Land of the Agriturismo

Gambassi Terme to San Gimignano

Via Francigena #17 of 20

I am often more comfortable in small towns than in larger cities when we travel. Whether it’s true or not, I feel safer and have the perception town people are more patient and willing to work with me. The people in Gambasi Termi did not disappoint.

We made sure to hit an alimentari (small grocery store) on the way out of town to stock up on supplies. The very helpful owner made us panini as Sandy left to take photos of the surroundings. I stayed behind.

The owner noticed the vestiges of my tandem rashes and grabbed two bananas, insisting I take them. He assured me in Italian, so I’m making some assumptions here, that he had the same struggle and the potassium in the bananas would help. I thanked him profusely and then asked to take a selfie with him.

We squeezed in close. I started popping off photos when suddenly, as a figure came in the front door he said, in Italian:

“Oh no! There’s my wife!”

Who knows this man’s history and sure enough she did not look too happy, so I took that as my cue and giggled my way outta dodge.

I try to be careful of doing “mind reads,” assuming what people are thinking by the look on their faces, particularly when they are studying or observing. Most people have no idea what they look like when not engaged with their face, and as a teacher I get to see that perspective often. I also have learned how often I’ve misinterpreted looks.

In a foreign country it’s easy to feel you stand out as “other,” and I find it very challenging to not assume what people are thinking when they are in their resting face.

I came upon a diminutive old Italian woman sitting on a stone fence, studying me. As she watched me closely I thought:

Ugh she hates me because I’m obviously a foreigner tromping through her streets in my contemporary clothing with my silly hair, my hideous socks n’ sandals and blah blah blah blah.

I decided to smile and gave her my best howdy. Her eyes lit up, she excitedly started pointing at my umbrella and clapping her hands. She all but high five’d me as she told me in Italian, so I’m making some assumptions here, how much she loved my umbrella and thank you for walking by with it as I had completely made her day.

Another mind read blown to shreds.

We have an hour of walking on narrow highways but developed a technique that works surprisingly well. In addition to walking towards traffic, with the inside hand do a quasi hello-wave, merging into an “I surrender” gesture. It appears walking in a safe way is almost considered an act of aggression, but if you are simultaneously submissively waving an imaginary white flag, suddenly cars with drivers in them magically behave themselves.

Today is the walk I thought we would have yesterday. It is quintessential Tuscany, with rolling hills, vineyards, rows of Italian Cypress trees, and agriturismos a plenty. These local farms offer accommodations and often produce their own wines. They are lovely.

See below for photos of a beautiful walk in rolling Tuscan hills along with commentary.

Previously on “The Moment,” Sandy and the panini maker discuss panini.

Why I never, ever want to bike a camino.

Vista shot featuring our new pilgrim friends Pat and Joe.

Winner of the best Popsicle Design Award. Yo can probably guess where I got it.

Towering towers, where the wealthy used to store their valuables.

And change it did! Thunder and lightning storm outside our cool little hotel window.

Oh ya. Burrata Caprese with crispy garlic toast literally swimming in olive oil.

Another Day, Another Camino

This Sucks, and I Knowingly Signed Up For It?

Theresa Elliott