I woke up and felt like getting up. Once downstairs, with windows open, I noticed Nextdoor Nonna also busying herself about the place. I felt her unspoken approval (albeit in my own head) and forged ahead with creating pear and nectarine compote to adorn my Tuscan bread ‘French toast’.
Why is it if you simply say ‘Tuscan…fill in the blank…’ that it sounds complicated and sophisticated no matter what? Quite the opposite is true in Tuscany. Tuscan food is fresh, simple, local and ever so delicious.
The next step was to start pot 1 of 4 with the moka. The pot was not cooperating today – frustratingly so. I also mixed the creamy eggs for the soaking of the flavourless Tuscan bread. Grrr. Four pots of moka becomes six. It’s spitting mercilessly and I don’t know why. I guess its all about results because it didn’t disappoint. What would Nonna think?
We were ready for the day – Job 1 – I felt resolved that pink PRADA shoes would be iconic of my Italian trip and not to be passed up – as long as they maintained their secure position under the watchful eye of the security guard. We decided some motorcycling was defintely needed as we had some splendid downtime. Cloudy day equals good riding weather.
We wind through olive groves too numerous on our way to PRADA. We pass by Marconi Strada. Marconi – were you born here? Did you dream about your signals here? So many reminders of my home away from home – Newfoundland!
It’s honourable mention time for our solicitous spouses who plot and plan every road, every turn to ensure on time, accurate arrival at desired destination. They plan it, execute it and indulge us in our girly dreams.
My Beloved knows the mall is named SPACE (for whatever reason) and he is very excited about the possibilities apart from PRADA. True it is other worldly – fashion other worldly! Once there, I now obtain a ticket for entrance. There is a dispenser where you push a button, you hold your breath, hoping it registers less than 200. It’s the only way you get in.
Who is PRADA? I wonder. How was PRADA started? At that point – who knows. What I do know is that it is an esteemed fashion organization with yummy Italian leather, headquartered in Milan. I am vibrating with excitement as my sample shoe is requesting its mate through an electronic call system. Try on pink perfection. SOLD. Ticket 108 duly noted. Turn around and …gasp… what’s this? White shoes so beautiful, that my shoe twin in Canada will be green with shoe envy for sure. Request made. Senora Cinderella puts her feet in the pair. Can this really be happening? SOLD. My heart is beating hard. Like a school girl parting with hard earned babysitting money – I I pay for these leather confections. Meryl Streep or Helen Gurley Brown eat your heart out. On this day – I am here! Indulgent? To say the least! I can also see that My Beloved is relishing in my joy and I’m so grateful for him once again.
We load the precious PRADA boxes in the motorcycle and head out on an ‘alternate route’. Hmmmm…..We head higher, higher, higher until I am face to face with mountains of lower height! Roads very narrow, elevations higher, rain begins!
Again, be still my beating heart! Rain abates, I see a road sign for Radda in Chianti and my tension begins to ease. We begin descent – its exhilerating and refreshing. Lucolena, now a known landmark of our ending destination – and in a flash we’re home. PRADA in hand – rain over – and lunch time. We packed in a lot of thrills all by noon and now its riposo.
I will also note that the sparkling Mrs. K2 (a.k.a. Gucci) created her own successful trip at Gucci. Boots, handbag (so soft, like olive oil – and about the same colour) and a very trendy belt were the prizes won by hunting. We shared excitement of the day so far and dwindled away for rest, relaxation and our own thoughts.