Pick a Title

It's all done and I posted it once but then didn't like the title, and now I'm stumped but wanting to post. So, you decide. If someone actually comments I may change the name.

1. Under the Tuscan Sun
2. If You Send a Tourist to Tuscany
3. If You Give a Giraffe a Gelatto
4. Wakawakawaka
5. Three Walks in a Less Fictional Place Then Those Woods
6. Pick a Title
7. ___________________________
8. Three Tuscan Towns
9. My Life as a Guy Who Can't Title His Blog Entries and Thinks Anyone Really Gives a S*** What It's Called


I'm sitting here at a surfing hostel in Rabat, Morocco, having arrived a few hours ago for the express purpose of waking up tomorrow morning and going to the Indian Consulate to try and get my visa to go to India. Yes, I just got to Morocco a few days ago, but I just want to get this visa thing done and out of the way so I can get on with living here (here being Marrakech, which is currently a there as here is actually Rabat).

Actually it is a here again and it is now Wednesday. I'm back in Marrakech, having succeeded in step one of the visa process. I didn't finish the blog entry in Rabat and spent yesterday wandering through the souks with a new friend from the hostel. but now I'm back at it, and sketchy wifi willing, I'll get this posted in time for you all to read at work when you arrive there in a couple of hours.

Happy to be a distraction.

I haven't written in awhile, and I would like to blame shoddy wifi connections at the hostels I've been staying at, and conveniently I can do so, as it is the truth. They've been shoddy, and they've wreaked havoc not only on my blogging time, but also on my ability to skype with Noah and Jake and other folk back home.

Here though (that was Rabat here, not here here, as here is still kinda shoddy) at least, it seems to be working pretty good. Not superstar stellar awesome or anything, but well enough that I could take the photos I had already uploaded to Google Drive, dump them into Blogger, and start type type typing away.

I expect that last sentence required a few TMs strategically placed. I welcome you to do so at your leisure. You can either print this up and insert them, or perhaps etch them directly onto your screen right now with a pin or something.

When last I babbled I was in Barcelona, babbling about Tuscany. Well, now I'm in Morocco, and I am going to continue to babble about Tuscany. Might as well keep this kinda linear.

The first thing you should know is that I know absolutely nothing about any of the places I visited in Tuscany, except that they were old, and lovely. I didn't take any guided walking tours, free or otherwise, and I only visited tourist information centres long enough to get a map to help me get unlost when I decided I didn't want to be lost anymore. That is, when I could find such a place. Conveniently there were a few map books that included city maps available where I was staying, so they got tucked in my bag anytime I walked out the door.

So what did I do? I walked. I took pictures. I ate. And here's what came of that...

Volterra

Volterra is apparently where the vampires live, that is, if you like your blood sucking fiends to not only sparkle but also suffer from an enormous amount of teen angst. Regardless it is a lovely spot.

If we were to walk together along the streets of Volterra our feet may direct us to such places as these:

And along those streets we might view such places as these:

Pretend I sent you one of those.

I like doors, and I take lots of pictures of them. There's actually a place just down from where I am staying in the medina in Marrakech that has lots of old doors for sale. I haven't asked about shipping, but let me know if you want me to.

If we were to enter one of these homes we might encounter something like this (though not likely as this one is Palazzo Vitti, and is a museum).

But we might see some alabaster. Actually, in Volterra I will  guarantee you that if your eyes are open and looking at something other than your shoes that you will see some alabaster. You will, in fact, see lots of alabaster. It's kinda a thing there. They're kinda known for it.

Walking together in Volterra we would of course arrive in one of several piazzas.

And we might even wander by the old fortress, built I believe by the Medici's, more on them another time. And while we wandered along the wall of this enormous old fortress we might wonder why it's not really on the map as a place to visit.

Then we'd see the sign telling us it is now a prison, and pictures of it are forbidden. Look at me living on the edge with this one.

Of course we would make it to the cathedral, even if we did forget it's name and don't want to look it up right now.

Okay, it's the Cathedral to the Assumption of Saint Mary, but in Italian so it sounds way better. And of course it has a baptistry. And for some reason that I can't quite remember, but want to blame on Florence and it's Duomo, the baptistry is a building separate from the church.

In the case of Volterra even more so separate as it's now also a museum/ art space and had some funky movie-music-light show swirling around on it's ceiling and partially the walls. Got a bit of a kink from that one.

In my neck.

 

Continuing our stroll we might come across the old roman amphitheatre.

Or maybe not, it would depend if we got lost or not along one of the winding ways.

But a walk along the paths outside the wall and through the park would most certainly be in order.

As would gelatto, unless of course you are some odd sort of person who did not like gelatto, though why you would be such a person I do not understand. Let's assume that if we were to take such a walk you would also like gelatto. That will keep this simpler as I will not have to start berating you.

Of course, as Volterra, like every walled town in Tuscany it seems, is at the top of a hill, the walk would not be complete without looking out over the Tuscan country side and wondering how they got to have it so good with this gorgeous place.

San Gimignano (or as I like to call it, Little Jimmy)

Now, if you were to join me on a walk in San Gimignano then you would have to first learn how to say it properly, or, like me, just start thinking of it as Little Jimmy.

I'm not sure who said it, but apparently medieval Italian families suffered from tower envy, so Little Jimmy has got the look of a stone Manhattan going for it. There are currently eleven towers standing I believe, and it used to count up in the forties or so.

I wasn't sure which side it looked best on, so figured I'd just put both.

San Gimignano was the town/city/thingy that I was closest to, so I actually got in a couple of times. That said, I'm not actually going to plague you with twice as many pictures of it. Not this time anyway. I may sneak some night photos in another time though. Just to change the mood.

After getting up the hill (see, they're all on hills) our walk would be interrupted by a wall, until of course we found the gate through said wall.

Once through we could explore to our hearts content. Getting a view of the towers from the remains of the fortress, which is now a park.

Or getting a view of the towers from the main piazza.

Or getting a view of the main piazza from the steps of the cathedral, which by the way is also dedicated to the assumptions of St Mary.

You know, a misplaced "s" can make all the difference if you misplace it right. I think I'll leave that one right there.

Or getting a view of the piazza and cathedral and one of the towers.

Eventually though we would likely continue on with our exploration.

And of course find ourselves in another piazza.

And get to watch a puppet show already in progress. I wouldn't have any small bills or change with me so we'd have to go back later and confuse the puppeteer a little by giving him money before he did anything.

I would continue supporting my addiction to doors.

And wine.

And eventually find a park.

Then of course we'd find our way back to the cathedral, but for some reason I wouldn't get any pictures of the inside that I thought worth including now.

I would though get pictures of St. Augustine's. It seems every town in Tuscany has a St. Augustine to accompany the St. Mary Assumptions. I do not have an explanation for that.

And we'd maybe get to talk to an Augustine visiting from the US who was there helping out a friend. He'd say it was okay to take pictures, even though there were signs that suggested you couldn't. But those signs could have been for specific items, or be referring to not using a flash. Honestly, there needs to be a universal symbol for photos and consistency on where it is applied. If it's outside the door then it's forbidden for the entire site. If it's not outside the door, or directly inside, but is along side specific altars or other items, does it mean only for those things, or is it for the whole place?

See? A guy can get confused, especially this one.

I do actually abide by them (prison shot above aside), and ask when I'm not sure, and if there is no one to ask then I ere on the side of caution. I will say though that one thing that ticks me off is people taking pictures of things where it's been made perfectly clear that they are not supposed to do so.

Perhaps I am too judgemental. Perhaps I am too uptight. Or perhaps I just want to be respectful of the places I go and don't like it when other people are disrespectful, even if what is being disrepected is some other organization's copyright on a particular place or object. For reasons of security though? Apparently not. But it's not like I'm trying to case the joint to break someone out. If I were I'd do something more practical like find the blueprints and have them hidden in a full body tattoo and then commit a crime and ensure I got sent there to serve my sentence.

That'd work.

Anyway, were you to join me on a visit to St. Augustine's in San Gimignano we would have gotten permission for these.

Whenever I see anything to do with Augustine I think of my father. I don't start salivating or anything, which I guess is a good sign, but he does come to mind.

And, like I said, we couldn't leave without checking out the view and wondering how they got it so good.

Colle di Val D'Elsa

Now, if you were to join me on a trip to Colle di Val D'Elsa then perhaps one of us would have learned how to say it's name properly.

D'Elsa, as she is known to her friends (starting as of right now) is divided into a lower and upper town, with a bridge separating the two.

This is not that bridge.

This, and the tower below, are the fortified entrance and moat that are at one end of the city that is the gate into the lower town.

This would be the bridge from the lower to the upper town.

And these would be some of the streets we would have walked.

In addition to doors I've developed a fondness for street lights/lanterns, or at least the kind that are afixed to walls. If you were to join me on my visit to D'Elsa I would be thanking you for your patience with me as I tried to line them up, especially as I still didn't do a very good job of it.

You would probably wonder about this one though. I certainly do. Let's blame my uncle.

I could argue that doors are much like windows (especially if you're thinking about B&E).

At some point a door and window collection may emerge. When you come across a piazza or square or whatever local word is for it in whatever city you happen to be in that has artists selling their wares, you usually find at least one fellow who appears to specialize in the paintings (artistic rendering not college pro) of windows and doors. Perhaps one day I will do the same.

Perhaps not.

Wandering around D'Elsa, as with many other places, we'd likely see a lot of laundry. While not the same as doors and windows laundry does have a certain appeal. I've got a great one from Barcelona that I'm looking forward to showing you later.

Shops abound in D'Elsa. Where Volterra has the alabaster, D'Elsa seems to have the crystal.

Now, if you had been with me in D'Elsa then you would know what I was talking about now when I say I could kick myself for not getting a picture of this shop with a loom where the artisan made these beautiful scarves, shawls, and other garments. Sometimes you see a loom and you know it's a show piece to convince you that the factory-made, mass produced items are actually lovingly hand crafted right there by the owners grandmother. In this case though it was quite genuine, and the work was amazing.

Now, I've talk about my desire for a travel scarf. I've got one that I brought with me, but I've had this notion that I would pick one up somewhere along the way, and that it would come to embody this trip somehow and become a sacred relic. My Precious, if you will.

Well, that scarf was there, and had you been with me you would have agreed that it was beautiful, and near perfect. You would have also agreed that 140 euros was a fair price to pay for such a scarf, but not within my budget. So, no scarf from D'Elsa.

So now I'm in Marrakech, home to so many souks you wouldn't know what to do. The number of scarves in this place is, well, is alot. Part of me always figured I'd get the scarf here. Now that I'm looking around though, I kinda really like the one I came with. I have no idea where it came from. It just appeared at home one day. So, check the pictures of me with a scarf, there's one in Budapest of it on the table. If it's yours let me know, that way I know who to beg to let me keep it.

It's nice how expectations change, and how things that seem ordinary become special. Perhaps they always were and you just didn't see it until you had it in the right light. Now, if you were with me on my walk in D'Elsa we would not be having such a conversation. So perhaps I won't make you suffer through it now.

Sorry about that.

Hopefully you would see the smiley face.

And of course we would continue to walk through streets and alleyways...

... through piazzas...

... and gaze at the clock tower connected to the cathedral which was either to Mary or Augustine, I simply can't remember.

Nope, I'm wrong. It's to Santi Alberto e Mariziale.

See, sounds better in Italian.

We would though comment on how the number four on the clock face is that neat way I mentioned first in Tallinn (IIII). Spoiler alert: I'll mention it again in Siena.

We would also likely comment to one another on how great the interior was. And perhaps sit for awhile and enjoy the view and quiet. Something I'm finally learning to do. Like I said, I can be slow.

And, like everywhere else, but for some reason even more this time, we would have to take some time to admire the view offered from the upper town of D'Elsa and wonder how they got it so good.

So, were you to have joined me when I visited these three towns that stand atop the hills overlooking the beautiful Tuscan countryside I would hope that you would have enjoyed it. I know I certainly did. And perhaps you would make the same promise to yourself that I have made to myself, which is to come back and explore many more of these hilltop cities. and discover the doors, windows, lanterns, laundry, and alleyways that they all have to offer.

Oh, and let's not forget the gelatto.

Chi Me Lo Ha Fatto Fare

You know how I said I'd be writing four of these things about Tuscany, and how I'd share pictures but probably not say too much. Well, this is one of those moments where I was mistaken. I thought I would write the second one about the smalls towns I visited, but having spent a few hours going through pictures and still not having sorted them through for what to share right now, I've decided to write about the winery. And if you thought up to this point that I like to babble, well, you haven't yet got me babbling on the topic of wine and vineyards.

Yes, many of you will have dealt with me babbling while under the influence of wine, and for that I can only say a heartfelt thank you for sharing some wine together, but I don't often talk about wine. And that's because I know absolutely nothing about it. Nothing. Been to several wineries, tastings, heck, even a class once. Got a book. Nothing. Nadda. Zip. Don't know a thing.

Except that I like it, or at least, I like a lot of it. And by that I do not (surprisingly) mean quantity. I mean range of varietals, countries, price ranges. Price ranges especially. My dearest, and very sadly departed, friend Jill, who loved wine more than anyone I know, and who I shared too many bottles to count (especially the next day - who made me do this?, one might ask) once said to me that she never wanted to develop too refined a palette, especially for expensive wines. Enjoy them, appreciate them, understand them, identify them, have them on occasion? All yes. Make them a habit? Hell no. Who can afford it? Rather, keep the palette straight forward and happy with low and mid price ranged options. That way you get to enjoy that much more. She was good at finding them. She was excellent at sharing them.  Jill and her husband Marc are who turned me on to Tuscany, and the idea of coming here, and they were both very present for me during my time in Tuscany. Well, they always are, just a bit more from time to time, and these was one of those times.

But let's be clear. That list of things you do with wine. Jill had them all down. Me, I'm good at appreciating them. So this isn't going to be a lesson in wine, or viticultures, or anything like that. This is going to be a bunch of pretty pictures of the winery I visited: Fattorio Poggio Alloro.

Fattorio Poggio Alloro is a family owned vineyard and farm a little outside of San Gimignano (Little Jimmy to his friends), not too far from where I was staying. I'll tell you a little bit about them, but honestly, just go to Tuscany, or, perhaps start with their website which I've already linked to above.

When asked, my hosts recommended this as the place to go for a winery tour/tasting experience. As already mentioned it was something I was wanting to do.

So, they're a vineyard and winery. They also have olives, about 3000 trees, and produce olive oil. They also have chianina cows, the best beef for florentine steaks I am told, a couple variety of pigs, chickens, a large garden where they grow tomatoes and a variety of vegetables, and fields of wheat and other grains. Oh, and it's all organic.

They've also got a restaurant and are a B&B. As I said, they make wine and olive oil, which they produce for sale. From a food perspective the farm and the B&B are self-sustaining. So they use all their vegetables, they make their own pasta from the wheat and other grains, prosciutto and other yummy pork from the pigs, and of course florentine steak and other yummy beef bits from the cows. I belief they also sell their beef and pork products outside of the farm, and maybe their pasta too. Sadly not in Canada.

It really is a great operation, and it was fascinating to walk about. It was also very pretty.

That's San Gimignano in the not too distance.

And then of course there is the winery, which has a beauty of it's own kind.

And then of course the chianina cows.

They're the white ones. The one to the left is the calf of the one dairy cow. Yes, they also have a dairy cow that produces fresh milk for the farms use.

Of course, after all of that wandering about the farm and vineyards it was necessary to taste some of their wares and enjoy the afternoon a bit more.

Yes, this is what comes with the wine tasting as a light snack.

As much as I enjoy Ontario wines, they could all learn a little bit about how to run a winery tasting operation. And they could learn it here (Fattoria, not the blog).

 My favourite of the two whites.

My favourite of the two reds.

Not that they don't have more than two of each, this is just what came as part of the tasting menu.

Then I learned that steak was on the menu for dinner. Well, I wasn't going to be in Tuscany and not have steak. So dinner it was.

Dinner was several courses, and you're not getting pictures of all of them, as I didn't take pictures of all of them. I was busy eating.

I have no idea what this was but it was a toasty bread thing with this totally yummy stuff on top. I'll likely eventually remember and you'll get some sort of addendum in the future in a totally inappropriate place I am sure.

This was a squash (I think) risotto. Also delicious.

You see, this is the problem with falling behind in writing. I can't remember it all for long periods of time. New stuff comes in. And I remember remembering all the different parts of this meal several days later. But now, nope.

Maybe it's all the paella I've been eating here in Barcelona.

Anyway. Steak.

And this really amazing dessert. Not to be confused with a desert, which is where I will find myself by this time next week I expect.

Oh, and the best part. Communal table.

See? Fun.

And that was my time at Fattoria Poggio Alloro.

Marmalade Tea

A friend commented the other day that it sounded like I was "taking a vacation from my trip". I have astute friends.

There are many things I don't share about my trip on this blog. In some ways it's actually a bit dishonest, as what you get about how I'm doing with the everything is, for the most part anyway, akin to being told "fine" when asking someone how they're doing when you pass them on the street, or in the halls at work, or school, or the myriad of other places where that question gets asked every day. Or you ask them "What's new with you?", and you hear about everything going on in their lives other than themselves. I am guilty of both of these conditions, in life, and in this blog.

Now, I've tried to change my ways about the "fine" answer. It has driven a lot of people that have genuinely cared about me (and me them) nuts over the years. So I try to honestly answer anyone who asks me how I'm doing, much to their chagrine I expect. 

So, if you were to ask me how I'm doing after two weeks of "taking a vacation from my trip", I would answer "Not so good... but it'll get better". But I would also tell you that it has been the best two weeks I've had on this trip since Noah and Jake headed home. And I'll leave it at that.

I'm likely to, over the next couple of days as I chill out in Barcelona before heading to Marrakech, put up four posts on my time in Tuscany. This is one of them. Another one will be about a winery I went to which I absolutely adored, and another will be a collection of medieval cities I visited, and the last, though not necessarily in order of posting, will provisionally be comparing the Duomos of Florence and Siena. Just for the heck of it.

All that may change. Just letting you know what I'm thinking.

What I don't think will change though will be what I say. I don't intend to say much. I don't actually have much I want to share. Pictures? For sure, lots of those to go around. You will soone tire of endless street shots I expect. But feelings, stories, the skinny? Not this time. I'm keeping most of those for me. 

I will say this though. When you want a hot cup of something and you can't have caffeine and there is marmalade in the fridge, it makes for a great cup of tea. 

So here's the first of four on Tuscany. It's where the marmalade was and where I called home.

Okay, not the whole thing, just most of the bottom.

Here's the garden.

Here's my friend from the garden. Some of you will have seen her on FB as she was my selfie stunt-double a couple of times.

 And then this is some of the view from said garden.

So that was what I was fortunate enough to call home. Very lucky me I will tell you.

Last thing for this one. When I said earlier on that "it'll get better", well... it already is.