^UP^
Wednesday 12th June
Following the rule of no driving far on successive days, I stayed at
home. In the morning, I went to the garden and finished my Scientific
American. Franco appeared, and the garden room acquired a bottle of
Chianti, a smaller one of vin santo, and a packet of cantuccini (for
dunking in the vin santo). I decided I'd have to use it some night to
show appreciation.
In the afternoon, I was initially thinking of just walking down the
short distance into the village, and maybe having a beer, but then I
thought of the sanctuary of the Madonna at Rivalto. I had seen the
signs to it when I walked up to Rivalto on a previous day, but hadn't
bothered to look for it. But after my trip downhill to the other one,
Sanctuario della Carmine, I'd looked it up on the internet, and found
photos of the Rivalto one too, and it looked like a quaint, pretty
building in a woodland clearing.
It was quite warm, but I knew Rivalto was an easy walk, about half an
hour, although all up hill. It turned out that the church was almost as
far again up the hill, making my outing more strenuous than I had
intended. Still, it was worth it to see the place.
I was quite dripping when I got home though, so had a shower before
dinner. How civilized.
Thursday 13th June
I thought I'd go and look at something local. Casciano
Terme, for
example. It's only about ten kilometres from Chianni, and I'd gone past
several times, but never looked in. I'd seen a handy car park in
passing too: I parked the car, even though there was, allegedly, a one
hour limit. The sign showed one of those clock things which you get
in
Italian cars to show your arrival time. Well, I didn't have one, but
neither did the car beside me, and anyway, with the car park mostly
empty, I didn't think enforcement was likely.
I struck off on foot into town. It was around four o'clock, and very
quiet. They really do take the siesta idea seriously in this part of
Italy. From one until five, shops are closed, and no citizens are
abroad. I found a park bench in the shade and played with my
phone's
GPS for a while; took a photo or two. Casciano's main piazza is quite
handsome.
When I got bored, I took a circuit of the adjacent 'Terme' part,
because I saw from a map on a signpost that there was a bit of greenery
attached. I actually walked right round it, a bit shy of going in
because there wasn't a park gate: you had to go via a building. But
then I was the whole way round, and I decided "What the hell" and
went
in to the main entrance. Walking as if I knew where I was going, I
passed through an entire hospital-like complex, quickly spotting the
signs for the outdoor swimming pool. Thermal springs are very much
quack medicalised in Italy. The people I passed in Reception were
probably queueing up for"cures:.
I was also shy of lingering near the pool, being
fully-dressed and
carrying a camera, I feared being taken for a dirty old man. (I know
that, technically, that's correct). But I carried on
into the park part
and had a pleasant interlude under the trees near a fountain. Then some
teens came in and bathed and sported in the fountain (it was quite hot,
mid twenties) until an employee came out and chastised them, and they
resorted, dripping, to lying on the lawn.
I went back to the car, finding the car park mostly full, but no
consequences of my violation, and set off for my next target. The
community of Lari has two parts, one the modern settlement along the
main road, which I'd already passed through a couple of times, and one
up on the hill. The road signs showed the latter as Lari with a
pictogram of a castle, and I'd checked on the internet and found that
it was a stonking big one.
I followed the signs, along a single-track road, and
came to the
extraordinary town itself. The castle sits on the peak, being the most
recent remaining structure from a series of fortifications that go back
to primordial times. The current one is mostly of Medici design and
construction. The town that grew up around the castle has some striking
pallazzi, too grand for such a small place, and winding medieval
streets.
Up until the 1990s, the castle itself had been colonised by locals
who had illegally turned corridors, rooms and dungeons into houses for
themselves. Then the "improving" faction took over, transforming it
eventually into a tourist attraction, although I can't believe that the
throughput of tourists is particularly large. The town does seem to be
thriving though, considering how cut-off it is.
When I departed, I took a wider road out, which wasn't directly back
home. In fact, when I checked, Ponsacco was quite close, which made
it
reasonable to call in to the Co-op for some additional supplies.
Friday 14th June
The "Ferie delle Messi" is an
annual celebration in medieval stylie in
San Gimignano, the central event being a vigorous kind of joust or
tourney, where pairs of horsemen (or women) race in opposite
directions
in a tight, rectangular course. On the final straight they are
galloping towards one another, and the winner is the one who knocks a
steel helm over with a baton so that it ends up pointing in his
direction. It's called the Giostra del Bastoni, the Game of Batons.
With the field being smaller than a tennis court, and the spectators
pushing in close, it's a struggle for the horses to get round the
corners, but each heat is over in just a few seconds.
The actual festival runs over three days, with the joust and the
presentation of the Golden Sword being on the third day, the Sunday.
The rest of the time is taken up with medieval music, dance,
flag-juggling, and the consumption of bread, wine and pig bought from
medieval stalls.
Things were to kick off at
six, (that's Italian six, i.e. seven) and
after a relaxing day doing nothing much, I hit the road at around five.
It's just about an hour's
drive from Chianni. Small roads, not busy. I
probably had enough petrol for the return drive, but I'm a worrier, so
I found the station I remembered and bought twenty euros woth as
insurance, before finding the free car park I'd used a couple of days
before. About ten minutes' walk into the town centre: not bad.
After sitting in the Piazza del
Duomo for a while to take in the
atmosphere, I walked up to the fortress on the hill, where the
festivities were to start. It
was after six, and nothing much was
happening, but I was able to sit in the shade with a cup of wine and a
porchetta roll, quite happy. As I was buying them, I was called on to
help two English, non-Italian-speaking students, one of whom was
vegetarian. The event isn't set up to deal with vegetarians at all, so
the poor chap could only have bread, which at least they gave him for
nothing.
The first part of the actual celebrations was the arrival of the town's
flag troupe, accompanied by a German medieval band of trumpets and
drums. San Gimignano is twinned with Meersburg, and they exchange
medieval re-enactors. The capitano of the flag-wavers had developed a
juggling routine with four of the large flags. He was very good. Then
there was some medieval dancing by the comely ladies of San Gimignano,
very pleasant to watch. One of the tunes they danced to was the
morris-dance one by Mike Oldfield of Tubular Bells fame, which I think
is not strictly medieval.
I had another wine and pig (my
only dinner that evening) and watched
the next event, some sword fighting by re-enactors. Then the band
played again. With horns and drums all you can play is fanfares and
marching music, and it did begin to sound all the same after a while.
When they had all done their thing it must have been after nine
o'clock, and they marched off
down into town. The spectators and I
followed, and for a moment it was magical to be walking down the
twisting streets following ladies in medieval dresses.
There was to be more goings-on in the piazza from ten. By about
ten-thirty, I realised it was going to be rather similar to the earlier
stuff in the castle, so I bid San Gimignano farewell. I would have
liked to see the ladies dance once more though.
On the drive back, there was one driver ahead of me for quite a
while,
slowing me down just slightly. At the roadworks, he stopped on the red
light; I didn't and just drove around him and on. It was moderately
safe, since I could see almost to the far end of the contraflow, and it
seemed like the Italian thing to do.
Saturday 15th June
I went down to the garden in the morning, and, excitingly, saw a snake.
I heard the rustling sound and looked round, but the snake, clearly
embarrassed by the attention, first froze and then retraced his path
into a drain beneath the patio. I think he was a rat snake, about a
metre long.
According to a tourist leaflet, Chianni's market day is
Saturday. And
so it was, there was one
(admittedly fairly large) fruit and veg stall.
I didn't buy anything, but went over to the bank and again, it refused
to give me any money. I mentioned this when I met Franco on the way
back to the house, and he wanted to lend me some money to tide me over.
No, thank you, I replied. I have a twenty, and I can go over to one of
the neighbouring villages later and use a machine there. He was
insistent, but I still politely refused. He did say he'd left me up
some lettuce and rocket by the door, so I thanked him for that.
About fifteen minutes later, as I was thinking about having some lunch.
Franco came to the door with a fifty-euro note and we had practically
an argument in broken Italian as he insisted I take it. I eventually
gave in. I was a bit cross, but what can you do?
In the later afternoon, I
drove over to Terriciola, about ten
kilometres, having first checked with Google Street View to make
sure they really did have a bank and
ATM. Two, in fact. The first one I
tried gave me money. Then I walked around the village and found that
they were having a little craft fair on an ecological theme, including
a dinner later that night with "food from kilometre zero" only. Local
produce, that is.
I didn't stay for dinner. Later, that evening, I walked
up to the
restaurant I hadn't yet tried. All the way up the road, blue and white
balloons had been tied to
lamposts, and I could hear music from the
garden of a big house. When I came parallel with it I saw that there
were more balloons on the gate and also a big baby-blue rosette with
the familiar cartoon image of the stork delivering. Obviously they were
having a party for a new baby boy.
At the Locando del Gallo, I
could see through the window that every
table was set, inclding bottles of wine. When I asked if the restaurant
was open, the answer was yes,
but we're totally full, sorry. I guess
the guests at the party just across the road were coming for dinner too.
I walked back into town,
deciding on the way that I'd go to the Vecchie
Cantine rather than the much cheaper Regina Margherita pizzeria. I had
a nice dinner, splashed out on a bottle of the Santa Cristina, which
turned out to be a 13.5% alc wine, and walked unsteadily up to La
Boschetta for the Saturday evening hoedown. It was awful again, with
Teorema Band, Rocky and Lisa
that is, doing the synthetic Italian
dancing music. I had a couple of beers to pass the time and went home.
Sunday 16th June
I woke with a hangover, unsurprisingly, and had to attack it with two
paracetamol and two ibuprofen. (I don't actually know if the two drugs'
action is cumulative. I should look that up.) I was planning a return
trip to San Gimignano to see
the end of the Ferie, getting there early
afternoon.
For some reason, I didn't really feel like having
lunch, and set off
without. San Gimignano was pretty busy with tourists, but not
opressively so. The majority were probably Italian, and probably from
not too far away, but of course you heard the usual English, German,
French and Dutch being spoken.
There were a good many costumed participants around as well. Somehow,
it amuses me when someone in medieval dress does something
anachronistic, like smoking, or using a mobile, or riding a scooter.
There were stalls in Piazza della Cisterna, and up the side of the
Cathedral (technically, it isn't) in Piazza delle Erbe, and the usual
wine, bread and pig stall under the arches in Piazza del Duomo. I was
feeling peckish by that time, but I thought I'd go up to the stall in
the Fortezza.
Unfortunately, it wasn't in
operation on the Sunday. But a shady grove
beside the castle was where they'd parked the horses, and I got to see
the fine-looking beasts for the first time. I don't know much about
horses, but I think they have two types, fancy big war horses with
feathery feet for show, and smaller, wiry ones for the competition.
I walked back in to town and bought a nice big cheese salad sandwich
with salty foccacia bread from a shop off the main piazza. Looking for
a shady place to sit down and eat it, I went into the big arched vault
which faces the church. It was being used as an ad-hoc rest stop and
changing room for the re-enactors, and I was almost the only one not in
costume. (The soundman was in civvies too.) I was surrounded by the
dancers, which was nice.
Out in the piazza, under the
full heat of the sun, the combat display
was taking place. I didn't envy the troops, in heavy helmets and chain
mail, walloping one another with their swords and big shields -- it was
a very physical activity. At the end a couple came in, panting, to
where I was sitting, and I saw that they were men of about my own age,
although obviously a lot fitter.
The next event was the girls dancing, and I went up the church steps
(packed with people) to watch.
I like it because of the romantic,
faux-medieval atmosphere, I'm not just ogling girls. Although I like
that too. According to the timetable, there was a break then, before
the big parade departed from one of the city gates to do a tour trough
the town and up to the castle. It was scheduled for five, but these
things never run to time, especially in Italy. I went to near the start
line and loitered anyway.
To my surprise, it was only ten minutes after five when the parade
began. The flag-juggling team, the German band, the horses, lords,
ladies and clergy, all filing past. But the most impressive were the
two white oxen pulling the flower-decorated cart for the May Queen,
Lady Flora, and her assistants. Now I'm moderately tall, and the
animals humped shoulder line was higher than my head. You may think
that that's a lot of bull, but I assure you it's true. The cattle were
huge but placid. Some of the horses were very frightened though,
(presumably not used to crowds
of people) and had to be constantly
controlled by their riders.
The cortege went from one end of town, through Piazza
Duomo, to the
other end, then back to the piazza and up to the fortress and the
tiltyard. I didn't follow the whole way, just waiting in the piazza and
giving them time to get up and get ready for the event. That turned out
to be a mistake, because all the best places were taken when I did
arrive to see the joust, and
between the still-fierce heat of the sun
and trees in the way, I didn't get a good view of the action. I didn't
really mind, having seen it in previous years, (and not caring who won
anyway).
In fact, I thought I'd leave the field early and find a pizzeria to
have dinner before hitting the road for home. This I did, although the
establishment descibed itself as a pizzeria-enoteca, or in translation,
the wine was pretentious but
the food wasn't. It did mean that I missed
the final ceremony of presenting the Golden Sword to the winner, and as
I discovered when I went back to the main piazza before leaving for
home, I missed some kind of extraordinary snowball fight with soft
cloth balls. The piazza was full of them.
The golden light of the setting sun was painting the towers again as I
walked back to the car. The drive home was uneventful. I stopped
obediently at the roadworks and
five cars came through in the opposite
direction.
Monday 17th June
A day with no plans, other than to buy some groceries.
I made a list.
It was pretty hot by the time I got up, but I took the computer down to
Franco's garden room, which, being semi-subterranean, was pleasantly
cool. I loaded up the previous
day's photos and so on.
Pretty late in the afternoon, but not noticeably cooler, I filled up
the water in the car's windscreen wash -- you tend to use it up, what
with dusty roads and flat insects. The inside of the car was pretty
hot, because although the guests' parking space has some shade, the sun
gets through for part of the day. When I buy a house in Italy, I
thought, I'll be sure to have a covered space for the car.
Air conditioning is an essential in a car in the European Summer, if
not so much for the British and Irish one, but I'm reluctant to use it
more than is necessary. I'd rather drive with the windows down. I
remember that the Mythbusters programme did an investigation of the
fuel economy implications of both approaches, but I forget if there was
a definite conclusion. In the little Fiat Panda I had rented this time
around, when you put the aircon on you could feel it sucking power, so
much so that the car could
barely climb steep hills, even in first gear.
I left the car with the windows down for half an hour
so that it could
reach ambient temperature and set off for the supermarket at Cappanoli.
Well, I say I set off for it, but when I turned on the TomTom sat nav,
it claimed that it was impossible to get there. It took me a few
minutes' thought to work out that I had stored the location while
sitting in the car park, and the device was too stupid to work out how
to make the final five metres
from the road into the car park, since
its map showed no access point.
I pulled over and selected a modified destination -- on the road --
which the machine was happy to direct me towards. I could have got
there unaided, of course, but it's good to have backup. This Summer,
the sat nav was showing its age though, with gaps in its knowledge
about a lot of the roundabouts and new roads around Pontedera and
Ponsacco. To say nothing of
the fact that its battery charging circuit
had burned out long ago, meaning that it would only work when plugged
in, and it had to do a cold reboot every time you started the car. A
new one for next year, I thought.
I came home with a surprisingly heavy bag of shopping, plus a smaller
one that clinked, and put all the stuff away and made dinner. For the
first time, I went to bed with all of the windows open, including the
bedroom. All were screened, so
mosquitoes were not an issue.
Tuesday 18th June
With the bedroom window wide open, the dawn chorus woke me around five,
and then the local inhabitants set to before seven, with noisy vehicles
and bikes driving past, and someone cutting undergrowth with a
brushcutter. You can't blame people getting their work done early when
it's cool. It's my schedule
that doesn't fit the climate, not theirs.
When I did get up, I could see that the sun was blasting the earth, and
even with the windows open, there was no through breeze to keep the
house cool. I had thought of going to Siena, which would be the longest
drive of this holiday, but was having doubts. Siena is beautiful, but
I'd been several times, and I had no clear idea if driving two hours
each way would be worth it.
Sloth won. I stayed indoors in the cool until after lunch, and then
into the garden to do some reading. The garden room was cooler than the
garden itself.
Having suffered the early-morning noises, at bedtime I closed the
bedroom windows and discarded the bedclothes. This turned out to be a
superior arrangement.
Next Week
^UP^
building in a woodland clearing.
I thought I'd go and look at something local. Casciano
Terme, for
example. It's only about ten kilometres from Chianni, and I'd gone past
several times, but never looked in. I'd seen a handy car park in
passing too: I parked the car, even though there was, allegedly, a one
hour limit. The sign showed one of those clock things which you get
in
Italian cars to show your arrival time. Well, I didn't have one, but
neither did the car beside me, and anyway, with the car park mostly
empty, I didn't think enforcement was likely.
I was also shy of lingering near the pool, being
fully-dressed and
carrying a camera, I feared being taken for a dirty old man. (I know
that, technically, that's correct). But I carried on
into the park part
and had a pleasant interlude under the trees near a fountain. Then some
teens came in and bathed and sported in the fountain (it was quite hot,
mid twenties) until an employee came out and chastised them, and they
resorted, dripping, to lying on the lawn.
I followed the signs, along a single-track road, and
came to the
extraordinary town itself. The castle sits on the peak, being the most
recent remaining structure from a series of fortifications that go back
to primordial times. The current one is mostly of Medici design and
construction. The town that grew up around the castle has some striking
pallazzi, too grand for such a small place, and winding medieval
streets.
The "Ferie delle Messi" is an
annual celebration in medieval stylie in
San Gimignano, the central event being a vigorous kind of joust or
tourney, where pairs of horsemen (or women) race in opposite
directions
in a tight, rectangular course. On the final straight they are
galloping towards one another, and the winner is the one who knocks a
steel helm over with a baton so that it ends up pointing in his
direction. It's called the Giostra del Bastoni, the Game of Batons.
With the field being smaller than a tennis court, and the spectators
pushing in close, it's a struggle for the horses to get round the
corners, but each heat is over in just a few seconds.
Things were to kick off at
six, (that's Italian six, i.e. seven) and
after a relaxing day doing nothing much, I hit the road at around five.
It's just about an hour's
drive from Chianni. Small roads, not busy. I
probably had enough petrol for the return drive, but I'm a worrier, so
I found the station I remembered and bought twenty euros woth as
insurance, before finding the free car park I'd used a couple of days
before. About ten minutes' walk into the town centre: not bad.
After sitting in the Piazza del
Duomo for a while to take in the
atmosphere, I walked up to the fortress on the hill, where the
festivities were to start. It
was after six, and nothing much was
happening, but I was able to sit in the shade with a cup of wine and a
porchetta roll, quite happy. As I was buying them, I was called on to
help two English, non-Italian-speaking students, one of whom was
vegetarian. The event isn't set up to deal with vegetarians at all, so
the poor chap could only have bread, which at least they gave him for
nothing.
I had another wine and pig (my
only dinner that evening) and watched
the next event, some sword fighting by re-enactors. Then the band
played again. With horns and drums all you can play is fanfares and
marching music, and it did begin to sound all the same after a while.
According to a tourist leaflet, Chianni's market day is
Saturday. And
so it was, there was one
(admittedly fairly large) fruit and veg stall.
I didn't buy anything, but went over to the bank and again, it refused
to give me any money. I mentioned this when I met Franco on the way
back to the house, and he wanted to lend me some money to tide me over.
No, thank you, I replied. I have a twenty, and I can go over to one of
the neighbouring villages later and use a machine there. He was
insistent, but I still politely refused. He did say he'd left me up
some lettuce and rocket by the door, so I thanked him for that.
I didn't stay for dinner. Later, that evening, I walked
up to the
restaurant I hadn't yet tried. All the way up the road, blue and white
balloons had been tied to
lamposts, and I could hear music from the
garden of a big house. When I came parallel with it I saw that there
were more balloons on the gate and also a big baby-blue rosette with
the familiar cartoon image of the stork delivering. Obviously they were
having a party for a new baby boy.
For some reason, I didn't really feel like having
lunch, and set off
without. San Gimignano was pretty busy with tourists, but not
opressively so. The majority were probably Italian, and probably from
not too far away, but of course you heard the usual English, German,
French and Dutch being spoken.
Unfortunately, it wasn't in
operation on the Sunday. But a shady grove
beside the castle was where they'd parked the horses, and I got to see
the fine-looking beasts for the first time. I don't know much about
horses, but I think they have two types, fancy big war horses with
feathery feet for show, and smaller, wiry ones for the competition.
I walked back in to town and bought a nice big cheese salad sandwich
with salty foccacia bread from a shop off the main piazza. Looking for
a shady place to sit down and eat it, I went into the big arched vault
which faces the church. It was being used as an ad-hoc rest stop and
changing room for the re-enactors, and I was almost the only one not in
costume. (The soundman was in civvies too.) I was surrounded by the
dancers, which was nice.
Out in the piazza, under the
full heat of the sun, the combat display
was taking place. I didn't envy the troops, in heavy helmets and chain
mail, walloping one another with their swords and big shields -- it was
a very physical activity. At the end a couple came in, panting, to
where I was sitting, and I saw that they were men of about my own age,
although obviously a lot fitter.
(packed with people) to watch.
I like it because of the romantic,
faux-medieval atmosphere, I'm not just ogling girls. Although I like
that too. According to the timetable, there was a break then, before
the big parade departed from one of the city gates to do a tour trough
the town and up to the castle. It was scheduled for five, but these
things never run to time, especially in Italy. I went to near the start
line and loitered anyway.
The cortege went from one end of town, through Piazza
Duomo, to the
other end, then back to the piazza and up to the fortress and the
tiltyard. I didn't follow the whole way, just waiting in the piazza and
giving them time to get up and get ready for the event. That turned out
to be a mistake, because all the best places were taken when I did
arrive to see the joust, and
between the still-fierce heat of the sun
and trees in the way, I didn't get a good view of the action. I didn't
really mind, having seen it in previous years, (and not caring who won
anyway).
A day with no plans, other than to buy some groceries.
I made a list.
It was pretty hot by the time I got up, but I took the computer down to
Franco's garden room, which, being semi-subterranean, was pleasantly
cool. I loaded up the previous
day's photos and so on.
I left the car with the windows down for half an hour
so that it could
reach ambient temperature and set off for the supermarket at Cappanoli.
Well, I say I set off for it, but when I turned on the TomTom sat nav,
it claimed that it was impossible to get there. It took me a few
minutes' thought to work out that I had stored the location while
sitting in the car park, and the device was too stupid to work out how
to make the final five metres
from the road into the car park, since
its map showed no access point.
With the bedroom window wide open, the dawn chorus woke me around five,
and then the local inhabitants set to before seven, with noisy vehicles
and bikes driving past, and someone cutting undergrowth with a
brushcutter. You can't blame people getting their work done early when
it's cool. It's my schedule
that doesn't fit the climate, not theirs.