Tainted love.

I am sure that we are sleeping on the hardest bed in Tuscany. It feels like stone bedrock covered with a sheet. For the last six nights we have woken up, time and time again throughout the night with achey limbs and clickey joints. This bed is essentially an old age virtual reality synthesiser.

Now I don’t want to whinge too much, but the bed has tainted our week in Tuscany. When I asked Michael what he thought I should blog about, he yawned. I yawned back. We just aren’t getting enough kip.

We thought we’d found a solution to my travel sickness on Wednesday. I would take the wheel. I was naively convinced that it couldn’t be all that difficult.

I only hit one thing.

Just a car; side mirror to side mirror, no damage done (to our car, I was too traumatised to stop) but I still hear Mick’s voice sometimes... “you’re too close, too close! TOO CLOSE!!!” *THUNK*

At least it wasn’t a puppy, right?

So, yes we are in Tuscany, staying in an otherwise lovely villa just outside of Chianti. The region is home to dirt roads, terracotta sunsets, Florence, loud Americans on vaca and a vast and mouth-watering selection of local food and wine specialities.

One of these I experienced last night. Out to dinner in Siena, I ordered Papardelle con Tartufo (it’s white truffle season FYI). As the dish was served Mick and I locked eyes and exchanged a “wow that’s a whole lot of truffle” look. Then the waiter returned to the table, at first we thought he had a parmesan grater but he proceeded to micro-plane sliver after sliver of whole fresh truffle over the already monumental pile. We had to stifle our smuggles (smug giggles) as we guestimated what the dish would cost to prepare and purchase in Melbourne.

I believe I acquired a taste for them way back when I first visited Tuscany with Ma & Pa. Excerpt from E-vine 1993.


Tuscan cheese on toast
A villa in Greve in Chianti. Our hosts, the Anichinis, invited us to dinner and offered an entrée of what looked like grilled cheese on toast. Absolutely delicious, and my ravenous eight year old daughter scoffed three or four pieces in a couple of minutes. I asked Signora Anichini for the recipe. 'First you lightly grill the bread, then drizzle a little olive oil on it, then you add generous shavings of fresh white truffles..." 

We drank:

Castel Giocondo, Brunello di Montalcino 2005. C- brick edge, heart of ruby red, N- anise and red capsicum, P- dry and velvety with just ripe strawberries and a herbal finish

Always look on the bright side of life.

We are just back to the cottage after spending the afternoon in Troyes. A picturesque town (aren’t they all?) that claims in all of its tourist hype to be shaped like a Champagne cork. To both Mick and I it had a more phallic silhouette.

It was the birthplace of two popes (maybe that’s why they went with the cork) and in 13.2 square kilometers it has one Cathedral, one Basilica and seven churches. "He's not the messiah. He's a very naughty boy!"

Slim alleys and roads are bordered by wooden framed buildings, three and four storeys high and painted in beautiful sundrenched hues. Très magnifique!

Now that we are in self-catering mode we set out yesterday to create a portable pantry or Movable Feast, if you will. Our local supermarché is Carrefours in a neighbouring town. Carrefour’s is like a blend of a K-mart, Coles and Liquorland all in together. It’s a shame our GPS couldn't help us out inside, we found it far more difficult to navigate in the store than on the local roads.

After we had loaded up a sizeable trolley of essentials, we made our way to the busy registers. We could feel a sense of dread coming on. It’s a certain type of dread reserved for those attempting to communicate with someone in a language that is different from their own. The feeling mounted as we got closer to the cashier, though we were still halfway to the front of the queue.

Just then, a woman sidles up to the line and joins it two spaces in front of us. She just joined the line! With no-one else looking like they had any concerns with this outrageous behaviour I spoke up (in broken French) “excusé moi madame” gesturing to the growing queue behind me. She looked at me in surprise (and a hint of hostility) and spoke quickly in French. I still have no idea what she said, but as my cheeks went red and the other shoppers tuned into listen, she placed her hands on her pregnant belly and gestured to a sign above the register.

Yes folks, I had tried to boot a pregnant woman out of a “priority lane”. My shame and embarrassment scale went through the roof. Merde!

At least she wasn't blind.

On the road again.

Sitting on the bed in Arroyo Grande, watching the hundredth episode of Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations, eating fresh mango, papaya and pineapple salad and planning our winery tour of Paso Robles for tomorrow. Don't be jealous. We are miserable. Seriously.

*wink*

A big thank-you to all of those who receive the blog via email. I appreciate the fact that not one of you pointed out my grammatical errors. My faithful proof-reader had already crashed for the evening and I was at the point of having to pin my eyelids up with bobby pins.

One thing I forgot to include yesterday was an amusing conclusion Mick and I came to on the drive out of Yosemite. Our combined knowledge of the US wilderness and it's wild inhabitants is directly linked to the number and variety of American cartoons we watched as children. Woody Woodpecker, Heckle & Jeckle, Mac & Tosh and the Looney Tunes family. These shows probably set the groundwork for our developing funny bones as well.

So, to the point, today was another driving day. From the Sierra Nevada ranges West back to the coast. A comfortable 300 miles (482km).

We both enjoy the open road and the Californian "dust bowl" was stark but dazzling. Undulating ranges, bereft of trees as far as the eye can see. The dry pastures glowed like golden velvet. The flatlands are planted with uniform rows of corn, almonds and stone fruit. They were irrigated in a manner strange to my eye. The trees appeared to be flooded, water a foot or more up their trunks. Not something I've seen back home.

Off to bed now. Sitting in a car all day is draining.