By JOHN CARTER

Friendly faces: John Carter meets the locals friend in Florence


My friends Tony and Graham are responsible for what happened to me in Tuscany.

They had led me to believe our trip would be a walk in the park and, although I admit the word 'park' may not have been used, they spoke of easy strolls in gently undulating countryside, and held out the prospect of good food and wine and the opportunity to improve my (practically nonexistent) cooking skills. I would also, they pointed out, have the benefit of their company.

The good food and wine were there, as were the cooking lessons and pleasurable company. But when it came to the walking ingredient, they seriously misled me.

I should have known what I was in for at Gatwick, where I was overtaken by determined ladies with capable shoes and serious rucksacks bearing Ramblers' Worldwide Holidays labels.

They - and we three - were part of a 20-strong group heading, via Pisa, for the town of San Marcello Pistoiese, where the Hotel Giardini would be our base.
It was clear my fellow travellers took walking far more seriously than I. But there was no backing out.

Clive, the leader, a fathom of wiry enthusiasm, set the mood as well as the pace at the first briefing meeting. For me, however, the walking was not the main attraction. Which was just as well, in light of the terrain.

San Marcello is well over 2,000ft above sea level in the foothills of the Apennines - where slopes are steep and unforgiving. This is not 'Chiantishire' Tuscany with gentle meadows and promising vineyards but a region of deep valleys and thick woods.

A region where ancient trails and mule tracks wind up and down among the aspens, birches and pines, alongside foaming rivers you've never heard of, across the moss-covered stones of medieval bridges and the slippery wooden planks of more recent and less steady structures.

From the hotel balcony I could appreciate the beauty, listening to the calming coos of pigeons and watching squealing flocks of house martins. But mule tracks and steep slopes are no place for an overweight and out-of-condition old hack. I tried it, and I know.


Great shot: The centre of Pistoia, home of the pistol


The cookery lessons were quite another story. These were overseen by Cinzia Bonacchi who, with husband Rudy, owns and runs the Hotel Giardini. She is a gem who does not claim to be a professional chef and admits to never having studied at a cookery school. But her grandmother and mother handed down their skills and recipes, and the result is that even the greatest duffer (guess who?) can benefit.

We spent three afternoons under her benevolent supervision, preparing dishes and learning the tricks of the trade. As a result, I can now make a tiramisu, having previously been unable to spell it.

I can also produce a sensational jugged wild boar and, though the basic ingredient is not found in my local supermarket, I figure I can always obtain a piece of placid pork and goad it into a fury.

As well as Tony and Graham, the company was excellent. Among the jolly group were five ladies from a singles club in Bromley, a quartet of Canadians and a couple of Scots.

It took hardly any time to bond. Which is just as well, for without the 'Bromlettes' that tiramisu could have been a failure. And had Fiona (not from Bromley) been unable to lend a hand jugging the boar, it would not have won the praise of fellow diners.

Having one's efforts served up in the evening was the best part, the hotel staff bearing in the dishes with cries of 'from the Cooking School'. After which, everybody was a critic. If I have any criticism of the food, it is that we were offered far too much and had the greatest difficulty resisting.

The hotel is a very fine example of a small, family-run establishment in which one feels instantly at home. It's a five minute stroll from the centre of San Marcello, where there are small restaurants and coffee shops.

We took a bus to Pistoia, which boasts a 12th Century cathedral, medieval architecture, museums and a lot of history. Its craftsmen used to make daggers but, as technology advanced, took to making small guns - which were, like the daggers before them, called 'pistols'.



Town and country: Beyond the Pistoia district, the Tuscan countryside beckons


As part of the holiday, you get a full-day excursion to Florence. We joined the crowds to admire the Duomo, then went to the Piazza della Signoria, the Uffizi Gallery and the Ponte Vecchio.

Florence did not disappoint, though I found it far more crowded than I recall from previous visits. The painters and caricaturists were, as always, out in force outside the Uffizi, and the 'living statues' most impressive. They are now as much a part of Florence as Brunelleschi's Dome or Michelangelo's David.

For the first time I noticed a crop of rather tiny policewomen. However, in a city that prides itself on its high style and fashion, these ladies seemed to be in urgent need of a makeover. Those I spotted had lank hair and chipped nail varnish and wore shapeless and ill-fitting uniforms. The guns at their hips are simply too large to be taken seriously.

Somebody could do Florence a favour by smartening them up, putting them into more attractive uniforms - and doing the same for their male colleagues.

En route to Pisa and our flight home, we stopped in the city of Lucca. A gem of a place, too easily overlooked. The crowds were promenading in the piazzas and there was a busy open-air market.

With the sightseeing and the cookery, the excellent company and the comfortable hotel,I had a splendid time. With hindsight, even the walking wasn't too bad.


Travel Facts
Ramblers Worldwide Holidays (01707 33 11 33, www.ramblersholidays.co.uk) offers an eight-day Tuscan Lifestyle holiday from £629. This includes return flights, transfers, half-board accommodation, cookery classes and the services of a dedicated tour leader.


source: dailymail