After getting out of the Rome mess that extended for 100km out of the city, the scenery got dramatically better. So many unmarked intersections and maze-like country roads had us constantly lost and headed towards Rome, as every road sign told us (if only I could find an appropriate cliché).

Riding into Northern Lazio and Southern Tuscany was like stumbling onto a vein of gold that will eventually lead us to the mother lode: Florence. We’re currently situated in its medieval rival, Siena, that has more archways, bell towers, and churches than, say, Seattle. This is postcard Italy, and until reaching Siena, we’ve been enjoying small villages untouched by the crowds. We’re even a little surprised we have these medieval villages to ourselves, with open piazzas, pedestrian walkways (free even of motorscooters), fountains, and I even saw a car getting a parking ticket, something that didn’t seem to exist in the chaos south of here. There are many more public parks and public benches in these small towns and along country roads. Such a simple thing: a place to sit when you don’t want to buy something, and enjoy the scenery. Their absence for the better part of our trip has been driving me crazy.

One of the towns we spent some time (sitting for free) was Viterbo, where the Popes resided for a short time during the middle ages. We got a private tour of the papal quarters where a conclave took place for three years. The cardinals ate, drank and be’d merry and sponged off Viterbo until the locals finally sent them and the papacy back to Rome.

The Romans claimed that the demi-god Hercules lived in Viterbo, but the Romans copied everything from the Greeks — art, architecture, religion — evidently changing the stories of the latter to fit their needs.

Another unpretentious village was Capodimonte, built on the shore of Lake Bolsegna, a lake in the crater of a long-extinct volcano. We went swimming on its volcanic-black beaches before riding around the rim of the crater the next day, with views of wheat fields, vineyards and pines.

As popular as Tuscany is in the minds of tourists, the roads we’ve found are empty of cars and have fabulous riding, as good as anywhere on our trip. While some days have as much climbing as the Peloponnese (1500m or more), the grades aren’t as fierce and the descents are like roller coasters, with just enough momentum to get you over the next hill if you’re brave enough not to apply the brakes. Pitigliano was one great looking village built on a big rock that popped out around a corner at the end of a long descent. And there are hill towns like Monalcino that were built long after Pax Romano ended, and the villages moved from valleys to hilltops for better protection.

The heatwave that we experienced the first 10 days in Italy has also disappeared and we’ve had a few days of thunderstorms with passing showers which have dropped the temperature from 35-38 to 30C (95-100 to 80F). While I had convinced myself that I’d adapted perfectly to riding in the heat, I suddenly found a lot more energy when the temperature became bearable.

Susana is holding up well as our account supervisor, dealing with tourist offices, campground officials, asks for directions 12 times per day and demands the correct change from vendors when we’re about to be ripped off.

And the bikes haven’t complained at all, just needing some oil on the chain and air in the tires every few days. The tires have passed 2000 kilometers without a flat despite much abuse. Even when riding through dog poop and then immediately over a cactus, they kept me from a stinky flat repair. We’d like our good luck to continue.

With Portugal out of the running on questionable terms, we’re left rooting for our hosts, the Italians, against those undeserving French in the World Cup final. Until we reach France.