MERRY CHRISTMAS--BUON NATALE

MERRY CHRISTMAS

TO OUR FRIENDS

BUON NATALE

A NOSTRI AMICI


JANE, KEN, CASEY AND SANTA

It's Fun To Be Nine

What does a kid do when it is winter and no one wants lemonade? Well, sell snow, of course. But, then.. if you live in San Diego that is problematic. Quite a quandary for two motivated, imaginative 9-year-olds.

Or what if you are two motivated and imaginative 9-year-olds and you find a gigantic cache of styrofoam packing material and peanuts just sitting in the side yard, begging to be smashed beyond recognition? What fun to get bats and brooms and sticks and beat this pure white treasure into billions of little snowflakes.

Soon you are covered with clingy, non-removable, non-recyclable earth destroying detritus. You have become a snowman that doesn’t melt. And you are having mountains of fun as your laughter erupts throughout the neighborhood.

Gramma and papa might want to be mad at you because surely you are making a mess that you won’t clean. But how can they be when you are so adorably and completely being kids.

The challenge then facing such motivated, imaginative kids is what to do with all this magical substance? Why—sell it of course. Develop entrepreneurial skills. Surely there is a market for people wanting front yards of snow. So—find boxes, pretty metal ones, cardboard, whatever. Dump out what may be in them for surely gramma won’t care. Now, fill with snow—make a sign—beg to go down to the park and set up your stand.

If you are lucky and truly loved, gramma will agree to accompany you, knowing that sales are not going to soar but that children must explore experiences that they create. How else are memories stored for future years?

So, off the three go--two imaginative, creative 9 year olds and one intrigued gramma.

Ah ha! the workout bench in the park--perfect for setting up the wares. The sign--"Christmas Snow for Decoration"--which has been taped to a garden stick pushes nicely into the ground. Boxes are arranged, rearranged, and then arranged again as each child has a vision of how they should look. And then we wait.



No one is in the park. We wait. Suddenly a couple enters at one end so we perk up, smile and wait some more. But---they leave before reaching the store.


Swings and monkey bars begin their siren call. The grassy slopes are great for rolling down. No one wants snow today. Maybe tomorrow.

So our imaginative, creative 9-year-olds, pack up, gramma closes her book and all go home. It has been fun. Who cares if pockets are no heavier? These hours have been a success.

Restaurants In and Around Greve-in-Chianti

I must say and admit--this does not truly qualify as a blog entry--at least not of the kind I usually write, but..........maybe it will be useful to those of you who will be traveling in the area we called home for a wonderful year.

We ate out a lot! Often it was for lunch when Ken and I explored the countryside while Casey was in school. I can not tell you how relaxing and freeing it is to just drive white roads and lanes and then find some place to stop for a good pasta and glass of vino. No worries in the world follow you on such ventures. What a year it was!

As a result, I have compiled a list of restaurants in the greater Greve area. Hopefully this information is for you--because that means you will be there.

I put this together for the Slow Travel website which focuses on a type of travel which allows for greater immersion and understanding of cultures and lifestyles. If you are not aware of this site, you may want to check it out.

So, now, travel to Restaurants in Chianti. The truth is that this is not a complete list of our culinary year--as time permits, it will expand to both more restaurants in the Chianti area and then to other areas within Tuscany and Italy. As I said--we ate out a lot! Enjoy.

Tonight We Had Tacos!

Yes, it was taco night and we had them last week, too. That equaled the total number of times we had them all last year--as Casey dutifully pointed out. Somehow Mexican food, that which we thought we could not live without, faded into the culinary background when competing with the delicacies of Italy.

I so often write of what we miss which isn't quite fair as there are things that we treasure here--now, if I can think of some of them. Let's see--

1. Tacos, burritos, red curry, kung pao, huge artichokes and......corn on the cob.
2. Our church fellowship--somehow Baptist churches are few and far between in Italy-or actually in most of Europe.
3. Our friends of years. New friends are wonderful but can never replace those that have traveled life with you.
4. Scratch--our dog--or rather Casey's dog.
5. Being able to talk with teachers sans interpreter.
6. A big, big refrigerator and freezer.
7. Meat cuts that I understand.
8. Finding clothes that fit my non-size-6 frame.
9. Spending time with our son.
10. Browsing book stores which have books I can read.
11. $'s not €'s.
12. Target for Casey's clothes and Costco jeans for me.
    
13. Canned music (scherzo).
14. Air America.
15. The desert.
16. Dungeness crab.
17. Ability to read and comprehend directions on soap boxes--or anything.
18. Having groceries bagged for me.
19. Freeways rather than toll roads. (I do miss the Auto Grills).
20. Big Christmas trees.
21. Heated swimming pool.
22. Honey Bunches of Oats
23. Heat or a/c that isn't on a schedule.
    
24. And............how about some suggestions from fellow travelers?
25. A fellow traveler addition--and rightly so: The beautiful Pacific Ocean
    

So, have I redeemed myself in the eyes of those who think I spend too much time remembering and wishing? Probably not, as somehow a list doesn't really equate with narratives. But, the simple truth is, Italy demands the rhapsody that the USA has not yet found.

The Old Man and Gelato

Surely on a shelf somewhere exists a book outlining requisite ingredients for books about Tuscany....romantic moments, rapturous flinging open of shutters to morning dew and golden sun, lush purple grapes bursting with future vino, country lanes and charming, smiling "locals." And, of course, the quaint renovation of an ancient farm structure where the pigsty becomes the kitchen and the wine press grows flowers.

It must seem strange to Tuscans that the rest of the world, particularly the English speaking portion, elevates this Italian corner of earth into a synonym for paradise. And--they must laugh at the innocence and naivety of such thoughts. Yes, the beauty is real and the people who have grown up with it do still see it and count their blessings. Yes, the sun does shine golden and yes, people do fling open shutters in the morning and breath in air scented with roses and herbs and grapes and history. Yes, farm houses that once were walls around poverty and hunger now surround riches and banquets. And, yes, Tuscany is magical and wonderful and unlike any other place.

And...life is normal there--pharmacies, butcher shops, supermarkets, book stores, shoe stores, ATM's, gas stations doctors and lawyers. The post office runs everything and is hated by all. Buses always run on time. The telephone company answers to no one and TV is Burlusconi's cultural wasteland. Life passes day-by-day just as it does in China, Canada, Chile and Chicago. And--paradise is still confined to the heaven in the skies.

So--what about The Old Man and Gelato? Well, they are right up there with the things I miss after realizing the dream of millions--a year in Tuscany. And yes--they do fit into that "book of Tuscany" that has been written and rewritten so many times. And I can add these things and more to my I Miss list and would include if I were to write a book of my love affair with fair Toscana-- which I am not going to do.

Sometimes I stand at the sink and a visual flashes across my eyes--unbidden and puzzling--but always bringing a flutter and a smile as I momentarily transport across the sea.

I see girls, children and teenagers, holding hands as they walk down the street, laughing and sharing secrets. I see Casey and Camilla hand-in-hand walking through Sunday market. I am reminded of innocence and purity.


I see women of many decades, arms entwined, walking hills whose every turn and detail they know many times over. They have walked these very hills hundreds of times during 20-30-40-50 years. They talk about I know not what but I imagine it to be children, husbands, crops, dinner, local gossip--probably the same topics the men are covering in the barbershop or on the benches in the sun.

I remember that everyone greets each other, stranger and friend alike, with "buongiorno" as they pass on the sidewalk or enter a store or have unexpected eye contact. This always accompanied with a smile--sometimes broad and sometimes shy. I remember how much I loved this.

And then, as I daydream at my sink, I cut myself on the thumb and reach into the cupboard for one of the treasures I brought back with me--bandaids that really stick and stay on through shampoos and showers. I love them and will bring back lots of them next summer.

Finally for this trip into nostalgia, we come to The Old Man. Every book, every movie about Tuscany features him. It is the tear drop moment. It is the quiet elderly, endearing neighbor man, seemingly untouched and unreached throughout the movie or book, who finally in the denouement offers a shy wave or wink or smile. He is saying "yes, I recognize you and maybe we have a future."

We had our man--from the day we arrived until the day we left. We drove by him day after day as he walked along the river walk. Within a week or two of arriving at our new home, we started sending him a smile and wave each time we passed. He would give us a quizzical look and then continue his walk or go on chatting with a companion. We really expected that someday he would fulfill his obligation and wave to us and share his smile but that never happened. The last day, on the way to the airport was his last chance and we left without it. Our hope was left unfulfilled, leaving room for a new experience when we return.


And gelato? Well, isn't that at the top of everyone's list? Maybe even the Old Man's.