It
was hard to leave Rome, but time to move on. Bidding the great city arrivederci, we boarded our train at the
mammoth Termini and two hours later reached the Tuscan hill town of Arezzo.
A
fellow traveler, a journalist, told us he lives here and commutes to Firenze,
about thirty minutes north. Quelle vie, as the French say. What a life!
From
the railway station we climbed the flagstone street to the Old Town.
Turning right at the summit (we thought!), we passed the
Basilica di San Francesco, known
for its sublime Piero della Francesca frescoes.
Two doors down via Cavour is the Graziella Patio Hotel. Small and welcoming, it has seven
rooms, the décor of each inspired by traveler and writer Bruce Chatwin. Once
we’d dropped our bags it was out to lunch in the square opposite the church.
Avanti. Another uphill jaunt led to the town’s Piazza Grande, the former marketplace so worthy of its name with its dramatic scale,
elegant churches and arcades.
A group of college students gathered near our
café outside Santa Maria della Pieve, a thousand-year-old church rebuilt over
the ages.
After a much-needed espresso, we continued upward...
through narrow
cobbled lanes to another summit crowned by tumbling wisteria.
Further
up the San Donato hill, I spotted the medieval citadel, Fortezza Medicea,
and the Cattedrale di San Donato.
Its
park-like grounds were dotted with flowers and people enjoying the spring day. At the rear of the meadow I peered over ancient stone
walls at the Arno valley below.
I
wandered back down winding lanes, past the San Domenico church, humble
and sturdy, more Italian kids studying their past.
I marveled at the
beauty of this town that draws art lovers and students. Thinking of all the
other lives I long for, I passed a witty hillside “pasture” ...
art supply
shops, quirky museums,
cheery windows,
and this Vespa that made my heart go pitter-patter.
It
was time for my visit to the St. Francis basilica, where 15C Renaissance
painter, Piero della Francesca, created his serene frescoes, The History of the True Cross. The
wood-beamed church is calm, its age comforting.
Later,
beckoned by lights at the end of a darkened lane, we ate dinner at a homey
osteria…Rome already behind us.
Tuscany is seductive that way. There is only
one Rome, but the beauty of this hill country is like no other.
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