The last day of our Italian holiday in August, and Husband had planned a packed day. (Which meant we all had to pack our suitcases late at night, ready for an early departure, but we won’t talk about that.) Our first stop was to The Garden of Ninfa, in Cisterna di Latina, about an hour’s drive from the villa.

We have all suffered from mosquito bites, and a garden sounded particularly insecty, so I dressed in clothes that covered me from head to feet. It wasn’t a good look (and the lovely thing with family, is they give honest feedback) but I felt safe. It was hot though, especially as the weather was in the low 30s.

The garden is named after the Roman water nymphs, and was built on the site of a medieval city. It’s described as ‘the most romantic garden in the world’ and it might be, at the right time. However, it is only possible to view it in a tour group, and it’s very hard to feel romantic when herded from place to place by a tour-guide. It was a very prescribed tour. No wandering off, no touching, no feeling the magic.

The ruins of the city had been left, and the garden planted around the crumbling walls and ruined towers. It was pretty. But the overriding impression was of standing for long periods while the guide told us information that we didn’t want to know, and waiting while the stragglers in the party finished taking their photos, and being very hot. There was shade, but not quite enough for a party of 30 people.

Then came the rather embarrassing mistake. We were standing in a loose huddle around our guide while she told us the name of plants, and when they had been planted, and one person (not me) decided to have a drink from their water bottle. They stood, in the ‘most beautiful garden in the world,’ enjoying the shade, looking at the green leaves and pools of water, while unscrewing the bottle top. And then, horror! The bottle top slipped from their sweaty fingers, bounced once on the pretty cobbled path, and plopped into the little stream. Lots of eye-contact between the family. The lid floated down the stream, passed the carefully planted greenery. There was no way to retrieve it without being reprimanded by the guide and trampling on the delicate foliage. The bottle top floated, over a tiny viaduct, and out of sight.

We lurked at the back of the group when they moved on, but the bottle top had gone. We continued with the tour. This would have been bad, and we would have felt guilty, but it got a whole lot worse.

We rounded a corner, past another crumbling wall (a man was told off for leaning against it) and towards a forest of bamboo, when the guide stopped next to a pool. This pool, she told us, was one of the most pure water pools in the world. The streams we had passed were all from fresh springs, and the water had been channelled to this pool. The water was clear, and there were black trout, an indicator species as they can only survive in completely pure water. Everyone was very impressed, except for my family, who were all waiting for a blue plastic bottle top to come floating round the corner. We didn’t see it, and are hoping the special black trout didn’t eat it.

We left the gardens, thinking they would be so much easier to enjoy if we had been allowed some freedom (and had left the sweaty-fingered person at home). The garden is surrounded by mountains, which produce a microclimate, and we drove up, in search of lunch. We ate in a restaurant overlooking the hills, and it was very beautiful. I chose platters of cheese and bread. It was spoilt slightly by the staff, who served all the Italians before us (even though we had arrived first) and who even at one point walked round us to hand an invoice to the man standing behind us when we queued to pay. But the view was great.

We then went to a small vineyard, and had a tour, followed by wine tasting. The tour was much the same as every tour of a winery—lots of wonderful-smelling vats of things, and huge barrels in a dark basement, and information about adding 4 grams of sugar for one kind of wine and 6 grams of sugar for another. I’m not really sure why we need this information as we don’t plan to start our own vineyard, and it doesn’t much matter to me whether or not yeast has been added to the wine I am drinking. But other people were more interested.

The wine tasting was excellent. We were also given plates of local produce, which turned out to be platters of cheese, so rather a repeat of my lunch. But I enjoyed it a second time. The wine (Cantina Marco Carpineti) was okay—but had lots of tannins (which I don’t especially like, I prefer a ‘soft’ wine like Malbec). It was a lovely end to the day.

The following morning we left the house at 7am (with slight headaches) and caught a flight home. Thank you for sharing our trip to Italy. My main tips are: try to visit Rome when it’s cooler (so NOT in August) and take care when opening a water bottle in a beautiful garden. Oh, and take lots of insect repellent.

Hope you feel prepared for whatever you have planned this week. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
love, Anne x

anneethompson.com
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