Column: to Rome on foot – part 19

Since a few days I have been in the region of Lazio (Latium). Sunday afternoon I crossed the border between Tuscany and Lazio and immediately the road surface got a lot worse. The towns here also look a lot less slick than in Tuscany. A lot of money from the region flows to the capital Rome, the residents here grumble.

But how much more authentic everything looks at the same time, much more Italian, because much less affected by tourism. I spoke to a Dutchman at the more from Bolsena. "What a world place here," I told him. "Yeah, huh," he said. This is Italy's best kept secret. Will you please tell no one else?'

So on Sunday afternoon I made my first kilometers in Lazio. After the descent of 900 meters from radicofani I walked in the campaign, it was sweltering hot, there were hardly any buildings and at one point I was sick of it. I shot into a restaurant that suddenly popped up on the side of the road. There I asked if there was no hotel nearby. The family who ran the place were very helpful. A phone call and I was able to report to a country house a few hundred meters back.

There I was met by a couple who had more of these houses and rented them out to tourists. For 25 euros I had the whole house to myself. It was nicely decorated and I tried to imagine what it would be like to actually live in such a house. That evening I rushed to the restaurant, because that was the only place where there was something going on. I ate there, chatted, admired the youngest of the family, a 2 week old baby that the daughter carried around all the time, and by the time it got dark I retired to my country house.

Sleepless nights

I didn't feel quite right anyway. Turned on all the lights so it looked very lived in. The front door could be locked, but my bedroom door could not. I was still asleep, but in the middle of the night a noise woke me up. It seemed as if the gate was opening. I got dressed. Went to look, nothing to see. Back in bed again, the house was full of noises, every time I thought someone was fumbling at the front door.

Not such a good idea after all, spending a night alone in the countryside. I really didn't want to think about living here. I got up at 5 o'clock. I didn't sleep a wink. Half an hour later I was again packed and packed with my sticks along the road. It was still nice and fresh, the rising sun gave the land a golden glow, it was still quiet but I didn't mind that now. Acquapendente was ten kilometers away.

I saw it looming from miles away, because of course it is on a hill. A picturesque town with church towers and houses at different heights. After slogging my way up, I decided to stay here right away.

I walked through the narrow streets into the center and came across a very nice square. Not spectacular, but still a bowl-shaped square surrounded by old palazzos, some freshly painted, some gray and paintless. I found a hotel in a side street and because I couldn't go to my room yet, I immediately went for a round of Acquapendente. I liked what I saw. Here you will still find a greengrocer and a baker, people are doing their shopping and the terrace of Bar Italia is already full of old men.

summer party

When I rolled into bed around XNUMX:XNUMX in the evening, the square a summer party. Until a quarter to one in the morning, a stirring South American music thundered through the city. But it wasn't because of this that I had another sleepless night. That was because of the hotel owner. I didn't think he was such a nice man. He had told me they were closed that night and I would be alone in the hotel.

But at night I woke up to hear someone sliding the chairs under my room in the restaurant. Later, the one came up the stairs and I heard him sneak past my room door, as my room was on a dead end in the hallway. I was nervous. Imagine if he knocked on the door. I lay in bed with bated breath. Fortunately nothing happened. I heard him in the building and at half past five I packed my things and walked into the hallway with my sticks. I didn't see anyone, but was quite relieved when I was outside.

On the square Bar Italia was already open, so I could relax there with coffee and a brioche. Then, in the fresh morning air, on the way to Bolsena. I had to go to San Lorenzo Nuovo first. I got there at 8 o'clock. San Lorenzo Nuovo was also on a hill. Here too I found a very nice town, bright pink and ocher houses around a wide square. The usual groups of people were already chatting here and there when I settled down on one of the terraces. I thought: if I ever live in Italy, I want to live in a town like San Lorenzo Nuovo. Unpretentious, nice people, a vibrant community.

Warm and pleasant Dutch people

When I left San Lorenzo, there suddenly lay Lake Bolsena in the plains. Bordered by pine trees, but otherwise with few buildings. I walked about 4 kilometers to the shore of the lake and there too lay a villa or a small farm here and there, but otherwise the coast was completely untouched. No apartments, just a campsite here and there. Before I knew it, I had already been walking for an hour and a half and I felt very tired. I just had to sit somewhere, but there was nothing to be found, and I just walked and I walked, Bolsena was still 7 kilometers away.

At a camping site I decided to go inside. There would be a bar there. It was a beautiful site, full of olive trees, bordering the lake. When I walked past the parking lot, I saw that there were almost only Dutch cars, with a German here and there in between. I walked onto the terrace of the camping bar and said 'Good morning!' in Dutch. Immediately a few people jumped up and asked me where I was from and if I wanted coffee. Well please.

I took a seat at a table somewhere and immediately burst into tears, simply from exhaustion. If there's one thing you can say about this trip, it's cost me a lot of sweat and tears. And oh, what a warm and pleasant people the Dutch suddenly turn out to be. I was offered coffee and chocolate rolls and was allowed to tell my story. After that I sat around the table with a few people for quite some time. How familiar it was.

Later in Bolsena it was also teeming with the Dutch. People from the campsites who do their shopping in Bolsena during the day and in the evening, who go out to eat or simply stroll through the village street. Incidentally, these Dutch people make a much more relaxed impression than the ones I saw in San Gimignano. Blessed and sun-soaked, they walk through the city with their children, it's just fun to watch them.

Pension Italy

Bolsena is a fantastically beautiful fortified town, with city gates and all, built against the mountain. It is not directly on the lake, but half a kilometer inland. I walked through the city gate, into the picturesque village street and only thought: how nice it is here! When I saw a sign with Pensione Italia I immediately went in there. On the top floor of a very old palazzo I found the guest house.

When you enter, the owner is sitting there in her living room with the door open, you can't escape her. She has surrounded herself with statues of the Virgin Mary from Lourdes, because they go there every year. According to her, all pilgrims come to sleep with her in the guest house. She had some creepy stories about 80-year-old pilgrims who shuffled in here totally exhausted and paid with sweat-soaked bills.

She is a woman who, if you are not careful, will put a huge burden on you. I already know all about her divorce and her children. Fortunately, she likes to sleep in and I was able to slip out of the house at a quarter past eight to have breakfast downstairs on the square.

Then I bought a ticket in the harbor for a cruise on the lake, with visits to Capodimonte and the island of Bisentino. On that island are seven chapels that represent the seven churches of Rome. Now the Catholic Church seems to expect a pilgrim to visit the 7 most important churches in Rome. But if you don't have the time or don't feel like it, you can also visit the 7 chapels of Bisentino, then that's fine too. A wonderfully Catholic solution!

Manfredic family

During the cruise I met the Manfredi family from Genoa, who, after exchanging a few words with them, incorporated me into their pack. I had to sit with them all the time and they invited me for lunch as well. It concerned father, mother, both elderly, and the daughter Maria-Theresa, who was about 47 years old. Maria-Theresa was an only daughter, unmarried and had worked for a lawyer in Genoa for 26 years. She loved her job very much.

At one point, when I asked if she lived independently, she told me that 10 years ago she had moved out of the house and bought an old fisherman's cottage in the port of Genoa. But, she said, she had taken her parents in a few years ago because they were getting so old, she thought they couldn't stay alone anymore. And now the three of them lived in a house with two rooms and a kitchen. It is of course very beautiful somewhere, but for us Dutch people, I think, also very oppressive. There is also such a thing as a middle ground.

After lunch I said goodbye to the Manfredi's. Tomorrow they will go by bus to Montefiascone and I will go there on foot. So maybe we'll meet again. I am now walking at a leisurely pace to Rome to avoid getting there before my friends, who are arriving on 13 August. So my 'entry' is on August 14. I'll keep you up to date!

To be continued…