Some days are more emotional than others.

Today we went to one of my favorite little hill towns, Montechiello. It is picture perfect: tiny with no cars on the six or seven streets all enclosed inside the walls of the city and immaculately cared for by the town residents. Each doorway is emblazoned with pots of red geraniums and other plants to create a miniature garden for each entry.

In this little picture of Tuscany idealized we read of an incident in the town in 1944. The Germans, fighting rebels in the area, were told by a local citizen, a Nazi sympathizer, that the resistance leaders were in the town. The Germans occupied the town and lined the entire populace against the front wall of the city for execution. Only the pleadings of the German wife of a farmer and the town priest saved the townsfolk from certain death. I could not walk past any of the residents over my age without thinking about it. The plaque memorializing the incident and small metal artwork at the spot at the wall is understated yet dramatic.

Tonight we went to dinner at a restaurant that was recommended to us by our neighbors. I had issues there unfortunately. We had reservation but after we were seated another couple (locals) wanted our table. As tourists we were dispatched to another table near the bar. That is ok but not cool. The menu was in unintelligible, hand written Italian script, making it nearly impossible to read. We know the words for food and we know the dishes but this menu made no sense. When the waitress came over to take our order we didn’t have a clue. She said she needed the menus for other tables so we must order now. We still had no clue what was on the menu. Ann asked her to tell us what was written. A more condescending, surly Italian woman I have never met (Ok, I have). She quickly went through the menu and stood there tapping her pen on her tablet waiting for us to order so she could give the menus to another table (Perhaps printing more menus would be beneficial?). I had had enough of the way she was treating Ann so I walked out with Ann following amid protests from the other “nice” waitress that we could order when we wished, no hurry. Too late.

We went to a nice mom and pop trattoria (Gino e Betti) down the street and had a wonderful meal much to our delight.

Lesson for Day 18: If you scratch the surface of an idyllic town, be prepared for what you might find.