Dom did a superb job with the left handed driving, on the wrong side of the road, while I navigated us out of Florence and before long we were on the S222 and marvelling at the beautiful classic Tuscan countryside of the Chianti region.

We reached Radicóndoli at about 2pm, a small village on top of a reasonably high hill, with magnificent panoramic views. We drove through the narrow main street and out the other end down a steep rocky country track to our home for the week – Villa Virgilius.

The house-proud owners greeted us in Italian and proceeded to show us round the house, in Italian. I nodded and pretended I understood. Tour over, Mr Virgilio headed out on his little tractor to plough the soil around his grape vines and olive grove.

We headed up to the village for supplies. There are three general grocery shops in Radicondoli: the Coop, the Alimentaria Tipico (our favourite, ran by a Penelope Cruz look-a-like), and another one, of which I don’t know the name, (we only ventured in once, ran by a scary hunch-back old man). They are all small and they all sell much the same things, pasta, rice, cleaning products, wine, fresh local veg, fresh bread from the bakers, and cheeses, meats and other anti pasti in the deli.

I must admit, I was hoping to find that food and wine would be cheaper on the continent – but not in Italy. Even right out in the countryside, where tourists are at a minimum (for now), it was pretty pricey.

We came back laden with cheese, ham, pasta, tomatoes, garlic, onions, etc and I cooked us a nice tomato and pancetta pasta dish for dinner. We sat in the evening sun with a bottle of Mr Virgilio’s wine (pretty damn good), and felt very happy and satisfied with ourselves. We were eagerly awaiting the Virgilios’ departure so we could get in that pool and enjoy a week of sun and relaxation.

On Sunday, with the Virgilios still here, we decided to head out on a drive. We went to San Galagano, where there is ruined abbey, but of course, where there’s a religious building, there are tourists – busloads of them. We walked the paths away from the people and as the cloud cover came in and it started to turn chilly, we headed back.

We ate in the village that night at La Pergola – top restaurant of the holiday, good value, with a homely feel and a great host and what has to be one of the best views in the whole of Italy.

Monday, and Mr & Mrs Virgilio were gone. That was the good news. The bad news was it was cloudy and cold. Staying positive we decided to use the bad weather day for sightseeing and we drove off to Siena.

At first it looked like a ghost town, but once we’d walked up the incredibly steep hill to the centre, it was actually jam packed with hundreds of (mainly American) tourists. There was yet another cathedral, and yet another square, except this time, the square was sort of skew, which was supposed to be the great thing about it. I was impressed for about a second.

We made the fatal error of eating in the square, which, of course, is the priciest place in these tourist hot spots, and it was made even worse by having to endure a street “entertainer” squirting unknowing passers by with water, tickling them between the legs with paintbrushes etc whilst listening to the high pitched squealing of an American lady who looked like she was wearing the tablecloth and found this lame form of slapstick humour absolutely hilarious.

So we hurriedly ate our lunch in fear of becoming the butt of his jokes if we took our eyes off him for a second, and when his begging bowl came round we made sure we snubbed it in typical haughty English style. Ha!

Done with Siena, it was back to the villa for a home cooked risotto and reading until bed time.

Tuesday. One look behind the curtains told us it was going to be another day of bad weather. So, it was another day of touring. We knew if we headed to San Gimignano we’d be among another million people who were doing the same thing, so in a blatant attempt to avoid other tourists we headed for places that barely get a mention in the guide books. Perhaps that would mean there’d be nothing to see, but at least we’d see nothing in peace.

To be continued…

Labels: travel