We took the ‘Super’ train to Florence on our 2nd week in Italy after being filled with Roman and Venetian delights too numerous to mention in this short vignette. After picking up our rental car we drove to Lamole and then further into the mountains of Tuscany to the villa we had rented for the week in the small village of Greve in Chianti. Our first adventure was the drive to the villa. As we were driving up the tiny road into the mountains we got side swiped by a truck that came squealing around the bend with little room to spare. Let’s just say that we scraped by. Literally. Upon arrival we saw that the ‘town’ was a church, a restaurant and our villa. We settled into our place with the help of the local housekeeper and listened to the Church bells ring on the half hour. And then the hour. And then the next half hour…and the next and the next. Uh..oh…what started out as charming was of possible concern. We dreaded the nights of insomnia bolstered by the ringing of those church bells.

After we worked out who had which bedroom...we got the master bedroom with the eating veranda...smile...we went back into Lamole to go food shopping so we could have our meals at ‘home’ as much as possible. 2 hours later all 4 of us were fussing around in the kitchen – chopping and cutting and breading and setting the table. We sat out on the veranda eating our first home cooked meal in Tuscany. And it was good. Shrimp and spinach with fresh tomatos in fresh linguini. Olives and cheese and fresh bread for appetizers and a decent chianti while we watched the sunset. We raised our glasses and exclaimed…’Who eats better than us?’ the well worn toast passed on by a Boccafola cousin ‘Skinny’ seemed very appropriate at this moment.

The rest of our days were similar. Eating fresh eggs and tomatoes in the morning, bread and cheese and olives in the afternoon, pasta and chianti in the evening. Our commitment to full enjoyment was being honored with much joyful gravity. We walked the country roads and discovered small grape vineyards, goats grazing on wild flowers and old gnarled olive trees. And the church bells…well, they became our compass. We no longer needed a watch and we became synchronized to the sounds of the bells traveling along the summer breezes. They put us to sleep instead of keeping us awake. Woke us up for another blessed day.

And then our time was up. Seven days had traveled past us so quickly. As we reluctantly packed our belongings back into our rental care; we thanked the tiny town of Lamole for their generous beauty. While the church bells rang a final volley of farewell.

Autor

  Myrna S.

Posición

  Greve in Chianti

Categoría

  Costumbres locales

Fecha de Publicación

26 ago 2014 - 10:31:12

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