Lake Trasimeno is situated just inside Umbria, just east of the Tuscan border, and has three islands, I think, one on which Neil and I, Ashley and a friend stayed for three days in 1996, if I remember correctly. The women, three cars full again, drove to the town of Passignano, caught a little ferry boat to the Isola Maggiore, and spent a few hours, eating, walking, sitting, taking photographs of the old doors on the houses of the fishermen who live on the island. There are five churches on this island, five churches in the space which one can circumnavigate in one hour or less.

The lake is calm and beautiful, but we all wanted to spend some time in Cortona as well before we headed back to the villa, so we were off again in mid-afternoon up to Cortona, the town made famous by Frances Mayes (Under The Tuscan Sun). Read the book, see the movie (not much like the book, but a fun movie nonetheless) and enjoy vicariously the life in another medieval village WAY up on the hill. There is a different feel to Cortona, somehow. More noble, a bit less junk for sale, I’m not quite sure. But I entered the walled town from a different entrance than I typically do, having found a parking spot JUST outside one of the arches. Ten steps inside the walls I stood in front of a tiny gallery full of whimsical original drawings by a young man (everyone is young in my eyes these days . . . either young or VERY VERY old . . . )who sat just outside the shop. Short story is I bought three of his pieces for a very reasonable price, and they are packed well and safely in one of my suitcases. For some reason I wanted to stay in Cortona on this visit. I sat at a little table in the square, sipping white sangria with something added which tasted like peach schnappes, and wondered what it would be like to have a Frances Mayes experience. I don’t think I could live without the dogs and Neil, but it was nice to fantasize anyway.

Ciao.

Woodswoman

This is my catch-up, the promised one. I will do it in segments, since there is no way I can figure out how to make paragraph breaks or indentations which actually post to the site.

This is a new paragraph! Montepulciano is situated about 45 minutes from our villa, in my favorite part of Tuscany, and is quite close to Pienza, site of some of the scenes in The English Patient.

We drove our three cars to Montepulciano and all ended up in the same parking area within 5 minutes of one another! Amazing! We all walked through the old medieval brick and stone arch, tasted a bit of tuscan toppings on tuscan bread, but agreeing that it was too early in the morning for the wine. The sun hadn’t yet crossed the yardarm, as Neil likes to say.

I bought six jars of my favorite pasta seasoning mix, saving five to take home and earmarking one of them for the pasta I would cook for our group that evening. We found the lovely Caffe Polizziano for lunch, a recommendation from one of our last travelers two years ago, and then we all split up to shop or write or find the internet cafe. Unfortunately, we left our restaurant just at about 1:30, which is the time the shops are all closed. So we were forced to stay in the only store that stayed open, a beautiful leather shop with journals, pens, shoes, purses, and I found I just couldn’t resist a soft red leather journal. It came with an old fashioned pen, the dipping into the ink kind, and I was told I could choose a color of ink to take home with me. I certainly hope my clothes aren’t purple when I unpack them!

On to Pienza for the last half of the afternoon, the beautiful little place tucked on the edge of the Tuscan valley. There I finally bought a ceramic pitcher made by a woman who owns MezzaLuna (half moon), and I will carry it home on the plane.

Back at the villa, several of the women chopped mushrooms, onions, garlic, and peppers while I made the pasta sauce. Salad and a nice Chianti topped it all off well.

We even had a fire in the huge old kitchen fireplace in our villa. Sleep until the next day. See next entry for Lake Trasimeno, Isola Maggiore, and Cortona.

Wooodswoman