When I heard that there was a wine festival in Greve, Chianti, I think I was the first name on the sign-up sheet. It was another scenic drive, the rolling hills scattered with vineyards. Even though one of our fellow Ags had us stop because he was motion-sick, he couldn't have chosen a prettier place to throw up (love ya, Grant!)
It was positively delightful going from booth to booth, and talking to the wine producers. Even met a cute couple from Colorado, in Chianti for their honeymoon. Awww.
Also this weekend, we had a fantastic half-day of trekking and...more wine-tasting, yay! After breakfast (which by the way, for Italians means a selection of nothing but pastries and coffee), we leisurely walked down into the valley for a little wine and cheese. Afterwards, the pace began to pick up and we really roughed it for the next 2 hours. I love love love hiking.
But I love love love hiking even more when it finishes off with lunch at a vineyard!
The unfortunate thing about lunches at vineyards (as if there are any downsides, I mean, come on) is that they don't have easily-accessible potties. When I asked the co-owner, she pointed to what I thought was her house. Thankfully I had my girls Emmerson and Kristen with me when we knocked on the door of a fairly run-down house. A hairy, big-bellied Italian man, wearing nothing but his underwear stood in the doorway. He was quite happy to have such cute visitors and more than willing to lend me his "bathroom."
Upon our return, I told the family about my adventure and pointed to the house we trekked to. They had a pretty good laugh, and told me, "You are so brave! That is the home of the town drunk! You are our idol."
To which I thought, "Thanks! Can you adopt me now, and give me wine and delicious Tuscan food for the rest of my life?"
the Italians to the right of me
A taste of Italian humor:
wine vendor– "What's your name?"
wine vendor– "North or South?"