Le Marche

“The mountains are calling and I must go”

- John Muir

Our car was stuffed.

In addition to the bicycle strapped to the back of the car, Jeff managed to put two of our bigger suitcases onto the roof with a makeshift combination of non-slip pads and wide belts woven through the interior and back out again. Combine these appendages with all the dirt, dents and scrapes on the car, and we looked like the Beverly Hillbillies.

After spending one night in Cagliari, we dropped off my friend Nyeema at the airport for her early flight to Barcelona the next morning. Nyeema came to visit during our last few days in Carloforte, and we had a good time showing off “our island”.
We drove to the northeast corner of Sardinia, bound for Olbia, and our ferry back to mainland Italy. We rolled into Olbia in the mid-afternoon, purchased our ferry tickets for departure the following morning, and checked into a nice little hotel in the centro. My guidebook described the town as “not a pretty place” with “precious little to visit” so our expectations were low, but as we strolled the rabbit warren of tiny streets, we found Olbia to be a pleasant pedestrian-friendly town. I’m beginning to think the writer of my guidebook was in a bad mood when he visited Italy. He’s such a sourpuss.
The next morning, we got up, packed the car, and queued up for the ferry in record time. Jenna was crazy with excitement, literally climbing out the car window when she saw the ferry approach. It was one of the BIG ferries, like the one we took from mainland Italy (Savona) to Corsica: a cruise-ship-type with 6 decks, private cabins, restaurants, game room, gift shop and pool.
It took 5 hours on the “high speed” ferry to reach Civitavecchia, a city northwest of Rome. It was our first time off an island in 3 months! We hit the ground running, somehow managing to remain both calm and alert while navigating our way out of the city and onto the right roads. We didn’t argue once.
Heading east, we blasted across central Italy. Gone were the palm trees, cactus and bougainvillea, we were suddenly immersed in whole different world--pastoral splendor, lush-green rolling countryside, quaint-looking hilltowns and cypress trees! We passed under the huge A1 autostrada (freeway) that runs north to Florence, south to Rome, and looked eastward toward the immense mountain range in front of us. The mighty Apennines run north to south, and span an area over 800 miles long. The western slopes are gradual, but the eastern side (sloping down toward the Adriatic) is steep.
We drove through Umbria, past ancient city walls, huge arched Roman aquaducts, and pointy church towers surrounded by clusters of old stone houses in shades of blonde and brown.
After a quick stop at Jenna’s favorite roadside establishment, “Autogrill”, for road food (peanuts, fig bars, water, coke), we began to wind up and through the foothills of the Apennines, all of us wearing our respective IPODs—Jeff listening to the Grateful Dead, Jenna listening to the Jonas Brothers and the Glee soundtrack, and me listening to podcasts of This American Life, Savage Love and My Daily Phrase Italian. Up and down the twisty roads, occasionally we’d drive right through the middle of a sleepy village, the ancient stone buildings so close to the road that our car practically brushed the doorsteps and windows
The sun was almost setting as we approached Sarnano, the closest town to our destination, and the landscape was a mix of farmland and forest, lush green hills with a backdrop of orange-red sunset colors. Fields of spent corn stalks and sunflowers, Queen Anne’s Lace, nettles and flax. The forest areas were thick with ferns, moss, ivy, and the occasional wild pink cyclamen.
We drove up a steep gravel road to our new home for a few weeks: Casa Carotondo. It sat perched atop a small hill, amidst gorgeous rolling countryside.
The villa was beautiful, a traditional 2-story stone farmhouse with tile roof, surrounded by lovingly maintained gardens. This was going to be a good caretaking job.
The owners, Vanessa and Rob were friendly and welcoming, and even made us dinner that first night. They’re from London and bought the house 6 years ago, and have been slowly (and very tastefully) renovating it themselves, preserving its original form. Vanessa and Rob live on the upper floor, and there are 2 apartments (and more to come) on the ground floor.
Our two charges, dogs Chico and Lulu, took to us immediately, wagging their tails and licking our hands (and Jenna’s face). Lulu is an Australian shepherd—she’s small and sensitive, loyal and obedient. Chico is large and shaggy—he has 3 legs and a tendency to slip past the gate and run with reckless abandon through the surrounding fields.
Vanessa and Rob then showed us our lovely apartment…high, wood-beamed ceilings, tile floors, 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a large kitchen with modern conveniences, dining room, living room with fireplace and television that has channels in English—everything spanking new, since the apartments have only been finished for a year. The patio in front has a large outdoor dining table and a view of the manicured gardens and the mountains beyond.
We made a mental note to do a LOT more caretaking in the future.
The next day Rob drove us around for a tour of the area. Sarnano, about 5 miles away, was holding its weekly market, so we stocked up on cheese and salami and other staples. We bought some of the local “porchetta” a deliciously salty, fatty, herb-filled pork delicacy, and discovered a new fruit that looks like a lime but with orange-colored, sweet/sour insides. It’s delicious in our Campari drinks. Jenna especially loves Sarnano’s fresh milk “dispenser”, like a soda pop vending machine that squirts out fresh milk into glass bottles.
We spent the next few days adapting to the climate (now we were wearing sweaters and socks) and the environment (swatting flies, bees, gnats and scorpions). Jeff went on epic bike rides and sometimes Jenna and I drove to meet him in charming, nearby towns, but other times we spent the day with “homeschool” and books and movies. One time went to the nearby “terme” (hotsprings) to “take in the waters”.
We took the dogs out for walks along the country roads every day, often by a pasture full of sheep and springy little baby lambs. The hiking trails through the forest in this area are lovely, but since cinghiale (boar) season has started (!), we were warned to steer clear of the nearby woods. It’s also the season for funghi (mushrooms) and truffles, and we often see cars parked along the nearby roads, people walking around carrying baskets.

We went on day trips—once to Ascoli Piceno, a handsome town set in a valley surrounded by mountains, with a beautiful piazza. And one day we drove to Ancona, on the Adriatic coast, to visit Jeff’s friend Dan Roth. Dan showed us the sights--the market, the duomo, the piazzas and views of the busy sea port, and then we all languished over a deliciously long lunch at a fine local restaurant. And one day, we drove to Urbino, visited the grand Ducal Palace and then strolled up the steep, narrow streets to the fortress on the hill, where there was a view over the town, and we laid down and rested on the grass.

Le Marche is illusive, a region hard to describe because it is such a mix. Sometimes it feels like Oregon with its green dampness and tendency to rain; sometimes like Piedmonte or Chianti with its rolling farmland and vineyards and bugs; sometimes like the alps, with its mountain grandeur and quaint Swiss-style villages; and sometimes like Tuscany with its stone farmhouses, hilltowns and walls.

If all things happen for a reason (and they do), then maybe the reason we’ve found ourselves here in Le Marche, at this point in our lives, is to reflect on where we’ve been and what resonates with us (hilltowns) and what doesn’t (rain) and where we want to go from here.

NEXT UP: Roma in a day