By Madeleine Kando
Boston, January 2023
I went to Tuscany this morning. I didn’t even bother taking a shower or brushing my teeth. Just sat down at my desk and started traveling. It is so easy these days. You don’t even have to pay for airfare. I saw beautiful villas with blue swimming pools and hills covered with vineyards bathed in sunlight. It was only 9 a.m., but there were sunsets everywhere. A bird's-eye view of the Via Chiantigiana, set to beautiful romantic music. I visited Volterra, Lucca, Siena.. My, what a beautiful country.
But I needed a place to stay to recover from all that beauty. That was the beginning of my downfall. I was drowning in VRBO offerings but couldn’t stop myself. My OCD nature prevented me from choosing willy-nilly. The villas that popped up on my screen looked nice, but were they private? Remote? Did they have the perfect view of the promised Tuscan landscape? Two hours later, I was still typing away; my back hurt, I had bad breath, and my hair was a mess.
I asked my husband to help select the perfect place, but his motto was, 'Let’s just go and see what happens. Let’s find a roof over our heads.' Are you serious? That is my worst nightmare; to land somewhere that I have not researched to death.
I look out on my snow-covered yard and see birds perched on the feeders, oblivious to my predicament. I wonder if they worry about finding the perfect birdfeeder. My Tuscan dream is slowly turning into a nightmare. I looked at so many beautiful villas, I could vomit.
Could I just pretend I have already been there? Would my friends call my bluff? Would everything I have seen on Street View for the past three days be close enough to the real thing? I am supposed to enjoy my Sunday. Go for a walk, play with my cat, and take a long, hot shower.
Rome, May 5th, 2023
Three months later, we are in Rome. The real Rome. After an 8-hour, exhausting Alitalia flight, we land at Fiumicino Airport. My first steps outside the terminal open a floodgate of memories. The smell of a big city transports me back to my early years, growing up in Paris: a mix of gas fumes, subway, and tobacco.
Dazed and jet lagged, we take a taxi to our hotel in 'Trastevere'. The taxi driver, a young man from Libya, laughs and says: 'You are staying in the real Rome'.
'Trastevere' (Italian for 'across the Tiber River), is a part of Rome that originally was populated by the poor. Its small, winding, cobblestoned streets transports you to an era when Jewish immigrants peddled their merchandise on street corners. At the time, Rome was just as class-conscious as any modern metropolis. Basically, it was a ghetto.
Our top-floor unit has an enormous balcony that gives us a 360-degree view of the Eternal City. Shrieking seagulls fly overhead, and the occasional cowbird hops its way along the railing, looking at us intensely with its beady eyes.
On the left, we can see the Vittoriano, with two large black chariots on its roof. Straight ahead, we see the Basilica di Santa Maria Maggiore, and on our right, in the hazy distance, is the world-famous St. Peter's Basilica. Am I still sitting at my desk in Boston, looking at Rome in Street View?
We go out for coffee and breakfast. On the 'Viale di Trastevere’, traffic is dense and noisy. The cracked pavement is strewn with cigarette butts and bottle caps. Garbage dumpsters are filled to the brim. Well-fed seagulls perch on top of them, guarding their loot. Right away, you can tell that mighty Rome doesn’t know what to do with the amount of garbage it produces.
It is said that the best way to see Rome is to walk, but I twisted my ankle just before we left Boston, so I hobble along, holding on to my husband’s arm for dear life.
He is weighing his options on how to see Rome with an invalid wife. The 'hop on, hop off' double-deckers look attractive, but I am in no condition to hop, and taking a taxi everywhere would quickly land us in the poor house. So I suggest renting a wheelchair, but my husband looks at me with such disgust, that I suggest he go off and explore, while I street-view Rome from my spacious 8th-floor balcony.
We try to be good tourists, but Rome is not for the faint of heart. You need strong armor to cope with the incredible amount of visitors. I read that 19,000 people a day visit the Colosseum. That is more than 2,000 people an hour! What exactly is the point?
We take a taxi to Palatine Hill, but cannot get in without a ticket. Somehow, taxis have evaporated in thin air, so we walk the whole way back across the Tiber River. Street-viewing Rome from my 8th-floor balcony seems like a very attractive alternative.
Where is the Rome that I pictured in my head? The quiet streets of La Dolce Vita? The moonlit fountain where Anita Ekberg wades into, fully clothed? Where is the Rome of my dreams?
We keep our excursions local. The Basilica de Santa Maria de Trastevere, one of the oldest churches in the entire city, is within walking distance. Slowly we get used to the beer caps and the herd of humans and by the end of our stay, we finally begin to enjoy the city.
Montecatini Val di Cecina, May 12th
We are in Tuscany. Our villa is completely hidden, even from the village. We can hear the shrieking of redheaded pheasants and the distant snorting of wild boar. The sun rises over the Tuscan hills and in the hazy distance, we see the Apennines.
Like many small towns in Tuscany, Montecatini was originally an Etruscan settlement. In fact, the entire region of Tuscany was home to the Etruscan civilization before the Romans conquered the area. They referred to the Etruscans as the Tusc or Etrusc, which is the origin of the word Toscana (Tuscany).
The busy, crowded streets of Rome are now a faded memory. We gorge ourselves on the landscape and take short day trips to the surrounding towns: Volterra, Siena, and Colle Val di Elsa. It is tricky driving on narrow, curved roads that are clearly built for tractors.
The Tuscan hills turn gold in the late afternoon sun. There are yellow mustard fields, dark purple flowers covering others, and bright red poppies lining the winding roads.
On the way to Siena, we visit Colle de Val d’Elsa. This town is so old, that we can easily imagine a group of Etruscan warriors charging down the narrow street, their shields and lances at the ready. The Roman legion is on the other side of the thick parapet. They will eventually incorporate this ancient civilization into their empire until the Romans, too, will be overrun by the 'Barbarians': the Longobards. Then, the city-states of Florence and Siena will take over, and the Medicis will reign for centuries. They will ignite the most important period in history: the Renaissance.
Peccioli, May 20th
We are now staying in Peccioli, slightly north of Volterra. It is a small town, but compared to Montecatini it seems large. Again, our apartment has an incredible view of the surrounding hills. Our host Elena shows us our bedroom with its arched, brick ceiling. 'Tonight, you will be sleeping in a medieval wine cellar' she tells us.
Tuscany is the birthplace of an endless list of famous people. Whichever direction we drive, we bump into one. Leonardo da Vinci was born 45 minutes from where I am writing this. Galileo was born 40 minutes in the other direction. Dante and Machiavelli were born in Florence; an hour as the crow flies, and Michelangelo was born an hour east of here.
There are stories about Da Vinci and Michelangelo disliking each other with a passion. Insults were flying freely every time they met. These giants were as narrow-minded in their personal lives as any Tom, Dick, or Harry. Did they not realize that history has enough room for all of them?
As with other periods in history, women are almost completely absent from the list of famous Tuscans. I guess they were too busy scrubbing floors and cleaning windows.
As we drive down a hill, a jet-black shape crosses the road. A big dog? A small cow? Another one emerges and disappears in the brush. A moment later, a tiny, lighter-colored version appears and hurries across. We are about to drive on, but the miniature wild boars keep coming. Ten in total. The parents wait in the grass. We slowly drive on, making sure we don’t hit any stray babies. We suspect someone will shoot them sooner than later. Boar hunting is a very popular pastime in Tuscany.
Today we drive to Vinci, the birthplace of Leonardo da Vinci. Vineyards and olive groves flank the winding roads. Tuscan villas, surrounded by elegant Mediterranean cypresses, top the hills of this magnificent landscape. Cypresses are the hallmark of this region. They serve many purposes, other than being beautiful. They are used as windbreakers, as property demarcations, and above all, to mark where people are buried.
We are surrounded by centuries-old architecture, by villages built by Etruscans, and vineyards passed on from generation to generation. It is time that what makes Tuscany so beautiful. It is simple as that.
Would Davinci have been the genius he was, had he not been born here? Of course, all these great men (where are the women?) couldn't flourish without the vision and generosity of their wealthy patrons: the Medicis.
Tomorrow we fly back to our lives in Boston, and already I miss that, which we haven’t left yet. When I asked my brother Tom, who is a veteran visitor, what he thought of Italy, He simply said, 'It is the most beautiful country in Europe'.
Italy might be politically dysfunctional, but once you have seen her beauty, it makes up for all her shortcomings.
Arrivederci Italia, te amo. leave comment here
