April 18
Chiusi - Perugia (Really this time)

When we got back to the villa, it was still raining and the temp had dropped to about 4-degress Celsius, which if you multiply by 9/5 and add 32, means we could see our breath inside the little cottage. So it was straight to bed, pile on the blankets, good night.

Next morning in the shower I practiced the same phrase over and over. "Voglio camprere alcuna rose, per favore. Venti rosso e diece bianco. Trenta in tooto." Which means, "I want to buy some roses. Twenty red and ten white. Thirty in all."

If you know Kathy and me at all, you know that I always buy her one rose for every year we've been married, on (or slightly before) our wedding anniversary, no matter where in the world we find ourselves. After thirty years now, it takes some advanced planning to pull this off.

We drove into Chiusi because I had spotted a florist the first day out. It was a Monday, which means all the museums and historical sites were closed. When we arrived at our customary parking spot but the train station, it was already taken, along with every other parking place in town, most of the sidewalks, the alleys, and every other conceivable place to leave a car. It was market day in Chiusi! Who knew?

We parked the car a mile out of town and raced back to the huge outdoor market on foot. There were people selling every imaginable commodity, including sweatshirts (we bought two), gifts (we bought several), cheese (we bought a mozzarella bufela), produce (we bought some fresh basil and four beautiful tomatoes), even women's panties (none of your business).

But more important, there were three or four vendors selling gorgeous, fresh-cut flowers. With hundreds of Italians milling about and speaking quickly, I forgot my rehearsed speech. I pointed to a bunch of twenty white roses, and another of twenty red ones, held out of bunch of Euros in both hands, and let the vendor decide how much to take. If you're keeping count, that's ten white roses too many, but we were so happy we practically skipped back to the car. My plan was to toss the excess diece rose bianco in the dumpstero, because Kathy is very particular about exact numbers on anniversary day. Luckily, she had a much better idea about how to dispose of the extra roses. She presented them as a gift to MiMa, our host at La Boncia, who was so appreciative she reciprocated later that evening by giving us a bottle of their own red wine, made from grapes grown on the estate. It was delicious.

The sun was out again at noon, so we sat in the flower garden and lunched on sliced tomatoes topped with buffalo mozzarella, fresh basil, and olive oil. Then we hopped in the station wagon to make another attempt to find Perugia in Umbria. This time, we dove straight to it. By always choosing the uphill turn, we even managed to arrive at our intended destination where we parallel parked on a tiny lane just a half block from the church of St. Dominica. We spent a couple hours exploring the medieval gardens and the gilded interior of the cathedral itself, then strolled back down the incredibly narrow streets ending up at the Piazza IV Novembre where we sat at an outdoor cafe, drank a beer and shared a panino (sandwich).

It was almost eight o'clock when we arrived back in Chiusi. All the stores and shops close at eight here, and we were out of wine! We stopped at one store in Chiusi where they were just closing up. I squeezed in through a crack in the door just in time and finally got to use my Italian. "Vino!" I said. "Une rosso e une bianco!" Whew, that was a close one.