Le Colline della Toscana

I have climbed the hills of Tuscany in flip-flops. Really.

What began as a search for a wine tasting in Tuscany turned into both the longest and most rewarding day of my time in Italy (pictures). But first things first...

I began my Tuscan tour in Florence with one of my best friends from high school, Ned. He is there for the semester and loving it, as well he should. It is much smaller than Rome, and easier to do on foot.

After two months of new faces, languages, and experiences, it was so nice to get to feel at home, even if it was for one day. He met me at the train station with a big hug and smile and led me through his new city to his monstrous apartment. He told me that they rarely use buses there, as the city is so accessible by foot. It is far quieter and cleaner than Rome and has its own charm. The little alleyways blend together with the buildings forming courtyard and passages. His apartment (which is across from Pitti Palace) looks over one such courtyard across which he and his friends talk to other students living in the complex (to the dismay of the Italian residents).

The entrance to the apartment was a stucco, arched hallway that was dimly lit by floor lights. There are eight boys living together in 3 or 4 rooms. Many of them were gone for their fall break by the time I arrived, but the ones I met were great guys. I got the tour of the apartment before we went out for Apertivo. This is an amazing phenomenon: you buy one drink at a bar and you are welcome to all of the food they put out. So for 9 euro, we enjoyed seafood pasta, a scrumptious tomato puree, prochiutto, cheese, bread, and excellent conversation including stories from home and abroad.

We then hit the streets. He led me down the Ponte Vecchio, which is the oldest bridge in the city that was the only bridge spared in WWII. It is now home to all of the gold stores. It literally shines in the evening. I have never seen that much gold in my life. Also along the street is the Vasari's elevated corridor, the tunnel used by the Medici family to get from the Pitti Palace to the Uffizi. Those Medicis were something else. (As Ned's professor told him, "ciao ciao, Medici, ciao ciao!")

We walked along L'Arno and checked out the massive structure that is Il Duomo. We also looked at the gold doors across from Santa Maria del Fiore. One of the Medici's held a competition for the design of the door panels. The architect who lost went on to design Il Duomo. Not too shabby.

We then saw Piazza della Signoria and Bartolomeo Ammanati's Fountain of Neptune that is fed by a still functional Roman aqueduct. This was followed by a stroll by the Bargello in the art district. We ended our night with Ned's friends at a bar and went to sleep so that he could get some rest before heading to Amsterdam for his fall break in the morning.

Early the next morning, I enjoyed a cappuccino and a chat with cafe owners who thought I was Italian (the hugest complement as far as I am concerned. Mostly because it means I didn't butcher their language too badly.) I then met my roommate, Ali, and began our adventure.

Our goal: Find a vineyard, do a wine tasting, and ship wine to her family. We had researched vineyards and found one that we could get to from Florence. It sounded reasonable enough....

Step 1: Buy a ticket at a Florence Tabacchi store and get lost trying to find the bus station that is around the corner, but tucked under a building and thus, difficult to find. We must have asked 4 people.

Step 2: Take said bus to Poggibonsi. Get off

Step 3: (Or so we thought) Follow directions that tell you to cross the street and wait for the next bus. Wrong.

What we found out after waiting for an hour (thinking there was only one bus per hour), is that you actually have to walk across the street, over a bridge, through a tunnel, down a hill and to a bus station. THEN get on the bus to Siena.

Step 4: Get off at San Gimignano and walk up the hill. (It was here that we took a lunch break and enjoyed Stortellata, a regional food that looks like a casserole, but is lasagna noodles, spinach, and ricotta. YUM.) Go up the hill to the town center, cross the garden, and start walking down the path next to the police station.

Step 5: Do not freak out when the pavement ends, the path keeps going, and you become engulfed by vineyards. Keep walking.

and walking.

and walking.

We walked for an hour up a Tuscan hill before finding one of the vineyards on our list. We were laughed at by three groups of workers on the way up. I guess they are not used to seeing two college girls with bags, flip-flops, and a whole lot of determination climbing up their hill. When we reached the vineyard, they told us that they could not do a tasting with us that day and that we should just climb back up on Monday. Well, that would be just lovely if we weren't leaving that night and if we had una macchina to take us back up the hill. But as we had neither the time, nor the resources to return, we continued our ascent.

After the next half mile, it all paid off.

We were met by a worker, who brought out his boss, the co-owner of the company (the main owner being his wife). Sergio was both the cutest and most kind man we have met. He smiled as he showed us the process of compressing the grapes, filtering the white wine, allowing it to sit in barrels and bottling it. He explained the importance of temperature in making wine. The barn is temperature controlled, especially as the days get cooler.

He then led us in to the tasting room that looked like a family-style table with a hutch of glasses. Between his broken English, and my broken Italian, we had a great conversation about school, his life and career, and the process of making both wine and olive oil. He even answered some of our questions about social tendencies, and the clarity of what we say.

He told us that it takes four years to even grow enough grapes for a round of wine; it takes eight years to begin to make olive oil. He and his wife had been running the business for forty years. He and his wife, Maria Elisabetta Fagiuoli, distribute their Montenidoli wine throughout the world, however, as a smaller company, 40% of their sales are within Italy.

The three of us sat at the large wooden table (presumably hand made) and tasted a rosé, three whites, and a red as the sun set over the hills.

He showed us his house that dates back to the 12th century and smiled as we took pictures from his roof. They were even kind enough to offer us a ride down the hill. This greatly accelerated our trip home, as it would have taken twice as long to get down in the dark with three cases of wine. He took a picture with us and smiled, telling us that we were strong girls, not in the physical sense, but within.

He didn't charge us for the tasting and told us that he doesn't advertise the vineyard along the path, as he doesn't want a lot of tourists to find them. He said, "If you want to come, you will find us. We will be here." And that is exactly what we had done.