How Does your Light Shine on the Road to Lamole?

Sadly, in the music world the phrase "another day another dollar," isn't quite the philosophy we subscribe to. Instead, we prefer the slightly modified version, "another week another concert." This week's song fest brought us atop a mountain to another lovely place here in Chianti callled Lamole. Much like Greve, Lamole is a sleepy, quaint little town famous for its scenery and of course (these Tuscans being the alchies they are) their wine. While we did enjoy a glass or two of Lamole's finest, most of our time in the town was spent in a little Catholic church performing the works of composers such as Mozart, Mussorgsky and Bolcom. The one thing I will say about Lamole...ITS ON TOP OF A MOUNTAIN. This, luckily for us, meant we got to experience something we haven't had the privelege of experiencing in almost two and a half weeks...a nice, hilly breeze. If I left Lamole remembering nothing but that breeze, then my friends, let that be enough. In true Italian fashion, the concert, scheduled to start at nine, commenced fashionably late (around ten). Needless to say...it was a long evening. One would think sleeping in the next day would be a given. Not in Greve, my friends. Every Saturday, round about six thirty a.m. trucks and tents make their way to the little piazza and begin laying a canopy over the sun soaked bricks.

Behold...the Greve market!

Oh how lovely you are, you silk tarps that house precious little knick knacks. But...can't I just sleep for a little while? Not on Leigh's watch! (In her defense, she did give me 'till about ten...which is more than reasonable.) As soon as we stepped outside, there was really only one appropriate thing to do...

Eat.

There were beautiful arrays of vegitation and fruit straight from the Tuscan country side. Green beans, zucchini, onions, tomatoes of course. Even some yellow melon-y things! But...it was Saturday! Healthy eating is like practicing sometimes, and noone practices on the weekends! (uh...that one can stay between us.)

No no, my friends. Instead we chose a much more appropriate Saturday breakfast choice...a jar of nutella. Obviously. As a saving grace, we also bought apples. Every one knows that if you spread nutella on apples, it makes it healthier, right? Right.

But, nutella aside, we still had a whole marketplace at our disposal. And, seeing as it only happens once a week, it would be silly not to take advantage. First stop: The Everything Fried Truck. So I may have made that name up (Leigh says its called the chicken truck) but tomato tomahto, right?

Whatever the name may be, the merchandise in this truck is pure gold. No, actually. Everything had a golden color. Because everything, yes, everything, is fried. We opted for the fried polenta with a side of french fries and, of course fried vegatables. Maybe we were feeling guilty about passing by all that tasty produce earlier. Problem solved! Why all vegetables aren't fried in a tempura batter is simply beyond me. I'm thinking of starting a new "Deep fry your veggies" movement. Slogan: "All the phytonutrients, twice the guilt!"

...it'll catch on.

After our quaint little meal, the next step was naturally to try on clothes. All the shoes at the market were too small for us, so we decided the next closest thing would be to try on ridiculous pants in a variety of colors. Leigh tried on a pair of definite winners, a rusty shade of burnt apricot made out of billowy linen. (She even got to use the sketchy van thing as a dressing room!)

As one may imagine, all that food, so little sleep, and so so many crazy pants made Leigh and Liz two sleepy girls. Most of the afternoon was spent unconcious. Fortunately (as explained in a previous post) mid-day sleeps are perfectly acceptable. Oh Italia, how I love thee!

Next thing on the list...WINE TASTING!

Now, I've never been to an actual wine tasting. After Saturday night...well...I've still never been to an actual wine tasting. What we went to, I'm sure, is one hundred times better. The lovely festa was put on by the chivalrous boys of Greve. And oh how wonderful they are! They did their very best to explain to us the differences between Chianti Classico and Chianti...um...not Classico? That part was lost on me. They also told us the Chianti legend. Something about Siena and Florence and roosters in black boxes. I'll have to take notes next time.

As it was, though, the wine was delicious, though they all started to taste the same to me after wine #3. Eventually, the formalities stopped and the guitars came out. Mario, Tomasso, Simone, Davide and Lorenzo took turns figuring out chord charts while we all struggled to remember the words to Hotel California and a plethora of Beatles songs.

In some evil turn of events, the boys tried to teach me how to make Pasta con Pomodoro, which is really just pasta with tomatoes and onions. Mario laughed at me for how funny I sliced the tomatoes, but judging from the giant scar on my hand, I don't think anyone was surprised that I'm not very skilled with sharp objects.

The night simmered down around two a.m. Fairly successful! Unfortunately, none of us remembered to bring the front door key to our hotel, so we ended up spending the night on the floor up in Casa Nova. Leigh did take snap a few pictures from the 7 a.m walk back, but I've decided to spare my lovely blog the travesty of those less than flattering photos. Now you may think we decided to take it easy and have a nice restful Sunday...but come on now...we're in ITALY! Be prepared for some over the top documentation of the less than fortunate Sunday excursion.

Until then, my friends.

Ciao

Liz