| Their shocked faces faded from the rearview mirror in a cloud of choking dust and flying gravel. We were alone again. Visions of a flat tire, a dead cell phone and an Italian vocabulary limited to "buon giorno" and "vino bianco" (at least we wouldn't die of thirst) crept into our minds. Daydreaming definitely has its price and Harry and I were paying. Humming "I'm Just Wild About Harry" instead of paying attention to the map led to a major navigational meltdown. Was the black truffle crostini and the "peppery with a hint of plum" pinot noir in Montepulciano to blame? When that crooked white signpost with a faded town name caught my eye, this navigator was back in control (or so I thought). "Turn left NOW!" Startled out of his own daydreaming, Harry quickly shifted gears; burned a little rubber; and hooked a sharp hairpin left. Suddenly the navy blue sports car began bouncing along a rocky rural lane kicking up white limestone dust. It momentarily engulfed us like a snowstorm of talcum powder. Our eyes nervously darted back and forth searching for signs of civilization across the endless landscape. Row after row of leafy grapevines, full of ripe fruit, surrounded us in all directions. In a dusty blur we blew past the old winegrower and his young helper, catching sight of them only as their heads popped into view. Camouflaged by vines, they were stooping over snipping purple bunches of grapes, plopping them in baskets at their feet. Maybe we weren't hopelessly lost in Italy after all. However, it was certainly not prudent to stop and ask those two after nearly sideswiping them (and possibly crushing the fruits of their labor). We forged bravely ahead. Less than a kilometer later the car fishtailed briefly as the tires unexpectedly hit pavement. Harry slowed to a crawl and the dust settled. Just beginning to breathe easier, our breath was taken away as we rounded a bend in the road. Gently hanging on a hillside above the vineyards, a small village stood enclosed by ramparts. We approached the medieval archway and ambled warily into Monticchiello. Two crusty village elders didn't blink an eye as they sat perched on the steps of a local trattoria, smoking cigarettes in silence. I guess the winegrower hadn't gotten word to them of the invasion of the "crazy Americans". Wandering through the hilly, cobbled streets, we snapped pictures of windowsills and doorways overflowing with mossy pots of red, purple and white flowers. Ancient, quirky architectural details adorned slate-grey stone buildings. No barking dogs noisily announced us or sniffed territorially at our heels. Not even one curious face peeked from behind lacey curtains. A solitary lady carrying an armload of fresh flowers into Monticchiello's 13 th century church only briefly disturbed the stillness. Savoring these quiet moments as you would a vintage wine, we sipped slowly, absorbing each unique scent and flavor. But, like the last drop of wine trickling over the tongue, the fading sunlight signaled the ending of a delicious adventure. Strolling reluctantly downhill, we were tempted to join the locals on the terrace of the Ristorante La Porta atop the medieval walls. Holding full glasses of Brunello wine we could toast the discoveries of this unexpected detour. Then, as one final tribute, watch the Tuscan sun sink slowly behind the distant cypress trees – majestically rising up in the landscape like sentinels keeping watch over the vineyards. But instead, we quietly drifted toward the car, full of memories much richer than any wine. Bypassing the dusty vineyard lane, we headed down a narrow blacktop road, hoping to make another wrong turn. If You Go: Directions from A1: Ristorante La Porta A trattoria located just inside and to the left of the village gate with an outdoor terrace looking out over the light-dappled Tuscan Hills and vineyards. La Casa di Adelina For a front row seat on local flavor and a convenient base for exploring the surrounding area - taste the pecorino cheeses in Pienza and the wines of the Brunello di Montalcino wine region - consider staying at this small bed and breakfast located in the town square at 3 Piazza San Martino. Note: Some bathrooms are shared.
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