Hairy Hairpins July 31, 2010

We were awakened at the resort by the maid wanting into the room. We had sunk into a delicious sleep so deep – it was 10 A.M. To be able to sleep that late is a distant memory so far away – it would be like crossing the Atlantic again and again. We flew to the breakfast bar to ensure we were armed with sufficient Cafe Americano – controlled substance that it is in this country. Breakfast al fresco with black geese and loons wandering (and wondering I suppose) around the tables. Delightful meal of salami to die for, sweet cheese, pastries – all for the enjoyment of the guests. Cafe Americano latte? Unlimited! We deftly partook but felt like thieves. Such bounty is E3 per shot. I’m sure we imbibed E12! We took our time preparing, lazing and waking up as we anticipated rejoining with our friends in our Tuscan home in Dudda. Of course auto strada is not the first choice of road so our Tuscan journey is a series of 180 turns. Hairpins could not be tighter. More screaming today for sure as I simultaneously clicked picturess, closed my eyes, held my breath and prayed. During the non-hairpin moments my Tuscan dreams started revealing themselves – endless fields of sunflowers focussed to the brilliant sunlight as it warmed olive groves and the vineyards. The estates on the hills holding command performances from their stony terrazos indicated we are indeed ensconced in Tuscany. God’s grace and the GPS got us to Dudda (blink or swallow and you have missed it). We arrived at the same time as a Dutch family and we’re soon met by Allesandro, the manager who welcomed us and gave us the quick tour with recommendations. We were at the pool and voila – K2 were there! They had arrived earlier and went marketing. After some inital shuffling, settling and ‘friggo’ getting (ours had died) – we were off to dinner (recommended by Allesandro) in Lucolena. http://www.locandoborgaantico.it

It was few kilometres away nestled into a hill, almost indiscernable. Upon arrival we heard chickens telling us our food would be fresh and scrumptious. Al fresco dining overlooking Tuscan olives groves really must be experienced as my words are insufficient for the description. Our table is under the most impressive grape vine. Our waiter for the evening was an amusing entertainer. We enjoyed pork and Tuscan beans and spicy ravioli with bruschetta. Choclate cloud cake and creme brulee were sugar perfection with the allotted 6 ounces of Cafe Americano. I must mention that we had a coffee making session with Allesandro with a pot that amkes 6 servings (I’m thinking to myself – 1 serving). We’ll see how that goes on the morning of August 1. We studies the washer long and hard and success awaited us upon our return from dinner as we had wet clothing to hang like a Tuscan – outside! Now late into the evening we hang out – reading, writing, thinking about here or anywhere.

I most note about my travel mate (my everything mate, actually) is always a pleasure. He has great skill with the motorcycle which that and that alone gives me the confidence I need to do these crazy things. In my heart I hope we can continue these adventures as God allows as he is the one I wish to journey with always. No one makes me laugh like he does when he makes up crazy names for in fake Italian – like peachetta and Cinque-Terran. He says things so no one else can hear, makes me laugh out loud and then walks away or acts innocent. He’s so fun and very, very, very obsessed with the wireless on my phone when its free. Urging me on a turn so sharp you leave a part of yourself and meet up again all at breakneck speed (we are Italian locals now, you know). “Take a picture of this turn.” I am closing my eyes and photographing pavement in hopes I don’t see it in reality. My photos are not thought out pieces of memory – they are allsnapped on the back of a 2010 Harley with my hand to my mouth to prevent a scream and the other hand pointed in the oppposite direction. Tis great fun – and the only way you can see and smell the land. So big kudos to my skillful, adventurous husband – you want to program the GPS to do what now?

It’s now very, very late. I cannot sleep. Too quiet perhaps, but again I must note before I forget that my husband has now named my sandals ‘CROCE’. This made me laugh till I cried (again). I determined I will buy ‘E’ stickers for all my CROCS, so that I will forevermore wear Italian sandals.

The Italians appear passionate about everything. They live each day to the fullest it seems. For me, whether it is their art, their wine, or their food – its all been done with great passion, then skill. Lesson Learned. LIVE.

The balance of hard work, riposo and food has yilded healthy looking bodies of all ages. BALANCE.

We opened our shutters and gazed at the stars and we shared more fake Italian jokes. We are in a room with twin beds – this is the first this has happened since a youth trip to P.E.I. in the summer of 1979 as newleyweds. Just as then in newleywed shock, we pushed them together so we could nestle into our rest mode – night 1 in our long awaited villa. Those hairy hairpins lead us to exactly where we needed to be – Ville i Cipressi, Dudda. http://www.villeicipressi.com or http://www.villeicipressi.it

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About Diary of a Changed Woman

Living a blessed life in Canada with my husband on the beautiful shores of Lake Huron. I work as a Human Resources consultant to small business. I love my family - our grandchildren are the loves of my life. I'm a change agent personally and professionally. Change is what I'm about - no matter what!
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