From the Seat of a Bicycle

There is no better way to see the true beauty of Tuscany than from the seat of a bicycle. While it is true that at the end of the day, all you want to do is stick your very sore bum into a giant tub of gelato, it is worth every ounce of pain. Plus here in Italy, you can sit in your gelato and eat it too!

For the past five days I have been biking the picture perfect beauty of the Val D’Orca which includes the towns of Montepulciano, Pienza, and Montalcino to name a few. The colors this time of year are as if they have been taken straight from an artists pallet. Fields of deep green grass are dotted with bright red poppies. Wild mustard fields paint golden streaks across endless rolling hills. Once up high in the hills, you can look out over the entire valley. Amiata, a big volcano, towers over the valley with many little towns scattered about its lower lying hills. Cyprus trees line the long driveways up to villas which typically sit atop perfectly round green grassy hills. There is not a villa in this valley that does not have a 360 degree view.

So yes, Tuscany is gorgeous, blah blah blah . But there is something else that makes this place so magical, and that is the people who live here. One very special person who lives here is Marco. Marco is our bike guide. Let me first paint you a picture of Marco so that you can better understand what it is like to spend your days with this man.

We have just ridden a beautiful long ride up to a town called Radicofani. After the town is a long descent to a section of highway that we have to ride for about 5 kms. At the top of the hill I see Marco on his bike raising both fists victoriously into the air as if he has just won the Tour de France. Then comes all the cheering and yelling. “Wow,” I think to myself, “this man is very happy to have reached the top of the hill.” However, as I get closer to Marco I notice that he is on his cell phone. His 12 year old son has just won a soccer match. Dad is very proud.

Once we reach the highway, Marco tells us to be careful because it is a busy road and ”Italiens are crazy.” “Oh you think so?” I mumble to myself. Causiously we pedal our way down the highway with Marco in the lead. However, Marco has apparently thrown caution to the wind. There he is, a red scarf around his head, helmet dangling from the handle bars. A cell phone in his left hand, attached to his left ear, water bottle in his right hand sometimes pouring water into his mouth, sometimes being used to gesture and throw water around as the phone conversation gets heated. This leaves no hands on the bike. Oh, and did I mention, it is a two lane highway with no shoulder and apparently no speed limit. As cars fly by at what must be near 150 kmhr, Marco never once breaks his stride. When I told him later that, “that was the most Italien thing I have ever seen,” he grins and explains that it was his friend on the phone. “He is having problems with the wife. He knew I was on the bike, so he tells me he will call back later, but I say ‘no! this is important! we talk now. i am in my office.’” Marco’s world headquarters are in the saddle of his bike. His office dress code consists of a red head scarf tied like he is a member of Hells Angels, two gold earings in the left ear, and spandex, lots of spandex. I like Marco’s job.

So this is how we spend our days; out on the open road with Marco, riding through the exquisite countryside, stopping for lunch in towns that date back to pre-Renaissance times where the restaurants have no menues, and the waitress is also the chef, who also owns the restaurant, which has probably been in the family for over 300 years. You eat whatever they bring you, and you will never be disapointed. I made the mistake of asking for some balsalmic vinegar to go with the olive oil. The waitresschefowner looked at me with disgust and said in angry Italien to Marco, “Explain to her that you never use balsalmic with good olive oil, for it would ruin the delicate taste of the oil.” And indeed she was correct. It was amazing.

Being in Tuscany, you feel like you are in Earth’s secret garden. The days are warm, and nights are cool. The air always smells like a bouquet of fresh flowers, and is alive with the buzz of birds and bees. There is a constant cool breeze which makes the tall dark cyprus trees look as if they are slow dancing with one another. Just being in this landscape is incredibly energizing, simply because there is so much life surrounding you.

I will very soon be leaving this beautiful landscape for a new, very different yet equally beautiful place. The only parts of me that won’t be sad to see Tuscany go are my rapidly enlarging belly and my fierce spandex farmers tan. I can’t wait to get them to Thailand where hopefully they won’t survive more than a few days!

Ciao from beneath the Tuscan sun!