The return to Chiusi by cab felt so different to the one leaving for Montepulciano 23 days before. My ability and confidence with my still very limited Italian seemed to reach new heights and chatting to the driver it didn't seem to matter that  making the  basic errors was such a big deal. There were fewer hesitations this time but  what the heck....people here are gracious and are delighted that 'gli stranieri' really want to be able to  connect....and having one's ego pampered by being told how magnificently you speak is a delight (even though it really isn't true). The challenge of return was to hold onto the very positive support that automatically came when people around could see that you took your studies and not yourself too seriously. Making mistakes are  necessary in order to do it right.
The train back to Rome was fairly full and a  guy around 25 yrs had no hesitation in helping me to board with my bags. lt was a still a struggle  and  a young woman went out of her way similarly to help. Getting off at the other end these two emerged again to help me. l loved them!!
Back home, with grey skies and life inside the M25 (that massive traffic jam that circumscibes London),my time in Montepulciano quickly started to fade. As much as l tried to bring it to life
 all l could manage were a series of faded descriptions....its buzz was virtually inaudible and l was starting to lose my sparkle.
It was great to be home but the journey felt that it had only started. Retiring is about looking after myself and maybe finally growing (up),in a way l had never done before. This has 'of necessity'  given what l am like, of   taking advantage of Bev's ? limitless patience, as well as enjoying  that same (almost) limitless generosity.
In this l hoped  l had  changed for the better and that maybe was now content when being alone as well as being at greater ease  in the company of others.
 lf anything it has helped to confirm that the growing together is ultimately more fun than growing separately, B U T  Y OU  NEED  BOTH if you are really greedy and want to have your cake AND eat it .

For the final 10 days of work and play there was an element of  'deja vue'.( Don't you just love how the French always seem to sneak in with a killer punch.)
With the newcomers to lntermediate ll the grammer was covered for the first time, but for Mr Old Hand it was a repeat, although it wasn't a bad thing in itself, it had lost the shine of its earlier curtain call when l started at the school. Tabu came and went but there was no fizz this time...perhaps this was because Daniel (Berne Switzerland) and l were surrounded by serious female students who didn't have an anarchistic gene between them...if only girls could see that if they could be boys some of the time too, classes could be a lot more fun. About this l have done a complete 'volte face' ( l know, and  l am truely ashamed of myself ) about learning styles. When l was a medical student l would always show my displeasure when  colleagues joked during seminars or group discussions. Yes, l was a really self important git ( something that comes within the trade description for most of my medical breatheren, especially those living in Sydney's Eastern Suburbs)....but now see that fun makes learning a real joy, something that 5 year old have taught me to appreciate. Anyway with the boo part missing from the Tabu, and no more stories to make up out of  strange sounds life became just a little too tame.
The meals at number 3 started at between 7 and 7.30 pm rather than 8, but with Giuseppe gone and Daniel , Pat (Halifax Nova Scotia) and l (all in lntermediate ll and with much less ltalian to do battle with ) meal times were different. They were tame too.Without those hollow legs of Giuseppe to fill to bursting with platters of food, and  wine fountains  to fill in the spaces left, Danilo looked crestfall. His head would shake gently as he intoned to the Madonna about the eating habits of  his last student cohort of the year. Inside his cardigan you could tell that a nuclear war of terrible proportions was taking place, and that there was no room for prisoners. 'C'est la vie'.
For me too there was a feeling of loss. Il Sasso had become a home of sorts and l felt it a privilege to be a student again. As always the teaching was well planned and professionally executed to the very last minute....there were no reprieves...and l knew l would miss the discipline that was integral to being a student. Still the days were passing and home was pulling me back...weakly at first like the pull of Earth's gravity on a distant object, but now my mind too was shifting backwards and forewards....l was inbetween and keen to be back home.
For 23 days from 5th October l had been a student . Now  my student days were over and there were a lot of ideas competing for space within my 'cardigan' . In my next post before l say '' a presto" l will share them with you.

As l walked back to the changing room it was time to reflect on Just Being.
I freely admit that l find it hard to relax.... Part of that is my inner angst which is about doing things  better next time, AND / OR  surviving all the threats in my immediate enviroment.
Being uber competitive and shorter than average height is a curse. Somehow my credits  are overshadowed by the goals that l missed  while guarding at net and not my brilliant saves .Keeping  the demons in their boxes can be a time consuming journey.
 Cycling works as a soother sometimes, but add a few  competing cyclists and the occassional dirty white van from Basildon then its back to gritted teeth and hatred...nothing personal, but sharing the bitumen with others who would love nothing more than to shaft you delicately into the next world is a pain.
So it was with  mixed feelings that our 3 hours had come to an end in the Terme . There was sadness , because  had l tried harder to relax it could have been fun too. Perhaps its time to look beyond Billy Nomates as my role model.
The faces in the dressing room seemed relaxed, but they may have omitted the recommended uterine sojurn, and had a surfit of  the 'mud goo' instead. l can't blame them, they are only human....one man's meat and all that.
Giuseppe does not have my angst gene either and he was happily swapping experiences with Pat who clearly had been in an alternative universe. lt was her second trip here, and it seemed to have rejuvenated her....perhaps she too had been suffering from 'cold turkey' in Halifax (Nova Scotia) and comes back to Tuscany for another shot of  'goo' as required. l did not have the gumption (aka testicles as big as grapefruit) to ask about THE..UTERUS..she could have taken it the wrong way, and instead of reading this piece you could be scanning my obituary.
So out we went into the sunshine,optimistic and 'looking foreward' to the gargantuan feast that would have to be negotiated that evening. You see what l mean about angst!
The taxi rank had at least 10 cabs sitting patiently...no unruly scuffling for our custom...Our driver stepped foreward, opened the doors and off we went. The journey takes about 20 minutes and initially all we could do was look with wonder at the beautiful rolling hills, whose cypress trees stabbed like exclamation marks  at the puffy  white clouds made of cotton wool.Then like all ernest students we got onto grammar....we were sharing our ignorance and it was time for some real light to be cast, so we asked our driver. He looked about 40 yrs old , small well trimmed beard ,very slightly greying, with wire rimmed glasses. He could have easily passed for a  senior university lecturer, not just in appearance but also manner as he went through the various complications that we had brought to him.
He clearly loved this land, its language and history and at journey's end showed us on his i pad a text book he thought we should consider getting to help with our studies.
What you get is what there is! My thoughts as we got out turned to how my local cabbie might respond to my uncertainties of English grammar...  better let that one just fade away painlessly.
School tomorrow, but with my stay over half way through  l was starting to feel like an old hand....still true in one way because l was still the oldest student there even though l  was also a beginner in what really matters.

For most of the specialst areas a recommended time is suggested to enable the recipient ( now that's a great word too....makes me feel that at last l might get something for nothing ) to  enjoy the maximum benefit. So for the Bagno Turco it is 10 minutes, Melmarium con argilla depurativa ( our last friend) its 20 minutes and the list goes on. For the Stanza del silenzio interiore it could be until its closing time ...not for that day or week but probably as close to 9 months ( unless of course you are an elephant)if  you get in real early, and there are no complications.
Inside this round walled pod are 6 chairs which seem to be suspended in a darkened space, and shaped to accommodate a large resting head whose only responsibility is to think itself back to the good old days when life in utero was the best thing ever. Once lying all curled up in that no nonsense foetal position it seemed impossible to me that anyone could  think seriously about job security, or whether the government could live without Mr Berlusconi°s ways or needed them to secure a popular mandate.. why bother about  the Church or the plight of Italy's youth struggling to make sense of  decades of corruption and waste. Why be born at all?
Yet fortunately here in this most sacred of darkened spaces where even the floor and walls enclosed the charmed sextuplets, forming a warm comfortable womb there were signs of something else.
Outside Giuseppe and l had no idea yet about what was taking place inside this womb. We ventured inside to darkness and were met with icy stares, from agitated pupils looking us up and down, and the shaking of heads  telling us to be quiet. No one inside this uterus seemed content...no one wanted just to be.....something was stirring.
So in this  Stanza del silenzio interiore perhaps demons were being faced rather than being put to sleep. Pehaps this wonderful and beautiful country whose language has made my life richer, is able to do more for its own sons and daughters...l hope so.
It was time to go......back to Montepulciano.

BAGNO TURCO was the place where our true mettle could be tested. Now it was the time of our equivalent of the full monty.....not baring our all, but just showing our legs. All we had to wear were Giuseppe's lycra running shorts; well they looked great on him but he is a good 6 inches taller than me.They were a size larger on the waist too but after Danilo's gentle persuasions over our evening meals, they fitted  me perfectly. We each had a pair, and were not sharing  one ! However if we had been sharing l doubt that it would have had any impact, as a result of either the  Piramide Energetica or the Crom+++ dei  Cha++ fusing the switch boards inside those fluffy white dressing gowns.
No one batted an eye lid as we covered our heads with the clear polythene caps and sat around  being splashed by water and steam. Everyone was disarmingly friendly ; there was no hierarchy ;...no one  was 'beautiful'. There were no side way glances and no sniggers....yes we all walked around with our clear head caps half filled with water, looking like a bunch of berks. We were graceless and common, and it was great. lt was starting to feel right again. Walking around looking as if you had a condom on your head half filled with a clear liquid felt  natural to me, as  if l was born like that. Can you believe  everyone at my kindergarden called me ' dickhead' ? l had thought they called me Deak Ed because l was dyslexic !! Bastards !!

A few moments later, as l opened the door to the next world, my anxiety and neurotic fears disappeared...l was back with my own kind ....l had entered the world of MELMARIUM CON ARGILLA DEPURATIVA.  I was hoping you would be impressed. I have not come across this much latin since l studied it 50 + years ago at Randwick Boy's High. In layman's language ( if you are a Prince of the Church then you should be able to work it out for yourself ) its a place where you dip your hand into a clay pot  containing a thick warm dark goo which you them smear on yourself or anyone else near who fancies a bit . l was amazed where it got to considering there was no rearranging of  swimwear.The next stage was to allow it to dry so that everyone looked like an extra from a horror movie with skin ressembling  the parched wastelands of Death Valley. Peer approval in the form of  rapid jerking heads of the new comers into the chamber seemed to excite bliss in the reclining disintegrating figures smeared with stuff that looked like but fortunately did not smell of dog poo. Conclusion : this place housed some seriously troubled people and this  treatment of "not dog poo" needed to be more of the real thing if they were going for broke and looking for  a  cure. Sometimes you just shouldn't settle for second best! After all this excitement and opportunity for self expression, there are showers whose fracking like powers  remove all this pretend crap off your skin so that you are returned to the world looking just how you did age age dot. You may not be born again, but you definitely smell of clean.
Giuseppe to give him his due, smeared some pretend dog crap on his chest....l have never see him look so  possessed;. It was now clear that he had lost his marbles and l had to get him out before he started eating the stuff.  Please don't think l'm exaggerating for there is a condition where people really do and its called coprophagia but this time there is no pretending!
There was one more chamber that was left on the list that would make coprophagia taste like the best   ice cream sundae ever on a hot day..(sorry about that but there are others things you can turn to as an alternative), and that was the Stanza del silenzio interiore.

Chianciano Terme is situated in a town built specially around the thermal springs and there is a significant industry that has grown up as a result. The spa bit looks quite impressive set out in beautiful sculptured ground with majestic tall trees. The building definitely has an aura....it could be from a film set where the great and the very beautiful mingle, as their flesh is rejuvenated  by gentle stretching and massaging, with lots of swirling steam and warm towels,with both sexes smiling and whispering, luxuriating in this simple nest and  their afternoon tea of cucumber sandwiches and delicious small pastries that only an establishment like this in rural Tuscany would have the wit and sophistocation to serve.
If this fantasy was only 5% right  then my life had not been in lived in vain! There was a lot riding on this visit as if it had become the Holy Grail.

We were asked at the reception desk if we had a reservation (we did not), and established our right of entry after we were made €45  lighter . Then we  were gently ushered into the marble ante chamber of the changing room happily clutching our  thick snowy  white towelling dressing gowns with fluffy towels to match. The fantasy that was in the process of creation started to grow like a giant silver helium balloon slowly filling up as it nudged it way aloft searching for the dizzy heights of the stratosphere. Just like my helium filled friend I too had made it to the big time (just) like everyone else here. This arriving business had a lot going for it.
To  finish this ensemble  the next attendant who was dressed like a fashional model just about to go into a photo shoot handed over a pair of flip flops, a plastic name tag  and a clear plastic hair cover.
The emotional rollercoaster had just begun. We knew that we would look just like MUPPETS in this new uniform and we wondered how this would affect our Bella Figura. The helium fuelled fantasy now floated like a garbage truck falling out of the sky .
Not to be detered by this minor technical hitch we screwed up our courage and depleted purses and marched in. We were going to have the relaxing time of our life because we had paid 45 euros for 3 hours of  pampering.

We ( Giuseppe and l decided to give each other buddy support whilst Pat did her own thing) went into the first room of AROMATERAPIA ENERGIZZANTE where a young couple obviously 'in love' looked into each others eyes and sighed, whilst sweet draughts of warmed air gently passed over.  Without those energised vapours  being pumped into the room l reckon there is little chance of that relationship making it past the bus stop around the corner on their way home . A sign outside the room suggested if you were suffering from depression or any other mental health problems, then aromat...energizz... may be worth avoiding but the risk was yours....pretty strong stuff l thought. You never know because it may be that kind of power is what's needed in today's society.
However if that energy didn't work then CROMATOTERAPIA dei CHAKRA might. Here light came into the room shaped like a pod but after 30 seconds of standing in that room l could bear it no more. My nerves were at screaming pitch and l beat an ungainly  retreat. The room was empty and for good reason. The sign outside the door said the same as the first so being a mug l ignored it, and subjected myself to  something that was invisible, silent and odourless....never had l felt myself to be in such danger. I hope  the long term side effects aren't in the same category as Chernybol. I asked Giuseppe to check me over to make sure nothing had fallen off or changed colour. He hesitated and said he would tell me later.
Just to be sure l insisted on taking a  shower and there was no sign saying that being mentally unstable was a contraindication to allowing warm water over your body. At least l was being proactive to the combination of chakra and light...a beastly combination you must agree!
The CAMMINATA NEL FIUME was out of bounds so no extra bravery was called for.
Giuseppe who had been a lawyer and was now a clinicial nurse working in Accident and Emergency department of a Washington hospital suggested l pull myself together and try a bit of time in the PIRAMIDE ENERGETICA to build up my energy stores. He could tell that l was on the edge.
To access the pyramid we had to go through a very short tunnel into its interior where coloured lights and 'energy' coming from its base were gently illuminating the space and filling it with the kind of zip l sorely needed (the helium fantasy was dying too slowly for my body to cope with.). There were no visible doors that could be shut sealing you into what could your resting place till archeologists lasered you out in 500 years time...but you never know. The sign was discretely placed and l had missed it. I was playing with fire and knew just how high the stakes had become.
BAGNO TURKO was something that l had tried before so now l was on terra firma at last!

It was over the next 3 days as the new house guests  Pat (Halifax Canada) and Daniel (Berne Switzerland)were settling in, that l declined any wine with the meal. My action was seen as a challenge to the status quo, but other than pouring wine through my hand covering the glass it was agreed by the looks exchanged that this was far from over., but it was time for both sides to step back...not being adverse to 'testing the water 'again l refuse the limoncello which came out next...the temperature started to rise as this had become far too provocative and our fingers were inching towards the nuclear buttons we each carried. This was MAD ( mutually assured destruction)  and a total waste of  energy for the only rational  basis of my efforts was to regain some autonomy, and not cause egos to spontaneously autodestruct.
My only court of appeal was Vanna for although Danilo wore the trousers she most definitely made sure they never fell down,and that had to be avoided at all costs.
She ia a wonderful listener and was aware that both sides needed to maintain face and bit by bit  l explained over the  meal times about reducing my calorie intake to my desired level. The message was starting to get through as portion control was helped by my  2 new school colleagues who were both keen to leave number 3 in the same state of fitness as they arrived.
Slowly, it all became forgotten and smaller portions were graciously served as my time for departure came closer, but made me very aware that hospitality may be more complicated than just being a paying guest and NEVER underestimate the power of a woman.
There was movenent in Itermediate ll, as new students joined, and with that the whole landscape changed. The easy relationships that had been established  only 2 weeks previously were consigned to the 'imperfetto' and it seemed it only took hours before the 'passato prossimo ' was used to describe our time together . By the end of my week 3 at the school, the relationships so alive and important previously had gone into the 'trapassato prossimo'.
We are all consigned to the 'trapassato remoto' like it or not.
There was unfinished business in the form of a trip to local thermal baths.
Terme di Chianciano was our chosen destination  ( the area is very well known for its thermal springs), and Pat had enjoyed being there before, so off we went. No public transport for the day but Vanna always the jewel in the crown gave us a lift. These terme are known as being a haunt for the beautiful people of Rome so although it may not be where Bella Figura was born it certainly was its home from home. Worth a look.