Dec 5, 2009
By Lisa T. Bergren
You know those romantic, calendar-worthy shots in Tuscany that are taken of winding, cypress lined roads, among fields and stone houses? Yeah, they’ve likely been shot from locations all around us.
The Views
I have a harder time adjusting to the time zone change than Tim. He arises early and begins taking his own calendar-worthy shots, making use of the sweet morning light, while I force myself to sit up mid-morning. In a jet-lagged stupor I stare and stare out the windows of our amazing villa–from the window at my right, a valley that shows off Pienza, perched high on a cliff, like the masthead on a ship, and from the other, a valley that seems to be the throne room of Mt. Amiata.
Monticchiello
We grab some breakfast–a crusty bread, cheese, and crazily orange eggs (grass-fed chickens? corn-fed chickens?)–shower and dress, bent on seeing what lies around our hilltop perch at Terre di Nano. Driving out the road, we hang a right, in the direction of Monticchiello, rather than left, which leads to Montepulciano. The dirt road descends steeply into the valley below, and suddenly we are beneath a canopy of drought-friendly oaks. Shortly thereafter we’re climbing, and the tiny 13th century village of Monticchiello emerges beside us. We find a parking spot and hike up, hoping to tour the walls and tower we can see from across the narrow valley.
It is Sunday, and it’s beautiful out, so many Italians have day-tripped in, along with a few foreigners. Groups in Sunday best surround tables, talking in animated fashion and drinking deep, red chianti, probably steeped from grapes grown within a five-mile radius. As we watch, some of the men shed jackets and ties, rolling up their sleeves. It feels like we’re walking by a family reunion or a block party bringing forth neighbors that have lived together for thirty years. Laughter, good natured arguments, wide hand gestures.
We stop at the tiny Church of Santo Leonardo e Cristóforo, notable for its fresco remains, and quietly process around its interior, absorbing the ancient artwork, the small circle of chairs surrounding a tiny electric organ (all that remains of a daily mass group? the choir, practicing?) and cobwebs across the windows. From the doorway, looking out, we glimpse an old woman, sitting by her window in the sun, dolefully staring at passersby beneath her.
We move on out and climb to the top of the town, heading toward the Torre (tower) only to be stopped by a sign that we discern (given our limited Italian) that the city of Siena had once tried to restore, but apparently abandoned. The tower, and the remains of the wall, are fenced off. Probably for our safety. I consider trying to get around or over the fence, so dearly do I want to reach them, but then give up, walking with Tim down the small road, past a tiny gate in the ancient wall, a splintered, marble plaque in the dirt below it. It, too, is fenced off and overgrown with foliage, so I can’t pick up the shards of white stone to see what was written on the other side. This is Italy–centuries of history, only partially discovered.
HISTORY IN BRIEF: This town was a key part of Siena’s defensive line. It was occupied or destroyed, over the centuries, by the Florentine, Orvietani, and the Montepulcianesi. In 1553, it suffered its most serious damage, when it was attacked by the Imperial Army during the War of Siena. All that remains of the once mighty fortress are the southern walls, a part of the north (plus the massive tower that can be seen from all around), and portions of the rest.
We meander through the village, a tidy, picturesque place, fantasizing about picking up an available apartment, or the house that abuts the old wall at the top, with the spectacular views of the valleys all around. Then we return to our car, drive those winding, cypress-lined roads, past a group shooting a car commercial, past Pienza and a medieval castle (which we’ll tour later), pecorino factories/shops (local cheese), Montepulciano and then home to La Casetta.
Evening at Terre di Nano
We spend the late afternoon working on this web site, soon to be launched, and watching the sun set in slow, languid fashion. We consider taking a dip in the pool, but then decide it’s too much work, walking all of two hundred feet. We’re that relaxed. We eat pecorino and bread, pour one glass of red after another, and sit in two chairs at the edge of our garden, living a Corona-like commercial of two people utterly at peace. Except we’re a hundred miles from the nearest beach.
And that’s just fine by us.
SEE OUR OTHER FIVE POSTS IN THIS SERIES:
READ PART 1: Umbria and Orvieto
READ PART 2: Monticchiello
READ PART 3: Montalcino
READ PART 4: Pitigliano and Saturnia
READ PART 5: Pienza
READ PART 6: Montepulciano
Taking it slowly, as we feel like it. Or not.
[...] 2: Orvieto, and Terre di Nano, [...]
[...] READ PART 2: Monticchiello [...]
[...] READ PART 2: Monticchiello [...]
[...] READ PART 2: Monticchiello [...]
[...] READ PART 2: Monticchiello [...]