My friend, Natalie Bauman, joins me for my first week, which is in Italy. As we drive from Florence into the Tuscan countryside, the beauty of the landscape overwhelms us. We look at a few tattered hotels before finding ourselves near the town of Olmo and driving down a private lane lined with the tallest cypress tress I have ever seen. Tuscan trees, as I like to call them. My tuscan trees. Even before the lovely villa comes into view, I somehow know in my heart that this is a special place for me. Was it chance, or the winds, which guided us?
il Trebbiolo Hotel, "our villa" as Nat and I prefer to call it, is breathtaking. I climb out of the car and as I stand gazing, I feel I must whisper so as not to disturb her beauty. il Trebbiolo is sun-kissed yellow and has green shutters and iron rods on the windows. There are many flowers and bushes, including what appears to be a lemon bush bearing fruit and casting a slight scent of citrus into the air. A front courtyard, with her tall trees and low stone wall, provides a shaded place to sit and enjoy the view of terraced hills, olives trees, and distant towns. Two column terraces on either side of the main entrance display tables with white linen cloths enticing us to come and dine. The courtyard floor of small pebbles announce our arrival to our hosts.
Sabrina and Roberto, our hosts, cater to us as though we are their only guests. As we dine on the most delicious fare we have ever tasted, Nat and I take in the view. Both neighbors from nearby towns and guests from surrounding hotels are patrons of the restaurant whose local chefs use their families' timeless recipes. We enjoy a carafe of local chianti, the best bruschetta I have ever enjoyed, chicken with port and almonds, and carrots with onions in balsamic vinegar. Our palates have never been so delighted! Nat and I talk for hours at our table on the terrace, finally moving to chairs beside the wall where candles cast the perfect amount of light. A hushed peacefulness abounds. This is the perfect place to breathe deeply and allow life to speak to us. The perfect place for us to absorb. We see the lights of a church on a hillside in the distance. Its bell gongs midnight. I listen hard to the late night sounds hoping to hear something that will magically guide me on my search.
There is something energizing about waking up in brisk air and sunshine! I remember spending my childhood summers in the country and waking up to the same freshness. Nat and I get an early start to our days beginning them with a delightful breakfast of yogurt and mueslix, fresh bread with prosciutto and mozzarella, and apricot tarts. And, of course, fabulous Italian cappuccino! Ahhh...Italian cappuccino. It alone is worth a trip to Italy.
We spend our days driving through the countryside to Arezzo (a small Etruscan town dating back to 4th century BC), Fiesole, and Florence. Each day we return to il Trebbiolo with time to relax before dinner. We spend the time taking a nap in the cool of the late evening, going for a run along the country roads, glancing through the many Italian books in the living room, or sitting by the wall absorbing the scenery as it looks so different with the sun in this position. The green of the rolling hills, the blue of the sky, the intense sunshine. Ahh, is it just that I'm so captivated by the beauty of Tuscany or are the colors more vibrant here? Maybe it's the peacefulness that brings so much life to the colors. I realize that the beauty of this land could heal my soul. I have found a place where I, along with time, stand still. A place where my mind and my heart meld into one allowing my soul to completely envelop me. Where my soul reaches from deep inside, wraps around my complete being, and gently folds me back into myself. I have found a special place in Tuscany, at my il Trebbiolo.
Our last night before leaving for Venice, Nat and I once again sit next to the wall, absorbing. There is something so magical about il Trebbiolo that we try to take in her serene beauty for those times when we will wish we were here. All of the stars are out tonight. The church bell strikes mezzanotte. Midnight. A small lamb is nearby and calls for its mother. So much is being said, though neither of us say a word. Natalie decides to head to our room to write in her journal. As I sit under the stars and absorb the Tuscan night one last time, I hear a faint sound coming from somewhere off in the distance. It almost sounds like someone breathing softly as they sleep...
~ June, 2001
No comments:
Post a Comment