The next morning, we drove several kilometers south to the city of Viterbo to meet Paul, who was arriving by train from Rome in the early afternoon. We did not know how long the trip would take, so we left early and took a scenic route along Lake Bolsena. Arriving before noon, we located the train station which was just outside the city walls and walked into the city to pass the time until the train arrived. We visited a few shops and stopped for a quick lunch at a sidewalk cafe. On our way back to the station, we passed a stand selling porchetta (roasted pork). We regretted that we had already eaten, but bought a sandwich for Paul, figuring he would be hungry after his long trip. The train was late, making us nervous since we had no way of communicating any changes in plans. But, it finally pulled into the station and, to our relief, Paul got off. We headed back to Asciano, with Paul enjoying his porchetta sandwich.

The next morning, while Paul slept off his jetlag, Fred and I went into town to pick up some food for a picnic lunch which we intended to enjoy during the day’s travels further into the surrounding countryside. We had coffee at a corner bar, then stopped at the forno (bakery) for some rolls, the alimentari (grocer) for fruit and cheese, and finally at the salumeria (deli) for some prociutto and salami. This was a far cry from our supermarkets back in the States. We were feeling quite pleased with ourselves for shopping like the locals, until our final stop, where the meats were priced by the netto, and we had no idea what that meant. We managed the situation by requesting the number of slices we wanted of each, but we realized that we certainly weren’t going to be mistaken for native Italians.

Shortly before noon, the three of us set out. We were fairly confident that the alarm system had been conquered, so our first stop was the Abbey. The cloister had outstanding frescoes depicting the life of St. Benedict. A robed monk explained the scenes until a bell tolled calling the monks to prayer before lunch, cutting our visit short. We drove on, soon coming to the walled hilltop town of Montalcino, which we had previously visited and thought Paul would enjoy. We stopped to eat our lunch at a park with nice views. Afterward, we walked around the small town, but everything was shut up tight for the long mid-day siesta, a time-honored Italian tradition, one to which we Americans certainly can’t relate. We realized that in future excursions, we needed to get an earlier start.

Returning home, we spent the rest of the day walking around the farm, trying to identify what we saw growing there. Every bit of space was efficiently utilized, with artichokes and beans neatly planted between the rows of olive trees. There was no sign of anyone tending the crops, since only the hot sun need be at work during the height of the growing season. While we walked, we speculated about Maria, the caretaker. We had become intrigued by this woman who we had seen at the farm from dawn to dusk every day. I had noticed her being brought to work on the back of a tiny three-wheeled truck that morning. At first, I was appalled that anyone would treat an elderly woman like that, but then I realized the probable alternative was having her walk since the cab of the vehicle was only big enough for the driver. We couldn’t help wondering what Maria’s situation was, but our curiosity was not going to be satisfied.

We planned to visit Arezzo the following day, and this time we managed to get started early. When we arrived in the town, it was market day, and we couldn’t resist a little bargain hunting. Arezzo is noted for its antiques, so we hoped to find something special. The market held no treasures for us, however, so we moved on to the town’s antique shops, admiring much but buying little. After shopping, we visited the medieval center of the city. There was a beautiful church, Pieve di Santa Maria, and the sloping main square, Piazza Grande, was lined with interesting buildings.

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