Un Villaggio Piccolo

A simple day today: the main part was spent travelling. Arrivederci Milano, hello to a new Airbnb home.

I had booked us on an 11.20 train out of Milano Centrale station, not entirely sure how we'd get to the station but sure we could figure something out. I didn't want to ask Filippo or his wife for a lift to the local station,  being sure that at least one of them would be at work. And anyway, I wasn't sure how often the local trains ran or how reliable they'd be - both times we've come in on one, they've been 10-20 minutes late. But after I'd made the booking, we starting using the local buses with their route through the airport, and every time I had noticed a shuttle bus to Centrale waiting there. I looked it up, and they run on the half-hour and cost 5Euros, so that seemed to be the answer.

Working backwards, that meant leaving the flat at 10. Leaving the key for Filippo presented another problem, because it wasn't a dead-lockable door. You needed the key on the outside to be able to lock up. But after dinner last night Filippo said that he had the day off work today, because he was taking one of the boys to the doctor, and he would come over at 10 to 10 to get the key. This was okay, but we had hoped to use the time right up to 10 o'clock for a bit more shopping. We'd had a walk or two through the local shopping centre, but not when the shops were actually open, so I'd hoped that this morning we could have breakfast at one of the breakfast cafes, then do a final bit of shopping, at some proper "ordinary" shops, just popping back to pick up our bags and then be ready at the bus stop at 10.

This plan nearly worked. We were packed and ready to go (we're getting so good at this) by 8.30, which meant we could go and choose our breakfast café from one of the half-dozen or so that were there. We thought the one that was furthest away was going to be the best (Stephen had glimpsed it one evening) but when we got there they had very little variety in their pastries, and very few of them, so we continued round in a loop, and found another with plenty of mouth-watering treats. I had a wholemeal croissant and a mini-donut, and Stephen had some focaccia with ham. I read a newspaper. It's wonderful how nearly I can read Italian! Vietnamese and Japanese newspapers - not a chance, there is far too much unknown vocabulary; but Italian! You get to make an informed guess at the meanings, and often it makes sense! What luxury, and so easy, to learn a romance language like this.

It was around 9, and we'd finished breakfast, so we set off to do our shopping. There weren't actually that many clothes shops, only two or three. One looked nice, but its hours were from 9.30 on. Peering through the window, it wasn't too promising (a bit too dressy for what I wanted to buy) and we walked on. Another shop had some clothes in the window, but I couldn't see a door. Going in the closest door, which I thought must be for the shop next door, it turned out that the whole place was a chemist's shop, and the clothes were just a display of pyjamas for invalids. Even so, I half-wondered if there might not be something I could use...? No, no, there wasn't. At 9.40 I went back to the shop that was to open at 9.30, but it was still closed. So that was that.

Back to the flat. Twice this week Filippo had had occasion to tell us he was running 10 minutes late, so we were wondering what to do if that happened. I used the time to get bus tickets on my phone. The tobacconist across the road from the bus stop didn't sell tickets (unlike most tabacchi), and there was no machine at the bus stop, so that will be why I was advised to download the app. I had, but it was a pain to use, and using a credit card for 3euros of bus tickets just seemed ridiculous. So this time I tried the app's other option of using my SMS credit. We've been topping it up 10Euros at a time, but I don't know how to check how much credit there is. Still, it was easy to buy the tickets, and so I did. It was now 9.52. Filippo was only 2 minutes late, but I felt I had better ring in case he got any later. When he answered, he was already at the door of the apartment block.

Filippo insisted on taking us to the local station. He said there would be a train at 10.30, it was a 20 minute ride, and even if it was 20 minutes late it would be okay, because we'd be at the platform already. We could hardly refuse, so that's what happened. 10 minutes later there were lots of hugs and thanks and see you agains, and we waved goodbye to our friend. I think we'll be staying in touch now.

And now we were travelling again. We were on the platform already when I realized that the bus tickets I'd bought to get us to the airport wouldn't cover us into town. (We're 1 1/2 zones away from the city, but only 1 from the airport.) It probably would've been okay, but it might not've. So I ran back to the ticket office to get the proper ticket. I didn't catch the price, and I didn't take note of the change I got, but I think it was about 70c each more than the bus tickets we had. But I had wasted 3Euros of my SMS credit.

Soon we had made the transfer from the local train on to a lovely fast express to Florence, stopping only at Bologna. It arrived in 7 minutes late after our 1 1/2 hour journey, which gave us only 8 minutes instead of 15 to check the platform and change to the next train. The fast train was fairly full, so it's like getting off a plane as people shuffle down the aisle with their wheelie bags, and you can't get past anyone. It's frustrating when you're in a hurry. But there were a few others going from that train to the regional one too, and we all made it in good time in the end.

A bit of Tuscany from the train

So, an hour and a quarter on a slow train through Tuscany. It's lovely scenery all the way, especially looking out to the left, where the hills are. The trees are still green, but the crops in the fields are yellowing or cut, or even ploughed over already. Over to the right, it's fairly flat, but the terrain becomes a little more undulating as we go on. Tall dark green trees, small round silver-green olive trees, and of course rows of grape vines abound.

Our destination today was the Carmucia-Cortona station, which is the one that is closest to the village of Fratticciola. Looking for accommodation for this part of the holiday, I just wanted "a week in the country" but it seemed that Tuscany was virtually the only option. Finally I gave in to the cliché, and booked this farmhouse, because it was a good price, reasonably close to a main train line, it looked pretty, and it was undeniably "in the country." (We're not here for a week, though, because when Naples entered the itinerary, something had to give, and on reflection, we thought that perhaps a whole week of sitting in a garden, eating cheese and drinking wine, could begin to pall. So we're down to three nights here.)

A couple of weeks before we left, and a couple of weeks after I made the booking, we watched for the first time the movie "Under the Tuscan Sun," and that had a very pretty town in it, which I was chuffed to see was Cortona, the town closest to our accommodation. (Please note that we are NOT here because of the movie or the book. I didn't really like the movie that much, and although I am currently reading another book by the same author, also set in Tuscany, I'm not actually enjoying it that much. She's a bit too gushy and poetic (she is a poet, after all) with no noun left unadjectivised. But I'll finish it. I can't not finish it. It would be rude.)

I am not yet clear how this works, but I think that Camucia is a separate town near Cortona, which is up a hill, and the station bears both names. There is no taxi service in Camucia, and there might as well be no bus service in Fratticciola (one bus out at 7.20am, and one bus back at 2.something pm!) There are private taxis, though, and that means you call anyone on a list of 12 or 15 drivers that the local council provides at the taxi stand and online, until you get someone who is available. Easy! When we got off the train at 2.30 today, we hadn't yet had lunch, but there was a bar next to the station who did some food. So we had a bite to eat in there, and while we were talking about how to go to the accommodation, the woman behind the counter offered to help, and she called a couple of drivers for us. It wasn't till the third call that she found someone available, and he zoomed up to the station only about 5 minutes later to drop someone off and welcome us on. It's 7km from Camucia to the village, and a narrow road all the way, that winds through fields that are mostly currently freshly-turned earth. There's lot of brown around, up close. But it's clean and tidy. And when you look out far, it's still beautiful in the natural cycle of the world.

We are downstairs, front and back of this building

Our Airbnb host was waiting to welcome us, and what a welcome we got! She and her lovely old mother acted as if we were the first guests they'd ever had, and they thought they had to treat us like family. They were wonderful. They had prepared food for us: salad, bruschetta, and wine in the fridge. The house that we are in is fabulous. I'd seen the photos online, but I didn't see how it could be that good for that price, so I was leaving a touch of skepticism in reserve, but it is totally unnecessary. One of the houses on the property has a brick dating it from 1768, and I'm sure this building is similar, whether it was a barn or a stable or a house. It has foot-thick stone walls, solid wooden doors and shutters, iron bolts and brick floors. This is what you want from a week in the country in Italy.

While we were setting in, the host, Lorella, came back, apologetic because she'd forgotten that today was Wednesday, which is the local shop's half-day, so she just realized that maybe we would have nothing for dinner. We thought that was what the bruschetta etc was for, but she'd brought more: a packet of pasta that we could cook along with tomatoes and basil from her garden, or alternatively, here were some hamburger buns (!) and jam if we'd prefer.

Tuscan lane; near Fratticciola

After a while we went out for a walk to inspect the village. For those familiar with North Canterbury,  Fratticciola is smaller than Cheviot, but bigger than Domett. I can't think of any other comparisons for other-countried people, sorry. Perhaps the fact that the tobacconist is the supermarket will help you understand. And this: we walked out to the left for perhaps 300m before coming to the "Leaving Fratticciola" sign, then we came back; the tabacchi is only about 50m from our starting point, and straight out forwards, and there's not much beyond it, so we came back; and the road to our right ran out of houses after about 150m, then there was a church. That was all, so we came back. Inspection over. The countryside is perfectly Tuscan. There was a crane building a house, there are electric wires, power poles, and pylons, but you can look between or beyond those things and know what the land has looked like for centuries.

Living room - the back added-on part of the house

We came back to the house and had dinner. We started with the bruschetta. Then we had the salad, the bulk of which was breadcrumbs damp with olive oil, and mixed through with tomatoes, basil, teeny zucchini, and I think eggplant was mentioned too. (Yes Mum, I ate it, just not the tomatoes.) I've just looked it up: this might be a dish called panzanella. Then we had the hamburger buns. They were a bit stale and dry, so I drizzled some olive oil over them and fried them lightly. (You might not want to know this, but I put some jam on some of it. It wasn't bad!) And then, Lorella had also provided us with a little pitcher of dessert wine and some biscotti (I can't remember the Italian name for it, but some of you will know it already) - very crunchy flat biscuits with nuts in, cut into lengths, which are then dipped into the wine and eaten. This was one of the best meals we've had, and (apart from the hamburger buns) the most authentic. And almost all home-made, I'm pretty sure, wine and oil included.

Since then, Stephen has spent the evening reading, and I've been writing this. There is a dog barking down the road, and a beetle came in and buzzed noisily a while ago, but they are the only sounds there have been for hours. No, there goes a car. Silence again.

Except for that bloody dog.

Bruschetta, left, and bread and tomato salad, right

Dipping biscuits in sweet wine