We flew into Rome and got a rental car and drove two hours to Castiglione del Lago. The farther you get from Rome, the easier the traffic becomes. When you get within the last half hour on the autostrada, you start to see the castle-like hill towns from the middle ages. There are hundreds of these castles and hamlets scattered over the countryside. The two hours seem long, but when we start to catch glimpses of our own hill town perched high above Lake Trasamino, we feel like we’re almost home.

We are always a bit jet-lagged by the 9 hour difference and spending all that time cooped up in an aluminum tube with a lot of strangers. One of the passengers wore a hood and dark glasses. I thought it was the Unabomber. He had a couple of guys that came up to see him from economy class. Turns out he was LL Cool J! If you don’t know who that is, you’ll have to ask someone in their 20s like I did.

We had someone come in and remove the plastic over the furniture and clean, but we made the bed and got things settled. Maria and Luigi, from the other end of our farmhouse, came over right away. Luigi mows the grass and feeds the fish in our pond while we’re gone. Maria always brings fresh eggs, a half chicken and produce from their garden. Wonderful people. They raise chickens, rabbits and doves for food and have a large garden that seems to produce all year long. I think they live very well on very little money.

We went to the Coop for some groceries then went into town for dinner. There is a wine and cheese shop in town that we always go to. They greet us like long lost relatives and have to share the latest cheese and sample a new line of wine and catch up on the town gossip. Small towns are the same everywhere, just some are friendlier than others.

The waiters at the Cantina greeted us and inquired about our trip. The Cantina is a very old building with arched brick ceilings, stone walls and a large fireplace. After a mezzo (half) litre of the house red and wonderful food we were feeling much better. The Italians take two and a half to three hours minimum for any meal but after two hours we were ready to head home. The food is served in courses. They are very serious about this. Half the ordering time is discussing order in which the food will be served. You always have to ask for your bill. They would think it would be an insult to bring someone’s bill before they asked.

It was raining as we left the Cantina. Our drive is only two miles from town. We pass under the railroad bridge at the half way point. The road is straight except where a little church was in the way so they just put up a guard rail and there is a slight bend in the road.

The temperature was mild so we left the bedroom window open. About 3:00 AM I find myself awake listening to the rain and wondering what the hell are we doing, moving to a foreign country and struggling with the language. The gremlins really do live at night, you know. I hear faint sounds of the train heading north. They usually never blow their whistle but maybe it was the rain that inspired them. I remember a record from the ’70s named, “One Stormy Night” that had a rainstorm with the sound of a European train whistle in the distance. I used to wonder where it was going. Now I knew. It was going to Florence, Milan, Lucerne and Paris or maybe to Venice, Vienna and Berlin.

As I’m making coffee in the morning I notice that the rain has stopped and the sun is shining. I take my coffee out onto the terrace that faces the town with the lake behind it. The fish are swimming in the pond, the birds are singing and Maria is whistling as she walks along the edge of the field picking mushrooms and fresh herbs for their breakfast. Feels like home.