Thursday 19th September 2024

Our 16th wedding anniversary.

Yay, us!

To be honest, we are still down as a result of our experiences in Florence, and the German guy in the next rental to us not only had the same experience there, but in Siena too. Which is where I hoped things would not be so bad.

I have spent the last hour trying to navigate the Cathedral website in Siena to book tickets for tomorrow, but Google Translate does not work on transactions pages, and in Italian the website goes round in circles.

So for Thursday, we thought we would lower our sights, and visit Grossetto, the main town in there here parts. It is a town of about 80,000 people, how popular can an Italian town the same size as Lowestoft be?

Heck, we'll have a lay in and leave late morning, just as the eateries are open so we can have lunch.

So, after getting up near eight, we lollygagged around until just gone eleven, the drove out onto the main road at the bottom of the hill, turned west and headed to the coast.

We filled the car up, the elderly attendant showing us in slow Italian how the pre-pay thing worked, he was all smiles at the silly English.

Onto the autostrada for ten miles, then onto the wide boulevards of the town, all going well as we reach the roundabout in the centre and followed a sign to a parking house.

The signs then vanished.

This happened at the next two parking garages, and so we were through the centre of the town, at the station, and nothing but hour-long spaces beside the road, that we didn't have the display thing for.

We came back to the blocked off roundabout we saw when we came in, and had little choice but to try to get out of the city and do something else.

We found the autostrada. No, we found an autostrada, and set off following the signs for Siena which should take us back through the farmland. But this one took us into the hills, nothing looked familiar, and so we thought we would try one of the hilltop villages that looked down from a thousand feet above.

Which is how we came to visit Montorsaio.

Up a 500 feet climb along a singe track road that wound its way to the village at the top, where the road ran out and the way forward was really only on foot.

We parked, I grabbed my camera and we went exploring, not that it took much, but was like walking back 500 years in time, the only giveaway were the occasional parked cars and power lines to each house.

Houses were made of rough cut stone, most had lost their plater coating, revealing a jumble of rocks, stones and reused bricks.

There was nowhere to eat, just a tiny tabac that closed as we were there at 12:30, and the church at the top was locked, earlier its tower bell had chimed the quarter hour at twenty past.

Close.

We walked back to the car, programmed Roccastrada and found it just twenty minutes away. In fact three junctions along the autostrada was the town we visited the day before. So we bought supplies for lunch, and as thunder clouds gathered once more, we drove back to the Camino for lunch and rest.

A few rumbles of thunder, but amounted to zero rain, but the clouds make sure that the butterflies went to roost early, so no point chasing them.

So I read on the patio most of the afternoon, the light just dim enough to be comfortable.

At half four, we went to The Black Pig, or whatever that is in Italian, for yet more supplies. He is a farmer with his own butcher shop, so we bought salami, guanciale, wild boar sausages among other things.

The back home.

I made a simple ragu out of passata, garlic and then cooked the salami and guanciale to add and let ferment flavours. So, when ready, I cook the ravioli then put in the ragu and serve with stale bread and fizz.

And we toasted ourselves on our wedding anniversary.

Eating in meant having to wash and tidy up, but that done quick, we listened to Echo and the Bunnymen on the smart speaker, and the evening grew dark.