We are in a race against time. I want to share my day with you and it is already passed my bedtime. I am propped up on my bed and trying to figure out where the hell to begin the day and that’s tricky. The last half of my day had a tremendous impact on the beginning, but I should probably stick with the clock for the sake of sanity.

Today was my first day with a car and I wanted to make it as easy as possible on myself, so several relatively local destinations made sense. I got together with Allegra, the head concierge at Castello di Casole and kind of the maestro of guest operations here. I don’t know if I mentioned it, but when I arrived several days ago, I showed up with a tray of pastries that survived the train ride from Lucca to Florence, gently tucked away in my backpack. It was my way of letting the staff know that I was not their typical guest and I certainly wasn’t.

We decided I’d visit a couple of relatively close by locations, to avoid herniating my horrific sense of direction, even with every technological aid available. I gotta tell you that navigating around this country is a bitch. The very calm, unflappable mechanized voice tells you to do things like make your second right around a traffic circle to roads that are identified with the prefix “SP” and good fucken luck with that, cause you ain’t seeing them two letters until you have committed yourself and your vehicle to some direction, which may or may not be the right one. Terror strikes when you are told by this witch to redirect your travel to another “SP” because you screwed up.

I know I am being very harsh on myself, considering this was my first day on the road, behind the wheel. When you are alone, you are the pilot and navigator and that’s a kind of double duty that can be very disconcerting. My first stop was an old, walled town called Monteriggioni and I actually managed to find it, although my armpits were working hard. I was a little surprised when I pulled into the parking lot to find cars and buses and campers. I don’t know why I thought places like this would be these rare slices of history, untouched by modernity. This well preserved, little walled in enclave had shops selling all sorts of quiche, not quite Disneyland, but not a tribute to a long ago time either. Believe me, as an American, I am not the one to be bitching about commercialization.

I got a great piece of insanity regarding the parking rules. When you drive in, you push a button and get a little piece of paper with a barcode on it. The gate goes up and you park your vehicle. When you leave, you have to park near the exit gate. You get out of your car and walk to a little hut with a computerized machine. You flash your barcoded piece of paper and you are told what you have to pay. You insert your cash and then receive another barcoded piece of paper, quite similar to the one you get on the way in. You walk back to your car and then proceed to the exit gate, where you have to flash your freshly barcoded piece of paper and then the gate goes up and you are free to go. Welcome to Italy!

I left this walled in, beautifully preserved shopping center and it was off to Casole d”Elsa, one of the many old, hill top villages that dot the Tuscan countryside. I was gradually getting a bit more comfortable with the voice in the machine, speaking in kilometers and warning me ahead of time about turns I needed to make on to roads that sometimes referred to familiar destinations. There’s something else I forgot to tell you. You just don’t drive into these old towns and park wherever its convenient. Virtually all of the inner streets of these historic towns do not welcome cars and you have to find a place to park or you risk some awful medieval punishment in the form of an expensive ticket that manages to find you because it reads your license plate and I shit you not.

I was starting to get hungry and wanted to have one of those meals that you can have on any street corner in any village in Tuscany, unless you are me. I got some delicious gelato and headed out of Casole d’Elsa and drove to a very small village called Mensano. It was a very small, quiet place and its one and only restaurant was closed for the day. I headed for home and knew there was a ristorante along the road, where I had walked to yesterday. I walked up to the counter and begged the Italian speaking gentleman for a sandwich and he smiled with great affection and presented me with a fabulous ham and cheese sandwich on some really fine bread. I proceeded to devour it, leaving crumbs everywhere, as I made my way back to home base and here is where the story really sweetens.

Honestly, I was feeling a little depressed with how the day went and at the same time, lovingly appreciating my propensity for screwing up these things. Please, don’t get me wrong, this comedy of errors is taking place in Tuscany and that is more than enough to make me feel incredibly privileged.

This is like a two act play and the second act was truly spectacular. Walking away from my Renault and still eating my ham sandwich to go, I remembered there was some kind of concert in the old church on the property. I dropped my backpack and assorted paraphernalia in my room and headed downstairs. The first thing I see is a stunning red Ferrari and a crowd of well dressed people in the central area of the hotel. There are gorgeous men’s suits, elegant fabrics, sculpted pieces, specialty foods and more, all being presented to the hotel guests. For someone like me and the world I come from, it is like a Fellini film and I am Charlie Chaplin’s Little Tramp, my favorite character.

At 6PM, I went to the church to listen to a concert by the Music Academy of Val D’Elsa. I listened to a violin ensemble and a cello ensemble play music by Mozart, Bach and Bowie. Only kidding about Bowie, but i just want to make sure you are still paying attention. I sat in the chapel and I closed my eyes. The jagged events of the day melted away and I felt the magic of Tuscany enter my tension filled body and I released it all. I left the concert and walked back to the courtyard, waiting for the sun to set over this magnificent landscape. My memories of the missed connections of the day faded away and I felt serenaded by the sirens of Tuscany, calling me to gently rest myself and give in to the luxury of the moment.

I got in the car one last time and drove down the hill to a restaurant that was closed the few times I checked on it. Tonight, Locanda del Molino was open and I visited another heaven. I walked in and the first thing that struck me was the soul wrenching sound of Nina Simone. I drank a lot of wine and indulged myself with a sausage pizza and another pasta dish that nearly stopped my heart. I sat there and all of a sudden the entire day felt perfect.

The only thing I could think of was getting back to my room and hoping I could stay awake long enough to tell you how rich this day was for me. The edge of the day gave way to a kind of delicate softness that is this place and that is where I am now. Goodnight and thank you so very much for listening.