Sweeter

Last day on the Cape...funky Provincetown

Provincetown as seen from the Pilgrim Monument.

On day four of our Cape Cod vacation we decided to drive to the very tip of the cape to visit Provincetown, or P-town as it is affectionately referred to by the locals.  P-town is known as the most creative, liberal and diverse town on the cape.  With a substaintial gay population, the town reverberates with fun, "live and let live" type of energy...and I adored it.

On the way up to Provincetown we stopped at Marconi Beach the site of the first transatlantic wireless (telegram) station.  The station is gone now, but a beautiful sandy beach remains.

 

After Marconi Beach we continued heading north stopping at the Highland Light, built in 1797 and still active today.

 

I loved these two women gazing out at Highland Beach...so cute in their hats, reminding of my Mom.

Arriving in P-town, we walked through the streets, poking into shops and art galleries.  One thing I noticed about P-town that was very different than any of the other towns we visited...it was dog friendly.  There were happy pooches everywhere and plenty of upscale dog boutiques for them to shop in.

P-town Pedicab in pink!  Love it!

 

While Eric sat on the back deck of a restaurant sipping a cocktail, Piper and I wandered down to the harbor to take a few photos.

Couldn't resist taking a photo of the boat, the "Laura E" since my sister's name is Laura Ellis.

 

For dinner we ate at the famous Lobster Pot...it was loud, and cramped, and smelled like seafood and grilled corn.  The food was very good (not fantastic...but pretty darn good) and the wait staff friendly.  All in all a winner.

 

After dinner, we wandered around town some more taking photos.  The Pilgrim Monument, was modeled after a bell tower in Sienna (which I just saw last year when I was in Italy...so weird), to commemorate the first landing of the Pilgrims and the signing of the Mayflower Compact.  It's silhoutte dominates the landscape.

 Love, love, love the sky behind this church in P-town at sunset.

 

Next we hopped in the car to drive out to Race Point Beach.  This part of the cape curls around westward, so affords the only spot on the Cape to watch the sunset behind the Atlantic Ocean.

 

Ilove this photo taken at Race Point Beach.  It reminds me of an Edward Hopper painting (one of my favorite artists, who painted many scenes around the Upper Cape).

Provincetown ended up being my very favorite town on the Cape.  I would have happily spent the entire four days just in this area alone.  So our days on the Cape were coming to a close.  On day five we planned on visiting Plymouth and making a side trip to Marblehead to visit Eric's cousin Sabin.

 

Photos of the day - The best view any monster ever had

 

 

Visiting Paris had been a 10-year dream for me when Eric and I finally took the trip a few years ago.There was alot about Paris that called to me....art, food, wine, architecture, history, music, fashion...but what I wanted more than anything was to climb the tower of Notre Dame to take photos of the gargoyles. 

I kept a journal during our trip...here's some of what I wrote about my gargoyle hunt.

"I've dreamed about taking photos from the tower of Notre Dame with gargoyles in the foreground and the Paris rooftops in the background.....  Eric and I even "trained" before the trip so we would be able to sprint up those 400 winding steps to the top of the tower."

"Since arriving in Paris, I've been waiting for the perfect weather to maker our Notre Dame tower trip.  Each day has been too overcast or rainy, but today, with partly cloudy skies, was to be my chance."

"We were first in line to enter the tower.  The steps were just as I imagined.  Narrow, getting narrower the higher we climbed, they were worn from centuries of feet going up and down.  As I climbed I imagined ol' Quozimoto struggling to climb these stairs to ring the bell."

"Finally I could see the light from the open doorway above.  I rounded the corner and stepped out onto the tower floor.  And right in front of me was the gargoyle I had traveled half way across the world to meet and take his picture.  Of course, I refer to the "Bored Gargoyle".  With his elbows propped up on the ledge he had his head in his hands and he was staring out at the rooftops of Paris mischievously sticking his tongue out."

"I was amazed at how my differnt types of creatures landed up on top Notre Dame with, in my opinion, the world's best view.  There they've watched Pairs for over 1,000 years.  What their stone eyes must have seen.  War, revolution, industrialization, celebrations, wedding, funerals....and they had a front row seat to it all."

Cape Cod vacation day three...Chatham...the hoiter-toiter side of the cape

A kiss for me in Chatham.

 

Day three of our Cape Cod vacation we drove to the lower cape to tour Chatham.  Referred to as the Nantucket Island of the cape, it's a bit more blue-blood than the rest of the quaint towns along the cape.

Our first stop was at Chatham Light which is a operated by the US Coast Guard and sits on a busy stretch of road, overlooking the harbor and a wide swath of beach just across the street.

 Chatham light.

 Just up the road from the Chatham Light was the Chatham Bars Inn.  It was Sunday morning, and it looked so inviting we decided to stop and have a bloody mary on the shaded front porch that looked over the ocean.  Upon being seated on the veranda and ordering our drinks, we were told, no alcohol could be served on a Sunday before noon.  Hmmm...I guess blue-bloods don't drink in the morning like us not so blue-blooded folk...so, instead we toured the hotel.  It was breathtaking in a New England, old money sort of way.  I told Eric, if we ever come back to the cape, I want to stay here, even if for just one night..considering rooms run between $500 and $900 a night...I'm probably just dreaming, but you never know, right honey?

The front entrance of the Chatham Bars Inn.

The lobby of the Chatham Bars Inn.  Gorgeous!

Next we walked down to the fish pier to watch the fisherman unload their boats.  The boats were still out, so we didn't see any, but I did get a photo of this hungry guy patiently waiting for the boats to return.

 

We strolled through town looking through shops, having lunch, stopping for tea. 

Piper and Eric at one of the many cuter than cute shops in Chatham.

After lunch we headed up the cape, stopping along the way to take a few photos.  Piper and I climbed out on a pier to take photos only to discover it was someone's private pier.  The owner watched us climbing around , and just patiently waited while we took photos, saying hello and waving when we were done.  In spite of (or maybe because of) all that blue-blood...the people in Chatham were super friendly and amazingly patient with us tourists.

Next we visited the Captain Edward Penniman House.  Built in 1868 by the whaling captain for his growing family, it boasts a whale jawbone entrance gate and beautiful period details.

Piper and Eric in the whale jawbone front gate of the Captain Edward Penniman House.

 On the porch of the Captian Edward Penniman House.  You can't see them in this photo, but were were getting swarmed by mosquitos...little buggers!

Also in Eastham, we came across the Eastham Windmill.  The cape was once covered with windmills, used to local mills.  The one in Eastham is the oldest on the cape, built in the early 1680's.  You couldn't go inside but it was interesting to see it there on the side of the road.

Eastham windmill, built in the 1680's.

 

It was getting late in the day, and the weather was iffy...but we decided to drive a little further north to see Coast Guard Beach.  By the time we got there the wind was howling and rain was sputtering, so we skipped the beach, but just admired the views of the salt marshes and the Coast Guard Station.

 

By this point, our feet were tired and we were ready to just relax over a nice dinner.  Our first two dinners on the cape were dissappointing.  The food was overpriced for the quality...and the dusty plastic flowers in an equally dusty vase on the table was a real turn-off.  Trying to save us a little money, I had had coupons for both places, so Eric said on night three "No coupon restaurants".  Well...I had another coupon for Winslow Tavern, which was way off the beaten path in Wellfleet, but my research showed it got excellent reviews.  So Eric agreed to try it and we were rewarded with an amazing meal and a real flower on our table, in a beautiful Federal-style captain's house built in 1805.

Not a great photo...but you get the idea.  We had a beautiful Father's Day dinner at Winslow's Tavern in Wellfleet.

Full and happily tired after dinner, we strolled through town (which took about four minutes) and then got in the car to head back to our hotel.  The next day, we planned on driving to Provincetown, known for it's flamboyant and fun atmosphere....I wanted to be well rested for what lay ahead.

Riding the Cape Cod Rail Trail

Day two of our Cape Cod vacation, we rented bicycles and rode along the Cape Cod Rail Trail.  Vacationers ain the late 1800's rode the train from Boston to the Cape, but as automobile's gained popularity, the rail service was discontinued.  In 1978 the rails were paved and became a 25-mile bike and pedistrian path.

Eric riding along the smooth sun-dappled Cape Cod Rail Trail.

 

The trail takes you through forests, salt marshes and quaint little towns on a relatively flat smooth service - perfect for a novice bicyclist like me.  We picked up the trail in the town of Brewster and rode about 6 miles before our first stop in Orleans for ice cream at the Chocolate Sparrow, which sits behind an old train station right along the trail. 

The Chocolate Sparrow was a great place to stop and rest and re-fuel with a double-scoop cone.

 

We rode past First Encounter Beach, where in 1620 an exploring band of Mayflower passengers met the Nauset tribe...the first encounter between the Mayflower cruisers and the native people.

Continuing on we came across Three Sisters Lights (they call lighthouses "lights" on the East Coast).  These three squat wooden lights were moved to a park about 1/2 mile inland after the bluff they were on started to erode in the sea.  The land of the Cape, being mostly sand and gravel is slowly eroding away, so many of the lights have been moved off their original cliffside locations further inland to sturdier ground.

One of the Three Sisters Lights sitting in a park about 1/2 mile inland. 

 

Next we visited Nauset Light, also moved back 350-feet from it's orginial location.

Beautiful Nauset Light.  A light keeper still lives in the house.

 

We took a beach break, changing into our suits and enjoying the sand and sea for an hour or so.

Eric and Piper coming in from at dip at Nauset Light Beach.

 

Something we noticed about Cape Cod (most of it), is it is not particularly dog-friendly.  There were "No Dogs" signs at most all of the beaches.  Now, the Cape's beaches do get exceptionally crowded with people sunbathing, swimming and picnicing for the entire day (something pretty hard to to on our cold Pacific NW beaches).  So I understand if everyone brought their dogs, and didn't clean up after them, it would be quite the mess.  But, my dogs love playing on the beach more than anything, so I was feeling a little sad for all the East Coast dogs missing out on beach time.  :-)

 Unlike the Pacific NW, most of the Cape is not dog friendly.

 

 Eric and Piper at one of the beautiful white sand beaches along the Cape Code Rail Trail.

 

After Nauset light, we turned around and headed back to Brewster to return our bikes, stopping at one more beach along the way.  Round trip we ended up riding 22 miles....which is nothing compared to what bicyclists around here do.  But having broken my tailbone just the month before, I was pretty sore by this point, so was glad to turn in the bike and hobble, Festus Parker style, back to the car, to head to the resort for a quiet, relaxing evening.

 

 

Of seashells and soda bread - Cape Cod vacation day one

Eric, Piper and I took our family vacation to Cape Cod and Boston this year.  When we told people where we were going many asked, "Why are you going there?"  I could have replied, "the history", "the beautiful scenery", "the lobster"...and all of those would have been true, but the main reason was it was available through our timeshare on short notice.  That being said, it more than lived up to it's reputation as a favorite vacation spot for families for over 100 years.

We took the red-eye flight from Portland and arrived at Boston Logan at 5:30 am, where we sleepily made our way to the rental car agency, got our car, plugged in the GPS and began our hour and half drive toYarmouth where we were staying.  Along the way we kept looking for a Starbuck's with no luck....however there is a Dunkin Donuts on every corner.  Seriously, if I lived here I'd weigh a ton...I can't resist their delicious double chocolate donut....mmmmmmm!

Anyways, after fueling our stomachs at Dunkin Donuts we arrived at the resortin Yarmouth around 7:30 am...ummm, just a few hours before check-in.  The guy at the front desk gave us a recommendation for breakfast and some daily beach passes to kill some time before check in.  Unlike the beaches here in the Northwest, you have to pay to use the beaches on much of the East Coast.  In Cape Cod, it doesn't cost to use the beach, but it costs to park in the parking lot...and most of the beaches are not within walking distance to town.

Off we went to the Keltic Kitchenfor an Irish breakfast. I don't know how long this place has been around...but it looks like awhile.  The hostess, a middle-aged woman with rosy cheeks and red hair haphazardly thrown in a bun, greeted us like we were family and showed us to our table.  The kitchen is open, with counter seating in front, where the locals sit and eat and chat with the cook while he works his magic.  Eric ordered a cornbeef hash (the best he's had) and Piper and I, being opted for eggs, Irish bacon (a bit thicker and meatier than American bacon) and soda bread toast.  The mean revived us enough to venture off down to Seagull Beach while we waited for our room to be ready.

The Keltic Kitchen.  That's Dublin born, Dave Dempsey in the kitchen cooking up hearty Irish fare.  He says, "The french live to eat, but the Irish eat to live."

 

We arrived to an empty parking lot (except the attendant) who looked at our pass and flagged us in.  We changed our clothes in the bath house and walked out on the beach.  We had the place to ourselves at this early our.  The sand was white, the sky blue, the dune grass green and lovely cottages dotted the shore...yes, just what I had expected of a Cape Cod beach.  We walked across the sand to the surf line and noticed the beach was covered with seashells.  Now, I'm not talking broken bits and pieces or chunks of seaweed covered mussels...but beautiful white, pink, and translucent yellow shells.  Piper and I couldn't believe our eyes and began scooping them up...handing them to Eric until his pockets were full. 

 Not a soul on the beach at 10:00 am.  Seagull beach in Yarmouth.

 

All those pink and white spots on the sand....those are perfect, beautiful seashells!

We found a place to lay down our towels with a little bit of shade from the dunes.  Eric and I laid down and took a short cat-nap, while Piper went straight for the water...her first time in the Atlantic Ocean.

Piper takes a dip in the Atlantic.

 

After the beach got too hot, we drove to Yarmouth Port to get ice cream at Hallet's Drugstore.  Built in 1889 by Thatcher Hallet, and today owned by his great-grandson, the family obviously never felt the need to do much remodeling...the place is amazingly preserved.  With the exception of the addition of electricity, a new ice cream counter, and the portable tv in the corner, it looked like it must have looked when it opened it's doors.  We ordered our ice cream and cooled off under the ceiling fans.

 

 Eric and Piper enjoy their ice cream at Hallets drugstore. 

Next we decided to explore the town of Dennis, wandering along Route 6A (the old King's Highway) past one charming old sea captain's house after another.  We stopped at a charming white steepled church next to the town park and cemetery (there seemed to be a lot of that on the Cape).

This bell next to the church used to be in the schoolhouse that was right next to the church, but is since gone, the bell being all that is left.

 

Beautiful white steepled churches are everywhere.

Exhausted we finally headed back to the resort where we were able to check-in.  We schlepped our luggage to our room, opened the door, threw down our bags, turned up the a/c and finally got a good sleep.  Much needed rest to get us through the rest of our week. 

A few favorite photos from Italy

I was just going through some of our Italy photos. There are so many that a I love.  Here's a few.

Sleepy lion in Assisi with the Umbria Valley below.

 

Town of Soriana Nel Cimino celebrates the Festiva Santa Theresa - the patron saint of motorists.

Beautiful fountain in the town square of Soriano Nel Cimino.

 A statue in the Vatican Museum.  One of the Pope's commissioned the fig leaf for modesty.

Poppies grow everywhere.

Bell tower in Sienna.

Shop displaying a boar head...wild boar is a local favorite in the Umbrian Valley.

 
Soriana Nel Cimino at sunrise.

 

Shrine to a saint in a tiny church (holds maybe 20 people) in Soriano Nel Cimino.

 
Old women gather after church.

 
Basicalla St. Francis in Assisi. 

 
Blogging from Italy.

  
 
 
 
 
 

I'm a bird nerd

Three males, looking quite distinguished.

Since I had a three-day weekend, we made a trip to Otter Crest.  Most of the people staying at the Inn had packed up and left by Sunday afternoon, but we stayed Sunday night, and planned to leave mid-afternoon on Monday.  We woke up on Monday to clouds and mist and cooler temperatures in the low 40's.  After breakfast, I stepped out on the balcony and noticed a large flock of pelicans down on the beach, bathing in the fresh water from the waterfall that comes down off the hillside and flows to the ocean.  As the morning wore on and the tide receeded, the pelicans gathered on a few rocks close to shore.  They've been nesting this last month on Gull Rock, several miles offshore, but this is the first time I'd seen them come in so close.

I couldn't resist...I grabbed my camera and headed down to the beach.  Being it was Monday, and the weather was a little chilly, I was alone on the beach with the pelicans and seagulls.  The first thing I noticed when I walked on the beach, is these birds leave giant poops...I'm talking dinner plate size here.  And, it smells like rotting fish (guess that makes sense since they eat 4 to 5 pounds of fish a day).

Coming in for a landing

 

I approached the rock slowly, and although they eyed me closly, they didn't seem to mind too much my being there.  They are huge birds, with wingspans of 6 ft., and long pouch-like beaks.  Since it's mating season, the males heads are a beautiful white and yellow and their beaks are golden oragne with a bluish underside.  I sat in the sand (and, yeah, probably, bird poo) for about 30 minutes watching and taking a few photos.  What an amazing thing to watch as they preened and cleaned, fished, and basically just hung out with each other.  These beautiful birds were once almost extinct from hunting and DDT use, but today they number almost 300,000...and I got to see about 100 of them this morning.  Ok, ok...I know...I'm now offically an old bird nerd, but you have to admit...these are beautiful creatures.

 

Ciao! Italia

Tomorrow we leave at 3:00 am to drive to Rome to catch our 7:00 am flight back home.  It's been an amazing two weeks.  I have loved Italy, and particularly Soriano, but I am also looking forward to being back home.  There are two good things about foreign travel....you get to experience a different culture, and you appreciate your own.

Italy....the Good

The people are wonderful.  Sweet, kind, patient, friendly.  They value community.  I've so enjoyed watching the people of Soriano stroll through the town square saying hello to each other.  The old people gather together on the church stairs or in front of cafes laughing and telling stories and watching as the world goes by.  They take care of each other...the old care for the young and the young care for the old.  I've watched grandparents stroll their grandbabies around town and smiled each night when I saw the adult children of the elderly help their parents and grandparents take part in the nightly stroll thru town.  Family is important, in fact vital, here and that's the way it should be.

Antonia lives in the medeivil district of Soriano.  She was shy to have her picture taken, but enjoyed showing off the flowers she has growing on her porch.  She wouldn't smile when the camera came out, but she blew us kisses when we said goodbye.

The Italians also take care of their animals, in their own way (at least they do in Soriano).  The town's stray cats make their way to the butcher shop each night where he puts out scraps of meat for them.  And Bella, the town stray dog visits the different restaurants in town where they always have a nice treat for her...and they all chip in for her vet bills, making sure she's healthy.

Of course the food has been good.  The olive oil can't be beat and they make these great little round breadstick things with fennel seeds that are addictive.  The wine has been the best.  For only 4 euro we've had a darn good bottle of "vino della casa" with dinner every night...going back to paying $35 - $45 for a semi-decent bottle at home will be a sad adjustment.

Pasta and vino....we had a lot of both!

It goes without saying the history is awe-inspiring to a new world gal like me.  People at home speak with pride about living in a 100 year old home, but our neighbor here in Soriano has lived in the same house that her family has lived in for seven generations and our apartment that we've made home this last week was built in the 13th century...I guess they built things to last back then.  Castles seem to be on every hillside, works of art carved into every building and fading fresco's beckon in the most unexpected places.

Art and history and finely toned marble asses are everywhere.

As a Catholic, I've felt a lot of pride seeing how the culture of Italy is so entertwined with the church.  They respect and honor the church, and the monuments built to religion are nothing less than mind-blowing.  St. Peter's grandeur and art and the spirituality and beauty of St. Francis will remain with me always.

Frescos of the Madonna are in every town in Italy.

Italy....the Bad

Well, of course you can't love everything about anyplace, and there are some bad things about Italy. 

The worst has to be driving....it requires an iron stomach and nerves of steel.  Every driver races like a madman, using the lines on the road as merely guides instead of rules.  They pass on blind corners, tailgate like crazy, and cut in front of you.  Pedestrians take their own lives in their hands by daring to cross any street.  Thank god Eric has done the driving and not me.  And while I'm on the subject of driving....the Italians also have an odd aversion to road signs...the GPS would say, "take a left on SP5" and yet you would never know where SP5 was...it's not marked...anywhere!

While wine, clothing and food are affordable, toiletries are very expensive.  I paid 20 euro for a very small tube of sunscreen (I think it's a controlled substance here) and feminine products are equally high.  You can only buy toilet paper scented and with printed flowers (I'll take unscented plain white any day), and non-fat milk, yougurt and margarine are no where to be found.

Energy is expensive here, so it is watched closely.  While drying your clothes on the line sounds romantic, it leaves your clothes kind of crunchy and smelling a bit funky.  And, I've a new found love for my dishwasher at home.

....and the smelly

My sense of smell has undergone serious assault since I've been here.  Medievil sewer systems don't compare to our modern ones at home so toxic odors emanante from drains, bathrooms and behind ancient doors covering dusty storage caverns underneath buildings.  And...no A/C means BO...on me and on everyone else.

All in all...yes, I have loved being here, but as Dorothy said, there's no place like home, there's no place like home.

Spoleto sans Rick Steves

Rick Steves has been our guide on this trip.  We've used his book to tell us the most interesting places to go, how to ride the trains, a walking tour for every city, and where to find the elusive WC when the need arises.

Originally Eric and I had planned on spending today in Tuscany, but after our visit to Tuscany yesterday, we decided we just liked Umbria better.  Don't get me wrong, Tuscany is beautiful, but to compare the two, Tuscany is like the popular, flashy sister, and Umbria is more like the shy, pretty sister.

So we picked Spoleto to visit.  I knew that Rick Steve's had recommended it, but didn't bring along his guide for it, thinking we weren't going to visit.  Upon arriving in Spoleto, the first thing we needed to find was of course a WC.  We walked towards the duomo, knowing they usually have one, only to find it closed.  Luckily we stumbled on the tourist office, who gave us a map of the town and directions to the nearest WCs.  After our stop at the WC, we took the map, decided what sights to see and off we went.

Eric trying to read the Italian map of Spoleto.

The map was in Italian, not too helpful, but Eric was pretty darn good at figuring it out.  We saw the ancient Roman walls and gates to the city, the Duomo (surprisingly empty), the ubiqitous town fountain, and of course a pizza and wine bar.  After lunch we walked up to the fort....which like a lot of the other castles and forts we've seen, was converted into a prison at one time, so there isn't much left of it's original charm.  After the fort, we saw the bridge of towers, a very cool footbridge that spans a very deep ravine.

The bridge of towers in Spoleto.

After Spoleto we drove to Labro.  A medievial town perched on the top of a hill (where else) with amazing views.  We read about it on a website.  The drive to Labro, while precarious, was amazing.  The little hill towns, each with it's own castle rising above the hills looked like a fairy tale.

We arrived in Labro and walked through the town.  It is amazingly well preserved and the views are equally amazing with a lake to the left and the Italian alps to the right.  It was a little erie walking through the town.  We walked the entire town and only saw one old man who scurried by us and one dog who also scurried by.  Every door was closed, every shutter drawn, and not a soul in sight.  And yet the evidence of people was everywhere...a bicycle leaning against a wall, a candle burning in front of a shrine of the Blessed Virgin, a half full wine glass sitting on a table outside a cafe.  It was as if an evil fairy had come and put the entire town to sleep.

The fairy tale town of Labro.

Leaving Labro we drove back to Soriano.  We felt like staying in tonight so I cooked up some pasta, asparagus and garlic bread that we had bought a few days ago at the local markets.  With it we opened a 6 euro bottle of wine again from a local shop.  Eric said, that was the best meal he'd had in Italy.  After dinner we took the rest of our wine up to the roof deck to watch the sunset.  It was breathtaking.  The swallows were flying above us catching their evening meal of bugs and a beautiful white dove landed on the roof next to ours...it was magical....until a swallow pooped on me!  Oh well, at least he missed my wine glass.

Me enjoying the peaceful courtyard of the Duomo in Spoleto.

Brunello and Brothers

Yesterday Ken and Brianna headed off to Pisa and Cinque Terre.  Eric and I stayed in the area to tour some wineries in southern Tuscany.  With GPS in hand (well, on the dashboard), we took off for our two hour drive to the city of Montalcino.

I had made advance reservations with two wineries, Frattoria Barbi and Poggio Antico.  At the first winery we met Laura our guide who took us on a private tour of the cellar.  She told us the "farm" (as they call it) has been owned by the Columbini family since the 1300's and in 1892, they began making the world famous Brunello wine.  Brunello is made from 100% San Giovase grapes which must be grown in clay soil and a warm, dry climate, with cool evenings.  Since Montalcino sits on a hilltop about 25 miles from the sea, the conditions are perfect.

At the end of the tour, she took us through the family's private wine cellar.  We walked through a maze of underground caverns (dank and musty) until we reached the wine vault.  In the vault was floor to ceiling bottles of wine, each section labeled with the year of production.  The vault was just as you would imagine, cool, dark, and the bottles of wine covered in dust.  I asked if the family still had the first bottle of wine they made, and sure enough she led us to a little door about 4 feet tall.  The door was covered with wine labels and had a small diamond shaped screen in it.  We looked through the screen, and there on the shelf in front of us, laying on it's side, covered in dust with a faded ribbon around it was a bottle with a label that said 1892.

The dusty wine cellar of Frattoria Barbi.

After touring Frattoria Barbi, we went in search of lunch.  We have found that when we are ready to eat lunch, the rest of Italy is ready to take siesta, and finding a spot to eat has been a challenge.  Eric managed to drive the car through the narrow medievial streets of Montalcino and found a parking space at the edge of a cliff.  We wandered a few blocks and stumbled upon Ristorante Giradino (Garden Restaurant).  Eric and I each ordered the pecorino cheese (a specialty of the area) ravioli with a mushroom cream sauce and a glass of Pinot Grigio.  For desert Eric had a cheesecake topped with strawberries and I had a chocolate lava cake....it was our most expensive, but also our best meal we've had in Italy.  When we commented on this to the couple at the table next to us, they laughed because the chef is American!  Nonetheless the food was spectacular and well worth the price.

After lunch we raced out the door to make our appointment at the next winery, Poggio Antico.  Whereas the first winery we visited was old, housed in a stone farmhouse with dusty cellars, and huge french oak barrels, Poggio Antico is new and modern with bright and clean celler housing Jetson looking steel kegs.  At Frattoria Barbi making wine is an art, an act of love, at Poggio Antico, it is a science and a business.

The clean cellars of Poggio Antico.

Our guide at Poggio Antico was Kim, a native Californian who came to Italy to study archeology and fell in love so stayed. She explained how the Italian government oversees the production of Brunello wine.  Winemakers must follow exact specifications in the winemaking process in order to receive the special approved seal (applied to the neck of the bottle), in order to call their wine Brunello.  Brunello must be made from 100% San Giovese grapes from vines that are least three years old.  The vines are not allowed to be irrigated (other than by rain)...apparently, "making the vines suffer" produces a better grape.  The harvest must be done at a specified time in a specified way and the wine must be aged in the barrel for at least four years and in the bottle for at least one year.

This bottle proudly wears the government label saying it's good enough be called Brunello.

We learned a lot, tasted many varities, and bought several to take home with us, although I'm not sure how they will fit in our suitcase.  We asked about shipping, but it was 90 Euros for 3 bottles, we can almost buy our wine it's own seat on the plane for that price!

Eric says, "mmmmmm, tasty"

After our tours we drove another 10 km to Sant Antimo monastery.  The approach to the monastery is beautiful.  It sits nestled in a little valley, high up in the Tuscan hills.  We parked the car (had to pay 1.50 Euro to park) in the lot and walked to the monastary.  It was plain and simple inside, like you would expect.  Signs on the doors said "Silence" and "No foto during prayers".  We walked in and quietly viewed the tall arches, the simple wooden crucifix and the walkway circling the top of the bulding for the monks to pass through.  Standing there I heard something.  I said to Eric to listen carefully....you can hear the monks chanting...this was one of those amazing, rare experiences not too many people get to be a part of.  Then Eric smiled, turned his head and pointed at some speakers on the wall....it was recorded.  Just then one of the monks walked by us....wearing a short tunic and jeans.  Ok...well, my illusion was shattered...the monks sold out.  At least the building was beautiful.

The monastary of Sant Antimo.

Back home again to beautiful Soriano.  It was about 8:00 pm when we got home (Soriano is starting to feel like home....).  The town square was alive...the old men were out on the steps of the church talking, kids were in the street playing, the town's stray cats were heading to the butcher shop for their nightly scraps, and the duomo bells were ringing.  We went to dinner at Monk's Tavern.  We've been there enough for the staff to recognize us.  The owner seated us right away, the service was great, the food delicious, the tables full of townspeople...we felt like one of the family.  When we left the owner said goodbye and kissed my hand....yeah, I like Soriano.