Report #3 — Not far from Arezzo is our villa. We arrived at the gate, and found Patty Matas and Linda Harvey waiting, bleary-eyed from an all-night train trip from Salzburg. We waited, fully cooperative with the instructions that we were NOT to arrive early. It was 3:30. Check-in was 4:30. We waited some more. Jane and Jim Grage arrived, and we waited. We called the assigned phone number and left a message in fractured Italian. “Noi siamo arrivano! Noi siamo a portare!” (We have arrived. We are at the gate.” No answer. Nobody came. Finally, Patty, Mike and Liz drove down to the tiny hamlet of Alberero, threw ourselves on the mercy of a woman in the Despar grocery store, and after much gesturing, realized she had called someone, they would be by to pick us up in 20 minutes, and we should wait. An hour and a half later, we gave up. Mike’s cell phone rang. It was our crew, calling from the villa. They were in. We drove back up the hill and joined them for our first night at Podere Miri.
Report #2 — Only a few short hours down the AutoStrada is the charming medieval town of Arezzo. Cobblestone streets, picturesque shops, and many fashionable women in impractical shoes. We arrived in the rain, and sought shelter at the first restaurant we could find. Ravioli with burro e salvia (butter and sage) for Mike and Liz and insalata (salad) for Patty. Our waiter, Marcello, was a great admirer of Mike’s iPhone. The rain let up and we wandered the town, where Mike was able to increase his collection of Italian door photos.
Report number one – Bologna: The flight was long, grueling and cramped but got us here in one (I guess two?) pieces. We took a bus from the airport to the center of the old city, got off at the first stop and ran into Patty on the crowded sidewalk in about three minutes! She had arrived the day before and led us to the hotel (which was great) and we checked in. Spent that day and the next seeing the sights and eating! Food is amazing, as was the fresh market. View the album of 130 photos. or
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Report #3 — Not far from Arezzo is our villa. We arrived at the gate, and found Patty Matas and Linda Harvey waiting, bleary-eyed from an all-night train trip from Salzburg. We waited, fully cooperative with the instructions that we were NOT to arrive early. It was 3:30. Check-in was 4:30. We waited some more. Jane and Jim Grage arrived, and we waited. We called the assigned phone number and left a message in fractured Italian. “Noi siamo arrivano! Noi siamo a portare!” (We have arrived. We are at the gate.” No answer. Nobody came. Finally, Patty, Mike and Liz drove down to the tiny hamlet of Alberero, threw ourselves on the mercy of a woman in the Despar grocery store, and after much gesturing, realized she had called someone, they would be by to pick us up in 20 minutes, and we should wait. An hour and a half later, we gave up. Mike’s cell phone rang. It was our crew, calling from the villa. They were in. We drove back up the hill and joined them for our first night at Podere Miri.
