We started early and hiked an ascent of around 200 metres from the town of Pitigliano, reaching the river Lente and joining the Vie Cave (tr: “carved roads”) to Sovana, another Etruscan town. Breakfast isn’t a big deal in Italy, so we were all ravenous by the end of the walk – which wasn’t supposed to be the end, but we made it so with pizza in town. Way too much, way too late in the day. Zucchini e salsiccia – I remember the yolk-yellow flowers cast in a veneer of hot mozzarella.

It was a hot day and we were full and a lot less than willing to walk any further, so we were shuttled by our drivers down to the Cascata del Mulino hot springs below the ancient spa village of Saturnia. The geothermal water surges out at 800 litres per second at a temp of 37.5C/99.5F, and has a high content of sulphur that darkened our silver jewellery and made steel wool of our hair.

From there we travelled a very winding road to the small medieval village of Santa Fiora for one night.

We de-sulphured as best we could (but gee that eggy boff hangs around!) and made our way into town, voicing our disappointment as we looked over the long-legged bridge, hoping for the roar of a glorious river promised.
Nope, just a carpark.

We’d been booked in to the restaurant Il Barilotto, and we arrived exhausted, late and quite unhungry. We were treated to vast quantities of delicious, rich food, and dished out at an hour and in an an order we weren’t yet used to: after antepasto came the pici alla salsiccia e finocchietto, followed by roast meat and vegetables. Pasta and pizza had done its worst, digestively speaking, to a number of us since arriving in Italy.

So. Many. Carbs.

I later found out that the proprieter’s offsider (who is now the owner, due to the fact the proprieter – rest his dear crochety old soul – flew the mortal coup a few years ago) was off work with a broken wrist. In an absolutely packed-full restaurant, we witnessed a comedy of errors that, these days, someone would have caught on video and soundtracked the subsequent reel with Funiculì-Funiculà. The crescendo of his performance arrived when he tipped an entire plate of cooked spinach into the lap of one of the women. We would have applauded if not so incensed by the offhand, non-apology “ma!”

We were chastised in the Satafiorese dialect in the way you’d expect from a nonna for not eating it all up and going for seconds. And refusing dolce? Gee wizz. Daffy foreigners.

Bemused by the drama of the experience, we left and herded our bellies back across the piazza to the hotel. Along the way, the cracked bell in the clock in Piazza Garibaldi clanged out the hour and the woman who’d been on my flight gave us all – including the locals – her gold award-winning Quasimodo impression.

We had only a handful of hours in Santa Fiora, one night before moving onto the next point on the itinerary. I muse now if there was a corner of my being that had an inkling then? Had there been a flash somewhere in the mitochondria, sent inward from the quick of my fingers clairvoyant to the brush against the stone in that town? Was there a place in me, anywhere, that recognised this village would, in a mere two months, become my home for the next eleven years?

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Il Terzo Giorno – Pitigliano to Santa FiorA

First Published 11 June, 2012

Walking from Pitigliano – day three of the writing and walking in Tuscany tour.

“At first the feet require a sense of where they are and so they are linked to the eyes, the self-appointed ‘grownups’, of the situation.
As the feet grow and mature into the new terrain, they let go of the hand of the eyes so that both are free to wander as they please.
The feet revel in the newness of not being hawked and the eyes go on a first date with the landscape…”

Wifi has been scant, which has made it difficult to blog and keep in contact with home and at the same time has been a wonderful reprieve from the day to day tedium of checking emails, social networking, work, etc.

Days are folding into one another behind me so I am way out of whack with the dates…but we will work with what we have. And if this is work, well, I am in heaven.

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