ITALY TRIP – Just the Ticket

Monteriggioni was the ideal bite-size Tuscan outing for Nigel, Pascoe and I - a small village contained within a large fortress.  We would get a ticket to walk along the top of the walls.

We calculated that for Nigel and I the ticket price would total eight euros.  We had Pascoe with us too, student card in hand.  But we couldn't tell if there would be a discount.

But in the end we were charged only 7 euros and 50 cents for all of us.

I wondered whether it was because any parents in charge of a student were assumed to need all the help they could get, financial and otherwise.

This ticket would also get us into the nearby Museum of Weaponry.

I confess that I find the topic of mediaeval weaponry seductive.  The splendid and recondite vocabulary attracts me - bombard, arquebus, enfilading ricochets.  However, I will not give in to temptation.  There are other things I need to know about more.

Also included in the ticket price was the monastery at the Abbadia Isola.  Google told us of an ancient Romanesque monastery, whose purpose had been to shelter pilgrims on their way to Rome.

After walking the walls, we drove there and entered the ancient church.

Blocking the back of the church was a wrought iron banister. Next to a gap in the barrier was a very old man.

I presented him with the Monteriggioni ticket.

He pondered it for a long time, turned it over to look at the blank reverse, shook his head and finally muttered something in Italian which sounded …sad.

Frenzied sideways glances between the three of us communicated that we realised this man was not the ticket guy.  Only thing was, he seemed not to concur and continued to grip our ticket and regard it searchingly.  The moment drew out so long that it felt like an entire performance of Waiting for Godot.

Finally, Nigel reached over and firmly reclaimed the ticket. "Grazzie" we chorused and smiled in what we hoped was a reassuring manner, but probably just looked manic.

It was only as we were leaving the monastery that we noticed, in a corner of the courtyard, a small sign to an exhibition about the area's Etruscan past.  I climbed a tight staircase and discovered that it opened out into a large, well-displayed gallery.  This was where our ticket was called for.

The exhibition was fascinating, and whereas I have resisted the arquebus, I am definitely charmed by the Etruscans.