In Stiava, a sleepy Tuscan village just inland from swanky Viareggio where the beautiful people promenade along the Pasajate, Huw's old friend Jonathan Martinelli and his family welcomed us into their homes and into their lives. The Martinellis have lived in Stiava for generations; you just need to visit the beautiful village cemetary to see all their names, to appreciate how ingrained in its history they are. It is testament to the strength of the community that Stiava's residents, young and old, visit the cemetary at least once a week, each to adorn their ancestors' graves with fresh flowers.
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Across the courtyard from Jonathan's back door, shaded by lemon trees and a continuous stream of washing on the line, lives his aunt Ivica. The backbone of the family, a real silver-haired twinky-eyed Italian mama. Nearing 90, she cycled everywhere until recently when her bad leg stopped her. She screams out the answers and screeches with laughter at TV gameshows. She wears a leopard print cardigan and hitched her skirt up well above her knees to climb the high step into our truck. She cooks like a goddess for the whole family, three meals a day plus mid-morning and afternoon snacks, most of which we were invited to share. She taught me how to cook 'scarpacchia', a sweet courgette pie, and doesn't speak a word of English. I wept when we said goodbye as her total selflessness, wisdom and eternal youth reminded me so much of my precious Grandma all those miles away.
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Upstairs from Ivica lives her son-in-law, Gianfranco. Patient, charming, intelligent,sharp witted: a real gentleman. His spritely seven year old, Lara, I adored from the moment we met. Point a camera in her general direction and she strikes a pose. Sound familiar? She adores gelato, but only if it's chocolate or creme. On our two late night trips to the best gelateria in town (called Lola: another of life's smiling synchronicities) we danced in the back of the car to Thriller and Billie Jean. She sang every word even though she had no idea what they meant. Her gymnastics medals and trophies are lined up proudly on Ivica's shelf. She hates maths but loves Hello Kitty and her new sparkly trainers, and she dances and twirls wherever she goes.
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In the next village lives Ivica's son (Jonathan's cousin) Lorenzo and his girlfriend Ladi, pronounced 'lady'. Lorenzo lives far from his mother in Italian terms: I can't remember the statistic (was it 67%?) but a staggering number of men still live at home, surgically attached to the apron strings, the washing machine still a thing of mystery. Lorenzo managed to break free and having lived in the UK and Spain for a while, now lives the Life of Riley playing cards and sipping strong coffee in the local bar. Incidentally they serve frothy white hot chocolate in there. I have never tasted anything so delicious in all my life.
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And Jonathan himself is a bit of a god; he won't mind me telling you that. And I say that even though he insisted on playing 'my song' on loop - a cover by the brilliant bluegrass group Hayseed Dixie. Check them out if you have a moment. Here's an excerpt:
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Never had a woman, never had a woman like you
Doin' all the things, doin' all the things you do
Ain't no fairy story, ain't no skin and bone
But you give it all you got, weighing in at 19 stone -
You're a whole lotta woman... you're a whole lotta woman... you're a whole lotta Rosie!
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Because of his enthusiasm, energy and patience we finally managed to get done almost all of those niggling jobs Huw and I had been procrastinating over. He made sure that in between working hard, he took us to see Pisa, Lucca, Collodi, San Gimignano, Florence and Siena, not to mention the glorious Tuscan countryside. He is charming, funny and intelligent, looks far better in the flesh than in photos, and he'll be back in the UK next week - ladies - anyone interested?!
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In Stiava we also met friends, friends of friends, extended family and those that were as good as. Rinaldo who sang pitch perfect opera full belt to his tame white dove, Serafino, while his wife lamented in perfect English that that damn bird 'sheets all over her keetchen'. Ladi's twin sister Eddi, ex-glamour model turned biologist and her 'man friend' Nicola, the first professional archer we'd ever met. Bruno, the ex-boxing champ who lit up the village with his grin. Delightful Danilo. Mamo and his 12mm drill that saved our table. 'Pipo' and Emilio... Good times. Grazie mille tutti for showing us such extraordinary kindness and giving us not just a spare room but a home in Stiava.
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