Our tour of the Umbrian countryside just ended.  Now, Anne and I are sitting in our room just east of the main palazzo in Todi, Italy. The two of us are relaxed and having a glass wine. I have glass of local sangiovese and Anne a glass of grechetto.  We started the tour here today just after our breakfast.  Well truthfully, just after another due capuccini standing at the bar steps from here. What's interesting about today’s tour is that we drove ourselves. Not just on the autostrada but back roads too.     We did it all with the help of a GPS unit.

 It all seemed too simple. We have one in the Prius back home and have never really put it through the paces.  I've driven here on many trips prior and I mostly stayed to the main roads or mostly felt lost.  I, like many men, consider myself a competent and "good" driver. Driving has never really been the problem... The problem is navigation, like many men.  I remember one trip almost to the point of "wacking" my back seat passengers, for talking too much, while trying to navigate to our hotel in the Alps. In hindsight, that was a reasonably easy destination.   Today's navigation however, was beyond complex. "Roger", the voice on our GPS unit, faltered only once when the road near the station in some puny town near Assisi was under construction and closed. Roger "the dependable" recovered quickly and re-routed us to our destination so fast that I never had the chance to feel lost. Thank you Roger.

 I knew at the beginning that I had chosen an ambitious itinerary for the day. From here to Deruta, a town known for lovely ceramics, which I had never heard of, but Anne had planned on finding a deal on the plate of a lifetime.  A short giro and 60 euro later (with no special plate) we were back on the road to Perugia. Arriving just prior to noon the commune of Perugia was a fire with traffic. Again, driving was fine but the navigation was better. We found ourselves and our mini-cooper in the middle of a huge chocolate festival that we had no idea was happening.   There we were on a Wednesday stumbling into a continent wide chocolate festival.  There were samples and demonstrations.  We found chocolate hot and chocolate in large bricks. Tools made from chocolate that were dusted with cocoa to look rusty and even a chocolate climbing wall with a line of eager climbers and belay rope men to ease you down if you over do it.  And to add a special feel to the already atmosphere viscous streets, someone on the chocolate festival planning committee decided to pipe in music. The selection was the sound track from the 70's Willy Wonka movie.  What could be more appropriate or fun?  From Perugia, we left our parking garage and immediately had Roger giving us the way.  "In 200 meters enter the roundabout take the 2nd exit then bear right".  As if that was too much direction at one time, we would hear "take the 2nd exit" as we entered said roundabout and we'd hear "bear right" as we left it.   Some how with all this direction giving from Roger, I only felt more relaxed and never less "manly".

I emailed a friend back home who struggles with a wife for a GPS.  "Steve, next time you are over here you need to get one of these. I only wish they made these for the bedroom."  To me everything in Italy exudes romance and love.  I can only imagine my bedroom GPS.  It would need to have a feminine voice with the same UK accent.  She would direct  "In ten minutes say "I love you"” followed by “mind your speed and go straight on" and finally “you have reached your destination” as if I didn’t already know. Surely, an Italian would never need such a thing. Oh, how I digress.

By the time we arrived in Assisi I was starved and suffering a bit from Perugia's chocolate-sugar high.   We toured the San Francesco Basilica with my mind more on my stomach than on the incredible frescos overhead.  Assisi is a lovely town that has sustained its economy for the last 600 years with Christian tourism. There were lots of little shops selling knick-knacks that I might have found at my grandmothers house. Aside from that, it is largely a town free from cars. We walked until we found a small pastry shop that had panini too and we order ours "da asporto", To go.  We found a curb with a view and ate.  I found a resurgence in my failing spirits, all from a few bites and a view.  

Last night in the hotel we discussed our route. Did we want to see Perugia and head east or west? Was there time to go to Lago Trasimeno and drive counter clockwise to Orvieto? Or did we want a route that had less stradi and more viccoli?  By punching in various towns and routes we could determine times between each and total route driving time.  We chose a tighter and smaller loop. Planning with the help of a paper map (aka manual GPS) that we obtained free from the tourist information office we could see that there we're many small roads lined in green denoting routes with beautiful views or tourist significance.  Being tourists we felt we made the prudent choice and later confirmed this with the glass of wine in my hand now.

From Assisi we really ventured from the beaten path. A short hop on the autostada and a warning from Roger that I was exceeding the speed limit and a that traffic camera was ahead in 500meters (thanks again Roger) we slowed our pace to pass through Foligno on our way to Montefalco, a wine town.  The roads were a drivers delight.  Twisty and curvy climbs led to wide-open ridge top vistas of vineyards and mysterious hill towns. We stopped to admire and photograph what our eyes found almost too beautiful.  Ahead we found Montefalco quiet and peaceful with its town square devoid of traffic and other tourists.  We stopped for our requisite coffee at the bar.  The light outside was so sharp and the clouds showed the first hint of yellow that indicated autumn and announced the coming of evening. 

We chose our next town with no prior knowledge and more for the location along the green route than for the interesting name, “Bastardo”.  We didn’t stop as we were having just too much fun driving and did not want to meet the town’s namesake so we continued on through to Vietri. Vietri, is just blip on the map, with roads barely paved and with locals who stared as we drove by because we might have been the first non-local car to pass through since June and that was entertainment.  We smiled and waved and our gestures were reciprocated but with a look of “who was that?”  I didn’t much need Roger just then as all the signs from there forward pointed the way back to Todi.  I am glad he was there just to confirm that I was heading in the right direction.