Castelmezzano special for its attractions and its human energy

Italian hilltop and hillside villages are among my favorite things in life, and I’ve found a pearl in Castelmezzano, a village perched on the side of the rugged Dolomiti Lucane in Basilicata. It’s been described in tourist brochures as a “small nativity scene suspended in time and nature.”

Lucy stands in front of some interesting rock formations. This photo is also significant because it 
shows the zipline cable for the Volo dell'Angelo. It is not easy to see in the sky, but you may be 
able to see the five balls that are attached on a parallel cable used to warn off airplane pilots,
which start just above the height of Lucy's head. This gives an idea of how high the zipline
is above the valley below.

The rock formations above and around the village are fascinating in shape, size and texture, and it’s a superb location for trekking on mountain trails or for rock climbing. Two of the top three attractions are hiking trails (the Volo dell’Angelo is number 1), and the fourth is the Salemm via ferrata—iron path—which is a protected climbing route with preset pitons and steel cables. Two members of our traveling party have done all the top three. Lucy and I passed on number 3, a strenuous four-hour hike from Castelmezzano to Pietrapertosa and back called the Le Sette Pietre, but Dave and Wendy toughed it out.

Delirium

Le Sette Pietre is more than a hike, because there are seven stations that coincide with a book written by a local author who tells a story based on Southern Italian legends. I haven’t read the book, which is written only in Italian, but it is named Vito Ballava con le Streghe, (Vito Danced with the Witches). A recorded voice in Italian tells a part of the story at each station. The hike has been turned into a multi-sensory cultural experience interwoven with nature and history. The sculptures, the narrations, and the ancient ruins draw trekkers into local folklore, inside a story of a farmer who fell under the spell of a witch and married her. Each sculpture along the path represents one of the themes evoked in the tale, including delirium, dance, flight, enchantment and destiny.

We did attraction number 2 yesterday, the Gradinata Normanna, a scenic climb into the rocks above the town to experience the morning sunrise. While dark clouds prevented a more spectacular view toward the eastern horizon, we still enjoyed great views of the valleys and both Castelmezzano and Pietrapertosa. Huge rocks jutted up severely, and wind and water erosion created some unusual textures that reminded me of drawings I’ve seen of diseased alveoli cross sections (in human lungs).

However, the most evocative attraction on the hike was the gradinata itself—the Norman staircase, an extraordinary work of which has to be seen to be appreciated. Somehow laborers carved a staircase into an incredibly large boulder that juts into the sky. It’s hard to imagine the bravery it would have taken to build the staircase and then ascend it to serve guard duty.

Only the bravest of warriors would attempt
this climb, and here is one of them.

Literature on the town website provides further explanation: “Who went up there? Because if it takes a high self-control to climb it, it takes even stronger nerves to descend. The slope is record-breaking, railings and holds are absent, and sudden and violent gusts of wind must always be taken into account. There are two categories of soldiers destined to reach the top at the guard post: men of singular courage and dexterity and . . . men being punished. Few could have the courage to defy the law of gravity and the frightening call of the void. So, if the same (few) men could not always go to the top of the dizzying observatory, the soldiers guilty of drunkenness, harassment, indiscipline, insubordination would serve to cover the gaps in the guard shifts. Who knows how many of those wretches fell before arriving at the top or during the most difficult descent phase?”

The entrance is blocked off, though Dave, obviously the most fearless member of our travel group, did his best to bypass the locked gate. I’m sure he would have been able to reach the top had he only been able to reach the lower steps. Much to everyone’s relief (especially Dave’s), he was not able to access the gradinata starting point. And if you don’t realize it yet, he was only fooling around so we could take a photo of him pretending to be eager to climb to the top. He has a penchant for setting up goofy photos at scenic viewpoints.

Dave also attempted the via ferrata without any gear.

The town website does say that it is possible to climb to the top at certain times using cables for railings and wearing safety harnesses, but that must be possible only on peak days of the tourist season. We spent an hour taking photos at various viewpoints and did not see another soul.

The town itself, though, should be listed as a top attraction, as the streets and buildings are stunningly picturesque. While this in itself is not unusual for Italy, what makes it different from many small mountain villages is that it is still very lively, with locals sitting outside, chatting, playing cards or going about their daily business. Many remote Italian towns have suffered from a drastic reduction in population, and once the people start leaving, the restaurants, grocery stores and other services shut down. Not so in Castelmezzano, though, probably because of the trails and ziplines, and that makes it special—a delightful small village bustling, sparkling and full of life—a true gem.

Castelmezzano viewed from the trail above.

Zipline between mountain towns gives new meaning to phrase, “I gotta fly.”

Dave flies in from Pietrapertosa.

It’s called the Flight of the Angel, but “Fly Like Superman” might be a more appropriate name. Whatever you call it, soaring headfirst across a mountain valley on a steel zipline is an exhilarating experience that challenges the ordinary person’s boundaries of derring-do.

We hike up above Castelmezzano to start our Flight of the Angel.

When I first considered where to vacation in Southern Italy with a group of friends, the beauty of the hill towns of Basilicata caught my eye. But once I saw a video of people safely soaring nearly 3,000 feet above a valley that separates two of the most interesting cliffside towns in Italy, I knew this had to be on our list.

Castelmezzano (where we are staying for four days) and nearby Pietrapertosa, both seemingly glued onto the side of unusual rock formations, are incredible towns in their own right. They are part of I Borghi più Belli d’Italia—the most beautiful villages in Italy—by an Italian association that notes small towns of strong artistic and historical interest.

. . . and it was not an easy half-hour hike.

In 2007 Castelmezzano was chosen by Budget Travel magazine among “The best places you’ve never heard of,” while The Telegraph included the city among its list of “Italy’s 19 most beautiful villages” in 2017, calling it “one of southern Italy’s most stunningly located villages.” CNN in 2019 listed Pietropertosa, the highest town in Basilicata, among “20 of the most beautiful villages in Italy.”

Even with these distinctions, the towns suffered from a common problem among isolated Italian hill towns—dwindling population because of their remoteness. But Il Volo dell’Angelo has done wonders for the economies of these two villages. When we arrived at noon on a Sunday in late September, we could scarcely find a place to park in the outskirts of Castelmezzano. We had planned to take our flights the following day, but our bed and breakfast host informed us that the Volo only operates on weekends at this time of year. He made a quick phone call to reserve our spots, and we hustled to the ticket booth to receive instructions about how to arrive at the launching point. We bought our tickets and went back to our rooms, where we had an hour to eat lunch, catch a quick rest and make mental preparations.

With my helmet tipped back, I could see ahead, but it's still not easy to hold that position.

We learned that there are two zip lines between the towns, with different start and finish points. At 2:45 p.m., we caught a shuttle bus to our departure point. Well, not quite the starting point, because we still faced a moderately strenuous but beautiful and scenic 30-minute hike to a high rocky summit where our first flight would commence. At a shed at the top, helpful guides outfitted us with helmets and harnesses that we’d need to be fastened to the sturdy 4767-foot-long steel cable that runs to just outside of Pietrapertosa. We were told that another shuttle bus would take us into Pietropertosa, and we would have a couple of hours to explore it before taking the return zip line back to a point just above Castlemezzano, where another shuttle would return us to our point of origin.

The Norman castle in Pietrapertosa.

Were we scared? Of course, but I think a couple of factors helped keep us calm. One was knowing that thousands of people have already done the flight safely, so in that respect, this would be way safer than driving a car in Italy. The other is that putting on all the gear and following instructions to put ourselves in the proper prone flying position distracted us. From a standing position, we were told to fall forward, trusting that the harness would prevent us from doing a face-plant on the platform. Then we had to lift our legs and push out while the flight assistants secured our feet in a stirrup. Our hands had to go behind our backs; it was not permitted to put them out like wings or in front of us like Superman. As I looked down on the platform, I read a sign written only in Italian advising me to look up at the end, as someone would be taking a photo as we came in for a landing.

As I took off and gained speed, I was further distracted by the fact that my helmet was down so low on my forehead that I couldn’t really look ahead. I wasn’t sure if putting my hands out to adjust it might somehow throw me off balance, so I satisfied myself with just looking down and enjoying the view. Traveling at a speed of 120 kph (74 mph) with my eyes watering on a flight that lasted a little more than a minute, I can’t say I fully appreciated the scenic splendors beneath me. Toward the end, I did reach up one hand and push my helmet back, with no loss of balance; I should have just done that at the beginning.

Braking is automatic but a bit abrupt and does not take place until one is right over the small exit platform, which could be unsettling for a person who lacks trust in the process. When my pulley mechanism hit the brake apparatus, it made a “chunk” sound, and for a split second I thought I had struck my chest on the platform, though in reality I passed several feet above it. I continued on past the platform, but the elastic band of the brake then pulled me backwards for an easy dismount.

My three traveling companions had all gone before me and described similar experiences. Lucy’s helmet had been too small and also prevented her from looking forward. She felt a little afraid in the first seconds, but then, she said, “I thought back to a hot air balloon ride I had once taken, where you’re way up there but can’t do anything about it, so you just go along with it.

“I decided to use the time to talk to God,” Lucy said. “I prayed for different people in need. I thanked God for the world he made and for my husband. Then I just looked down and saw the trees below that looked like shoots of broccoli.”

Wendy smiles after landing.

“When I first heard about this, I really didn’t think I would do it, and afterwards I couldn’t believe I had done it,” Wendy said. “My heart was racing from the excitement and the jerking stop. But it went by too fast.”

“I was anticipating how they were going to strap you in and wondering how I would keep my eyes open when I went over the edge,” Dave said.
“This kept me from thinking too much about how high off the ground I would be. It wasn’t like a sudden fall on a bungee jump; you just glide smoothly off because the tension on the line was constant.”

"I can't believe I did it!!"

After a nice stroll through Pietrapertosa, we had a good view of a 1,000-year-old Norman castle while waiting for our names to be called for the return flight. We all enjoyed the trip back more than the first crossing. Lucy’s helmet fit properly this time, and I pushed mine back before takeoff. Dave had his GoPro camera fastened to his helmet instead of his waist, so this time he could record what he saw. We knew what to expect and could be more aware of the scenery and the feeling of flying.

At 45 euros per person (it costs less on weekdays in the summer), this was an expensive excursion, but we have no regrets and would gladly do it again. Though the actual time on the line is short, the experience also includes hikes through Castelmezzano and Pietrapertosa, not to mention the scenic but challenging hike to the

first launching point. Luckily we did it in late September instead of July or August, because the temperature was mild and the crowds small. I would not want to do this in 90-degree-plus temperatures and then have to wait two hours in line. I also wish the zipline had not gone so fast so I could have enjoyed the scenery more, and it would have helped if I could have been in a slightly more upright position. Did Superman get a sore neck from looking straight ahead all the time?

Don't visit Matera without hiking the Murgia Materana, if at all possible

Matera is no doubt one of the most interesting—and controversial—cities in Italy. Much has been written about it, but even after having spent a week here visiting sites and reading articles and a few books, I don’t feel confident weighing judgment on the job the government has done in managing the many issues the city has faced in the past 100 years. Nor do I feel up to the task of reviewing those issues in my blog, as doing justice to such a project would require an entire book. Instead, I will take on the smaller task of writing about one of the sometimes overlooked jewels of a visit to Matera—a hike in the Parco Regionale della Murgia Materana.

Matera at sunrise--a good reason to get up early.

The park consists of a rocky hillside on the far side of the valley across from the city. It can be reached by hiking down a trail from the city and crossing a cute suspension bridge which overlooks a stream called Torrente Gravina. One can also take a bus from the city and arrive at the top of the park, which saves a bit of walking. However, it only takes 15-20 minutes to walk from the city down to the bridge, so we chose the extra hike over driving or taking the bus. Even if you take the bus, you’ll still want to walk down to the bridge, so my advice is to just start in Matera.

Lucy made it down and up the valley without problems!

Lucy initially said she was not coming, and we were surprised when she woke up early and eager to go. “I figured I’d never be here again, or at least if I did come here in the future, I’d no longer be young enough to do this,” she said.

Me on the bridge

She actually did great, outpacing me at times and showing she is nearly fully recovered from breaking her foot and ankle less than two years ago. “But don’t expect to be able to do much else the rest of the day if you’re 69 years old,” she added.

September is a perfect month to hike the Murgia, as the weather is likely to only reach the high 70s or low 80s, even in mid-afternoon. However, the best time to start the hike is between 6 and 7 a.m., as you’ll be able to enjoy the sun rise, you’ll avoid the crowds, and you’ll finish before the sun is scorching hot. I’d recommend bringing a map or guidebook, so you know which caves were used as churches and have some artwork still visible on the walls. The art is more than a thousand years old, left over from when Byzantine Christians had to scatter because of unrest and violence in Eastern Europe and Asia.

Dave under the bridge.

A walking stick can help you maintain your balance when maneuvering over the rock terrain, and packing plenty of water is a must. We were gone for three or four hours, but we could easily have explored for another hour, especially if we had brought sack lunches to provide a mid-hike rest and some nourishment.

Matera viewed from inside a cave on the Murgia side of the valley.

It’s not my habit to post blogs that are primarily visual, so I’ll sort through my collection of photos and share just a handful of my favorites. My advice is to do the hike yourself, if at all possible, and come up with your own photo collection.

Wendy exiles Dave to a deep, water-filled cave.

“It was spectacular, amazing, awesome,” said Wendy Post, one of my travel partners. “The little cave churches were stunning. It was so nice to be there before tons of people arrived. We saw a herd of cows moseying down the hill. Coming back, though, there were a ton of people, and you had to wait in line to cross the bridge.”

Our other hiking partner, Dave Mullet, emphasized the importance of getting an early start. “The caves were nice to see,” he said, “but the best part for me was just enjoying the peace and quiet of being out when nobody else was on the trails. By leaving early, we escaped both the crowds and the heat. Of course, the views of Matera were spectacular.”

Dave in a cave.

Lucy on the roof of a former cave dwelling.

This rock looks like it's about to slip off into the valley.

Our secret wilderness preserve is a hit with our American visitors

Lucy and I have a policy with friends who come to visit from the states: If they want to see Florence, Pisa, Lucca, Cinque Terre, Viareggio or other nearby attractions, we’ll take them to and from the train station and they are welcome to go on their own. We’ve seen these places—all beautiful and worthwhile destinations—often enough that we have no particular desire to go again as tourists. But if our guests want to go with us to one of our favorite local hangouts, we’re all in. This week, one of those locations that friends Dave and Wendy desired to see was the Lago di Sibolla, which is only about 10 minutes away but seems to be part of another world. Dave is a retired teacher of biology and other natural sciences, and Wendy is an avid hiker, so they chose this hidden gem in favor of the usual tourist destinations (Lucy chose to rest at home this time).

The lake—centuries ago much larger but now more a series of swamps—is a wilderness preserve rarely frequented even by locals. Lucy and I have been there probably a dozen times and have only seen another person once or twice. The main entrances are blocked off. I think they are only opened a few times a year for guided tours. However, seven years ago, I discovered a secret side entrance while exploring a dead end road on my bike and looking for a shortcut between Altopascio and San Salvatore.

Dave and I in search of a trail.

The preserve has at least a half dozen aging interpretive signs written in both Italian and English, so it seems that at one time it was designed to be open to the public on a regular basis. Perhaps because of budget cuts or general lack of interest, the preserve has been ignored and mostly forgotten. Every time I go there, the trails become more overgrown, the ponds and signs more hidden, the ducks, egrets and herons more difficult to see because of the underbrush. I intended to take Dave and Wendy on a loop trail that I had last accessed two years prior, but we couldn’t fight our way through the blackberry bushes that had grown up about halfway through the loop. We got close enough to hear the ducks quacking, but not enough to see them.

Evidence of cinghiali,
with a 50 centesimi piece
for perspective.

We did see many signs of cinghiali (wild pigs) and more droppings that I believe to be of lupi (wolves) and conigli (rabbits), but the only things alive we saw were slugs, snails, a lizard and lots of bugs in the air and on the ground. But then we started again on the loop trail but from the other side. I had almost missed this on the way in because the beginning was so overgrown, but I recognized it on the second pass, and lucky thing, because after we followed it for 10 minutes, we found some muddy ponds teaming with water bugs. Further on, we hit the jackpot, a large lake that even Lucy and I had never seen in previous years because the trail to it is under water during the spring and fall. Now we saw the ducks, egrets and herons—though the majority of them were in flight on their way to other hidden ponds in the preserve. We could also see numerous fish jumping, something new for me.

All in all, we spent about two hours hiking, taking photos and just admiring the quiet, scenic surroundings. It’s a marvel that this wilderness exists less than a mile from the bustling city of Altopascio and is known to few people but instead is home to many wild animals—even if they know enough to keep well away from the occasional human intruder. I’m sure they have no complaint that the preserve is almost forgotten by humankind.

This dead tree that still hasn't shed all its
cones is now a home for geckos, who live
in its crevices.

These plant clusters become floating islands during times of high water.

Herons seen only from a distance.

Can we survive in Montecarlo without a car? We’ll find out in October

The unpleasant discovery that the cost to rent a car in Italy has skyrocketed in the last two years has prompted me to once again consider buying e-bikes for our Montecarlo lives. I had anticipated a process of research and comparison shopping, but instead—uncharacteristically—I went home after a short conversation and medium-long test ride with a (nearly) brand new e-bike.

I had test-ridden an e-bike five years ago. An older Italian man had purchased it and didn’t like it, and he asked Franco Natali to help sell it for him. Franco let me ride it from Pescia to Montecarlo, and when I arrived dripping with sweat at my home, I knew immediately this bike was not powerful enough for me. It did get me up the hill, something our old mono-speed bikes could never do, but we were looking for something that we could comfortably ride from home to the Esselunga in Pescia or to our church in Altopascio. And, of course, back again, which is the real trick, since Montecarlo, as the name suggests, is a hill town 100 meters higher in elevation than Altopascio.

But technology has advanced, bike prices have dropped, and renting a car for two or three months will now cost us from $2,000 to $3,000. I figured that if we buy one bike this fall and then another next spring, we could save around $5,000—more than enough to buy two decent e-bikes.

A bike shop in Lucca that we used previously to rent bikes for guests has received high reviews, and the co-owners are very simpatici. Laurie is a transplanted American married to an Italian, Mauro. Both formerly raced bikes and have a ton of knowledge. Laurie is friendly, chatty and the kind of person who immediately inspires trust. She said we could easily buy a bike that would get me up the Montecarlo hill for around 1,500 euro. The current problem, though, is supply, as Covid has resulted in a shortage of parts for the factories, she said.

Laurie did have in the warehouse one 2020 Italwin, though, that had only been used as a rental a few times. She would sell it for 1,300 euros and throw in a helmet, and it would include a five-year warranty on the battery and a free tune-up when we come back in the spring. I took a test ride and came back with my mind made up.

Mauro said he would clean it up and check over all the components, and I could pick it up the next day, which I did. I took it on the train from Lucca to Altopascio, and then came the real test—Marginone to Montecarlo. I set the power to the highest setting and found I could easily surmount the incline, averaging between 17 and 23 kilometers per hour while pedaling easily, as if on a flat plane.

On via Roma, Montecarlo

For the ultimate test, I decided to ride up the wrong way on the one-way street leading to the Porta a Firenze, a steep incline, and from there try the even steeper grade up to via Roma. I made it most of the way, and to do so, I did work up a decent sweat in the 80-degree weather. Though I had to walk the last 20 meters or so, I was satisfied with the results, because I hadn’t really expected the bike to climb the steepest and roughest streets of an Italian hill town (I tried it again the next day with fresher legs and a bit more initial momentum, and I did make it all the way up).

Since we still have a car for the next few weeks, and two friends from America have just arrived, the bike won’t get a lot of use for the next few weeks. But when the guests leave, we’ll be turning in our rental car, and the bike will be thoroughly tested for the last three weeks of our current stay. If it passes, we’ll be getting a second one when we return in March.

Challenges mostly complete, we can truly relax and anticipate peaceful days

After a week of trouble-shooting, Lucy and I have begun to truly relax and experience what we love about being in Montecarlo—slow, simple and delicious food, warm weather, friendly people, creative and fascinating architecture, relaxing and uncluttered days, and the challenges and rewards of learning another language and culture.

One by one, obstacles have fallen by the wayside: parking permit obtained, utilities bills paid, gas turned back on, toilet flushes, Italian cell phones working, lost luggage delivered, house (mostly) cleaned up, flowers planted on our terrazina.

Waiting for missing suitcase.

Of these, the most frustrating was waiting for the missing suitcase. We arrived on a Friday, and the suitcase arrived on Saturday and was picked up by the courier service. Each day, we were promised delivery, and one of us had to stay home almost constantly in case the courier arrived. We didn’t have our phones working yet. Our old phone numbers had been reassigned to other people because of our long absence, and for our preferred phone plan, we had to wait until a new shipment of SIM chips arrived on Tuesday.

The courier service gave us the run-around. “We’ll check on it and call you back in 10 minutes.” No return call. Next day: “It will come today.” At 5:50 p.m. I called again. “We’ll call you back in 10 minutes.” No return call, and the office closed at 6, so there was nothing else to do but wait for the next morning. I called at 7:50 a.m., but there was no answer. I called 10 minutes later. By now, I didn’t have to give them the ticket number. They knew who I was and hung up on me. It was time to bring in the heavy artillery: Elena Benvenuti, a true force of nature.

Elena is a fiercely loyal friend, but if you are not her friend, she is simply fierce. While the lower-level employees tried to put her off, she persisted until she earned the voice of a supervisor. He first said he had been told that the suitcase had been delivered, but when assured that was not so, he turned sympathetic and cooperative.

“You should have heard me,” Elena told me later. “I was very heavy with him.” I wish I had been there, as listening to Elena negotiate is an experience worth paying for.

Lucy rejoices that jam from
Frank & Annette survived the
missing suitcase ordeal.

We were promised delivery by noon of the next day. We called several times ourselves to verify this deadline, and we received the same promise. From 8 a.m. to noon, I planted myself by the window and poked my head out at every passing vehicle. Several vans marked courier drove by. One even stopped for a few minutes and then drove on. At 11:45, Elena called and said she had been told the courier was almost there, and we went outside to wait by the door. As the clock tower was striking noon, an older gentleman in a small car drove up with a single cargo aboard—our red suitcase. I signed for it, and our long wait had ended.

We’ll never know why it took so long to arrive, or why it had been reported to the manager as having been delivered, but everything inside was in order; we were finally free to go wherever we wanted. We celebrated by going to the nursery and buying flowers, and then we took a trip to the used goods market, the cheese store and Esselunga, our favorite grocery store.

Getting the gas turned out could have been even more difficult than the luggage snafu, but once again we have Elena to thank. She called the gas company, and in a rapid-fire conversation that would have left me baffled had I made the call myself, found a quick solution. We had to go to the bank and pay the bill with an IBAN transfer, then photograph the receipts and email them to the gas company. We did that the next day, and the day after that, a technician showed up and we had hot water again—no more cold showers! We also emailed the same company the receipt showing we had paid the electric bill, because—Elena told us—they were just about to shut off our electricity as well.

I did handle the trip to the bank and phone store myself, and also the visit to the Municipio to get my parking permit, all of which required me to speak only Italian. I do much better in face-to-face encounters. Now we have a few days to fully enjoy ourselves before friends arrive on Wednesday. Heaven on earth!

I am ready to enjoy the sunset on our terrazzina with the flowers we bought at a local nursery.

Montecarlo has changed but little since we left two years ago

Dinner at the Festa del Vino, Montecarlo.

Lucy and I have missed two years of life in Montecarlo because of Covid. Well, not really two full years, because our plan for now is to live three or four months a year in Montecarlo and most of the other time in America. But
we missed being in Italy for all of 2020 and most of 2021, and that’s set back our Italian social life. It’s hard enough to develop bonds with people here with our limited contacts and language skills—not to mention that we are both introverts—but it’s impossible if one doesn’t see people at all.

The former bank across from our house.

Of course, it wouldn’t have helped much if we had been in Italy these last two years, because for much of that time, people were shut up in their homes, as we would have been as well. So in that respect, we can at least take comfort in the fact that we didn’t lose any ground by not being here. It’s as if Montecarlo was just frozen in time, while our lives in Gig Harbor basically moved ahead. We worked, we played, we visited with family and friends—outdoors, certainly—but we were never lonely or felt cooped up.

We are sad to see that the farmacia here has closed, and so has the bank and ATM that were conveniently right across from our house. Granted, the bank brought some noise and traffic, but our borgo seems less like a town without these two essential services. We are also down to one hole-in-the wall all-purpose grocery story instead of two, although that happened a couple of years prior to Covid. Fortunately, the women’s clothing store and the regionally famous shoe store survived.

Juri & Silvia outside their negozio.

The most visible change is that new restaurants have opened, the main street has become a ZTL (limited traffic zone) and many more tables for outside dining have been set up. Parking spaces have been reduced, and Via Roma is now a lively restaurant row. Another bright spot is a small women’s accessory store that has opened by the teatro—owned and operated by none other than Silvia Benedetti and Juri Nesti, our downstairs neighbors. Così Fan Tutte will be a nice place to show to our out-of-town visitors. Lucy already bought some orrechini—earrings—there.

The Trattoria di Montecarlo, ready to serve cena.

This is the first time we’ve been to Montecarlo in September, and it’s a perfect time to be here. The weather is like Gig Harbor in August—warm but not at all uncomfortable. Despite Covid restrictions, the town is still buzzing with activity, and for the first time, we were able to experience a little taste of the regionally famous Festa del Vino. Usually, this event occupies the entire town, but it was scaled back to provide more control. It was limited to three piazze, and reservations were required. Juri reserved us a space for a Sunday night dinner that included a sampling of five glasses of local wine (all refillable upon request—but it was already more vino than I have ever consumed at one meal). The exquisite five-course meal, prepared by two local restaurants, lasted nearly four hours and was worth every centesimo of the 35 euro per person cost. The ravioli was particularly remarkable, indescribably sweet and savory, but the antipasto and Italian taco were also memorable.

Check out the gorgeous antipasto!

We had our vaccination cards and temperature checked at the door upon entry. The evening was interspersed with explanations about each wine and dish, along with some guest speakers—including our neighbor, the illustrious Dottor Sergio Nelli—talking up a book on local history that is in the works.

Our progress in becoming more native is slow, and we know it will never be complete, but we feel a smidgeon more montecarlesi each time we are here. Hopefully, our progress will not be interrupted by any more anni pestilenti (years of pestilence) in the future.

Guest enjoy aperitivi during "happy hour" at Carlo IV

Life in Italy has its mundane aspects along with the sublime

What was it like to drive into Montecarlo and walk into our home after being away nearly two years? I felt an odd mixture of euphoria and depression.

Montecarlo looked vibrant and full of life, the streets crowded with tables packed with restaurant clients. The wine festival was in full swing. The weather here is perfect, sunny and in the mid- to high-70s during the daytime, perfect for outdoor dining—which is all that is permitted during current Covid regulations.

Entering our house, it looked the same, and we were reminded instantly of all the improvements we had made since we bought it in 2015—all new electrical outlets and circuits, a gorgeous wooden stairway to the attic, three operable skylights and a floor and walls in the attic, new paint in the hallway and main bedroom. The view from our terrazza is still breathtaking. The once crumbling stucco exterior has been refreshed and repainted. Our roof does not leak anymore. Our downstairs neighbors kindly left a basket of food in our kitchen with a welcoming message.

But then we started feeling weighed down with numerous problems we had to face. Calcium build-up in the water lines meant our toilet didn’t flush and the cold water tap in the bathroom sink didn’t work. The house, especially the bathroom, smelled terrible, the likely source being sewage gases coming up from the bidet drain after many months of disuse. The doorbell was inoperative, which meant we couldn’t open the door for guests without running down two flights of stairs. But we wouldn’t know if we had guests anyway, since the buzzer wouldn’t sound. This presents an additional problem, since one piece of luggage has been lost in transit and will eventually, we hope, be delivered by a currier, but how will we know when he arrives?

Our gas has been shut off for lack of payment, a byproduct of our bank account having been frozen for eight months because of my identity theft issue. Fortunately, the water and electricity were still on despite our unpaid bills (we received notice only two weeks ago that our bank account has finally been reactivated, two months after Simecom told us we were not responsible for the unpaid bills incurred by a fraudster in another city).

What else? Our Italian SIM cards are not longer valid because of inactivity, so we have to buy new SIM cards and will be assigned new phone numbers—but the phone store we use was out of cards for Digi Mobil Italia, and we will have to come back in a few days. We have no internet in our home, so we have to go to the gelateria, the library or a restaurant to make a connection.

However, this is our third day here, and the problems are gradually falling by the wayside. After I flushed the toilet numerous times, it started working properly. The doorbell didn’t work because I had turned off some unneeded circuits when we left the house two years ago, including the ones to the doorbell and oven. Running copious amounts of water down the bidet several times a day seems to have solved the odor problem. Our neighbor Juri says he will have his internet back up soon, and we can use it as we did in previous years.

And so, piano, piano (slowly, slowly), our remaining problems will get ironed out. Hopefully our luggage will arrive today, and Juri will fix his internet sooner rather than later. We will finish unpacking, we will clean our dirty floors, we will get our gas turned back on, we will hire a plumber, we will get our Italian phone numbers, we will throw out the two-year-old food in our cabinets—and we can start living la dolce vita once again. Rome was not built in a day.

Strangely enough, we did not need Covid tests—but our experience would be difficult to duplicate

After studying several documents and listening to advice from dozens of people about what we would need to travel to Italy this month, the answer is still a disappointing and inconclusive mystery. Sorry for those of you who were waiting to see a firm and final answer.

When United Airlines called a month ago to say our flight had to be changed, we opted for an overnight stay in Switzerland. While we enjoyed a nice afternoon in Zurich yesterday, I think it invalidated the chances of our situation serving as an example for other people. We were not asked to show our Covid vaccination cards when we boarded this morning in Switzerland, and to our surprise, we were not asked for ANYTHING at all when we landed in Florence. When we went to pick up our checked luggage, one piece was missing, and it took us about 40 minutes to fill out forms to have our luggage delivered to us later. By this time, all the other passengers had exited the airport, and thus we don’t know if they were asked for any documents. We just walked straight out of the airport and took the shuttle to the rental car offices.

Montecarlo, our Italian home town. It's about 20 minutes from Lucca.

It’s quite possible that the Florence airport is not following all the rules of protocol because of its small size. It only has a few direct flights from the United States, and our Swiss Airways flight was probably just considered a domestic flight from one European country to another. I really don’t know why it was all so easy, but you cannot compare our experience with other flights, especially those that are direct from the United States to one of Italy’s large airports. Don’t assume that our experience was in any way typical.

So in the end, we didn’t need Covid tests to enter, but the peace of mind we had knowing we had every document possibly required in hand outweighed any inconvenience we experienced to go get the tests. I am writing this from the sidewalk outside one of our favorite Montecarlo restaurants on a gorgeous sunny and mild Tuscan afternoon. Two months of “dolce far niente” await. Siamo contentissimi!

On our way to Italia . . . with negative Covid results now in hand

Waiting in San Francisco United lounge.

We’re finally on the way back to our Montecarlo home after nearly two years of forced exile because of Covid-19. When we made the reservation, Covid seemed to on its way out. We were double vaccinated in early spring, confident we would be able to travel in the fall. Having sold 90 percent of our summer asphalt maintenance business (Hurrah!), we decided to leave September 1 so we could attend the last weekend of Montecarlo’s wine festa.

But just two days before our flight, headlines and our Facebook group discussions were full of information about how Italy is now requiring a negative Covid test for entry. However, we were confused. After seeing the headlines about tests being needed, we read further down in the text, and the stories seemed to say that people who had been fully vaccinated were exempt.

I posted on one of my favorite Facebook groups, “Traveling to Italy,” that we did not have time to get a Covid test and would be going with our vaccination cards and would use our Italian identity cards as backup, but the majority of the comments said we would be denied boarding if we had not been tested. We made an appointment for free King County tests and altered our schedule to drive 45 minutes to Tukwila. The tests would be administered just 24 hours before our departure, but the website promised rapid results.

Meanwhile I filled out contact forms required by United Airlines, the Italian government and the Swiss government, since we would be spending a night in Zurich. The Switzerland stopover came about when United changed our reservation about a month ago because of a problem between United and Lufthansa. After filling out the form and reading the links from both United and Swiss Air (United put us on a Star Alliance flight with Swiss Air), the information seemed to say that we were supposed to have a negative test . . . but there were exemptions, and one was for people who were fully vaccinated no more than 12 months before arrival. This exemption applied to both Italy and Switzerland.

We were not able to check in online because of the new requirements, but when we reached the United desk at Seatac airport, check-in went fairly smoothly. The attendant looked up the requirements for Swizerland and Italy and asked for our negative test results, but when I pointed out the exemptions below the mention of the test requirements, she agreed that the vaccination cards we had were sufficient. We were given our boarding passes without showing our test results—good thing, because our negative results did not come to our cell phones until we were actually in the flight waiting area.

We are currently in the United lounge in San Francisco, with a three-hour layover before our Swiss Air flight. We expect to have to show our vaccination cards again for Swiss Air, and now we have negative Covid tests to show as well.

Had I known how easy—and free—it was to get our Covid tests, I wouldn’t have hesitated when the news of the new requirements came out. It’s just that we had so many things to do before our flight—packing, preparing for our house sitters, finishing striping a few parking lots—that I considered bypassing the swabs. We might have faced having to quarantine in our home, and we wouldn’t have minded that. But I’m thankful for the warnings I received from my Facebook group, even if they weren’t completely accurate. I don’t like leaving things to chance, and now I feel completely secure that the rest of our travel will go well. We won’t have to face getting Covid tests in Italy or any additional red tape we might have faced.