Longborough, West Green mix Early and Baroque music with modern interests for a fresh take

The world of classical music has been bemoaning the lack of young audiences, and looking for ways to appeal to them, since I was a teenager. And probably for decades before. Sadly, I have grown in to the average age more than audiences have become younger, yet directors continue to search for new fans. Bencard’s Bites dipped into the world of early and Baroque twice last week, where you’d assume the youth appeal of 450-year-old court masques and ancient religious tunes is slim. Yet thanks to a match-up with wine and beer tasting at West Green House Opera and a link in with modern music festivals and climate change at Longborough Festival Opera, these very old classics became a soundtrack of fun for all ages.

Wine expert Oz Clarke played master of merriment at West Green with a four act programme that crossed England and Europe before leaving us in South America. Each themed set of music matched a drink, with Oz guiding us through the nuances of both taste and sound. Beer and Britannia matched a sharp, hoppy ale from Basingstoke’s Long Dog brewery with a lot of Purcell, who would take the starring role at Longborough at the end of the week. Hildegard Von Bingen … who, ironically, turned up in a totally different context in my last article, was a logical contributor of her tune O Happy Roots thanks to her status as the first scientific writer to note the antiseptic properties of hops.

Next to the Rhine, where a Riesling was as sweet as the sounds of Handel, Gluck and Bach that matched it … though probably a little too sweet for enjoyment without some spicy food to counter it. (Or desert to complement it.) The reds of the second half were more successful. A 2021 Valpolicella from Allegrini and the Monteverdi, Vivaldi and Grandi that Oz selected to go with it combined for my favourite set of the evening. Far more surprising was a Chilean Carmenere Reserva paired with 17th century church music; both the results of missionary zeal in South America. A particular high point was Zespedes’ Convidando esta la noche, given a faster pace and a backbeat of maracas to transport the tune into a modern toe-tapper.

Lovers of wine and music don't need scientific studies to tell them that one enhances the other, even though the clever clogs at Cambridge have proven it. Evidently your joy will escalate 15% with the right paring. It’s just surprising that I’ve run across so few people making more of this fact. West Green’s promotions didn’t even make a big deal of it; the specifics of the tasting … complete with matching local cheeses … were a surprise to us on arrival. We’d booked for Oz and the music and totally missed this added benefit. To be honest, I’m not sure how anyone made any profit out of the generous pours they were serving up, something they should be thinking about as the backing Armonico Consort was raising money for a music education charity. I’d love to see more of this concept, and think it would be an excellent gateway for many into less-familiar areas of music.

Up at Longborough, I suspect “less familiar” covered most audience members when it came to Purcell’s Fairy Queen. Though interest in early opera has been growing, and Glyndebourne did a much-publicised version of this musical take on A Midsummer Night’s Dream in 2017, it’s not a typical part of the opera repertoire. I expect we were not unusual in that we’d heard snippets, but not seen the whole thing.

Purcell wrote it for William III’s birthday celebrations in 1692, mashing up the beloved Shakespeare comedy with a series of mostly-unrelated court masques on topics of love and nature. The loose affiliation gives modern producers a chance to get creative. Longborough has pushed the boat out, turning the fairies into young activists protesting climate change, the Athenians into the old, besuited establishment and the enchanted forest into a music festival. This shift works, and becomes magical, because they also play around with Purcell’s music. Some songs slide into a folk adaptation, while other pieces sound like the trance-inducing club classics you get at the end of a long night on the dance floor. The young performers, and the orchestra who spend much of the time playing on the move as they interact with our “festival”, dance and sway exactly as they would to those modern genres, making the adaptation all the more credible. It’s the first time I’ve emerged from a Longborough production wishing there was a recording; I’d love to hear this unique adaptation again.

Purists might have been a bit less keen on the updating. One of our companions, who is almost completely blind and therefore entirely focused on the music, was a bit disappointed not to hear a pure delivery of the original. Unable to follow the visual clues, the musical adaptations made less sense to him. I’m not sure what Purcell or William III would have thought of it. But I loved it, and the updates managed to avoid the gloomy dirges that Purcell can sometimes devolve into, even when he’s writing cheerful scenes.

I also thought that the parable on climate change was probably as close to a real court masque as we’re likely to get in the modern world. This was heavily carried out during the masque of the god Phoebus where the music takes us through the four seasons … notably the death of the world in winter. It wasn't masque-like in magnificent scenery, special effects or royalty appearing as divinities, but rather in the idea that masques of the 17th and 18th centuries used Baroque music and classical stories to get contemporary political points across. Here, as the music sings of Mother Earth’s bounty dying in winter, young activists with faces painted as skeletons bring a giant balloon of the Earth onto a hospital gurney and put it on life support. Unsuccessful, they remove the tubes and bury it with funereal gloom. Happily, the globe comes back at the end and is passed about like those giant beach balls so common in festival crowds. 

This was the season’s production for emerging artists and featuring Longborough’s Youth Chorus, and I can’t think of a topic more appropriate for them.

The planet’s funeral makes the whole thing sound grim and tediously political; which it’s not. This is, after all, an adaptation of one of the funniest plays in the Western repertoire. It’s almost impossible to do A Midsummer Night's Dream without bringing joy to the audience’s heart. This production demanded not only top voices but a considerable amount of acting. The whole cast delivered. 

Special shout outs go to George Robarts’ swaggering Bottom with a particularly amusing descent to an ass; Anne Reilly’s Helena, swinging through a range of extreme emotions with tremendous clarity of voice; and Rhydian Jenkins’ Snout, playing “the Wall” with one of those Welsh accents and tenors that turns the listener to jelly. One of the delights of Longborough is the intimate nature of the experience. We returned to our hotel to find Jenkins’ gregarious family and friends celebrating his success in the garden. I hope the story is one I’ll tell after he’s turned into the next Bryn Terfel. 

There are any number of climate-engaged, festival-going under-35s in my life I would have loved to take to this performance. None of them have any particular interest in classical music, but I instinctively know they’d appreciate this Longborough production. I might turn to a slightly different list for music and wine tasting, but the result is the same. Sadly, neither audience shifted the dial much on the average age of listeners. But the potential is there. Experiences like this make me optimistic about the future of classical music.

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Speaking of youth and classical music, the past fortnight also brought the sad news of the death of pianist André Watts. André shot to fame in the 1960s on a televised Young People’s Concert series and was a protege of Leonard Bernstein. A few years later he was touring the United States, still being managed and accompanied by his mother, when my father organised a social outing to the symphony for the local Bar Association. (That would be lawyers, not tavern keepers). This included a reception for André, who by that point wasn’t that much younger than my fresh-out-of-university parents. My parents went out to dinner with André and his mother, they all hit it off, and I grew up with a famous classical pianist in my life.

I never really appreciated how famous he was. I was much more interested in the fabulous stories of global travel he spun, and the exotic stuff he introduced us to. He gave me and my parents our first taste of sushi, taking us to a proper little bar in a Japanese corner of Chicago where we were the only outsiders. I thought he was, by far, the coolest person my parents knew. The fact that we’d hang out in the dressing room of whatever concert hall we were catching him in, and he’d explain nuances of the music while trilling through bits and pieces on the practice piano, was just a bit extra. You have a different relationship with Rachmaninoff’s 2nd piano concerto when you’ve sat next to one of the world’s great interpreters of the piece as he plays the climactic bits and pauses to explain just why they're so great.

Should that happen to a modern kid, there’d be a video trail, a soundtrack and social media posts. All I have are memories. And a lovely vase with a Japanese-style glaze André gave me when I moved into my first house in Dallas. A vase that’s become a lot more precious this month.

Montalcino and Montepulciano are classic Tuscany, with smaller crowds and better wine

Everyone knows Chianti. Tourists more serious about their wine, however, are likely to push further south in Tuscany to the neighbouring hill towns of Montalcino and Montepulciano. You don't have to be focused on the wines, however, to enjoy this beautiful route for a day of top sightseeing. And like most of the places I've written about on this trip, these towns remain far less crowded than Florence or Siena, attracting visitors who are digging in to a more profound layer of Tuscan life.

We started our day at the fabulously ancient Abbazia di Sant'Antimo, a working abbey that centres its life around a church that's more than 1000 years old and produces a range of health and beauty products from its gardens. The setting near the bottom of a valley full of vines, olive trees and oaks is magnificent, with the cream-coloured abbey complex sitting in splendid isolation. Its outer walls are made of alabaster, a translucent stone much loved for the way light passes through it. On our visit the walls were bleached almost white under the intense sun and cloudless sky, but supposedly at night the exterior glows golden when lights are on inside. 

The abbey traces its roots back to the 800s, supposedly founded by Charlemagne. What you see today has been more or less unchanged since the turn of the first millennium. There is a sense of immense peace in this simple Romanesque building, with its dim light filtered through small arched windows and its uncomplicated floor plan. The general lack of adornment makes the carved column capitals and door surrounds, writhing with greenery and capering figures, even more fantastic. 

To one side of the main church, a grove of gnarled olive trees that look as old as the building offers a contemplative walk punctuated by plaques offering wisdom from the rule of St. Benedict. On the other side, you emerge into a rough cloister area ... any roof, colonnade or formal architecture is long gone ... to find a basic chapter house amongst ruins of other buildings that now form a picturesque backbone to gardens. The ground floor of the chapter house is the nuns' shop, the upstairs chapter room and the clerestory in the church require a paid tour to see. 

Though the church appears to be at the bottom of the valley, there's actually a hidden depression behind a line of oaks just beyond the main door, into which the nuns have made a terraced garden dedicated to Saint Hildegard of Bingen. Composer, writer, medic and philosopher, Hildegard was one of the most significant women of the middle ages and here it's her exploration of the natural world that's celebrated. You'll find many more flourishing and impressive herb gardens in England, and the nuns certainly don't seem to have much time for weeding, but the hedges of blooming oleander and the backdrop of the village of Sant'Antimo on the hill above make this garden's setting hard to beat. 

While it offers a pretty backdrop, there's not much to see up in the village, so head back to Montalcino from here.

Montalcino

Yet another stereotypical hill town, Montalcino spills down a hill from the brash Medici fortress at its summit. (Park in the public car park beneath it and climb the stairs from there up to the top of town.) The Piazza della Principessa Margherita is at the heart of town; a smaller-than-average open space in front of a narrow, venerable town hall. The piazza is surrounded by Medieval and Renaissance buildings and made more charming by the varying angles of the roads coming into it and the enormous loggia off to one side. 

Alle Logge di Piazza, with its tables laid under the high arches, is obviously the place to eat in town, and

was packed with glamorous Italians who looked like they'd purposely sought it out for a long lunch. Reservations were obviously required. Fortunately the Corso Matteoti leading out of the piazza from the loggia is packed with restaurants and wine bars, all of them on the east side of the street have fabulous views over the town sloping away below into the vine-growing valley beyond. 

We chose the Bar Belvedere, which had a changing menu of daily chef's specials far more sophisticated than its appearance as a simple cafe. The pici was hand-rolled, obvious from the subtle differences in width, the boar sauce succulent and the salads fresh and generous. They also carried ales from the Abbazia Sant'Antimo, giving us a chance to sample some of the nuns' production at our leisure. If you want to do serious wine tasting, go a bit further down the street to the Enoteca di Piazza, where the wine room offers the same view and an opportunity to sample a wine range of Brunellos kept on tap in wine dispensing machines. It's the scene of another long, serious tasting afternoon on a former girls' trip.

Montalcino is a great place to shop for non-vinous products, too. There are enough tourists to support a good variety of shops, but not so many to allow unquestioned high prices. A leather store across from the Enoteca, for example, had an expanded range from what I'd seen in Florence with prices 10% to 20% cheaper, and discounts available if you paid in cash. A workbench in the front of the shop with a craftsman piecing together a handbag validated the "Made in Italy" stamp on the products jammed onto the floor-to-ceiling shelves. I finally succeeded in finding a new work bag that has the functionality of a backpack, the look of a good handbag and a rich burgundy colour that avoids the ubiquitously masculine browns and blacks of office gear. You could spend a whole day shopping here, but it's more fun to do a compare and contrast with Montepulciano in the same day.

The most beautiful road in Tuscany?

Someone has done a top PR job on the SP146 between San Quirico d'Orcia and Pienza. An impressive number of travel magazines and guidebooks will tell you that it's the most beautiful road in Tuscany. It's definitely pretty, and quintessentially Tuscan with the number of cypress-lined lanes running up hills to charming villas. One particular view towards a farmhouse with a white marble chapel (the cappella della madonna di vitaleta) beside it is world famous.

But, honestly, there are far more attractive drives. The road from Greve in Chianti to Sambuca is one, from Colle di Val d'Elsa to Volterra another that is prettier and more dramatic. The differences here are that the 146 is easy driving, wide with gentle banks rather than hairpin bends, and at under seven miles isn't very long. If you're a hesitant driver, or short on time, then this is certainly the most convenient choice for a beautiful drive.

If you're a food lover, its most distinct advantage is the Pecorino di Pienza shop on the left side at you drive from Pienza toward Montepulciano. This is a direct-from-the-farm outlet that sells a variety of Tuscany's classic sheep's milk cheese. When we stopped in the lady behind the counter spoke fluent English, a blessing as my Italian probably isn't up to the nuances of local cheese production. 

There's everything here from fresh, young cheeses to the aged, hard stuff that's Tuscany's equivalent to parmesan. I, personally, find aged pecorino more distinctive and flavourful, but it's hard to find anything this good outside of Italy; even at Italian import shops. Stretching beyond the traditional, the farm also produces a variety of flavoured pecorinos (the chili-coated version was excellent) and a smoked scamorza style great for bringing home in a suitcase. The modest space also has a fridge full of local meat products and jars full of the region's honey and traditional sauces. A real treasure trove and worth pulling over for.

Montepulciano

Larger than Montalcino, Montepulciano has a sprawling modern town that spreads well beyond its historic centre. Despite this, it's particularly photogenic from a distance thanks to the small, domed church of San Biagio nestled in the slopes under the fortified summit, and the fact that most of the modern town is screened by trees. 

As you'd expect, you want to find the car park at the base of the old walled town (it's by the main tourist office and across from the Giardino di Poggiofanti) and walk up. Tuscan sightseeing is tremendous for the calf muscles. 

Head up the hill through the impressive Porta al Prato and you'll quickly get the impression that Montepulciano was a more prosperous and important town than Montalcino. The differences are subtle, but the palaces are bigger, the public monuments showier and there's far more architecture here from the 17th and 18th centuries, where Montalcino seems frozen in time circa 1580. One of my favourite spots here is from that more modern period. 

Eighteenth century scholar and collector Pietro Bucelli decided to display his accumulated Etruscan and Roman funerary monuments in the facade of his palazzo on the main street. It's a quirky, museum-quality display that most tourists walk by without noticing. 

Continue up the hill past the church of Sant'Agostino, where there's a bizarre year-round nativity scene strung with disco lights that's worth a peek, and try to be past the Torre di Pulcinella looking back on it as the hour strikes. The traditional clown of Italian comedy stands above in his black and white costume, ringing the time at the top of the hour. There's no doubt some darkly satirical meaning about us being at the mercy of time, but watching it will bring a smile to your face. 

Keep climbing and bear a bit to your right and you'll come to the Piazza Grande, the requisite town centre overlooked by duomo and town hall, with a sculpture-bedecked well in the centre. It looks a lot like the Palazzo Vecchio in Florence and the town hall in Volterra; so much so, in fact, that it stood in for the former in the Medici series on Netflix and the latter in the Twilight films.

Montalcino would be hard-pressed to sustain a whole day's sightseeing, but you could easily spend more time Montepulciano. So while the two towns fit comfortably into this one-day itinerary, you could also split this route into two distinct days. An approach you'd definitely want to take if you were going to be serious about the wine tasting. 

The wines

Like Chianti, both Brunello di Montalcino and Vino Nobile di Montepulciano are made from the Sangiovese grape. Brunello is 100% Sangiovese while the other is blended with up to 20 % Canaiolo Nero and/or small amounts of other local varieties. While the ingredients and wine making process may be much the same as Chianti, the results are starkly different. Both of these wines tend to have less tannin and more fruit. Wine experts compare them ... particularly Brunellos ... to top Burgundian Pinot Noirs. 

Both start out with the flavours of light red fruits and age into more complex, herbal and woodland notes. Experts say the best Montepulcianos go from strawberry and sour cherry to thyme and forest floor, while the Brunellos start with blackberry and plum and head towards a slightly heavier tobacco and chocolate. I doubt I could pick up the difference in a blind tasting, but I can tell you that I like both far better than any Chianti and tend to prefer Brunellos. Maybe it's my roots; this is one of the most popular fine wine imports to the USA, with Americans typically buying 30% of annual production. 

While you'll occasionally see an "aperto" sign welcoming you onto a producer's property this region is similar to Burgundy in the expectation that you'll go to the main towns and taste at local shops. Both towns are laden with wine specialists carrying vast varieties and offering tastes. Both denominations are characterised by small, family-run producers, so picking any particular winery to visit would be tough for anyone but an expert, anyway.

The people working in the shops are experts. Your best bet is to go in and give them a brief. Do you like light and fruity, or deep and complex? What price points do you typically drink in? Are you looking to buy a bottle to have with dinner tonight, and if so, what are you eating? Or do you want to bring a few bottles home to lay down for a while? Find people you like, have a conversation and let them guide you to their choices. In both towns we ended up with excellent bottles from tiny producers unlikely to be found beyond the immediate area. All the shops ship, of course, though postage makes that an expensive proposition to the States and Brexit has escalated the price for Brits. Probably better to just enjoy and learn while you're there.

Greve and the Passignano road deliver the dream of Chianti

Regular readers will know they can find plenty of wine tourism in these pages. While those articles often go deep into specifics of the wines themselves, you don't have to be an aficionado to enjoy rambling around vineyard-draped locations. Wine routes offer some of the best Tuscan sightseeing, whether you're a connoisseur or don't know your Sangiovese from your Vermentino.

Tuscany is Italy's third most vine-covered region (after Sicily and Apulia), mostly because of its extremely hilly terrain. Which is also, of course, what makes the whole region so picturesque, given how many of those hilltops are crowned with walled towns, historic abbeys or impressive villas. You could easily dedicate a whole holiday to wine tourism here. Many do. But if that's not your thing, there are two day trips in different wine regions sure to delight anyone. Here, I'll talk about a classic route through Chianti. In the next article, I'll move south to Montalcino and Montepulciano.

Greve in Chianti

Greve is the largest town in the Chianti wine region. Unlike so many other prime destinations here, it's in a valley ... though you'll twist up and down plenty of steep roads to get here, whichever direction you come from. The appeal for residents has always been the river Greve. It will be a key landmark as you find the Parcheggio Piazza Resistenza to leave your car. It boasts a convenient pay-to-park app, an underground area to keep your car in the shade, a very short walk to the historic centre of town and an Instagrammable sculpture of Chianti's trademark gallo nero (black rooster). After the requisite photo stop, cross the river and head for the Piazza Matteotti, the hub for all sightseeing here.

This roughly-triangular space has the unique (in my experience) advantage of covered loggias on its two longest sides, meaning you can shop and dine protected from the weather. Not only is that a rare blessing beneath the brutal summer sun; it makes for a beautiful urban space. Tenants are a mix of wine shops, restaurants and souvenir spots. The last skew more towards high-end craft than tourist tat, with plenty of the usual ceramics, luxury linens and leather products to tempt you. Even the tee shirts seem unusually upscale here, including a delightful range of the region's iconic wild boars in cartoon form getting up to all manner of human hijinx. Everything is a bit more wine-themed, unsurprisingly, than in Florence or Siena.

The most distinctive shop on the piazza, and the one that's worth a trip to Greve all on its own, is Antica Macelleria Falorni. This is a palace of the pig, an Aladdin's cave of whole prosciutto hanging to dry, stacks of salami and other preserved meats in a staggering variety of forms and flavours, and a full butcher's counter with fresh local cuts carved to your specifications. There's a whole section devoted exclusively to wild boar products. If I could only bring one item home from a trip to Tuscany, it would be a package of their wild boar prosciutto. They also have a variety of meat-related accessories, including long, thin, flexible ham knives. One of these has been a prized possession in my knife block for more than a decade; nothing I have allows a thinner slice. 

Falorni has been here since 1806, and much of the shop looks as if it hasn't changed since. But time moves on, and their fame has expanded thanks to global travel reports and social media. Their footprint has grown, too, with a whole new section for wine, take-away food and dining on site. The loggia outside their storefront is now crowded with tables of happy visitors eating what they may not be able to bring home with them.

Food & drink

We opted for lunch instead at the Cafe Lepanto, on the short side of the triangle next to the town hall. Our choice was mainly made on the triple play that it had the first nice loo we'd encountered since the car park and some people were desperate, their covered patio had an impressive network of misters cooling the space, and we were travelling with a teenager who hadn't had pizza yet in Italy and the menu was full of it. Necessity turned out to be the mother of a fine lunch, with large yet delicate pizzas packed with local flavours, excellent service and cold drinks. All consumed while enjoying a view across the piazza, overlooked by a swashbuckling statue of local boy Giovanni da Varrazzano, an explorer and navigator whose fame is now defined by the bridge named after him in New York.

If you want to get serious about local wines, follow the signs across the main road, back towards the river to the Enoteca Falorni. Yes, they've expanded again. This place was once known as Le Cantine di Greve in Chianti. You'll find many glowing reviews of it under that name, thanks to the fact that nobody ever takes anything down on the internet, and then a recent silence that suggests the place went out of business. It is still here, simply under new ownership.

It's under the old name, and before this blog launched, that a legendary girls' trip spent many hours in serious, note-taking tasting of a range of local bottles staggered from affordable table wines to eye-wateringly expensive "Super Tuscans". We could do this because the place has scores of bottles set up in automatic dispensers. You load up a card with credit and serve yourself, with the per-taste price escalating with the quality of the wine. Back then, our studied approach found that we hit a sweet spot of taste and price at around €30 a bottle, with the biggest gulf between €10 and €20. Though the Sassicaia and Antinori Solaia were a giddy pleasure to drink, the difference in taste didn't justify the almost 10x increase over the €30 choices. This was 20 years ago, so you can probably add 20% to those prices, but I suspect the quality ratio is still roughly the same.

Since the Falorni rebrand the place has become a restaurant, not just a wine drinking venue. Though there appear to be fewer bottles on sample than in the old days, the company web site says more than 100 bottles on sample, so I think this is still one of the best places to do a wine tasting if you wanted to get serious on a variety of comparisons. 

If we'd wanted to go to a winery, we would have headed to the Antinori estate about half an hour away and conveniently located for the tourist trade just off the main Florence-to-Siena highway. One of the most historic vintners in Tuscany, they invested in a high-tech, Architectural Digest-worthy new winery a decade ago that's a tourist attraction in itself. There's an art collection, a restaurant and a variety of tours and sampling experiences you can pre-book, but at a starting point of €46 per person this is for more serious wine tourists.

The dreamy drive

We opted, instead, for a picturesque drive back to the highway. Head north through Greve (towards Florence) and look for signs to Montefioralle. Follow them on a white-knuckle drive up hairpin bends through an olive grove to get to the walled medieval "borgo" at the top. La Castellana, just before you come to the walls, is another great restaurant choice in this area and you can enjoy a magnificent dinner on their outdoor terrace overlooking the valleys of Chianti. Just remember that someone is going to have to drive back down after your relaxing meal. You can park outside the walls and have a wander through the picture-postcard lanes (it's much like Monteriggioni, the walled town I described in my last article) or continue on, waiting for the one-way light system that lets cars creep around the narrow track below the base of the walls. 

That sets a precedent. For the next 10 kilometres you'll rarely encounter any stretch of road that could be considered two full lanes. There are crazy turns and a lot of stretches where rough stone walls are uncomfortably close. It's not a route for hesitant drivers. But those who take it will be rewarded with spectacular views, and plenty of places to pull off the road from which to appreciate them. About two thirds of the way along the route you come to Badia a Passignano, though the ancient walled monastery will have been dominating your view for many miles before. It's another place you could get out and have a poke around, making a full day of your sightseeing. From there the road starts to slope downwards and eventually comes to a dead end in an industrial valley. Turn right for the nearest highway entrance, not left to Sambuca. You might imagine a storied alcoholic tradition and flaming shots in that direction, but the Tuscan village has nothing to do with the drink, which was developed in the late 19th century near Rome. Sambuca is simply a name for the elderberry.

The industrial estate you end up driving through seems a let-down after the gorgeous countryside you've just traversed, but Tuscany has one more delight on offer for the summer visitor. Just before the motorway you come to long fields of sunflowers in full bloom, one of the quintessential glamour shots of this area. This scene was made even better by a collapsing ruin of a farmhouse amidst the blooms. 

You'll have to take my word for that. I have no photos, I was driving. And I enjoyed several very nice glasses of wine to reward my efforts when we got home from that adventure.

Three off-the-beaten-track Tuscan towns that deliver charm and local tradition without the crowds

When you grow up, as I did, in the middle of a Venn diagram that intersects Italian heritage, love of history, art history and food, you see each Tuscan hill town as an entirely distinctive thing. This one might have an unusual tower on its town hall. That one might have a particularly lovely Madonna in its church. And on...

Here's the truth: unless you’re obsessed with Tuscan hill towns, they’re pretty much all the same.

There will be walls punctuated by guard towers, probably making a picturesque ensemble visible for miles. You’ll enter through a big gate, probably long bereft of its portcullis or any defensive gear. All roads will lead to a main square on which you’ll find a big, blocky town hall with a high tower sticking out of it. There will be at least one main church, probably on the same square as the town hall, and it is likely to have a bell tower. Main streets will be lined with imposing houses: square, blocky stolid buildings with no windows on the ground floor and no opening other than a big, arched gate that, if opened, will give you a glimpse into a generous courtyard around which the house is built. There will be a handful of other little squares, maybe some other small churches and several picturesque viewpoints from which you can take  in the spread of countryside below. Tourist shops will sell ceramics, leather and fine linens. There will be a lot of small, crowded food shops hawking jars of truffle-based products, dried porcini, specialty pastas, sausages and local wines. 

If you go to several and don’t make notes, you may find it challenging to differentiate your photos.

Why is it, then, that everyone follows the same paths to Sienna, San Gimignano and Lucca? (The last isn’t on a hill but the comparison still applies.) Tuscany is full of places that art historians might dismiss as Tier 2, but most visitors will find memorable. Here are three.

Colle di Val d'Elsa

Not far off the main road from Florence to Siena (SR2), here's the perfect example of a little gem people pass by on their way to more famous sites. Free parking suggested I was off the tourist track; not hearing a word of anything other than Italian in the excellent pastry shop where I had my breakfast confirmed it. 

In the valley of the river Elsa is a sprawling, modern industrial town that makes the bulk of Italy's glassware. The original walled town above it, however, is a picturesque gem almost free of free of crowds.  A single road starts from an impressive Renaissance gate, slopes down through venerable buildings to a branch where you can continue downward into the new town or head left for the old one. Cross a bridge that links two hills, go through another gate that’s also a Renaissance palace, and you’re into the original walled town. Again, it’s just a single road, probably no more than 400 metres from one end to the other. In the centre is a large square with the requisite town hall and duomo. More interesting, a little further on, is the tiny Santa Maria in Canonica, built in the 1100s and imbued with a sense of deep peace and antiquity. Medieval wall paintings survive and there’s an almost Byzantine Madonna and Child illuminating the gloom as sun from the one small window shimmers off its gold leaf.

While most of the buildings here are early Renaissance, the whole place has a feel of enormormous age, more profound than Siena or Florence. It may be because those main towns have been so well preserved while Colle has the feel of everyday life about it. Many of the walls are a makeshift mix of brick and stone, with no fancy facing to disguise it. Many reveal centuries of renovations and re-working; you can see multiple arches, doorways and windows filled in and moved around in building facades. Throughout the upper town there are views down picturesque side alleys, many with views over the gorgeous countryside beyond.

There is a small glass museum not far from the church, and a handful of tourist shops. Despite the fact that

the place is known for glass, the three windows I peered in were potters, all producing modern stuff along side traditional patterns. There are a few restaurants, and in the upper town the exceptional Pastry Mario Barone. I suspect locals come from a broad area to patronise this lavish shop, its air conditioning, sleek white interior, chandeliers and pop music at odds with the sleepy town outside. I’ve rarely seen a more impressive array of baked goods in Italy and a fridge full of personalised birthday cakes being picked up by locals was constant. Come here for breakfast, then have a stroll around town.

There is nothing in Colle that would make any guidebook’s Top 10 list. Its greatest claim to fame is as the birthplace of Arnolfo di Cambio, who promptly left to design great things in other cities, like the Duomo in Florence. (There’s a statue of him in front of the family home in a pretty little square next to Santa Maria in Canonica.)  Yet in atmosphere and antiquity Colle has everything you could want from a Tuscan hill town. Minus the tourists. If it hadn’t been so brutally hot, I could have easily spent the day here with a sketchbook, trying to capture one fabulously picturesque scene after another.

Volterra

Volterra, on the other hand, can present a long list of reasons why it's a "must see". Its location 25 miles west of the Florence-Siena flight path, however, and the fact that it's relatively challenging to get to on public transportation, means it's still comfortably off the beaten track. I had worried that its appearance in the blockbuster Twilight franchise as the HQ of European vampires might have turned it into another Dubrovnik/King's Landing. Thankfully, other than one tattered movie poster and three goths heading into a bar at dinner time, Volterra was still a magical place with more layers of history than your average Tuscan town, and fewer tourists appreciating them.

The town, pictured at the top, immediately differentiates itself with its landscape. You’re approaching the sea and the Maremma salt marshes here. The valleys between the hills are broader, more likely to be gold with grasslands and wheat than green with oak, olive and vines. There are fewer towns. It all feels wilder and more mysterious, and Volterra itself seems to sit higher than other towns in splendid isolation. Its roots are more ancient than most towns in Italy, a flourishing and sophisticated Etruscan capital from the 9th to the 7th century BC when Rome was only just establishing itself as a village of mud huts. The Etruscans remain one of Western Civilisation’s most intriguing peoples, clearly sophisticated and literate (one of the best collections of their art is here at the Guarnacci Museum, and you can scramble over their acropolis at the town’s highest point) yet almost no written records exist. One theory is that the Romans, fiercely jealous, destroyed all the Etruscan literature so that all greatness in Italy would originate from Rome. Any look around the treasures taken from Etruscan tombs, however, makes it clear these were people as sophisticated as the ancient Egyptians or the Minoans. I suspect the strange landscape and immense antiquity combined to inspire Stephanie Meyers to establish her vampires here; it feels entirely credible.

The Romans might have taken Volterra’s written past away, but they left a magnificent theatre and bath

complex which comprises probably the best Roman ruins in Tuscany. Cut into a westward-facing hillside, it’s marvellously picturesque to look at from above and on a clear day you can see all the way to the sea from here. Next come the medieval and Renaissance layers, here looking much more like other towns with a town hall that has doubled for Florence’s Palazzo Signoria in historical dramas, and numerous aristocratic Palaces. There are some unusually broad and gracious shopping streets to balance the quintessential winding lanes, and a particularly splendid Medici fortress set in a verdant park that’s no doubt so imposing because it still functions as a prison.

Volterra is also differentiated by its alabaster. The town sits on top of the finest seam in Italy, and has been producing precious things from the stone for its whole history. The usual Tuscan tourist shops sit beside alabaster workshops and boutiques full of everything from affordable bits of jewellery and small decorative objects to fabulously expensive sculptures and light fixtures. 

While there are plenty of tourists here, it doesn’t get the jostling crowds of Florence and you’ll hear much more Italian being spoken. The restaurants feel particularly authentic. Check out Brasseria del Grifone, a fantastic micro brewery where the brewmaster is on site to talk you through his range of beer styles and his mother is in the kitchen knocking up snacks; Isola del Gusto, a tiny gelato shop showing off a range of international awards and a visit from American travel guru Rick Steves … and yes, it was the best gelato I had this visit to Italy; or dinner at Torre del Porcellino, wizards at creating variety from pig and wild boar. I wish we’d been closer so we could have eaten there more than once. My wild boar in a chocolate and orange sauce was the most sophisticated cooking I had this trip, and everyone else was rolling their eyes in ecstasy at their choices. 

Monteriggione

Anyone who’s driven between Florence and Siena would have seen this magnificent circle of medieval walls on its hilltop directly next to the highway, but I’d never met anyone who’d visited. I’d driven by it multiple times over the years, always in too much of a hurry to get to somewhere more important. You could certainly argue that it’s at its best observed as a whole from a neighbouring hillside; there’s not that much inside the walls. But it’s definitely worth a stop, especially if you’re trying to go beyond the usual itinerary. 

Siena built this place in the early 1200s as a front line fortress in its wars against Florence. Though it saw more than 200 years of violence before the Florentines finally won, the perfect circuit of walls still remains, punctuated by the crumbling ruins of 11 towers. Inside there are about 25 buildings surrounded by walled gardens, and a tiny permanent population. Unsurprisingly, the buildings are heavily restaurants, shops and B&Bs. You park below and hike up a landscaped path to go in the main gate. It’s also no surprise that the town was used as the setting for the Assassin’s Creed games set it Renaissance Italy; the whole place looks like a film set.

We turned up for Monteriggione’s annual medieval festival, obviously the biggest event of the year for the tiny population of locals. Coming at it hard on the heels of the Chalk Valley History Festival, I confess to being more than a bit disappointed. English re-enactors obsess over authenticity and go to impressive lengths with costume and accessories. The Monterrigione gang was sporting a lot of visible zippers, nylon capes, womens’ support hose instead of tights and obviously modern shoes and boots. There were a few historical re-enactments by people with slightly better costumes, but overall it was a bit more like a medieval-themed costume party and excuse to eat and drink. 

Activities didn’t start until 4 pm, the best bands were rocking at 10 pm and fireworks wouldn’t close things down until 12:30 am. Facebook photos from after we left showed a packed festival crowd after dark, dancing into the wee hours. It was fun to wander through in the late afternoon, but we were happy to leave it behind and head to a local restaurant for a quieter dinner. Outside of festival time, I think Monteriggione would be a great place to stay for a night or two, or to wander in the late afternoon before a dinner at one of its local restaurants. 

La Dama nella Vigna, where we went instead, is a modern, purpose-built restaurant nestled in the vineyards below the walled town. Even on busy nights the place looks empty, because the kitchen and bar are at the front and the whole place faces onto the vines at the back. In summer, many of the tables are nestled into the vines themselves. Contrary to expectations, this isn’t a restaurant related to the vineyard itself or the wines that come out of it; the wine list pulls together bottles from across Tuscany. The food is resolutely Tuscan and all about the meat, flamed over coals on a massive grill. While we all opted for the classic pici with wild boar ragu, this is clearly the kind of place to go for a massive bistecca fiorentina. 

Like everything else in this post, La Dama was full of as many Italians as visitors, and worth another visit. Tuscany’s hot spots may be amongst the most crowded tourist locations in Europe, but with a bit of effort  it’s actually possible to find more authentic and enjoyable substitutes. 

Coping strategies to enjoy Florence and Siena despite summer crowds

The tragic irony of tourism is that it destroys the things it celebrates. Once someplace makes it onto every guidebook’s “must see” list, the experience of visiting is often more about endurance than enjoyment. While not yet as bad as Venice, summer sightseeing in Florence and Siena now falls solidly into the hard work camp. I suspect San Gimignano is the same, though we didn’t visit on this trip.

People, of course, have been complaining about crowds in Florence since Lucy Honeychurch snagged her Room with a View, but a world of relatively cheap international air travel, plus the ever-escalating numbers of visitors from Asia, has pushed Tuscan tourism to a place unrecognisable from my first visits as a teenager. Nothing sold out back then, you didn’t need to get tickets for anything in advance and all the churches were free. Now there’s a world of long queues, you won’t get in to the Uffizi without a reservation and you’re generally being forced to plan your days; something at odds with the serendipity of discovery I’ve always found marks a good Italian holiday. 

SIENA BASICS

In Siena, for example, we managed to get tickets when we walked up to the cathedral at 10:30. Ironically, it was faster to buy online than wait in the queue, though you then still need to get in another queue to redeem your online purchase for a paper ticket, and another to get into the cathedral itself. At this last queue, individual ticket holders have to wait as group tours get priority. (An early lesson for my friends in why everything takes longer in Italy than you think it will.) Inside, there’s now a strictly enforced one-way system where people shuffle by the famous bible stories laid into the floor in pietra dura mosaic. I understand why they’ve had to take such measures. I swear the 500-year-old floors look significantly more worn than they did just 30 years ago. But any sense of the sacral is gone and there’s no way, beyond the arial view published on the cathedral’s web site, to get a sense of the majesty of the total scheme because as a visitor you can’t get a view that stretches more than 20 feet without a wall of humanity forming an artificial horizon. 

Siena’s cathedral is still one of the great sights of Italy, and the Piccolomini Library off to one side would make my list of the ten most beautiful rooms in the country, with its vivid murals bringing the accomplishments of the donating family to glorious life. Give me this over the Sistine Chapel any day. There are still spots where you can sit down in the main church, let the crowds wash around you and give yourself over to quiet contemplation of an individual story on the floor, or the majestic painted roof. But if you don’t slow down, pull yourself out of the queue and make yourself really look, it’s easy to become one of the plodding masses. Shuffle by. Take photo. Post on social media. Tick off list in guidebook.

While a prompt start meant we got straight (more or less) into the cathedral, by early afternoon first admission into the town hall to see the famous murals of good and bad government required a wait of two hours. A leisurely lunch at Ristorante al Mangia, overlooking the Campo (the main town square) was just as much a part of the day’s experience as the sightseeing. As was wandering through Siena’s shops, which seem to have a higher proportion of both air conditioning and variety than do other towns in Tuscany. It’s almost as if locals still live and shop here, something that’s difficult to believe of much of Florence’s historic centre these days. 

Fortunately for today’s visitors, Florence’s leading families embraced conspicuous consumption. They felt that decorating public spaces was just as important as their private palazzi. So even if you don’t spend the time or money to get inside anything, you can still have an excellent day drinking in atmosphere. The friends I accompanied were in Italy for the first time, and all about introductions. They wanted to get the feel of a place and a sense of what they might want to return to see. A broad range of tastes, one teenager, and short attention spans meant hours looking at paintings in the Uffizi or frescoed ceilings at the Pitti Palace would be a waste of time and money. Florence needed to be a taster tour.

ELLEN’S FLORENTINE WALKING TOUR

We started at the main Santa Maria Novella train station. It’s still one of the ugliest and most crowded in Europe, but has recently been much improved by a tram line that comes in from the airport in 20 minutes, and from a park-and-ride branch on the main motorway to the southwest. The €1.50 fare is a bargain and this is an ideal option for people coming on a city break who don’t plan to have a car.

First we walked to the front of the church that names the station to get an introduction to the inlaid pastel fantasy of marble characteristic of Tuscan church facades. Then to bigger examples: the duomo, baptistery and bell tower.  The outdoor masterpieces here are arguably better than anything you can see inside: the sculptural scenes on the baptistery doors made by Ghiberti and Pisano, Giotto’s extraordinary bell-tower and Brunelleschi’s miraculous dome. You probably don’t even need a map here because, like a leaf falling onto a stream, the flow of people will just push you down the Via dei Calzaiuoli toward the Piazza della Signoria. This main drag between cathedral and town hall is central artery of Florentine history and commerce. Step out of the flow to admire the outside of the Orsanmichele church. Once again, the best stuff is on the outside. In a race to show off their wealth and good taste, various guilds sponsored each niche around the above the streets, filling them with masterpieces of renaissance sculpture by Donatello, Ghiberti, Gianbologna and Verrocchio. Some are now copies of precious masterpieces moved indoors but, unlike the awkward doppelgänger of Michaelangelo’s David in front of the Palazzo Signoria, I challenge anyone who’s not an art historian to spot the fakes. 

If you’ve still got the energy, resist the temptation to look at the Piazza Signoria at the top of the street, and instead turn right. In a block you’ll run into the Mercato Nuovo, a beautiful loggia open on four sides and stuffed with local crafts. Rather reassuringly not much has changed here. It’s still the same densely-packed warren of leather goods, luxury textiles, silk scarves and ties. Most seem still to be made in Italy and prices are fair. I think modern tourism and social media has killed the world where no prices are displayed, traders started high and a good negotiator could haggle down to great deals. Prices now are more uniform and haggling less expected, though you can still get a good discount if you deal in cash. If you’re going beyond Florence, however, keep in mind that most of the Tuscan hill towns have leather stores carrying similar ranges and prices get cheaper the further off the beaten track you go.

Now, assuming you started between 10 and 11, it’s time for lunch. Head back to the Piazza Signoria and grab a table with a view at one of the restaurants that extends onto the square. To be honest, which one doesn’t matter; they’re all much-of-a-muchness, with a menu of tourist classics competently prepared and priced 20% above what you could get in the next street. You’re paying for the view, which was excellent from our table at Bar Perseo in the northwest corner of the square. This isn’t just lunch, it’s seated sightseeing. While relaxing in shade, and under steady puffs of cooling mist, you can admire the towered town hall that started as a home of oligarchy dressed up as democracy, and devolved to a Medici palace. Appreciate the Loggia Lanzi beside it, a glorious outdoor sculpture gallery. You can see the edge of the Uffizi, and all of the other stately buildings around the square. Most are renaissance but a few new ones dropped into the scene in the 19th century, built in the same style. There’s lots of other decorative sculpture, including a brash fountain of Neptune and an impressive bronze of Cosimo the Great (the first Medici grand duke) on horseback. Use your imagination to conjure up the scenes of the Bonfire of the Vanities, held here in 1479 when radical monk Savonarola convinced the town’s rich to incinerate their favourite objects of culture. Though I prefer to imagine the burning at the stake a year later of that same revolutionary, when popular opinion turned and they torched him, too. When it comes to book and art burners, karma is a good thing.

SHOPPING AND BACKSTREETS, FROM THE PITTI PALACE TO SANTA CROCE

From here, walk over to and across the Ponte Vecchio. It remains a great place to buy gold but research prices before you buy. The craftsmanship and quality is unique here. But if you’re going to buy it’s good to be fluent in the price of 24k gold, so you know what you’re paying for the art on top of the weight. Continue up the street to take a look at the Pitti Palace, contemplating the Medici family’s evolution from merchants to royals. On your way back, pop your head into Bottega del Mosaico on the left side of the street as you return to the bridge. This is one of the few workshops and stores left that produces and sells the ancient art of pietra dura. Literally “hard stone”, it’s a type of mosaic made with pieces of highly polished, semi-precious stones like lapis lazuli and malachite. It’s typical to see tabletops of the stuff in museums, palaces and aristocratic homes across Europe, but this is the only place I know where you can buy something for yourself. Though still expensive … you’re paying for a rare skill and time-consuming craft … small pictures for the wall or pendants from your neck are in the realms of normal budgets.

From here you’re walking back over the bridge, turning hard right as soon as you cross and walking along the river to the back of the Uffizi. There’s a balcony that curves out over the rowing club on the river bank below that will give you your best photo of the Ponte Vecchio on this route, and will let you spot the Vasari corridor. That is the private route the Medicis built to get from the Palazzo Signoria to the Pitti Palace without ever setting foot in the street, visible when you spot the line of matching windows along the route..

Walk through the inner court of the Uffizi and then head for Santa Croce. This L-shaped route from the Pitti to Florence’s Franciscan basilica has some of the nicest shops you’ll pass. In addition to the mosaic store, look for small places with beautiful marbleised paper, handmade notebooks and other high end stationery; higher-end leather goods than you’ll find in the outside markets; wooden toys and all things Pinocchio (it’s a local story); shoes and fine woollens. 

It’s at Santa’s Croce that the ticketing system frustrates me the most. This is my favourite church in Florence, and no proper tour would be complete without a peak at the famous memorials (Michaelangelo, Dante, Machiavelli), Giotto’s Bardi Chapel (the Renaissance starts here!) and the Pazzi Chapel (one of the most beautiful little buildings ever designed). The official Florentine leather working school is also here, with a shop that offers things beyond the ordinary.  But it’s probably not worth €8 and a queue unless you want to linger for at least an hour. It’s still worth the wander this way, however, to glimpse the Pazzi Chapel through the cloister gates, see the big statue of Dante (the town that exiled him cashing in his fame) and contemplate the playing ground of “calico storico”. It’s here, once a year, that opposing teams from Florentine neighbourhoods play a ruthless game of football with no rules, regular bloodshed and rumours of convicts being sprung from jail for the event to beef up teams. A friend of mine saw the legendary game when one brute bit another’s ear off.

From there, navigate your way to the Bargello. Take the Via Torta out of the side of the square opposite the church and you’ll come upon Vivoli, a family-run ice cream shop in operation since 1929 that many locals swear by as the best in town. It’s just to the right of he first crossroad on Via del Isole delle Stinche, a name that gives as much delight to small children as the ice cream. No Italian summer afternoon is complete without a gelato break. 

Lick and walk, gazing up at the walls and tower of the Bargello. It appears a smaller copy of the Palazzo Signoria and was once the town prison. Now it’s my favourite museum in Florence. Full of decorative arts like pottery and sculpture, consider this the V&A to the Uffizi’s National Gallery. But this tour isn’t about going inside anywhere. You need to keep moving.

At this point there’s a choice. If you still have energy, you can head up to the Medici-Riccardi palace, checking out what the banking family built for themselves when their money was new and they were still competing with other families. It’s an impressive facade and has influenced countless buildings down the ages. From there head to San Lorenzo, the original parish church of the Medicis. Michelangelo’s famous Medici tombs and library are here, but you’re not going in. Instead, have a poke around the sprawling leather market outside. Similar stuff to the market you saw before lunch, but more of it. 

We were worn down by the heat, however, so skipped these last two stops and headed back to the train station. Whether or not you choose the final extension, that’s a solid circle tour of the heart of the historic town centre that gives you a taste of everything without paying for admission. Skipping entry queues and stopping frequently for meals and drinks makes it pleasant despite the crowds, and gives first-time visitors a sense of what makes this heart of the Renaissance beat. 

Seeing those crowds, however, has hardened my resolve that there’s only one way to do Florence any more if your objective is culture. Come in the winter, when the weather is bad and schools are in. Fly direct to Florence, take the tram in and settle into a hotel in the historic centre. Pre-book tickets to cultural institutions and sink into them for long, unhurried visits. 

But that is a very different kind of trip. Having consumed the amuse bouche of the Tuscan capital, we were heading off the beaten track. The rest of our Italian meal would be picturesque drives, wine hot spots and lesser-known hill forts. Read on for more.

Five tips for beating the heat in Italy

The Brits have always decamped to Italy en masse in the summer on the promise of guaranteed heat and sun, something they traditionally couldn’t count on across their green, pleasant and often-damp island. Climate change has altered that equation. While still dependable, the Italian heat is hotter and the sun more brutal.

I find myself in Tuscany as a heat wave named after the hound who guards the gates of hell, Cerberus, blasts temperatures over 40, starts to exact a death toll, and pushes daily highs towards historic records. Brits rarely experience days above 22 (72) at home, and while Americans … who flood through Italy in their summer holidays … often come from places with extreme heat, they’re used to near-ubiquitous air conditioning. What’s a visitor to do to cope with the extremes? 

STAY OUT OF CITIES

Admittedly a bit of a problem if your itinerary is set and hotel booked, but do everything you can to avoid city centres. Florence’s black paving stones and stolid stone palazzi are lovely to look at but they radiate heat as effectively as an Aga. Add motor vehicles and crowds of tourists and even basic sightseeing becomes physically challenging. Get into the countryside and temperatures will immediately go down a bit. Hill towns are likely to catch a bit of a breeze. No place is comfortable right now, but elevated, less crowded spots like Volterra or Montepulciano are operating at less of an extreme. 

A rental villa in the countryside, like our Lampone Cottage in the Pian del Lago between Monteriggioni and Siena, is the ideal. As I sit typing this in a centuries-old converted farm building, thick stone walls and terracotta floors do a remarkably effective job balancing temperature. (And show how Italians can cope without air conditioning.) Opening windows and doors not in direct sun and letting the breeze blow through further improves things.

SKEW YOUR DAYS EARLY AND LATE

Anglo-Saxons often express frustration with the mid-day closure in much of Southern Europe, when everything shutters for a few hours. Experience a heat wave like this and it will all make sense. It’s crazy, and probably dangerous, to be sightseeing in the middle of the day.

Get up early. Stay up late. Take a nap in between. If you can manage it, doze in some shade next to a swimming pool.

The early hours are magical. Colours haven’t yet been bleached by the fierce sun and the air retains some coolness from the night. Tourist attractions may not be open yet but if you’re in towns or cities, sightseers rarely emerge betore 10 am giving you fabulous photos and pleasant walks. 

At the other end of the day, the locals come out. Old men sit on benches in the shade gossiping. Families are out for their passegiata, a communal evening stroll. Restaurants spill into the streets and squares, and queues trail back from gelato stands.  The local medieval festival in Monteriggioni, near our villa, didn’t open until 4 pm and was only getting crowded when we left at 8. Making the most of the early and late hours not only keeps you cooler, but gives you a truer feel for Italian life.

RENT A CAR

Many people … particularly Americans … get very nervous about hiring cars in Italy. Yes, the local drivers are fast and aggressive. Yes, many regions feature roads that slither back and forth like a tub of serpents. But the roads are generally in good repair and a car is the gateway to off-the-beaten-track experiences. More importantly, in the heart of a heat wave it offers an insulated, air-conditioned box. And given the general lack of air conditioning in Italy’s hotels and holiday rentals, your car may become your only reliable refuge from the heat.

We adjusted our plans to build in more driving and less exploring on foot. Tuscany is full of spectacular views. If you take your time, keep an eye open for lay-bys and pull in regularly, you’ll be able to snap some great shots … or merely appreciate the scene. 

Whoever does the PR for the Val d’Orcia has done an amazing job promoting the stretch of road between San Quirico and Pienza. It is pretty, and there’s one particular villa in the fields with a white marble chapel to one side that’s so familiar it’s practically a logo for the whole region. But if you’re going between the wine towns of Montalcino and Montepulciano (the main reason for being in this bit of Tuscany), we found a little detour beyond Montalcino to the Abbazia di Sant‘Antimo to be more beautiful; particularly views down on the abbey itself, an ancient Romanesque building bleached white in a valley of golds and greens.

 

The road from Greve-in-Chianti up to the Castello Montefiorelle, then along to Badia Passignano and on to Sambuca before joining the highway is truly spectacular and could be a day in itself if you stopped along the route to explore. The road from Colle di Val d’Elsa to Volterra is another blockbuster, particularly around sunset. This route also offers a picturesque view of San Gimignano without having to brave its crowds.

TAKE ICE SERIOUSLY

If you’ve rented a villa, you’re likely to have a full-sized refrigerator and freezer. Make the most of the latter. Make new ice at least twice a day, on waking and before going to bed. Get a bowl or a bag in there and keep it full. Only have one ice tray? Explore your cupboards for anything that could make good cubes. (We’ve had four plastic tumblers turning out eight giant ones a day, ideal for serving limoncello spritzes in pint glasses. Inelegant, but effective.)

As you empty plastic water bottles, re-fill them and freeze them. Taking a frozen bottle with you first thing should ensure you have cool water all morning. Don’t want to wait for the initial melt? Fill the bottle 3/4 full, freeze it at an angle (avoiding the cap, or you won’t be able to twist it off) and fill the empty bit with water just before you head out. 

You can fashion a cooler bag for the car by putting several frozen bottles in a towel, and then into a bag. If you have a fan, positioning it so it will blow over a bowl of ice will make the room cooler. (You can literally freeze a whole bowl of water to make this trick effective.) And if you’re having a miserable time sleeping in a hot room, you can freeze a two litre bottle of ice solid, wrap it in a towel and use it as a pillow; it will bring your whole body temperature down.

BE SENSIBLE ABOUT FOOD AND DRINK

Tourists in Italy inevitably default to pasta and pizza. With good reason. I could happily eat tagliatelle with cinghiale ragu, a local specialty, every day of my holiday. But real Italians no more exist on a diet of heavy carbohydrates than Brits start each day with a full English breakfast. A carb-heavy diet is a particularly bad idea in hot weather, where you’ll be sluggish and possibly feel ill as your metabolism struggles to digest the bulk. Take a tip from the locals and default to items like cold meat and cheese platters, melon and prosciutto or insalata caprese. (If you want to know how to survive in Italy without pork products or … heaven forfend … as a vegan, you’re going to have to find someone else’s blog. I haven’t a clue.)

In this weather you’ll understand why Italians eat so much ice cream. While you might not adopt the Sicilian habit of having it for breakfast in a brioche bun, you will find it both cools you down and gives you a lighter-than-carbs energy boost to keep going.

Alcohol, of course, isn’t a good thing in excessive heat since it can provoke dehydration, high blood pressure and dizziness. When temperatures soar, one glass of wine can carry the same punch as two or three. Start by focusing on your water. In extreme heat you should be drinking at least two litres a day, if not more. Though it’s more famous for its wine, Italy is like the rest of the world in having a thriving new culture of micro-breweries. There are lots of local offerings to try. The Brasseria del Grifone in Volterra is an excellent example of this new trend, with a variety of styles brewed on site by a local who will happily talk you through his range. 

If you are here for the wine, drink less of it and think about doing it once you’ve finished sightseeing and are established wherever you’re staying in the relative cool of the evening. 

Even if you follow all of these tips, travel in Italy is challenging when the temperatures soar. I confess to breathing a sigh of relief that I’m heading back to cool, rainy England as next week’s temperatures push toward the record. These tips allowed us to avoid the worst of the trauma this week and may help others as another summer of climate change pushes visitors to the edge of endurance.

The best tip of all, however? Plan your trip in May or late September.

National Gallery shows a road to modern art that’s all about change

If you’ve ever looked at a piece of modern art and wondered “how the hell did we get HERE?”, the National Gallery’s new exhibition is for you. It’s as relevant for those who exclaim that with distaste as it is for those expressing appreciative wonder, though the latter may enjoy it more.

After Impressionism: inventing modern art traces the path from those fuzzy haystacks, sunrises and lovely ladies, through the bold and the bizarre, through to full abstraction.

The first room sets the stage beautifully with a large Cezanne canvas of naked bathers … angular, odd and a somewhat sickly green… hung a few steps from the kind of thing the establishment probably preferred to buy at the time. Chavannes’ bathers in The Sacred Grove are classical deities in a sylvan landscape. It’s pretty. It’s safe. It’s entirely forgettable. (Literally. It’s on loan from the Art Institute of Chicago, a museum I practically grew up in, and I don’t remember ever seeing it.) The comparison between Chavannes and Cezanne tells you in a single glance how shocking the revolution of styles must have been.

The next gallery is likely to be most popular, with a lush and lavish collection of Van Goghs, Cezannes and Gaugins. After that comes a room with a lovely Seurat, and three by Paul Signac in a similar paint-with-dots style that fuses the ephemeral quality of impressionistic light with a more geometric approach to constructing a scene.

However pleasing many of these early canvases are to the eye, a more disturbing revolution is already brewing within them. Colours become increasingly unnatural. Lines, angles and shapes get bolder. A heady and sometimes disturbing sexuality creeps in to the female portraits. “Was Gaugin a paedophile?” wondered the friend I was with as we encountered a recumbent, pre-pubescent South Seas islander. Perhaps more disturbing was Gaugin’s attempt at pottery nearby; just the bottom half of a lop-sided head. You wouldn’t want this in your house, especially in dim light. We’re quickly moving away from the pleasing and towards the provocative as the reason for art.

From there the revolution picks up speed through the late 19th and early 20th centuries, with significant pieces by all the names you’d expect: Klimt, Munch, Mondrian, Picasso. There’s a fair amount here you won’t have seen before, even if you are a habitual museum-goer; the curators are particularly proud of how much they’ve liberated from private collections. The later galleries explore the revolution by location, showing off similarities in groups of artists working in close proximity to each other. No, It’s not just your imagination. Vienna in the early 20th century was a very odd place.

The exhibition doesn’t bring it up, but I couldn’t help thinking about the fact that all the focus was on the continent. Back in Britain, leaders of fashion were supporting William Morris and the pre-Raphaelite movement. We might have been pushing the boundaries of industry and technology, but in art this country was looking back to Renaissance Italy, Ancient Rome or a romantic vision of the Middle Ages.

As someone who, in my professional life, spends an enormous amount of time talking about the ever-increasing pace of change since the turn of the 20th century and the growing stress of keeping up with it, it occurred to me for the first time that perhaps modern art is a reflection of how we’re coping with this great acceleration. Some offers the safety of tradition or the comfort of gentle pleasure. Some reflects our fear and angst back at us. Some challenges us to stretch our imaginations beyond who and what we are now.

The path to modern art isn’t comfortable, but neither is modern life. The National Gallery does a find job of showing how the two grew together.

After Impressionism runs until 13 August