The Tufo Region of Maremma in Tuscany. Tuesday 29th September, 2009.

I had no idea when we returned to Tuscany, of just how many interesting and different regions there were all under the guise of the Tuscany name. Today we were off to the Tufo area, named so because of the tufo rock of the area.

We drove for some time, passing the lovely Scansano where we had been only days before celebrating the festival of the grape. Our first stop was at the little village of Montemarano which I had read was not to be missed. The information I had read was spot on. Montemarano was a quaint village, abundant with interesting and pretty piazzas at almost every turn. The houses often had pretty hand painted tiles welcoming those passing on the street. The piazzas were filled with pots of flowers, archways, old cobbles, fountains, neighbourhood cats, wrought iron window boxes, lovely old doors, and creepers that made their way around old doors and windows. The residents had their washing hung on lines outside their shuttered windows, just like ours in Castiglione. As we investigated the narrow lanes we saw the locals. An old lady in a typically Italian floral frock walked with her cat, talking softly to it as they went. A grey haired man with a slight stoop filled his bucket from the fountain in the Piazza and watered the thirsty plants near by. We followed the enticing aromas of cinghiale ragu and found its home where a couple had just finished eating. They spoke to us from high above as they leaned out their window overlooking the street where we walked. A little further along an old man sat in the sun outside his front door, this was the rhythm of his day and I suspect it had been for many years, he boasted to us that he was 90, he looked well for his age and I think you will find him sitting in this very spot, as long as the sun shines, for many years to come. I enjoy meeting and chatting to the locals, it always gives the places we visit so much colour.

We went inside the 14th century Chisea di San Giorgio which was pretty, its alter reminded me of a stage play with its ornate carved curtain pulled back by fat cherubs. The main street has a clatter of small shops, a local artisan of jewellery, a butcher and a specialist of local wines, coffee and food.

Before we left I stopped at the local shop to buy some cheese for our picnic today, I bought a fresh lobe of milky mozzarella and a generous wedge of salty and pale pecorino, hmm – roll on lunch time. We marvel at the general stores here. They sell so many lovely local specialities but their presentation inside and out leaves so much to be desired. Like the one today, so many are messy and disorganised. If they presented themselves like this back in Australia I am sure there would not be a customer to be seen. It all adds a local flavour though and the counter is always manned by a family member with a cheery greeting and as you leave you are always wished a happy day.

From near the shop there was a lovely vista of the hills and valleys surrounding the village. Groves of olive trees covered the rises in the hills, and a fig tree filled with green teardrop shaped fruits stood near us, just out of reach.

The next stop at the medieval village of Manciano was boring, boring, boring. I found out later that it is only visited now for its close proximity to the natural springs at Saturnia where people flock to bathe at the spa. If I were you visiting this area, I would drive on by because there is so much further up the road that will take your breath away.

Our tummies were beginning to growl, telling us it was time to look out for a picnic spot. We drove and drove until we rounded a corner to the most beautiful sight. It was a full panoramic view of the town of Pitigliano sitting on tippy-toes on an enormously high cliff of tufa stone, the cliff extended into walls of the houses made of the same cliff face, it was fascinating. All over the cliff face are caves, this area is famous for them. Many are now used for storing the local drop. More on Pitigliano later though.

We ate our picnic of focaccia bread, Tuscan prosciutto, pickled capsicums, pecorino, mozzarella, rocket leaves and tomato, it was sublime. The view of Pitigliano was our vista with a valley filled with English oak, European Ash, maple trees, hornbeams, poplars, willows and hazelnut trees, separating us from the town. The picnic and parking bay where we stopped was right beside Madonna delle Grazia.

Refueled once more, we drove past Pitigliano to come back later in the soft light late in the day, we continued onto Sorano. What a surprise this town was, it was utterly delightful and charming. There was not a word of English spoken, not even in the information office, and not a brochure in English either which was a shame. I gotta say that the French are streets ahead with catering for tourism. In almost every place we visited in France, there were English press files available, maps, brochures, everything one would need. In Italy it is a little bit more haphazard and fly by the seat of your pants, especially in the small villages which is a shame because they are so rich in history that visitors like us would like to know about the years of history before us.

We immediately loved Sorano. The town welcomes you with arches and no less than five fountains of spring water overlooking a deep, green valley running behind the town with a river running at its feet. AJ loved the cool spring water and washed his face in it; he felt weary after a belly full of lunch and needed reviving. A little shop featured work from a wood turner who uses the honey toned wood from the abundance of olive trees in the area. Inside the walls, as the afternoon wore on, local men ventured out to chat to one another as is the Italian way. It is a custom we like to watch, we like to see the local characters as they become animated with interactions. The far reaches of the town offer lovely valley views from Piazza del Poggio’s panoramic terrace. From here you can see caves dug deep into the tufa rock. It is such an interesting and unique landscape.

We had saved Pitigliano for JR’s favourite time of day, magic hour. He disappeared on arrival although AJ and I did keep seeing him as we all plotted the same course. We stood on an arched terrace at the beginning of the town, separating us from the green valley where we had lunched beside Madonna delle Grazie, it looked a picture in the far distance.

Local kids ran about the narrow streets playing chasy, stopping to drink from the flowing fountains dotted over the town, imagine never having to carry a drink bottle around. Palazo Orsini boasted a lovely courtyard with an old well and a doggy welcome from a friendly golden retriever who AJ stopped with for a while.

Gelato time again. Bar Centrale serves a beauty. JR returned to find us there and tagged his order onto ours the cheapskate! A gelato always recharges the batteries. JR had returned to tell us about a guy, Enrico Polidori, further up the road who specialises in all things to do with wild boar, AJ’s favourite, so we all headed up hill for a look. Enrico speaks not one word of English, he has specialised in wild boar for 20 years and began because it is a regional speciality that everyone loves. He has four small shops, each for a different purpose, sales, curing, drying, etc. Inside one was slabs of cinghiale marinating in wine, salt and herbs, inside another were rows of rosy pink boar meat gently swaying in a breeze made by fans that oscillated around the room, they were surrounded by so many legs of prosciutto it would have been impossible to count them. AJ chose some Coppiette Carne Cecca, thin strips of wild boar, air dried and spiced with star anise. They were so good we visited a second time for another helping. I liked them for their flavour and also, although they were air dried, they still had a tenderness about them, they were a real treat.

Along a little more I found a lovely lady sitting in the sun, sewing and doing embroidery, she had a wicker basket beside her and was happy to have a photo taken. All along the cliff side of the town, there were little vista points where you could drink in the view of the beautiful valley. Pitigliano is one of the most interesting and unique places I have seen on our travels, it’s a gem.

The lady in the tourism office at Pitigliano had told me not to miss the village of Sovana, its small with only about 100 residents. Although we were tired, we decided to visit Sovana and see what the fuss was about, we figured, if it was so small it would not take us long. The road leading into the village had an abundance of olive trees heavy with green orbs of fruit and had been recently laid with neat pavers, quite a novel sight in raggedy Italy. It was neat and reminded us of French villages, thus loosing appeal for AJ almost immediately. The sun was going down and cast a warm glow on the side of Cathedral of Saint Peter and Paul Il Duomo, which still has remains of the beginning of its creation in the 14th century. We went inside for a visit, it was unearthly and spiritual. Oposite the cathedral was a pretty garden maze and an olive grove, the sun became intensely red as it sank slowly to the ground. I picked three almost ripe figs from a tree near by. The ground around it was littered with overripe fruits that had fallen before I came. Where are you Manuella?

At the opposite end of the village stands Rocca Aldobrandesca fortress. It has stood here since the 11th century. At the bottom of its walls were two rickety picnic tables tucked under a persimmon tree. How wonderful it is to see exotic trees like this in public places that are full of fruit, knowing that one day they will be a feast for those who find them. Today the fruit was shiny and green and far from being able to be eaten, what a shame for me.

Homeward bound, we passed Pitigliano and stopped at our lunchtime picnic spot once more to admire the town as it was bathed in the night time’s golden light. What a picture it was.
Poor JR having to negotiate the twisty, narrow roads late at night, being harassed by the other drivers. We all agree we have never driven anywhere in the world that has such appalling drivers. They have no consideration for anyone else on the road; they are intimidating and abusive and display no care or concern for any of the road rules. We just tootle along and do the right thing as best we can but it is pretty hard with drivers appearing around bends with high beam blinding us. These incidents are not isolated, they are at almost every twist and turn and JR will be more than happy to hand in the car keys before our return to Rome on Saturday where our preferred mode of transport will be on foot.