Falling In Love With Certaldo

The countryside of Certaldo, located in the providence of Tuscany

Overlooking Certaldo Basso

Standing atop the tall tower in Certaldo Basso. An old man yelled at me in Italian about 5 minutes later. Ooops

I couldn’t resist

As I stepped onto the roof of the tower, I was more out of breath by the view than the 100 or so steps I climbed to see it. Every direction was a new landscape. Hills were decorated with castles towering over the terrain, green fields speckled with trees collided with small towns, and houses were stacked on top of houses and colorful gardens covered the roofs of many homes. Everything was overset by an orange glow from the sun’s yellow rays bouncing off the red buildings.

I could not believe that although I spent the last couple of weeks living in Certaldo, I had neglected to climb the tower of Casa del Boccaccio, which was in the middle of the main street of Certaldo Alto, via Boccaccio. The tower was a part of the home of Giovanni Boccaccio, a famous medieval writer who greeted his life and said his last farewell to life in Certaldo. After his death, the town turned his house into a museum to keep the 14th century’s literary artist’s history alive.

From the top of this 700-year-old tower, I could see all the surrounding towns, Even towns that were hours away from reaching stood tall in the distance, proud to be a part of the marvel.

Although I was standing atop what seemed to be the highest place in all of Certaldo, I still was not satisfied. There had to be a way to get higher; I had to see more of the land. My sense of adventure had completely taken over, leaving my practicality and common sense cowering in the corner.

Putting both hands on the wall atop the tower, I thrust my body upward until I was high enough to get my legs over the brick. Trusting my body not to hurl me over the edge, I swung my legs around until they were dangling over Certaldo. Satisfaction spread through my body like a chill, happy to still be sitting on the tower and not tumbling down the building.

I sat, soaking up the sensation for a few moments until my common sense came out of hiding and suggested I hop down to a safer platform before something bad happens. However, before giving in, my curiosity had one more plea.

I wanted to stand on the wall. Slowly lifting my body, I put each foot flat and delicately on the brick surface. Standing was going to be the tricky part, especially with the wind whipping around as harshly as it was.

Playing with my luck, I knew that my chances were as only good as a flip of a coin. I would either succeed and adopt a sense of accomplishment, or I would fail and experience unyielding pain and an unforgiving sense of stupidity.

Taking a deep breath, I convinced myself to toss my fear over the edge and take a chance.
And that’s when it happened; I fell. In love, that is.

I fell in love with the landscape, with the town, with the experience.
I fell in love with the Tuscan country side.