So Wednesday’s fort trip ended with some Maximus Aerilius in my bed afterwards. I was hardly like twelve minutes in when I felt like I couldn’t hold my eyes open any longer, and I had to save the rest of Gladiator for another night.
8:30 still comes too early on these mornings. But our bus was leaving Piazza Gierbaldi by then, and I was not about to miss my bus to the city of Montepulciano. It was another ancient city on my list of places to visit. It didn’t take long to get there, and my attempts to study on the way there were a complete fail, so I listened to my Ipod instead. Such a genius idea considering I just needed some time to myself. I was gorgeous to be able to drive through the beautiful vineyards of Montepulciano, one of the best regions for grows grapes. There were rows on endless rows of vineyards.
So this is why I could never write a book. It would be endless paragraphs of unfinished work. It’s now Monday afternoon. And my story of Montepulciano from Thursday isn’t even finished. But I’m honestly not going to bore myself again with trying to relive every moment from that day, because in perspective, it doesn’t remotely compare to what I’ve done, or where I’ve been since that day. I will tell you this. The fountain that Bella so elegantly sprints through as she’s trying to save Edward in New Moon, is not a real fountain. It was built in Piazza Grande in Montepulciano. And there goes another quaint Italian town that will soon be flooded will countless tourists for the years to come. What “Under the Tuscan Sun” did to Cortona, “New Moon” will soon do the same. It’s a pity that I see more Americans with cameras, and more English than Italian, and more couples with backpacks and fanny packs than true Italian old married couples. I still love Cortona. And will continue to call it home.
But I find myself in Piazza Signorelli on the stairs, with my Coke Zero and fruit Mentos, typing away on my computer. I’m slightly hidden, so hopefully I’m not drawing too much attention to myself. As I sit here, I get faint whiffs of musty old “Italian man”. I’ll miss that smell soon. And I’m pretty sure a tourist just took a picture of me. That’s become a pretty regular occurrence for our group. We’re like rare wild animals that must be captured off guard. And I swear if one of these pigeons drops anything on me….I am not about the climb the hill before dinner in three hours to change.
I can’t believe tomorrow is my last day. And to make matters worse, we have a final exam. I sometimes forget that it’s not all a vacation. Maybe I’ll get some studying in before dinner. But I needed a chance to clear my head and store whatever memories are there on paper. Or on my computer at least. Friday we had our exam. And knowing that we had a free day all day Saturday and Sunday, and had just finished our last test, you can only imagine the damage that was caused. And because the science kids were leaving for Rome Saturday, Friday was also their last night. Friday was pure perfection, or maybe not for everyone. But I did see Cortona in a totally unique and indescribable way. It’s one of those things you maybe only get to do once. But I only hope I get to do again. And my hope for others, is to do the same. Make Cortona your own.
And as perfect as Friday was, Saturday could not have been any more than an absolute dream. I spent the morning sleeping in and some of the girls and I wandered down the hill. They needed eggs and an omelet. I needed Bar 500 and a coke. I spent the afternoon outside in the sun, with my sandwich and a book, and did some sun soaking. It was nice to just breathe in the air and lay in the sun. It’s strange how sometimes I feel like a solar powered body. And I just needed some recharging. A recharging mostly on life. I wish I had Captivating with me right now. But I will tell you this, that book says unbelievably true things. And it really does make me think that there is more to this life than just breathing. But I’ve learned, you can’t find the answers on your own. And God has unbelievable ways of pulling you back to him. I love that.
Saturday night was beautiful and breathtaking. I honestly could sit here for hours and hours and type about the wedding reception that Caroline and I attended with Joyce. Long story short, Joyce sent me an e-mail asking if I would like to join her at a wedding reception for one of Sandro’s cousins who was getting married with their immediate family and was then having a large wedding reception in a 17th century villa garden in Cortona. Not sure how I could have turned that one down. So Caroline and I put on our nicest outfits and heels and took off with Joyce. I have never been so blessed to have had that opportunity. And though I stood out like a girl in an all boys school, I loved it. I met old Italian men and learned of their jobs and journeys. I met old family friends of Sandro’s, who unfortunately couldn’t attend, and was constantly asked if we were the two American girls that everyone was talking about. I ate amazing Tonino’s food, who knew they were holding out on us, saving all their good stuff for wedding receptions, and drank glasses of wine underneath an old tree by a rod iron gate in an old garden. And when I say old garden, I mean Pride and Prejudice and Gladiator like gardens. The large iron gate opened to this gated grassy area, with trimmed bushes lining the walkway, with candles that would soon be lit when the sun goes down. There were lemon trees, and old trees that had grown in the most perfect way to create perfect canopies of shade over certain areas. There were small booths and tables set up with bottles and bottles of wine, adorned with beautiful glasses and appetizers. White clothed round tables sat on different terraces, circled by wicker chairs and more candles. You were greeted by this stunningly handsome old man, who spoke some English and welcomed us to his great estate. As much as I would have wanted to speak to everyone and learn their story, I knew my few Italian phrases would not get me very far, so our plan became to sit at a table with extra chairs, and those who dared to come speak English to us, would stay and enjoy a glass of wine and some stories of their travels and our knowledge of how to make wine.
I don’t think Caroline could have looked any more beautiful than she did for that wedding reception that we knew nobody at. She had bought new Italian leather heels and just had this pure happiness glow to her. We ate and drank to more stories about life, and shed a few tears about how beautiful each other were, on the inside and out. By this point the sun had gone down and I hadn’t even noticed that all the candles throughout the entire garden and different coves and terraces had all be lit. And when it got close to midnight, it was time to head to Casa Bacanella with Joyce, and we walked the same walkway out. But this time it was lit with candles and we were walking out the enormous rod iron gate, and I think when Caroline and I stopped and looked at each other, we both were thinking, were is my family and my dad to finish this walk with me, and to give me away to my one true soul mate. Ha, we both laughed, and took a deep breathe and continued on after Joyce. We’re gonna have to make that happen.
We spent the night at Joyce’s Cortona home. I’m pretty sure neither one of us could sleep thinking about everything that had gone on. And The fact that we had been personally invited for a private winery tour by this sweet lady we had met at the reception. We woke up to find that Joyce had gone to the store to buy more food for an enormous lunch that we would eventually eat later in the day with our new friends from the winery and Gianluca, who Joyce was insistent on that Caroline and I meet. 26 year old friend of her son Francesco. But our private tour of Palazzo Vecchio was unreal. This small boutique winery sat on their own hill, and serious 360 views of all the small hill towns around, including Cortona and Montepulciano. And then not to mention that by the conveinant time of twelve noon, we were tasting her personal wines, a Rosso and two Vino Nobile, all of which were incredible. Not to mention the company of Micheale, Caroline’s new best friend, who apparently “controls the situation”. That man knows how to live life. And ride a bike like Steve McQueen. Maria Louisa owns Palazzo, and has run it since her grandfather gave it to her family. (Side note, I’m surrounded by a dozen pigeons, who have somehow begun to encircle me and move in closer…not ok) But the house on the property is decorated with gorgeous roses, all different colors, and her back patio made for the most amazing wine tasting and appetizer location. After our Sunday wine lesson on how to spend your Sunday early afternoon enjoying wine and good company, we headed back to Joyce’s house.
Her sweet maid Maria, who speaks absolutely no English, but has a heart of gold, had apparently asked Joyce if she could make lunch for us because her husband was away fishing, and she wanted to cook for us. Our lunch on Joyce’s back porch was just unbelievable, and everything from the sage baked bread, to the rice salad and Maria’s meat stuffing zucchinis and fresh fruit with gelato for dessert, seriously made you think, why isn’t every day like this. Gianluca volunteered to drive us home at the end of the day, knowing we had to make it back for our group wine dinner in town later that night, but needed to swing by his “home” to check on wedding reception viewing and planning.
I say “home” because this old mansion looking building, was more than just a home. It was dream house. Like one you would imagine as a little girl and your Barbie dream house. The driveway is lined with those tall skinny trees that make you feel like your arriving at Maximus Aerlieus’s house in Gladiator. On one side is the biggest personal pool I’ve ever see, complete with a grassed walkway down to a small island in the middle. On the other, a grand “guest house” I believe. With a dining room big enough for a wedding reception. We sat under a small tree outside, and met Gianluca’s parents, both of whom make the most amazing Italian couple. Before we left we saw the bikes. And I’m not talking bicycles. These were the most amazing, Batman-like, street bikes I’ve ever seen. Apparently the most expensive, and obviously the best, bikes in the world. I think I nearly cancelled my flight home when I saw them. I would have given anything to ride those bikes. But they were stored away, and we were already late. But it is my mission to one day come back to Gianluca’s beautiful home, maybe for the afterparty for my afterparty of my wedding.
Gianluca took us home and dropped us off at the Fort above our school – good planning on not having to walk up the hill. And as we walked down to our dorm, Caroline and I just laughed at this crazy dream we had both just built up in our heads, because there was no way that actually just happened. All the amazing people we met, who were so delighted to do anything for us, and wanted no thanks at all, kept asking if we were planning on staying. And I wish I could have kept count of how many times we both considered it. Every person we met, insisted that if we left, we would have to be back very soon. And I plan on just that. This amazing town and these Italian people have stolen a part of my heart.
Our group dinner was good. And it was weird to think that this was maybe the last time we’d be eating dinner out in Cortona, not at Toninos. We shared some good wine and some laughs about our day. But my head wasn’t completely there. Because somehow, even after sitting for an hour on these steps, I’m still so conflicted on what my reason was for this trip. Was it to really spend time with Caroline, who has helped me grow and learn more things in these three weeks together, than many of my so called “friends”, who came and went from my life already. Was it to embrace this Italian culture and way of life, that no matter how many people can tell you about, you will never fully understand or appreciate until you have lived a month in their town. Was it a sweet taste of a place where I someday might call my home for longer than these few short weeks that I have spent here.
One things for sure, I am still unsure of who I am supposed to be or where I supposed to go. And there are things back home that will not be able to compare to life that I have lived here. But there are things that I need to get back to, because as they may escape my mind for a day while I’m visiting a winery or enjoying a true Italian meal with five other amazing girls that I am so blessed to have met and now have in my life, they don’t escape my heart. And that’s okay. My heart is a puzzle without any edge pieces. And some pieces are missing and new pieces have been added, and some have been placed away for good and safe storage.
So my hope is that I am so alive when I come home. Please do not live your lives being a distant or non-present person. And my hope is that I can continue to make myself a better person because of this.
Possibly the best way to describe this crazy “thing” -
“You cannot be alive very long without being wounded. The sun rises, the stars follow their courses, the waves roll in crashing against the rocks, and we are wounded. Broken hearts cannot long be avoided in this beautiful yet dangerous world we live in. This is not Eden. Not even close. We are not living in the world our souls were made for. Something’s rotten in the state of Denmark and in our own backyards as we journey through the unknown terrain of the moments and months that make up our lives.”
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