Monday morning the four of us checked out of our rooms in Florence. We took a train to a little town in the Italian mountains. Things were very different here. Until now, I hadn't realized Italy had rural places; but this one blew me away.
Green, green as far as I could see. And trees! Guys, I'm from UTAH, as in, desert-scapes are what I'm used to. If the mountains don't cut off the view, you can see for miles in every direction. I mean, we have trees here, but not many of them. So seeing what appeared to be a mountainous jungle really took me by surprise.
Marco had told us that his uncle, also named Marco (This story would have been much easier to tell if I had changed Liz's and Uncle Marco's names. Sorry) would pick us up from the train station with his girlfriend. So when a very Italian man showed up in a small car and started speed-talking in Italian to Marco, I wasn't surprised.
But then the man spoke to me. In English. Pretty good English, too. That was a nice change.
We loaded our luggage into the tiny car and then squished ourselves around it. Toby, being the biggest person, automatically got shotgun. I was in back with the Japanese girl who'd come with Uncle Marco. I assumed I had misunderstood Marco when he told us his uncle had an Italian girlfriend. This girl was obviously not Italian.
Side note: we found out later on that this was Uncle Marco's new girlfriend. She spoke hardly any Italian but picked it up quickly (she speaks three or four languages, including English) and would later on become Uncle Marco's wife.
As we drove and drove and drove from the train station to Uncle Marco's home, I asked again what the name of the city was. He replied, "San Piero in Bagno." Roughly translated to, "Saint Peter in the bath."
Seriously? I looked over at Marco and asked if that was an accurate translation.
"Yes, it is."
"So a group of Italians really named their city after a saint spending time in the bath?"
"Yeah."
"O-kay."
What else was there to say? It was the funniest city name I'd ever heard of. But I didn't want to ridicule Uncle Marco's home. So I said nothing.
Finally we reached Uncle Marco's home. He showed us the apartment and told Liz and I to pick where we wanted to sleep. We found a room with a queen bed and chose that one. I can't remember where Marco and Toby slept. Honestly, I really don't know if they shared a room or slept on a couch or what, I never checked.
I love chivalry.
No, for real. I think it was awesome they were gentlemen and gave us first pick.
We unpacked a bit and then Uncle Marco made us dinner. I can't remember exactly what it was, but I do remember it had pasta in it and I was convinced that delicious cooking was obviously a cultural thing. After dinner, the four of us cleared the table and washed the dishes. I hadn't washed dishes by hand in a long time. Uncle Marco then explained the kitchen faucet only ran cold water.
"Oh, should we heat a pot of water up to wash things?"
"No, no, that is too much work. Just wash and rinse in cold water. The soap will take care of things."
Liz and I shot each other questioning looks. Uncle Marco saw us and started laughing. He told us Americans got too worked up about germs. Things would be fine.
We washed the dishes his way, but I determined to heat water up the next time; when he wasn't looking.
After dinner Uncle Marco kissed both of Marco's cheeks, handed us the keys to the car, and left.
Wait, what just happened?
Marco explained, "He's letting us use his car and apartment while we're here. He'll stay at his girlfriend's place."
Wow, that was generous. We had the whole place to ourselves. Not that we'd see much of it. The next day we drove a little more than an hour to the enclave country of San Marino.
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| Liz and me in the San Marino fortress. And no, my scanner isn't broken. These photos are fuzzy because it was so dang foggy! |
Picture this: towering mountains snaked by a narrow road leading up their steep inclines. Finally, at the top of the drive, a fortress castle with stone walls encompassing almost the entire area.
San Marino is cool. Super cool. But that Monday, as I tried not to freak out about Marco driving Uncle Marco's car up those twisting roads, the entire country was covered in fog.
I like fog. I love how it adds a feeling of mystery and fairy-like feel to the world. But that day I was a bit disappointed. The view from San Marino was supposed to be incredible and all we could see was the fog!
The fog wasn't going away. So I decided to embrace it, rather than blame it. I soon realized that being surrounded by fog in a fortress was really cool. I couldn't see the modern city down below and the rock fortress, complete with cannon mounts, statues dressed in armor, and drawbridge chains, really helped me pretend that we had been transported back a thousand years. The fog had also inhibited almost all the other tourists away, so we had the place to ourselves.
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| Liz, me, and Toby. Marco was obviously the photographer. |
Finally, our trip to the fog-encrusted San Marino over, we made our way back to our temporary home in San Piero in Bagno.
That night after dinner, Marco raided Uncle Marco's pantry and took out a container of Orzoro. He reverently held it in his hands and asked if we'd like to try some.
Sure.
He heated water up and poured some in a mug. A few spoonfuls of the Orzoro powder was stirred in and he handed it to me. I took a sip and......
tried not to spew it out over everyone. Yuck! What was this stuff?
"You don't like it?" Marco asked.
"No, sorry. Actually, it's nasty. How can you drink it?"
Toby laughed and sipped out of his own cup, "It's an acquired taste."
Liz tasted hers and with a grimace agreed with me, "I'll let you boys drink this. I can't stand it."
Marco drank out of his mug contentedly, "This takes me back so many years. My nonna would always make this for me when we lived in Italy."
Guys, guess what is in my pantry RIGHT NOW? Two, yes two, containers of Orzoro. They've been there ever since our family trip to Italy last year. I think Marco's drinking them slowly, saving them for special occasions. My kids have obviously all inherited my Orzoro-hating genes because Marco is the only one who willingly drinks the stuff.
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