Tuscany: The Heart of Italy

Real life experiences are preferable to guided tours.

This was my opinion, anyway, of my recent trip to Italy.

I am quite certain that I did not express to Wanda, my hostess in Montecatini, how grateful I was that she welcomed me into her home and shared her life with me.

I arrived on a Friday afternoon, stayed two nights, and left on Sunday morning.

Wanda lives with her mother,   Maria Pia, a lovely Italian woman, closer to my age than to Wanda, and in perfect physical shape. I should be so fortunate!

She made dinner of tomatoes and tuna, one of my favorite summer dishes. The tuna did not taste anything like Starkist. It was like a fully cooked ahi tuna and flavored oh, so delicately. There were green beans and cold cuts, including prosciutto. I could have survived on the bread alone. The olive oil is the best I ever had. The red wine was delightful. Even though the food all during the trip to that point was exceptional, I could feel the love and anticipation that went into preparing this meal for a special guest.

On Saturday, after a trip to the coffee bar to taste Wanda's favorite pastry and taking time to make things right with the owner when I needed hot water for my self-supplied totally decaf packet, we drove into Montecatini Alto where Wanda works as a pre-k teacher.

First, we stopped at a church which is over 1000 years old. There she met a former student and his mother. She hugged him and they talked in Italian for a short while. Even though I did not understand, I could feel how at home Wanda felt there.

Next, we visited the farm where the olive oil is made and where she and her mother bought their fresh produce. Three men, each of a different generation, greeted us. Again, I could feel how comfortable Wanda was with them.

We went on to visit her school, empty except for a custodian, now that school was over for a summer break.  Wanda said the building had been a Mussolini post, but that her school room on the other side had not been. The walls were covered with wildly creative products made by students. Once, more I could feel the love Wanda had for these children she got to spend time with. Outside, her colleague, (co-teacher) was driving by. She stopped for a minute and then went on her way.

We went on into the mountains, winding around narrow curvy roads, honking at the edge of each turn and drove to an ancient villa which had been purchased and refurbished by a young family.

 The woman was not able to receive us because she was expecting twins very soon. Her shirt was short, revealing a huge belly and protruding navel.  I remembered being in the same condition and could feel her exhausted state. I wonder now, how the birth process was and would love to hold those little babies.

Finally, we arrived at a quaint restaurant for lunch - eating being my favorite pastime. A shaded outside     area with orange and yellow plaid tablecloths, the place could have been featured as an exclusive place to dine. The owner was the father of one of Wanda's students. He was so very friendly and accommodating even with his limited English. We had wild boar and an absolutely delicious homemade pasta - thin as noodles, but cut into squares. As was the case everywhere, the house wine was absolutely delicious. Then we had mushrooms.. My friend, a chef, has said that you cant go to Tuscany and not have mushrooms. We had a traditional type and fried and took home what we didn't eat. Maria Pia had them for her dinner.
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After lunch, we drove on to another village in the mountains. There we saw where Maria Pia had been born and lived her early years.Wanda related that these were not the happiest of times. We climbed up to the fortress, and to another ancient church build by the Medici family. We passed the home of billionaires, peeking in to see their fancy cars parked everywhere. They looked so out of place in these narrow streets and ancient buildings made of stones. The gardens which grew on the side of the hills, as steep as walls, were elegant. Everywhere and everything was ancient elegance. Back at the small flat, Wanda calls home, I showed the photos we had taken to Maria Pia. I could feel her sadness as well as the gentle memories of her roots.

Sunday morning, we checked the train schedule, and then drove to Wanda's favorite place, an inn in the Chianti region. We arrived at an ancient place, a farm which had been transformed into an exclusive inn.  We talked to the owner as she hung out her third story window. Well, Wanda talked to her, but, again, I felt Wanda's sense of belonging where she was.

We walked along a grassy path on a hill side to a mineral water fed pool overlooking the region below. There were grapevines all around us, as well as fruit trees, including my beloved apricot. We sat by the pool and meditated for awhile. Washing the water over our faces made the cool breeze even more refreshing.

Wanda senses herself as being called at this time to grow and to change her circumstances.

A promise I would claim for Wanda is that she feel the brilliance of her beautiful Spirit, the one she shares with her students and their parents, and I'm sure, like with me, all the people she meets.

Thank you Wanda, and Maria Pia, for trusting me enough to open the doors of your home, and sharing with me, your wonderful life in Tuscany. The gift of olive oil from the farm in Montecatini Alto will be finished far sooner that the memory of a journey into the real heart of Italy. And Thank  you Maria Pia, for the beautiful wallet made in Florence. I promise I will wear it out.

Most of all, thank you for the heart connections we have shared. We shared the pain of trying to communicate. You did a great job. I am sure you are still amazed to be a translator.You translate with your heart. I have felt it. And most of all, by being able to empathize with you, I was able to feel, like you, at home where I was there in Montecatini.

Such encounters with real lives is a precious gift, far surpassing the beholding of the wonders of the world. When has this been true for you?