Take a side road out of Montalcino and immediately the pavement ends. We are on the strade bianche, the white dirt roads of Tuscany. The slopes are steep, steeper than any grade in the States. Vineyard walls threaten to make use of the comprehensive policy I added to our car’s rental contract.

The freshly-tilled farm fields of Tuscany are an umber-hued wide-wale corduroy, velvety and rich. Vineyard leaves are just starting to turn. Asphalt roads, dusty tracks, back and forth and back again. Thirty centuries of agriculture and architecture drifts along in the dusty haze our station wagon tosses up.

Continue reading →

So we have arrived in the courtyard of Basilica di San Clemente in Rome. We have traveled so far, and our trip is drawing to a close. It is appropriate, though, that the trip ends here. We are in a pilgrimage city and this is a pilgrimage church, similar in design, scale, and feel to the old Saint Peter’s (long since lost to the Counter-Reformation). This space is one for calm reflection after an arduous but fulfilling journey.

“Nobis post hoc exsilium,” says the medieval Salve Regina, “All will be resolved after this exile.” It was sung in the monasteries at the end of compline, the last hymn of the day. It is sung by the architecture of this place, by the doves that tumble through shadow and sun, by the aqueduct-fed fountain.

Continue reading →

With our eyes pointed west over vines of sangiovese and colorino, we have seen the sun trace lower and lower in the sky. This we notice but have not troubled ourselves too much to process. Too good is the wine and food and company. But some sense of obligation or exploration prevails, and onward we shall go. It is late afternoon by the time we head to Volterra. Our estate wagon dutifully climbs 1,700 feet of switchbacks, my traveling companions rest in various states of conscious around me.  We reach the city. Here the air is cool and the wind is cold, but the sun still lends warmth.

Continue reading →