Basically he adds an “o” to the end of the last word of each command.

“Go up the rampo!”

“Now turn lefto.”

“Wrong way stupido!”

It felt very authentic at the time. Looking at right now in print, not so mucho.

Anyway, I get this bur up my butt to get off the main road and head into some small town, any small town, up in the hills. I repeatedly mutter to Andy I want to get off the freeway every time we pass an off-ramp. Andy says nothing because he’s learned over the years that 99.9 percent of my ideas are bad. So he doesn’t want to encourage me… or discourage me. I think he just wants me to shut up and drive.

About 2/3 of the way to Florence I stop at a gas station for some coffee and purchase a map of the region. As I gulp my espresso I draw on all the Italian Andy just taught me and say to the guy next to me, “Uhscooza, me Americano. Please point on mappo where we are-o.” If I were him I would have burst out laughing. But he nods politely and points to a spot on the map.

Based on this crude GPS I make my plan to get off the freeway at the next exit and head west.

We go a couple of miles and wind our way up a mountain following signs for Monte San Savino (pronounced Mon-tay Sahn Suh-veen-no). We found it at the very top. It’s charming at first take. Picturesque old stone walls jutting out all over. Narrow spiraling roads leading to a central green surrounded by sidewalk cafes and a giant monument shooting skyward in the middle. It had real old-world charm.

We parked and I hopped out of the car and strolled past the shops and cafes lining the green. Andy was fiddling around with the gear in the back of our family wagon. I walk around the corner and out of Andy’s sight. I looked to my left and down the hill and then turn around and looked behind the row of shops fronting the green. I almost jumped out of my skin. That green with the monument wasn’t the center of town. The center of town was behind that façade of shops through 1000-year-old stone gate with 30-feet high x 20-feet wide ancient wooden doors. I stood there with my jaw open staring through the gate up a narrow stone roadway lined by ancient buildings, as far as my eye could see.

The monstrous wooden doors to the city were open and I touched one to make sure this was real. It seriously looked so perfect it could have been a set from Disney World. Only these were actual 1000-year-old buildings. Well some were older and some were only 500 to 700-years-old but when everything you’re looking at pre-dates Columbus sailing the ocean blue, you sort of lump it all in together as really, reeeeeeally old.

I was giddy and I skipped back to the car to get Andy. I said, “Let’s go over here… you’re going to like this.” So I grabbed the tripod and Andy followed me with his camera in hand. When we turned the corner I pointed and Andy stood there with his mouth wide open silently mouthing the word “Wow!”

Andy starts shooting pictures and instantly an old man with a cane, wrapped in a long green wool coat hobbles over to me and says with a big smile, “Buon giorno!” I immediately pinch him to see if he’s real. (Dear God how Walt Disney has screwed up my life… and I never knew.)

His name is Peter and he speaks absolutely no English but we end up laughing and having a great “chat”… without understanding a word each other said.

I find this true over and over again everywhere we go. One of these journals I’ll tell you about all my Italian family over here. Yes my last name is Redding but my mother’s last name was Mattiuzzo and her mother was a Gionco. The Gionco's are many in the Torino area. We had lunch and I met 35 family members at once. It was so fun I cried. I cannot tell you how beautiful Italians are in their souls. They are not bothered in the least by cultural or language differences. They are only happy to connect with you in any way possible… even if it’s through a few gestures and a laugh.

Monte San Savino is a perfect slice of Italian history. It was built on a hilltop and surrounded by an enormous stone wall. Italy was not unified until the 1860s. Before that towns and villages would war against one another to gain regional dominance.

History in Italy is awe-striking. I spent several months reading up on it and of course studied the architecture for years long before I got into TV (I was an architectural designer for some time in a previous life) but nothing can prepare you for standing here staring at real-life history.

My neighborhood is about 6-years-old. Monte San Savino’s stone roads were hewn and laid in place about 600 AD. They’ll need to repave the roads in my neighborhood in a couple years. They will never replace the roads in Monte San Savino.

If you want to see and hear the good people of Monte San Savino, please tune into this Friday Night’s Ozone show for the TV version at 7:30.

Ciao!