We took the train from Rome to Florence. Once again, props to Italy for their public transportation system. Anyhow, once there we walked what felt like three miles to pick up a Ford rental car. Yup, you read that right. A Ford. In Italy. Go figure. The good news is that it was the easiest car to spot when we parked, as it was taller than all the rest. The bad news: have you *tried* to park a bigger car in Europe? Yeah, so glad it wasn’t me doing the driving. Woot to The Husband.
From Florence we drove to Lamporecchio, a city in the Tuscany countryside. Up a zig zag mountain road that reminded me what fear really feels like. We stayed at a proper resort, complete with a pool, breakfast, a funny little concierge man whose enunciation of “Okay” will stick with me forever, in a large two room suite. If you use the words “two” and “suite” loosely.
The pool was a big deal for the tiny one. Who isn’t really tiny and I should probably just call her Little Bear instead. There, that’s better. She swam for hours every day. Here’s a view from the pool. Felt like you could see forever if the haze would lift. Which it did not during our visit. Incidentally? I was digging the European swimsuits the men wore by the end of this trip. If women’s choices are limited mostly to skimpy barely there things, why not the same for men too?
But most importantly there were pomegranates growing! I have a memory of hiding behind a pomegranate tree when I was growing up. Could have been in Eastern Washington or in Concord, California. It’s a foggy memory, that one. We’d pick them and tear them apart, eating until we looked like murder victims with reddish-brown stains all over our faces, hands and clothes. Fun to share what they look like growing with the kiddlings.
Lamporecchio is a chill place. We mostly just stayed at the hotel, swam, walked around this very hilly town with narrow streets, or drove into the bigger town to do laundry. That was where we found the lavanderia with washing machines that came pre-loaded with laundry detergent and fabric softener. One day we went to Pisa then onwards to the Mediterranean, which I’ll share with you on a different post. Here’s what our hotel looked like – the orange one in the upper left hand corner with the elevator structure shooting up through the roof in front.
We found this delicious soda:And these very delicious ketchup flavored sticks:Next up we saw actual olives on actual olive trees. Some of you are laughing at me right now. I know you are. California was my home for a good portion of the years I spent growing up, and there were olive trees *everywhere.* And yet, here I am, an adult and up until this trip I couldn’t tell you just what it looked like when a tree was fruited. Is that even a phrase? I like it, so I’ll keep it. So here you go:I’ll wrap up this blog post with a pic of alcohol we found in the dining room. So, remember that crazy story about Joey Buttafuaco? I don’t know why but my brain had decided that was a made up name. (He’s the one who had an affair with 16-year-old Amy Fischer who ended up shooting Joey’s wife in the face, if memory isn’t pulling that one up for you.) Anyhow, here’s your Buttafuaco alcohol.Now you too can say it’s a real name.
Next up is Pisa and the Mediterranean.