Italy: Why I Went, What I Did, and Why Everyone Should Go Somewhere Far Away, Alone (or Almost Alone), at Least Once in Their Lives

Part 2 (Tuscany)

by Robin C. Bonner

(Italy: Part 1))

Orvieto and Tuscany
The others were long gone when I headed down to breakfast on Monday morning. Packing up was a challenge, as I had already begun to collect souvenirs. I learned that first weekend not to buy books when traveling on a long trip and returning by air. The books were heavy, and I would have to lug them around with me the rest of the trip. Further, I would need to (somehow) get them home! I found myself thinking (too late) that I could always have ordered the books online and had them shipped. A lover of books, I found any reason not to purchase them as souvenirs to be a revelation. However, since I had already picked up several, I would reap what I had sown. (I had been to the Vatican Museum store, where I had picked up a coffee-table compendium of the museum's works, and I also had stopped at an on-the-street bookstore, where I purchased a bio of St. Francis of Assisi.)

The Cathedral in Orvieto, Umbria.

Once in Orvieto, however, things improved. We unceremoniously dumped our luggage into the van, happy to be free of it at last, and took a fumiculare (cable car) up the hill into the town. The sun shone down on our liberation. We toured the duomo (cathedral), enjoying the frescoes by Fra Angelico (one of the greatest 15th-century painters) and piped-in classical music, and took some time in the cool, dark quiet of the church to Google cathedral architectural terms (it had been a while since my days as an art major), so we could make sense of the descriptions in the brochure. Afterward, we strolled along, window-shopping until it was time to climb into the van for the final leg of the day’s journey: the two-hour drive to San Gimignano, a prominent hill town in Tuscany, where we would spend the next week of our Italian adventure.

While Tammy and the other traveler chatted in the front seat, I sat in the back and marveled at the rolling hills planted with grapevines. They reminded me of southern California. However, rows of tall, thin cypress trees shot up from the ridge, ramrod straight, adding an exotic touch. Each new sight thrilled me. I still couldn’t believe I was there; I was sure that if I pinched myself at any moment, I would wake up to find out it was all a dream. At this point, it had been more than four days since I had left Philadelphia, but it felt more like a month. With no husband or children along, I had only myself to answer to. I missed everyone, but it felt good, too, have time to think and explore on my own. Tammy left our group schedules so loose that there was a lot of time for that. In Tuscany, my chances for alone time would prove to be even greater.

The driveway to Hotel Villa Belvedere, which was perched on a hillside just outside the walled town, was a welcome sight. The family-run hotel, a building of coral stucco with green shutters, overlooked the surrounding Tuscan landscape. Franco, the owner, greeted Tammy warmly—we were just one of many groups of friends she had brought to Hotel Villa Belvedere over the years. As for us, this was another great place to stay. The hotel, a real haven, was surrounded by a spacious yard with shade trees, comfortable patio furniture, and even an in-ground swimming pool, not quite closed for the season. And, what a view! The farmland far below us rolled out for miles beyond the chain-link fence.

Hotel Belvedere, San Gimignano, Tuscany.

After checking out the main piazza (the centuries-old town square, Piazza de La Cisterna, complete with an old well) and stopping at an outdoor café to enjoy a cocktail (the Bellini—a blend of sparkling wine and peach nectar), we headed down another cobblestone passageway (it was difficult to call the winding stone foot paths streets), past the house of Santa Fina—San Gimignano’s patron saint—to Ristorante Le Vecchie Mura. The patio hung precariously over the edge of the hill, giving us a glimpse of both the stars above and the lights dotting the landscape below. We spent a couple of hours there, enjoying a bottle of wine and our first dinner in San Gimignano. It had been a long, travail-ridden day, but now all was forgotten.

San Gimignano: Under the Tuscan Sun

San Gimignano, from the Tower at the Town Hall.

Much to my delight, I found myself suddenly a character in the book/film Under the Tuscan Sun (which had been on my pre-trip reading and viewing lists, naturally). The memoir, by California university instructor and food critic Frances Mayes, recounts Mayes’s fairly impulsive purchase of a Tuscan villa, its lengthy renovation, and her subsequent love affair with the Tuscan countryside and its people. The film holds to the general idea but the plot that unfolds is largely fictional. It is nevertheless entertaining in its own right. Taking in book and film helped me mentally set the stage for the time I’d be spending in that exquisitely beautiful part of Italy.

Breakfasts at Hotel Villa Belvedere were simple but lovely. The aroma of baking croissants, which made its way into my room by about 7:15 a.m. each morning, grabbed my nose and literally pulled me down the hall to the dining room; I was lucky to get a shower first. The baked goodies accompanied provolone cheese, prosciutto, and other breakfast meats. Cereal, fruit, and yogurt were also offered, all buffet style. Drinks included various fruit juices, mineral or “fizzy” (seltzer) water, and cappuccino. The spread wasn’t as elaborate as Hotel Bramante’s, but it was delicious just the same and a welcome sight (and smell) each morning.

The weather was ominous on Tuesday, our first full day in town, so we prepared to trek in the rain. Having seen these sights many times, Tammy sent us off to explore without her. I picked up a small collapsible umbrella—one of the items I overlooked while packing—at a shop along the way. We climbed the hill of Via San Matteo and soon were stopping to catch our breath outside Collegiata di Santa Maria Assunta. Once inside the dimly lit church, we took in the centuries-old frescoes and the tomb of San Gimignano’s favorite saint.

The Collegiata di Santa Maria Assunta.

After our self-tour, we parted company to do some exploring on our own. First, I perused the basilica’s shop and purchased some picture postcards (taking photos was forbidden inside the church). I wandered in no particular direction, window-shopping in studio and boutique, comparing the quality and pricing of the locally crafted wares. The selection was impressive: Chianti and Vernaccia wines; food stuffs such as sausages, cheeses, and jarred truffles; and also non-consumables like leather goods, linens, soaps, clothing, and jewelry. I also poked around off the beaten track—the narrow cobblestone alleyways sometimes led to cloudy, drizzly (but fabulous) vistas—or just walked up some other little street I had missed earlier. Strolling along without a destination was new to me. I thought about the saying, “All who wander are not lost,” and I believe I had finally grasped its meaning.

I found the WC (water closet, or restroom), and came up with the half-euro coin required to use it. I managed to greet and leave the caretaker of that humble space with an appropriate “Buongiorno!” and “Arrivederci!” Completely on my own for the first time and achieving such a milestone (I’ll admit I was a little nervous about it), I felt well on my way to becoming a proper tourist. Each accomplishment was a baby step in that direction.

No foreign adventure is complete without ordering, consuming, and paying for a meal, and that Tuesday in San Gimignano was no exception. Soon, my growling stomach prompted me to seek out a café. And the rain, which was becoming more intense, made my decision to find an indoor haven even more imperative. La Boboli had just the right look—deep gold stucco walls, brightly colored tile, wrought iron trim. The ample yet inexpensive menu was also appealing. I spied golden-crusted pizzas in a glass case at the back of the dining room, waiting for takers. Yum!

Lunch at La Boboli.

Per the menu’s back side, Wi-Fi was available to patrons, so I asked my server for the pass code, then proceeded to write up and post an entry on Facebook—with a photo of my delectable little salad and glass of wine, to preserve that image, that feeling, for myself, and to share it with my friends. That proved to be one of only a few Facebook and/or blog posts I was able to make during the trip, as I discovered that I had very little time for writing with all the exploring I was doing during the day and the socializing usually required in the evening. Late at night, finally alone in my room, I checked email and weighed in on the work issues of the day. My one employee had started just days before I left, and I had hastily delegated projects. I had no choice but to monitor things while I was away. I also used that time to get in touch with Gary and the girls, six hours behind me, who were living out their own days. So, I came to treasure that hour or so at La Boboli, alone at my table with my simple meal, rain softly falling outside and snippets of multilingual conversations floating around me, and was glad I took the time to share it.

After lunch, while popping into even more shops, I had an idea: Maybe while I’m here, I’ll do all the family Christmas shopping! I wasn’t used to having so much time to myself, and I began to scheme how, during my trip, I could lighten my December gift-shopping burden. Shopping isn’t usually my thing. I hate the whole rat race: trying to bargain shop but ultimately just buying to meet holiday deadlines. That week, though, things were different—it was only October, so there was no hurry, and Tuscan culture called from those shops and drew me in. I felt it would be meaningful to bring the experience back and to recreate it with everyone at home.

San Gimignano leather goods.

In the early evening, Tammy hosted a little soiree for our tiny group on the veranda of Hotel Villa Belvedere. She produced a bottle of Chianti and a few appetizers, which we enjoyed in the waning sunlight. Soon we were tackling that hill into town once again, in search of another wonderful dining experience. We found what we sought at La Peruca, another of Tammy’s favorites, added to her list of dining venues, developed after much trial and error. Our conversation focused on the wonders of Italy, of Tuscany. We newcomers were so amazed by all of it.

Sant’Antima Abbey and Montalcino

Sant'Antima Abbey.

Montalcino.

Arriving in Montalcino and parking, we first toured the ramparts of the hill town. The sun had come out and our efforts in climbing the many old stone stairs were, of course, rewarded with a magnificent view, as the vastness of Tuscany stretched before us. Soon it was time for lunch, and we headed down to a little patio café just outside the Aglieta winery. I had been eyeing a Tuscan vegetable soup called ribollita but until then hadn’t had a chance to try it. Today was the day! I was not disappointed. It was far humbler fare than the wine that would accompany it seemed to deserve, but even in its simplicity, the thick, rich soup was wonderful and worthy.

So, it was during that lunch that I tasted my first Brunello di Montalcino. As soon as Tammy told me about the town and mentioned that we’d be tasting the “totally important” Brunello wine (it was produced only in Montalcino, from Sangiovese grapes), I texted family wine connoisseurs Amie and Todd (and cc’d Sarah and Gary) with the good news. They were duly impressed! I’m no wine expert, but when I took that first sip, I could tell that we were onto something special. The taste just wasn’t like any other wine I had ever had, regardless of price. It had a distinctive, rich, aged feel to it. Several varieties came with the tasting. Afterward, in the winery, I gave in to a special on a case of 2007 Brunello (it was about half-price and shipping was free). Tammy had ordered wine there in the past and had it shipped home, so I could rest assured that it would actually arrive. (I had it shipped to Sarah’s apartment in NYC, as PA doesn’t allow postal shipments of alcohol.)

Back in San Gimignano
After the drive back to the hotel, that evening, I tended to some personal matters instead of joining the others for a snack. (Amie and Todd would be celebrating their fifth wedding anniversary in Bar Harbor, Maine, that weekend, and I wanted to figure out how to send them flowers at their hotel—it was quite an online adventure!) When I finished, it was fairly late, but I was hungry and so decided to walk up into town by myself. (Yes, I felt that safe there; I’m not sure I would have done it in Rome.)

The air had grown chilly (we had left the summer-like heat of Rome far behind us), but I was comfortable in a long skirt, shawl, and boots. My plan was to visit a little outdoor café on Piazza La Cisterna (at the top of the hill, in the center of town) that always seemed to be open late. I reached my destination—it was actually a pretty hopping joint that evening—and was rewarded with music from a guitar and bass violin duo who had set up in the piazza, just yards away from the cafe. However, after I ordered my Bellini and Caprese salad, the small band began to pack up. I joked with several Brits at the next table that perhaps we could bribe them to stay a bit longer. Our plan worked, and it only took 5 euros! I enjoyed my small meal, complete with Italian breads and cappuccino. (Tammy warned me that coffee with milk was simply “not ordered” in the evening, but I’ll have to say that since I can’t drink coffee without milk, I had to ignore that one.)

View of San Gimignano towers, from stairway to top of Grand Tower.

Not to be missed was a tour of the San Gimignano Town Hall, Civic Museum and Gallery, and Tower, so I planned to spend some time there that day. I paid the entrance fee to the Town Hall (Palazzo Comunale), and then climbed the old and uneven stone steps to find many treasures: A cornerstone dedicated one room to Dante Alighieri. Filippino Lippi’s frescoes of The Annunciation adorned the walls. A secret trial room was now open to the public. More steps led to “Torre Grossa,” the highest of San Gimignano’s towers, which afforded an amazing view. Afterward, I met up with Tammy; we grabbed a slice of pizza (mine was mushroom, tomato, and eggplant—yum!), carrying it gingerly up to the Vernaccia Museum patio, a good place to locate a glass of the local Vernaccia wine. Our humble meal was followed by a short exploration of the grounds and ramparts, and a nice long chat between these two old friends. For all the time we were spending together on the trip, time alone—to catch up and nurture our long-distance friendship—was surprisingly scarce.

Florence

Florence: Piazza del Duomo, showing the Basilica of St. Mary and the Baptistry of St. John.

We also attempted to see the Galleria degli Uffizi (which houses some of my favorite paintings, including Botticelli’s “The Birth of Venus” and Filippo Lippi’s “Madonna and Child”), but that was not to be. By the time we tried to get tickets, they were sold out for the day. However, there was much else to see in Florence. After searching online, we decided to go on a personal “Galileo walking tour” to find a house that had been owned by the famous scientist. We crossed the Ponte Vecchio (a famous shop-embedded walking bridge) and took a left, hiking up the steep Costa di San Giorgio and finally coming across 17-19-21. We knew we were in the right spot because Galileo’s portrait was embedded in the wall over the doorway. For that success, we earned a gelato! Many Florentine shops were happy to oblige, and we chose one with indoor seating in which to enjoy our treat. Traipsing back into “center city” Florence, we sought to tour the Duomo (the church of Santa Maria del Fiore), but found that the doors had been locked at 5:00, about 15 minutes earlier. Not to be disappointed, we photographed the outside of the ornate structure, as well as the nearby Baptistry; its bronze doors boast reliefs for which it is noted far and wide.

A replica of David, by Michelangelo, in the Palazzo Vecchio, Florence.

One final stop, and one that I had been waiting for the entire trip, was at a Florence leather outlet near the Piazza del Duomo, another of Tammy’s recommendations, where I succumbed to buying a black leather coat. I had celebrated a “big birthday” in September, and with his birthday card, Gary had given me a gift certificate that read, “For that thing you want in Italy but think you shouldn’t buy.” Well, that left things wide open, and I laughed when I saw it. I replied, “You mean a leather coat?” I had always wanted one, and it was an item Italy was known for. He looked a little nervous, but said, “Sure!”

Handling calfskin leather wallets in Italy while I shopped for the men in my life had only convinced me that I needed to take the plunge. After all, both of my daughters had leather coats, so why shouldn’t I? I had waited long enough! When I finally tried on the beautiful coat I had spied as soon as I entered, it fit beautifully in every way, and I just couldn’t resist. And the fact that the very convincing salesperson looked a lot like George Clooney had nothing to do with it. When we finally boarded the train back to Poggibonsi, I was exhausted but excited, not believing we had spent an entire day in Florence and had seen and done (and bought) so much! I vowed that someday I’d return.

End of a Wonderful Week
When we returned from Florence, Tammy met us at the station without a problem, but while we were gone, she had been a very busy lady. That afternoon, she met the second tour group—three women and two teens—at the same train. They had come in from the U.S. on different flights (as airline employees, they had been on standby, not knowing in advance what flight they’d finally be able to catch). So, what appeared to be quite a recipe for disaster ended as a success story. Everyone was back at Hotel Bramante, waiting to meet us.

Misty views from San Gimignano.

Already, I had seen and done so much! And, I now knew that traveling on my own could work very well for me. I truly appreciated the very loosely structured agenda Tammy had arranged for us and also the fact that she booked great hotels and shared travel tips every step of the way. It had been the perfect way to test my wings a bit, after traveling for years as part of a couple or a family. I was enjoying my private room at Hotel Villa Belvedere and valued my time alone. I had come a long way as a traveler—and, for that matter, as a person—since I had left Philadelphia. I was getting to know myself and was much richer for the experience.

To be continued . . . Italy: Part 3 will appear in the winter issue of Empty Nest.