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Half
an hour into my ride from Damanhur it began to rain and it didn't
stop until south of Genova on the coast highway along the Italian
Riviera. I hate riding in the rain, so I was relieved when,
four hours later, I reached Tuscany and shed my rainsuit and
several layers of clothing under my motorcycle jacket.
I arrived in the tiny town in the hills of the
high Mugello in bright sunshine to meet the other eleven Wild
Writing Women.
September
23
Tuscany
Twelve Wild Writing Women converge on
Tuscany. We are in a tiny (tiny!) town in the hills of the High
Mugello in an incredibly luxurious villa/castle built in the
ninth century (swimming pool is 20th century). We've hired a
cook for the first three nights here, and had planned to hike,
motorcycle, bicycle, and sit by the pool, but the rain followed
me from the north and we have only ventured out to the nearby
town of Fiorenzola, where everything
but the restaurants were closed because it's Sunday.
We found a local place that served local
dishes, Lisa and I split a pasta dish with fresh porchini mushrooms
and also a ravioli in butter and fresh sage. The restaurant
was full of Sunday diners... families with children, even a
little tot crawling on the floor.
After lunch we went for a walk, despite the drizzle, to window
shop and to find the church whose steeple we had seen from the
road. It turned out to be a lovely old place with a sprangly
orchard. Crabapples hung from some of them, deep red and shining
in the raindrops.
Lisa
Alpine, wine, food, and pool outside the villa
But
the next morning we woke to rain. For the next morning when
we all woke the mountains around our villa, a beautiful 9th
century building guarded by two stone lions, was shrouded in
mist.
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