We Meet A Nice Single (Rich) Italian Woman

The bus, the bus!!! We actually rode a bus yesterday from Lecce to Ostuni (don't worry, more bicycling later on). It was Sunday so everything was quiet and peaceful.

Ostuni is a walled, whitewashed, hillside town that looks down on the Adriatic. This place looks more like picture postcards of Greece or the medinas of Morocco than an Italian city.

Our guide for a walking tour of Ostuni was a lovely young woman, Paola. (A few surprises about her later on.) We visited a convent of cloistered nuns and Caren bought some holy medallions to send to Carol Hallock. I bet the nuns aren't watching the NFL on their big screen plasma TV today. Walking the cobblestone streets of Ostuni is for mountain goats, not Americans in their biking clothes.

We turned a corner and there they were - our trusty steeds all tuned up for another day of bicycling. We said goodbye to Paolo (or so we thought) and started our ride - straight uphill into the countryside. Caren decided to ride the van, but Jordan made it all the way to Villa Massari.

What a place! This is a huge family farm estate - and there is Paola! It has belonged to her family since the 12th century. We toured the grounds, including her father's extensive collection of antique carriages, and then had a bountiful picnic (with lots more wine). Everyone in our group with an unmarried son asks Paola for her phone number to try and play cupid. Fortunately, for Paola, she has a boy friend in Rome.

Then came the real excitement - Caren got LOST. We rode back down the hill towards Ostuni and then thru the coastal country towards Masseria San Domenico, our final hotel on the tour (more about it in another posting).

Jordan stopped to take a picture for Al D'Amico (see photo) to show him his Italian relatives' business empire, and Caren sped off with another woman, not to be seen for the next three hours. No cell phone, no trip notes, no money, no idea where they were..... Where they went wrong, no one knows. Finally, after Jordan's cell phone calls to our tour leaders and the support van retracing the bicycle route, there they were - only 15 kilometers from the hotel. SO what happens next - Francesco cleans off Caren's hands (because they were covered with grease when she had to fix her bicycle chain) and tells them to pedal on. I think she learned a lesson.