Author: Francis Mays, American poet, writer and professor at San Francisco State University. 1990, she came to Tuscany, an ancient Italian town.

1996, published under the Tuscan sun. This article is selected from this book, inadvertently leading a cross-century "slow life" fashion. 1999, beautiful Tuscany continued the meaning of "slow life" and lived a transparent and simple life for ten years.

"Now, we have a deeper understanding of its surroundings, and we are more and more deeply aware that there is something in the blood of Italians that makes us outsiders jealous: they know the art of life and really know how to live carefree, which may be inherited from Etruscans."

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We packed our bags and went to Talamon, a seaside town with towering walls, which smells like Etruscan monuments and has endless aftertaste.

The water here is pure and clear. We found a rather modern hotel to stay in.

There is no beach around the hotel, only a few abrupt rocks, and guests can sunbathe in chairs on the concrete balcony.

One of the reasons why we chose Talamone is that it is close to Malema Beach Reserve, and it is the only beach in Tuscany that has not been damaged by the wave of economic development.

Most beaches in Italy are covered with umbrellas and benches, leaving only a thin beach for people to walk on. There are even bathrooms, changing rooms and snack bars on the beach. Italians seem to feel comfortable on the beach. Hey? What about leeches? What about cadmium diarrhea, shredded bamboo shoots and Guangdong milk? /p & gt；

They often go to the seaside with their families or friends.

I, an American from California, don't like the feeling of being crowded in the crowd. Growing up on the coast of Georgia, I also liked the cool sea breeze with sandy smell, but the beaches of the old world made it difficult for me to adapt.

Eddie and my daughter loved those big parasols, and dragged me to Villarreal Gui in Tuscany, Pisa Beach and Santa Claus in Piater, insisting that those places were unique and must be visited.

02

I like to listen to the sound of the waves, lie on the beach, or take a walk in a deserted place, but the beaches in Tuscany are as crowded as busy streets.

However, my guidebook says that the beach reserve in Malema is very different, and you can even see wild horses, foxes, wild boar and deer there. I like the smell of Machiavelli very much.

Machiavelli is a wild shrub that grows by the sea. According to sailors, the fragrance of Machiavelli trees was first reported when the mainland was still out of reach.

The beach in the reserve is empty, only wild rosemary and marine lavender are sparsely dotted among them. We stayed on the beach all morning, sitting and walking.

The ancient sea seems to be telling the ancient Etruscan history. We brought a bacon sausage sandwich, a large piece of parmesan cheese and iced tea.

Except for three or five people on the beach, I almost realized the feeling of being integrated with nature.

What color is the water? Is it cobalt blue? No, it should be sky blue, like the color of the clothes on the Virgin in many oil paintings, except that the sky blue is decorated with silver waves.

We have been driving around these days, and now we can take a walk. It's really a great enjoyment! I want to read by the sea, but the sun is too dazzling. Maybe I need a big parasol, too

03

In the morning, we came to Liva, which is called "Etruscan coast". Once here, we don't want to leave.

Although there are beach chairs for rent on this beach, there are not many tourists because it is close to the beach reserve, so we took a nap in a farmhouse hotel and then went for a long walk on the beach.

It is not far from Calvino and San Vicenzo summer resorts. Shops in the town sell rubber beach balls, rubber boats and sand buckets.

In the evening, people come to the street, buy postcards and eat ice cream. The seaside town is a seaside town after all, and you can smell the ocean everywhere.

We found an open-air restaurant and ordered a stewed fish soup. The waiter brought a dining car with several different fish fillets on it.

He put the fish fillets one by one into a big white bowl, and then poured hot broth on them. Then, spread garlic baked with cream on the toast.

We put bread on the fish soup to make it absorb the rich fish flavor. In the bowl, two crayfish glared at us fiercely.

The waiter comes to add soup from time to time so that the bread won't sink to the bottom of the soup.

When the salad is delivered, there are at least twenty kinds of olive oil on the dining car, some in transparent bottles and some in painted pottery jars.

We asked the waiter to help us choose one, so he picked up a bottle of light green olive oil and poured it on the red and green chicory from mid-air.

04

On the way to Mariti, we made a detour to Bologna. Because these two places are very close, it would be a pity not to go to such an ancient town!

Whenever I take a quick look at these flowers, I have a desire to stay for a few more days. When we stopped at a coffee shop, we saw two fishermen walk into the shop with a whole bucket of fresh fish that they had just caught last night.

An old woman walked out of the kitchen and wrote down the menu of the day on the blackboard. Unfortunately, it's not lunchtime yet. After a short stay, we will drive.

The car came to town and stopped in front of a huge castle.

This is another Etruscan museum. I have to go in and have a good look. Eddie lost interest in anything a thousand years ago and went to buy Machiavelli honey alone.

In the shop where we agreed to meet, there was an Etruscan artwork for sale, which was a ceramic foot. As we are not sure whether this is true or not, we decided to take a walk in the street first, and then make plans.

But when we got home, the shop door was closed and we had to leave angrily.

Passing a signpost, it points to an Etruscan site. When Eddie saw it, he didn't stop, but stepped on the gas pedal and drove away, as if he had just escaped from an ancient tomb.

I have never been able to pronounce the name of this ancient town clearly. Now I realize that Mariti Ma's stress should be on the second syllable, not the third syllable.

After staying in Italy for so long, I still make such basic pronunciation mistakes. Can I learn Italian?

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Maritima used to be close to the sea, but then the sea gradually receded, surrounded by a large area of silt, and finally became an inland town.

Now, it is built on a high grassland, which makes people feel like they are in a remote town in Brazil favored by magical realist novelists. To be exact, Maritima is two towns: a new city and an old city.

But the two cities are equally solemn, with dark projections of buildings and sudden and fierce sunshine everywhere.

We were a little tired, so we found a hotel to rest. This is the only hotel with TV along the way.

When we checked in, there was a World War II movie on TV, which was a little faded. The actors all spoke Italian with strange pronunciation.

In the film, a village is occupied by Germans, and an American soldier hiding in the suburbs wants to help the villagers escape from the clutches of the Germans.

The villagers put all the supplies on the backs of several donkeys and started their escape journey. As for where they fled, I don't know.

I fell asleep in a daze and dreamed that someone was smashing the window of Bama Sulu. I was awakened. While the film was still on, another soldier was hiding in the haystack in the barn, and something was burning around him.

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But I'm not in the mood for movies. I'm worried about Bama Sulu: Is she okay? After a while, I really woke up and realized that I was in Mali, not America.

It only took us two hours to walk every street in Mariti. This place always reminds me of the American West.

For example, those remote towns 50 miles away from the expressway, for example, those small shopkeepers who like to look at the vast sky through their windows.

Of course, there are no such squares and magnificent cathedrals in the western United States. These two places are only similar in spirit: the loneliness that arises spontaneously, and the way local people look at foreigners.

On the way home, we stopped at San Gagano. There is a beautiful ruins, an elegant French Gothic church.

The floor and roof of the church disappeared centuries ago, leaving only window frames open to white clouds and green grass. It is a good choice to hold a romantic wedding here.

The originally rosy windows are now filled with bright red or blue by your rich imagination; The altar where monks used to light candles is now a bird's nest.

There is a stone staircase, but I can't see where it leads. Another stone altar still exists, but it is different from the common altar in Christian churches and more like a sacrifice to the living.

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At that time, in order to finance the war, an abbot removed the thin lead plate from the roof and sold it. A good church became a pile of ruins and became a shelter for more than a dozen wild cats.

The white cat mother gave birth to many kittens, but each kitten's coat color is different: black, brown, tiger skin and soft fur. Presumably, the kittens' fathers are different.

Finally home! We dragged several cases of wine into the house, opened all the windows and quickly watered the listless plants.

After this work is finished, we will put the wine in a crate and put it in the stairwell. These wines are already ripe, just waiting for the festive holiday to come and show off.

Eddie closed the cupboard door in the stairwell and left the fragrant wine for dust and scorpions. We've only been away for a week. I didn't expect to miss it so much.

Now, we have a deeper understanding of its surroundings, and we are more and more deeply aware that there is something in the blood of Italians that makes us outsiders jealous: they know the art of life and really know how to live carefree, perhaps inherited from Etruscans.

It seems that the murals of each ancient tomb contain certain meanings, but we can't interpret them for the time being.

I closed my eyes and saw crouching tiger, hidden leopard, exquisite portraits of the dead and countless feasts.

09

From time to time, I can see the characters in Greek mythology: Persephone, Pluto's wife, Ackert Weng, a young hunter, and PaGasos Pagasos, his hound.

But my intuition tells me that both the images in ancient tombs and the characters in Greek mythology should have an older source, and there is another source on top of this older source.

The original prototype will appear repeatedly in history, and we can feel something more or less because they talk to the oldest neurons and nerve tendons in our body.

I used to live in a18th century house in Samos, new york, next to a big garden full of herbs.

I often dream about it now. I often dig brown or amber bottles in the garden. Once, I dug up soil beside the garden to plant sacred flax, which was often spread on the floor of medieval churches to absorb people's sweat and body odor.

Unexpectedly, a rusty little iron horse was dug out, and the little iron horse was stretched and ready to go.

I put it on my desk as my totem. Early this summer, when I was digging stones in Russell, Bama, I accidentally dug up a gadget. I picked it up and saw another galloping horse.

Is it an Etruscan handicraft or a small toy from a hundred years ago?

10

When I read Virgil's Aeneas a few years ago, it was mentioned that some vagrants dug up an ominous token and decided to build Carthage on that land.

The head of a brave horse symbolizes.

Our race will be invincible in the war,

And will have a colorful life.

I am not interested in the war mentioned in the book, but the words "colorful life" deeply touched me.

Hero Orlando's war horse stepped out of the hot spring, and two flying horses dug out of the rubble and dust in Taconia often jumped out of sight.

I put a postcard with a picture of a flying horse on my desk to accompany the two horses I dug up.

Yes, a colorful life, just like the Etruscan life, we once had it in a certain time and space.

At this moment, even if we can't fly, we will fly to "colorful life".

-Recommended Beauty-

Mace: The sunshine in Tuscany will drive you crazy if you miss it.

Mo Bosang: God created the moonlit night because of love.

Wang Zengqi: It takes a year to grow grapes slowly.

Sanmao: You turned me down and hurt my self-esteem.

Bode: Esther Park, a place that doesn't belong to this world.

-The information on the paper-

Actually, traveling, whether traveling or not, is just a way of life. It is fundamental to feel the natural and cultural scenery in other places and gain more knowledge.

When you are not willful enough to leave, you might as well look at the words and photos left by those travelers first and get to know what the distance is like.

Here, there are several travelers who read while walking, like hunters, finding classic travel notes from the page forest and presenting them to you.

Seeing the scenery on paper is also a long journey.