May 9, 2005 Ponte Rio, Umbria Italy.

    I was so excited about getting to our flyfishing adventure on the Nera River, that I had forgotten to wake up Brenda to catch the day train to Assisi with Kara and Brittany. I realized this on the stream about 11:00 AM. This was going to call for some fancy talking or better yet maybe a glorious meal under the fig tree at our tower when they returned. I also took the cell phone with me and didn't know what train they would be on. How bad could it be ? There were only three trains a night from Assissi to Perugia to Ponte Rio station near Todi. We'll just meet each one.

   I took Dante along to pick up our wives and Brittany at the station. Hmmmmm they weren't on the first train at 5:00. No problem. I took Dante over to the Tudernum Cantina (winery) to buy wine for dinner. The liquid staple of the Mediterranean diet is wine. Since they have been engaged in cultivation and producing better and better wines for over 2,000 years, it is not surprising that local wines are great. Specifically, the red Sangrantino had been wonderful and Brenda was now a big fan of the Grechetto from Tudernum. The owners, on hearing our English, pulled a young sales apprentice from the stock room to speak English with us. I introduced Dante as a Food and Beverage manager from America. I'm afraid it got translated as " The Food and Beverage manager for America.". In no time we had some free Tudernum cork screws and two free bottles of their premium wine. Check out the picture of Dante filling his glass from the pump where the villagers refill their "vini di casa' containers.

   Next we check for our wives on the 5:45 train from Perugia. Still no luck. Oh well. Next we found a small store called "Gastrominque" where we effortlessly slipped into the international language of fine cheese and proscuitto. The owner started slicing cheese samples each more incredible than the last. With no real Italian what so ever, Dante picked out 3 kinds of incredible pecorino and some 'affumicato mozzarella' (hay smoked FRESH mozzarella). We should be forced to call mozzarella by another name here at home out of respect for real mozzarella. What about pasta, what about some proscuitto, what about some bread. Just Point, Click, and Bag. At the Ispri supermarket be picked up olives, rocket salad greens, peppers, arrugula, tomatoes, cucumber, cookies, gelato, and schermato that turned out to be skim milk rather than cream.  It was now about 6:45, the next train was 7:30. I had just enough time to rush Dante home and get back with maybe a few moments to help chop the vegetables and pick some basil and rosemary.

    The train was a little late but so was I. Pulling into the parking lot I saw the frazzled tourists.  The slumped into the car reminding me that I'd forgotten to wake them. I made some promises for a glorious dinner  that I was hoping Dante could pull together in 35 minutes.

   On the way back, night was falling, and we noticed what looked like landing lights in a field leading to a stone building with a single window. As we approached we say that the lights were actually burning torches and a crowd of villagers were also holding burning torches. As we got closer, my curiosity evaporated with a vision of the villagers searching out werewolves or renegades. Maybe it would be best to leave these kind people to their own ceremony, as mysterious and pagan as it looks, and ask about it in the day light if the opportunity arose.

    When we arrived back home this is what we saw. All was forgiven.