Arrival in Italy

Italy 2018

About an hour ago, my family packed their bags into the car and headed down the hill through the gates of Villa Antiche Pietre for one last time. For the past 9 days, we have filled this house with fun, laughter, food and lots of wine. It has been wonderful having them here and I am truly sad to see them go. We have not spent this much time together since we were teenagers, and, though we all have our personality quirks, I am amazed at the comfort level I have felt having them here. It has long been a dream of mine to have us all together in Italy. I have always wanted to share this country that I love with them. Now, it has finally happened and the experience has been everything I had hoped it would be. My dream was for them to see an Italy that is not a packaged tour and I believe that I have succeeded. So my sadness today is tempered by a sense of satisfaction that I have been able to offer my sisters and their husbands a very special experience in Italy. Now, back to the beginning.

Friday, September 28. The alarm went off at 4:00 am. It seemed an ungodly hour, but I got out of bed and began getting ready to make my way to the airport. I put the kettle on to boil and stuffed a few things into my bag. I made instant coffee but it was undrinkable. I grabbed a quick shower, packed my toiletry bag, got dressed and headed downstairs. I could not believe how many people were waiting for the airport shuttle at 4:40 am! It arrived and we headed out into the chilly night air. I was only wearing a light sweater, since I knew that it would be warm when I got to Rome. Bag check at the airport was easy and soon I was in a very long security line. I thought I had given myself plenty of time. I just never expected so many people to be in the airport so early.

Dublin Airport-600 a.m.

Once I finally got through security, it was quite a hike to the gate. All the while I could think of nothing but a cup of coffee. As I neared the gate, there was a coffee stand and I quickly ordered a cappuccino. By the time I received it, boarding had already begun. Coffee in hand, I got to the gate attendant who said, “I’m sorry sir, you’ll have to leave that hot drink here. We don’t want passengers getting scalded.” You’ve got to be kidding, I thought, but complied. That was the bad news. The good news was that I napped on the plane and before you knew it, we were landing in Fiumicino. Just one last thought. For me, though, this was the first time flying into Rome where the plane did not follow the coastline down to the airport, but took an inland route. It was a perfectly clear morning and I could see Lake Trasimeno in the distance. I thought, “That’s where we’ll be for two weeks.” We flew over the Lago di Bracciano and then we were right over the city and I could see St. Peter’s Basilica and Square directly below me. It was a magical return to Rome.

The airport in Rome was its usual chaotic self. The new electronic passport control system actually seemed slower than the old way and you still had to stop and get your passport stamped! Before heading to baggage claim, I stopped and finally had a cappuccino. It was worth waiting for. I collected my bag and found the train station. I managed to buy a ticket and board a train that was leaving in 3 minutes. I was on schedule to catch the 1:00 train to Chiusi, but just barely. The train was jam packed but got me where I needed to go. When I arrived in Termini, the train was posted, but no gate. I went and bought my ticket and a sandwich for the ride. I had a few minutes, so I browsed through a bookstore, but decided that was a bad idea after my bag knocked over a stack of books. When I came out the track was posted, something like 2B. I had no idea. It said to enter through Gate A, which was at the far end of the station. I passed through the gate, followed the signs to 2B, and started walking, and walking, and walking. This gate was practically in the periferia. Fortunately, the train was 5 minutes late. A large number of passengers were waiting along with me. When the train arrived, there was a mad dash. I got on board, stowed my bag and found a seat. I was on my way to Umbria.

The station itself is back about a mile

The Hobbit car

The train was a regionale, that is, one that makes all the stops. On a warm Friday afternoon, where it was clear many were heading home for the weekend, the languid pace of the train seemed appropriate. As we approached Chiusi – the next to last stop – the train gradually emptied. When we arrived, I dragged my bag off and made a beeline for the station bar. My 4:00 a.m. wake up was starting to get to me. I had a quick coffee and set off for the car rental office. It wasn’t exactly near the station, so I got to see a bit of Chiusi on my way. Since it was near the end of siesta time, the town was pretty quiet.  I found the Europcar office and presented my papers. The gentleman pointed out that my scheduled pick-up time was 5:30 and it was just around 3:30 now, but he said, “the car is basically ready, we just have to wash the exterior. Can you come back in 30 minutes? You can store your luggage downstairs.” “Fine, by me.” I thought. There was a COOP supermarket right next door, so I thought it would be a good idea to do a little reconnaissance for tomorrow’s shopping expedition. I wandered up and down the aisles for a while until it was time to head back. I picked up the car and started for my night’s lodging, “La Locanda della Ribollita.”

La Locanda della Ribollita

My car was a little black Lancia, which I immediately baptized the Hobbit car. I hadn’t driven a stick in quite a while, but it came back quickly. The hotel was only 5km from the rental office, right near a major exit off the autostrada. I drove past the hotel a few times, before I actually found it. It was very quaint and the woman at the reception could not have been friendlier. She even helped me muscle my bag up the stairs to the first floor where my room was. When she let me in, I had to stifle my surprise. The room was a throw-back to the kind of hotel I first used to stay in when I was a poor student in Italy. Clean as a whistle, but only the bare necessities. For one night, who cares? I was more interested in dinner, since I had eaten nothing but a sandwich since leaving Ireland.

Pappardelle al sugo di cinghiale

At 7:30 sharp, I bolted down the stairs, but then strolled peacefully into the dining room. A nice young man (the owner’s son?) showed me to my table and brought the menu. It was a typical Tuscan menu. I ordered the mixed crostini, pappardelle with wild boar sauce, and sliced steak with arugula. And what wine to have? The young waiter clearly new his stuff and steered me to a Rosso di Montalcino, which turned out to be very nice. As always when I have my first meal I Italy, my eyes are definitely bigger than my stomach. By the time my main course came, I was struggling. I gave it my best shot, though, and I did pretty well. I toddled upstairs and fell into bed. I slept like a log.