A trip westward to the coast offered no escape from the heinous rain.
In fact, mudslides and fallen trees made us cut our journey short—to get back while we were still able. But first, a quick stop at the Bolgheri enoteca was essential, since that town brews both Sassicaia and Ornellaia—the “SuperTuscan” wines that have revolutionized Italy’s eonology and received rave reviews throughout the world.
Just down the mountain lies the town of Barga, which features a Medieval walled city, which boasts Aristo’s Bar (known to most as Casciani’s).
For three generations, this little establishment has offered neighbors the “vino locale,” or fresh, local wine by the glass (22 cents), the bottle ($1.10) or the jug (why bother?). Our love affair with this area is neatly centered in this colorful bar, where vino, smiles, and songs are served lovingly in many languages by Saint Aristo and his friends. Between the last time we were here (’96) and now, Aristo suffered a serious health problem, buried his mother (with whom he had dined nightly), and quit sampling his own wares. Other than that, and for three generations now, not much has changed, thank God. As the sign hanging in the bar says, “From wine what sudden friendships spring.”
Terra cotta roofs roost throughout Italy. This one sits atop a 500-year old villa in the mountains of Tuscany, where we are making our home for about three weeks.
Despite frightful weather, intermittent Internet access, and perilous mountain drives, the splendor and history around every corner remind you that your woes will soon fade—and so will you.
A week ago, we left behind blue skies and warm highs in Minnesota.
Although our exit was strategically timed to trade in snow for a lingering fall, the new continent refused to cooperate. We chose train travel between Paris and Bologna to absorb the beauty of the mountains. Instead, we saw more of the “storm of the century” that has been burying roads, villages, and people. Our heavenly train ride became a hellish confrontation with Mother Nature, as this shot through the window suggests.
1 kid, 5 islands, 69 days
Here's my son’s blog from an '08/09 BreakAway in the Caribbean.
1 planet, countless cultures, 120 days
In 00/01, when the internet was a pup, I went RTW and posted these words and pics en route.
