Day 14 - Erbusco

I’m sitting here, writing this piece under a beautiful blue sky, the convertible roof open and the sun streaming in. It’s a glorious day as our trip winds down to its final two days and our plan for the day is simple. Do nothing.

Day 13 - Alba-Erbusco

Today, as the Boston Red Sox stand on the verge of their second World Series title in four years, it’s get away day for us. After 13 days, our trip is coming to a close and we are bound today from Piemonte to Lombardia, a few hours to the north, where we will set up camp for two days before taking a short drive to Milan’s Malpensa airport and our long flight home. But just like the Sox, we do not plan to coast home. There is much work to be done before claiming the trophy.

Day 12 - Pollenzo-Serralunga d'Asti

Whoever said that youth is wasted on the young never met these two guys.

Day 11 - Barolo

We awake to a cold, damp drizzle this morning, our first full day in the Piemonte region, having checked into our hotel near midnight the evening before. Our hotel, the Albergo dell’Agenzia, is located in Pollenzo, a small hamlet near the town of Bra and about a quarter hour from Alba

Day 10 - Bologna-Alba

Bologna. Most of us know it as an alternative spelling of baloney, the meat product, not the expression of disgust. But to Italians Bologna means cuisine, seriously good food that is not too serious.

Day 9 - Citta di Castello

I’m falling, falling, falling, twisting through the darkness, not knowing which way is up, not knowing how long I will fall or how long I have been falling. I am falling, falling, falling, corkscrewing through the inky blackness, unsure whether it is night or day, unaware whether it is hot or cold. I can feel nothing, see nothing, understand nothing. I simply go on, falling, unsure how I even know this, knowing not when or if it will end. It is dark, oh so completely dark. I can see nothing until I close my eyes and then I can see them, the smiling creatures, friendly yet menacing, heffalumps and woozles, Sgt. Pepper and his Lonely Hearts Club Band. I open my eyes so I cannot see them when, with a tremendous crash I hit the ground.

Day 8 - Todi-Foligno-Ponte San Giovanni

It is difficult to imagine that only 24 hours has elapsed since I last updated you as to our progress. When we were last together, Suzy and I were drifting off to a peaceful sleep at the beautiful Villa Tre Grazie near Todi in southern Umbria, having spent the day lurching from a wonderful cooking class, to a difficult real estate negotiation to a meeting with the villa’s caretaker to pick up the keys.

Day 7 - Santa Maria degli Angeli

Today is just fun. Really fun. Or at least most of it is.

Day 6 - Montefalco-Boston

Sox win! Sox win! Sox win!

Those beautiful words are replayed in the hearts and minds of the millions of faithful that comprise Red Sox Nation last night as they tuck themselves into bed, bleary eyed but dreaming dreams of a second World Series victory in three years. The game has been late, as have each of the games in this nail biting series, but it has been worth staying up for and now sleep awaits.
But for the sole representative of the Nation residing in Ponte San Giovanni, the clock is not so kind.

Day 5 - Ponte San Giovanni-Perugia

Chocolate is big business.

Day 4 - Ponte San Giovanni-Torgiano

The previous evening, with the wind at our backs and Florence in our rearview mirror we make the hour and a half drive through the Tuscan countryside toward Siena turning to the east past Lake Trasimeno to Ponte San Giovanni,

Day 3 - Florence

Let the food orgy begin.

When we last left you, dear reader, the sweat was drying on our tired bodies, having just scaled on bicycle the summit known as Fiesole (ok, perhaps a bit of an exaggeration) and having been returned to downtown Florence by our guide, enjoying the pleasures of an Italian haircut.

Day 2 - Florence

What fit of madness can explain why an overweight, unathletic, out of shape man in his late forties and his wife would choose to spend their first full day on vacation, after nearly twenty four hours of travelling across the world, on bicycles, pumping and straining to reach an ancient hilltown when a perfectly good city lay before them right at their feet?

Day 1 - Washington-Milan-Florence

Rather than a smooth, flowing moving picture, today’s account of our adventure is a choppy, jerky series of still images, garnered from snatches of consciousness and punctuated by periods of deep, if unrestful sleep. It is a travel day, from Washington, DC to Florence, by way of Philadelphia, Frankfurt and Milan,