We left Grosseto in warm sunshine and the glow of yesterday's success in finding a splendid new producer of extraordinary Sangioveses (no details now, save that these people do so many of the right things in the vineyards and leave the wine pretty much alone in the cellar except for racking a few times). We had a tasting in a remote eastern part of Chianti and then, after having filled the tank to the tune of 52 euros, ground to a complete stop on the A1 autostrada south of Florence as we made our way to the thriving burg of Bucine.
This, mind you, was the second breakdown of an Avis rental car in two trips. Another Italian make -- the first was an Alfa, this one a Fiat Croma. Yes, Fix It Again Tony. FIAT. The clutch failed. We were excitingly close to mammoth tractor trailers whizzing by at about 120 kph. I was on the phone with Avis employees (training motto: Just say no) a great number of times, losing my good manners in the language less of Dante than a howling member of the cursing classes.
Then the carro attrezzi (flatbed) came and we got to ride high as pimps in the car, on top of the flatbed. The driver had to drive about 30 minutes south in order to turn around and take us to the Incisa toll plaza a little south of Florence proper. When he passed through the toll booth we too had to hand over our toll ticket and pay a euro for the less than 3 km we actually traveled under our own power.
The rather arrogant toll-taker looked angry when I said, as I glared down at him from atop the flatbed, in a voice dripping with cold sarcasm, "E' stato un gran piacere." It's been a great pleasure.
A van driver was waiting for us at the Incisa exit. We transferred a shamefully large number of bags and wine samples to the van, which I wished we could rent, and went all the way to the center of the city to pick up the new car. That was 65 euros, which of course Avis paid for. (I should have asked for the one euro toll too.)
Then we had to double back to the ratty southern fringes of Florence, where we got a last-minute deal at a Sheraton. Cheap rooms with points; at 22 euros the slow Internet connection costs almost as much as the room. Where it's 100F and the toilet doesn't flush after you've deposited your used cinghiale. The life of a commercial traveler, ladies and gents.
Speaking of cinghiale -- I truly love wild boar, occasionally. I've discovered that I don't much care for it every day, not to mention twice a day. Yes, between Sunday lunch and Monday dinner we devoured the tuskèd suine three times. I could still taste it until we stopped for a light lunch (a pound of pasta) at a roadside dive today at 2 PM. We resorted to club sandwiches tonight.
What's that? "How could you?" After 10 days in Italy you begin to dread the obligatory prosciutto crudo and cheese plates, panini and all the rest of it. The big courses. You crave to snag a fast sandwich and continue on your merry way.
More Tuscany tomorrow and then, I think, to Rome for a meeting and summative work, which will include a tasting of various samples collected on the way. Then Naples, then Friuli, then the glamorous Marriott near the Venice airport and, at last, slushy New York.
By the way, in Tuscany the almonds are blooming, the vineyards are speckled with wee white flowers and quindi I am definitely not fed up enough to recite "Oh, to be in England!" or even "The Sidewalks of Noo Yawk." Magari!
Which is as good a way as any to say fuhgeddabaddit in Italian.
Naples? There is a great wine tasting on Thursday at Città del Gusto in Bagnoli...
Posted by: karen | 03/03/2010 at 12:00 AM
won't arrive till friday night
Posted by: Strappo | 03/03/2010 at 05:40 PM