ANECDOTES FROM TUSCANY - PART two

 

Ged Cleugh is one of our Producers. His never-ending research into the world's top tourist resorts has left him able to recite the hotels of Europe at will. A keen snowboarder, Ged takes to the slopes each season working his way through the world's finest resorts in search of "big air".

In the second part of his tour of Tuscany Ged visits Chianti, Siena, and has one prosecco too many.

Another day, another crisp dawn. Back in the Punto we pencilled San Gimignano in for lunch before driving on through the Chianti hinterland bound for much hyped Siena. Opting once more for country lanes, we enjoyed delicious rural vistas. Nearing the Elsa valley, rolling hills flush with grapevines combed their way as far as the eye could see. Industrial silos were the only blot on the landscape but remembering that they were full to the brim with the region's lifeblood - Chianti Classico wine - we were willing to put up with them.

Approaching San Gimignano was fantastic; the towers afforded us only fleeting glances as we pulled into one of the lower car parks. Walking the steep alleys towards the centre of this UNESCO world heritage site is delightful as the 11th and 13th century skyscrapers reach to the skies before you. A symbol of wealth, it's touted that they once numbered 72. However, a mere 14 remain. Exploring this medieval hill town is a pleasure and there is thankfully little evidence of the Black Death that once ravaged the area. The associated smells of saffron and Vernaccia wine fill the air and prove the ideal accompaniment to wandering the Fortress of Montestaffoli, checking out the 14th and 15th century art in the town's museums, and picking up a few souvenirs from the many tat shops.

Back on the road, Siena beckoned. This had been hyped as the highlight of my Tuscan tour but call me a Medici-loving gothic philistine; I declare it's thoroughly overrated. The town is built on three main hills and there are a plethora of lanes for which the word steep simply doesn't suffice. I challenge anyone to navigate one of these in icy conditions! The rocky rungs that run down the sides of these roads have a tendency to disappear every now and then, and even in my rubber soles I treaded gingerly for the most part.

Yes, without doubt Siena has more than its fair share of world class sights; the Palazzo Pubblico on Piazza del Campo, which is overlooked by the imposing Torre del Mangia (although I couldn't help seeing the similarities between it and some buildings from my university in Birmingham). Another World Heritage site, The Duomo, seemed impressive but was undergoing major renovation during my visit. The painted scaffold fresco was an effective substitute but I'd wager the original is better. There are many, many other places to see and explore, and I navigated my way through most of them, but I still couldn't take to Italy's best preserved medieval city the same way I took to Florence.

As night fell, this famous university town's nightlife beckoned but first we set out to sample the local cuisine. I'd read tantalising reviews about some of the nearby eateries. One in particular, a vaulted cellar, really whetted my appetite, and so dressed to the nines and map in hand we faced a perilous scramble up a steep alley in leather shoes. Bravely conquered, we wandered the streets browsing menus. All seemed a trifle quiet so we continuously moved on in the hope of finding something livelier. An hour and three miles later, long after giving up finding the cavernous place we'd set out for, we were back in one of the very first restaurants I'd seen. Determined that this was to be our final choice we marched in and accepted a table at once. That was our first mistake. Normally I would, of course, always carefully check the menu outside before committing to a restaurant. However for some reason (probably related to my being exhausted after my gargantuan romp through Siena's innards) I didn't.

The menu arrived, hand written and exclusively in Italian. Unfortunately I'd left my phrasebook in my hotel room, and the hosts knew less English than I did Italian. My sister was no help. I tried to translate the odd word; armed with one year of Latin acquired some thirteen years previously. Eventually I gesticulated ourselves steaks and a bottle of Chianti before settling back and tucking into the bread. Laid out in front of me was what looked like a large bowl of coarse black pepper. I pinched some off and scoffed it with a generous chunk of bread. Gagging and coughing I removed the coarse sand and bread mix from my mouth as inconspicuously (not) as possible. Call me picky, but I feel it's inappropriate to position an ambiguous-looking ashtray next to the saltcellar. Having regained some composure, I supped through our caraffa until the steak arrived. Bistecca alla Fiorentina, a choice cut of prime beef, grilled 'til medium and served thick and juicy. A main course right up my street. Unfortunately, that's all that came. Side dishes are just that and ordered separately. Steak it was then. Literally.

After dinner we headed to the bars alone only to be reminded how far removed Italian evening culture is to our own British one. So we ended up in the Irish pub.

The final full day of my trip and it was time to hit the cellars. En route to Florence for the last night and our dawn flight, we stopped off in not one but two of the areas' best-known wine producers, Greve and Castellina. Both were pretty and laid back. Castellina came first and sported a wine store that boasted some 14,000 bottles, one from nearly every year of the last century and more. I couldn't leave without picking up a tasty Montepulciano (one of my favourites) that was bottled the very same year I was born. A-couple-of-bottles-for-presents later, we were back behind the wheel and bearing down on Greve. Here we sampled some tasty pasta al fresco and visited the famed local butcher, which was closed. Not to be rushed out of this sleepy town, we followed signs to a wine tasting centre and in the process unearthed an absolute treat.

Set in a cellar was a highly mechanised wine tasting centre, and it was great fun. Charging up a credit-esque card with some Euros, you could choose from hundreds of Italian and Tuscan wines, oils, balsamic vinegars and even local meats. Paying by the tasting, the price is related to the value of the wine but it still seemed the perfect way to try out those £100 bottles alongside a few of the plonks. Sadly with the Punto hanging around my neck, and wanting to stay the right side of the law, I had to temper my thirst with a few choice slurps and then bolt before I could drink something I would later regret.

Safely and legally back in Florence I rounded off the trip with a triumphant bottle of Prosecco at the rooftop cafe of a department store. The terrace bar overlooked the Piazza della Repubblico (the largest piazza in town) as well as the finest of Florentine skylines, the Cupola of the Duomo being especially prominent. Wanting to savour the backdrop we ordered a second bottle of fizz. It was our last night after all and we were walking home. The waiter seemed less impressed by our thirst and promptly brought out some accompanying toasted sandwiches on the house "to stop you falling over". Or was he more worried we'd fall "off the house". It was a rather long way down.

I left Tuscany with a smile knowing that I would certainly return. This delightful part of Europe boasts hidden wonders far superior to the better-known tourist traps. My late autumn visit seemed to have been timed well; warm in the days, cool in the evenings and more than enough room to get around without too much disturbance. I have heard many horror stories of sweltering heat, three-hour queues and a burgeoning mass of tourists that scourge these towns in the summer months. My advice. Visit Tuscany in spring or autumn, hire a car and throw the map out of the window, get thoroughly lost and love every minute of it.


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May 2006