Traipsing around Tuscany
After last Sunday’s Indian summer for just one day – my birthday – the weather has turned decidedly autumnal. However, since we hope, before we leave Manciano, to post back to Australia all the summer clothes we brought for the Middle East, as well as miscellaneous books and other items we no longer need, this turn in the weather is really quite convenient.
On Wednesday we drove up to the pretty town of Montepulciano (about 2½ hrs from here) where a childhood friend of Boak’s from Double Bay has lived with her artist husband for 20 years.
On the way, we stopped for a coffee in the main square of Orvieto, another picturesque hill town which has a cathedral with the most stunning façade. As we negotiated narrower and narrower streets and passed parking area after parking area, hoping for something closer to the centre, suddenly we found ourselves in the large open square right outside the Duomo, tourists lining up for photos of the building, and our car right in the middle where it definitely should not have been! We parked in the square anyway - we think there was a sign that said something about authorized parking only, but decided to use a little Italian bravado and throw our hands up pleading total ignorance if approached. This ploy turned out not to have been necessary, and after a coffee and a photo session with the Duomo’s amazing façade we were on our way north to Montepulciano on the superfast motorway.
Montepulciano is situated at a very high altitude, another of those picturesque hilltowns built on rock, where the sheer drop must have afforded wonderful protection from attackers, and approached today by a winding road climbing up the hill. By the time we reached the car park it was raining, low cloud had settled over the area, and a bone-chilling cold seeped through our jackets.
Janet and Ken’s tiny 15th century house, perched on the precipice, would have been delightful on any day, but its oak beamed ceilings, crowded bookshelves, walls hung with Ken’s watercolour paintings, aroma of fresh pasta, and table laid for lunch near a window overlooking the misty valley, gave it a warmth that was far more than that afforded by the central heating.
We talked and talked and laughed and laughed, and when the last of the tiramisu had been eaten and we eventually rose from this long lunch, during which Boak and Janet caught up on around 40 years of news and we all enjoyed the local wine, it was around 5pm and the mist/cloud had moved in closer. There was no way we were driving back to Manciano that night.
This possibility had occurred to us, so we had packed an overnight bag. We drove on and found a hotel room in Siena, overpriced, cramped, and very cold, with a bathroom where the shower hung almost directly over the toilet. Its advantage was that it was in easy walking distance from the Campo, a pretty sight at night when the day trippers have gone home. We were glad of a dry roof over our heads as the rain fell steadily throughout the night – even if I felt so cold I had to sleep fully clothed with my scarf around my neck!
Yesterday we drove home from Siena via Grosseto, completing a big loop, because that was the day Dr Menchetti at the Grosseto Hospital wanted me to return so she could check my phlebitis-afflicted arm.
I think Boak and I are in agreement that we never want to visit Grosseto again! For a start it’s built on the flat and, apart from some kind of fort in the middle, lacks historical buildings and is totally devoid of charm. Fortunately the Hospital is on the outskirts, and we turned up at the Pronto Socourso (Emergency Dept) a little early, hoping to see any old doctor and be on our way. No, we were told, we must come back at 2pm and see Dr Sandra Menchetti herself. We foolishly decided to by-pass the Hospital’s coffee shop for lunch and go in search of something with a little more character in the centre of Grosseto.
The difficulty we found just getting out of the hospital car park at 2am last week we now know is typical of Grosseto. It’s all one-way streets, designed to ensnare you into the dullest part of a very dull town and not to let you leave. So, after a very indifferent lunch in a workmen’s café (most of Grosseto being closed for siesta), we found ourselves driving round and round following the occasional “ospedale” sign, but passing the same ugly billboard advertising chocolate biscuits and getting no closer to the Hospital at all! We’d probably still be there in Grosseto’s own version of the Bermuda Triangle if we hadn’t thrown caution to the wind and made an illegal turn.
Back at the hospital at the appointed time, I again flashed my report from the previous week to the triage nurse who snatched it and triaged me to second lowest in urgency. Boak went off for a coffee, and I was just settling in for a long wait and some people-watching when a different doctor called me. We had a brief consultation, mostly in Italian, during which I had to explain all over again about the phlebitis in my arm, and its cause – he didn’t have the report the nurse had taken from me! However, having obtained the “all clear” from him, I bounced out ready to be on my way. Just needed to retrieve that report – but this was not so easily done!
The triage nurse seemed unaware that I’d already seen a doctor, and thought I was trying to queue-jump. She said (in Italian) my file was inside and Dr Menchetti would give it back when she was ready! Eventually a kindly, gentle young woman, whose father was ill in Pronto Succorso, volunteered to explain my predicament to the nurse, who replied that Dr Menchetti herself wanted to see me before I could escape, but that, since there was now a real emergency (3 ambulances and 2 police cars had just screeched to a halt outside) this could take some time. Hmmph….
Well, the wait was an unexpectedly short one again, and we waltzed out the front doors of Grosseto Hospital in a little under 2 hours (an improvement on the 6 hours last week!) with my report in hand, and were back at Manciano in time to take photos of the magnificent sunset.
After a meal of ravioli and mushroom sauce (expertly prepared by Boak), washed down with a mellow red, a hot shower and a comfy warm bed was heavenly! I curled up with Isabella Dusi’s book “Bel Vino” (about the nearby village of Montalcino) which Liccy has lent me, and was soon dreaming of wild boars, olive oil, truffles and porcini mushrooms……
On Wednesday we drove up to the pretty town of Montepulciano (about 2½ hrs from here) where a childhood friend of Boak’s from Double Bay has lived with her artist husband for 20 years.
On the way, we stopped for a coffee in the main square of Orvieto, another picturesque hill town which has a cathedral with the most stunning façade. As we negotiated narrower and narrower streets and passed parking area after parking area, hoping for something closer to the centre, suddenly we found ourselves in the large open square right outside the Duomo, tourists lining up for photos of the building, and our car right in the middle where it definitely should not have been! We parked in the square anyway - we think there was a sign that said something about authorized parking only, but decided to use a little Italian bravado and throw our hands up pleading total ignorance if approached. This ploy turned out not to have been necessary, and after a coffee and a photo session with the Duomo’s amazing façade we were on our way north to Montepulciano on the superfast motorway.
Montepulciano is situated at a very high altitude, another of those picturesque hilltowns built on rock, where the sheer drop must have afforded wonderful protection from attackers, and approached today by a winding road climbing up the hill. By the time we reached the car park it was raining, low cloud had settled over the area, and a bone-chilling cold seeped through our jackets.
Janet and Ken’s tiny 15th century house, perched on the precipice, would have been delightful on any day, but its oak beamed ceilings, crowded bookshelves, walls hung with Ken’s watercolour paintings, aroma of fresh pasta, and table laid for lunch near a window overlooking the misty valley, gave it a warmth that was far more than that afforded by the central heating.
We talked and talked and laughed and laughed, and when the last of the tiramisu had been eaten and we eventually rose from this long lunch, during which Boak and Janet caught up on around 40 years of news and we all enjoyed the local wine, it was around 5pm and the mist/cloud had moved in closer. There was no way we were driving back to Manciano that night.
This possibility had occurred to us, so we had packed an overnight bag. We drove on and found a hotel room in Siena, overpriced, cramped, and very cold, with a bathroom where the shower hung almost directly over the toilet. Its advantage was that it was in easy walking distance from the Campo, a pretty sight at night when the day trippers have gone home. We were glad of a dry roof over our heads as the rain fell steadily throughout the night – even if I felt so cold I had to sleep fully clothed with my scarf around my neck!
Yesterday we drove home from Siena via Grosseto, completing a big loop, because that was the day Dr Menchetti at the Grosseto Hospital wanted me to return so she could check my phlebitis-afflicted arm.
I think Boak and I are in agreement that we never want to visit Grosseto again! For a start it’s built on the flat and, apart from some kind of fort in the middle, lacks historical buildings and is totally devoid of charm. Fortunately the Hospital is on the outskirts, and we turned up at the Pronto Socourso (Emergency Dept) a little early, hoping to see any old doctor and be on our way. No, we were told, we must come back at 2pm and see Dr Sandra Menchetti herself. We foolishly decided to by-pass the Hospital’s coffee shop for lunch and go in search of something with a little more character in the centre of Grosseto.
The difficulty we found just getting out of the hospital car park at 2am last week we now know is typical of Grosseto. It’s all one-way streets, designed to ensnare you into the dullest part of a very dull town and not to let you leave. So, after a very indifferent lunch in a workmen’s café (most of Grosseto being closed for siesta), we found ourselves driving round and round following the occasional “ospedale” sign, but passing the same ugly billboard advertising chocolate biscuits and getting no closer to the Hospital at all! We’d probably still be there in Grosseto’s own version of the Bermuda Triangle if we hadn’t thrown caution to the wind and made an illegal turn.
Back at the hospital at the appointed time, I again flashed my report from the previous week to the triage nurse who snatched it and triaged me to second lowest in urgency. Boak went off for a coffee, and I was just settling in for a long wait and some people-watching when a different doctor called me. We had a brief consultation, mostly in Italian, during which I had to explain all over again about the phlebitis in my arm, and its cause – he didn’t have the report the nurse had taken from me! However, having obtained the “all clear” from him, I bounced out ready to be on my way. Just needed to retrieve that report – but this was not so easily done!
The triage nurse seemed unaware that I’d already seen a doctor, and thought I was trying to queue-jump. She said (in Italian) my file was inside and Dr Menchetti would give it back when she was ready! Eventually a kindly, gentle young woman, whose father was ill in Pronto Succorso, volunteered to explain my predicament to the nurse, who replied that Dr Menchetti herself wanted to see me before I could escape, but that, since there was now a real emergency (3 ambulances and 2 police cars had just screeched to a halt outside) this could take some time. Hmmph….
Well, the wait was an unexpectedly short one again, and we waltzed out the front doors of Grosseto Hospital in a little under 2 hours (an improvement on the 6 hours last week!) with my report in hand, and were back at Manciano in time to take photos of the magnificent sunset.
After a meal of ravioli and mushroom sauce (expertly prepared by Boak), washed down with a mellow red, a hot shower and a comfy warm bed was heavenly! I curled up with Isabella Dusi’s book “Bel Vino” (about the nearby village of Montalcino) which Liccy has lent me, and was soon dreaming of wild boars, olive oil, truffles and porcini mushrooms……
posted by Di at 7:39 AM
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