There are several ways to blend in with the locals in Italy and simultaneously
max out your cool points. Even if you don’t speak a word of Italian, buying
a copy of La Gazzetta dello Sportwill imbue you with instant street cred for
just one euro. Tuck its pink pages under your arm as you grab your morning
cornetto and caffè – always consumed standing up at the bar – while
sunglasses tilt at a jaunty angle on top of your head, whatever the weather.
As for getting from A to B, it has to be a Vespa, the waspish scooter that
transports everyone from local priests to flirting teens and shopping-laden
grannies. And now, holidaymakers.
Brett Naisby, a Canadian, has been based in Tuscany for enough years to know
just about everyone in the small town of Gaiole-in-Chianti, and to speak
Italian as much with his hands as his voice. He has offered walking and
cycling tours for more than a decade, but has recently started three-night
tours around the hills of Chianti on his fleet of seven red Vespas. They are
aimed at weekending Brits who want to indulge La Dolce Vitafantasies with
the support and back up needed for scooter virgins on the “wrong” side of
the road.
This time, however, I was the token Englishman as we – three Australian women,
one from Canada and another from California – cautiously got to know our
lipstick-red machines in a car park, just down the road from Gaiole’s small,
pretty piazza.
Everyone, including me, seemed rather nervous, despite the fact that the 125cc
engine versions we were to drive are easy to operate and below the limit
that requires a motorbike licence in Italy. My worries stemmed from the fact
that the last time I was on something similar, 17 years ago in Indonesia, I
drove straight into a wall in front of an entire village who just about died
laughing. A bruised coccyx, a very bruised ego.
But now, there were no gears, just a push-button start, a throttle and front
and back brakes. In fact, the hardest part seemed to be lugging it off its
stand and then remembering to turn the indicator lights off after turning.
After about half an hour we were pootling – some more gingerly than others –
along quiet country lanes in formation towards the hilltop village of
Barbischio, Papa Naisby leading the way. I was aware, over my shoulder, that
I was delaying a small car behind me as we headed towards the village of
Castagnoli. As we passed pine trees and vineyards, I expected a scowl from
the driver, but as the small Renault overtook, a pretty young woman smiled
and waved as she pulled away.
Over the weekend, Italian drivers proved a pleasant surprise, never turning
into their supposed Formula One-wannabe stereotypes, although some made
generous use of both sides of the roads on corners.
That evening, feeling visibly more relaxed, we dined just outside Gaiole on
the terrace of a small restaurant called Le Contrade, although two of the
group had minor prangs getting up the gravel track. Just as well, with the
red wine flowing, that we left the scooters where they were and walked back
to our hotel, the quaint La Fonte del Cieco, up some stairs and tucked away
in a corner of the town square.
On a typical day we would speed off (well, 25mph) after breakfast, stopping
for a cappuccino in a village such as Lecchi, where the locals would gather
round, pointing at the Vespas, recalling, I surmised, memories of way back
when. (“Sophia! Phew! 1967, I think? What a summer!”) We buzzed through
woods, by cypress trees, along fields of vines and olives, up and down hills
of which sweaty, Lycra-clad cyclists seemed to be making heavy weather, to
towns such as Radda. There we would explore the rambling lanes and
invariably find our way to an ice-cream shop, before heading out again for
lunch. Near Brolio castle, for example, at Il Carlino d’Oro, we had a
simple, delicious meal of salad, tagliatelli with mushrooms, pana cotta,
coffee and a glass of wine for £10 each.
A bargain – and we were the only tourists there. This is part of Naisby’s
plan, sharing his favourite spots after 13 years in the area. We headed back
to Gaiole in no particular hurry, having taken a stroll around the castle’s
ramparts, and enjoyed some wine tasting on La Fonte’s terrace before dinner
in the piazza.
Towards the end of the weekend two of the Aussies dropped out, preferring to
go walking instead. “Perhaps I’m a slow learner,” said Karina Devine, “but I
really wanted some more time to practise before we set out. If I went back,
I’d walk rather than ride – being on the Vespas is a solitary way to tour.
Having said that, I still consider these four days in Tuscany to be a
highlight of my trip.”
Our dwindling group set off towards Siena under increasingly threatening
skies. We cruised along the top of the Crete Senese, the area where the
woods of Chianti give way to more rounded, clay hills, with large, open
wheat fields that spread down over the horizon. In the small town of Asciano
we stopped to observe a wedding before entering Siena, which seemed even
more full of character (and empty of tourists) under a leaden sky that
eventually spilt its rain just as we reached the Piazza del Campo.
On the way out of town we encountered our only really busy stretch of road of
the whole weekend, which was unnerving given the traffic-free routes we had
taken so far. Our arrival coincided with a traffic-surge caused by the end
of a local football match. In trying to turn right from a side street,
Elizabeth Brooks, our companion from California, tweaked her throttle a
little too vigorously and almost skidded under the front wheels of a moving
van, which screeched to a halt inches from where she lay.
“No experience necessary is one thing,” said Elizabeth, looking back and
nursing a spiral fracture of her right ankle, “but leading people through
rush-hour traffic wasn’t wise. Despite that, the weekend was fun. I loved
the patterns of the rolling fields in all shades of golds and tender greens,
outlined by the dark, green rows of cypress trees.”
Naisby has added extra information to the Scooterbella website setting out who
he thinks the trip will and – perhaps more importantly – won’t appeal to.
“We have found that most people who are over 45 and who have never ridden a
scooter or motorbike have problems riding the Vespa,” he says. “If you have
not used the ‘motorbike’ part of your brain before the age of 45, then it
may be too late to learn – we just want everyone to have a happy and safe
holiday.” Despite the Siena hiccup, I enjoyed myself enormously, whizzing
from one glorious, calorie-laden blowout to the next. I’m not sure anyone
ever mistook me for a real Italian, despite my best efforts on my lean,
mean, little red pulling machine. If I can just master a few more hand
gestures and groom the chest hair, though, I could be in with a shot.
Need to know
Scooterbella (01622 775222, www.scooterbella.com)
offers three-night trips from £970pp from July to October. This includes use
of the scooter, guiding, B&B stays, evening meals, and transfers from
Montevarchi, but not flights.
EasyJet (0905 8210905 – calls cost 65p a minute, www.easyjet.com)
flies from Gatwick and Bristol to Pisa from £43 return. Make sure your
insurance covers you for riding a scooter. Helmets are compulsory and are
provided by Scooterbella.
