The Adventure Begins

To celebrate the New Year, this week’s update will be about the rest of my trip in Italy. So stay where you are, keep sipping your Bloody Mary, and while contemplating how one can really have a clean slate, especially after all you’ve done this past year, you naughty thing, please read on:

As you might remember, I had three glorious weeks in Italy. The trip can be essentially broken down into three segments: the marathon, which you’ve heard about, meeting my relatives in the providence of Marche, and then the last part, traveling solo (alone).

After the marathon, I stayed two more nights in Florence. Long before I actually booked the tickets, APLA was booking the hotel rooms. They would pay for three nights, and then they asked if I wanted to pay for an additional two. I thought, “why not?”

It was perfect, because I had a chance to walk off the marathon, and really get to enjoy the company of my fellow marathoners. The highlight was on our last evening, where a group of six of us ate at Trattoria 4 Leoni. This really kicked off my culinary adventures in Italy. Marco, our waiter, handed us menus, and before we could really study them, he asked, “Do you trust me?” We all looked at each other. Okay. And then the food started coming, dish after dish. What an experience!

The next day, we said our goodbyes. Those participants that made their arrangements completely through APLA were heading towards the airport and the rest of us were heading to different cities. My roommate was off to Venice. Rochelle would be heading to Rome the following day. And I wanted to make one little stop before I went and saw my family.


I took the train south down to Cortona, and actually, Rochelle decided to make a day trip of it and join me, especially when she heard that I was seeking out the house of Frances Mayes, author of the “Under the Tuscan Sun.” I have to admit that I don’t often get struck, but I read her book years back and I was really touched by it. A writing teacher I had recently had informed us that she was trying to get us to write poetry, or in other words, the stuff that pours out from our hearts, because no matter what form it is in, when it from that place, then there’s a rhythm that naturally flows. It’s the poetry you can’t make up and die trying to create, and then without any effort at all, it appears. That’s what that book was like for me, and that’s why I had to make the journey.

It was an overcast day, and as we made our way closer, it just looked worse. We got on a bus that curled its way up tight winding roads. It was mid-afternoon and, not knowing what to expect, and feeling responsible for Rochelle’s happiness, I was worried. I started thinking, “Oh please, let it be clear enough to see the house.” Just then, around the bend, the sky was clear, and there was sun! Cortona, being on top of the hill, is high enough to live above the clouds. We were struck.

It took a little too long to get my room, but we headed out, trying to beat the sun. Based on the directions I found online, we just needed to walk uphill (it’s all uphill in Cortona!) and at a tavern, turn left. When we asked a driver how to get there, in broken Italian, he asked us to hold on, asked another guy for directions, understood how to get there, and then asked the wedding party he was waiting to escort away if he could leave for a few moments to drive us up the hill! Only in Italy.

Unfortunately, Rochelle didn’t get to see it, and the following day, when I did find her house, I realized how close we were! While there isn’t a large front lawn, rather it’s quite close to the road. It is a quite road that looks out into a cascading valley of green. The façade is worn, but the coral makes is so warm and inviting. And so I sat in front of it for a little while, declared that to be my life one day, and then wrote a short thank you note and placed it under the candle.

Afterwards, I had another amazing meal. Steak with a pesto green sauce and a wine that was perfectly selected by my waiter. Somewhere between the 45-minute walk downhill back into town and that meal, I fell in love with Cortona. If there was a small town I ever feel like I could live in, it would be that one.

I think it was a perfect way to move from the hectic energy of the marathon to the long awaited moment of meeting my relatives.


(Stay tuned for next week the next segment of this exciting journey. I figured I should stop now. Give you a break. So, please, go and make yourself another Bloody Mary, because trust me, you’ll need it to deal with alcohol content of next week’s edition, which is overflowing with Booze! Carne! and Loooooove!)