Today we journeyed to Castelnuovo Berardenga and San Gusme. Thanks to a timely satellite loss on the ever unreliable GPS, we also toured the mist shrouded central Tuscan highlands. Wait a minute, I don’t think there are supposed to BE central Tuscan highlands. Guess you’ll just have to take our word for it, because we were shrouded in fog, we were high, and the GPS occasionally swore we were still in Tuscany.
No it was not a horse’s head we found in our beds upon awakening a few mornings ago. But after Doug’s scattering of the locals with the BMW and my apparent stealing of a couple of souls with my camera snapping photo shot (see Soul Stealer and Who put the Crazy in San Pancrazio posts), the very next morning outside of the front door of our villa, we did awake to find this dead body turn up on our doorstep. Villagers sending a message perhaps? You’ll notice I waited a few days to post this…….just to be sure it was nothing!
On Wednesday evening we visited our landlord hosts for a cooking lesson. Despite fits and starts in finding this place that was only 20 minutes away (took us about 55 minutes) we finally arrived at Podere il Doccio out in the Tuscan countryside. Greeted by our young hosts Irene and her brother Eduardo, we started off with wine. We made Strawberry Tiramisu, homemade tagliatelle pasta, with sage pesto, Saltimbocca (tender beef topped with prosciutto, cheese, and sage rolled up in individual servings and cooked), We started off with making the strawberry tiramisu and when that was complete, moved on to making the tagliatelle pasta.
We all took our turns at rolling out the pasta. Once it is rolled out paper thin so that you can see through each 18 inch by 36 inch section of dough, it is placed in another room to dry for a time. This photo is of Irene doing the “pasta dance” while I try not to screw up the rolling out of the dough…”You don’t need to press down….just move your hands to the outside!”
We rolled out 3 of those pasta sections. While the pasta was drying, we took turns making the pesto using a mortar and pestle on the sage leaves and garlic cloves adding olive oil and a “pinch” of sea salt. (Note, apparently Italian pinches are quite large, but you’d have to ask Lynda and Barb about that) With the pesto now ready, we turned back to the drying dough blankets or future pasta. Bringing each section in one at a time and folding it up, we each each took turns cutting it into tagliatelle size pasta and then vibrating your knife under only the first layer and then lifting it up so that it unravels in the air. Boiling the water with only sea salt in it, the now cut pasta was cooked a few minutes until al dente. The cooked pasta was combined with the pesto and we all all sat down to eat our Primi course. The Saltimbocca was then pan cooked in olive oil and white wine and served with steamed fennel, a big leafy vegetable resembling a cross between cabbage and lettuce.
Our hosts, Irene and her brother Eduardo were joined by their younger brother, Julio and their parents, Francesco and Marina. They all spoke very good English and we sat around their dining table and talked and laughed over dinner, dessert and wine for 2 and a half hours. It was quite a remarkable experience that 24hours later we are still talking about.
When we woke up this morning, the ladies of our group wanted to visit the weekly town market in Montevarchi. (Sounded suspiciously like more shopping to me). With the rain coming down and visibility dropping as we spoke, we drove off to find Montevarchi’s weekly market. Once we got to town of Montevarchi, I directed our fearless pilot down the wrong way of a one way street only once and with all things considered, counted that as a victory. Once in the town, Barb and Lynda sniffed out the market by observing the bags people were carrying while either walking or…….riding their bicycle while at the same time also holding an umbrella. There are very talented people here in Italy.
The market was very lively and would probably have been quite fun had the rain not been coming down like pitchforks and hammer handles. (Ooooh, there is that pitchfork word again reminding me that in some circles of villagers, I could be a wanted man) 
Once everyone was thoroughly soaked and “shopped out”, our thoughts predictably turned to FOOD. We headed for the prepared food section of the market and placed our orders for hot porchetta (pork) sandwiches and lasagna. While Doug suggested we take our food bounty home and eat it, I was prepared to eat it standing right there in front of the counter since there were heat lights overhead where you stood to order. Though I have no hair to get wet in the rain, my bare scalp sure appreciated the heat lamps.
Back home to eat and then observe the Pausa — that period from 1:00 to 4:30 every afternoon where most stores shut down and people go home to rest. It’s now 6:30 at night here, the rain stopped and there are murmurs about where we should eat for dinner tonight. Not sure, but I know it’s gonna be good.
We seem to have settled into a comfortable routine here in Pergine Valdarno, Whoever gets up first makes the coffee then we sit at our kitchen table drinking coffee and eating the delectable pastries purchased at the local bakery. We all check our correspondence ( we enjoy your comments) as we discuss the plans for the day. Where to go, where to eat, etc. We have our assigned seats in the car. Doug the driver, Dale in front navigating, and Lynda and I in the backseat offering assistance as needed. Okay, so maybe Lynda and I think more assistance is needed than the guys do, Anyway… With much, I mean much, laughter and sometimes just a little frustration we set off for the hills of Tuscany. Make that hills and CURVES of Tuscany. Blind curves where you can’t see the truck coming in your lane or the bicycle. Narrow roads that are barely wide enough for our car let alone that little blue car that’s hurtling down the hill at us. Oh, but I can’t begin to describe the things we have seen. Just the countryside of rolling hills, rows of grapes and olive trees would be enough but then all of a sudden we are driving through a small village that’s been around longer than our country. We might find a Pizzeria or take a picnic or maybe just a gelato. Then it’s home for a nap before deciding where to go for dinner. The Italians eat dinner very late so we’ve found ourselves getting home anywhere from 11pm to midnight. Then pretty much right to bed so we can get up and do it all over again. We are having a blast!
You can see the zombie like state of the occupants in our car in the foreground of the photo
You can see the lookouts sitting there ready to jump up and spread the alarm…..through every village, middlesex and farm.
Yesterday was a turning point for me. I went from a starry eyed little schoolboy to a …….. Nahh, not really…..scratch that thought. Let’s just say that after our wonderful picnic lunch in Monte San Savino that was topped off with Gelato and a cookie from the Gelateria in the background of the picnic photos, we were ready to start moseying back home to our villa in Pergine Valdarno. We climb into the BMW and try to find our way home over a road we haven’t traveled yet. Everything is going well when Doug spots this little village up on a hill off to the right. It was called San Pancrazio. I remarked at the time about the word crazy in the name. Little did I know how true that was. Doug proceeds to pull the Beemer up into the town at 90 kph scattering the locals, and then parks right in the town square. My first clue that something was not quite right was after I opened my car door to get out, no one else in the car moved. “Are you guys coming?” I asked. No one responded…..it was like they were staring straight ahead into nothingness. I don’t understand. Okay, I told the blank faces with the faraway looks, I’ll be right back.
I walk up and around a corner trying to get a picture of the church with the steeple but no good shot is available. I return by the car where I take a picture of the main square and town hall. when I post the photos, you’ll be able to see in the foreground of that photo our car which holds Doug, Barb and Lynda. Note the zombie-like looks on their faces. I walk over and snap a shot of the valley far below this hilltop perch. I take one more shot and then notice the townspeople milling about our car. As I walk back to our car….the crowd parts and allows me to climb in. No words are spoken. Like a robot, Silently Doug mechanically starts the car and begins to back out to return down the road we came. The trance like state that Doug, Barb and Lynda seem to be in is something out of the movie, Children of the Damned. They said nothing of what happened when I was gone. I begin to wonder if the townspeople sprinkled some magic dust on them or something while milling about our car. Lower down the road, as we drive past two old folks sitting out in their field (I now think they must have been the lookouts) I ask Doug to stop so that I can get a photo of the church tower. He silently stops the car and I again get out and walk back up the road without a word from the other occupants. It is not a great shot of the tower but in the lower left of the photo I can see the farmer and his wife sitting out in their field, so I snap it anyway. As soon as I did, they jump to their feet and begin shouting at me in in Italian in rapid fire fashion and waving their arms. Translation of the actual words they were saying was beyond me but I did think at the time, Hmmmmm, and as Jemma says, “That’s not good!”
I race back to the car and jump in. It’s like the trance has been broken. Doug, Barb and Lynda are all rapidly chattering at once. Looking like the wheel man from the movie Drive, Doug now chooses to tell me that from his watching the Discovery Channel or the History Channel or whatever the hell other channel he watches, he’s learned that these townspeople think when people snap their photos, they are ACTUALLY stealing their souls. Uhhhhh, hello? Do you think that might have been important information to share with me BEFORE I got out and did what I did? In any event, we made it home without problem and then returned in the dark to Civitella for dinner. I’ll admit that while eating dinner, I kept expecting to see swarms of villagers carrying torches and pitchforks to start milling about outside the restaurant door. Actually, however a very nice and enjoyable Tuscan meal was had by all and we returned safely home afterwards.
Finally, simply some pleasant photos of Civitella:
Then it was on to Monte San Savalo…..and our first picnic lunch it Italy. Tuscan bread, pecorino cheese and salami from our local butcher in Pergine Valdarno, water and wine!
I’ve yet to get to the scary people in San Pancrazio……but with these computer problems I’ve been having, and the fact that it’s now midnight here, I think I will wait and post about that tomorrow morning when I get up. Lets just say that tonight at dinner, we were all on the look out for angry villagers with torches and pitchforks…..(well, maybe not all of us) Ciao!
During our travels of the ancient hill towns of Tuscany we today arrived in the village of San Pancreazi, or something like that. I’m pretty sure that’s Italian for San Pancreas, so I’m going with that. I knew something was different about this town when upon parking near the church, Dale got out of the car and an old woman wandered by muttering something about Americanos under her breath. I guess she saw he was wearing socks and put two and two together. She joined a group of her peers all of whom appeared to be around 110 years old. They talked loudly in an ancient Italian that sounded more Etruscan than the Italians in our village.
Anyway, Dale finally returned to the car after snapping photos of most of the village…about 3 shots. We told him about our warm welcome and turned down the road, but Dale spotted our new friends and wanted to stop for one last picture, so I stopped in the road. Suddenly he came running back to the car singing his oft repeated song; “Lets get the heck outta here!” Being used.to this by now, I waited until we had gained a little speed. Who knew a BMW can do 130kph in second? Did you know they can get back down to 10 for a hairpin turn in seven feet? Anyway, once he peeled his face off the windshield we asked what happened? Dale swears all he did was to take a photo of our new little group of friends, whereupon the old folks all jumped to their feet and started yelling and waving their arms.
Apparently as it often does in times of stress (see Scofflaw of Bologna) Dales command of second disc Rosetta Stone Italian left him, and he was unable to directly interpret the epithets hurled by the locals, but the body language was pretty clear. Thankfully none of the rocks hit the Beemer. Having now finished The Monster of Florence, a book in part about Amanda Knox’s insane prosecutor, I know that some of these hill folk are pretty superstitious, and think Dale was capturing their souls along with their images. I suggested we go back and explain that the Thief of Venezia was more interested in plastic bags than souls, but as usual the group shot me down like a one engined B17 over Dusseldorf.
Tuscany is a beautiful part of ITALY, and there is a new adventure in every village!
Moving from the stronghold through the village, you first come to a palace that was built in 1385.
Moving farther into the village, you come to the church and the town square where the World War 2 memorials are and the executions by the Nazis took place.
Here’s the square where the executions took place
Got bounce out again…..sorry, now part 3. This is kind of a depressing post, but these people put these memorials here so that we would remember the atrocities and so the dead would be remembered for future generations.
camanoescape - The Wagnerson's Travel Adventures 