At the moment we're in some cafe and are waiting for a more acceptable time to eat. It seems that Greeks do not eat dinner until around 10pm. Tomorrow we're setting off for our cruise and hopefully will have time to do a little self-guided tour before we leave.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
On one bright side, we still have four months of pictures yet to be taken.
On another bright side, a couple of Munich pictures and the remaining Tuscany ones are up at http://edandmarisa.shutterfly.com
If anyone has photos of Munich, Schnepfendorf, Fuessen, Rothenburg, Salzburg, Venice, Verona, Bologna, Rome, or the Cinque Terre that you would like to donate to our future album, we would sincerely appreciate it.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
When Guids (pronounced "Gweeds," as we like to call him) asked us to "weed the vineyard," we went out to have a look at it. We saw 14 rows, each about the length of an Olympic swimming pool, and we said "No problem. We can do that in one day." We were a little bit concerned by the steepness and rockiness of the hill upon which said vineyard resided, and by the gusting winds assaulting that hill, but we still felt pretty confident. Our confidence was largely due to the weeds we could see, which were indeed thickly overgrown. They were those wonderful tall, leafy weeds that completely cover the ground. They probably take the cake for the best quality weeds on Earth: they easily accomplish any ambitious weed's top priority, which is to annihilate the beauty of a garden, but they are also quick and easy to remove. Thus, both weed and weeder are happy at a job well done. We think that combination makes a weed very high quality.
Once we began weeding, we realized very quickly that the weeds were not the true adversary. Oh no. The real problem was much deeper, underneath those innocuous weeds. To best explain the challenge we faced, you'll need a bit more backgound.
The *root* (bit of gardening-pun humor) of the problem was that the vineyard borders Guido's lawn on three sides. Due to the fact that Guids neither mows, weeds, nor edges with any regularity, the vineyard and the lawn have surmounted their respective barriers to become one. After we merrily pulled up a patch of weeds in the first row, imagine our dismay to see that archenemy of weeders everywhere: a healthy bed of grass. That had to be pulled up. By the roots. By hand. For 14 pool-length rows and wearing gloves we suspect are ancient Roman relics (Guids is nothing if not authentic). Today we did not weed. We grassed.
We have completed 8 rows and hopefully can finish the rest by the time they get home tomorrow. Luckily tonight it started getting dark and we had to feed the idiots (aka foul fowl aka chickens) so we had to stop.
The upside to this story is that now the word is out: for the most authentic Tuscan experience any time you need a little escape from daily life, you don't need cypress trees, wine barrells, clay roof tiles, or even rolling hills. Just a nice healthy patch of grass. Preferably on a rocky hill. And maybe a strong fan; the influence of those gusting winds can't be ignored.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
We got to our final destination, a town called Empoli, and Guido was there with his daughter Hanna (age 4ish) to pick us up. His wife, Rebecca, and one of his daughters (age 13) are away this weekend and we haven't met the other daughter (16) yet but she'll be home for dinner.
Guido seems like a pretty interesting guy. He was born in Florence and studied there, in Paris, and in NYC to earn a PhD in archaeology. He specializes in the Middle East and throughout the past decade while he's been trying to get the farm up and running, he has made most of his living writing journal articles. We have a bedroom in their house and in it there's a chest with about two dozen artifacts that are a mixture of things he dug himself and a copy of an artifact that he made during his time working at the Louvre! His wife is from the Boston area originally (funny coincidence) but studied in Paris - we assume that's where they met. Guido is also a painter and our room is full of his paintings. Most of them are pretty good.
Guido told us a lot about some of the scary and surprising things that are commonly added to wines during production. Ever notice that there is never a list of ingredients for wine, even though it's required on everything else? He said sometimes the list of ingredients would fill the whoke label. Kind of gross. He was telling us that a lot of what he and his neighbors learned about cultivating grapes and making wines comes straight from old Roman texts - washing out the barrels only with salt water, etc. So interesting to think about how long the traditions have been passed down!
We went for a little walk this afternoon. It is so gorgeous here, it feels like being in a movie or a novel, wandering the gently rolling Tuscan hills all full of olive trees abd lined with lovely cypresses. The most exciting part of our day was when we turned to head back from our walk and a PACK OF WILD BOARS ran right across the road in front of us. There must have been 12 or 15 of them, all grunting and snorting. (All larger than our favorite little pig, Stella, at Schnepfendorf but smaller than our least favorite, Big Ugly Dinosaur). So that was an experience. Guido said they're kind of a problem here because there are so many of them.
Guido made a delicious dinner, with bread soup (fresh pressed olive oil poured directly on top after it's served) that he said is traditional to this area, some kind of yummy meat and roasted fennel. Then of course biscotti and homemade orange-cello for dessert (I made up the name orange-cello, but it's limoncello made with oranges instead of lemons because none of his limoncello was cold).
Two loud-and-clear signs that this house is inhabited by a New Englander: LLBean winter catalogue, USA Today with the Red Sox on the front page.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
