Ring Around Radicòfani

May 14, 2009 afternoon...It's springtime in Tuscany, and we’ve been winding up and down scenic mountain roads for the better part, no, the longer part, of three hours now. We are clearly lost. The views are breathtaking, but in all, it’s an experience better appreciated without the hangover effects of jetlag. With Cynthia heroically behind the wheel of the rental car – a diesel thank God, so we’ll go forever without worrying over the fuel gauge - we're traveling south of Siena to a magical region known as the Val d'Orcia, or in English, the Orcia Valley. I’m acting as interpreter for the Ladies, and so far, I’ve sought direction from three sources in the town of Sarteano; an elderly gentleman in Sarteano; a young woman at the bus station further along in Sarteano; and a group of three elderly women and a man outside of Sarteano. Like a living oracle, they declare as one that since we’d long missed the direct road to the town of Radicòfani, the only route left to follow is the long way around the valley, by way of San Casciano dei Bagni.

I hang my head in the silent desperation of every weary traveler. We’ve endured a trans-Atlantic flight, a long early morning layover in Paris at an outpost terminal decorated in garish lime green hues, and then the final flight to Florence. Now, south of Siena and well into an unanticipated circumnavigation of the valley, the breathtaking scenery is taking a decidedly psychotropic turn. I begin to imagine myself a traveler on the Silk Road lost in the Tien Shan mountains with winter at my heels. Dear God, the camels are dying, we have no water, show us the way!