Once or twice a year, Teresa hosts a travel event for clients of her travel company, Teremar Travel. This year, we headed back to Italy to “our villa” in Tuscany and we brought with us 9 adventurers, 7 of whom have never traveled internationally or in Europe before.
The villa is a six-bedroom property built 300 years ago (completely updated, of course) and situated in the middle of sloping vineyards in the heart of the Chianti region. It’s a beautiful residence with a pool and large patio built to enjoy the scenery. It also has an incredible staff and chef. Facing west towards the afternoon setting sun, the villa looks over the vineyards and towards a tree lined ridge where the medieval towers from the village of Radda rise. To the north, another village, the village of Volpaia, sits on top of an adjacent ridge. Florence is an hour north and the famous cities of Siena and San Gimignano are half an hour away by car, driving along narrow two-lane roads with hairpin turns.
Our guests, as I mentioned earlier, are not seasoned travelers. Teresa made all the arrangements for them and they each had their own itinerary with some arriving in Florence on the check-in date and others a couple of days early in Rome prior to our arrival at the villa. All the details had to be worked out in advance and guidance given for each group. For first time international travelers, careful instructions had to be prepared detailing all the steps to get from the airport to hotels to connecting cities to trains to car rental agencies and finally to the villa.
“Here’s how you hail a taxi and how you pay for it”. “Here’s where the train station is and how to find the right platform to depart”. “Here’s how you handle the currency and tipping”. “Here are detailed driving and navigation instructions to get to the villa”. “Here’s how to pay for parking and toll booths”. “Here is how you should pack and what you should bring”. On and on. It’s hard to imagine what a first-time international traveler is not prepared for and what to do to educate them. So many things can go wrong.
But they didn’t.
Everyone had a great time; the weather was perfect; and the summer tourists crowds had not yet arrived.
The following is a daily journal I kept of this latest safari.
May 6, 2025
It’s VE Day. The 80th anniversary of fascism’s defeat in Europe and the end of World War II for all of us, both friend and foe. A chance for peace and the soon-to-be homecomings for our American troops who survived and prevailed in that time of horrific nightmares.
As coincidence should have it, this son of an Army Air Corps crewmember who flew 28 of his 30 required missions before getting shot down over Europe, is flying BACK to Europe. Not so much as to commemorate this momentous occasion but more so to celebrate the beautiful world that was recreated from the ashes of that terrible war. We, Teresa and I, are flying to Italy.
On the way to the airport, we took Uber. Our driver, Jason, showed up in a silver Nissan. On the way to the airport we chatted. Normal for us but occasionally unappreciated by the driver. (I need to up my rating to as close to 5.0 as possible after that “Kurt Event” and worry that being a “chatty Cathey” will do more harm than good.) Fortunately, our driver turned out to be chatty too, so all went well.
Jason told me he works multiple jobs. He’s a truck driver. An Uber driver. And a real estate agent. “Real estate??”, I asked inquisitively. “Who with?” “Maximum One”, Jason said. “OH MY GOD! Me too. Which office?” “Terrell Mill”, he said. “Me too!”
“Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1879, or Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1912?”, I asked. He said, “Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1912.” I said, “Die, heretic!”
Sorry. The last paragraph is a result of a very strong drink at the “Cozy Cafe” on Concourse E and is a reference to one of my favorite jokes by Emo Phillips.
Those details aside, I just found a Buyer’s Agent to work with me.
May 7, 2025
We arrived at our hotel in Radda in Chianti. The view from the room facing west and overlooking a green valley of forests and vineyards. The weather cool and damp but not very different from Atlanta in May.
Flying Delta, we arrived in Amsterdam to change planes. Schiphol Airport is Europe’s version of Atlanta’s Hartsfield. Large and crowded but more shopping mall-ish. It’s apparently Delta’s major European hub and explains the connections to Dutch airline KLM.
Once we arrived in Florence, we took our bags and caught a bus to the adjacent rental car center where we had a reservation waiting with Enterprise.
Florence is a very small airport with what appears to be one arrival gate. And everyone arrives at the same time. So it’s quiet until hundreds of passengers suddenly arrive at once. And this same crowd then collects their bags and then tries to make their way to the car rental center at the same time. On the same lone bus. Chaos is a preferred modus for Italians seemingly.
Once at the Enterprise car rental counter, I found two people behind the counter studiously staring down at stacks of paperwork. I stood quietly looking at them. Their focus remained fixed on their forms. Never looking up. I coughed. Nothing. I glared to no effect. Medusa-like, they continued with their mission. Finally, I asked, in American, “Do y’all work around here?” while flapping my printed reservation paper. Looking up, the older gentleman stared at me silently nearly turning me to stone. Then he smiled and asked to see my paperwork.
In mere hours, he finished my paperwork and handed me the keys to a new VW Coniglio (rabbit in Italian). “You can find it in aisle I.” he stated. “I. As in Italian.” he added smarmily.
Before long, Teresa and I were sailing the smooth asphalt of the A1 Freeway. The beautiful new road occasionally piercing mountainous ridges with tunnels.
The little bunny could fly.
May 8, 2025
After dinner in a small but busy basement cafe, Teresa and I walked back to our room thru empty streets. It’s not quite tourist season yet in Radda and the stillness is appreciated knowing what’s about to come.
The next morning Teresa announced she had bad news and good news. The bad news is that we need to spend the day shopping (BOO). The good news is that we need to buy wine for her guests arriving this weekend (YAY).
Our first stop, the local supermarket called COOP. Apparently it stands for “cooperative” and not “chicken coop” which I held out hopes for. Regardless, while small compared to American grocery stores, it was well stocked and had a great vegetable section and fresh butcher shop.
Their wine selection, however, was limited so I was tasked with the duty of finding nearby wineries which is not difficult in this area. With Google Maps in hand, we headed out in our VW Rabbit in search of great wines.
Our first winery, Tenuta di Carleone. Just down the hill from the village.
We pulled up to the closed steel gates of the winery. It looked abandoned. A button on the keypad next to the gate was labeled “Tasting Room” so I pressed it expecting no response but in a second, a young woman answered telling us to “go away”. She explained in broken English that the winery was opened only for tour groups of 20 or more people. “Butta we wanta to buya lotsa and lotsa of wina”, I pled. “Donta worry”, she said, and the heavy steel gates swung silently open.
At the wine tasting room we met Layla, a young beautiful wine sommelier. We introduced ourselves and Layla smiled and started her presentation. She poured sample after sample. Each of the wines were great. And strangely enough, the better tasting samples were more expensive. After a little haggling (Teresa likes brief haggling … I prefer long drawn-out emotional limbs flailing hand gesturing haggling … but Teresa is always more successful at it so she does the haggling) an agreement was reached and we soon headed out with our first case of Chianti regional wine in the boot of our bunny (not a euphemism).
On the way out, the beauty of the scenery caught my eye. Before us were green vineyards climbing the hills towards the tan medieval stone village towers of Radda. Farmers labored in rows following the vines. I stopped and captured a picture and we continued to the next winery, Le Miccine.
We pulled into the parking lot of Le Miccine and found the wine tasting room. It was locked. A sign on the locked door instructed visitors to “sound horn LOUDLY” with the emphasis on loudly which I was gleefully about to do before a young man in coveralls showed up and spoiled the potential for fun. He said he was Leonardo and he would let us taste the wines.
More great wines. Leonardo explained that “miccine” is Italian for “small donkey”. I told him not to worry as we were Americans accustomed to asses of all sizes.
Teresa did her negotiating magic again and we headed out with another case of wine. Our next stop was a winery on Google Maps named Castello di Meleto Enoteca, a few miles further south into the mountains.
On the way we passed a driveway that disappeared up a hill with flags fluttering labeled “wines”. Imagine that. I turned the rabbit around and headed back. It was not on Google Maps.
We pulled into a parking lot next to a modern warehouse building. Very industrial. GEOGRAFICO a sign spelled out.
Teresa entered the modern glass doors of what appeared to be a retail store. Inside, a middle-aged woman sat behind a large computer screen rifling thru papers. She looked up, surprisingly, and Teresa explained briefly our mission. The woman pushed her glasses down her nose and glared over them at Teresa.
Teresa charmed the sales clerk by waiving an America Express credit card in the air. Works wonders every time. Our new found friend, named Laura, gathered two cases of wine together and we headed on to our final stop.
In the distance we could see the Castello sitting on a hilltop. It was to be our final stop for the day.
We pulled up the driveway as it hairpinned back and forth to the Castello di Meleto Enoteca. It’s quite a beautiful spot and must have an incredible history. There’s a castle and a small chapel but who cares? We rushed past those to the wine tasting room located in the basement also known as the dungeon.
We met Gabriel who poured several samples. At this point, all the samples tasted great. “Do you have more samples?”, I mumbled. Or slurred. I can’t remember.
A bunch of wine was bought. Teresa handed over a couple of credit cards. A fork lift showed up at the VW bunny and case after case was shoved inside. Those that wouldn’t fit were strapped to the top of the over burdened bunny.
With our mission accomplished, I plugged in what I thought was our hotel in Radda. Google did a quick route calculation and we soon found ourselves lumbering along dirt farm roads and narrow mountain trails. Teetering back and forth.
A trail of dust followed in our wake.
May 8, 2025
It’s Thursday evening and suddenly church bells are ringing and phones are buzzing and beeping. Teresa and I are sitting on an outdoor patio in Radda with a great view of the late afternoon sun enjoying a glass of Chianti and we just got the news (very local in this case) that a new pope has been elected. And he’s an American from Chicago.
White smoke is billowing from a nearby hillside. Either they are very excited about the news or a wildfire is about to break out.
May 9, 2025
Friday morning and the last day for provisioning. Our guests arrive at the villa tomorrow.
The first order of business is finding beer in the heart of Chianti. Wine, of course, flows like water around here but beer is a distant cousin, rarely seen. Looking on Google Maps, no where can a beer store be found within 30 miles. The hotel concierge suggested we try the Coop Supermarket we visited yesterday so we headed off on the hunt.
We found a tiny cooler with a few single cans of beer, chilled. We looked around for an employee to ask if they had cases for sale and found someone in the produce section. Teresa asked about cases of beer and the lady scowled and said, “No beer. I don’t speak English.” I jumped in and said, “That’s a lie. You just spoke English.” It was now clear we were on our own.
Wandering around the grocery store, we turned the corner and “PREGO!” …. cardboard boxes full of beer, stacked. I went to get a grocery cart and found some plastic contraption that looked like a laundry basket on skateboard wheels. This will have to do, I told myself and headed back to Teresa who was safeguarding our stash.
With the beer now in our mobile laundry basket, we headed to the checkout only to find one lane open. And the cashier was our surly produce clerk. She glared at me as I glared back. Teresa whipped our her trusty Amex card and paid up.
I headed out with our skateboard stacked with beer and the clerk snapped her fingers and said, “You cannot take the cart.” I looked back at her over my shoulder and said, “I don’t speak Italian”, and headed out to the parking lot.
Our provisioning is officially done.
FINI!
May 9, 2025
Friday afternoon and I am heading back to Florence to pick up two of our guests who are arriving on separate flights one hour apart. Amanda is flying in from Amsterdam and Elizabeth is flying in from Rome.
Checking Google Maps, I found what appeared to be the quickest and straightest route back. But that’s what Google Maps WANTS you to think.
Shortly after driving past Radda, I was instructed to turn right heading north to Florence. The road Google selected was more of a one lane path frequently bordered by stone walls. I quickly figured out that if you see a red light on the side of the road in the middle of the forest, it’s probably best to stop and wait for it to turn green. Sure enough, in a minute or two the light changed and I headed on. The road was now barely wide enough for the VW Rabbit.
In 30 minutes, I finally reached more normal highways and quickly entered a freeway. The road was fast and easy until I got to the first freeway roundabout. I made a lucky guess and took the correct exit onto the next highway. The entrance and exit lanes from high speed roundabouts in Europe are not clearly marked. And there can be half a dozen or more exits closely spaced.
In another fifteen minutes, I could see the Florence Airport tower in the distance to the left. I knew that my final stretch of road would involve another freeway roundabout which I thought I was prepared for. But I wasn’t. My first attempt at getting into the airport was a failure. There were a pair of lanes that exited the roundabout that I thought must head into the airport property. There were no signs indicating what ramp to take or what lane to be in as you approached.
I took the double lane exit and found myself back on the freeway heading away from the airport. It was Friday afternoon rush hour so in another fifteen minutes I was able to turn around and get back to the roundabout. This time, as I approached the double lane exit, I spotted a single lane exit hidden behind some bushes next to a gas station. I took it and sure enough it was the airport exit. But, the public parking lot had no entrance to it so I was forced to circle the airport and ended up back on the freeway again.
I felt confident that my third attempt would be successful and it was. I found the exit to the airport (there WAS an airport sign posted at the exit … it was hidden in the bushes and all of one foot square) and once on that exit, there was another exit immediately to the right that led to the public parking lot. If you blink, you will miss it. I blinked on the previous attempt. The Florence Airport is very small with one runway so all the signage you normally see for major airports just doesn’t exist.
Parking ticket in hand now, I found a parking space and headed into the airport to await our first guests’ arrivals. After a while, they both showed up and since they packed lightly with a carry-on bag, we quickly made our way out of the airport and headed back to Radda. The return route picked by Google Maps followed better two lane roads and the drive was easier as we enjoyed the scenery in the late afternoon sun.
Once back in Radda, Elizabeth and Amanda checked into their hotel (they were given a large suite with a fireplace, sitting room and a private outdoor patio) and the four of us headed back out to find an open restaurant. We walked down the empty main street of Radda and as we passed the church, its bells rang as if on cue. Perfetto! We turned right at the end of the main street and followed a road that overlooked an adjacent deep ravine with vineyards and hills in the distance. The setting sun cast long shadows in the orange misty light.
Up ahead, a restaurant with outdoor seating was brightly lit. And just our luck, an Italian restaurant. Just what we were looking for.
May 10, 2025
Saturday morning and it’s check-out day at our hotel in Radda where we’ve been staying since our arrival on Wednesday.
Before checking out, we were surprised by a commotion in the street below us in front of our hotel. Leaning out of our window, we could see a religious procession walking past. The congregants softly chanted. Our best guess was it must have had something to do with the new pope. It didn’t look like a wedding or a funeral. “Itsa gotta be the poepa”, I said.
Since the villa would not be available until noon, we took one last tour of Radda and its shops and wine stores. And of course, who can avoid a pic or two at the statue of the Chianti’s mascot, a large, black, rooster. In fact, I began to notice that many shops sell all manner of trinkets, posters, paintings and sculptures of roosters.
When it was time to leave Radda, I headed out to get our VW loaded with boxes of wine. I got in the car and drove up the “pedestrian only” main street of Radda to pick everyone up in front of the hotel. Something allowed only for deliveries and arriving and departing hotel guests. I pulled up and saw Teresa with the luggage. There was just enough room for our bags in the trunk. Elizabeth and Amanda joined us and had to carry their luggage with them in the back seat. It was a very crowded ride.
We left Radda and in a couple of minutes pulled up to the security gate of the villa. Teresa leaned out of the window and pressed the call button. The gate swung open and we climbed the rocky dirt driveway to the parking pad next to the villa. Angela, one of the property managers, greeted us. It was good to see her again.
I started unloading the boxes and boxes of wine and stacked them up in the kitchen, dining room and outside on the veranda. Teresa, Elizabeth and Amanda took care of the luggage, hauling it up the steep stairs to the second and third floors.
By early afternoon, after getting settled in and unpacking, Teresa started getting text messages from two guests who were in Florence and heading to the car rental agency at the airport. It was Beverly and Lisa. We had arranged prior to their departure from the states to share our locations via Google Maps. I looked down at my phone and on the map of Florence I could see a little icon of them now driving on the A1 freeway heading southeast. Success so far.
Mark and Nancy were on a train heading in from Rome. Eventually, their icon showed them outside the Florence train station apparently on their way to the airport car rental lot. Then, in another 30 minutes, they were on the A1; Their dot on the map making steady progress.
Finally, it was Robin, Devin and Celeste. We tracked their progress on the map and watched them in their rental car as they descended the final hairpin turns coming down from the castle on the ridge above our villa.
Everyone made it successfully and none of the drivers had ever traveled or driven internationally before. It was quite a feat where so many things could have gone wrong.
After settling in, we had a celebratory toast and dinner and watched a dramatic sunset from the patio.
May 11, 2025
Mother’s Day, 2025. Our first full day to enjoy the villa with our 9 guests. A day of recovery from long travels. A quiet day to relax. A day to enjoy the rose gardens and pool. And it’s a day to enjoy the wine.
For dinner, our chef, Giuseppe, prepared pizzas that he cooked in the outdoor fireplace. With a side of prosciutto and melon, it was another perfect meal.
After dinner, a line of thunderstorms moved in from the Ligurian Sea. Lightning was popping everywhere. It was like being back in Tampa, “The Lightning Capital of the World”.
Holy Jumping Jupiter!
May 12, 2025
It was Siena today. Our first day trip with our guests in Tuscany. Siena dates back to 70 AD and is the oldest banking center in the world. In fact, it is home to the oldest continually operating bank in the world, the Monte dei Paschi which has been open since 1472. And still their ATM is broken.
The city is a perfect place to visit for walking tours as the city center has banned all vehicles except for delivery trucks. If you accidentally find yourself driving on the old street of Siena, you will be ticketed or worse. You will be forced to parallel park on the narrow streets.
Eleven of us loaded up into three cars and took off at mid-morning … Teresa and I in the lead car. We plugged in our Google Maps route and headed out. The weather was cool and sunny following the previous evening’s thunderstorms.
We pulled out of the villa’s gates and turned right onto the highway heading towards Radda. Once past Radda, the road turned left to the south and wound its way down, cascading thru a series of tight hairpin turns from the spine of the mountain, descending towards Siena, 20 miles to the south.
A couple of minutes later, the Google Maps route had us turn right onto a narrower paved road.
Things were going well until the pavement ended.
Idiotic Google Maps had calculated our route based on the shortest distance meaning we were now on muddy, narrow, pothole filled dirt trails wandering down Italian forested mountain sides. And somehow, to make things worse, we were now following another confused and terrified tourist (they probably were using Google Maps too) who was driving extremely slowly and in the middle of the narrow muddy lane.
We couldn’t turn around so we followed our new timid lead vehicle bouncing thru potholes, for miles with nowhere to turn around.
At one bend in the road, a wider spot opened up at a concrete bridge over a river. I honked the horn and our terrified lead car pulled over as we passed and eventually made our way down the mountain to a wider paved highway.
Siena’s towers stood out on the now close horizon.
In preparation for our day trip to Siena, I reviewed our driving route and plans for parking. At the western end of the old city center, there is a stadium and plenty of parking spaces and lots. That would be our destination. And I passed on the warning about not driving in the historic Siena streets. “There are big warning signs so if we get separated, pay attention and don’t go past the limits for unrestricted driving.”
After several roundabouts, we were now wandering slowly around the stadium area looking for open parking spaces. Most of the parking was curbside parallel parking. There were a few small lots. Regardless, everything was full. I continued on with Mark, Nancy, Beverly and Lisa in the car immediately behind me. The third car with Robin, Devin and Celeste was nowhere to be seen.
I was running out of unrestricted roadway but, as luck would have it, a car was just pulling out in front of me. And, two parking spaces behind it, another space was open. I pulled up to the now open space and parallel parked and our following car pulled into the adjoining space. It seemed incredibly fortunate not to only find one parking space but two close to each other. This was really against the odds. And both spaces were barely 100 feet from the “DO NOT CROSS” zone.
We got out of the car and headed towards the medieval city center. A text from Robin and her crew said they had parked much further back on the road so we made arrangements to meet at the Siena Cathedral.
It was crowded on the pedestrian streets as we made our way to the cathedral. Large tour groups led by the ubiquitous lone leader holding a flag or umbrella were everywhere. We passed the large tourist mobs and made our way down one steep hill and up another before emerging in front of the Duomo di Siena.
Once at the cathedral we waited for Robin, Devin and Celeste and in 10 minutes they caught up and we took off to view the cathedral from the adjoining piazza.
Not quite as crowded yet (the tour groups move slowly), we enjoyed the beautiful view and scene just as the cathedral bells began ringing. It was 11 o’clock.
We decided to split up at this point and rendezvous again at the city hall at 1 PM. Teresa and I and Mark and Nancy headed down some narrow side streets and found the Piazza del Campo, the historic square known for its bi-annual horse races and for the Torre del Mangia, the landmark tower and medieval belfry. After some “tourist shopping” and a brief attendance at a wedding celebration (the bride and groom emerged from city hall just as we were passing), we turned back to the shady side of the square and found a table under some red awnings where lunch was being served.
Following a leisurely lunch, we wandered around again enjoying our brief visit to Siena. After meeting up at city hall, we headed back to our cars and made the return trip to the villa. The Google Map route on the return was a much better paved route. It should have been the one we followed to get to Siena.
In half an hour, we were back. Just in time for the required nap.
May 13, 2025
A group of us headed out this morning to visit Volpaia, the small village on the next mountain ridge over and easily seen from our villa. It’s closer than Radda.
It would be an easy 15 minute walk if a trail connected the villa to Volpaia, as the crow flies. But in this part of the world crows don’t fly in straight lines. They fly more like drunken sparrows. Everything switching back and forth and swirling up and down the hills.
So what could have been a short walk really turned out to be a 30 minute drive. All the way out to Radda and then back up the hill to Volpaia.
The road out of Radda was lined with tall, thin cypress trees. A very Tuscan scene visualized in paintings and now the fevered dreams of AI computers. “Classico”, I told myself.
We found a gravel parking lot with several open spaces and pulled in. Climbing a metal staircase led us to the village’s sole empty street filled only with the sound of chirping sparrows.
Walking up to what appeared to be the village church revealed it to have been converted to a restaurant, long ago, and now likewise empty except for a lone lounging cat. Across the street sat it’s competitor, a restaurant with outdoor seating under large yellowed canvas umbrellas. Empty too.
We passed them and headed to the wine distributor. Of course. Inside, a small room was staffed by two women. One who spoke English. The small stone room seemed strange given the size of the building and it’s function. One of the women explained the “wine room” was at the end of a darkened hallway at the top of some stairs. She turned the lights on as we ascended the stairs.
At the end of the hallway, we turned right and found the “wine room”. The room was amazing and appeared to be cubic, probably 20 feet on each side. The walls were covered with stored wine bottles on their sides, covered with varying layers of dust. Small tags showed the year of the bottle’s vintage.
“Here’s one section from 1969”, I pointed out to Beverly. “Probably left over from the moon landing.”
After gawking for a reasonable period, we headed back up front and made a couple of purchases. The olive oil should be great.
Outside, we wandered around the remainder of the empty village. I walked over to a stone parapet and looked out over the valley. And there it was, our villa poking out along the neighboring ridge. The sound of thunder echoed from the distance.
We headed back to the restaurant with the big yellow umbrellas and waited for the thunderstorm. Lightning flashed overhead and everyone began chirping like sparrows. And soon, after the wine began pouring, we became a bunch of drunken sparrows.
It’s the only way to fly around here.
Tuesday evening and Teresa made arrangements for our group to have a private dinner and tour at “The Castle”. The winery, Castello di Albola, is what we refer to as “The Castle” and it is located up the hill from the villa.
We met with Ricardo, one of the vintners from the winery, and he told us about the winery and its wines and the history of the area dating back centuries. After the fall of the Roman Empire, this region, Chianti, served as the wine growing region for Florence. The castles built at that time all had towers that served as a means of communication for the area. The Chianti region has been producing wines non-stop, even during times of war, of which there have been plenty since the Roman Empire.
Following a tour of the wine cellars, we enjoyed an incredible four course meal paired with wines selected by Ricardo.
May 14, 2025
With the drone fully charged and in my backpack, eight of us headed to San Gimignano for the day. While only 20 miles away, it takes more than an hour of driving given how twisty the hilly roads are. And a fun observation, while on the few straight sections of road, the speed limit is lowered to 50 kilometers an hour or less. And while navigating a hairpin turn, the speed limit is twice that. Those crazy Italians. Always having fun.
San Gimignano is a world heritage site and it was built mostly in the 13th and 14th centuries. I call it the “Medieval Manhattan” because it has a skyline accentuated by multiple towers looking like New York City from a distance. There are currently half a dozen or more towers remaining from its peak 700 years ago. The city has quite a history.
We wandered around back-alleys shopping and exploring until we emerged in the central plaza, the focus of which was a well on a raised platform. Off to one side of the plaza was a restaurant with outdoor seating and a couple of empty tables.
The four of us sat down and ordered drinks. I asked the waiter if it was OK for me to fly my drone and he said, “Eetsa no problem.”
I pulled the tiny drone out of my bag and started it. It popped up from the tabletop with its characteristic shrill whine and climbed straight up to 200′, its maximum altitude.
I took a few shots and swung it around to capture the scene. The view was gorgeous. I brought it back down and landed it on the table before catching any unwanted attention. A cop car slowly made its way up the narrow ally heading towards our position. A “Carabinieri”, no less. I stuffed the drone in its bag before the cop passed by none the wiser.
I don’t know why I am so cautious with the drone. I have an Italian Drone License, Italian insurance and the governmental software that shows restricted airspace. I guess it’s just all the bad news in the media about drones make you nervous.
Following lunch, we wandered around the city admiring the architecture and shops. Several bought dresses and shirts.
After a couple of hours, we headed back to Radda after successfully negotiating the “pay-for-parking” ritual.
Wednesday evening and Giuseppe prepared another incredible dinner. Fresh ravioli (as if there were any other in Italy), tiramisu and wine.
He and Angela, our chefs, prepared the meal over an open fire in the kitchen’s huge fireplace. With afternoon temperatures in the low 70s, it’s still a doable thing. In another month, daytime temperatures will start topping 100 degrees and dinners cooked in the fireplace will have to wait for the fall.
After dinner, the storms moved in and then cleared up enough to put on a sunset show.
May 15, 2025
Thursday morning and following breakfast, I offered to give a tour of Greve, one of the original settlements in Chianti dating back to the 11th century. Its claims to fame are that it is the birthplace of both Amerigo Vespucci and Giovanni da Verrazano, two famous explorers / map-makers from the Middle Ages. For the record, however, Vespucci is recorded as having been born in nearby Florence. Claiming Vespucci is probably the American equivalent of “Washington slept here”.
While originally founded during medieval times, Greve feels more like a contemporary Italian city. It doesn’t have the architecture or narrow winding streets but still it is worth a visit because it is home to several olive oil and wine tasting rooms and plenty of shopping and cafes. And it is an easy but winding 30 minute drive on good roads from the villa.
Mark and Nancy offered to join me and we headed out late in the morning. Arriving close to noon, our first order of business, following finding parking, was to find an interesting place for lunch.
Parking is easy in Greve as there is a large parking deck a couple of blocks from the old city center. The challenge is, as with all parking, figuring out if you have to pay for parking and how to do it. I spotted a cluster of “old people” near a kiosk at the parking lot entrance and headed that way. They were Americans and baffled by the process since the kiosk contained few written instructions and those that were there were in Italian. No international symbols or other helpful hints. I waited for one gentleman who inserted credit cards which seemed to result in nothing. He stood aside and asked me to give it a try. I pressed a number of buttons and a light came on at the credit card reader. After inserting my credit card, it spit out a ticket. The visitor asked me how I did it and I told him I had no idea. I just pressed buttons until a green light came on. I may have paid for parking or launched missiles. I was uncertain.
Mark, Nancy and I headed back to our VW and I placed the newly received ticket on the dashboard then we walked into the city center.
The center of Greve is a large triangular plaza surrounded by arched arcades with shops, Chianti wine stores and cafes.
After the requisite shopping, we sat down at an outdoor cafe overlooking the “triangular square”. The weather, cool and sunny. A gregarious waiter brought out menus and we ordered lunch. Nancy and I had the thin filet of sea bass which was perfectly grilled in olive oil. In another hour, we left and headed back to the car.
I was worried that the car might have a parking ticket since I never really knew if I was successful in paying for the parking, but, fortunately everything was OK.
Once back on the road, I decided to refuel and show Mark and Nancy the often-confusing process. I found a nearby Shell gas station and pulled up to the pumps. I selected the correct fuel type and pushed the nozzle into the side of the car. Now, how to pay. On the pump, there were the buttons and a screen you would expect to operate to pay. But I couldn’t get it to work. A car pulled up on the other side and a young man jumped out to refuel. Mark approached him and asked for help but the guy just ignored Mark, finished and drove off. Another vehicle pulled up and an older man got out. Mark tried again and this time the man gestured to the signage above which showed “Full Service” on the pump side we pulled up to. And of course, the gas station was not attended. His side of the pumps showed “Self Service”. So, after he finished, I pulled around and was successful at refueling.
There’s always a catch when dealing with the pay systems involving refueling, parking or toll paying. You have to be born there to understand it.
With the VW Coniglio now fully refueled. We headed back to the villa and took a different, more scenic route that wound its way around the hilly landscape, passing by “the castle” as we descended down the hill to the villa.
May 16, 2025
Our final day at the villa. Tomorrow, we all check out and head back to car rental agencies and airports.
It’s been quite a week and everything worked out perfectly. Given that several of our guests have never traveled to Europe or internationally before, there were a lot of things that could have gone wrong.
The villa and its staff, Giuseppe and Angela, were flawless as they have always been in previous visits. And their culinary skills are always treasured.
We saw so much this visit but there is so much more to see on our next visit.
The Architecture and Wine Tour
Certaldo Alto
Pisa
Arezzo
Volterra
Florence
A final toast to our friends who joined us on this adventure. Until the next time, arrivederci, Italia!
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