Assisiiiii e me

I slept like a maiale (pig) from 10pm till 8am and got up to grab a standard caffe latte and brioche before catching the 9.30am (3,10E) bus at Piazza Parmigiani to Assisi, a hilltop town one hour away. It was extremely ventoso (windy) and un po fresco; the sky threatened to pour. The trip was quite rilassante as we passed through verdant hills and climbed the steep slopes where the looming vision of the Basilica di San Francesco came into sight. Exactly 10 years ago, Umbria was hit by serial earthquakes and the Basilica at Assisi bore the brunt of it. However it seemed to survive the damages and is now the most visited town in Umbria, especially among followers of their local hero St Francis as well as St Chiara.

I found my way easily to the first stop, the pretty Cathedrale at Piazza Rufino which led to the gorgeous Santa Chiara, a pink-white basilica with a big-arse crowded terrace piazza overlooking the scenic countryside below. I then made my way, shielding my eyes and fly-away hair from the violent wind, to the main Piazza Comune where old men chilled out with the pigeons and people-watched insieme.

Finally more cosy lanes led me to the stunning Basilica di San Francesco where I secretly took a forbidden photo inside (terribile me!). There were the Upper and Lower sections, plus the underground crypt where St Francis' tomb lay. I'm not the most religious persona but it was rather enchanting to see the devotees praying on their knees, hands clasped to his tomb while strains of monks chanting echoed in the background.

Not hungry again (imagine me!), I bought a panino and thè limone and sat by a pretty ledge to savour the views before getting restless and walked around the whole town to hunt for cats. Assisi was stupendo, each backlane was quaint like Cortona, but almost prettier. Each doorframe was decorated with blooming flower pots and I was always drawn to the ornate doorknobs and weathered frames.

I tried to shoot 3 cats but they were hard to pin down and the settings were not ideal. At this point, I seemed to have more photos of pigeons (dead and alive, si a bit morbid) as well as overhanging lamp posts. Maybe I'd change the photo exhibit to 'Cats & Pigeons' next year, hahahahaha. I was ready to go but have to wait for the bus at 5plus so I wandered around more to explore every little lane.

Anyway you must be wondering about the dinner with the guy right?? Lui si chiama Arturo (I never heard of it before), he's 35, orignally from Calabria and is in Informazioni in Medici. I asked him 'Dove andiamo?' and he suggested a pizzeria (I was screaming inside 'noooooooooo') but said 'ok, va bene' and we strolled down the breezy Corso Vannucci, talking about how our day was. I asked him to show me the Università Per Stranieri which he did and then he tried to hold my hand to which I said noooooooooo and brushed his hand away. He got the message and from then, we just hang out - like two strangers who needed desperate company.

I felt like his therapist, come Bruce Willis in the film 'Sixth Sense', while he poured his problems to me. He confided that he has a sort-of ragazza (Polish) whom he was trying to woo with a bunch of flowers and lettera he sent today - to which I told him 'che fai qui con me? Devi andare da sua ora' (what are you doing here with me? You have to go to her place now). But he said she didn't like him to go over on weekdays. He liked her but she's un po fredda (cold). I nodded thinking secretly this guy has no chance with her and advised him to 'stai tranquillo, non c'e fretta. Noi donne non ci piace fretta'. (Chill, don't rush it, we women don't like rush)

He spoke poco inglese but surprisingly I understood most of what he said - guess he must be quite patient with all the straniere (foreign girls) he used to date. Over a Margherita pizza (surprisingly not bad), he told me about his ex Indonesian girlfriend who was much younger than him and un po come bambina (childish). They had argued and she went out to sleep with another man, and he got infected cos 'non c'e protezione' and he had to go on antibiotics for 2 months (I almost choked on my birra when I finally understood what he was saying). He had slept with 20 donne and I laughed in jest 'Che bravo!'.

Apart from his love-sex life, we spoke about Italia, la vita, lavoro, ecc and that 'Perugini sono stupidi'. The funniest thing he told me was that he hates Italian ragazze cos they 'fanno poco sesso' and were mostly lesbians - to which I mocked 'No! Non ti credo'. 'è vero', he affirmed seriously. We strolled around and hang out at Piazza IX Nov till 10pm cos he had to sleep and he told me I gave him a lot of 'serenita' that night and I was molto 'intelligente' while he was 'stupido' for not speaking inglese. Hehe. That was really a funny episode, not as bad as you'd imagine. I guess he's just a harmless lonely man looking for a listening ear. Well, he found the right candidate as I had all the time in the world.

Umbria la la la

Sta mattina sono partita Spoleto per Perugia in treno e ho preso l'autobus per Piazza Italia nel centro historico. Part of me was sad to leave Spoleto - even though I didn't get a room with a view, I still got a nice room. I was lucky to reach the stazione at 9.50am on the free bus ride (I've learnt to get away with not buying a biglietto, ok shoot me) and found there was a treno to Perugia at 9.55am! And at Perugia, I found Hotel Eden easily where I got the last single room for 45E! What luck! Fortunatamente! Yipeeee!

I hugged myself in joy and ran out to see Perugia - there was a good buzz along Corso Vannucci, sicuramente piu vivace di Spoleto. It was a good mix of a modern citta and ancient town. The Frommer guidebook was very useful and in an hour, I had explored most of the city centre. My stomach was growling even though I had no appetito. Merda. I was dreading lunch perche I had to mangiare pasta o pizza!!! Arrrghhh!!!! There were too many pizzeria here, maybe to support the thriving student community. The recommended Da Cesarino ristorante seemed too turistico so I picked the nearby corner Tavern La Gabbia where I chowed down the tagiatelle al porcini (7E) and a bicchiere di vino rosso (2E) - non è male (not bad) but a bowl of chinese soup would be my saviour.

I took a nap for the first time on the trip and left the MTV on till 7pm when I had to get some fresh air. No hunger still so I walked around aimlessly and ran into the English couple (from Spoleto) whom recognised me and we had a good 10-min chat! I always seemed to meet nice retired English couples. Tired, I nursed a birra Peroni (it's actually better than Moretti) and wished for a sigaretta but went to a hotdog shop to 'tah bao' one for the night.

Just when I was nibbling it on the way back, a bookish bespectacled man with flyaway floppy hair came alongside, smiled and said 'Buon Appetito' and I said 'Grazie'.
H: 'Buono?'
Me: 'è cosi-cosi'
H: 'Di dove sei?'
Me: 'Sono di S'pore. Lei sa dove?' (I love to test them on their geography)
H: 'Si, è vicino Indonesia'
Me: 'Bravo!'
H: 'Sono italiano' (I rolled my eyes and we introduced ourselves.)
H: 'Che fai?'
Me: 'Io?' (I wanted to shoot myself for sounding stupida - who self was he asking then!) 'Sono in pubbliche relazioni'
H: 'Hai fidanzato?' (Hahaha, they always ask this question)

Anyway in just 5 mins walking to my hotel, he asked me if I want to have dinner tomorrow. I looked at him for one sec and based on my well-honed sleaze-radar, he seemed to score quite low on the scale. And let's put it this way, if a serial rapist came to chat me up, I'd have bought him a 3-course dinner - with vino too. Si, I wanted company that badly. We agreed to meet at 7.30pm domani.

Basta pasta liao

The only person I could have a relatively unstressed conversation here at Spoleto was with the kind chubby bespectacled sister at the convento. In her calm presence, I could speak comprehensibly and in return she nodded sweetly and understood tutto that I said. This morning, I woke up and decided to leave for Perugia domani because there was nothing much left for me here, so I went to pay her and collect my passaporto in case she was not sinking in her reclined worn armchair in her living room watching a religious programme on TV.

Me: Buongiorno, posso pagare adesso? Perche domani partiro molto presto per Perugia.
Sorella: Si certo. Allora vieni. Ecco, è suo?
Me: Si si, grazie. Eh, numero sei.
S: Tre notti?
Me: Si si. Quanta costa?
S: Ottanta euros (she gave me 10E disconto, so just 80E for 3 nights!). Mi dispiace che non puo avere una stanza con la vista.
Me: Non c'e problema. Tutto bene. Questa è la mia seconda volta qua e mi piace molto. é molto tranquillo e comodo. Grazie. Tornerò la prossima volta!
S: Si, ti ricordi da 2 anni. Dove andrai?
Me: Napoli e partiro da Roma.
S: Che fai?
Me: Sono in pubbliche relazioni. Ho la mia azienda a Spore.
S: Ma che brava!
Me: Grazie (beaming like the roses outside in their bella courtyard)

I did jackshit today, just wandered around the Duomo and ate pranzo at an Osteria dell'Enoteca where the waiter gave me the honourary table for single diners outside under the arco where everyone could see what I was eating. Nice. No pasta per me, grazie. I was molto malosa of the local strangozzi al tartufo which was on every menu here, instead I chomped down on the braciole di maiale (porkchop) and a much needed insalata mista (yummm vegs) washed down with a glass of Merlot (tutto costa 14E). When I was busy writing and photographing the dish, the waiter said 'Che fai? Assagia il braciole subito!' (What are you doing? Eat the porkchop now!) I left him a one euro tip.

That evening at 5.30pm, Aless gave me a personal tour of Spoleto's ancient sections away from the crowds as we nipped into small backlanes and saw the wells where they used to collect acqua. He was so formale and cordiale that it was no longer piacevole. I wondered what's up with him man? Anyway he followed up with an obligatory drive around the outskirts to San Giacomo and then back to Piazza Garibaldi per qualche cocktails at the sempre crowded local bar which I detesto.

Everyone was staring at me like I was naked - maybe they never saw an Asian in their circle before. The waitress was such a bitch and Aless knew it. In some ways italians could be quite xenophobic. Allora I had 2 prosecco and 2 sigarette before caro Alberto drove me in his mini antica Renault to his bella casa in the nearby hills. He's the sweetest and most popular guy in town for everyone would say ciao to him and vice versa. Four of us had pizza and birra outside in his garden under the stars. Era molto tranquillo e un po fresco. Tonight was my last night here and I thanked them for their kind hospitality, wondering if I'd see them again.

Rocca on in Spoleto

I woke up smiling at 10am - ahhh, so shiok to sleep till so late. Too lazy to go to Perugia today so I grabbed a caffe latte at my usual bar at Piazza del Mercato where a Chinese auntie was hawking pirated Dvds to the 2 sheepish barmen. I pretended to focus on Beyonce and Shakira shaking their booty on MTV. Feeling energetic, I climbed the steep slopes to the Rocca Alb, a medieval castello and fortress atop the hill, because I had more or less explored all of Spoleto the last time. It was really that small - I could wander around blindfolded and still not get lost.

I met an elderly English couple from Brighton and I advised them on the route around the Rocca as if I was a local guide, haha. We agreed that Americans are mostly ignorant about the world and that Firenze is our favourite citta in the world despite being overrun by tourists. At 2pm, my tummy was growling in protest but I had lost my appetito because 1) my constant companion was not here anymore! 2) I'm feeling a bit homesick and craving for a bowl of hot soup! Instead I bought a ham-cheese sandwich and bottle of tè limone and chilled in my room till 6pm. It was too hot to go out and more relaxing lying in bed with a book and listening to la musica.

At 7pm, I met Alberto per una birra at the Piazza della Libertà and he looked so pleased to see me. He looked great, well-scrubbed and as jovial as ever! We climbed up to the bar by the romano Ponte dei Torri and laughed about Dario. At 8pm, we drove to the crowded P. Garibaldi to meet up with Aless and their amici Luca and Alessandra for another tipple. Luca spoke inglese (kinda a relief for me) and was a real jolly big fellow with a worldly way, being in the military. That evening, we drove to the nearby industrial urban town Terni ('molto brutto' according to them) 25mins away, for dinner at a trendy ristorante 'Tomato'. All the other bars and ristoranti (also with English names) were packed to the tilt with hip dressy youngsters.

I reckoned these italians ate too fast, too salty, too much meat and not enough raw vegetables here. I was trying to catch up with the 4 antipasti which they wolved down with their basket of pane and was the last to finish my parrecchi (tube pasta) stuffed with crabmeat and broccoli in a pool of pomodoro salsa. As usual, they all had manzo con patate. We left at midnight and went back to Spoleto's bar for a nightcap and at that point, I felt a bit defeated as they rattled on in rapid italiano and I could capire niente lor. Sigh. Aless sent me back to the convento in his new flashy Opel 2-seater and said we'd meet up at 5pm domani after he had lunch with his mamma, wah lao eh! His only day off! And he lives with his mother lor.

Italiana practica ora

Every meal F and I had, we saluted to povero Dario, without whom we'd never come to experience Cortona, Arezzo and Firenze. We'd look back and have a good laugh and piss everytime we recall that episode. On Friday, F and I hugged and said arrivederci alla stazione di Firenze as we caught separate trains heading towards Roma. I wanted to cry as I had gotten used to her great company and now I had to fly solo! Argggh.

We had the best of time and I was glad she got to enjoy a better understanding of the Italian culture. And I've forever ingrained in her 'sinistra' (left) and 'destra' (right) and the numeri from 'zero' to 'dieci' (10). Hahaha. Plus she got to experience the stupenda ospitalità and amicizia of my italian amici including Elena, Alberto, Paolo, Iris, Gianluca and Lorenzo whom she thought were all molti simpatici!

After we parted ways, I finally arrived at Spoleto after switching trains at Orte and Alessandro was there to pick me up at the stazione at 1.15pm as promised. It was most strano to meet him again after 2 years and we've managed to stay in touch via email and sms. He didn't changed a bit, anche Spoleto which was blazing warm. It was a charming and quaint small town which I still recalled fondly. Without a mappa, I could find my way from the convento on the hilltop (where I'd be camping out for the next few days until I have decided where to go next). The kind chubby bespectacled sister said she recognised me! Davvero!?

The town was dead on this Venerdi afternoon and I took a nap after blogging and waited for Aless to finish work at 8.30pm. Allora, my italian practicum had began as lui non parla inglese at all lor - wah lao eh, jia lat man! :) But luckily I was able to perform with more wine I sipped at dinner. He surprised me with a reservation at a cosy intimate ristorante called 'Il Tempio di Gusta' (The Temple of Taste), which was more like il tempio d'amore, with all these twosomes peering over candle light in a rather dim ambience. I was trying to read the menu without burning it over the open flame.

We ordered the messy deconstructed starter (it's a bit modern-style here) of stuffed zucchini flower with fresh ricotta and culatello. With him staring tenderly at me, I couldn't finish it. Gulp. I drank more vino rosso and tried to slurp the strangozzi al tartufo nero in a ladylike manner. Very difficile lor. But it was nice to go on a real date - I hadn't done this for such a long time! That night I slept like a bebe in the convento, it always made me feel safe and secure.

Firenze di nuovo

Oggi siamo partite per Firenze, our favourite citta in the whole wide world! It's funny how each time by some twist of fato (fate) that we manage to find our way there. The last 3 times for me was not planned (I have been there 4 times!), this time courtesy of Dario, we found ourselves back at the grandest Renaissance citta and I'd see mio caro amico Lorenzo again and maybe the rest like Guiddo (The Count) who had let me stay 3 nights at his appartamento near the Boboli gardens 2 years ago. Now Lorenzo had kindly offered us his place saying 'I'm so happy to offer you hospitality!', too bad he had to give up his German sheperd Ciro when he moved back to the citta. Ciro was my constant companion on Barbialla Nuova, the sweetest dog I know.

Anyway it paid to have friends - I was kinda relieved cos I hadn't budgeted for these 2 extra weeks where I'd be at the fattoria. Ferne was leaving on Friday and I was thinking what should I do? Should I beg Lore to let me stay for a week and maybe I'd be his domestic (maid)? Or should I travel around - maybe go to Sardegna where I'd always wanted to visit? I could ask Lore for advice since it's his hometown. Oh well, I'd go with the flow. Anyway it's own time, own target!

Lore picked us up at Piazza delle Cure - he looked great in his office getup, long curls and wrinkly dreamy smiling eyes. He dropped us off at his folks' appartamento and told me to call Marco who was leaving town for Barcelona, and apologised he couldn't keep us company. I said 'Non preoccupati, sono a casa.' It's vero. I could walk around Firenze without a mappa and not get lost. We hurried to Santo Spirito (my fav local hangout) and enjoyed long twisted pasta strands con zucchine and gnocchi alla gorgonzola e rucola, toned down with cold birra Moretti. Another toast to Dario!

The waiter was suitably impressed with my italiano accento and thought we were studenti! F said when we are 40, they'd still think we are in our 20s (speriamo - we wish!) After the hearty pranzo, we went window shopping around the Duomo and San Lorenzo. The tourist mobs were mattissimi specialmente at the Duomo, Uffizi, Ponte Vecchio and Piazza Signore. I'd always remembered Marco telling me Firenze has been robbed by the tourists and it'd never progressed, stuck in time for the tourist dollar. It was a double-edged sword.

In the evening, we promised ourselves another taste of the local specialty - bistecca alla fiorentina - which we had first tried in 2000. This time, we hunted it down at Trattoria del Carmine where the flirty married young waiter sat us among 10 Japanese diners and served us our starter of spaghetti alla vongole (very flat taste). The 600g slab of bloody bistecca (26E) arrived on a board, cut up at the table. It was so tender, flavoured with just salt and pepe. On our way back to catch the bus, I recognised the trendy bar Dolce Vita where David Rocco had filmed an episode - so chic chic! Pui.

The next morning just as we thought Lore had left for work, he gave us a fright and made us jumped when he crept up quietly from his bedroom. We arranged to meet up for lunch later at a local mercato near his workplace. I had no recollection of climbing the Duomo so our first stop was there to beat the crowd. Luckily the queue was painless, just 20mins and soon we were climbing in the narrow cramped stairway to the top. I got a little claustrophobic halfway whereas F was sweating like mad.

This was a fat person's nightmare as well as the big-sized angmohs easily occupied the whole tunnel while we could squeezed past them. The vista was worth the climb and the narrow hole soon became an open space on a tight terrace where we sat down on the smooth cold marble against the vandalised columns and looked out to the bella citta on this clear blue day. A grander version of Siena, Firenze looked so surreal and tranquilla from here, best captured in sepia or black-white (can you spot me in the foto?).

We hurried down the same stairway to meet Lore at the nearby Mercato San Ambrogio where the locals frequent, away from the tourists. There was an outdoor trippa panino kiosk where David Rocco had also featured - a fast food concept where locals grab a fast cheap snack. We waited for a table at the crowded Trattoria Da Rocco (also featured in Rocco's program) and F's soft zucchine stuffed with minced meat cooked in pomodoro was easily better than my ordinario penne. Anyway I was yakking too much to eat and we were laughing so hard about Dario. Lore had worked with me before on a WWOOF farm so he could sympathise with our situation.

He returned to work on his bicycle while we popped into a pasticceria for a lovely palm-sized glazed fig custard tart and ate it by a kiosk filled with books. I also text Aless to ask if it's ok for me to show up on venerdi and he called back to say that'd be great and would pick me up alla stazione! Yipeee. We did a spot of shopping (a bag for me and Tod's for F) and F bought the most expensive gelato (8E) from this cretina ragazza who was obviously trying to rip us off.

Since this was our last evening together, we decided to splurge on food, starting at the crowded wine bar 'Le Volpi e L'uva' at Piazza dei Rossi. Lore and Marco had previously recommended this place to me and asked me to look for their amico Ciro. I spotted him easily but dared not say ciao. We sighed and lamented that we'd miss all these cheap and delicious prosecco (2,50E each only!) and the joy of snacking freely on the best proscuitto. I was quite high and full when we got our tavolo at the ever popular Trattoria La Casalinga where the boys and I dined before.

The solemn-looking waiter was quite the joker and brought us our starter of carciofio e grana. F never tried artichokes while I loved them but never had them raw. We didn't really fancy the floral stalk bouquet and fibrous cardboard texture. It was tasteless on its own but lifted slightly by the grana cheese, lemon juice, olive oil, balsamico, sale e pepe. The mains fared better although I couldn't say much for the presentation.

The coniglio al forno (7E) looked dry but the rabbit meat tasted good flavoured by rosemary and olive oil. The American couple next to us had all the safe choices (ravioli, roast chicken and tons of bread swimming in olive oil) and were staring at us as we attacked the generous plate of trippa alla fiorentina (5,50E) - pure Fear Factor for them but quite comforting for us since the thin chewy slivers were stewed in tomatoes for a long time.

By the time we were done at 10plus, we were exhausted and decided not to meet Lore for drinks. Instead we admired the Ponte Vecchio and Duomo under the silvery moonlight one last time before heading back on the 'free' bus. Firenze was all the more magical at night as the tourists retreated and you could have the bella citta to yourselves. I felt at home here and could imagine me living here.

Arezzo e Cortona

That morning when the first light hit Dario's room, we got up and grabbed our bags to the kitchen and waited for him to wake up. His wife Trudi saw us and showed us her vegetable garden not knowing we'd not be staying long. When Dario came out and saw the bags, he asked 'Tutto bene?' And I replied that I was sick (la verità) and that F couldn't sleep all night. He said 'It's better you move to another room?' F quickly said 'No it's better we go' and he got the point. We apologised profusely and luckily he was understanding and knew he made a mistake by putting us up at his pighole. Perhaps he had been so alone all this time that he didn't realise the sorry state of his casa. I felt bad for him but F was right, it was best we leave subito! We'd not be able to put up with the toilet from hell!

After he dropped us off at the stazione, F and I hugged in joy and jumped onto a treno per Arezzo, the nearest civilised town which was molto bella. This was our first time here and I loved the quaint roman citta already. This was where il film famoso 'La Vita E' Bella' di Roberto Benigni was shot and where Petro della Francesco's beautiful frescoes could be found. At the tourist office, we got the chubby bespectacled gal to call a few B&Bs and she managed to find a gorgeous homestay 'La Chimera' in the centro that's owned by the extremely hospitable Lory and Alteo who welcomed us like our italian fairy godparents sent from heaven!

You could imagine at this point we were dying from the lack of sleep and F was struggling with her heavy backpack. It took us a while to locate 'La Chimera' but we finally found their inconspicuous door. The 2 rooms they showed us were so bellissime (and only at 60E una notte!) and the toilets were amaaazing! When I told the beaming ultra dolce Lory 'Siamo molto stanche. Abbiamo molto fame e abbiamo bisogno di fare colazione' (We're very tired, hungry and need breakfast), she immediately whipped up a buffet table full of goodies just for us! Yaaay!

F and I hugged in ecstasy again at our luck and ate like there's no tomorrow. We were eternally grateful with everything now after Dario's episode! Si, I was disappointed that we didn't get to harvest the grapes and do other farmwork as intended but plans changed and we must bend with the wind. After taking the longest showers in our impossibily clean toilet, we immediately felt 1,000 times better and to celebrate, we had a great late lunch at the trattoria 'Il Saraceno' (dal 1946) www.ilsaraceno.com on Via Mazzini that was listed in my guidebook. F had the pennette del Saraceno (8E - tuna, tomato, olives, onions & basil) while I slurped up the pappardelle con caccia (7E - minced pork, pinenuts & juniper berries).

Seeing the pile of fresh porcini, grapes, green figs and chestnuts on the buffet table, I couldn't resist ordering the contorno di porcini funghi trifolati con nipitella (7E) - a generous plate of perfumed soft velvety sponges, aromatic of fresh wood. F continued with the creamiest tiramisu and macchiato while I was spinning, my head featherlight from an overdose of cough syrup. Strangely my cough had disappeared - out of shock at Dario's - and now it had returned. After pranzo, we walked around town and found many ristoranti chiusi al lunedi but were already planning where to eat at night.

Arezzo was molto tranquilla and we had the whole citta to ourselves, nipping into the various food stores, palazzi and chiese. The architettura was stunning, specialmente the Piazza Grande where the famous medieval Giostra is held every year and a monthly antiques fair takes place. It was also here that we recalled the scene where Benigni's character first saw his romantic interest (the teacher) riding by on her bicycle in 'La Vita E' Bella'. All over town, we saw more signs detailing where other scenes were shot.

Known also for its jewellery, fashion and arts, Arezzo turned out to be more charming than I expected. The views were amazing, specialmente from il parco di Prato on this spectacular cloudy day. The sun rays illuminated the shallow valleys below as we stood at the railing and embraced the breeze. When we left Museo Diocesano, it started to drizzle so we headed back with snacks of peach, birra and proscuitto. F napped while I chirped happily like a bird to Tiziano on Italian MTV.

That evening, we strolled to the lively area near the anfiteatro romano for the night mercato (akin to our pasam malam) where the streets were lined with hundreds with mobile stalls. There were all kinds of stuff on sale - from household needs and clothings to plants, toys and even pets! Of course we were drawn to the edibles such as the rainbow-coloured sweets, licorice waffers (gross), chunky blocks of caramelised nuts, proscuitto, salame, formaggio, baccala and preserved olives, sundried tomatoes and stuffed chillies.

Sopratutto, we were salivating over the cooked food - sizzling burger patties, hotdogs, and truckfuls of whole porchetta. Earlier at the park today, we spoke to 3 locals who said we got to try the porchetta di Toscana qui. Just our luck, there are so many stalls selling the crispy suckling pig and we picked a busy kiosk where people were eating it between bread. I asked the guy "Posso comprare la porchetta senza il pane?" followed by "Vorrei un etto (100g)" to which the old man passed a comment which made the other guests laughed. I just shrugged and paid 5E for a neat pack for 2 persone. It was buonissimo, salty pure fatty meat, downed with our Lambrusco.


The next day we went to Cortona - made famous and romanticised by Frances Mayes' Under The Tuscan Sun' - in autobus (4,35E/ 2-way). It was just an hour ride away and the bus climbed the steep slopes to the quaint town atop the hill. Expectedly there were a lot of Americans judging from the accents we overheard at the gelateria, cafes and shops. Its mappa seemed big but it was actually quite piccola. We covered la strada Via Nazionale to the cattedrale in 5mins. The lookout points were fantastic at every angle as the town was 500m above sea level.

We hunted down Via Jannelli for the ancient case with the protruding 2nd floors and came across carine porte and dead pigeons. Si dead pigeons. I was memerised but F thought I was pazzissima. It was a little morbid but how often does one come across an intact dead pigeon with its guts all split out and a peaceful smile across its cute beak. The slopes were a killer especially in the afternoon heat. F was dripping with sweat when we ascended Via Berrettini from Piazza della Repubblica (where they shot the film 'Under The Tuscan Sun').

No, I hadn't been pinched in the arse so far (damnit! ;) but some people have complimented me on my 'molto bene italiano'. Allora domani partiamo per Firenze - la nostra preferita citta nel mondo - where we'd stay with il mio caro amico Lorenzo! Yipppeeee!

Horror farm

Allora finalmente i got the chance to blog! Scusa se ero MIA ma tu sai che difficile da trovare un internet cafe. I know, I'm supposed to be at the farm now toiling my arse off for Dario il contadino. MA things took an unexpected turn... and the farm became a horror film set. After spending 2 gorgeous days at Siena, we left on Domenica per Sinalunga where we got a lift from Alessandro and his 18-year old figlia Silvia on their way to Arezzo (they thought we looked 18, haha). Aless looked like a mad drunk but was troppo gentile and they dropped us off at Monte San Savino where we waited 4 bloody hours for Dario who was stuck in traffico from Venice.

Finalmente our bladders could'nt take it anymore and we walked 400m to the nearest bar. Fern's backpack was giving way to the 3kg of ham and 2 bottiglie di Lambrusco among other foodstuffs she bought. When Dario and his 11 year-old figlio Michele finally arrived at 8plus, we were tired, hungry and bitten to death by the zanzare (mossies). His farm was at Palazzuolo, and we had to turn into a long narrow unpaved road in the dark. He seemed friendly enough and we exchanged pleasantries. When I inquired about his famiglia, he told us his wife and him have split but still living in the same casa. Their 3 kids and wife stayed in their own quarters while he has his own room and storerooms for his produtti. Che strano.

Then we were talking about his miso and his son wanted to know what we were talking about in inglese. Dario told Michele he doesn't know anything about miso and Michele then told him to vaffanculo! Wah lao! Which son in any culture would tell his old man to go fuck himself in front of guests? It was obviously a sign of disrespect. I let out an embarrassed coughed and muttered to F what he just did. When we reached the house, it was already dark and we were all tired and hungry. After giving us a quick tour of his quarters, he whipped up a frugal dinner of miso soup, riso and a fried zucchini in his messy kitchen. And he forgot to pour us any acqua or vino. Compared to Casa Lanzarotti's 4-course cena and Elena's multi-course dinners, it was indeed miserable.

After dinner, he led us to his musky storeroom where his miso fermented in large vats pressed down with huge stones and another messy store connected to his equally untidy bedroom. The worst shock was the toilet. There was a bin overflowing with soiled tissue and the mirror was cracked and the shelves messy with junk. It looked like he didn't care for his personal hygiene. F almost threw up while I just laughed disbelievingly - to overcome my shock.

The funniest thing was he told us we couldn't stray to his wife's side and we must not use too much water (since it came from their own well) so we felt quite restricted. That night we'd have to sleep in his smelly bed which he did change his sheets and pillowcases because the ladder leading to the guestroom upstairs was not ready. He had no time to do anything even though he knew we were coming 2 weeks ago! F and I were so traumatised we just lay in bed in our clothes, jeans and bras - huddled like rabbits - on the 2cm thin mattresses. We had not slept with our bras on for years, infatti mai! We kept laughing and laughing to get over the shock and plot our escape the next morning. We couldn't imagine staying there living like this and using his shitty toilet. All night she stuck to me like a petrified bolster and we were so grateful when the light came in at dawn.