Arrivederci, Roma

Sunday, with somewhat heavy hearts, we left Roma for the next leg of our trip. We both really enjoyed Rome, and really enjoyed the people we met while visiting the Eternal City. But, the real reason we undertook this whole adventure is this month we are spending in Tuscany, so undertake it, we must.

After a bombolone and espresso, we hit the road about 10:30, and made it to our new landlord’s house about 1:30. We both had pictured Giovanni as a middle-aged man with his stomach sticking over his pants, but to our surprise, he was probably 30-something and very cheerful. He got in his car and led us on a chase through the back roads to our new home in Certaldo.

We didn’t mention to him that we had done reconnaissance work and instead, let him think we were seeing our home for the first time. And, in many ways, we were. And we were pleased to see the inside of the little apartment where we will be spending the next month.

It is absolutely darling, and the area in which it is located is astoundingly beautiful. It sits right in the middle of vineyards and olive groves, with a vista of hill towns. We have a balcony off of our bedroom where we look out at the vast beauty of the area. Our house actually sits in a little teeny-tiny community called San Benedetto, just outside of Certaldo. There is an old Church of San Benedetto, but it is no longer used. The little house in which we will live for the next month was the priest’s house.

It appears that the church is about ready to topple over, which doesn’t give me a whole lot of comfort. In fact, Giovanni told us (I’m not making this up, and he said it dead seriously) that if we sit outside on the patio, we probably should sit on the side opposite of the church in case the inevitable happens and the tower topples. I’m just going to trust in God’s grace and enjoy the whole patio until I hear a crunch. Bill and I have already scoped out where we’re going to run in the event of an earthquake. Here’s a photo of the crack in the church.

Early in the evening, we drove to the hill town of San Gimignano, a 10-minute drive from our house. They were reported to be having some sort of a dance, but, though we stayed until after 7, no dance transpired. We enjoyed some wine, and had a big gelato for our dinner. When we came home, we drank our limoncello on the balcony and Bill enjoyed a cigar.

We will have some trouble getting used to the heat. We had air conditioning in Rome, but no such luck here. We had hoped that it would cool down at night, but it is nearly 10, and doesn’t seem to be any cooler. I’m thankful that we at least have screens on the windows so that we can leave them open. I suspect however, that they will need to be closed during the heat of the day, as will the shutters. We notice that’s how the Italians do it. They shut up their houses entirely when the sun’s high in the sky. We will have to get used to this heat.

By the way, I need to add a number 11 to our top 10 list:

The Italian roads are narrow, as I have said. Even the lanes on the motorways are narrower than we’re used to in the United States. The divider in the median is usually concrete or metal about four feet high and is about a foot off the passing lane, leaving you no room for error. Shortly after leaving Rome, and while we were motoring along in the right lane, Bill looked in his rear view mirror and saw a car coming up fast in the passing lane. Suddenly it hit the divider. He seemed to lose control, swerving and then slowing way down. Bill and I assumed he had pulled over to check out his damage. Within a few minutes, Bill saw him roaring up the passing land again. It seems the accident had only slowed him down momentarily. He roared past us and was gone. A few minutes later, we notice that he had slowed down again and was now in the right lane. As we pass him, we notice that, while he was driving, he had rolled down his window and was trying to straighten out his mirror which had been smashed into his now damaged door in the accident. Now, while I say he slowed down, he was still going 120 kilometers an hour, or almost 75 mph. He finally gave up his futile attempt to repair his car on the fly, and hit the gas again and was gone in a few seconds.