in our best Austrian knucklehead accent.
2. Spending time with Lawrence. It doesn't matter whether he's winning dominoes by a whisker, or I'm thumping him at scrabble, no sooner do we end 2 weeks together than I'm anxiously planning another week, or two, somewhere else.
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