If you’ve followed these blog stories about my big trip, you’ve probably seen that in picking areas to live, to settle for a month or more, I chose towns or cities that are lesser known, not famous or popular for travelers. That was partly to avoid tourists, and to seek more authentic settings where I could connect with the folks who live there. And choices were strongly driven by what was available & affordable to rent.
& So it was when I left for Italy from France at the beginning of September that year. Like for France, I scheduled six weeks in Italy—the first two+ in Tuscany, in a mid-size city called Poggibonsi. It’s an everyday town with a strange history, but perfectly located for day trips out to exquisite Tuscan centers: San Gimignano, Colle di Val d’Elsa, Florence, Certaldo, Siena. And I was able to book the most wonderful apartment ever~
It worked out great. The apartment was homey, beautiful and comfortable; my hostess Lisa (a singer!) is a lovely person who remains a friend. It’s about 20 minutes walking from the town center, and I’d begun to get comfortable with the trains already (taking, I believe, four different trains from Menton to Poggibonsi!)—and the bus was easy enough too—with its little office right on the square and live people to sell tickets and help :)
That said, it took me a while to warm to Poggibonsi—or it to me. The folks are provincial, suspicious, wary of strangers, the architecture so-so. What was I doing there? Besides my trips out to the above historical and cultural meccas, my life was characteristically quiet in my super-comfy-pleasant apartment. I did what I usually do—practice my songs (throughout that year I was working on three difficult, gorgeous Brazilian tunes), work on my manuscripts, prepare to perform—take care of business & myself & live everyday life.
But then I discovered the upper plateau, where the original town had been. Up above its river, the town had overlooked the ancient (Roman) Via Francigena for well over a thousand years. In 1270 the town was destroyed, completely decimated by the Florentines—who did not like paying fees to pass on the road and flexed their own sovereignty. Plus later lords wanted the plateau for themselves and their palaces and lands, and rebuilt the (current) town down by the river below. In the 14-1500s the Medicis began a HUGE palace etc., to cover the (very large!) plateau—this was never finished. But in the last 100 years or so, archaeological digs & various projects uncovered ruins of many settlements, most clearly beginning with a 6th century rural center evolving to a 9th century organized village, now reconstructed! —and a Huge, fantastic ceremonial fountain buried in the hillside but now restored & with art added. Thus I found my area there. With a long pleasant walk up, I loved to wander & try to picture the ancient villages and earlier town.
Both Lisa and I were hesitant about my performing a Pop-up Concert in Poggibonsi. They had organized concerts, but the police were characteristically controlling, the townspeople inflexible. I ended up singing my concert sitting on my wonderful adjoining deck, with the many apartment buildings all around. It wasn’t cold, so folks had their windows & doors open, and no one seemed to mind. And a sweet older woman below me danced alone in her kitchen and on her own deck the whole time—that did my heart good, and I hope hers.
My peak experience in Poggibonsi was when Lisa invited me to Sunday dinner with her boyfriend and parents. What a treat—we talked politics quite successfully, I thought—& music & culture & life. Which was, after all, one thing the whole trip was about! & I was touched that, at the end of my stay there (with Lisa gone performing~) her mom drove me in the rain to the remote bus-stop to catch the bus to Bari (with only one change, in Roma).
Bari was a wholly different experience, & I cannot recommend that city enough. When I think Poggibonsi, I think ponderous 18th/19th century square buildings. The dull modern supermarket, where security guards chased me yelling when I went out the wrong door. Bari is misty ancient streets with lights glowing, surprise neighborhoods around a turn, a square with alluring restaurants. The coast with its ancient caves (10,000-year-old meeting centers for the Adriatic & Ionian!). Bari is a big city, with a Huge! harbor—but the old city (vecchia) is an oblong peninsula with many historic buildings, levels, ramparts, plenty of locals but everything for tourists to get lost in. This was my first foray into southern Italy—people are more. . . effusive? Aggressive? Direct? Forthcoming? Above all, louder!
My apartment was owned by an older gentleman who worked in the country, supporting his rural life with his Air bnbs. It was very large, top-floor, from the front to the back of the building (= good ventilation!) in a working-class neighborhood near a grass roots market, schools, the lot. (I’d thought I’d reach the harbor from there but no: Zero access.) Its spaciousness was very pleasant, and I did fine, with my little balcony overlooking the street, and access to the roof deck! However, the 2nd day, I opened a window onto the staircase, and the entire window (with frame) fell out. A few days later while I was out, the kitchen completely flooded (I won’t explain . . .) luckily with nothing of mine on the floor. Soon after, the huge heavy glass mirror doors on the big bedroom wardrobe fell off—I couldn’t even lift them. He was, frankly, a buffoon—his solutions to all these were jury-rigged, admonishing me to watch this, be more careful, turn this and do that. Whatever.
Almost every day I walked to the old town, about 25 minutes, and soon found My Spot: a fish market/restaurant owned by a family living all around it—with all their relatives & friends & children endlessly moving through, eating working talking, yelling! Scrumptious seafood, 8-Euro crab sandwiches ohhhhh. . I confess I got into the (bad!) habit of an Aperol Spritz when I arrived around 1:30, maybe a glass of red too, lingering—and then I’d wander the old town the rest of the afternoon before heading home for dinner. Beautiful.
On the way from my apartment to the old town was a big park, a daily working-class park where everyone around went to walk, break from work, snack, play cards (the old guys), talk, sit—many came alone, somewhat unusual for Italy. Giardino Garibaldi. So that was the place, I decided, for my Pop-up Concert.
Which was, in a word, hilarious! I mean, I did the best I could—but everyone around, to a person (elders, children, workers, strolling couples passing from the fancier parts of town) began talking to me (some energetically!) while I was singing. I got the gist of their comments and questions—or maybe I didn’t—clearest was they liked this & wanted that, & why didn’t I go over here & there to such & such so I could make more money (everyone always thinking that was my goal). They were warm & engaging & funny—it was great!
I did take a day tour (my only tour that whole trip) to Matera and Alberobello.
Also a several-day road trip renting a car, to Otranto. [If you can, get yourself there.]
I’ll share a favorite moment not long before I left. I was at my restaurant, and I'd worked up the chutzpah and vocabulary to chat at some length with the waiter—the younger, for the older was always working too hard~ By then I‘d been there 2 or 3 times a week for the month. I said I was leaving soon & thanked him—& he said something about me & my husband. I said I was alone & he registered his shock, which was normal. But then this thing happened! Always at the restaurant were a bunch of guys, workers breaking for lunch, relatives or crew of the owner—who knows. The men always hung outside, the women never. My waiter friend went over to one of his compadres, and I kid you not—I could see this info move—each sidelong glance—like wildfire from one man to another along the perpendicular alleys that met at the restaurant. A woman alone! (There it is again!~) & these husky worker-men were strutting like peacocks! Standing straighter~ Posturing~ Subtle smiles. Chortling, whatever. . . Silly me, I was flattered!
It was a fine end to my time in beautiful Bari.
