You Can Bike Up That??? - A Bike Tour in Tuscany

Well if anyone ever offers you the opportunity to take a bike ride into Tuscany from Florence, do yourself a favor and train like you would for the Tour de France – there’s a reason why all those guys are so skinny with big calves. If the little “hills” I had to climb were any indication, I can only imagine what the French Alps have to offer.

I joined my fellow bikers for a brief van ride to the outskirts of Firenze (the Jersey version is Florence) for the start of our journey. Knowing how the Italians are amazing, not to mention lunatic, drivers, I was happy not to have to play Mario Andretti vs. Frogger on a bike through the streets of Florence.

I chose the I Bike Italy tour because their tagline read, “We promise, No Churches, No Museums and No Crowds.” After having walked through the throngs of humanity in both Florence and Rome by this point, I wanted a little solitude. I’m still amazed that so many tourists are happy being with 60 other people just like them to see the exact same things while following their guide’s umbrella. So much for the spirit of getting to “know” a place while you are visiting.

So the trip was from Firenze to Fiesole - a small town on a hilltop overlooking Florence. I had two compatriots on this mission – Deanna from New Zealand and Beatrice from Australia. Pir from Sweden was our guide. On brand new, 24 speed bikes we set out.

Now my mother, who is vastly more experienced with biking trips, warned me that if they were giving 24 speed bikes that I would be hitting some not so small hills on this run. Ah, that’s ok, I had just done the NYC 5 Borough Bike Tour – 50 miles and while it was hard I survived and could walk the next day. Of course that was in May and this was September, but I had been going to spin classes since then so I thought all would be ok. Right? Couldn’t have been more wrong. I want to have a serious conversation with the person who is running the spin program for the New York Sports Clubs. Their program, unless my friend Donna is teaching it, does diddly-squat on real terrain.

Unfortunately when I hit the first hill, this newly acquired knowledge did zip for helping me get up the hill. It was the easy one, I later found out, as was the tour that I did – a level 1. I completely can see me lying by the side of the road with one leg in ditch A and the other in ditch B with my body in limbo somewhere along the yellow center line - if I had done the level 2 ride.

For the first three hours we chugged along winding roads that were at a 25-30% grade for approximately 8 kilometers. I’m told it was beautiful… and my pictures of it show it was, but my eyes were so bloody from the strain that all I remember is everything being more than a little fuzzy.

I finally realized that I needed some inspirational music to make it so I dug out the iPod and dialed up my “Dance” playlist – starting with Gnarls Barkley’s Crazy (seemed appropriate) and making my way through eight or nine funky beats. Good but not perfect, then I finally found manna… Mary J. Blige’s Family Affair and Missy Elliot’s Lose Control. I will say it was Mary and Missy who got me through this stretch. It was only about 10 km to finally get to the leveling point but it was the longest 3 hours of my life. But when you got to the top… WOW - What a View!!

Along the way we passed the villas that were used in “Room with a View” and “Tea with Mussolini” along with the Versace and Ferragamo “outside town” residences. Spectacular views, beautiful vineyards and olive groves. Along with many of those “creepy trees” – cypress trees – mentioned in "Under the Tuscan Sun". It’s clear to see why so many movie producers have used Tuscany as their backdrop for setting their romantic stories. The colors – even after the height of sunflower season – are still spectacular.
We ended our uphill journey at the Fattoria Montereggi winery. A winery that produces about 60,000 bottles per year of reserve Chianti’s and dessert wines along with its own olive oils. We had a 2001 Reserve Chianti – okay two bottles if you want to be specific – and sandwiches of ham, buffalo mozzarella on foccacia, while sitting under kiwi vines in the yard next to the wine processing facility. It was all ours. No other tourists, just us, the farm cats and the winery dog (what a life he had). It was easy to lose a couple hours here.

I had told Pir that I needed to find an olive tree to hug. Everyone knows that if you hug an olive tree that your dream will come true, right? He gave me directions to the olive grove and I led the rest of the girls on a “Wish Tour.” He already lived there so I guess he didn’t need any wishes fulfilled.

We found the perfect tree and took turns taking pictures with it, forgetting to make the wish the first time, so we had to do it again. Deanna was the one who provided the blood sacrifice needed by scraping her arm down the branch of the tree and ensuring that our dreams would come true. Mine did.

Unfortunately we did need to get back to town but the good part was that it was all downhill from here… fast downhill. At one point Bea – being the true Aussie – went on walkabout leaving us to follow her down the hill on a more off the beaten path route. This was the second Aussie that Pir had lost in as many days. From that point on he was going to make the Aussies bring up the rear.

However, there are advantages of going where your spirit takes you – the road we took was much more narrow and brought us up close and personal with vineyards and a couple of Fiat’s. It was the Italian ride that they use in movies though. So bringing the iPod out one more time I plugged in my “Italian Music” playlist and flew down the mountain singing Pavarotti’s Nessun Dorma and Bocelli’s Con te Partiro… Carmella on the Sopranos couldn’t have planned that better. The quintessential Italian moment… a little lit on Chianti, full of olives and cheese and flying straight downhill through green, gold and purple vineyards. Completely breathtaking experience that I wouldn’t have passed up for anything… regardless of my aching legs the next day when running for the train.

At the end of this, all I can say is that the Italians are smart… instead of killing themselves to get to beautiful places like the winery, they created Vespas. Ciao!

Hello everyone,

I apologize for the trip silence. It turns out it was much more difficult than expected to make entries to the blog while away. I will post a full account in the next couple of days once I find which time zone I'm in and in what country.

Jkam

Off to the land of the Ceasars....

So with visions of a Roman Holiday, Room with a View, Enchanted April, Under the Tuscan Sun, the Talented Mr. Ripley and Gladiator in my head - I grab my 500 lb suitcase and my 200 lb backpack and head out... it's just the essentials, I swear. It's time to finally put these Italian lessons to good use. Ciao!

"The beating heart of Rome is not the marble of the Senate. It is the sand of the Colosseum."

If I Ziploc my panties can I take another pair of jeans?
OR The effective use of a crowbar for international packing...

"Is there anything as horrible as starting on a trip? Once you're off, that's all right, but the last moments are earthquake and convulsion, and the feeling that you a snail being pulled off your rock."
Anne Morrow Lindberg


Italy is just around the corner and the biggest challenge of the whole pre-trip was surmounted today... the packing.

We've all been on big trips and this is a bridge we all have to cross in our own way. Some people who I know take everything and vacuum suck it down to fit it in the bag... what you do on the other side when you open the bag and are without a vacuum on the other end with a room full of clothes, I never quite knew... so not an option for me. Others are those mysterious people who can pack for 3 months in a backpack and have extra room for granola bars and a copy of On the Road by Kerouac. These are also the people who didn't fill up a 26' truck plus 1/2 when she moved... obviously not me again. There are people who go overseas and actually do laundry... uh, barely do it at home, not gonna do it on the road... next. Then there's the "grip it and rip it" crew. Those master packers who can fit 75 + items in one checked bag.... stretching the limits of physics and the scales of the Lufthansa counter. This is where I securely belong.

Yes, 12 days in Italy that includes not only sightseeing but formal affairs will not make for economical packing. Latest count had 3 formal dresses, 6 tank tops, 2 long sleeve shirts, 17 shirts, 3 pr jeans, 2 skirts, 2 dresses (casual), 3 sweaters, 2 bathing suits w/cover, 18 pr underwear, 6 bras, 1 pr long pjs, 1 pr short pjs, 4 pr socks, hairdryer, makeup (tbadded) - rotten terrorists!, toiletry bag, 5 pair of shoes. As you can see from the first picture quite a bunch of stacks... this looks like a case for...

Super Packing Woman (aka the Master Packer)

This is the only time when being petite has its benefits. If I was a normal-sized person there is no way this would work. Between folding shirts into tiny bundles, ziplocking underwear and the latest in compression technology, I got all of it into 1 Samsonite bag. Don't believe me, look...












Of course I may not be able to get anything out, or lift it up the many steps I've heard about in Italy but one challenge at a time please. Next up...

It's Finally Here - last blog before getting on the plane. Stay tuned!