Toscana

It feels like we’ve fallen into a movie. We have arrived in Monticiano, our home in Tuscany for the next two weeks. We arrived close to 9 o’clock last night, having driven from Menton, the last city in France before you cross the border. The early morning sun shone through the window, dappled hills out over the terrazzo, the fountain gurgling away in the piazza; I should be sitting on the deck with an expresso. Domani.

Yesterday was a baking hot day that started with a walk around Menton, on the Cote d’Azur, beaches, sea-side cafes, markets, local lemons, our last patisseries francaises, and a Jean Cocteau museum which didn’t have any on their Jean Cocteau on display. Tant pis. We had had a meal the previous night at a waterfront restaurant called La vita e bella, pizza, pasta, risotto, and gelato with brownies.

We took the autostrada (autoroute) along the coast, and it was more viaduct and tunnel than regular highway. It must have been an incredible effort to construct, to engineer around the deep valleys and ridges that cut along the coast. Far below us were the seaside towns, with beaches and marinas, houses and churches. All around us were terraced farms and greenhouses. After a few hours we passed Genoa and cut off the highway to find a beach. Not so easy. Signage in Italy is nowhere near as clear as in France, where there are numerous arrows pointing everywhere. Here signs are optional and the motorcycles are even more crazy than in France. After exploring Ziglisomthingia, we ended up in Lavagna, just before Cinque Terre. A random sign with waves led us to the beach, well, a little strip of public beach between two private beaches for patrons of the restaurants there. We successfully negotiated the parking ticket machine, glad that out Euros still worked here, and then headed to the sand for a dip and a picnic. The sand burned our feet but the water was warm. At the bottom it was even cool. It took no time to dry off, and we had to hide in the shade to not melt as we ate – baguette, tomatoes, jambon cru, but now known as pane, pomadoros e prosciutto. Voices and accents all around us told us we were not en France any more. Another dip and then back to the autostrada.

With Rowan to guide us and Tegan to entertain, or nap, we followed the road into Tuscana. Mountains, big ones with snowy peaks, loomed to the north. The land turned more pastoral, and industrial at the same time. We came across fields and fields of sunflowers! More than we’ve ever seen. Mythic places passed by – Pisa, Firenze, the Arno, and then, cutting of the highway and winding down twisty roads, more towns with almost unpronounceable names and three-wheeled Biaggio mini-trucks, and then we were at Siena. Glimpses of the Duomo through the trees. It seemed surreal that we were finally here! Though not quite yet.

Another almost hour or so winding down the SP73, not quite sure if we were on the right road, and then Rowan springing to life, saying this is it, its just a bit more! Rolling hills, forests, vineyards, more sunflowers, and a sign that actually said Monticiano! We roll into the piazza – there are shops here, and restaurants. There is the church. But where to find Raphaella and the casa? We park after two wrong turns, me a bit grumpy and tired, not letting Tegan search for her flats just wanting to get to the casa. The older couple watches us park. I ask them if they speak French. Non. English? Non. So with the magic of hand gestures and slow speech and a the few words of Italian I know, I was guided by the nonna to Raphaella’s building (her dress shop now closed, and her away as she was expecting us on Saturday – despite my email last week to Giacomo, the agent). Someone greets us and tells us to park in front. I say my mille grazie to the couple and we finally get to bring our things, so much stuff after two months of travel – I think I bought too much wine and to many books – up to the apartment.

We are a bit disappointed. Maybe it is hunger or exhaustion or too many ‘Under the Tuscan Sun’ type films. It is an apartment overlooking the village square and church. It is fairly modern, the square loud, we have barely any food, but it will do. There is a great terrace overlooking the hills. Sure the bar/café was loud last night and the pack of local ragazzi (kids) were biking and scootering and yelling, but we are in Tusany! I grilled the last of the baguette with chevre and the fig jam we made in Castelnau on Saturday, cooked the beans and carrots with Corrine’s herbs, and opened a bottle of Gamay from the Loire. It could be worse! I just met the neighbour and had a conversation, more or less, where we talked about the weather and where we are from and how we slept and I introduced myself, and she offered her herbs and any help necessary. It will be good. We need to settle in, accept the life here, that people live con gusto, speak loudly, enjoy life, and in a month’s time we will be chatting away. Buenvenuto alla Toscana.