Italy Once More...2015

I used to love planning a trip, particularly pre-internet days when we would pour over maps planning the itinerary, familiarizing ourselves with the layout of the new country, writing city information offices, getting big packets in the mail with all the wonders of..say..Munich. Flying was fun, discovering places and restaurants without Trip Advisor et al was exhilarating, having lots of serendipity moments made great memories, life was an adventure. 

Somehow some of that has been lost but travel is still planning, exploring and serendipity, just 2105 style rather than 1985. And, even though we have now been to Italy many times, including once for a full year, planning for Italy always is accompanied by excitement and anticipation. Usually part of each trip is slow travel and part is expediency. There are times when what you want to visit and see is too spread out to allow for slow travel. So, our 2015 trip has some of each...leisure and hurry.

We are also at the stage that, though there are many, many parts of this country that remain mysteries to us, we find that we prefer to spend most of our time re-experiencing places we have been and love. No matter how many times we are someplace, there is always more to see and learn...nooks and crannies we missed before. Sort of like exploring your hometown after a visitor talks excitedly about a gem you didn't know existed...after living there decades. 

So this year, it is mostly has beens, in fact, all except for a couple days spent with friends in the home we have never visited. This will be one of the special times which we all look forward to. 

The biggest hurdle for travel in our new world is the chore of getting from here to there. While flying and arranging for flying used to be fun, it no longer is..at all, ever. It is now no more than the means to the end. So, we have our United flights from San Diego, Newark to Venice, which I will admit is nice as I thought we would need to fly to Milan and then work our way to Venice and then return Rome, Newark to San Diego. We're still waiting for upgrades. Even though we have hundreds of miles, using them is difficult..didn't used to be that way, did it?

Our first stop is a week in the lovely Serenissima Repubblica di Venezia...Venice. I am so looking forward to this week for multiple reasons, not the least of which is the wonderful appartment we will call home for the week. I have an excellent report that it is lovely and its location is superb in sestiere San Polo. Casey will have a friend from Cortona join us for the week as there are times when you are 16 that being with mom and dad is Boring.  A highlight for them will be a gondola rowing lesson along the canals...Row Venice plus, I suspect they will be doing their own exploring in the calles and campos. Ken and I are already making a list of restaurants--both ones we have been to and ones we want to check out. With a bunch of friends who spend weeks and months there every year, we have plenty of recommendations.

If you have ever been to Venice, you know that we will spend minutes and hours lost in the maze of calles, campos and intertwining neighborhoods called sestieri.  These times are so much of the charm and siren call of this city, unique in the world. Combine this with the unexpected and magnificent art found in churches and galleries, the amazing palazzos along the canals, the sense of a past society of intrigue, riches and way of life unlike any other and you know you are a spectator of untold mysteries and scandal. Every turn is meant for the photographer.

The Grand Canal

From this fairytale place we move onto Cortona and return Matteo to his family and then to our favorite place on earth, Sant' Antonio in Montepluciano for another week. That is a post of its own. And then...friends, Greve--our home for the year, Almafi, Positano, and finally Roma. More on those things in more posts...maybe.

Sant' Antonio

Reflections in Pictures

...sitting here thinking about Italy this summer and pondering how vacation times fade into forgotten memories so quickly as the "now" takes over. Thank goodness for the magic of photography which captures memories for times of reflection and appreciation of what was.

So, forthwith here are some of this year's memories:

(these have music attached so you may want to turn down sound.)

Montepulciano--Good Friends--Bellissimo

Verona--Not Casey's Favorite Experience

Venice--A Place of Fantasy and Intrigue

Next up: Cortona, Greve and Assisi.  Stay tuned..

Music from Romantic Moments by André Rieu

Cortona--Fun Times

When we were beginning the arduous planning for our year in Italy, Cortona was one of the places we considered. We had visited the town twice on previous trips and liked it; plus, I had a friend from SlowTravel who not only lived there but had a son Casey's age which was important to us. Ale, my friend, even scouted out a of couple apartments for us. But...we ended up in Greve instead.

Now, five years later, we finally got our boys together and within minutes of meeting a true friendship formed. Ale and I ended up saying "they're like the same person in two bodies" because their interests and likes seem/are so much alike. Matteo is older than Casey by just two weeks. What a friendship they would have had if we had lived there. Now Cortona will be a prescribed stop on future pilgrimages to Italy.

Matteo for Casey...


and Ale for me.


Alessandra (Ale) is a warm, fun, energetic, engaging woman. Also ...opinionated, out-spoken and multi-faceted. In other words, my kind of person. I would have thoroughly enjoyed her friendship if we had chosen Cortona as our home that year. Maybe we should think of doing an encore.

Ale has just been included in a list of the 100 best cooking schools in Italy --sorry, but I forget which magazine. Considering that there are hundreds of cooking schools in Italy, this is quite an honor. She is good. I spoke with a couple who had taken one of her lessons and they totally raved about her. In their journal they have included The section "things we have learned from Alessandra." I suggested they start a blog and list these so others could benefit.

Alessandra also has a shop in Cortona, Girasole which features jewelry and artifacts fashioned after that in the Etruscan Museum in the palazzo across the street from her shop. Her jewelry is featured in the National Geographic catalogue--pretty impressive.

Her shop also has beautiful linens which are reproductions of that of the renaissance, terracotta articles and items reflective of Tuscsany. It's difficult to peruse her shop and leave empty handed--I can't. Several years ago I bought Etruscan jewelry. This time it was unique Tuscan motif jewelry..and, sale and pepe grinders with bronze tops which will make great conversation pieces at dinner and good menories for us.



All of Alessandra's wares are made in Italy and come from within 200 kms of Cortona. She personally knows and has selected each artisan and manufacturer featured in Girasole. Quality is the trademark.

We had two fun filled dinners and evenings with Ale, Marino and the kids, Matteo and Francesca, who is 9 and, I believe, developed a crush on teenager Casey.


The first night, after dinner, we joined the music and dancing in the piazza. Well, we just listened and watched as mostly college age kids did the dancing part. We were content with our gelato and friends.

The next night we had a truly one-of-kind unique Tuscan/Italian experience--the American Saloon with an authentic western decor and an equally authentic, traditional Tuscan menu.







Franco, the owner, is enamored of all things cowboy and must surely have been one in a previous life. He also raises owls. Quite a character.


Dinner was fun with a mixture of English and Italian--well, mostly Italian. We were joined by Donatella and Roberto, friends of Ale and Marino.


A fun night.

One more thing to mention. The lovely B&B where we stayed..wonderfully situated on the main street in Cortona Casa Chilenne. Breakfast includes home made pastries, eggs as you like, waffles, meats...just about anything you would want Everything about the place is top quality from fluffy towels to decor to beds to all. It even has chair lifts to all 4 floors for people who would need that service. Amazing place and delightful owners. We will return next time unless we get an apartment for a week or so.

So, you have the highlights of our time in Cortona. There was more but this is long enough. Thank you Ale, friend, for having so much time for us. a presto!

Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

We're Here--More or Less

Actually, it is less....less one person. Casey and I arrived last night, a little late but that was OK. it was a very long flight--at least we were up for a long time. We always take morning flights but this time, because we were using miles, we could ony get a flight leaving at 2:20 pm which was delayed until 4pm. This didn't leave much connecting time in Chicago, but we made it with 15 minutes to spare. Then over the water we were on Lufthansa in business which has these quite uncomfortable slanting seat/beds--didn't sleep much. By the time we got to bed in Rome--well, actually, Fiumicino...we were up almost 30 hours. Wow...no wonder we were walking zombies.

So, back to why we are missing one person..Ken is still in D.C. He left San Diego yesterday morning, scheduled to arrive in Rome at 7:30 this morning. But, because of weather problems in D.C., his flight to Rome was cancelled. Now, he is still there and won't get out until 5 pm tonight getting here tomorrow morning--hopefully.

All hotels around the D.C. airport are fully booked so he is in the Red Carpet Club for 27 hours. He'll make our 30 hours seem like not much. Hopefully, he will get some sleep on the plane--United has lay-flat beds.

We had a reservation at a lovely BandB in the hilltop town of Casperia tonight-- we really had looked forward to a super nice beginning of our trip. Now Casey and I are enscounced at the Hilton Airport Gatden Inn, awaiting Ken's arrival. At least the hotel is air-conditioned and a nice room with free wifi.

So, domani (tomorrow, for people with less Italian than even I) we will head to our most favorite retreat, Sant Antonio, outside of Montepulciano. There we will relax, enjoy our friends, Nico and Elena, eat well and know that life is good with just a few small bumps to let us appreciate it even more. Can't think of a better place to experience the good.

Now, let's pray that Ken does get out tonight! Let the vacation begin!

Italy on the Horizon-Yeah!

Two years? Not possible! My mind, in vivid colors, conjures up familiar places, friends' faces, favorite tables at favorite trattorias, slopes of green vines, piazzas, art extraordinaire, lagoons, Giotto--so many imprints from so many visits, so much nostalgia for our Tuscan year. And now we are returning after a year's hiatus--how could we have stayed away so long? Ah, I remember, Kenya called and so lions and giraffes replaced David and Leonardo for 2010. And.....I don't regret that excursion at all--it was totally, monumentally spectacular.

But now we go home in 27 days--whose counting, anyway? Casey and I leave on June 15 via United and Lufthansa--San Diego, Chicago, Frankfurt-Rome; Ken follows the next day via United with a by far better routing--San Diego-D.C.-Rome. Why? Because Casey and I used miles for business while Ken has a revenue fare with a business upgrade. He needed the last few ff miles to reach the heady 1,000,000 mile with nice life-time perks. It would have been good to get our free tickets to match his itinerary but no such luck and since free is free we took what we could get.

Casey and I will stay at the Luana B&B near the Rome Airport waiting Ken's arrival the next day and then head on to our most favorite of all places, beautiful and serene Sant' Antonio outside of Montepulciano. This year will mark 10 years since we first arrived at Sant' Antonio and began our friendship with the owners Nico and Elena. Casey and their children have grown up together. We came there days after 9/11/2001 when the world was in mourning with the US. It was a somber time which forged lasting friendships wherever you were.

We love southern Tuscany and have explored it well over the years but..there are always places missed and those to revisit. We will do both during our week there.

Casey, Sofia and Filippo will again renew their friendship as children do while Ken and I will enjoy time with Nico and Elena. As I write, I long to be there.

From Sant' Antonio we go to Verona for just two nights. We want Casey to see the opera Aida in the Roman Arena there--well, we want to see it, too, actually. The opera season there is world famous and a truly special operatic event. We bought our tickets a long time ago. I understand that the spectacle includes elephants entering down the aisles which will surely captivate Casey if the arias don't. Aida Pictures from the 2009 Season

From Verona, train to Venice-- La Serenissima (the most serene.) We have an apartment there for 6 nights--not long enough but better than our original 3 nights. We've been there before--once just Ken and I in 1999 and then in 2003 with Casey. His memories consist of the pigeons in Piazza San Marco and the gondola ride when he oh so politely told the gondolier "these boats are called canoes in San Diego."

I am totally looking forward to these days in Venice. It is magical there--even with the early summer crowds. I love wandering lost among the calles and canals, admiring the creative vision and genius of building such magnificent structures on water, the food, the Tintoretto and Titian masterpieces, the riding the vaporetto, visiting the islands and the food, again. There is so much we have not seen there that our days will be full.

We pick up our car on leaving Venice, drive to Padua to view the exquisite Giotto frescoes in the Cappella degli Scrovegni. The next morning we will head on to our "home" in Greve-in-Chianti where we will nest for 4 weeks. We already know the first or maybe the second night will find us at Il Portico with Marcella.

Once again Casey will have his birthday there--the 4th time. He will officially  become a teenager then--13! Very hard to believe that the little boy who went to 3rd grade there is now almost a grown-up. His teachers and karate instructors will be very surprised by how big he is and by the excellence of his Italian. His tutors here have done a good job with him.

I will take a 3 day vacation-in-a-vacation to Dublin with my friend Rita. Having never been to Ireland, I look forward to this brief, small sampling. Rita has been there so she will be my guru--nice.

While in Greve, the three of us will head to Umbria for 3 nights and take a cooking class from a friend of mine. I will be sure to blog about Rebecca's place where we will stay and Letizia's cooking class. I think this is going to be a blast.

So that is the outline of our plans. The details will be filled in once we arrive and I begin blogging again on a fairly regular basis. It is so much easier when doing something new and different--not like boring at home stuff.

A Presto

Missing Italy

Just decided it was time to write something and had no idea what until the fingers, with their own volition, inserted a title. And...I realize that it is right. I do miss Italy right now. It has been over a year since being there with another 4½ months ahead of us--too long.

Lately, I have been corresponding with a woman who is planning her family's own "year in Italy", triggering memories and nostalgia for me. It seems as if it were just yesterday that we were going through the trials of dealing with the infamous Italian embassy, getting our FBI clearance, translating documents, finding a place to live--and most importantly, determining what was best for Casey's schooling. Many of you followed those early days with us. Can you believe that it was 6 years ago when we began the journey  and 4½ years since we arrived at our home in Greve in Chianti? It seems so just yesterday.

Casey was 8 years old--in retrospect such a little boy. I didn't realize then how small he was and the expectation we were putting on him.

What was it like entering a classroom where everyone jabbered and he understood not  a word?  Sitting there 8 hours a day, wondering what was happening around him. It is amazing that there were only two or three nights when he went to bed with tears--encouraging us to stay but letting him go "home." My heart still hurts for him when I think of those times. But....I knew that if we, he, could get through the beginning, the end would be good.

And, it was. Before long, he held his own with the new language, laughed with the other children, enjoyed going to school, and even earned good grades. Children came over to play; birthday party invitations arrived; karate sessions were anticipated; the piazza was his. The rhythm of life was established and life was good. Saturday at the cinema was an event; the gelateria ladies smiled and knew him. He even enjoyed the museums of Florence.

When the day came to leave, the pain was greater than those early nights of crying. His soul hurt as he said goodbye to the best friend he has ever known.

 

It was hard for Ken and I, too, as we took in the beautiful, quintessential Tuscan hills and landscapes that had been ours for a year. Leaving was painful.

We have been back for several weeks each year except for this last summer. We went to Kenya instead. I don't regret that, how could I? Lions in trees, trumpeting elephants, zebras and giraffes and wildebeests and cheetahs? You just don't see these in Tuscany. But, underneath that, we did miss our Tuscan home.

 Home at the Top of the Stairs

Casey is no longer a little boy.  He is taller than me now--by a smidge.

 Mr. GQ

When we are in Tuscany next summer, he will become a teenager--his 3rd birthday there. With all our travels, he has had more birthdays in Italy than here in San Diego.

I wonder what it will be like when he and his friend meet after a two year absence. Will their bonding unite them again immediately or will it take a while. Casey doesn't think so. They say they are closer than brother and sister, girlfriend/boyfriend.

So, what do I miss? Long, leisurely drives discovering secret roads, hidden chapels, roadside shrines. Quiet lunches at out of the way places; shopping at the COOP; favorite restaurants, Bruno's hugs; the bus to Firenze; friends; the piazza; Sara; Signora Franca; the gelateria; so much, too much.

The thing is though--it will all be there waiting. Things don't change too fast in the Chianti. Panzano will be up the hill; the drive to Figline will be the same curves and small hamlets; my friend will be home in Chiocchio. All will be well.

I can't wait!

 A Different View of Greve in Chianti

A Month Later

A month ago today, I was tired, cranky, dazed and horribly incoherent. Having survived the trip home from Italy, I wondered if I would see normalcy again in my lifetime. By day two I thought I was fine, but when the end of the week came and I was still dealing with a frustrating tiredness, it hit me that I am getting older and adjustment takes longer. I just hate these reminders. If I can maintain denial I'm happy.

So now a month has passed and I am in what passes for normalcy; although Casey would tell you I am weird--and that that is normal. He thrives on having a weird gramma.

A recent aha moment came when I realized that I am comfortable here in my country in spite of my total infatuation with Italy.

Always in the past when we returned, adjustment was difficult as I so missed Italy and all that it offers. Eventually this longing led to the adventure of living there for twelve wonderful months. Returning to the US at that time was painfully difficult and traumatic as chronicled in entries from July, August and September 2007.

We have now had two more lazy summers there. We love those times and feel that we have arrived “home” when the plane lands. But this year we found the leaving a little less painful. Thoughts of home beckoned us—even Casey.

We know that we are just a plane ride away and that we will be back again and again. The sense of loss is lessened. Life here is just easier in many ways and this year I finally realize that I like that.

The wonderful roadways and byways displaying the beautiful scenery and landscape of Tuscany refreshes the soul but the ease of roadways and getting from here to there in San Diego is refreshing in its own way.

I love the little stores and shops in Italy where shop keepers are warm, friendly and delightfully helpful and food is always fresh but, I must admit, the frequency of large, get-whatever-you-need-in-one-place supermarkets has advantages. Yes, Italy has these in some places but for most people getting to them requires a considerable expenditure of time with the frozen things unfrozen by the time they reach home.

And…I love Costco where I can get all sorts of things—good new Tuscan olive oil, wonderful parmigiano-reggiano cheese from Parma, bufala mozzarella from Southern Italy, balsamic vinegar from Modena, fresh Dungeness crab from San Francisco, huge Alaskan crab legs, red-ripe tomatoes from Mexico and so much more. The biggest problem with Costco, as anyone knows, is that the “so much more” usually results in a huge deficit at the check-out stand. It is the ultimate venue for impulse buying but, then, what a deal.

I like my home here, for while it is in the city, it doesn’t seem like it. We have, by California standards, a large lot with pool, citrus trees, fountains and a fenced off area for a motor home (if we had one) which now houses Casey’s fort and bunches of other stuff—all in the midst of Ken’s gardening accomplishments.

I like my house—it is large and roomy with lots of storage. There is a park across the street.

I like that I have a church to attend—in fact a multitude of choices. When we lived in Italy, we would have our own little service, well—actually a Sunday School for Casey—each week. We are not Catholic and other denominations are few and far between—there was nothing near us. We believe in weekly attendance and very much want Casey to be grounded spiritually. This is the major reason we wouldn’t consider returning to Italy for another extended period—that and, unlike Casey, Ken and I have not been successful in learning the language. Living in another country without being fluent in the language is quite different from visiting, even when the visits are several weeks long.

I like going clothes shopping and finding clothes that fit. I know—Italy is the land of fashion and it’s everyone’s dream to fill back-home closets with fashions from bella Italia. The truth is that I have had minimal success finding clothes that I like and that fit while there. The reason? I am not sure.

I like the dollar rather than the euro. Now—that’s a no brainer. Not only is our currency exceedingly weak and so when you look at a €15 price tag, it is really $22, things in Italy (well, Europe in general) cost more than they do here even before the terrible conversion factor. A pair of Nikes that you might pay $100 for in the United States will cost close to $200 there. The three of us dining at a simple enoteca or trattoria approaches or exceeds $100. You use your credit card and so temporarily ignore the cost—until the bill comes the next month.

So, yes, the $ is better unless your currency is euro and you come here. Now, that’s a deal. People fly to New York just to shop the sales.

I like the visual stimulation in Casey’s classrooms and the diversity of teaching methods. I like that teachers put a premium on creative thought and development of personal opinion and justification of same. Casey had a wonderful third grade year in Italy and learned much. He grew and developed under the guidance of his teachers there; however, middle and high school is much different. Learning is very classical and didactic which is not negative and my friends’ children are brilliantly educated but the absence of nurturing critical thought is a negative in my mind. With that said, we may send Casey there for a year in high school at some point. As he is fluent in Italian and already has friends there, it might work well.

I like the ocean, the vast variety of culinary options, the richness of California in terms of desert, mountains, farm lands, forests and lakes. I like that we have a young and vibrant president. I like that I have friends in many, many of our 50 states. There is much I like here.

I don’t like the bitterness of the far-right political crazies—the birthers, those who oppose providing health care to everyone, those who cry socialism at every instance as a means to stop progress, those who think it is OK to disrespect the President of their country, those who think ends can justify the means, those who find the shallowness of Palin to be attractive and beguiling, those who believe this country can run without taxes, those who do not want to fund schools, etc. I have little patience for these people but fear them. The hate that they spew can have only one conclusion if left unchecked and then the nation and we will suffer.

And...to complete on a positive note...I like the history I have with friends here. I have many friends in Italy but they are new and they are spread out. Here I have old--well, long time--people who know me well and I know them. We have shared families, joys and hurts over the years. They are comfort. I love (not said casually) my Italian friends and treasure them--there is no lack of caring among us. They have an understanding of me that my friends here do not have and I turn to them. But the history is not there.

With all this said, I still miss, love and will keep returning to Italy—a country and people that hold much of my heart. It is just that it isn’t so bad here, after all.

2 More Sleeps

In the common parlance of Slow Talk, a helpful site when planning trips to Europe and elsewhere, you mark off time to travel by counting the "sleeps"--nights before departure. We now have 2--tonight and tomorrow. Monday morning we are off and the daily grind is behind us for a few weeks. I have decided that part of my love for travel--besides the enrichment and cultural opportunities--is the total escapism it offers. Today this is less so than when we began our journeys--before the unavoidable prevalence of TV, the internet and mass travel, where new news is constant. But, it is still quite possible to lose oneself in anonymity and separate from home.

Anyway, we are ready. The suitcases are full and zipped--well, almost. We bring with us an odd assortment of things. Having lived in Italy for a year and having friends whom we know well, we bring gifts that are rather out of the ordinary. This year it is 10 lbs of pancake flour for Casey's friend Tommaso who asks for this each year. Then there are special kitchen sponge type things for Nicoletta because I know she likes them and can't get them in Italy. She will be surprised (unless she reads this) as she doesn't know that I know. Following these unique gift items are a couple strainers from Bed, Bath and Beyond for sink drains, kids things for Camilla, Sophia, Filippo and Tommy and other oddities for Alessandro, Signora Franca, Sara and Valentina.

So we end with one carry on with nothing but electronics and important papers. One carry on with clothes for each of us in the event of waylaid checked luggage. (I am pretty well convinced that our time is about due as we have had phonemonal luck with luggage over the years--even when we traveled with 9 huge duffles the year we moved.) And then my rather large carry on purse with a myriad of essentials.

We are checking 2 suitcases plus the duffel of gifts. This is not bad since there are 3 of us for 7 weeks. And, I know, that we have way more than we need. Do I really need 7 pairs of shoes? Of course! Fortunately, I buried them so Ken won't know until we get there.

When we return we will still have this assortment of valises as the replacement pieces for my dishes, which I had delivered to our home-away-from-home in Greve, will fill the emptied out spaces. This beats paying shipping costs to the US.

So we are off. Ten days in a limited area of Provence. Friends are picking us up in Nice. We'll have a couple days with them before heading off to Arles and surroundings. On the 9th we head to Italy with the first two nights in Bologna. There we will meet a friend from Hawaii for dinner. And... then our annual pilgrimage to our most favorite of favorite places, Sant' Antonio in Montepulciano before heading to the final 4 weeks in "our" apartment in Greve in Chianti.

This year we are facing the emerging adolescent in Casey as he is having mixed emotions about leaving for so long--or at all. This child who has been nurtured on travel and has a wanderer's spirit is turning out to be a normal kid. The consolation is that as soon as he hits foreign soil, especially that of his loved Italy, he will be just fine. He belongs to two worlds and each has a powerful hold on him. This is good.

A Touch of Homesickness

Today I was missing Italy. Then I saw these beauties that now grace my counter.

They are lovely.

Just a Month.....

Boy, does it seem longer than that! But, yes, it was August 19 that we left lovely Montepulciano and many hours later reentered the US. Why is it that time rushes by so much more quickly while traveling? It does, doesn't it? I am certain this is a truth that remains elusively improvable.

So, do we miss Italy so soon? Yes, of course, we do. Some of the reasons are quite predictable—food, beauty, people, history, art, ambiance, evocative drives, archeological wonders. Any one who ever sets foot in that country comes away with the same list. Maybe even arm-chair travelers share the feelings.

And, of course, these are things we miss. I suspect a day does not go by that we do not share some memory or some future hope.

However, there are other, less predictable reasons to rather be there than here.

• No nightly news in English
• Well, a lot of no TV
• The ability to forget that things are going on "back home" and live accordingly
• No workouts at the gym (which I hate--passionately)
• A simpler life because most responsibilities have been left behind
• No bizarre political stuff--well, there is Berlusconi
• No talk of Bridges to Nowhere
• Not much going with the phone
• No yard work
• Escapism from the realities of what is happening here
• More time to read
• No Bush, No McCain, NO palin or, I can forget them for a while, at least
• Get-togethers with firends who are in Italy at the time we are--friends from around the world
• The day's fresh catch available in the piazza
• Rich, golden-yellow eggs
• Tomatoes of many varieties--red, ripe and lush
• Pastries--delicious
• White roads--a real favorite
• Whispering borgos
• If you can add to the list, leave a comment or two

Added by Harriet-thanks, Harriet.

• restaurants where they treat you like family
• Fruit and vegetables with flavor
• all of the little local festivals

And, last night I made reservations for next summer—since we like to upgrade we need to make plans early. But…tickets are so costly now that the days of frequent, at will travel are over. The world may be getting smaller but access to it is getting harder. What a shame this is.

Next summer we fly into Nice and spend 11 days with a friend who will take us to his home country of Morocco. We are really looking forward to that and Casey can’t wait to ride a camel. After that we will be in Tuscany for 5 weeks.

We will be back ten and a half months after leaving and as Casey said this morning—I want to be in Italy.

One Week—Four Days

1985 was our first trip to Europe. Before that, such far-flung travel had a mysterious allure seeming to belong only to other people—certainly not to us. We were campers.

Then came an “a-ha” moment when our world turned and changed forever. Suddenly we were planning a trip to Germany and Austria and taking my mother-in-law with us. So much of the magic of that trip revolved around giving this wonderful woman something beyond any dream she had thought to have—a memory I treasure.

Twenty-three years later I still remember every detail of those three weeks as we fast tripped from Berlin, seeing the incredible sight of the Wall and crossing Check Point Charlie into East Berlin, to a production of The Student Prince in Heidelberg, to Bavaria and Neuschwanstein, to Garmisch, to Innsbruck, to the salt mines of Salzburg, Vienna, Gratz and so much more. Today I am amazed by how much we saw and did in such a short time. I remember following the night-crier in Dinkelsberg as he stopped at each inn for his draught. I remember…. And so began our travel addiction.

In eleven short days we will be flying to Italy once again—the country we have visited over and over. Not that we haven’t been to other places—China, Tanzania, Peru, Ecuador, Turkey and many countries throughout Europe—but Italy entered our souls from our first encounter. It is vibrant; it flows with color; its kitchens apologize to no one; its people are warm and welcoming and...then…there is the art and the duomos and the piazzas and the wine and the sunflowers and the history and, and, and…..

Packing this time is difficult when it should be easy. Last time we went for a year and had mountains of luggage as we moved our life to another country. So now we just have 9 weeks to worry about and I can’t get started. It is simply too simple.

At this point, I have a duffle filled with gifts for special people and birthday party stuff—Casey and Camilla are having a joint party with their school friends. We know we’re bringing roller blades and accompanying paraphernalia. There are the books and electronics—computer, cameras, DVD player, GPS, phones, IPOD and speakers—requiring their own carry-on.

But clothes--I have Casey's laid out and am certain that there is way too much. He will live in his bathing suit and will wear the same shorts for days on end--guess I need to put 90% of that pile back. We must not leave Nike, his stuffed dog, behind. Nike is Casey's Velveteen Rabbit--all the fur loved off long ago, a best friend, a necessity for sleep.

Find Nike?

So--eleven days left--now ten--one of the tomorrow's will be time enough to pack. And...unquestionably, we will bring too much.

Counting Days

A year ago we were living in Italy. The memories are full and continue to warm our souls. We miss it—Casey, Ken and I—every day. I don’t think a day goes by that one of us doesn’t share a memory or the longing to be there again. In a year one grows past the infatuation with the romance of Italy and begins to understand a little of the ebb and flow of life and people. The piazza becomes more than a place of charm and becomes a community. When the tourists go home for the winter, life settles in to a pattern of traditions and calm. It is a different place. Winter brings with it a sense of peace.

Now we are going back—we will land at the Florence airport less than a year after we waved goodbye and watched Alessandro, Camilla and Mario return to the vehicles that deliverd us and our luggage for the journey home. It was a sad day and no one was sadder than our Casey and his sorella Camilla—these children that bonded in such an unusual way. They seemed to become extensions of each other as they spent that year together.

This time is just for two months but we will be there. We talk of the things we will do, the places to revisit, the friends to connect with, meals at our favorite restaurants and the welcomes we know we will receive when we walk in the door. We will belong to our past for a short while.

It won’t be the same because it will be tourist season and we will blend in with all those who are seeking the magic of Tuscany. It is not our favorite season there—in fact, it is not the time we would go if not for restrictions Casey’s school year places on us. Tonight we again wondered if we should return for another year but, it is too late now. Our Permesso di Soggiorno has expired so we would need to repeat the excruciating visa process—which takes months.

I know though that once there we will not want to come back to the states. And, I know for sure that Casey will want to stay with Tommy and Valentina and all his friends. He will want to stay where he can roam and be free, explore and discover—where he can feel safe in the piazza and walk hand and hand with Camilla into the gelateria. He will want to stay in the place that is home.

But now, it is ahead of us and we will relish each of the 61 days and know there are more years ahead for us. And Casey will always have two worlds that he calls home—two places where he belongs. What a future he has!

Italy on the Horizon

Two years ago all waking hours and night time dreams were consumed with preparations for our big adventure--the moment when we would finally step off into our fantasy year. Italy beckoned.

Ken and I are quite ordinary people with ordinary lives--with the exception that simple risk and the not-too-blurred unknown pose challenges wanting to be fulfilled. In life, there are so many "if onlys" ready to become so much more--waiting for a step to be taken. Most often all that is required is that moment of decision--a moment that seems to materialize from nowhere when the thought that has seemed so impossible suddenly loses its shackles and the primary obstacle is recognized as complacency.

Much of our journey toward that day when we stepped on the plane with 490 lbs of "stuff" in the hold was documented at the inception* of this blog--it is how this journal began. The impetus behind it was to journal the journey so that Casey would have a record in the future. The web seems like a time capsule that holds the past for the future.

Words become a way to crystallize experience and thoughts, saving them for the future. As we began to live our life in Italy, each day was a marvel of sensations and flavors. So, the blog then became the means of making the ethereal real. At the end of a day or a week, I would try to capsulize the wonders of wandering and learning to sense the soul of an old-country with a soulful history.

Now Italy is a part of who we are--common sense says a small part but our hearts make it much more. We were there not needing to make a living; we were outsiders allowed in; we could enjoy and live a fantastic dream without involvement. In many ways it was a year of escape. It was quite wonderful.

Now two months from today we will step back on Italian soil for two months--this time it will be a time when we can see the end from the beginning. It will be different. It won't be the same. But, we will be among friends, once more traveling the roads that lead somewhere, looking for undisturbed places, stumbling on quiet trattories not found in Fodor's and Frommer's or even Carla Capalblo. We will see the castle on the hill and the farmhouse across the way. Casey will run for Bruno's hug and slice of bread. The gelato ladies will know we're back. I'll use my COOP card. We will see our little man again, waving each time we pass him along the Greve River. We will be going home for a short while. We can't wait. There is not a day that passes that one of us doesn't bring it up--Casey leading the way.

So, Greve friends--we're almost there..............Ce Vediamo!

*TheBeginning

Fact or Fiction?

I have a friend who has a blog, well, truth be told, I have many friends who have blogs. Blogs are fun to write and sort of keep us out of mischief, more-or-less. The fact that they are read remains a puzzlement to me.

Valerie, from New Mexico and now living in Ascoli Piceno, Italy, writes a blog 2 Baci in a Pinon Tree. I like to read it because she tells of her life in Italy--a life that many days I long to be living again.

Right now Valerie is in the US and creatively has guest writers keeping her blog alive while she reacquaints with life here. I like that idea.

The current entry is written by Giorgio, a student in Ascoli Piceno. Giorgio has reintroduced me to the hilarious videos by Bruno Bozzetto which have been linked to by Slow Travel for sometime now--but, I forget about them after a while.

This one is for those of you have who have traveled in Italy, live in Italy or can't wait to go to Italy. It will let you laugh today--and maybe domani, too.

Enjoy.......... My favorite is "burocrazia. What's yours?



In defense of Italy I need to point out, that it has been one of the leading EU countries in terms of restricting smoking in public places.

I'm a Country Boy

Sometimes, and if we listen, experience teaches us truths about ourselves. If we are wise, we let these truths help form and mold us into what we become. So, the question I have is: When a child offers insight into his soul and reveals something about who he is, what is the responsibility of the adults in his life to respond to that self-knowledge?

I ask this because Casey, with the innocence of a child who in odd moments blurts out important insights, claims that he is "a country boy--not a city boy." At nine he not only senses who he is but can verbalize it. I fear that life as it unfolds will take this knowledge from him--that it will be smothered by daily life, forcing dreams to be put aside-- crowded out by the need to adjust to the environment he is captive to.

Casey lives in a city--an urban environment with houses on either side and behind, with busy crossroads, no room to explore and the constant, common fear of danger which keeps children tethered close to home.

Our children grew up in the same house that we now live but in "those days" kids walked themselves to and from school, explored nearby canyons, easily rode bikes to homes of nearby friends and had the freedoms that we associate with youth--the same ones that I experienced as a child. That has changed. Fear has displaced spontaneity and innocence.

Now parents drive or walk their children to and from school, canyons are off limits, seldom do kids ride their bikes from one street to another and the little park across the street does not promise safety unless kids are supervised. So, Casey participates in organized activities--soccer, Little League, flag football, karate, church activities and maybe chess (his latest thought)--but, he doesn't run free, discover hidden places or wander at will to where ever his feet lead. And I am sad for him.

He loved last year and thrived on being free. He and his friends would wander up the road, finding "crystals" and then bring these treasures home to break apart, looking for the riches they were sure they would find within. Woe to me if I threw any of this away.

After dinner on the piazza, he would go out and find friends and wander and play while we sipped our coffee, enjoying the ambiance of night in our small Italian village.

He was not afraid and we had no fear for him. It was a place for children to be and he loved it. "Gramma, I'm a country boy--not a city boy." And I understand him.

Missing the Bidet

A common question asked of us these days is: "What do you miss about Italy?"

There is so much and it is so total.

But......today I realized that I do miss the....bidet.

Most Americans wonder about this bathroom fixture. What in the world does one do with it? Why do Europeans find these so important that they are even in the Autostrada bagni? Does anyone really use them there?

However, today was leg defuzzing time and I realized how convenient the bidet is for this--far better than any option available here. It's the perfect height, the water is nicely warm--it is easy and comfortable. I need one.

This plumbing marvel is also very useful for soaking clothes and watering plants. Casey's greyed karate uniform looked new after a few hours in the bidet and the plants thrived and grew. I wish I had the foresight to photograph this fixture for illustration purposes.

Another thing I miss is one found in all Italian kitchens--in fact, most European kitchens. This is the over the sink draining cupboard--a brilliant accoutrement. For the uninitiated this looks like a cupboard but in reality is a hidden place to drain the washed dishes and store them until their next use. Even with a dishwasher there are things we wash the old-fashioned way--by hand. The draining cupboard is such an improvement over the counter drain where one must either dry dishes right away (a real bore) or let the kitchen be cluttered and disfigured (which I hate). With this cupboard it is truly out-of sight-out-of-mind until you next need that pan. I would definitely have one installed here except that I have windows above my sink--no room for a cabinet.

What else do I miss?

Well, the vast variety of toilet flushers is a possiblity. No two are alike. Sometimes it takes several minutes to locate one in the current room of use. Is it high on the wall? A chain to pull from the overhead? On the wall at the side? On top of the toilet tank? On the floor? On the side? Where? The creativity in designing clearly requires a Lego builder's mind.

Another candidate for nostalgia is the glove that one must wear when selecting produce at the grocery store. In Italy, you may not casually pick up a tomato with nude fingers. When entering the produce section, the first thing that must be done is don one of the cellophane gloves found in a little dispenser. It is always easy to spot the newcomer who naively picks over the onions or broccoli with uncovered hands. People in the know look askance at this faux pas.

The top box

Along with the gloves, also comes the weigh-in. As you bag your produce, you weigh each item by pushing its number or picture. Out comes the price tag which is then affixed to the bag. All the checker needs to do is scan the code. We could really benefit from this technique.

See How Easy?

And--trash pickup--or absence of such. Italy is extremely environmentally conscious. Recycling is a priority with schools having major units on the need to respect land, air and water--Casey is horrified if we so much as throw a plastic bottle cap in the general refuge container.

But--door-to-door pickup is not common. Instead, huge containers are along the sides of the roads--green for bottles/tin/plastic, grey for general kitchen type garbage and yellow for paper products. People must deposit their items in these bins. I can not tell you how often we took our garbage with us in the trunk only to arrive back home with it--having forgotten to dump it. Our consolation was that our Italian friends often did the same thing.

The fact is that I truly do miss these things. They are part of who I am now. Of course, in traveling to Italy over the years, I was aware of these things--nothing was new to me--but having lived them for a sustained time, they are no longer a novelty. They are part of an everyday life that was mine.

Today I find myself hesitant to touch produce at the grocery store --it just doesn't seem right. I look for the glove and cringe to see carrots being picked over. Today I was at a fast food place (yes, I admit that) and the flusher was a very European knob on the top--I smiled. However, the bidet was missing--the room seemed incomplete.

Beaches--Italian Style

Written June 28
Maremma—the beautiful coast of Tuscany. We had our own lounge chairs and umbrella in true European style. Vendors patrolled the beach, selling purses, jewelry, towels, fresh coconut and massages. It was picture perfect and just what one seeks when wanting to kick back and let the world roll by. The water is shallow enough that kids can play easily; there are no stones to pierce delicate feet; lifeguards patrol making sure bambini stay within safe territory. Each night the beach is combed and cleaned and so the next morning there is a pristine scene awaiting a new day.

This week we are on the northwest coast of Sicily where small beach and fishing villages scatter themselves along the coast. Here black lava rocks spill into the sea, covering what may have been sandy beaches and leafy trees centuries ago. And—here is where people flock on weekends and when the weather becomes unbearably hot.

They bring umbrellas--finding crevices in the lava in which to secure them, inflatable water toys for the kids, coolers of soft drinks and picnic supplies and then lay towels across the hot, jagged remnants of Mt. Etna and sun bathe. It is in such contrast to the shores of Maremma and yet, the water is just as cool and inviting; kids play in the lapping waves; snack stands thrive and everyone seems content and happy. There is a sense of community as people join together for a day at the shore.

Two different styles of beach life, both providing escape from daily life, chores and worries, both rejuvenating the soul. After a day of sun, play, and fun with friends and family, life seems different and tomorrow has a new color. After all, it isn’t the soft sand that matters but the newness that the sea offers, time spent with the greatest of nature’s phenomena.

Whether on the soothing sands of the Maremma or the sharp stones left by a volcano, pleasure is found in equal measure.

Villa Praiola—The Oasis

Written June 24


Today the usually sparkling Ionian sea hides under a blanket of shimmering, undulating heat. It is hot here on the east coast of mystical Sicily. Even dozing Mt. Etna is hard to see except for her smoking top. And—we sit in an oasis of beauty, with large shade trees cooling us after quick dips in the clear, cool pool. Surrounding us are petunias, bougainvilleas and myriad other flowers of all colors decorating walls and stairways. Birds fly from lemon tree to lemon tree and big fat lizards climb the walls looking for a cool corner.

We are at one of our favorite places—lovely Villa Praiola, perched between the Ionian Sea and Mt. Etna. When we were last here, we watched lava flow down the mountain, but this time we are not so lucky. The fire god is quiet for a while—but maybe domani? From the veranda we look over fields of trees—lemon and palms--all the way to the sea.

Today we went early to Taormina to again wander its charm and enjoy its beauty—with thoughts of buying another piece of unique pottery. I am glad we have been there before so that today we could pick and choose what we wanted to see rather than feeling the need to discover it all.

It was not long before we found an air conditioned trattoria before running back to the cool of the villa. I would have really liked to go on up to charming Castelmola but the pool and fans beckoned. I did find the ceramic piece but will give it a day’s thought before buying; it will need to be hand carried home and, after a year in bella Italia, there are already a few other things in that category—but, surprisingly little, actually.

Yesterday we did nothing—except for a short drive along the coast. When we were here before it was in October and the beach areas were shuttered ghost towns. The scene is quite different in June, particularly on a Sunday when people carrying umbrellas and multitudinous other necessities jaywalking streets to get to the beach side.

Plus we either have forgotten or habits have changed but by all appearances most drivers here have clearly not been to driving school—yesterday there were several hair raising near catastrophes —fortunately not involving us. I will say, today wasn’t bad at all-more like what we recall, a cross between San Francisco and, say, NYC.

Casey is now down at the pool with Lucio, the caretakers’ son—his friend from two years ago. The beauty of children is that friendships pick up where they leave off—particularly true of young boys who share the wonders of such things as Pokeman, Dragonball Z and transformers. I think for Lucio having another boy here for a week is a rare treat. And Casey loves being somewhere that offers a break from gramma and pappa.

Villa Praiola is a special place because of Vera and Francesco, its special owners, who take pride in offering strangers a beautiful place to live for a week—or more. It is decorated with marvelous taste but remains comfortable and enjoyable—totally relaxing.

It was a wonderful serendipity event which found us here in 2004 and now in 2007 the property has only grown better—a/c in all the rooms, an old building in the pool area has been transformed into an open air rec room with cooking facilities; the antique traditional winery below the villa has had lighting added which makes it much easier to absorb. Many such places have been long destroyed and so seeing this one, cobwebs and all, is like stepping into the past—huge, decaying wine vats, crushing screws, stone fermenting basins and more—everything but the contadino.

In 2004, when I was still keeping a travel website (which I may resurrect when this blog is finito), I wrote a lot about Villa Praiola and provided many pictures. If interested—check here. This is a 2007 photo update.

Created with Paul's flickrSLiDR.

Now—I am off to join Casey and Lucio in a swim. And the sea is opening up—the blue shows and glistens like diamonds—the haze has lifted and I see a sailboat. Beautiful!

If you are interested in the villa, their renting agent is Ville in Italia. My experience with them is that they service clients well and are a business which values integrity.

Since I am writing this and whatever follows with no internet connection, it will be several days before entries are posted. So—travel back in time to catch up.

Chicken Neck Sequel

I should have known not to make light of Collo di Pollo Ripieno--that I would be highlighting my cultural ignorance--something I often get upset about when other people discuss seemingly peculiar aspects of Italy or make generalizations that should not be generalizations. So-of course, I sometimes fall into my own trap. That old "pride cometh before a fall" thing!

This morning in talking with Sara, Nicoletta and Beatrice, I mentioned the chicken head on my plate yesterday. This apparition didn't seem at all strange to them; in fact, they laughed at my reaction and explained that: Collo di Pollo Ripieno is a typical Tuscan dish and is considered quite good. Naturally, the stuffing has many variations, which makes much sense.

The history of this creation comes from centuries of the contindina and master/farmer relationship. Food was usually scarce for farmers as the landlord would take possession of most of the meager crops and livestock. From this grew the need to make use of everything that was edible or could be made edible. Nothing was wasted or thrown out if it could be used for sustenance--including chicken necks.

Now in the 21st century, the subsistence food of stuffed chicken necks is relegated to a prized menu item. Giving one more example of how history has a way of twisting nostalgia into strange shapes--such as the contindinas' old farm houses which are being resurrected into beautifully exquisite Tuscan homes.

So--next time you see Collo di Pollo Ripieno on the menu, give it a try and know you are connecting with history.

?Stuffed Chicken Necks?!

Cibrèo-a very well regarded restaurant in Firenze.

In fact it has three parts--Cibrèo the ristorante for which, I am told, reservations are a must; Cibrèo the trattoria which is next door and has a menu which is made up of parts of the ristorante menu and is less expensive and Cibrèo the cafe which serves most of same foods at a cost somewhere between the ristorante and the trattoria --distinquishing itself by having table clothes and a more upscale atmosphere than the rustic trattoria and a coffee making machine.

Today after dropping into the Uffizi for two hours, we decided to find Trattoria Cibrèo--this trio being located near the San Ambrogio Market. On the way we stopped twice to ask directions--the last time being immediatly across the street from the trattoria door with the newstand lady giving me a rather "that's OK, you're a tourist" look as she pointed. I didn't dare tell her we live here.

There are just a handful of tables in the trattoria--rustically wooden with matching accouterments. The menu is undecipherably handwritten in italiano so we asked for translation--not something we frequently need to do these days while staying within Toscana.

The first secondi was one I have seen on other menues and wondered about--Collo di Pollo Ripieno or Stuffed Chicken Neck. Now, I wondered, "How does one stuff a chicken neck?" Can it be deboned? Is whatever squeezed between the flesh and the little rib like bone structure? Is that whatever shoved under the skin? But then--how would you eat it? As far as I know, the only place one can comfortably eat the meat on a chicken neck is in the privacy of the home kitchen.

So, following last week's adventure with carpaccio di cavallo, I decided "Why not? Go for it."

It wasn't too long until the questions were answered in a most unexpected way. When the plate arrived, there staring at me was an uncooked, marinated chicken head with comb and all. Where it had been separated from its body, it was stuffed with something resembling pate. To complete the effect, some of this delicacy dribbled out its open mouth. The rest of the plate was arranged with slices of this pate and some type of mayonnaise.



I acknowledge that this is not the most appetizing food picture but it's all too good to resist. Unfortunately I didn't think of taking the picture when the head first arrived which I am sure would have given the delicacy more justice.

After eating, we asked for caffe--but they don't have a machine so don't serve it. Quite surprising. We did see later that if you dine in the ristorante, caffe is delivered from the Cafe.

We did discover another excellent but out of the way gelatieri--far better than Perche No or Grom's or Vivaldi in my opinion. It's Il Procopio--Via Pietrapiana 60/62R. Their flavors are very unique, freshly made and memorable. Il Procopio is in the same general area as Cibrèo but closer to the center.