Vinci, Italy

We drove to Vinci, dropping in at the Museo della Leonardo da Vinci to check their hours of operation. The people of Vinci were the friendliest of any place we went in Italy--almost too friendly. From the lady at the souvenir shop outside the Vinci museum who gave us a hotel recommendation (which we ended up not using), to the women at the Hotel Gina, who were so friendly, we didn't get the full details for our room. We arrived in Vinci before the museum closed, but Jill wanted to wait until the next day to visit it so she wouldn't be rushed. Instead we went into the gift shop and encountered the afore-mentioned shopkeeper, an effusive woman for whom Glen only had to nod his head occasionally and say "si" for her to continue a stream of fast Italian that he could only catch enough of to follow the general drift. After ten minutes, she decided that Glen needed to put more input in than a simple yes, so she called to another clerk who spoke some English to continue the conversation. By the time we left, we had a hotel recommendation, a book on Leonardo's machines ("because the museum's signs are not very good"), and a tired ear. Instead of going with the hotel recommendation, an agroturisimo about 5 km north of town, we went with the cheaper in-town option, the Hotel Gina. When we got there, the effusiveness got us again--Glen had been asking for "un camera matrimoniale" and had been given to understanding that the price quote was per room not per person, unless otherwise stated. We readily agreed to the price of 50,000 lira, but were greeted in the next morning with a bill of 100,000 lira. This should probably be written as a rule of travel--take the time to fully understand important conversations.

Not having wised up from his earlier conversation with the souvenir shopkeeper, Glen asked these women for a restaurant recommendation for the night. This was greeted by an effusive and energetic, if concerned response, that ended up with them obtaining reservations for us at what must have been the fanciest place in town (Il Limonaia). Part of this was due to the 8th of March being the "Festa Della Donna," or Women's Day, upon which all of the women seemed to be out dining. At the restaurant, we were greeted with a special set menu for the night that we figured contained "exotic" specialities for this area--fish in many different forms. The meal, as always, was excellent, and the set menu gave us an opportunity to try several things that we hadn't gotten before. Because we were able to select off the list, we skipped the secondo and saved ourselves some money at the same time. Even then, it was plenty of food. Everything was great (a little pricey) with the best deal being the wine of the house (On the bottle of Leonardo Chianti, 1994, Cantine Leonardo da Vinci, the vino della casa: "...et pero credo che molta felicite sia agli homini che nascon o dove si trovano i vini buoni." -Leonardo da Vinci, a rough translation would be "It is true that I believe that the happiest men are those born where the wine is good.") and costing about $6. Given that each antipasto was about $10, the wine was the cheapest and best thing on the menu.

The Museo Leonardo, dedicated to its most famous inhabitant, was not an art museum, but one dedicated to the science of Leonardo by having "working" models of his machines. It was in an old castle in the center of town and contained models of machines he designed, including pulleys and clocks that make work more efficient, his bike, his "automobile" and his flying machine. A page from Leonardo's notes that describes each machine is on display (a copy of the original). It was very nicely done and a pleasant morning. We also drove through a huge grove of olive trees to Leonardo's birthplace, a free museum with some posted information on his life. Overall, Vinci was the friendliest town, clean, nice, and grateful to its most famous citizen.

We picnicked in the parking lot of the Cantine Leonardo (the winery), sampled their wines, and bought three bottles. Several people pulled up with large plastic containers which they filled with wine, presumably for "vino della casa."