Todays photos

The walkway up to reception from the carpark where I parked my bike.

The restaurant where I had dinner last night and again tonight. It is very posh inside.

The beautiful old olive tree just outside my door. Now just an interesting point here - I have had a lot of olive oil since I have been here, but I have not seen or had one single olive in any of the meals I have eaten - either in post restaurants, or in street food in Florence, or the other little pizzeria or pasteria I have eaten at during the day. Where are all the olives?

Just a really lovely lazy day. The weather was very overcast this morning and was threatening more rain and thunder and so I opted to stay here at the hotel, and just enjoy another day of peace and quiet. My option was a 22km cycle ride to the lake, but it is Sunday and lots of things are closed on a Sunday, so rather than cycle to a place that was closed, I decided to play ladies and sit and enjoy these luxurious surroundings.
I did feel for much of the time as though I was invisible. I was sitting in the “summer house” - very posh (it has some fancy Italian name which I can't think of right now) and several people came in, both guests and staff and no-one acknowledged me. I thought to myself – what happened to me after breakfast this morning – how come no-one can see me. And then the answer came to me in the form of a text from Rodney. He warned me to keep a low profile today as the All Blacks beat Italia last night. Aha – so that's it. So I took his advice and remained invisible – that is until the good looking waiter from last night came in to clear away one of the staffs coffee cups and he offered me a drink. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh coffee. So I ordered coffee Americano – it's the best way to get a good long cup of coffee – the little espresso ones are nice, but too short. So he brings me a lovely jug full – 1 ½ cupfuls. Oh this is heaven. And the coffee was good – actually so was the cappuccino I had at breakfast time. In fact, I would go as far as to say these were the two best coffees I have had since leaving NZ. Because of course the English don't make good coffee and I must admit that most of the coffee here has only been really just okay. We are really spoilt in NZ – well perhaps we have adapted coffee to suit kiwi tastes, but I reckon you can't beat a good flat white. Strong coffee, that nice thick silky milky foam on top. Here most of the cappuccino frothy bits have been just bubbly. But this morning – good rich strong coffee with nice silky smooth foam on top. And the long black – very smooth, strong but not bitter and served in the most delicate of bone china cups.
I connected to the internet and checked out my emails, checked the train timetables from Montepulciano to Milan, and posted my news and some more photos to the blog page and then went through the last few days of photos labelling them on the computer. Not doing too bad, I've taken 445 photos on this memory card and there must be quite a few on the little card as well. I promise not to bore you all to tears with them all when I get home.
And today's anxious moment - well a funny one really - I was sitting quietly in the summer room, typing up an email, when I heard this very soft scratching noise behine me. Now anybody who knows me well will know how terrified I am of creepy crawly things and in particular of mice.And some of you will know that I will jump and squeal at the sight or sound of anything that looks remotely like a mouse (don't I Wayne?) So, I sat rigidly still and carefully looked over my left shoulder to see a lizard sitting on the back of the sofa looking at me. That's okay I thought, they are much more scared of me than I am of them, so I kept as still as I could while reaching carefully for my camera, but these little creatures must have an accute sense of hearing, or sight or both and he detected my slight movement and darted down between the cushions, and all I could hear was the rustling as he wriggled through and down onto the floor. Now I must admit to lifting my feet up off the ground here, because although not frightened of him, I certainly didn't want to let out one of my squeals if he just happened to scramble over my feet in his bid to get out the door and back into the garden where he belonged.
But another photo opportunity of these little critters gone in a flash. I sit quietly in the garden waiting for another chance to get a picture up close, but as I say they detect the slightest movement and they are gone in a flash. Even if I do manage to have the camera ready when they appear by the time I have pushed the button they have disappeared already and I get a lovely picture of a blank wall or cobblestone. Ah, thank goodness for digital cameras and you can delete the dud photos and not have to get them developed like in the “old days”
Oh dear, how did we ever survive in the “old days?” I was reading some comments in the Fodors Travel Blog this morning about teenagers travelling around now, and how their parents are in touch with them by email and cell phone almost constantly and worrying about them and their dodgy accommodation etc, and the comments back from more seasoned travellers and those like myself who travelled in the 70's and were out of communication in dodgy places like Pakistan and Iran for days and weeks on end. Oh my how things have changed. I wonder if for the better or not?
And another Oh dear – the lovely suntan I acquired in my days in the Veneto is all flaking off and fading. Now instead of being a lovely healthy looking brown I now just look a dirty brownish colour. Hope I get some more real sun before I leave the area. I at least want to come home looking healthy and tanned!!
Breakfast this morning was a real posh affair – this huge long table full of food to help yourself to. There were individual packages of cereal – Kellogs muesli or corn flakes – peaches or prunes, pottles of yoghurt or a big bowl of homemade plain yoghurt. There was a huge dish of sliced fruits – oranges, peaches, kiwifruit, as well as blueberries, blackberries and melon.
Then there was the traditional slices of ham, cheese, proscuitto and salami, and on another table there were whole cheeses and salamis to cut for yourself. There was a huge big basket of bread to go with this, and back on the other long table there were croissants, both plain and sweet (all dusted with icing sugar) and dainty little sandwiches and tiny dainty little filled rolls. And there were those packaged crispy little pieces of bread which I have not tried as yet, and there were fruit flans and cakes – too many to even try listing here. What a spread. Such a choice for breakfast, and I still can't get used to eating cake for at that time of day.. And as I have already talked about, the cappuccino which was fabulous.
Now, at 4.30 in the afternoon the effects of my breakfast have warn off, and as I have only had the coffee mid-morning (and a few plums I pinched off the tree) I am going to be well and truly ready for dinner tonight. .
The promised rain and thunder didn't arrive, just a few specks of rain when I was out walking in the garden. And so tomorrow – my final ride back to Montepulciano. I know have the rest of the afternoon to decide where to from there. Alan will drive me the following morning to catch the train to wherever I am wanting to go. The original plan was to go to Pisa and La Spezia, but then when I got those photos of my dad in Milan, then that place became an obvious choice. But, and there's always a but, when in Vicenza I got a brochure for a place I would really love to visit, further north in a place called Asiago, and so now I am trying to work out how to fit all of that into four days and be in Geneva by Friday afternoon. Whichever way I go, I have lots of train changes. Nothing is in a straight line from Montepulciano (or at least the closest station which is Chiusi). So, I will go back onto the internet and check out Asiago and see if I can work out exactly how far from Milano it is and how to get from Asiago to Genevra. It is so exciting to have so many choices.
Catch you all later.
Ciao.

p.s. I have just had dinner - another amazing meal topped off tonight with dessert which i asked for tonight. And i ordered crepes suzette. Wow - what a dessert. And tonight I got offered coffee!!!! Strange country. Most nights I don't get offered coffee. Still I must remember, the definition of a lousy tourist - the person who goes to a foreign country and expects everything to be the same as home.

Ciao again.

Cortona to Petrignano

Looking out over the olive groves, with thunder clouds in the distance. I'm heading that way!!!

The very welcome bed waiting for me when I arrived. Such a beautiful old building 14C I believe. Fabulously furnished with antique furniture.

Those thunder clouds are getting darker, and closer, and the thunder is more constant and louder.

Crossing the border from Tuscany to Umbria. Maybe I won't get the rain after all.!!?? Yeah right.

Just one of the cute little vege gardens I cycle past every day.

Well you know what they say about the “best laid plans of mice and men” well it applies to women as well. I got up nice and early with the intention of doing the 51 km ride today. I was feeling great and the day looked pretty much okay, although I knew that rain and thunder was forecast again for later on this afternoon. But I thought if I got away early enough I would hopefully be at the next hotel before the rain started.
Oh Heather what a dreamer you are. Hiccup number one – got talking at breakfast so instead of having my coffee in the lounge while sending my blog and checking my emails and trying to skye Roxy and Rowan, I was still in the dining room.
Hiccup number two – last night the receptionist reminded me (at 8.30pm just as I was going over to the restaurant for dinner that I needed to pay for my cooking class in cash. Well I didn't think too much about that as I assumed she just meant I had to pay for it as an extra and that it wasn't included in the price of the room and meals and just said “si grazie” and went off for dinner. Well this morning when I went to pay for my wine and my cooking class etc, they really did want real cash. I couldn't pay for it with my “travel card” Oh darn, I didn't have enough euros on me. I had tried to get some more out of the bancomat in Cortona yesterday, but my transaction was declined. That sometimes happens, so I didn't panic at the time, because when I made a purchase in a shop the card worked perfectly fine. (and Roxy you will be pleased to hear that I bought a ceramic “c” to go on the wall at my front door. Had to buy the numbers separately so to have 120c would have been too big so just went with the letter )
So I have to cycle 5 minutes up the road to the bancomat at the Co-op. So off I head on the main road, to a shopping centre, a bit like any shopping centre in NZ, ( a supermarket, a hairdresser, a shoe shop, a tobacconist, a dress shop, etc) with the bancomat (that's the ATM machine). Well, yep you guessed it, my bleeding card didn't work in this one either. So this is where the anxious moment for the day happened. Oh hell, what to do now. This big flash hotel won't let me use my card, I have no money, but more importantly why won't my card work. There should still be heaps of money in it. I have been carefully documenting everything I spend, because I know I can't ask the machine for a balance. And the travel card is in Euros so I can keep tabs on it without always having to convert it, so what the hell is the problem.
So I try to ring Allan, he will be probably on his way to collect my suitcase, so he should know where I can go to find a real bank. But, he's not answering his phone. So I cycle back to the hotel, where the lovely lady Christina says she will take what cash I have and will put the rest on my card. I didn't like that solution very much because it left me no cash at all for the day. So we opted to ring Allan again, and this time he answered the phone and told me to wait where I was, he was only fifteen minutes away. He took me to a another bancomat which was outside a bank so if I had a problem with the machine I could hopefully sort the problem out inside. He said he often has problems like this, and at one stage, his bank had declined his transactions because his card was being used in Italy – just a security measure even though he had informed his bank that he was in fact living in Italy.
Luckily the card worked at this machine, so we could return to the hotel, pay my bill and get on my way. By this time of course the morning was racing on, and the threat of the thunder and lightening and heavy rain was still very real. So Allan suggested, and I might add I readily accepted his offer, to be driven up the first hill to get the views from Cortona, and then he would drive me to the next wee village – Montecchio – and I could cycle from there. That would save me 10km. That sounded like a good deal to me, and he said to keep an eye on the weather and the time when it came to making the choices of the 38km or the 51km loops to Petrignano. But at that time the weather was looking good and not too hot.
So off we set in the van. Up that hill (again described as gentle) and they dropped me outside a supermarket in Montecchio. So I thought that would be a good place to buy some picnic supplies and after they drove off I went in. In the middle of this tiny wee shop, in this tiny wee village there was a cabinet with a whole roast pig in it. So I asked for a panini (sandwich) and the woman cut off great slices of this pork, rubbed each slice with the juices and spicy bits around the outside, added some of the crackling – offered me the liver or kidneys or something which I declined – and she lumped it all between a crunchy bread roll. I got a can of coke, a couple of peaches and a handful of cherries, and I was on my bike.
The ride today was mostly gentle and when I got to the spot where I had to make the choice of the short trip straight to the hotel or the longer trip, chose the longer trip. There were clouds all around and the thunder had been rumbling in the distance, but it was still sunny and warm, so I thought I had time up my sleeve. But when it came time to make the choice for the long or short trip at the next spot, I was feeling a bit anxious about the clouds and the thunder which was much closer now, and very frequent. The temperature was still warm, but I thought the best option was to get to the hotel before the rain.
I stopped to take photos of the lake, had a quick drink of water and opted to get going. The smell of the pork panini was getting too me, but I figured I needed to keep going and I could eat when I got to the hotel. At this stage I had 13km to go. So off I whizz down the hill, just as these huge raindrops started to fall. Not much at this point, but huge drops, so I decide to look for somewhere to shelter, and just as it starts to rain heavily, I see a car shed on the side of the road beside a house, with a bit of an overhang at the front which I was hoping might keep me dry. So I stop and back up to the garage door, and yes, it will keep the most of the rain off me. An man did it rain, and thunder and lightening. So I decide that I am going to be here for a while, if yesterdays storm was anything to go by, so I might as well have my lunch. So here I am, in the middle of a storm eating the most delicious pork panini. I was getting a little wet, but not too bad, and about half way through my sandwich a girl pulls up in a car, waves her hands at me, shakes her head and from that I gather this is her garage and she wants to get inside so I move out into the pouring rain while she remotely opens her shed, backs in and quikly shuts the shed door again. The miserable girl, she could have left it open so I could get out of the rain for a while, but no, not a word, not a gesture, just the door shutting behind me. So as soon as it was shut, I backed myself up against it again and tried my darndest to keep dry. At one stage the direction of the rain altered and it came straight in at me, but it quickly changed direction again, and at one stage it was actually hailing, huge great big hail stones. Here we are in the middle of summer, and it is hailing. Oh so much for a Tuscan
Summer.
The storm finally passed over and it was time to get back on the bike. I was drenched, and as I set off I was actually quite cold and dithered over whether I should change my top, but while I was deciding the sun came out, and within about ten minutes I was warm again, the road (which only minutes ago was flooded and running like a small stream) was now drying out. Within about 45 minutes I was stinking hot again.
And so I survived the thunder storm and rode on to arrive at the next hotel. And again, it is luxurious. I felt such a mess walking up to reception, and although dry by now, certainly bedraggled and splattered with mud. Oh what a sight I must have looked, and after she took my details, she showed me to my room – such a beautiful room – old fashioned, antique furniture, beautiful old pictures in gilt frames, and a window opening out on the immaculate garden.
Time for a shower, and a nana nap, before dinner at 7.30pm. And then up to the restaurant. Wow – talk about style and class and posh. Silver service dining here. The maitre d' handed me the wine menu – the book which looked like some beautiful antique manuscript weighed a bloomin ton and the bottles of wine ranged in price from E20 to 375. That must be some wine. And of course I was only wanting one glass, so I felt like a bit of a cheapskate really.
Beside each table were these pretty little footstool type things. The waiter rearranged mine to be beside where I was sitting, and I puzzled as to what this was for. Was he going to kneel in front of me while I ordered, Nope. At this stage I was the only one in the restaurant so I couldn't take a lead from anyone else. So I just puzzled over it in the meantime.
The matire d' told me I was able to have three courses, an antipasto, a first plate and a second plate, or I could order a 1st plate, 2nd plate and dessert. I told him I would go with the dessert option. I ordered ravioli, which was served with pesto. Beautifully presented, seemed a shame to eat it. And I ordered the fillet mignon. A lot of the food on this menu was seafood so I had to be very careful here. But I figured the beef was a safe option. And again that came out looking way to good to eat. It was served with zuchini and cherry tomatoes. Delicious and the steak was tender, but not as tender as the steak we used to eat at Volare in Tauranga. That one did not need a steak knife to cut it, where this one did.
And then my place was cleared, I assumed so that I could order my dessert. I waited. The people at the table next to me were given the dessert menu. I wasn't. There dessert arrived and they picked at it. (the girl had only eaten half her main course as well – they both chose the steak) and the man was offered coffee which arrived, and still I am sitting with just my now empty wine glass and my water glass which I am sipping at to look busy.
He drinks his coffee and they get up to leave, leaving their bottle of champagne pretty much untouched and both their glasses still full. Why pay all that money to order a meal and not eat it? Must have other things on their mind I guess. They are only young after all.
And still I sit. The waiters carefully skirt around me and if I look up they don't make eye contact. So I decide I'm obviously not getting dessert, and I am not going to be offered coffee so I might as well leave. Oh and by the way, the little footstools – well they are to put your handbag on. Very classy, so when I discovered this I discreetly picked my bag up from by my feet on the other side and shifted it onto the stool.
Oh and just one more thing, I think we have better table manners than all these European people. The girl at the table next door kept putting th knife in her mouth, and they hold their knife and fork funny as well.
And so back to my room. I called in at reception, because this place has wi-fi (the Headwater book is a bit out of date as I think everyone has wi-fi now) but again, I couldn't connect, I think my computer is too small and I need to be sitting closer to the main computer, so I will try again in the morning.
Starting to feel incredibly sleepy, so will shut down now.
Ciao

Friday - rest day in Cortona

Another fantastic day – each hotel just gets better, each day more memorable. The dinner last night (can't remember if I told you about it – woops short term memory loss kicking in - Oh yes I did tell you because at times I had no idea what I was eating – that's right) – well what I was going to say was, that the dinner last night confirmed that I wanted to have a cooking class here at the hotel. I had booked it before dinner, but by the time I had eaten, I knew that it was a good decision.
The option advertised was the class starting at 4pm and then eating the meal at 7.30 or 8pm but the deal they gave me was class at 11.00am and eating lunch. Wow, not sure that I need all that food for lunch, but my plan was to go walking to the top of Cortona – 4km up hill. Honest, that was the plan. Not my fault it turned to custard.
So I was very good and only ate a little breakfast, and fronted up to the restaurant to be met by the chef, Martel, who made me feel very welcome. He asked if I had enjoyed my meal last night, which he had prepared for me (because I am on a package tour I get to eat a set menu and not from the a la carte menu which looks pretty jolly good actually.) However, as I said, I was pretty happy with the choices he made for me. And I checked out what the dessert was – pistachio crème (sort of like crème caramel but with nuts instead). He was pleased to hear that I enjoyed it. So without too much ado, I was given an apron, a teatowel to tuck into my apron and a big white hat, because this was a hands on cooking lesson. Yep I actually got to do the work. It was so cool. Well actually cool is what it wasn't in the kitchen – all those stoves and ovens in fact it was jolly bloomin' hot.

I'm not going to give away too many secrets here, because I am going to try these dishes out on

you guys when I get home, but I made a salad called Panzanella, and then I made pasta – pici – Yes I actually mixed it, kneaded it and rolled it all out by hand – and then helped prepare the vegetables for the pasta sauce.

Just watched while he cooked the duck but wow was that good,

and then helped make the chocolate mousse. Oh yummy and oh so simple. No standing for hours whipping eggs and chocolate and cream here, but it would have to be up there with some of the best mousse's I have eaten.

Then after all the preparation done, I was taken out to the terrace to seit and enjoy my meal, while the staff finished everything off. So the salad starter was served with a lot of olive oil and a little more vinegar added, (just white wine vinegar here – in fact I don't think I have seen a bottle of balsamic since I got to Tuscany). It was very different, but really nice.
The pasta – my hand made pici with tomatos garlic and basil, and I learnt the secret of creamy pasta, without using cream (but I will share that one with you when I get home).
And then duck – Now I must admit to a small amount of anxiety at eating duck slightly rare – but I figured if that is the way they serve it here at a very posh restaurant, on a daily basis, then it must be safe. Wilf I can see you cringing – but I ate it at lunch time and it is now almost 8pm and certainly no reaction as yet. Not sure how long it will take for campylobacter to hit – hopefully not on my 51km cycle ride tomorrow.

And the duck was served with roast onion. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm oh so yummy, and then to finish off the chocolate mousse. Martel had prepared the mousse last night because it needs all day to set, and he set in on top of a biscuit crumb base (like cheesecake base).
Then just as I finished my meal, Martel came out to talk to me and check that I enjoyed my meal, and talked about how all the dishes were finished off and presented. And then, a minute later the skies opened up and it poured, and thundered and lighteninged all over again. So much for “Under the Tuscan Sun.” I, along with other lunch guests, hovered under the sun umbrellas trying to keep dry, but finally had to brave the deluge and dive for the doors to the restaurant. The rain didn't let up for another hour or more, so I just sat quietly in the restaurant, enjoyed a cup of espresso and wrote some postcards (freebies from the hotel) while I waited for the rain to stop.

Finally, it started to let up a bit, enough for me to make it from the restaurant to the accommodation.The rain finally stopped at about 3.45pm and the sun came out, so I ordered a taxi and went up to Cortona. The sky still looked pretty watery, and the thought of getting caught out walking up the hill in another thunder storm didn't thrill me and so I took the easy way out going up with the loose plan of walking back down the hill. However, the road was rather treacherous, no pavements and very narrow and traffic driving in both directions, so after a couple of hours wandering around yet another hilltop medieval village, I rang for the taxi to come and pick e up again.

Now every day needs at least one anxious moment (and today I had two – first the rare duck and now the taxi.) I phoned, via cell phone the number that the taxi driver had given me. I had tried to order the return trip before I got out of the taxi but the driver said it was not possible to book, just phone.
Okay, so I made it to the outside of the village gates and was standing outside a petrol station, and I phoned, to have the call answered by a man who did not speak English. Great – thinks me. I asked for a taxi to pick me up outside the walls of Cortona, beside the petrol station - Oh hell whats the word for petrol – rack my brain - a yes – il benzina stazione. Aha, says the man at the other end, retardi quindici minuto. Okay I know what that means – a delay of 15 minutes. So I take a seat on the park bench nearby and wait.
But then comes the anxious bits. 20 minutes, 30 minutes, 40 minutes – no taxi, then suddenly I see one whizzing past and round the corner. I chase him, waving wildly – he stops thank goodness – but tells me he is not the taxi I ordered. Just wait here. Different company.
Phew, I'm starting to get really anxious now, it's getting late – well too late for me to be out all alone, thankfully it is still light, but it's now 6.30pm and I have this fear I am going to be walking down hill 4kms in the rain – it's dripping a bit now every few minutes or so. And then, suddenly, from the opposite direction comes a taxi. He apologises most profusely and says he was at the treno stazione. I thought oh darn, I got it wrong, but he said no, the treno retardo, so made him late for me. Wow, so I got it right. How clever is that.
And so now, I am about to get ready for dinner. I booked much later tonight – a table for 8.30pm. I wonder what delights Martel has put together for me tonight.
And tonight, I am watching CNN news, but the only news tonight is Michael Jackson. I have had the telly on since I came home just after 6.30pm and it is now almost 8.30pm and that has been the only topic. Is there nothing else going on in the world today?
Okay guys, it is now 6.30am in New Zealand, the day of the Tga Club ball. Thinking of you all and hoping you have a great night. Do a dance for me.
Ciao.

Rest day in Cortona

Another fantastic day – each hotel just gets better, each day more memorable. The dinner last night (can't remember if I told you about it – woops short term memory loss kicking in - Oh yes I did tell you because at times I had no idea what I was eating – that's right) – well what I was going to say was, that the dinner last night confirmed that I wanted to have a cooking class here at the hotel. I had booked it before dinner, but by the time I had eaten, I knew that it was a good decision.
The class was advertised as starting at 4pm and then eating the meal at 7.30 or 8pm but the deal they gave me was class at 11.00am and eating lunch. Wow, not sure that I need all that food for lunch, but my plan was to go walking to the top of Cortona – 4km up hill. Honest, that was the plan. Not my fault it turned to custard.
So I was very good and only ate a little breakfast, and fronted up to the restaurant to be met by the chef, Martel, who made me feel very welcome. He asked if I had enjoyed my meal last night, which he had prepared for me (because I am on a package tour I get to eat a set menu and not from the a la carte menu which looks pretty jolly good actually.) However, as I said, I was pretty happy with the choices he made for me. And I checked out what the dessert was – pistachio crème (sort of like crème caramel but with nuts instead). He was pleased to hear that I enjoyed it.
So without too much ado, I was given an apron, a teatowel to tuck into my apron and a big white hat, because this was a hands on cooking lesson. Yep I actually got to do the work. It was so cool. Well actually cool is what it wasn't in the kitchen – all those stoves and ovens in fact it was jolly bloomin' hot.
I'm not going to give away too many secrets here, because I am going to try these dishes out on you guys when I get home, but I made a salad called Panzanella, and then I made pasta – pici – Yes I actually mixed it, kneaded it and rolled it all out by hand – and then helped prepare the vegetables for the pasta sauce. Just watched while he cooked the duck but wow was that good, and then helped make the chocolate mousse. Oh yummy and oh so simple. No standing for hours whipping eggs and chocolate and cream here, but it would have to be up there with some of the best mousse's I have eaten.
Then after all the preparation done, I was taken out to the terrace to sit and enjoy my meal, while the staff finished everything off. So the salad starter was served with a lot of olive oil and a little more vinegar added, (just white wine vinegar here – in fact I don't think I have seen a bottle of balsamic since I got to Tuscany). It was very different, but really nice.
The pasta – my hand made pici with tomatos garlic and basil, and I learnt the secret of creamy pasta, without using cream (but I will share that one with you when I get home).
And then duck – Now I must admit to a small amount of anxiety at eating duck slightly rare – but I figured if that is the way they serve it here at a very posh restaurant, on a daily basis, then it must be safe. Wilf I can see you cringing – but I ate it at lunch time and it is now almost 8pm and certainly no reaction as yet. Not sure how long it will take for campylobacter to hit – hopefully not on my 51km cycle ride tomorrow.
And the duck was served with roast onion. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm oh so yummy, and then to finish off the chocolate mousse. Martel had prepared the mousse last night because it needs all day to set, and he set in on top of a biscuit crumb base (like cheesecake base).
Then just as I finished my meal, Martel came out to talk to me and check that I enjoyed my meal, and talked about how all the dishes were finished off and presented. And then, a minute later the skies opened up and it poured, and thundered and lighteninged all over again. So much for “Under the Tuscan Sun.” I, along with other lunch guests, hovered under the sun umbrellas trying to keep dry, but finally had to brave the deluge and dive for the doors to the restaurant. The rain didn't let up for another hour or more, so I just sat quietly in the restaurant, enjoyed a cup of espresso and wrote some postcards (freebies from the hotel) while I waited for the rain to stop.
Finally, it started to let up a bit, enough for me to make it from the restaurant to the accommodation.The rain finally stopped at about 3.45pm and the sun came out, so I ordered a taxi and went up to Cortona. The sky still looked pretty watery, and the thought of getting caught out walking up the hill in another thunder storm didn't thrill me and so I took the easy way out going up with the loose plan of walking back down the hill. However, the road was rather treacherous, no pavements and very narrow and traffic driving in both directions, so after a couple of hours wandering around yet another hilltop medieval village, I rang for the taxi to come and pick e up again.
Now every day needs at least one anxious moment (and today I had two – first the rare duck and now the taxi.) I phoned, via cell phone the number that the taxi driver had given me. I had tried to order the return trip before I got out of the taxi but the driver said it was not possible to book, just phone.
Okay, so I made it to the outside of the village gates and was standing outside a petrol station, and I phoned, to have the call answered by a man who did not speak English. Great – thinks me. I asked for a taxi to pick me up outside the walls of Cortona, beside the petrol station - Oh hell whats the word for petrol – rack my brain - a yes – il benzina stazione. Aha, says the man at the other end, retardi quindici minuto. Okay I know what that means – a delay of 15 minutes. So I take a seat on the park bench nearby and wait.
But then comes the anxious bits. 20 minutes, 30 minutes, 40 minutes – no taxi, then suddenly I see one whizzing past and round the corner. I chase him, waving wildly – he stops thank goodness – but tells me he is not the taxi I ordered. Just wait here. Different company.
Phew, I'm starting to get really anxious now, it's getting late – well too late for me to be out all alone, thankfully it is still light, but it's now 6.30pm and I have this fear I am going to be walking down hill 4kms in the rain – it's dripping a bit now every few minutes or so. And then, suddenly, from the opposite direction comes a taxi. He apologises most profusely and says he was at the treno stazione. I thought oh darn, I got it wrong, but he said no, the treno retardo, so made him late for me. Wow, so I got it right. How clever is that.
And so now, I am about to get ready for dinner. I booked much later tonight – a table for 8.30pm. I wonder what delights Martel has put together for me tonight.
And tonight, I am watching CNN news, but the only news tonight is Michael Jackson. I have had the telly on since I came home just after 6.30pm and it is now almost 8.30pm and that has been the only topic. Is there nothing else going on in the world today?
Okay guys, it is now 6.30am in New Zealand, the day of the Tga Club ball. Thinking of you all and hoping you have a great night. Do a dance for me.
And since I wrote all that last night before going to sleep, I have been woken by this awful noise coming from the other side of the room – I wake suddenly and think – what the hell is that noise and then I realise it is one of the ring tones on my phone. Yep, it was Rowan ringing. Sorry about the time Mum he says, I guess it's the middle of the night. Yes, it was, it was 3am. But so great to talk to him.
And now it is time to get up and get started. Breakfast, post this before I leave and today I will start out before it gets too hot. The longest ride today, but hopefully not too strenuous. I have turned CNN on again but still there are only two items of news today – Michael Jackson and the situation in Iran.
Ciao.

Thursday MF to Cortona

It was just so pleasant and peaceful sitting out there under the tree for breakfast, I really didn't want to leave Montefollonico. I was quietly reading, still had about 30 pages to go to finish the book, when the Headwater van pulled up to collect my case. Wow, either I am very late or they are very early, but it was nice to see them. We talked for ages, and I finally got away from La Chuisa at about 11am, having not finished the book, but taking it with me with the promise that I would give it to Vicky (or the Headwater Reps) to return it to Room 103 in a couple of days time.

And so onto my trusty cycle. By now it was starting to get quite warm, although there were a lot of clouds and it was quite cool when the sun disappeared behind them.

The notes say 36km today, and just a straight ride, no extras, no alternative routes. And the notes say, and I quote “the day starts with a descent down a panoramic road, followed by a wonderful ridge road above Torrita di Siena. Then it is on through vineyards and olive groves and through small Tuscan hamlets across the flat Chiana valley before a modest climb to Farneta and then on towards Cortona.”

And well, that pretty much was what it was. Not such a hard ride today, although I found it quite hot today, and by about the 25th kilometre I was starting to question myself. What the hell was I doing here, riding a bike in the middle of the day. You see you ride for miles and miles and don't see a soul. Now that part is fine, I can cope with being on my own, but there is very little of evidence of life in these little places. Today, I rode through three villages, Pannellina, Farneta and Fratticiiola, and there was nothing there – oh a few houses, some nice front yards, but no shops, no people. The houses all had their shutters closed, and there was nobody about. Some of the houses had washing hanging out, so some evidence that somebody lived there, but that was it. I got passed by about four cars all day. I cannot for the life of me, fathom out what they do all day, or where they hide.
In the distance as I was going up the hill on the early part of the trip (yep a climb for 700 metres – seemed more like 7 k, and the notes didn't describe it as gentle or mild or steep – this time just a climb) I heard bells in the distance. No not church bells, another kind of bell, and so I stopped to look around and saw that it was a flock of sheep (oh dear, brain dead – do we say flock, or do we say herd – can't think – but you will know what I mean ).

Now there is another puzzling thing – there are very few animals around here – and for the amount of cheese that these people eat then there has to be cows, buffalo and sheep around here somewhere. The little flock of sheep wouldn't give enough milk to make the amount of cheese I have seen. Well maybe sheep give a lot more milk than cows???? But then I had cows milk cheese at dinner last night and I haven't seen a single cow, so where did that milk come from?
There is some evidence of some animals having been on the road, theres poo on the road this morning but I can't see any animals, or hear any, and I can't work out what animals have been here, it's not cow poo and it doesn't look like sheep droppings either (unless different kind of cows and sheep have different kind of poop to what they do at home – wow really interesting topic of conversation today but I am intrigued).

There was only one anxious moment today – Was I Lost? I had no idea. I changed the memory card in my phone and turned on the GPS just to discover that I was standing on a cross road exactly as the sign said, and I was absolutely in the middle of nowhere with nothing else around. Well thanks a lot GPS, I already had figured that one out. What I want from you is some kind of sign that I am not in fact LOST. Oh dear. Back to the notes. Farneta to Fraticolla (8km) Well that sounded easy enough. The next bit said “stay on the road through the village and, at a junction, turn left signed 'Fiona della Chiana'. (so far so good) You wind downhill for about a kilometre. At the bottom of the hill you pass a sign for a stream “reglia di Paterno” and immediately after it, turn right onto a strada bianca signed “Il Falco'” (again so far so good) You pass under a bridge, fork right and shortly afterwards turn right signed Creti. Keep going for a kilometre to a T-Junction, where there is a small stature of the Madonna on the right.”

Okay you say, that sounds clear enough. Well how far is a bloody kilometre. This particular kilometre seemed to go on for ages. When I thought I had already done at least 2k I stopped and had some fruit and a drink. And re-read my notes just to make sure I hadn't missed a line in the instructions. This kilometre is taking a long time. Should have timed it – but I don't wear a watch, and to read the time on the phone I have to stop, get my glasses out of my pannier and then pack them back up again, so I go without the time. (Big mistake – when I do this again I will bring two things with me – a watch and a speedometer so I know how far I have really gone)

Well I know I haven't passed anything or missed any turnings, so I continue on, and oh hell here's a “Gentle slope” nothing about that in the notes, and here's a bit of a cross road, but nothing in the notes about the hotel on the right , and by now I am off the strada bianca and the road is sealed again. Nothing about that in the notes either. But where the hell is this statue of Madonna I am supposed to be seeing.
And this was where I consulted the GPS, but because I could see what I thought was Cortona in the general direction I was headed, I figured I would just carry on on this road. Well that was a good decision, because soon I came to another cross road. And wow, here is the Madonna – well she was back off the road a bit, but hey, what is this. Back to my notes.
The notes say “turn left and immediately go around to the right. From the panoramic road you can see Cortona on the hillside to the right in the distance. At the next junction (where there is an arched gate with a a lantern on top) turn right and then cross the railway line. After a further 3k you enter the hamlet of Fratticiola.”

Ha, I turned left at the Madonna but there is no immediate right turn. So I go back and talk to the Madonna. I re-read my notes. And then I see the arched gate with the lantern – it is the gate you go through to get to the Madonna and it is right here on this corner – so I turn right here and about 800 metres further on, I pass over top of the railway line. Phew – on the right track.
This is the only time I have doubts really – when what I am reading on the notes doesn't match up with what I think I am doing. It's really the distance thing. I have no idea how far a kilometre is. I try to work it out as I am cycling along. It was 4.8km from my place to Freedom. Just over a a kilometre to Gate Pa. So I try to match it up with how long it felt like at home, but then I was riding downhill on a tarseal road at home, and here is mostly uphill (well those are the bits I get most confused on because usually the downhill instructions say to get to the bottom of the hill - that's easy) and on strada bianca, and todays strada bianca is quite rough.
Anyway I made it – another 38 km I can notch up. And I arrive at Meloni del Sodo and ride in the very grand entrance to the Hotel, Borgo il Melone. Thats another one you can check out on the internet on http://www.ilmelone.it/

I had commented this morning to Alan and Linda about La Chuisa being luxurious and they said wait till you see the next stop. And wow, luxury once again. It is quite embarrassing – I come up this immaculately manicured drive, past the immaculately manicured trees and lawns and gardens, to this luxurious entrance to the hotel – the receptionist is amazingly beautiful, immaculately groomed and made up, and look at me – my padded cycle pants, my cycling shoes, a top which is now almost wringing wet and hanging limply on me, my hair all bedraggled and sticking out under my cycle helmet, and my face red and sweaty. What a sight I must look. And she looks up and says “Buona sera Madam, welcome. Your passport please.”

Oh shivers, I left my passport in my pannier. So out I trot out to my bike and bring them in. (I was only coming in to check I was in the right place, this place looks awful grand) I have only remembered once to have it in my pocket as I walk through the door. It is the first thing they ask for, and then they keep it, either for a couple of hours and give it to you when you go downstairs for dinner, or they give it to you the next morning. I am not sure what the big thing is about passports. Do hotels in New Zealand expect to see passports for overseas visitors? I don't know, and I certainly haven't ever been at a reception desk and heard a visitor being asked for their passport?
But anyway, I arrive looking an absolute mess. And then I get taken to my room. WOW, again luxurious. Huge bed, tv, minibar, air conditioning, and a view. And the bathroom – a bath which I begin to fill as I unpack my panniers and get myself sorted. My suitcase is already up here in my room.
And so I climb into the bath and soak away all my aches. My shoulders are feeling a bit tired again today, and my hands and wrists are tired as well – must be gripping the handle bars too tightly, but was braking quite a bit today as I freewheeled down the hills.

I certainly didn't expect to stay at such luxurious establishments on a cycling holiday. Doesn't quite fit with me really. Because of course all the other guests are turning up in their flash cars with designer clothes and luggage, and I struggle in with my panniers in my 'ever so appealling and count catching padded lycra pants' Thank goodness I put two good skirts in, because I have dinner twice at each hotel, so I don't turn up in the same clothes each night – because these European women are dressed up to the nines.

And so I go for dinner – by 7.30pm I am starving and have to really control myself not to scoff all the bread before my meal comes. And the menu: First of all they brought out a drink – didn't catch the whole explanation but something about fresh pineapple juice and I think he said Campari. Whatever, it was quite tasty.

And then out came “Something on a spoon” what the hell is it, and what the heck do I do with it. Eat it I suppose, but how. Off the spoon, with my fork (which looks way to big to deal with this little bit of whatever, decorated with some green stuff on one side that could be pesto, and some other browny stuff on the other – heaven knows what that might be) Its a little squarish blob of something soft. So I take my time sipping my pineapple drink and hope that the waiter brings one of these spoons of stuff to the next table so I can see what they do with it. But no such luck, so I take my chances and just eat it, with the fork and then dip some bread in the saucy stuff.
And having eaten it, I still have no idea what it was. Quite strange, and I couldn't even work out what the sauce was.
Anyway the waiter then tells me that I have the set menu and rattles off in his best English what I am going to be having and asks me to order some wine. I ask if white would be appropriate for all courses, and he agreed and I ask for just a glass of the house white, which he promptly brings to me. Its okay, but again I didn't catch the name of it. It certainly wasn't as good as last nights wine, but hell this is only about E4 and not E22 a glass.

My first course is proscuitta with melon. I really like this combination and have had it a few times now. The pasta was nice, and came with vegetables in a slightly creamy sauce but not rich – carrots, onions and zuchinni.

Then the main course – pork and salad. The pork was cooked, he said in milk, and had some cream drizzled over it. Rather nice, very tender, perhaps a little dry, but pork tends to be like that, doesn't it. Of note the salad came on the plate with the pork and was already dressed with oil and salt and pepper.
And then the dessert – again I have no idea what I was eating. It was in a little bowl, a custard type dish, very yellow ( reminded me of the seameal custard I used to eat as a kid ) with a crunchy topping, nuts, which I presume were pistachio.
But a lovely meal, nicely presented, but it would have been nice to know what I was eating.
After the meal (and of interest here in Tuscany the servings are not big servings like up in the Veneto so after four courses I haven't felt bloated, and of course it takes two hours to eat it all as well so that helps) I went for a bit of a wander around the property and took some photos of the sunset.

Linda had told me this morning about the awful weather the rest of Italy and Europe has been having, with flash floods up north, with several people being drowned in rather bizzare circumstances. One lady drowned in an elevator which had flooded (I think she said in an hotel) and another man drowned in his car when it was swamped with flood water. And a kite surfer was killed when a freak gust of wind crashed him into a building. Scary stuff – so I thought I would turn the CNN news on and see if there is anything else interesting happening in the world, but alas no, the breaking news on CNN tonight was some politician caught up in a sex scandal, and the news of Farrah Fawcett. So I turned it off and finished my book and will get myself an early night.
And the good news is that this hotel has wi-fi. It is not listed in the book as having it, so I will be able to keep in touch for the next couple of days. Don't feel so isolated if I know I can email you or skype Roxy.