Five Weeks in Italy: Part One

Open up and say “Yum Yum,” Steve! If you want to know how it came to be that Tate was feeding fellow Bay Area native Steve Mariucci a strawberry on the Piazza della Signoria in Florence, Italy, keep reading…
Getting There
Gentlemen, start your engines! The sabbatical has begun! Our flight from San Jose to London was relatively uneventful. The kids loved the portable televisions in business class (we wisely upgraded our seats). Dane watched a little Blue’s Clues and then he and Tate went off to La-La land. In London, we realized that we had brought way too much stuff. Not only was it difficult to unload, carry, haul, drag and throw 13 pieces of luggage and two kids through customs, across the airport, on and off a train, along the walk to the airport Hilton and into a hotel room, but we discovered that we and our luggage did NOT fit into the tiny hotel room unless we stacked everything in the corner and put Tate’s crib on top. This worked well until Tate woke in the middle of the night (which was actually daytime for him) and hit his head on the ceiling*. His shriek startled Daddy, who stepped out of a bed that was smaller than the one from his childhood, and onto Dane, who was sleeping on the floor between his parents!

Dane and Tate loved the 36-hour layover in London. They rode the Underground and a double-decker bus we nicknamed Bulgy. For those of you unfamiliar with the Thomas the Tank Engine series, Bulgy is a red double-decker bus with a devilish streak. Bulgy gave the Bessers a fine tour of central London. At Sloane Square, we found our way to the Orange Brewery, which has some fond memories for us. We visited here four years ago and enjoyed fish ‘n chips and British ale on the patio. The weather was not conducive to patio seating this time and we found that we could not brave the “Orange Smokery”, as we affectionately renamed it. We settled for a forgettable French meal at an out-of-the-way brassiere and departed for our Tuscan vacation the next morning.

*(Disclaimer: Kathy wants you to know that Paul is just kidding)

Staying There
The existence of expectations sets you up for disappointment. Based upon conversations with our agent, Paolo, we were expecting a remodeled villa on a private estate with its own olive grove, vineyards, private pool, tennis court, a chef’s kitchen, and deluxe accommodations with luxurious appointments. We were initially disappointed when we realized that the appointments were a little more rustic than we had expected. However, after two days in the rain and cold, two beautiful things happened. One, we adjusted our expectations, and two, the beautiful Tuscan sun finally came out. After seven days and a couple of fantastic home-cooked dinners with local wines, the place officially became charming! It had four bedrooms (each with its own bath) and three living rooms, all of which were loaded with antique dressers, buffets, chairs and tables. The villa is located at the end of a one-mile dirt road at the top of a mountain overlooking Florence, adjacent to the village of Malmantile.

Within 24 hours of arriving, the villa was full. Dane and Tate were excited to meet up with both sets of grandparents as well as our friend, Tracy. These familiar faces helped to ease their transition to Italy.

Getting Around There
Since my parents and Tracy had never been to Italy, our first week was dedicated to searching for Italian food and wine as well as exploring the surrounding region. We drove to Assisi, Siena, Florence, San Gimignano, Colle Val d’Elsa, and Volterra. As expected, we saw beautiful churches, old buildings, quaint houses, and charming streets. We were surprised by the size of the May crowds in some cities, were constantly reminded of the strength of the U.S. dollar, enjoyed awesome gelato on every corner, and were amazed at just how great the food in Italy is. Even though we were selective with our restaurant choices, we had forgotten just what a culinary and wine mecca this region is. I won’t attempt to describe the meals, but just say that a local trattoria is usually better than most U.S. Italian restaurants. With the strong dollar, gelato was only a buck and dinners (including wine, water, food, charm and tip) averaged $20 per person. We frequented some of our favorite local trattorias – Camillo, Pandemonio, and Cingiale Bianco. And just down the road from our villa, we found an organically-oriented estate, San Vito, whose tiny restaurant grew most of the items on the family-style menu including the wine, olive oil, honey and produce. This organic Italian trattoria was a unique and wonderful experience.

We were pleasantly surprised to learn that the sites within the city of Assisi are in great condition despite a somewhat recent earthquake. The presence of Etruscan walls and Roman theaters and baths in Volterra reminded us how short our time on earth has been and just how young the U.S. is in comparison. What will the track housing areas of the U.S. suburbs look like in 2300 years? What will have remained standing at that time?

Watching my parent’s faces light up with every breathtaking vista, street corner, beautiful doorway, and delicious meal made the traveling easier. Your first trip to Italy is unforgettable. Driving two hours is not hard for adults but was more challenging with small children in tow. We communicated between cars with walkie-talkies. Of course, code names became critical in these situations. The key drivers assumed the appropriate handles of Paolo Andretti (Paul Besser), Katerina Andretti (Kathy Besser), and PopPop Andretti (Paul Holland). Driving in Italy is as energizing as the local espresso. And combining the two is essential in traffic. Over our five weeks in Italy, I noted the following driving trends…

1. Cars can pass anywhere, anytime, and will do so. No matter the speed limit – 50, 90, 110 or 130 km/hr – rural route or crowded city street, if a car is going too slow, the Italians will pass at the slightest perceived break in traffic.

2. Stop signs are optional. Rarely does a car actually stop. My personal best speed for running a stop sign was 90 km/hr.

3. At least four cars will make it through the intersection on a yellow light. During my first week driving in Italy, I actually stopped on a yellow. Four cars swerved around my halted vehicle to run the red light!

4. Nobody does the speed limit, except tractors, three-wheeled trucks smaller than a Yugo, Fiat Puntos, and Panda 4x4s with 3” wide wheels.

5. Slower traffic keeps right. This is an actual law and a great idea! Cars only get in the left lane to pass, and return to the right lane as quickly as possible. Good thing that it is not taken personally when a car is on your bumper with lights flashing! And it is no big deal if the car that just passed you returns to your lane quickly so another car can pass you both.

6. Scooters Rule! After being here, we all wanted to get one (except Kathy, of course!). Scooter riders have an attitude all their own. The driver could be an 18-year old in full leather, an 80-year-old grandparent, or a businesswoman in a mini skirt and four-inch Gucci heels. Even though as you wait for a light scooters will surround your car and enter the intersection before you and drive 20 km/hr blocking the road, Italian drivers look out for them and avoid hitting them.

7. Cars will stick out in the road. Probably due to the fact that, on streets where doors open into traffic and buildings are tall, cars have to stick out into traffic in order to see if the road is clear and pull out. But the game of chicken becomes how far out you can stick before cars are forced to stop so you can turn left? Italian drivers will swerve around or “pass” the car rather than stop.

8. During rush hour, anything goes!?! Two lane roads become three lanes wide reducing the space between adjacent cars to mere inches. Six cars make it through a light on a yellow. Scooters make a fourth lane in the road and gather around the lead car waiting for the green like ants on a cracker. Cars inch out further into the road to try to get out. The functional traffic circles break down into gridlock.

Bottom-line, as our friend, Larisa, said, “We have the utmost respect for Italian drivers. They are the most impatient and patient drivers around.”
49er there… and there.
At the start of Italy 2001, I was not sure if I would write updates about our trip. You never really know if you will have entertaining material to write about until the trip is underway. BUT WHAT WAS I THINKING?! This is my family and friends we are talking about! I decided tonight, only 6 days into the sojourn, that there would be plenty of fodder to write about.

We were sitting on the Piazza della Signoria having a drink in front of the Palazzo Vecchio as the sun was setting. Tate was sitting in my lap and Dane and my mom were on either side of me. We were talking about something when my eyes glanced above my Mom’s head and out of my mouth came “Steve!” It was his blue eyes. Who else could it have been? I see them on the sports highlights, on Sunday afternoons in the fall, and in the newspaper. It was Steve Mariucci! Next thing I know I am shaking hands, exchanging “Buonasera” greetings, and introducing Steve Mariucci to our group! Of course, my parents had no idea who he was and he was sitting 1.5 feet away from me, so I had to quietly explain to my parents who he was. Well, after this explanation, my Mom thought that a picture was in order and interrupted Steve’s discussion to request a picture of him with her son and grandson. Steve politely agreed, but jokingly suggested that only on the condition Tate share with him one of the strawberries he was in the process of devouring. Tate, our very observant little 1.65-year-old child, heard him and unbeknownst to everyone but himself decided to feed Steve the strawberry just as he sat down for the picture! Hence, we have the aforementioned picture of my son feeding the head coach of the SF 49ers a strawberry!

The next night we prepared to say goodbye to my parents, with the best meal thus far of the vacation, at our favorite trattoria in Florence – Pandemonio. It is a small place owned by a very special family. All the recipes have been handed down within this family for generations. The atmosphere is great and the staff friendly. The owner remembered us from our visits over the years and brought us complementary champagne as we sat down and homemade limoncella liquor and grappa before we departed. Outstanding! The best appetizer was a dish of warm cannelloni beans served with thinly sliced onions and tuna (that did not taste as if it had come from a can) drizzled with olive oil and decorated with freshly ground black pepper. And the ’95 Brunello di Montalcino we ordered was fantastic. After dinner we walked along the Arno and through the streets of Florence and enjoyed the singing talents of a British opera singer on the Piazza della Republica.

As we were returning to our car, relishing our time away from the kids, someone suddenly tapped my shoulder as we passed and said, “Hey, how’s it going?” Steve Mariucci! Again! He looked sharp and was out for an evening stroll himself. We talked about places to eat, our respective reasons for visiting Italy, villa rentals, and the length of our stays. About the only topic he strategically avoided was my expressed pleasure at his off-season acquisitions to strengthen the defensive line. He even endured Ma and Pa Besser’s story about the SF 49er lawn chairs they bought on sale at Walmart without any knowledge of who the 49ers were! He encouraged them to support the Niners when they travel to Philly this year. Bottom line, he is one nice guy! He was so open and warm to us, even though he had never met us before.

That is what is great about an Italian vacation. People let their guard down. I can meet the coach of the classiest football program in the NFL, call him by his first name, and watch in amazement as my son feeds him a strawberry! If I happened into Steve and his wife at a local Peninsula eatery, would the situation have been the same? Probably not. I probably would not even have initiated a conversation with him. And if I had been so forward as to introduce myself and tell him what a great coach he is, would he have told me how much he missed his kids or about the personal nature of his trek to Italy? I hope so, but I gotta say Naaaa!

Tuscany is a magical place!

Open up and say, “Yum, Yum,” Steve!