Wine Trains Are Overrated

Location:
Italy

bike, Tuscany, wine

By Suzanne Russo

The lady at the tourist office grimaced. There were no wine trains. “Bikes?” I ventured. She nodded curtly and suggested San Gimignano—it was the least hilly…

San Gimignano is dominated by fourteen ancient towers. Remnants of long ago glory, these medieval skyscrapers are all that remain of the original seventy-two. When in the twelfth century the town was divided by a feud, each side building watchtowers. Symbols of power, they mounted higher and higher with each successive tower.

Their story is familiar: the race for the tallest building as proof of supremacy. Yet there is something wholly unfamiliar about them. Still mighty despite age, they loom over the city, keepers of its extant feudal atmosphere, reminders of how much—and how little—has changed.

The town itself was quaint. A gray-headed lady sweeping her doorstep grinned as we passed and children laughed in the square. The bike rental cashier urged us to be careful and pointed out the correct road. Coasting downhill with the breeze in my face was exhilarating. Olive trees along the roadside opened onto endless rows of grapevines, which rolled down luxurious hills and wound back up to meet the horizon.

The “winery” consisted of a small sign in a driveway. Following the narrow path, we arrived in a backyard, anchored on either side by sprawling rows of grapevines. At one end was a small garage with a child’s tricycle haphazardly parked nearby and a plastic table underneath a small arbor, oddly pretty in its crumbling state.

A sprightly man in dusty jeans and a threadbare t-shirt beckoned us inside, where there was a makeshift workshop and tasting room. He introduced himself as Mariano, and let us taste his wine and olive oil. He spoke no English, but with my poor Italian and a lot of gestures, we managed to purchase a bottle of wine and negotiate the use of his arbor for lunch.

We sat, almost in the grape fields themselves, eating salami and sipping wine that he had made. Mariano joined us and shared wine, laughs and language blunders. After a bottle of wine and hugs all around, we remounted our bikes, bleary-eyed from wine and in awe of our surreal experience.

We were struggling our way up the hills down which we had triumphantly soared when a shiny BMW slowed to a stop. Mariano, freshly shaven and dressed in a pristine suit, got out and offered us a ride. We were thrilled, but because of the bikes we had to continue our trek uphill the hard way…

Later on, sweaty, exhausted and giddy, we ate gelato in the square. A charming man in a suit smiled and winked before ducking into a store, and as I waved back at my new friend in a strange city, I was infinitely thankful that there had been no wine trains running.

Further Information

Travel tips: If you are biking, be sure to plan enough time to get down to wineries and back up the hill.

Must see/do at this place: Wander through the town. Take a trip into the hills to explore the scenery and taste wine.