As a wedding gift one of my oldest, dearest friends gifted us a free night at a really cute little Inn, Castello Di Tornano, in Chianti. F and I decided to finally go last weekend. It’s a beautiful drive from Florence through Chianti. Everyone should do it at least once in their life, preferably in the summer.
When we arrived we took a stroll through the hills. I found wild boar shit which I was kind of excited about. I felt like a super-tracker, if there is ever a Zombie takeover I’ll survive because I can hunt things. Like a cheetah. I ran up the hill following the boar doodie and hoof tracks , thinking about that sad movie where the dog is attacked by wild boars and then gets rabies. Where The Red Fern Grows? Is that it? or Old Yeller? I don’t know. Something depressing. At the top of the hill F told me to stop stalking the animals because “it is weird,” and I was all, “you won’t think it’s so weird when you’re starving and I have like three hundred wild boars.” Then he said I can’t watch The Walking Dead anymore. I pouted for a minute and then we were romantic under an olive tree because, ya know, the wild.
We went to a little village nearby for dinner. The village was a ghost town, like post-apocalyptic empty. I don’t know if anyone really lives there. The city consisted of one empty street lined on both sides with small business’ on the ground floor for wine, paintings, and other tourist things and apartments above. There were no lights or people talking inside the apartments, only darkness and an old man having an inappropriately long conversation with his labrador under the only lamp at the end of the street. It seemed like a movie set. We popped into the only bar for coffee and learned that we didn’t need to search any further because it was also the town bakery and restaurant, so we stayed for dinner and dined outside. The highlight of our dinner was our waitress, a cute woman from Morocco, who spent a lot of time making fun an Italian woman behind her back, calling her “electric” with an eye roll. I liked the insult and noted that I should use it in the future. We laughed so she liked us and subsequently fed us 300 bags of chips.
After dinner I convinced F to start a fire. In our room. In the fireplace. I did not have him ignite a nearby forest. At least, not this time. It took him an hour of intensive laboring and forty rolls of toilet paper to get the fire going and for a moment I’d given up on the idea and crawled into bed. Then he scared the shit out of me when he jumped and screamed while banging on his chest, “FIRE! I created FIRE! My a babe wanted deh fire AND I GAVE AIR DUH FIRE!” So, he was super proud of himself and all “one with his caveman”. Then I convinced him to put the bed in front of the fire place, “so it would be like camping” And we did. And it was awesome.
The next morning we visited castle Ricasoli, where the family who invented Chianti Classico still lives today. Or as I like to call them, rivalry. While F and I wandered the gardens in the back he spoke in an old English accent (or tried to, not easy with his Italian accent) and pretended to be aristocratic and I was all, seriously, you have to stop before everyone looks outside and wonders why I married a peasant and I’ll have to go into a lengthy explanation of how you’re down-to-earth and how I wanted someone new and different.” As we walked around the front I noticed some odd decisions regarding the fortification of the castle wall. Off with his head! And the drapes? All will suffer my wrath!
F: This is awesome huh babe? I mean, could you imagine living here?
ME: Yes. I can. I finally feel at home. If given the opportunity I would totally reclaim this place. Fix the drapes, and kill whoever decided that this wall was adequate defense. I mean seriously!? Do you know how easy it would be to breach the front wall?! An army of humans, or trolls, nobody is safe!
F: You know, the scary thing is that you used the word, reclaim, and that you really believe everything that you’re saying right now.
ME: I would ride on the back of a dragon. All would love me.
F: Oookay. Could I live in your castle?
ME: No. No you can’t. Wait, actually, could I FINALLY have a Capybara?
F: Dio mio! Yes. FINE. If you own a castle and you let me live in it you can finally have that stupid giant rat you want.
ME: You know what? He’s not stupid and I’d watch my mouth if I were you. The Queen is easily angered. You can have that tower over there. But you can’t live in the main part, that’s for me and Dwayne.
F: Sigh. Whatever. So you belong here with this family, huh? Are you like the long-lost daughter or something?
ME: This family? Fuck no! These guys have been living here for like thirty generations. Do you think that they have Chianti royalty meet-and-greets or use FB? No. They don’t. So basically everyone inside is super inbred. In fact, I’m sure it’s super exciting at this point if someone is born without tentacles. The octopus clan. No thanks. Though I’m sure it makes them worthy adversaries being able to hold like eight swords at a time.
ME: This kingdom is as good as mine. Follow me or perish.
Note: The Chianti Classico by Ricasoli is incredibly good wine. Come and drink it.