Our first night at Villa Rucellai, we sit outside and have smokes and vino. The villa’s proprietary wine is quite stunning.
We had quite the urban, if not urbane experience in Morocco. Here in Tuscany, there’s no culture shock after all, just the desire for a truly new experience. I found a little place in Vicchio. It’s the local Casa del Prosciutto.
Our host Alessandro and I were talking about it. I seem so full of surprises in Italy, and I’ve arranged a day trip for us. We’ll take a bus ride and two trains through the Tuscan countryside. We’ll leave after breakfast.
The villa serves breakfast from 7:30 to 9:30 every morning, and I like my coffee hot, so I get to the dining room early. I smuggle back pastry, juice, and yogurt for you. If we leave by 10:00 we’ll get to Vicchio by 12:30.
This is a rural experience. Maybe we’re all citied out. Maybe we’re not. Maybe it’s more like an embrace. We have so thoroughly accepted one another that we can be anywhere and embrace that unconditionally, too. Like a silver tea ball, our hearts infuse where we are, becoming a part of it and it a part of us, like we are to each other.
Most everyone on the bus is local. You hold my hand in yours the whole ride, not speaking, looking out the window. There’s an old couple across the aisle from us and I notice they’re sitting like a mirror image. I don’t want you to see them. It’s like they’re revealing a secret, but I’m smiling and I feel butterflies.
The train ride through the Tuscan hills is beguiling. And the 15-minute walk to the restaurant is warm, sunny, and you’re still holding my hand. You have a lot to say now, and I always eat this up. It reminds me of when you used to record our conversations on your iPhone. I love how you speak, the way your mouth moves, and how you absently touch your face so delicately.
The food at Casa del Prosciutto is local cuisine to the utmost. I’m trying not to drink too much Giulitta Ale. This food is ridiculous, I say. You’re ridiculous, dolly, you tell me and giggle, giving me a flash of those coquettish eyes. The schiacciata is delicious. You know I love it and you feed me two fork fulls of yours. Because I’m spoiled.
This time I take you by the hand. It’s another 15-minute, maybe 25-minute country road walk to Poggio a Sieve and La Casa Verde. You see the farmhouse and I do believe I have never made you so happy.
I’m guessing we’re moving out of the villa soon.