POGGIA ALLA MURA, ITALY, Saturday, March 26, 2011 — So we woke to beautiful sunshine and a view of the Tuscan vineyards known for its Brunello wine stretching out below us. We love the window coverings in Italy — here they are dark wooden shutters that are not only lovely but completely block out the light. We speculate that Italians are good at blocking the morning sunshine because everyone dines so late. But maybe it really has to do with keeping out the daytime heat. In any case, it’s glorious for sleeping in — unless you have a 7-year-old German girl and her mother in severe high-heels pounding over your head all night. The building is 200-plus-years old right? Well, if you know me, you know I’m fairly copacetic about most things — except people keeping me up at night — especially if you have to hear them every time they get up to use the bathroom in the night. I felt terrible about complaining about such a lovely place, but it was totally harshing my mellow.

So after an amazing breakfast of poached eggs, bread with the most delicious apricot marmalade, and three kinds of pecorino cheese for which the region is known (Will prefers the aged variety), I made inquiry whether the gazelle upstairs was staying on. Yes, our entire stay. But it just so happened another room was available — not much of a view but a better room. Well Will dissolved in tears because he had “bonded” with the other room, and Rick was grumpy because he wanted to get touring. But I did what my Grandma Norma, my dad’s mother, would have done. I dug in my heels and got everyone to pack up their stuff and move. I felt bad, but I also felt the spirit of my stubborn grandma, whom I remember once refusing to budge from the lobby of a hotel in Hawaii until she was given the poolside room she had been promised — and paid for. So here’s to you Grandma! We will have what the Italians call “Golden Dreams” tonight.

We are now settled in our perfectly quiet room (watch an Italian rock band set up to practice below us now..) and reveling in another wonderful day in Italy. After breakfast, we headed out to see some of the hill towns of southern Tuscany. The guidebooks were right — the valleys run north-south, and we went east east east, so we took some twisting and turning that unfortunately also turned Will’s stomach.

We started off the day by taking the wrong road (yes, my fault) but it was a lovely white-gravel road through the Brunello vineyards of the Castello Banfi; golden stone houses, rolling vistas, we even saw a man on horseback. We managed to get back on track with a “short-cut” to the famed Abbey at Sant’ Antimo — it was a gravel road worthy of Thompson lake — we followed three motorcycles whose occupants seemed to be having less fun than us over the rocky, winding road. We finally emerged to a lovely 12th century Romanesque church tucked into a little valley (lavender in summer) below a hilltop town. There were lines of the iconic cypress trees, a sky filled with puffy clouds and a cool breeze. We kept pinching ourselves to make sure it was real.

We got there just in time to catch the monks’ sixth prayer of the day — they chant in Latin at regular times during the day. We took a seat in a pew at the back and took in the scene: Rays of sunlight slanting in the high windows, the simple, unadorned surfaces of the high vaulted ceiling, the views of the Tuscan countryside through windows behind the altar and a lovely double-arched window at the back looking out on the sky. The monks’ voices were lovely, rising and falling and stretching out the single word Domine over about 20 syllables, so lyrical and evocative. It felt very holy. The nice man who tended the place — and shook his keys whenever some obnoxious visitor actually took a photograph during the chant — showed me a book that held all the prayers, in Latin and Italian, so we could follow along.

We then headed out to the Renaissance hilltop town of PIenza, a small, manageable town with a nice vibe. Will declared he likes the Renaissance, just not Renaissance painting. Which was OK since we are avoiding painting. Will and I pop into every church we come by, but just stick to the main aisles and focus on architecture: “See it’s a Roman basilica, notice the columns — what are the capitals?” That sort of stuff. We had a nice lunch at a trattoria filled with children, which seemed charming at first, until the children of two families basically started to riot, crashing into my chair and continuing the theme of the child last night. We barely escaped (but the lunch was good — Will had the regional Pici pasta, and Rick and I tried Gnocchi — Rick had the wild boar gnocchi — he so desperately wants to go boar hunting while we are here!) Pienza is one of dozens of hill towns on top of seemingly every promontory in southern Tuscany; gorgeous sweeping views all around.

Next we motored on to Montalpuciano, famous for its wines, and walked up its straight but charming streets to a fortress at the very top. We couldn’t enter, unfortunately, but we picked up some pecorino cheese and Tuscan salami for dinner on our way back down. We had planned on going to Montalcino today as well, and have dinner, but ran out of time and energy, so we headed home in the sunset, tired but relaxed at the same time.

The boys are now in the other room watching “Asterix” on Italian TV. It’s time for that pecorino and salami!!!