Tuscany: day 2 walk

Walk on Tuesday, day 2 
By bus to Pruno. Hard uphill. Initially up past a thatched old hut then through beautiful beech forests. Leaves are turning in a few places and there are already many underfoot. Last season’s I’d guess.

Then onto a flatter ridge with a cross overlooking a valley full of villages. 

More hills. Up to another cross, again, overlooking the large valley beneath. 

As only I can, I tripped myself up. Improbable but one lace got caught in the eyelets of the other boot. Trying to walk with two boots wishing to stay close to each other does not work. I face planted as one lace caught itself in the hooks on the other boot 🤓. Oh well. It was the first time this trip 🙄. Idiot!

Another wooden cross on the small mountain of Pania di Corfino.

(L to R: Jen, Ruth, Sue, Sue, Val, Carol, Iris)

And then down. Down an old sheep track, steep and with a lot of loose stone. Down over bigger rocks, sort of stairs and finally, our end village for the day, Corfino. This is an old village with the remnants of a 12th or 13th century city wall. The result is some odd arches, strange corners and a beautiful old town. A very different place from the classic painted Tuscany. 

Being a bit unfit it was not the easiest walk, especially scurrying down to our end point. With some lightning on the ridge we all moved down fairly quickly. Those of us a little ahead had time to pick and eat a few blackberries. Hmmm. Bit small, as the Brits said. Of the 3 of us eating them 2 were the foreigners, the non Brits. Not just because we were there first but apparently those in the UK are a lot better, bigger, juicier and freely available in hedgerows.☺️

The group

By now you are wondering about the group I’m with. Right? How we are getting on etc and how it compares to the wonderful one I was with in Peru. 

Remember two things as you read this next bit: first, British reserve and second, my version of an old song ‘hullo mother, hullo father, here I am at camp Granada,.. Take me home, oh mother father,.. I hate Granada ………..the sun is out, boys are fishing, boys are jumping it is fun at camp Granada’.

Well….. Very very different from those on the Peru trip. Except for me, and a Canadian who lives in France, everyone is British. 

The six Brits speak a different language, one that often excludes us two foreigners. The Canadian said the other night at the dinner table that she often has no idea what they are talking about. Me neither. They speak about British locations and products in their own little way. 😜 It’s a different world and some don’t try to include us outsiders. I’m very appreciative of those who do and sometimes, those who don’t!

Also, at the start there was a little clique who had been on many of this company’s trips. So that was what they’d talk about in their little huddles: who was on the x trip or the y trip. Riveting. But that was a few only, they dug it to death and everyone moved on from that. 

So, the group? Definitely not the people who showed up on Facebook as coming (no guys, for a start) but, if this was my first experience walking with a group of women, I probably wouldn’t repeat it, if i thought it would be like it was as in the first few days.

For example, there was a little private party at one place on the first night before dinner. And I wasn’t invited. I don’t know who was but I wasn’t. How it was done was a little like at boarding school. In and out people. No, I’m out. But you’d guessed that!

A few academics, teachers, various community workers, business woman, the usual mix. Nearly half of us with a PhD, so, the type of mix I’d expect in a women’s walking group.

The women’s group in Peru included women with 4 nationalities, a range of ages and interests and got on a lot better. Yes, 3 nationalities in this one but, with a large predominant group, 75% of us being the one nationality makes it different. 

We still have days to go so things may change. I have to learn to understand and speak english, for a start. ‘Please pass me my cup’ means ‘please pass me my cap’. 😆. I got that one wrong yesterday. I said ‘trannie’ when talking about who I thought was coming and many heard ‘training’. So the anecdote made absolutely no sense 😋.

Games and more

After the dinner on day 2 we played a parlour game! Charades. Everyone but me had played it before. I have assiduously avoided parlour games for years. And, given the strong cultural associations of the films, books, plays etc that people know, and my cultural bypass, you can guess. Yes, I hated almost every moment of it and couldn’t escape. Nor could I participate as I’d never heard of most things ‘charaded’. Like, a play on at the NC* …. where *=some other letter. National something-or-other. Who cares! Who would know! 

I bet this foreshadows games every night from now on. Charades, truth and lies and heaven knows what else. No! I don’t want to know. Nor do I want to go to any of them. Too much. Sad thing is, it’s all done near the only internet access point. Hmmm…

I was asked to the evening drinks on Tuesday. On at 6pm at one of the houses. We are together almost all day from 08:00 until dinner finishes about 21:00. We have a brief break straight after we get back for a shower and clothes washing. Then more togetherness? I am a grumpy old lady unaware of British places, things, shops, culture and games. And no doubt much more….,

Now, I also miss our wonderful guide into Machu Picchu. She had an unnerving ability to foreshadow commercial opportunities and toilet breaks. Well, not unnerving as she knew the area well but she also anticipated the group’s needs for those. Very impressive she was.



One thought on “Tuscany: day 2 walk

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s