(Tuscany, Italy)...

(Tuscany, Italy)…The road, the Via Empolese in Cerbaia, that goes alongside the sublime Villa il Poggiale near the small village of San Casciano Val di Pesa seems always to be busy, a small mystery to me, but a step off it onto one of the side roads leads to a nether world (see photo) of olive fields, vineyards, sun-kissed Tuscan farmhouses, narrowing lanes and grassy driveways marshaled by Black redstarts. In November, the smell of olives perfumes the air, and half-hidden men armed with long poles and large blankets move along groves and, their modus operandi escaping me, select trees from which to strip off fruit. The next day I visited the Fattoria di Maiano (www.fattoriadimaiano.com/en) to see where some of these olives end up. On the other side of Florence, just south of Fiesole, the Miari Fulcis family, made counts and countesses (the current head is a countess, Contessa Lucrezia Miari Fulcis dei Principi Corsini) centuries ago, run this fattoria. It’s the largest farm in the area, and produces the delicious Laudemio olive oil (other oil manufacturers also market their wares with this name, as a collective; www.laudemio.it). Their house—well, mansion—possesses a columned courtyard, a terrace overlooking mazelike topiary, a church, Spinello Aretino’s fresco, La Madonna della Misericordia, and an olive press, called a frantoio in Italian. A tap gushed oil, and you are welcome to dip a finger in the flow. Parts of the movie adaptation of E.M. Forster’s novel A Room with a View were filmed in the main dining room.
One of the countess’ relatives was Lorenzo Corsini, who became Pope Clement XII in 1730. He was responsible for the façade of San Giovanni in Laterano, which is Rome’s cathedral (St. Peter’s is the Vatican’s), and the construction of the Trevi Fountain. Two Benedicts, XIII and XIV, bookended his papacy (I loved writing this sentence). Another relative was St. Andrew Corsini, who died in 1374, was Bishop of Fiesole and once floated over the field of the 1440 battle of Anghiari, which is the subject of the “Lost Leonardo,” a painting by Leonardo da Vinci that has, obviously, disappeared. Some believe it is “hiding” beneath a Giorgio Vasari painting, which, if true, will itself become “lost.” In San Giovanni in Laterano, there is a chapel built in St. Andrew's honour by Clement XII, which obviously was not a coincidence.
Back at the ochre-yellow Villa il Pogialle (www.villailpoggiale.it), I marvelled at never finding my way from my room—Room 1—to anywhere I wanted to go. It was fantastic to get slightly lost and discover new sitting rooms, the kitchen, the back door, the side terrace, etc. It, too, had a sense of mystery about it, which was added to by it being administered by a diminutive Scottish woman from Selkirk.
The road to Florence passes by the village of Pozzolatico and the basilica of San Miniato al Monte (St. Minias on the Mountain), which gives one of the best views of Florence’s Duomo and Campanile. St. Minias was a survivor. The Roman Emperor Trajan Decius disliked him and threw him to the lions, which refused to eat him, so the pontifex maximus decided to take things into his own hands and have the man beheaded. Even this did not stop Minias, who coolly picked up his head and walked up the hill to where his church now stands. He should use such immortal skills to clear the “entertainers” away from another scenic overview of Florence, along the same road, which include an utterly incongruous Chilean pipe band and two Native American dancing “shamans” selling Kachina dolls. Perhaps this is just our new global world, for wandering up the slope, on the auspicious date of 11/11/11 (Nov. 11, 2011) was a newly married Chinese couple surrounded by Chinese friends. The church has some ornate interior decoration, which extends between small details of knights wearing conically shaped helmets while attacking dragons to large frescos completed by Aretino. The exterior stairs leading to the basilica also are dramatic and reminded me slightly (although these stairs lead straight up) of those at Bom Jesus do Monte in Braga, Portugal—probably just because both were coloured white, either of whitewash or Carrera marble.
Back to Pozzolatico, we took the vegetables we had purchased in Florence’s San Ambroglio market and started to prepare lunch at the expansive I Tre Pini (www.ristoranteitrepini.it) restaurant, which is owned by the marvellous named Libero Saraceni (“Free Saracen”). I was in charge of the tomato tapenade soup, and I also helped make ravioli. All of this was possible because I had the great fortune of being on a trip organised by Trafalgar Tours (www.trafalgar.com/usa/bemyguest) on, specifically, its Be My Guest progam, which opens usually closed doors and permits travellers to utterly savour the tastes and notions of a region’s life. Normally, I avoid group tours, but I was so busy, laughing and learning on this trip, none of the usual group tat—monotone guide voices, instantly forgotten facts, half-stabs at visiting anywhere, etc.—was able to seep in. And joy of joys, while we cooked, there was red wine and fried courgette flowers to sip and munch on.
Stomach filled, I investigate Florence. The exterior of the Duomo is quite beautiful, as are the Gates of Paradise on the Battistero di San Giovanni, which is where Dante was baptized. It is a short walk to the Ponte Vecchio, but I’d rather look at that bridge from the adjacent Ponte Santa Trìnita, which was destroyed by the Nazis in Aug. 1944, and see the Vecchio’s colours and shapes reflected in the River Arno, rather than the reflections in the tacky gold on display in its tacky gold shops. Vasari, as well as painting, also built the Vasari Corridor, which connects the Ponte Vecchio with the Uffizi Palace in Florence—just another of the connections that make history and modern life here fascinating and palpable.