news-record.com

Thursday, Oct. 9

Two young Americans are getting married at Spannocchia, and we are leaving to make room for the wedding party. Coincidently, a virus has hit us, and we can't work anyway. Our Italian friends, Stefano Valenti and Sira Barbesi, found a small apartment in their hill town, Torri, that overlooks the next valley.

Torri thrived in the Middle Ages with 300 inhabitants, a handsome number at that time, all contained in a five-acre space and surrounded by sturdy 20-foot walls. It overlooked a fertile valley and boasted a monastery and church. Even before the Christian era, the Etruscans and then the Romans had settled the area. Siena protected it, and you can see that great city from our apartment window.

As soon as we arrive, we go outside to the olive orchard and flop into lawn chairs. Soon the orchard gardeners emerge -- chickens, geese, a turkey and cats. They keep us entertained all day.

Friday

The cloister of the monastery is an architectural gem. Medieval artisans carved geometric designs and pagan and biblical scenes and symbols into white marble on the capitals of the 46 columns. Alternating black and white marble give the entire assemblage a rhythmic quality. It is the only remaining Romanesque cloister in Tuscany.

We throw some euros into a basket for Marino, the gardener who opens it on Monday and Friday mornings. He leads us outside to the garden and also opens the wine cellar, a labyrinth of tunnels where wine was made. The long corridors give us a better grasp of the monastery's former prosperity. Torri went into decline a few centuries ago, and a wealthy Genoan family bought the entire town and converted the monastery into its own 40-room villa. The rest of the buildings are now apartments for 65 renters.

In its day, the cloister would have been a quiet hub to the many productive activities of the brothers. This is in accord with the Benedictine motto, "Work and pray."

In my 20s, I thought of joining a Benedictine monastery in Weston, Vt. I was drawn by the piety of the 14 brothers, the beauty of their craftsmanship and their work for peace. I participated in their daily rounds of chanting prayer, six hours of labor and silent meals.

At Torri, the monks had 8-by-8-foot cells with individual doors leading outside to a small garden patch overlooking a stream.

We stop at the photo gallery of Jacopo Jacopozzi, who is writing about and photographing the cloister. For 35 years, he was the chief editor of photography for The Associated Press office in Rome.

Alongside his photos, we see articles and pictures of him with several popes, presidents and movie stars. In fact, he is an amiable fellow, and we talk politics.

Saturday

The bells of the monastery ring at 9 a.m., noon and sunset, but today there is a wedding. We go and snoop around, and soon Stefano and Sira come by and invite all of us for lunch.

At lunch, Jacopo points out that Italians our age would find it difficult to be away from home for two months as we are doing.

"You would be caught between two generations, children and parents, both still dependent on you. Then, as an Italian professional you would be obliged to stick around." I do not mention that Italians already get at least a month off, if not more, each year.

Sunday

Stefano and Sira sweep us up and drive us into parts of Tuscany we have not seen. Along the way we visit an old flour mill and stop at Chiassia, a mere dot on the map. But it has a popular bakery that supplies the area with bread and draws visitors from Florence. The owner has just died, and Stefano inquires because he is a baker and he and Sira are interested in running a bakery. "Who knows," a woman says, "but the lease is up next year and the price is fair."

Monday

This morning, we walk around Torri as if it's our own neighborhood. Jacopo has an idea for a new book. He is intrigued by who visits this cloister and why. He asks Debby to write the first contribution and takes several shots of us.

Tuesday

We take the bus into Siena to look at books and sit in the main square. During the Middle Ages, Siena rivaled Florence in power and influence and Paris in population. It began to build the largest church in all of Christendom when the plague struck in the 14th century. Its population dropped from 100,000 to 30,000, and construction on the church stopped, leaving a shell. The city still has only 60,000 inhabitants. Soon entertainers appear, and we discover that we are in the midst of tables of guffawing tourists. We leave, do some errands and return to Torri.

All this time we are cooking our own meals. We walk to and buy from a grocery in nearby Rosia and use herbs from the garden and eggs from the hens. Tuscany, like other Mediterranean regions, is concerned about the imported and popular "American" diet of processed and fast food. On a news program, we see the Tuscan officials gather to launch a new food pyramid encouraging fresh fruits and vegetables. It goes against our romantic views of Italian food, but, yes, industrialized food is everywhere in Italy and very popular among young people and busy families.

Later in the day, Claudio, our host, comes by with a research paper of the area. He shows me a marble stone embossed with a flower that he found while renovating our apartment. "There's all kinds of carved stones underneath," he says.

Thursday

We try to help Stefano and Sira. We walk to town for some groceries and prepare lunch: a roasted chicken, caprese (mozzarella, tomatoes, basil) and a potato frittata. They like it, and we feel good about our cooking.

This evening Stefano says he'll make some soup, and then we walk into a full dinner of assorted antipasti, a seafood pasta and avocado stuffed with shrimp. Stefano is a consummate baker and cook. This summer, he was the chef at a new Italian restaurant in Camden, Maine, and is in demand in other countries. For now, he is happy to cook for friends.

Friday

The big dinner is tonight. Everyone is contributing. I am preparing and cooking the lamb alongside sausage and radicchio on the grill. Jacopo brings ravioli with spinach and ricotta; Daniela, an ear-shaped pasta dish; Sira, beets. A heated exchange builds up about the declining safety of Italian cities and the continued presence of the Mafia. Tempers flare, and Claudio leaves the table. The future of America is the next topic, and feelings are strong because American ways and economics push the buttons of Italians. We part at midnight after grappa, sweets and coffee.

Saturday

A farmers' market has just this year been established in nearby Sovicille. We taste cheese, honey, marmalades and meat and sniff herbal and floral concoctions. We wait in line to buy raw chestnuts to roast and chestnut honey to take home. Along the way, we see two Italian friends, and they invite us to their farms. On the drive home, our host at Torri talks about her dream of establishing an eco-village. She laments how Italians are slow to pick up on sustainability. "Everyone here rhapsodizes about the springtime, the food and the beautiful countryside but doesn't try to protect and conserve it." "But why?" I ask. "We take it all for granted."

Sunday, last day

Torri has reinvented itself to fit into the modern world. It was once self-sufficient but now draws its energy from power lines and food from stores. A few people work here, but most drive to work. The social fabric, however, is particularly strong and supportive. A large part of this is the ability to relax and enjoy life. Their pace is slower than Americans', meals are longer, and conversations endless. I have found some of this frustrating. I want to get up and go.

But an older culture conserves its strength and dwells on what it does well. It is less idealistic, experimental and future-oriented. It is more intent on the pleasure of the moment, and I am learning to live with that.

Editor's note: Charlie Headington is a UNCG lecturer and slow food advocate. He and his wife, Debby Seabrooke, are spending the fall in Greece and Italy. This is one of several installments on their experiences.