adventure

Rome – the End or the Beginning?

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I’m writing this in December 2025, and am only just now finishing up the events of our 2023 sabbatical. I never dreamed it would take two years to write up six months of travel…and I promise that FromSwamptoSummit will become more timely. Transporting us back to November 2023….

We had two days left in Rome and much more than two days worth of things to see and do.

Of course, a trip to the Vatican Museum was essential. We woke up very early to arrive for an 8 a.m. tour, which was the only slot available. We took a taxi – Rome is the only city in which we used taxis. We arrived way too early, only to be totally ripped off by buying double coffees at the cafe across the street, but I needed the caffeine.

The Vatican Museum is a trip. The building itself is comprised of room after room of frescos, topped off, of course, by the Sistine Chapel. The ceiling depicts Michelangelo’s universe – a sea of writhing bodies, with his worldly enemies and friends inserted as characters. It is a sea of movement. No photography permitted…hence, no images here.

Other rooms house ancient statutes and the spoils of the papacy. There’s a dearth of depictions of women, except for the idealized Virgin and sometimes Mary Magdalene or a few other saints. After the tour ended, we stayed longer to look at the first and second century artifacts.

Finally we walked to the Piazza Risorgimento and waited to meet up with C. We managed to locate her charming turquoise mini and she gave us a tour through the lovely residential area by Vatican City. We found parking not far from Via Corso, and had a great lunch at a hole in the wall place with a 10 euro menu, then walked by the Spanish Steps, high end shopping, into the new Bulgari hotel and several ancient coffee houses. Especially notable was one of C’s favorites – the doll repair shop.

We said our farewells to C, and took our time walking back to the Airbnb. After resting, we enjoyed aperitivo across the street where they served pistachios and peanuts, and dinner at an Argentinian restaurant recommended by our Airbnb host.

Our final day in Rome – and of our six weeks in Europe – not only involved packing, but also a trip back in time to the coliseum, which we’d only briefly perused from the outside. We arrived early for our tour, only to find that I’d booked one that was conducted in Italian! But my dear friend Rick Steves once again came to the rescue and we were able to depart from our group and instead follow his guided audio tour. They are very strict about entry times and we had just enough time to buy gelato before going in.

All I can say about the Coliseum is that the bloodthirstiness of human beings is highly concerning. As Caligula said in Robert Graves’ I Claudius on Masterpiece Theater, after engaging a particularly gory murder, “Aren’t people awful?”

Random facts: Prisoners were forced to dress as historical figures who had been killed and reenact their deaths in real time. The first theatrical sets were designed at the Coliseum – sets were raised up from a basement below the floor using a pulley system. Rome originally held one million people, but in the Dark Ages, its population shrank to less than 10,000, at which point the Coliseum became used for housing, workshops, and stables, among other things.

It’s still clearly the model for current arenas, at least with regard to the layout, although hopefully not the contents. Different tiers according to social class, reserved seatings, and you could even contribute mementos for your favorite gladiator.

Afterwards we talked to the Forum and Palatine Hill, also included in our admission. I wished we’d had more time. We saw the tomb of Julius Caesar, the Curia, the temple of the Vestal Virgins, the massive three arches from Constantine (Maximum). and the palace itself – labyrinthine, dark, high arched ceilings and a road that traveled through the middle of all of it. East to imagine royal intrigue.

After, back to our Airbnb for a late lunch, a final aperol spritz, and dinner at a neighborhood spot that turned out to be very good. Roast beef, potatoes, spinach, pasta amatriciana, panne cotta.

Somehow this photo of the Baths of Neptune, 3rd Century AD at the airport sums up Rome

On November 15 we walked up to the train station, and took an express train to the airport where I successfully smuggled C’s marmalade on board in my carryon. When I wrote this in my travel journal over two years ago, we had six more hours of flying left.

Roaming in Rome with the Romans

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We started our trip to Rome from Orvieto early the morning of November 11. From the Duomo we took the shuttle bus to the funicular, and then had quite a lengthy wait at the train station, but it was sunny and nice, so not too bad.

The train was fine, with only one stop, although we didn’t get seats together. We ate our sandwiches, arrived at the Roma Terminii, and walked to the Airbnb without issue. Very sunny and lots of people, a real contrast to Orvieto.

After we got settled, we ventured out to the Coliseum, which was only two blocks away. It was a total mob scene. Souvenir hawkers, etc. You walk along a very unprepossessing graffiti-embellished street and suddenly there it is. We didn’t stay long – on the way back to our Airbnb we saw police in riot gear barricading the street and could hear the 50,000 person opposition march about Gaza approaching. We retreated to the Monti area – our Airbnb was on Via del Boschetto – lots of cafes, restaurants, small shops and the St. Louis College of Music. And a furniture upholsterer.

We had an aperitif at a nearby spot and then managed to find a taxi at a taxi rank to visit my old high school friend and partner in crime, C, and her husband. They live right by the Vatican on the other side of the Tiber. The taxi driver had absolutely no idea where he was going and ultimately consulted a paper book of maps. Not sure when I last saw one of those. Finally we just got out and walked.

We arrived a little early – their apartment has a beautiful view of St. Peter’s. We enjoyed lovely Sicilian style pasta, courtesy of C’s husband, and I later managed to smuggle the marmalade made at their country property onto the plane.

Sunday was our “free” day. We slept in and then started to wander toward Vatican City. On the way we stopped at the Trevi Fountain – it was mobbed but you could still see the beautiful sea sculptures – then along the Via Argentina where multiple Roman ruins line the roads. Every time you dig, you find something.

We walked past the Bank of Italy – with lots of large green parrots in palm trees. And passed by the gaudy and over the top huge Vitore Emmanuel monument. I can only describe it as baroque gone bad.

We finally found a lunch place where we had a nice conversation with a young Canadian couple, possibly on their honeymoon. Their rings looked very new. We bought Italian ties as gifts from a small men’s clothing store.

And I almost forgot to mention the incredible Pantheon and the accompanying Rick Steves audio tour. (No, I am not receiving kickbacks for my continuous references to my friend Rick.) The Pantheon is still definitely not Christian, despite all the efforts to make it so. I loved the open oculus at the top of the dome, and kept wondering it would be like if it rained.

We finally made our way across the Tiber to St. Peter’s Square, by mid afternoon, where we did another Rick Steves audio tour. The basilica itself is enormous. Lots of priests, monks and nuns. Michelangelo’s Pieta (behind bullet proof glass), in contrast to most of the paintings and statues that you can almost touch. We stayed around for 5 p.m. Vespers. Priests in white and purple in the choir, Monsignors with pom pom hats, bishops in purple, officiants in green, and a sole cardinal in red. A sermon in Italian where an elderly bishop (who had to be helped out in and out of the stalls) definitely nodded off. I wonder if after they all retired to happy hour and dinner afterwards? Incense, green vestments spread wide like giant wings at the altar – we were at least all given a book of the service to follow. It’s interesting to put the Reformation in the context of all this.

A very brisk walk back. That night we ate at a simple restaurant near us that had already put up its Christmas decorations. Classic Roman pasta – Amatriciana sauce (J) and carbonara (me).

Much more to see and do, and only two days left.

Orvieto – A City on a Hill

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Our six month sabbatical is now two years in the past, and it’s surely time to finish up my account There’s Orvieto to go – and then our stay in Rome. But I do have to say that writing these posts, which are almost verbatim from my travel diary is a wonderful way to revisit these places. Especially on a humid and hot Orlando day, when the thunderstorms rolled in before noon.

Once you arrive at the Orvieto train station, you buy a one euro and thirty cent ticket and take the funicular (what a great word) up the cliff to the town. From there, a shuttle bus takes you to the Duomo.

Our La Magnolia BnB (a Rick Steves recommendation) was just a half block away. We checked in and then took a preliminary stroll around town. By then it was raining. After seeking shelter back at the hotel, we had to wait until 7 for dinner – no restaurants open until then. We ended up at Ristorante I’ll Cocco, recommended by the hotel. It was a bit expensive and no one spoke any English, but it was really good. I had rabbit with herbs, and J had a chicken cacciatore with olives. There was an amazing apple cake for dessert.

After breakfast at the cafe next door, which was owned by the same family, we toured the Duomo. More Signarelli artwork – Last Judgment paintings – and a chapel housing the bloodstained cloth where the Host is supposed to have bled, thus proving the doctrine of transubstantiation.

We also went to the Cathedral and Greco museums, which were included with the Duomo ticket. Greco designed the modern doors of the Duomo and to see his nudes next door is quite a contrast.

We followed all this with the Underground Orvieto tour – entering two of the thousand plus caves located underneath the houses here, including a well that dates back to the sixth century B.C. Most of the caves are medieval – having run out of room in the town (at one point 30,000 souls lived here, now only 5,000), plus needing room for supplies when under siege (which was most of the time), the inhabitants resorted to underground caves. Pigeons turned out to be the answer to the food problem, and the caves on the side of the cliff were actually pigeon houses with nooks for nesting.

Onto a huge lunch, which featured a porcetta sandwich – slow roasted pork, with crispy skin and stuffed with liver and fennel. I was full for hours.

By then it was raining steadily. J wanted to rest, but I wanted to do the remainder of the Rick Steves tour. It took me through various squares, and at a certain point I realized I was tailing another couple who were clearly following the same guide!

I came upon the church of S. Giovenale – the couple ahead of me stuck their heads in and turned around. But I ventured all the way in. It was totally dark, except for an illuminated chapel. It’s the oldest church in Orvieto, Romanesque in style, 11th century frescoes on the walls. Supposedly a mass was to occur at 5 p.m. but I had my doubts. It made for a serene shelter from the rain.

I finished my walk, in a somewhat soggy state, and made it back to La Magnolia. J and I ended up at a very modern restaurant called Febo. And a veggie burger was a nice change after porcetta.

Orvieto was absolutely charming, and I’d go back in a heartbeat. The excitement of Rome beckoned though – as well as the end of our six weeks of travel.

Droning On About Drones

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At some point I’ll finish the last of the sabbatical posts – which will require a return to November 2023 and our stay in Rome. And I still haven’t recounted our ill-fated adventure up the highest peak in North Africa, Mount Toubkal, back in May 2024. Much less our recent backpacking trip on the Lost Coast of California.

But regardless, today’s digression is a brief journey to the wonderful world of drones. Not the male bees who lounge all day outside (or inside?) of the hive, but these small, buzzing mechanical creatures that whir overhead, seemingly spying on all below.

I’ve always found them somewhat horrifying, so I was not overly thrilled to arrive home a couple of weeks ago and find that J had taken advantage of Amazon Prime days to purchase just such a creature. His ostensible justification was that we could use it to take photos at Five Oaks, the property we are restoring up in North Carolina. Ah well. Maybe.

The next day, I returned home to find J with a woebegone look on his face. Apparently he had experimented with the creature inside our house – this was even more horrifying because the possibilities of a drone-domestic object crash seemed quite high. In any event, he’d avoided such calamities and was emboldened to take the creature outside on what seemed a perfectly still day. However, that was not true about 30 or 40 feet up – where the wind had whisked the creature off, outside the range of the controls, and it was carried off to parts unknown.

J drove around the neighborhood in a vain search for the thing, but it was nowhere to be found. Whew, I thought.

That is, until about five or so days later. Following one of the particularly heavy rainstorms that have been the hallmark of this summer in Orlando, J went out to look at our very small pond – only to find the creature sitting at the bottom (only about five inches down) – cheerily smiling up at him.

He carefully extracted it from the water, and dried it with care, blow drying it and gently wiping off the pond scum, providing it with all the creature comforts a drone could want. Oh well, I thought, the likelihood it could still work were slim.

But a couple of nights ago, just before I left for an out of town weekend, I was lying in bed and heard a whirring, buzzing noise, like the pitch of a mosquito but a bit lower in range. This was followed by the sound of several crashes, a yowling cat, but fortunately no breaking glass.

Like a phoenix, the drone had resurrected itself and was happily flying around the house, wreaking havoc and presumably recording all it was seeing. I head back to Orlando tomorrow. We’ll see what damage the creature has wrought.

Or maybe it will have decided to fly away again.

2023 Sabbatical Continues: Final Day in Cortona and Back on the Road

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Our last day at our Tuscan farmhouse (I only wish it really were ours) was slotted for an exploration of Cortona itself. It was a beautiful, sunny, and finally not so windy November day in 2023.

We started by finding the very steep, narrow, both stone and dirt paths that led up the hills to the lower part of Cortona. There weren’t many people on the street and hardly any tourists.

We finally located the famous Etruscan barrel vault, dating back to the 4th Century BC, then wandered through town, especially enjoying the public bulletin boards on which were posted funeral and other announcements. A visit to the Cathedral on the main square was next up, followed by the Church of San Francesco, which supposedly houses a relic of the Holy Cross.

Luca Signorelli was a native of Cortona, an influencer of Michelangelo, Raphael and other great Renaissance artists, and his 500th anniversary (of death? Of birth?) had just happened – hence, many festivals had apparently just been held in his honor and we saw a lot of his art throughout Cortona.

The Church of San Francesco, where Signorelli is thought to be buried, was very empty and austere. It dates back to 1247, and was started on orders of Brother Elias, a close companion of St. Francis. It is home to more relics of St. Francis – his tunic, a New Testament, and a cushion he used, all dating back 750 years. It was touching to see these, and as they supposed to have come to the church directly from his compatriot Fra. Elias, I like to believe a more genuine provenance.

After lunch at one of the few open cafes, we stopped at wine shop where the salesperson told us about the Basilica of St. Margaret at what turned out to be the top of Cortona. We walked up and up a steep stone path, designed for pilgrims, and lined with the Stations of the Cross. At least J and I didn’t do it on our knees, as they would have.

We saw even more churches along the path – the Chiesa Inferiore di S. Marco, with another ornate ceiling – and also completely empty of either pilgrims or people. We finally made it to the top, where we were awarded with amazing views.

The church itself dates back to 13th/14th century, but its typical duomo front was added much later. In keeping with the theme of the day, the only people there were J, me, and some people working on restoration of some of the walls. The ceiling was reminiscent of the church in Assisi – blue sky illuminated by stars. It appears that the body of St. Margaret is entombed right on the alter itself, which added a certain bizarreness to the entire place.

Just above the church, higher up on the hill, is a Medici fort and castle. It was closed, of course, but still interesting from the outside – very storybook like.

We made our way back down by the serene Chiesa di S. Nicole, a very small church perched behind a grassy area. It was one of the few churches we saw that was actually not open for visitors.

The next day we departed our idyllic Tuscan retreat. Time to get back on the road. We woke up early to see clouds below us in the valley and lots of ground fog, which made for quite a dramatic drive into Siena to return our rental car. After encountering a few navigational glitches, mostly due to road construction (which seemed to be the story of our entire sabbatical), we took a taxi to the train station. After a fairly long wait, we were on our way to Orvieto, our last stop before Rome.

Brother Sun and Sister Moon – A Day in Assisi

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On a cold wintry day in early November 2023 we ventured from the comfort of our Tuscan farmhouse, along the shore of Lake Trisimino and into Umbria, and through many extremely scary tunnels. We finally found the underground parking lot in Assisi, just narrowly having avoided illegally driving into the historic section of the town.

Our day started with the pre-Christian underpinnings of this very Christian town, the remains of the Roman amphitheater. But from there, it was churches, churches, and more churches.

First was the Cattedrale di San Rufino di Assisi, dedicated to the patron saint of Assisi. Very few tourists. Austere, Romanesque.

Then the Temple of Minerva, a first-century, six-columned Roman building, transformed into a church dedicated to the Virgin Mary in 1539 and renovated in Baroque style in the 17th century.

The church of San Chiaro – home of the poor Clares – was closed, but the severe structure of the building and the total lack of tourists said it all. The church of San Stefano, the simple church, was so simple there wasn’t even a way to enter it on this gray November day.

After a quick snack at a snack bar, we strolled along the streets whose store fronts weren’t the latest fashion styles, but rather the latest styles in religious vestments. J briefly toyed with the idea of religious garb for everyone.

We passed the houses of repose, clearly monastic retreats, solemn in their stone solidity, to the San Francisco Basilica. It was awe inspiring. It houses two churches, with a huge courtyard flanked with colonnades providing the entry into the lower church where St. Francis is entombed. That church contains a reliquary chapel with writings penned by St. Francis, a vaulted ceiling of stars. It is very intimate, and the few people there were using the space as a church, not just gawking at the sites. For obvious reasons, I have no photographs of the interior, just memories.

The tomb itself is a level below, in an area with a center altar, from which you take an external staircase to the upper church. On the way you pass a gigantic gift shop – while there were all manner of religious items for sale, at least they weren’t selling bits of relics or indulgences.

The upper church is Gothic, from the 1300s. Much stained glass, and an amazing series of Giotti’s frescoes depicting the life of St. Francis. There did seem to be a little propaganda in some of it, but nonetheless it was very moving. The fact there were barely any tourists enhanced the experience.

We had a long, uphill slog back to the car in the rain. The best part of the walk was a group of nuns (possibly Poor Clares?), clad in brown habits and sandals. Some had removed their head coverings, and they were in paroxysms of laughter at something they had seen in the window of a beauty salon.

The return drive was lengthy. But the spirit of St. Francis helped guide us back through those very scary tunnels.

Bumps in the Road and Farewell to a Friend

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Those of you who have followed this blog since its inception – in 2014 – have heard for a long time about the original “S” (there is a later one, associated with M) but the true original is the 2014 S. S reached out to us prior to our trip to climb Mt Elbrus, one of the Seven Summits, before we were even officially introduced to anyone else going on the trip. He’d seen that J’s email address had an .edu extension, and since he himself was a professor of agriculture at University of Alaska, he wanted to see who the heck he was going to be adventuring with in Russia’s Caucasus Mountains.

We discovered on that 2014 trip that we’d found a soul mate. J and I had already climbed Kilimanjaro (2011) and hiked Machu Piccu and the Grand Canyon (2013), but Elbrus was our first experience with ropes, crampons, and ice axes. We made tons of rookie mistakes, not the least of which was my failure to use any type of sunscreen on my lips on a bluebird summit day, and instead thinking regular chapstick that I happened to find in my coat pocket would do the trick. The third degree blisters on my mouth were a thing of wonder.

Our home at Mt. Elbrus

Through it all, S maintained his unfailing sense of humor and a collection of stories to while away the long slogs up various snow fields and saddles, as well as the ability to maneuver the intricacies of Russian air travel when flights are canceled and it appears a semi riot might break out at a regional airport following your third time of having to retrieve duffel bags off the same baggage conveyer belt.

So when we got the idea in 2017 that we really did want to climb an over 20,000 foot mountain the next year, who else would we reach out to but S. Last night I inadvertently discovered a trove of emails back and forth discussing our trip. He explained he’d talked about it with his wife and since his alternative was Everest she was all for the Stok Kangri trip.

And what a trip it was! A group of 11, only 6 of whom ended up attempting and achieving the summit, some with a lot more grace and speed than others. J and I were definitely ones without the grace or speed, but S was with us all the way to the top.

After the trip, the three of us had an extra day to tour the Red Fort, take a rickshaw to a restaurant that had been billed as a place that served the Moghul emperors but seemed to actually be a small place behind a laundromat with a sink to wash hands as you entered, and even managed to find an uber in the cacophony of live chickens, people, ancient architecture and livestock in the middle of Delhi.

I learned S had passed, at age 61, via a Facebook post last Saturday. The last we’d seen him was on our way to climb Mt. Baker in the Cascades in 2022. That mountain had been on his bucket list. Unfortunately, he had to leave the trip early because a family member had suddenly died and, in typical S fashion, he felt he needed to be with his wife and family. Nonetheless, we carried on and enjoyed spending time with another of his climbing buddies, T, whom he had cajoled into going on the trip.

I was literally just about to reach out to S to see if he had any interest in a potential Mt. Adams climb.

We had planned to go hiking last Saturday at Wekiva Springs with M and the other S. Just as we reached the entrance of the state park, there was a huge rumbling noise and it was clear we had a flat tire. Later we discovered we’d run over a brand new pair of needle nose pliers that still had a label on them. Two hours later, AAA finally showed up, changed the tire in 30 seconds flat, and we had just enough time to get home to make a dinner reservation.

That hiking trip certainly didn’t turn out as expected. And similarly I hadn’t expected to wake up that morning to find out I’d never climb with S again, at least in this life.

I’m not going to say RIP to S. Instead, Godspeed on your next adventure.

For a collection of some of our adventures with S, take a look at the following links. These are only a sampling, and it makes me happy just to read them.

The Descent- Death March on Stok Kangri, India

The Oracle and the Stok Kangri Odyssey

The Adventure of the Red Fort – Another Day in Delhi

Life in the Baksan Valley

Looking Down the Barrel

Steps on the Summit

A Wild Card Day or Summits Don’t End

Touring Tuscany and Umbria

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Our first of several days in Tuscany (that is, November 5, 2023, just to give a temporal context) was supposed to be a rest day, given that we had been traveling almost non-stop for a month. But there’s no rest for the weary, and we soon found ourselves heading toward Lake Trisimeno, which we could see in the distance from our Airbnb.

After unsuccessfully looking on the internet for any trails to hike, we simply drove in the direction of Castiglione del Lago, a charming hilltop town. There were hardly any tourists or traffic, despite a very interesting castle where we were able to have a picnic lunch. We walked through the town, enjoying the medieval vibe and the lack of crowds, and then down to the lake where we walked the perimeter for an hour or so. There were lots of cafes, but everything was closed for the season. I’m sure it’s crazy in the summer.

Enjoyed getting to cook again that night – fresh papperdelle with a vegetable sauce and artichokes.

The next day we decided to tour some of the famous hill towns of Tuscany. From Cortona we drove across the valley on some seriously narrow roads with so many vistas of Tuscany hills we kept having to stop to take photos.

Ultimately we reached Pienza. The town is atop a hill, but on a flat plateau so you avoid some of the ups and downs. It too was empty at this time of year; we managed to locate ourselves on the Rick Steves audio tour and found the main square – where the grid lines of the squares line up with the palazzos to form a “Renaissance cube.” We finally found a spot outdoors where you are allowed to eat (very strict rules about this!).

We looked into some interesting – almost stark – Romanesque churches, adorned with peeling frescos on the walls. The town itself was beautifully preserved – narrow lanes, stone buildings, and what I can only call red creeper vines.

With only a few wrong turns, we drove to Montepulciano. It’s an equally charming, but much larger, hill top town. And not crowded. We were definitely experiencing the joys of the so-called “shoulder season.” We managed to situate ourselves on the map; and visited the Parroccia Santissimo Nom di Gesu – a very ornate church whose painted 3D illusions (trompe l’oeil, to use a little French), were captivating.

The main duomo, whose facade was never actually finished, was closed and booths outside were being erected for the Christmas market, to the great interest of on lookers. . We also visited the Contucci wine caves, where J bought some very expensive wine. The family still lives in their palazzo on the main square.

I especially liked the contrades building which still posted lists of births and deaths in the neighborhood. Instead of the horse races of Siena, in Montepulciano the contrades push wine casks uphill. Incidentally, this is also the place that J saw $1000 bottles of brunello.

By now it was mid afternoon, and time to make our way back to Cortona. All the wrong turns we made were compensated for by the very expensive bottle of Contucci wine.

Under the Tuscan . . . .

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Well, I’m not sure how far I can take the title without plagiarizing, but we actually were staying in a farmhouse in an olive grove, just below the hill city of Cortona, site of Under the Tuscan Sun. But it wasn’t all sunshine – this was now November (2023) and there were a fair amount of clouds and drizzle (although nothing to rival the quasi hurricane we’d experienced as we left Florence).

We had a fairly uneventful drive from Siena to Cortona, although our AirBnb proved a little difficult to find. It was too early to check in, so we found parking and traipsed up the hill to the walled town. The Saturday market was in full swing – cheese and meats and vegetables, but lots of clothes, etc as well. It’s a charming town but still full of tourists, even in early November.

It was chilly and rainy, so we found a small lunch place where the local vegetable soup – enhanced by bread floating in the broth – was very welcome. J had a coffee and they brought over a complimentary biscuit and a bowl full of apricots and pomegranate kernels.

We managed to check into the Airbnb an hour early. It’s up a long dirt driveway that runs through an olive grove. There are a few other houses nearby but it still felt very secluded. We are on the ground floor of a stone farmhouse, and we were the very first guests to stay there.

The mother (no English) and the daughter (some English) welcomed us with a bottle of wine and olive oil that had been pressed the day before from their olive trees. It is olive harvesting season – we have seen lots of electric “shakers” that launch the olives into a net for processing. Olive trees grow like weeks here – their silver sage color is everywhere.

The Airbnb was super nice – a good kitchen, stone walls, spacious, and a TV with Netflix. Something we haven’t had for a very long time. After checking in we went to the nearby Coop grocery store – it was very large and had great produce. We stocked up – it was so nice to have a kitchen again. Prices were very reasonable – sparkling water was a whopping 24 cents.

That night, appropriately enough, we watched Under a Tuscan Sun, which was filmed in Cortona. I made braised chicken, ratatouille, and roast potatoes for dinner, capped off with cantucci and vin santo.

I could get used to this Tuscan farmhouse life.

Scenes from Siena

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Starting off the year 2025 with a return to fall 2023….and scenes from Siena.

We managed the train from Florence to Siena easily. The fact there were no changes helped. But we weren’t at all sure how to get from the train station to the actual city of Siena, which is perched on top of a hill well above the station. We had read about a series of ramps and escalators, so dutifully took several up (one of which didn’t work) – only to discover that it was school letting out time, there was no way we were going to figure out the bus system, and there was no sign of a taxi rank. 

Accordingly, we took the same lengthy series of ramps and escalators back down – and located the taxi rank on a much lower level. The very pleasant taxi driver ultimately found an open gate into the walled city and deposited us at our small hotel – the Palazzo Bulgarini. It turns out that palazzo means building, not palace, which was a little disappointing. 

No one answered the bell, so we stopped at the cafe next door where the server said she could help us out. She opened the gate, found an envelope with our names and the name of our room (Iris) on it, and showed us to our room. At least there were fewer stairs than at the Bellevue in Florence.

It was very dark, and there was a rather dank smell, but an absolutely remarkable painted barrel shaped ceiling made up for all that. Fleur de Lis and swans – there was no telling how old the place was, but we were only five minutes from the Il Campo square.

Siena is famous for its Contrades (districts) – we thought we were in the unicorn one but were never quite sure. Once a year the contrades compete in a bareback horse race around I’ll Campo and the horse that wins (with or without a rider) receives a Virgin Mary banner to wave around for the rest of the year. There are 17 contrades and I think 11 get to compete.

We settled in and then walked through the wind and rain to Il Campo to get our bearings. Il  Campo (Piazaa del Campo) is constructed of red brick with steep banks – it’s almost like a public meadow of red brick. Unbeknownst to us, storm Ciaran was hitting Florence and northern Tuscany on its way toward us and the red brick meadow was getting very wet.

We managed to shelter in one of the Il Campo cafes – we sat inside with a beautiful view of the square, nice martinis, and lovely aperitivo that they brought to us gratis. We truly couldn’t figure out why others were sitting outside in the cold. We headed back to the hotel, and found a reasonably priced restaurant on the way, where I enjoyed observing an elegantly coiffed older couple out for the evening ( her four inch high salt and pepper hair literally did not move).

Rick Steves again served as our tour guide the next day. Il Campo to the Duomo. The Duomo was one of the most remarkable churches we’ve seen – detailed floor mosaics and a Michelangelo St. Paul. Amazingly enough, we happened to be there while an organist rehearsed for his concert that night, so were able to experience the church in a musical, as well as visual way.

We exited by the unfinished wing of the church. In 1339, the citizens of Siena decided to build a new nave so they would have the biggest church in all Christendom. A lesson in hubris – the plague ended up killing off most of the population and it was never completed.

Just as we left, the skies opened. Luckily we found a cozy cafe for lunch and when it cleared up we resumed Rick’s tour. This included the oldest bank in Europe (where the concept of collateral was invented) and the Basilica Cateriniana di San Domenico. It was quite a change from the Duomo. Huge high Romanesque wood ceiling, almost stark – and St. Catherine’s head supposedly housed somewhere behind a mask in the chapel. The stained glass was modern and somehow I found the church more moving than the Duomo. This had been the home of nuns. 

We returned to the hotel and were going to try out the nearby craft beer place but the police were there shutting it down. Hmm. Instead we managed to get into a very good restaurant- J had pork chops with oranges and pistachios and I had pici with cheese, greens and sautéed vegetables. There we discovered cantucci with vin santo – biscotti that you dip into a late harvest wine. An Italian version of dunking a donut. And pane cotta with macerated berries. All under fifty euros. Wow.

We had another stormy night. The next morning, the hotel manager was actually at the hotel and was able to get us a taxi. Next thing we knew we were at the car rental place . . . And off to a farmhouse in Tuscany for a few days – where I was looking forward to an actual kitchen.