Certaldo Alto: Tuscan Treats in a Mediaeval Town

Modern Italians show off their wealth with Ferraris; mediaeval Italians demonstrated it through the height of their towers. And these towers can still be seen, in greater or lesser numbers, all over Tuscany where remarkably preserved mediaeval towns sit proudly perched on hilltops. And why hilltop? Well, these were troubled times. Like some mediaeval Lord Voldemort, the region's mighty and powerful harboured ideas of taking everything around for themselves. Settling yourself on a hilltop meant you could see your enemies coming and defend your patch more easily once the baddies arrived. Not all the mediaeval towns still have their towers because if, despite your strategic position, you were still conquered, the first thing the victors did was knock down your towers – the ultimate act of humiliation and symbolic castration. So perfectly preserved are some of these towns that even those of us severely imagination-challenged can't fail to walk them without absolutely knowing how Romeo's contemporaries felt as they wandered their hometown streets.

Stunning Siena, gorgeous little San Gimignano complete with its 14 towers, exquisite Volterra, charming Cortona – the list goes on and on. Right up there with the best is Certaldo Alto - 'alto' meaning high and used to differentiate the mediaeval walled town from the busy, modern part of Certaldo which lies below and in which I am currently living. Certaldo Alto, birthplace and resting place of 14th century Renaissance poet Boccaccio, has become my place of retreat; an instant battery charger for those times when the computer screen in front of me starts to blur and my writing flow hits an impassable wall. It is possible to grab a ride up to the summit with a cable railway ride but I prefer to huff and puff the almost impossible gradient of the narrow cobbled street. This way the transition from 21st century to times long past takes a gentler form.

In the beginning it took me until at least half way through my first coffee to start unwinding – now, no sooner do I step inside the ancient walls which surround the town like a protective hug then the tranquillising effect is complete. Strong enough, in fact, to brazenly order a cappuccino after midday – something tantamount to a criminal act in Italy. My favourite haunts, mostly situated along the Via Boccaccio and the little tucked away shady courtyards that meander off from this central hub, all know by now that I am English; a fact which gives me a get-out-of-jail-free card so my order is greeted with a smile rather than a shudder of horror. 

I never tire of wandering these streets even though I now know what is around every corner. I know where the old, old man sits outside his house, still... for hours – dreaming, smiling at passers-by, occasionally drowsing in the sun. I know where I can get the finest bruschette. I know the expensive restaurants where the wealthy Americans disappear into cool, dark interiors. I know where I can pause beneath the towering walls of the Palazzo Pretorio to trace out the shapes of lions in the peeling paint of the faded frescos. I know a bench, perfect for daydreaming, which no one else ever uses and where the view outlines the 14 towers of San Gimignano perfectly against a blue blue Tuscan sky.

Certaldo Alto oozes history. Art enthusiasts come here to study the still bright 15th century frescoes inside the church and the palace; the devout come to gaze upon the 13th century crucifix in the Augustinian convent; culture vultures visit the specialised library in the museum which was once Boccaccio's house or wander the prisons and 'room of sentences' of the palace. I am not a complete heathen so I too have visited these places but for me Certaldo Alto is about food and simply sitting. Tuscan summer evenings and autumn lunchtimes are just made for al fresco food experiences, which suit me, just fine.

There is a time and place for everything. If I want to simply take a coffee, escape the heat of the day and watch folk wander up and down the Via Boccaccio I visit the Bar Boccaccio with its shady little nook, picturesque well and resident cat, making one cappuccino last an hour.... or three – nobody cares. Slow, slow is the order of the day here.

If lunchtime looms I wander along the Via Boccaccio to check if the Casa Tua have set up any tables in the street today. If so I'll plonk myself down at one and gorge myself silly on crostini with chicken liver pate – a Tuscan classic – maybe with a half bottle of the region's Chianti if I know I can siesta later. Or maybe I'll sit in the sun on the elevated but tiny terrace of the Osteria da Chichibio and take a mixed antipasti plate. There are times when all I want is an ice cream, which may sound simple in theory. Not so, once you are standing in front of a chiller housing a zillion flavours ALL of which look equally appealing. After dark I usually come back to the Casa Tua. It is cosy inside here at night and you are allowed to write on the walls. Something, which so many people have thought, was a good idea that adding your own message is now only possible if you are either very tall or happy to climb on a chair.

Ice cream, coffee or crostini finished – there always comes a point where I must make my way home. As I head down the hill the mediaeval town falls further and further behind me until I emerge, once again, back into the 21st century, with its street lights, traffic, neon and noise. Luckily, they have coffee down here too.

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