Over the past 12 ½ weeks Cortona has become my tiny world. Like a princess in a tower, I sit on this ancient hill, safe and protected, the world spread at my feet with Cortona’s army of archers ready to do battle at the first hint of danger. I have been sheltered in my hilltop bower while I grow and begin to blossom.
I will forever have special memories of Italy, especially Cortona, etched in my mind’s eye. Awaking to the enthusiastic song of a choir of birds, and the pealing of church bells calling the devout to prayer. Watching a pigeon poking the ground for tidbits or tottering along with it’s head bobbing rapidly back and forth like a child’s wind-up toy. My tongue discovering a rich and chocolaty ribbon of Nutella in my creamy gelato. Praying in a simple church of stone and in a towering cathedral of silver and gold. The gentle eyes of the Madonna in her glowing mantle of blue, and the haunted eyes of her dying son suffering for the salvation of humanity. Tears pouring down my face as I encounter the grace of La Santa. The rat-ta-tat-tat of snare drums and the heralding trumpets of the marching band practicing at 10:00 PM every Monday evening. Five craggy-faced men huddled around a stroller outside the barber shop cooing at a tiny infant with a wrinkled face. Tiny cups of very strong espresso. The hazy Tuscan light settling gently over the brilliant green countryside like a lover’s embrace. Slim pieces of salty pizza, warmed, folded lovingly, and placed in a white paper sack. Stacks of salty, crispy, garlicky porchetta mounded on a crusty roll. Watching swallows dart and swirl in joyful exhuberance over terracotta tiled rooftops like dancers in an aerial ballet. Three cheeked kisses, shoulder rubs, and warm cries of, “Buon Giorno!”. Walking in the park overlooking the valley, while a gentle sun kisses my face or a soft rain baptizes my soul. Snuggling warmly under a downy comforter while wearing knitted gloves. Red wine, delicious salty olives, and crunchy biscotti. Giggling with wonderful new friends. Generous people who have welcomed me warmly, and treated me kindly. And a curly-haired, dark-eyed man with a pointed goatee crouching to hug a small boy so tenderly.
Arrivederci….you will be missed… per sempre.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Dinner and a Gift
The skies clouded over yesterday afternoon and it looked like rain. A slightly cooler wind settled over the mountain relieving a bit of the terrible humidity and heat we’ve been suffering.
A couple of interesting things happened yesterday. First of all, I trotted up the hill to buy my very last porchetta sandwich from the handsome porchetta man, who was kind enough to introduce me to his WIFE. She was polite, though not overly friendly, and I could hear him babbling away to her about how I speak English and taught him some English words. I do believe he was defending himself although there was no reason. American woman have a reputation here of “giving it away”, although I can assure you I’ve not given a darned thing away to the porchetta man or any other.
Next I ran into one of my new friends, Perry, from England. We wandered down via Nazionale, talking, and came to a stop, still talking, in front of Bar Signorelli where I drink coffee. The man that works in the morning, Claudio, walked out of the bar and stopped in front of Perry and me and gave us a long, hard look. Then he looked at Perry and said loudly, “She’s my friend.” and extended his hand to shake mine, but not Perry’s. Being the innocent I am, I’m thinking, “Awww, how sweet.” My friend Terri, the resident expert on the Italian male, had a slightly different take on it. “Ohhhh”, she said, “He was warning Perry.” So, that brings me to the question of why. Claudio has never touched me or made such strong eye contact with me before so why now? I asked Laura and Maria what they thought as we drove out of Cortona to a restaurant on the mountain, and they both thought he was being protective. A “you can go out with her, but she’s my friend and you’d better behave yourself” sort of thing. It was actually kind of sweet that someone is concerned enough to look out for my well-being.
Dinner was heavenly! We drove to Castel Girardi, a family-run pizzeria and ristorante high upon the hill, where we had reservations to dine on the terrace. We arrived shortly after 7:30 and walked around the side of the stone building to a covered terrace overlooking the tree-covered valley. The entrance was decorated with roses in bloom and the low stone walls surrounding the terrace were decorated with bright red geraniums in terracotta planters. Tables were decorated with gold linens and lit by antique-style lanterns. I took some pictures of Laura and Maria, who were both dressed beautifully; Laura in a white halter dress and Maria in a black skirt and pretty top. I, of course, was wearing jeans since they are all I possess, and a black top.
The sunlight gently faded as we sampled an appetizer of wild boar and thinly sliced ostrich, followed by a pizza for me, rabbit with truffles for Laura, and a salad with prosciutto for Maria. The food was outstanding and Maria treated us to a bottle of a wonderful red wine, a Syrah, which I have never tried before. The table was ours for the evening so there was no hurry for us to depart and we talked, drank, and laughed until nearly 11:00. I enjoyed listening to the Italian guests at other tables, talking and laughing so comfortably with family and friends. The many children were quiet and well-behaved, and even the resident cats were polite!
After dinner we drove home slowly on the drk, narrow, twisty road and then Laura and I ran over to the gelateria and bought a container with 4 different types of gelato. My favorite gelato guy even included some biscotti (cookies) for us to nibble along with the creamy, sweet gelato. I brought out my computer and shared some of the beautiful pictures I have taken, including the ones I took at the medieval wedding which they attended with me. After hugs and thanks yous I finally headed for bed at 12:30….and didn’t sleep more than 3 hours. It’s just too hot and maybe I am a little too emotional these days to really sleep well.
This morning I went to Bar Signorelli for coffee as usual, and when I left the sweet lady squeezed my hand, gave me a double cheeked kiss, thanked me for everything, and asked when I was returning. Claudio also kissed me farewell and gifted me with a bottle of Chianti with wishes that I would think of them as I enjoyed it. You can be sure I will always treasure such kindness. Today I feel loved.
A couple of interesting things happened yesterday. First of all, I trotted up the hill to buy my very last porchetta sandwich from the handsome porchetta man, who was kind enough to introduce me to his WIFE. She was polite, though not overly friendly, and I could hear him babbling away to her about how I speak English and taught him some English words. I do believe he was defending himself although there was no reason. American woman have a reputation here of “giving it away”, although I can assure you I’ve not given a darned thing away to the porchetta man or any other.
Next I ran into one of my new friends, Perry, from England. We wandered down via Nazionale, talking, and came to a stop, still talking, in front of Bar Signorelli where I drink coffee. The man that works in the morning, Claudio, walked out of the bar and stopped in front of Perry and me and gave us a long, hard look. Then he looked at Perry and said loudly, “She’s my friend.” and extended his hand to shake mine, but not Perry’s. Being the innocent I am, I’m thinking, “Awww, how sweet.” My friend Terri, the resident expert on the Italian male, had a slightly different take on it. “Ohhhh”, she said, “He was warning Perry.” So, that brings me to the question of why. Claudio has never touched me or made such strong eye contact with me before so why now? I asked Laura and Maria what they thought as we drove out of Cortona to a restaurant on the mountain, and they both thought he was being protective. A “you can go out with her, but she’s my friend and you’d better behave yourself” sort of thing. It was actually kind of sweet that someone is concerned enough to look out for my well-being.
Dinner was heavenly! We drove to Castel Girardi, a family-run pizzeria and ristorante high upon the hill, where we had reservations to dine on the terrace. We arrived shortly after 7:30 and walked around the side of the stone building to a covered terrace overlooking the tree-covered valley. The entrance was decorated with roses in bloom and the low stone walls surrounding the terrace were decorated with bright red geraniums in terracotta planters. Tables were decorated with gold linens and lit by antique-style lanterns. I took some pictures of Laura and Maria, who were both dressed beautifully; Laura in a white halter dress and Maria in a black skirt and pretty top. I, of course, was wearing jeans since they are all I possess, and a black top.
The sunlight gently faded as we sampled an appetizer of wild boar and thinly sliced ostrich, followed by a pizza for me, rabbit with truffles for Laura, and a salad with prosciutto for Maria. The food was outstanding and Maria treated us to a bottle of a wonderful red wine, a Syrah, which I have never tried before. The table was ours for the evening so there was no hurry for us to depart and we talked, drank, and laughed until nearly 11:00. I enjoyed listening to the Italian guests at other tables, talking and laughing so comfortably with family and friends. The many children were quiet and well-behaved, and even the resident cats were polite!
After dinner we drove home slowly on the drk, narrow, twisty road and then Laura and I ran over to the gelateria and bought a container with 4 different types of gelato. My favorite gelato guy even included some biscotti (cookies) for us to nibble along with the creamy, sweet gelato. I brought out my computer and shared some of the beautiful pictures I have taken, including the ones I took at the medieval wedding which they attended with me. After hugs and thanks yous I finally headed for bed at 12:30….and didn’t sleep more than 3 hours. It’s just too hot and maybe I am a little too emotional these days to really sleep well.
This morning I went to Bar Signorelli for coffee as usual, and when I left the sweet lady squeezed my hand, gave me a double cheeked kiss, thanked me for everything, and asked when I was returning. Claudio also kissed me farewell and gifted me with a bottle of Chianti with wishes that I would think of them as I enjoyed it. You can be sure I will always treasure such kindness. Today I feel loved.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
A Special Day
My friend, Terri, and I went to Firenze yesterday. We walked down to Piazza Garibaldi and caught the 8:45 bus to the Camucia stazione and then the 9:31 train to Florence. From there we walked across a couple of streets and around a corner to the bus station and bought a bus ticket for the Peretola airport shuttle bus to save me the expense of taking a taxi on Tuesday. A friend of Terri’s had explained to her where the shuttle bus to the airport was located so she could show me. He was a huge help and a great source of information!
Both Terri and I had some things we wanted to shop for in Florence so we headed for the San Lorenzo market. It was fun to browse the myriad clothing, jewelry, hat, and leather vendors. It was quite hot and I couldn’t even stand to look at the leather jackets. One vendor really annoyed me by stepping out into the street, looking at me, and saying, “Hey, I got your size!” I figured his size was about a 9mm, which I’d have used to shoot him on the spot, if I’d had one. We stopped for coffee and laughed at a food stand which advertised various kinds of chocolate with “weap cream”. I am always tempted to offer my English grammar and spelling translation services to businesses in return for a discount.
Terri bought two pair of shoes and some guitar strings at a music shop and I found a couple of English paperback books by authors I’ve come to enjoy to take with me until I can locate something to read in Germany. We stopped for lunch on a side street at a trattoria called Ristorante Mamma Gina. It was close to 2:00 so only a few people were in the restaurant and we were lead to a table set with sparkling wine glasses on a soft yellow tablecloth. I asked for the restroom and the waiter asked if I wanted it with or without a “doccia”, shower. Now, rather than “doccia” I heard the word “dolce”, meaning sweet so I didn’t understand the joke. Terri understands Italian and was able to banter back and forth with the distinguished looking waiter. In fact, they had a bit of a flirtation going on. She is very good at flirting and is trying to teach me, but I’m afraid I am a poor student. We both ordered an appetizer, crostini for Terri and bruschetta, toasted bread rubbed with garlic and covered with chopped tomatoes, basil, and olive oil, for me. For my main course I had tagliatelle with bolognese sauce and Terri had an incredible-looking eggplant Parmigiano, which she said was outstanding. It was one of the best meals I have had in Italy and we enjoyed a nice conversation with lots of giggles.
Our next stop was at every glittering jewelry shop on the Ponte Vecchio, of which there are many, and several more on the street leading to the bridge. I wanted to purchase a white-gold pendant of the symbol of Firenze, the “giglio”, which is a stylized iris. I found a small one I liked and shopped for the best price at three shops before making my purchase. It’s just beautiful and is a wonderful memory of a beautiful city and a special day. I will include a picture to the right so you can see what the giglio looks like.
We stopped for gelato before catching our very crowded, and thankfully air-conditioned, train home. After a 30 minute wait in Camucia we caught the bus to Cortona. Today our train tickets and bus tickets were both checked by a conductor. Terri said that, in 7 years of living here, her bus ticket has never been inspected before. She also said she was so tired after plopping in her seat that she very nearly did not dig for, and validate, her ticket, which would have resulted in a 25 euro ($41) on the spot fine!
We were both exhausted from the heat and crowds in Florence, but stopped at the Tuscher Bar for some appetizers and wine. We had such a good conversation that it was midnight before we left!
Both Terri and I had some things we wanted to shop for in Florence so we headed for the San Lorenzo market. It was fun to browse the myriad clothing, jewelry, hat, and leather vendors. It was quite hot and I couldn’t even stand to look at the leather jackets. One vendor really annoyed me by stepping out into the street, looking at me, and saying, “Hey, I got your size!” I figured his size was about a 9mm, which I’d have used to shoot him on the spot, if I’d had one. We stopped for coffee and laughed at a food stand which advertised various kinds of chocolate with “weap cream”. I am always tempted to offer my English grammar and spelling translation services to businesses in return for a discount.
Terri bought two pair of shoes and some guitar strings at a music shop and I found a couple of English paperback books by authors I’ve come to enjoy to take with me until I can locate something to read in Germany. We stopped for lunch on a side street at a trattoria called Ristorante Mamma Gina. It was close to 2:00 so only a few people were in the restaurant and we were lead to a table set with sparkling wine glasses on a soft yellow tablecloth. I asked for the restroom and the waiter asked if I wanted it with or without a “doccia”, shower. Now, rather than “doccia” I heard the word “dolce”, meaning sweet so I didn’t understand the joke. Terri understands Italian and was able to banter back and forth with the distinguished looking waiter. In fact, they had a bit of a flirtation going on. She is very good at flirting and is trying to teach me, but I’m afraid I am a poor student. We both ordered an appetizer, crostini for Terri and bruschetta, toasted bread rubbed with garlic and covered with chopped tomatoes, basil, and olive oil, for me. For my main course I had tagliatelle with bolognese sauce and Terri had an incredible-looking eggplant Parmigiano, which she said was outstanding. It was one of the best meals I have had in Italy and we enjoyed a nice conversation with lots of giggles.
Our next stop was at every glittering jewelry shop on the Ponte Vecchio, of which there are many, and several more on the street leading to the bridge. I wanted to purchase a white-gold pendant of the symbol of Firenze, the “giglio”, which is a stylized iris. I found a small one I liked and shopped for the best price at three shops before making my purchase. It’s just beautiful and is a wonderful memory of a beautiful city and a special day. I will include a picture to the right so you can see what the giglio looks like.
We stopped for gelato before catching our very crowded, and thankfully air-conditioned, train home. After a 30 minute wait in Camucia we caught the bus to Cortona. Today our train tickets and bus tickets were both checked by a conductor. Terri said that, in 7 years of living here, her bus ticket has never been inspected before. She also said she was so tired after plopping in her seat that she very nearly did not dig for, and validate, her ticket, which would have resulted in a 25 euro ($41) on the spot fine!
We were both exhausted from the heat and crowds in Florence, but stopped at the Tuscher Bar for some appetizers and wine. We had such a good conversation that it was midnight before we left!
Kindnesses
Last night I met a friend for pizza; proscuitto and artichoke for her and my favorite crostone for me. We sat at a covered outdoor table and spent 3 ½ hours eating, drinking red wine, and talking “girl talk” finally dragging ourselves home shortly after midnight. I really like her and it’s refreshing to talk to someone who’s so interesting, open-minded, and is in a similar place in her life. She is also my age and has like spiritual beliefs which gives us a lot of common ground. I stopped by the shop where she works today and invited her to Florence with me on her day off tomorrow. I thought she might not accept as she only has one day a week off on which to do personal things, but she said she’d like to come. We’ll meet at the bus stop in the morning for the 8:45 to Camucia. I am really looking forward to tomorrow!
After my late night I was hoping to sleep peacefully, however it was hot and I had a couple glasses of red wine coursing through my veins which left me dozing fitfully until early this morning when I was awakened by a very loud male voice at 7 AM. I sleepily dragged myself to the window overlooking via Roma, quietly unlocked the window, climbed atop the twin bed situated under the window, and leaned out over the wide stone windowsill to have a look at the goings-on. A middle-aged, shirtless man with wild hair was hanging out of his second floor window across the street and to the right of me. He was yelling stridently in Italian and gesticulating wildly at an elderly woman on the third floor directly across from me who was grunting back at him. I have no idea what the argument was about or how it started as I could not understand a single word. I noticed the curious heads of spectators popping out of windows all along via Roma and was surprised that the carabinieri didn’t appear to defuse the situation. As I was already awake, I decided to talk a walk before the sun gained its full strength. I was tired however, and could only complete a short circuit of the park. I will need to walk again this evening to meet my fitness goal. I seem to be eating more lately, so walking a certain distance each day has become a priority.
I am still doing some sorting and cleaning in preparation for my departure. I just do a little each day in addition to my normal chores. The heat is still uncomfortably hot and the sun blinding where it beats down on the paved streets and thus I move languorously doing just a bit at a time or lying under the fan with a book. The Val di Chiana is nearly always hazy with the famed Tuscan light these days, although the little side valley where I like to read is clear, green, and covered with trees.
There is an elderly man in town that always stops me to talk about the weather. He has thin white hair and dark, sparkly eyes which crinkle up in friendliness as he talks to me. He looks like such a happy person and I enjoy chatting with him, even if I don’t understand much of what he tells me. He likely doesn’t understand me either, but he always makes a point to talk with me when he sees me and I appreciate his gesture of kindness. I want to have a face etched by a liftime of joy, like he has.
After my late night I was hoping to sleep peacefully, however it was hot and I had a couple glasses of red wine coursing through my veins which left me dozing fitfully until early this morning when I was awakened by a very loud male voice at 7 AM. I sleepily dragged myself to the window overlooking via Roma, quietly unlocked the window, climbed atop the twin bed situated under the window, and leaned out over the wide stone windowsill to have a look at the goings-on. A middle-aged, shirtless man with wild hair was hanging out of his second floor window across the street and to the right of me. He was yelling stridently in Italian and gesticulating wildly at an elderly woman on the third floor directly across from me who was grunting back at him. I have no idea what the argument was about or how it started as I could not understand a single word. I noticed the curious heads of spectators popping out of windows all along via Roma and was surprised that the carabinieri didn’t appear to defuse the situation. As I was already awake, I decided to talk a walk before the sun gained its full strength. I was tired however, and could only complete a short circuit of the park. I will need to walk again this evening to meet my fitness goal. I seem to be eating more lately, so walking a certain distance each day has become a priority.
I am still doing some sorting and cleaning in preparation for my departure. I just do a little each day in addition to my normal chores. The heat is still uncomfortably hot and the sun blinding where it beats down on the paved streets and thus I move languorously doing just a bit at a time or lying under the fan with a book. The Val di Chiana is nearly always hazy with the famed Tuscan light these days, although the little side valley where I like to read is clear, green, and covered with trees.
There is an elderly man in town that always stops me to talk about the weather. He has thin white hair and dark, sparkly eyes which crinkle up in friendliness as he talks to me. He looks like such a happy person and I enjoy chatting with him, even if I don’t understand much of what he tells me. He likely doesn’t understand me either, but he always makes a point to talk with me when he sees me and I appreciate his gesture of kindness. I want to have a face etched by a liftime of joy, like he has.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Wine, Weight, and Marionettes
I learned something new today! One of the ladies at the café’ where I take my morning coffee is not Italian, she is from Albania and is the cousin of the beautiful lady at the ceramic shop. I hadn’t realized that, so it was quite a surprise to me. They are both very, very pretty, but I would not have thought they were related.
Today’s forecast is for very hot weather, so I went walking at 8 AM this morning and still came back drenched in perspiration, my jeans stuck uncomfortably to my legs like a second skin. I now wear my most revealing shirt with no camisole because it is just too warm to wear it any other way. Heat can remove all modesty!
I am reaching that critical point in my fitness and weight loss that usually defeats me. I have lost weight, feel much healthier, and can wear smaller clothes; however I essentially still look the same. People who see me daily cannot tell I’ve lost weight and the same funny face looks back at me from the mirror each morning. I really haven’t changed at all. After all, what’s a weight loss of 20 pounds when you need to lose 80, 30 pounds when you need to lose 130? I begin to ask myself if the pain, sweat, and hard work are really worth it. I think anyone who has lost a moderate to large amount of weight has asked themselves these questions. Is saggy, stretched out skin really any more attractive than puffed out cellulite? I’d all like to think that a beautiful butterfly will reveal itself when the cocoon of fat is shed, but really, it could just as well be a drab, gray moth which emerges. I wonder if it’s different for men, for whom society has a more relaxed standard of beauty, and who, by virtue of their superior muscle mass, are able to shed weight so much more quickly.
My weight loss has caused a problem: my wardrobe. In spite of some dear friends sending me some new clothes, I still have little to wear. It’s too hot to wear some things, and I need cotton for exercising, which has severely restricted my selection. I have several items to grow in to, but they don’t really help me now. And let me tell you, I am so tired of a few of those shirts I’d like to burn them! I have three pairs of jeans I can wear, but only 1 of them actually fits and looks nice. The others are all baggy in the legs and seat, and will have to be retired soon.
I am going for pizza with a friend tonight. The second friend cannot join us as he must work. I had a drink with both of them and a third person last night. I had a glass of wine and proceeded to get a major case of the giggles. The one man in the group shared a story about his mother, who was hiking in the mountains of Wales with his sister and their Border Collie. Now, Border Collies are sheep dogs and this one did what sheep dogs do; ran off and tried to herd a flock of sheep. The ram of the flock was having no part of it and chased the dog who promptly made a beeline to its mistress for protection. The ram continued to charge and in doing so brushed this man’s mother and snagged her handbag on his horns. She spent the next two hours chasing the ram, and the handbag, all over the countryside. I found this story hysterically funny and proceeded to giggle and cackle with an unnecessary amount of enthusiasm whilst my companions gaped at me in alarm. I really shouldn’t drink.
The marionettes reared their ugly heads’ yet again. As I walked to the park the other day to read my book in the shade, one of them popped out of a bush and threw a nice, hot, sticky wad of gum under my left shoe which I failed to notice until I sat down on a bench and discovered that I had about a pound of pea gravel firmly affixed to the gum on the bottom of my shoe. Because the park was busy and I didn’t want anyone to see what had happened I tried to scrape my shoe surreptitiously on the cement near the fence with no success. I finally had to resort to dragging my foot against the pavement making this hideous scraping noise all the way back to via Nazionale. Incidentally, that hunk of gum refuses to come off my shoe despite the application of myriad cleaning products and a scrub brush specially purchased just for that purpose. The horrible pair got me good that time!
Today’s forecast is for very hot weather, so I went walking at 8 AM this morning and still came back drenched in perspiration, my jeans stuck uncomfortably to my legs like a second skin. I now wear my most revealing shirt with no camisole because it is just too warm to wear it any other way. Heat can remove all modesty!
I am reaching that critical point in my fitness and weight loss that usually defeats me. I have lost weight, feel much healthier, and can wear smaller clothes; however I essentially still look the same. People who see me daily cannot tell I’ve lost weight and the same funny face looks back at me from the mirror each morning. I really haven’t changed at all. After all, what’s a weight loss of 20 pounds when you need to lose 80, 30 pounds when you need to lose 130? I begin to ask myself if the pain, sweat, and hard work are really worth it. I think anyone who has lost a moderate to large amount of weight has asked themselves these questions. Is saggy, stretched out skin really any more attractive than puffed out cellulite? I’d all like to think that a beautiful butterfly will reveal itself when the cocoon of fat is shed, but really, it could just as well be a drab, gray moth which emerges. I wonder if it’s different for men, for whom society has a more relaxed standard of beauty, and who, by virtue of their superior muscle mass, are able to shed weight so much more quickly.
My weight loss has caused a problem: my wardrobe. In spite of some dear friends sending me some new clothes, I still have little to wear. It’s too hot to wear some things, and I need cotton for exercising, which has severely restricted my selection. I have several items to grow in to, but they don’t really help me now. And let me tell you, I am so tired of a few of those shirts I’d like to burn them! I have three pairs of jeans I can wear, but only 1 of them actually fits and looks nice. The others are all baggy in the legs and seat, and will have to be retired soon.
I am going for pizza with a friend tonight. The second friend cannot join us as he must work. I had a drink with both of them and a third person last night. I had a glass of wine and proceeded to get a major case of the giggles. The one man in the group shared a story about his mother, who was hiking in the mountains of Wales with his sister and their Border Collie. Now, Border Collies are sheep dogs and this one did what sheep dogs do; ran off and tried to herd a flock of sheep. The ram of the flock was having no part of it and chased the dog who promptly made a beeline to its mistress for protection. The ram continued to charge and in doing so brushed this man’s mother and snagged her handbag on his horns. She spent the next two hours chasing the ram, and the handbag, all over the countryside. I found this story hysterically funny and proceeded to giggle and cackle with an unnecessary amount of enthusiasm whilst my companions gaped at me in alarm. I really shouldn’t drink.
The marionettes reared their ugly heads’ yet again. As I walked to the park the other day to read my book in the shade, one of them popped out of a bush and threw a nice, hot, sticky wad of gum under my left shoe which I failed to notice until I sat down on a bench and discovered that I had about a pound of pea gravel firmly affixed to the gum on the bottom of my shoe. Because the park was busy and I didn’t want anyone to see what had happened I tried to scrape my shoe surreptitiously on the cement near the fence with no success. I finally had to resort to dragging my foot against the pavement making this hideous scraping noise all the way back to via Nazionale. Incidentally, that hunk of gum refuses to come off my shoe despite the application of myriad cleaning products and a scrub brush specially purchased just for that purpose. The horrible pair got me good that time!
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Fede e Bambini, Faith and Children
Children are absolutely cherished in Italy. Everything stops when an infant or small child comes into the bar where I have coffee each morning. The ladies, one in particular, make a huge fuss talking to, and playing with, the little ones. Parents here are incredibly patient and tolerant. The waiter, for example, often sits in the café’ with his little boy and they play together; games, action figures, cars, whatever. He will patiently get up and walk around the table to pick up the Black Power Ranger action figure time and again as it falls to the floor. I must admit that after about 2 times I’d have made the little one pick it up himself. I laugh to hear the range of sound effects that little guy makes while playing, including a rather disturbing, deep, gruff voice. He is 100% B O Y! I’ve also watched as the waiter stands by patiently, back turned, while the little boy sits on a step behind him pitching a little fit. I could learn a lot about patience from the Italians, and it makes this one man, in particular, much more attractive to me.
In spite of the love Italians bestow about their little ones, I am amazed by what I perceive as a lack of safety consciousness when it comes to traveling by car. I often see toddlers and even infants sitting on a parent’s lap or moving around the car unrestrained, something which is a rare sight, although not unheard of, in the United States. I was horrified to see a pre-school aged child standing unrestrained in the front seat of a small car, hands on the dash board, as the mother careened down via Roma’s hill in the dark. Had a car pulled out from a side street causing her to slam on the brakes, that beautiful child would have flown through the windshield, something which still makes the hair on my neck stand up when I think about it. I have also witnessed a toddler, no helmet, being held in front of an adult on a motorcycle. While this biker was in the center of town and driving very slowly, bikers tend to drive extremely fast here and often down the center line between lanes of traffic. I tend to say a little prayer and avert my eyes when I see such risks being taken with small children as it truly terrifies me.
I walked down via Roma to take my trash to the dumpster last night at about 10:30 and was rewarded with a gift. There are a number of sewer openings covered with thick metal bars along the center of the downward sloping streets in town and to either side of every gate in the city walls. I stepped to the right side of the gate at the foot of via Roma, to let a car precede me, and looked down toward the gutter to see, of all things, money. Twenty-four American dollars, folded together in three separate piles, just lying atop the grating! It hasn’t rained in about a week, nor has it been windy, so how the money came to be lying there in plain view is a mystery for which I am very thankful. I gratefully took it as a sign of abundance from the Universe. The money was there only for me to find as a demonstration that I will thrive financially. Although I have no income now, this incredible experience will open new doors, financial and otherwise, for me. I need only to demonstrate gratitude, have faith, and continue to grow and learn. I am sure love will find me one day too.
In spite of the love Italians bestow about their little ones, I am amazed by what I perceive as a lack of safety consciousness when it comes to traveling by car. I often see toddlers and even infants sitting on a parent’s lap or moving around the car unrestrained, something which is a rare sight, although not unheard of, in the United States. I was horrified to see a pre-school aged child standing unrestrained in the front seat of a small car, hands on the dash board, as the mother careened down via Roma’s hill in the dark. Had a car pulled out from a side street causing her to slam on the brakes, that beautiful child would have flown through the windshield, something which still makes the hair on my neck stand up when I think about it. I have also witnessed a toddler, no helmet, being held in front of an adult on a motorcycle. While this biker was in the center of town and driving very slowly, bikers tend to drive extremely fast here and often down the center line between lanes of traffic. I tend to say a little prayer and avert my eyes when I see such risks being taken with small children as it truly terrifies me.
I walked down via Roma to take my trash to the dumpster last night at about 10:30 and was rewarded with a gift. There are a number of sewer openings covered with thick metal bars along the center of the downward sloping streets in town and to either side of every gate in the city walls. I stepped to the right side of the gate at the foot of via Roma, to let a car precede me, and looked down toward the gutter to see, of all things, money. Twenty-four American dollars, folded together in three separate piles, just lying atop the grating! It hasn’t rained in about a week, nor has it been windy, so how the money came to be lying there in plain view is a mystery for which I am very thankful. I gratefully took it as a sign of abundance from the Universe. The money was there only for me to find as a demonstration that I will thrive financially. Although I have no income now, this incredible experience will open new doors, financial and otherwise, for me. I need only to demonstrate gratitude, have faith, and continue to grow and learn. I am sure love will find me one day too.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Connecting
I ran into an acquaintance, a friend of a friend, on Friday and we stopped by a small bar for drinks and conversation. I didn’t know him very well beforehand, but we found we enjoy each other’s sense of humor, especially after a glass of wine or two! It was nice to have the company of another person to alleviate my solitude. We discussed going for pizza with another friend before I leave. I’d really like that! How lucky I have been to meet such nice people!
On my way home I stopped to choose some smaller pieces of ceramics to take home as gifts. The man working at the shop gave me a small discount. I asked if it was because I was so cute, and he said that it was. More likely it’s because I am a multiple repeat customer and he is a kind man (and a good hip-wiggler). Either way, it was very nice.
I also made the acquaintance of a couple from Canada, Jean and Gordon, several times and we’ve had some long and interesting conversations. I happened to look out my kitchen window yesterday and there they were standing in my alley taking pictures! I invited them up to see the apartment and we exchanged contact information. They invited me to stop and visit if ever I find myself in Canada. I really enjoyed talking with both of them and we shared a hug as we parted. They departed for home early this morning. I wish them a safe trip!
I stopped to visit my favorite porchetta man yesterday, and his co-worker must have been concerned that I was nutritionally compromised because he piled at least twice the usual amount of pork on my panino. After all, it wouldn’t do for me to grow weak on my 50 yard journey around the corner to my house, would it? Maybe that’s how butchers flirt; a little extra porchetta here, an extra slice of proscuitto there, or perhaps an extra juicy chicken liver (yuck) on the side. Unfortunately, I did manage to eat the entire garlicky sandwich in one sitting with absolutely no problem!
The heat is getting more intense day by day, or perhaps I am just becoming more sensitive to it. Just like in Texas, my face turns shiny and my make-up melts off before I can even finish applying it. I spend the most of the day feeling pale, wilted, droopy, and damp. The humidity makes my fine hair crazy…it gets curly in some places and stick straight in others. It’s not quite so uncomfortable inside the apartment…the thick stone walls keep the worst of the heat at bay, however my peri-menopausal body just does not adapt to heat changes well. Just a couple months ago I was sleeping in gloves and socks and now I prefer to run around stark naked. I made a wonderful, cool salad of lettuce, tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, olive oil and balsamic vinegar for dinner, but rounded it out with a couple pieces of pizza from the carry-out pizza place.
In preparation for leaving, I have been doing some extra cleaning around the apartment. I don’t want to leave Maria with a huge mess to clean up after I’ve gone. It’s amazing how fast a thick layer of dust can build up. I have been unable to locate bleach at our local store and my white socks are turning a progressively darker shade of gray. Maria tells me that it’s called “ace” in Italian, but still, I can only locate color safe “ace”. Maybe I need to wait until I get to Germany, or make another foray to the Coop in Camucia which has a much larger selection of everything.
I am excited to say that I am able to shoe-horn myself into my smallest pair of pants…a pair which I could not even get pulled up 2 ½ weeks ago, when I first received them! My smallest shirts get just a tiny bit looser each day, so in a month or two I should be able to wear them comfortably. I am thrilled to shed any weight as I have been unable to lose any at all in about 2 years and no more than 5 pounds in the last 4 years. Stress, lack of rest, fast food, middle-age, and a sedentary lifestyle have taken their toll on my body. It feels so good to be healthy and fit, comparatively speaking. I never liked how my weight limited my life. There were so many things I would not do and places I would not go because of my appearance and level of fitness. I am not completely over that yet, but it is getting better. I no longer cringe at the sight of a hill or the thought of walking more than 2 blocks. It’s horrible to have your weight or some other health issue determine what you can and can’t do with your own life. It’s like living in shackles. Because I pretty much each what I want, when I want it, I am not thinking about food every waking moment like when I used to “diet”. I just eat smaller portions; healthier, more organic foods; few snacks or fast foods; and while I sauté foods in olive oil, I have only eaten deep fried foods twice in 3 months.
Losing weight still brings up other issues…..Parts of me of saggier than they were and I don’t like that at all. Also, I suspect that attention from men will increase and I will no longer have my safe “filter” to help weed out people who might harm me emotionally. I guess part of my transformation is learning to stop hiding and confront my life, and my choices, head-on.
The waiter smiled at me today. Of course, I then noticed him checking out a slim, toned woman in a form fitting outfit who walked in the café’ after me. Oh well. One day I might get some admiring glances, too, but I am afraid they won’t be from the him.
On my way home I stopped to choose some smaller pieces of ceramics to take home as gifts. The man working at the shop gave me a small discount. I asked if it was because I was so cute, and he said that it was. More likely it’s because I am a multiple repeat customer and he is a kind man (and a good hip-wiggler). Either way, it was very nice.
I also made the acquaintance of a couple from Canada, Jean and Gordon, several times and we’ve had some long and interesting conversations. I happened to look out my kitchen window yesterday and there they were standing in my alley taking pictures! I invited them up to see the apartment and we exchanged contact information. They invited me to stop and visit if ever I find myself in Canada. I really enjoyed talking with both of them and we shared a hug as we parted. They departed for home early this morning. I wish them a safe trip!
I stopped to visit my favorite porchetta man yesterday, and his co-worker must have been concerned that I was nutritionally compromised because he piled at least twice the usual amount of pork on my panino. After all, it wouldn’t do for me to grow weak on my 50 yard journey around the corner to my house, would it? Maybe that’s how butchers flirt; a little extra porchetta here, an extra slice of proscuitto there, or perhaps an extra juicy chicken liver (yuck) on the side. Unfortunately, I did manage to eat the entire garlicky sandwich in one sitting with absolutely no problem!
The heat is getting more intense day by day, or perhaps I am just becoming more sensitive to it. Just like in Texas, my face turns shiny and my make-up melts off before I can even finish applying it. I spend the most of the day feeling pale, wilted, droopy, and damp. The humidity makes my fine hair crazy…it gets curly in some places and stick straight in others. It’s not quite so uncomfortable inside the apartment…the thick stone walls keep the worst of the heat at bay, however my peri-menopausal body just does not adapt to heat changes well. Just a couple months ago I was sleeping in gloves and socks and now I prefer to run around stark naked. I made a wonderful, cool salad of lettuce, tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, olive oil and balsamic vinegar for dinner, but rounded it out with a couple pieces of pizza from the carry-out pizza place.
In preparation for leaving, I have been doing some extra cleaning around the apartment. I don’t want to leave Maria with a huge mess to clean up after I’ve gone. It’s amazing how fast a thick layer of dust can build up. I have been unable to locate bleach at our local store and my white socks are turning a progressively darker shade of gray. Maria tells me that it’s called “ace” in Italian, but still, I can only locate color safe “ace”. Maybe I need to wait until I get to Germany, or make another foray to the Coop in Camucia which has a much larger selection of everything.
I am excited to say that I am able to shoe-horn myself into my smallest pair of pants…a pair which I could not even get pulled up 2 ½ weeks ago, when I first received them! My smallest shirts get just a tiny bit looser each day, so in a month or two I should be able to wear them comfortably. I am thrilled to shed any weight as I have been unable to lose any at all in about 2 years and no more than 5 pounds in the last 4 years. Stress, lack of rest, fast food, middle-age, and a sedentary lifestyle have taken their toll on my body. It feels so good to be healthy and fit, comparatively speaking. I never liked how my weight limited my life. There were so many things I would not do and places I would not go because of my appearance and level of fitness. I am not completely over that yet, but it is getting better. I no longer cringe at the sight of a hill or the thought of walking more than 2 blocks. It’s horrible to have your weight or some other health issue determine what you can and can’t do with your own life. It’s like living in shackles. Because I pretty much each what I want, when I want it, I am not thinking about food every waking moment like when I used to “diet”. I just eat smaller portions; healthier, more organic foods; few snacks or fast foods; and while I sauté foods in olive oil, I have only eaten deep fried foods twice in 3 months.
Losing weight still brings up other issues…..Parts of me of saggier than they were and I don’t like that at all. Also, I suspect that attention from men will increase and I will no longer have my safe “filter” to help weed out people who might harm me emotionally. I guess part of my transformation is learning to stop hiding and confront my life, and my choices, head-on.
The waiter smiled at me today. Of course, I then noticed him checking out a slim, toned woman in a form fitting outfit who walked in the café’ after me. Oh well. One day I might get some admiring glances, too, but I am afraid they won’t be from the him.
Friday, June 20, 2008
A Message
Yesterday I walked to Fuflun’s for my weekly pizza where I sat outside, under a large umbrella. Perfect for watching the few people who wander down this small side street off Piazza della Repubblica. I ordered the pizza crostone which consists of a light and bubbly pizza crust covered with melted cheese and a layer of proscuitto, topped with fresh sliced tomatoes, arugula, and thin curls of Parmigiano. Heavenly! Mandola’s, an Italian restaurant and deli in Austin, has a very similar pizza so I will be able to satisfy my craving when I return home.
After lunch I hopped in bed with a book as it has become quite warm in the afternoons with the strong sun beating down on the ancient stones of Cortona. It heats up rather like a brick pizza oven!
At 5:00 I wandered over the David and Francesco’s to make an appointment to have my hair cut and colored. It’s been 6 weeks already! The same slim man with very short hair, angular face, and the holstered collection of shears, was at the desk and said they could take me “adesso”, now. He led me to a chair and poked around my head for quite some time examining my hair in great detail and, with David’s translation help; we decided to make the body of my hair a bit darker than we had previously, but to keep the blonde highlights. He disappeared to mix the hair color and then he, with David handing him the foils, applied the highlights, then after about 15 minutes the rest of the color. How lucky could I get? I had two really nice looking Italian men laboring over my hair. I was in heaven except for the upset stomach I had from a bad case of the nerves resulting from my previous hair cutting experience. Eventually, I was lead back to the sink by the young lady with the magic fingers for a luxurious hair wash and head massage. This time the short haired man (I am too shy to ask his name) who colored my hair cut it too. The shears made a “whisk, whisk” sound as he traveled ‘round my hair causing tiny pieces of hair to fall to the floor. He really cut very little before he began drying and styling my hair, whirling it all around my head until, at one point, it was all twirled up like a soft-serve ice cream cone. Of course it was very cute and the color is gorgeous and very shiny. He does the most beautiful hair color and teeny, subtle, little highlights. I love my stylist, Charline, at home, and we have a fun time doing my hair, but I think he could challenge her in the color department! Once my camera battery has charged up I will take a photo of the new hair color!
I received a new message in my dreams the other night which I feel is important to share. In my dream, another lady and I were social workers and had identified a foster home which was not providing good care to handicapped toddlers and infants. We were cleaning, dressing, playing with, and loving the babies until we could find a new, better placement for them. The dream changed then and I was in a walled yard surrounding a small church and a specific message came to me “I was able to hurt before. Now I will perpetuate the things which show love”. Even in my dream I knew this was a profound message and I kept repeating it to myself until I was fully conscious and able to get up and write it down. At the time my feeling was that the “hurt” the message referred to was my ability to hurt other people, but perhaps it also represents my ability to be hurt myself. I don’t know exactly what the message entails or how I am to carry out the instructions, but I carry it with me as a reminder to be the best, kindest, most loving person I can be. I imagine it will be a day by day, even minute by minute, learning process as I have rather a sharp tongue at times and occasionally say unkind things. Perhaps more importantly, I sometimes THINK unkind things about both myself and others. However Divine messages should not be disregarded and I am thankful to be the recipient of one.
After lunch I hopped in bed with a book as it has become quite warm in the afternoons with the strong sun beating down on the ancient stones of Cortona. It heats up rather like a brick pizza oven!
At 5:00 I wandered over the David and Francesco’s to make an appointment to have my hair cut and colored. It’s been 6 weeks already! The same slim man with very short hair, angular face, and the holstered collection of shears, was at the desk and said they could take me “adesso”, now. He led me to a chair and poked around my head for quite some time examining my hair in great detail and, with David’s translation help; we decided to make the body of my hair a bit darker than we had previously, but to keep the blonde highlights. He disappeared to mix the hair color and then he, with David handing him the foils, applied the highlights, then after about 15 minutes the rest of the color. How lucky could I get? I had two really nice looking Italian men laboring over my hair. I was in heaven except for the upset stomach I had from a bad case of the nerves resulting from my previous hair cutting experience. Eventually, I was lead back to the sink by the young lady with the magic fingers for a luxurious hair wash and head massage. This time the short haired man (I am too shy to ask his name) who colored my hair cut it too. The shears made a “whisk, whisk” sound as he traveled ‘round my hair causing tiny pieces of hair to fall to the floor. He really cut very little before he began drying and styling my hair, whirling it all around my head until, at one point, it was all twirled up like a soft-serve ice cream cone. Of course it was very cute and the color is gorgeous and very shiny. He does the most beautiful hair color and teeny, subtle, little highlights. I love my stylist, Charline, at home, and we have a fun time doing my hair, but I think he could challenge her in the color department! Once my camera battery has charged up I will take a photo of the new hair color!
I received a new message in my dreams the other night which I feel is important to share. In my dream, another lady and I were social workers and had identified a foster home which was not providing good care to handicapped toddlers and infants. We were cleaning, dressing, playing with, and loving the babies until we could find a new, better placement for them. The dream changed then and I was in a walled yard surrounding a small church and a specific message came to me “I was able to hurt before. Now I will perpetuate the things which show love”. Even in my dream I knew this was a profound message and I kept repeating it to myself until I was fully conscious and able to get up and write it down. At the time my feeling was that the “hurt” the message referred to was my ability to hurt other people, but perhaps it also represents my ability to be hurt myself. I don’t know exactly what the message entails or how I am to carry out the instructions, but I carry it with me as a reminder to be the best, kindest, most loving person I can be. I imagine it will be a day by day, even minute by minute, learning process as I have rather a sharp tongue at times and occasionally say unkind things. Perhaps more importantly, I sometimes THINK unkind things about both myself and others. However Divine messages should not be disregarded and I am thankful to be the recipient of one.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
The Marionettes: Act Three
After being suspiciously quiet for the past two months, those ghastly marionettes have returned with a vengeance. The day dawned sunny and bright, if a bit cool. While getting dressed this morning, I accidently knocked a little drawstring bag containing two lovely Murano glass necklaces onto the tiled floor, shattering both beyond repair. I was sure I had not left my special jewelry so close to the edge of the dresser and a closer examination revealed that the dastardly duo had levered open the cover to their tomb and climbed out leaving the top propped open with one of the magazines which are supposed to keep them locked in. They then made their way into my room and shimmied up the lamp pole, stretching a couple of inches until they could climb atop the bureau where they dragged the bag containing my lovely jewelry to the edge of the marble dresser top in hopes I would knock it to the floor as, of course, I did. They are not so blatant as to actually throw the jewelry to the floor themselves. It is much more fun to watch me do it!
I walked to the café for my usual café latte, but hurried through it to catch the bus to Camucia to explore for the first time. My intended bus never showed up having apparently been waylaid by the dastardly duo, but no matter, the bus to Terontola eventually arrived which makes a stop in Camucia at the train station. I’ve decided to visit Florence one last time before I leave. I want to look at some jewelry and I also want to scope out the train situation again and locate where to catch a taxi when to the airport when I am ready to leave. I walked to the travel agency near the train station and bought one round trip ticket to Florence for my exploratory trip and a one-way ticket for my ultimate departure. The man working at the agency told me all about how Italian is the most beautiful language in the world, but he would not let me use the restroom. I guess the marionettes got to him first. I saw one of them lurking behind a display of travel brochures but wasn’t fast enough to grab the little devil.
My son Jordan’s birthday is fast approaching so I stopped at a few places to look for a birthday card, to no avail. The tiny selection I found just did not meet my needs. I then walked to the Coop grocery store where I bought some of my favorite Foxy toilet paper, a small bag of bar mix (nuts and stuff), and a jar of these tiny, salty olives with which I have fallen madly in love. I browsed the strip mall near Coop for a time looking at shoes, watches, and jewelry, until I reached the bar/café where I ordered café mocha. It was heavenly……rich and covered with whipped cream and cocoa. I sat outside under a large, white umbrella and enjoyed my treat while watching dark clouds move in over Cortona as they seem to do each afternoon blocking out the golden sunlight with their menacing presence.
A few minutes before the bus was scheduled to arrive for my return home, I walked inside the café to pay for my coffee. As I stood waiting, one of those hideous dolls ran up, and tore my shopping bag from my hand dropping it heavily to the floor breaking the jar of olives! Unfortunately, the bag was not water tight and soon a large puddle of olive brine was seeping out and spreading across the floor in an aromatic lake. I trotted to the bathroom where I cleaned as best I could by dumping the broken jar and olives into the trash, then rinsing the bag in the bidet (yuck!) before stowing the toilet paper and snack mix back in the dripping wet and smelly bag. I then had to mop the floor with paper towels which immediately turned black suggesting to me that the bathroom was in need of a good scrubbing. I slunk from the bathroom and zipped out the door before someone could yell at me for making the huge mess. The bus arrived on time and transported me and my smelly, sticky load to the top of the hill.
I stopped by the bakery for two rolls (yes, I finally located rolls at the bakery) and loped home for lunch, which brought on the next mishap. As I carefully sliced open the bag of snack mix to put into a resealable (and dry) container, the top of the bag exploded open pouring tiny nuts, rice crackers, and roasted corn kernels all over the counter and floor. It took 5 minutes to clean up the mess and I am still stepping on little nuggets I somehow managed to miss with the broom. You should have heard those horrible marionettes wheezing and cackling in their wooden coffin! They’ve never had so much fun!
I walked to the café for my usual café latte, but hurried through it to catch the bus to Camucia to explore for the first time. My intended bus never showed up having apparently been waylaid by the dastardly duo, but no matter, the bus to Terontola eventually arrived which makes a stop in Camucia at the train station. I’ve decided to visit Florence one last time before I leave. I want to look at some jewelry and I also want to scope out the train situation again and locate where to catch a taxi when to the airport when I am ready to leave. I walked to the travel agency near the train station and bought one round trip ticket to Florence for my exploratory trip and a one-way ticket for my ultimate departure. The man working at the agency told me all about how Italian is the most beautiful language in the world, but he would not let me use the restroom. I guess the marionettes got to him first. I saw one of them lurking behind a display of travel brochures but wasn’t fast enough to grab the little devil.
My son Jordan’s birthday is fast approaching so I stopped at a few places to look for a birthday card, to no avail. The tiny selection I found just did not meet my needs. I then walked to the Coop grocery store where I bought some of my favorite Foxy toilet paper, a small bag of bar mix (nuts and stuff), and a jar of these tiny, salty olives with which I have fallen madly in love. I browsed the strip mall near Coop for a time looking at shoes, watches, and jewelry, until I reached the bar/café where I ordered café mocha. It was heavenly……rich and covered with whipped cream and cocoa. I sat outside under a large, white umbrella and enjoyed my treat while watching dark clouds move in over Cortona as they seem to do each afternoon blocking out the golden sunlight with their menacing presence.
A few minutes before the bus was scheduled to arrive for my return home, I walked inside the café to pay for my coffee. As I stood waiting, one of those hideous dolls ran up, and tore my shopping bag from my hand dropping it heavily to the floor breaking the jar of olives! Unfortunately, the bag was not water tight and soon a large puddle of olive brine was seeping out and spreading across the floor in an aromatic lake. I trotted to the bathroom where I cleaned as best I could by dumping the broken jar and olives into the trash, then rinsing the bag in the bidet (yuck!) before stowing the toilet paper and snack mix back in the dripping wet and smelly bag. I then had to mop the floor with paper towels which immediately turned black suggesting to me that the bathroom was in need of a good scrubbing. I slunk from the bathroom and zipped out the door before someone could yell at me for making the huge mess. The bus arrived on time and transported me and my smelly, sticky load to the top of the hill.
I stopped by the bakery for two rolls (yes, I finally located rolls at the bakery) and loped home for lunch, which brought on the next mishap. As I carefully sliced open the bag of snack mix to put into a resealable (and dry) container, the top of the bag exploded open pouring tiny nuts, rice crackers, and roasted corn kernels all over the counter and floor. It took 5 minutes to clean up the mess and I am still stepping on little nuggets I somehow managed to miss with the broom. You should have heard those horrible marionettes wheezing and cackling in their wooden coffin! They’ve never had so much fun!
Monday, June 16, 2008
Calcio Storico Fiorentino
I turned on the television to find an interesting spectacle unfolding, the Calcio Storico Fiorentino, historical Florentine football. What grabbed my attention was a parade of drummers, trumpeters and other men dressed in medieval costumes. I was curious to see what the parade was all about so sat down on my upholstered pew to watch. Eventually two groups of similarly dressed men were paraded into a large padded square with a dirt floor surrounded by metal bleachers. Players from two teams assembled on the field attired in knee length, medieval styled shorts. The top of the shorts was flat and solid colored, some decorated with a large white square with a black symbol printed on it. I thought perhaps the square identified their playing position on the field or something, and not every player had one. At the top of the thighs the shorts ballooned out voluminously in colorful stripes (red and blue for one team, and purple and green for the other) ending in a tight band at the knee. Colorful tights and black athletic shoes finished the bottom of the uniform. On top, players wore a colored, short sleeved t-shirt which some of the muscular players had altered by removing one or both sleeves, or eschewed entirely preferring to expose their fit and buff chests. There must have been 50 players on the field and several officials. The ball was basketball sized and striped red and white. Players ran around and passed the ball with their hands and seemed to be able to score by throwing the ball into a small opening between the padded boards and the high fence enclosing the field. At either end of the field was a narrow opening protected by a draped, pointy-topped, Arabian Nights tent-like structure protected by a glove wearing behemoth. To my eyes, the strangest things was that at various points on the field couples, made up of a member from each team, were frozen into a variety of embracing and wrestling-style holds in standing, kneeling, or prone positions. I never did figure out what that was all about. I noticed that both whole and half points could be scored in the game. Of course there was a fair amount of physical contact and play could be stopped by officials waving a brightly colored wand topped with large feathers. There was so much testosterone oozing off the field and through the television from these masculine figures that I had to shave my newly-sprouting beard at least two intervals.
Last night Laura, Maria’s daughter, and I took an evening walk through town and into the park while enjoying some Nutella gelato, although she was of the opinion that not nearly enough Nutella was mixed into the gelato. I think she likes her Nutella straight from the jar. She is very nice and we’ve shared some enjoyable girl talk. I shall miss her when I leave!
I located a smaller suitcase in town and am trying to determine if I can get all my things into it. It does not have the roller wheels which would allow me to move it sideways in the narrow train aisle the way my current suitcase does, however it’s shorter and should be easier to lift off and on the train. I may take the bus down to Camucia (kah-moo-SHEE-a) to see what other choices I might have before I make the financial commitment.
No rain today, but there are dark gray clouds hovering overhead blocking the warm sun. There is supposed to be more rain the next couple of days. Nothing new there!
Oops! I just heard drums marching up the street. By the time I reached the piazza there was a flag throwing demonstration going on. These were not our beloved Cortona young people, but mature men from other cities. I saw one with the Florentine symbol on his tunic and flag. I suppose others were from the larger cities in the area, Siena and Arezzo, for example. Their skill with the flags was impressive and they performed some complicated maneuvers. The show lasted about 15 minutes and I am not sure of its purpose, but it was enjoyable nonetheless.
Last night Laura, Maria’s daughter, and I took an evening walk through town and into the park while enjoying some Nutella gelato, although she was of the opinion that not nearly enough Nutella was mixed into the gelato. I think she likes her Nutella straight from the jar. She is very nice and we’ve shared some enjoyable girl talk. I shall miss her when I leave!
I located a smaller suitcase in town and am trying to determine if I can get all my things into it. It does not have the roller wheels which would allow me to move it sideways in the narrow train aisle the way my current suitcase does, however it’s shorter and should be easier to lift off and on the train. I may take the bus down to Camucia (kah-moo-SHEE-a) to see what other choices I might have before I make the financial commitment.
No rain today, but there are dark gray clouds hovering overhead blocking the warm sun. There is supposed to be more rain the next couple of days. Nothing new there!
Oops! I just heard drums marching up the street. By the time I reached the piazza there was a flag throwing demonstration going on. These were not our beloved Cortona young people, but mature men from other cities. I saw one with the Florentine symbol on his tunic and flag. I suppose others were from the larger cities in the area, Siena and Arezzo, for example. Their skill with the flags was impressive and they performed some complicated maneuvers. The show lasted about 15 minutes and I am not sure of its purpose, but it was enjoyable nonetheless.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
An Early Morning
I awoke at 3:30 this morning. I do not actually sleep all that well here, waking every two hours or so. My forthcoming departure is on my mind these days and makes sleep elusive. I took the trash out at 4:00, washed some dishes and, to address my stress about leaving, I did some sorting and organizing. While I have purchased new items and received new clothes in the mail, I have thrown out as many clothes as I’ve received and the same with the shoes, so the overall weight of the suitcase should not have changed greatly. I am seriously considering purchasing a new, more compact suitcase, although I prefer not to make the monetary outlay. I think that I would like to take the train to Florence and then pick up a taxi at the train station to take me to the airport. It’s cheaper than renting a car and I won’t have the headache of fueling up the car and turning it in at Peretola airport. I think I might be able to fit into a smaller suitcase as I will weed out a few more items before I depart and a smaller suitcase will be more manageable on the train.
After my organizational spree I walked in the park and watched the world come to life. It continues to rain here almost daily, and each morning the valley is covered by a thick layer of fog, like a heavy woolen blanket covering a sleeping infant. The layer of fog is particularly tenacious, clinging with desperate fingers to each hillock, depression, vine, and tree across the valley, retreating incrementally as the rays of the warm sun erode its edges. As I departed the park, the valley to my left looked as though it was set for a theatrical production with the sun providing a brilliant spotlight on a tiny stage and the fog a dark curtain hovering just off the floor ready to lift for the players in today’s drama.
I trotted back through Piazza Signorelli where the Saturday market vendors were busily unloading their trucks and vans and setting up display tables for the crowds of shoppers just now awaking. Here I encountered my favorite porchetta man who, I noted happily, is much taller and better looking than when he is standing four feet above me dressed in white (Think Alice, the housekeeper's, boyfriend Sam, the butcher, on The Brady Bunch) and waving a large butcher knife in the air. He gave me a nice smile and a friendly greeting in English. For some reason I felt the need to tell him all about how I woke up at 3:30 in the morning. I am pretty sure he's not interested in my sleeping habits....
I met a new friend for coffee yesterday. She is in a similar place in her life as I am…a crossroads, with choices to be made. Turn left? Turn right? Hide under a bush and hope someone else makes the decision for us?? At any rate, we had a very nice conversation and I feel very fortunate to have met her. I noticed her exchanging looks with my favorite waiter though. Perhaps there is history there, a story. I didn’t ask because I am not ready to know. It is apparent that the waiter and I are not destined share anything more than an occasional smile. So be it. Non e’ il nostro destino, it’s not our destiny.
I am wearing my new “skinny” jeans today. Now that I’ve worn them a couple of hours they feel like a nice, tight hug, however when I first put them on it felt as though a boa constrictor had been unleashed to wrap itself ‘round my legs with the sole goal of squeezing me into a shadow of my former self. Tight pants also lead to an exaggerated case of “muffin top”, which is hard to disguise particularly as I am wearing one of my new “skinny tops”. Forget Spanx, I am going to design a new girdle called THE CONSTRICTOR. What’s revolutionary about my girdle is that it will be designed so that while it constricts it also cuts off blood flow causing excess lumps of unsightly flab to turn black and fall off painlessly, leaving the wearer with a new, svelte figure. I could make a million with an invention like that! Advance orders anyone? Speaking of cutting off blood flow, I returned to the large size clothing store in Arezzo and still did not find anything I liked well enough to buy. The couple things I really liked were not in my size, cost way too much, or needed to be ironed. The items I tried on were not at all flattering. I need a little more cotton in my shirts and a little less Spandex, which clings to the body like plastic wrap afflicted with an extreme case of static cling. Not a good look for most people!
After my organizational spree I walked in the park and watched the world come to life. It continues to rain here almost daily, and each morning the valley is covered by a thick layer of fog, like a heavy woolen blanket covering a sleeping infant. The layer of fog is particularly tenacious, clinging with desperate fingers to each hillock, depression, vine, and tree across the valley, retreating incrementally as the rays of the warm sun erode its edges. As I departed the park, the valley to my left looked as though it was set for a theatrical production with the sun providing a brilliant spotlight on a tiny stage and the fog a dark curtain hovering just off the floor ready to lift for the players in today’s drama.
I trotted back through Piazza Signorelli where the Saturday market vendors were busily unloading their trucks and vans and setting up display tables for the crowds of shoppers just now awaking. Here I encountered my favorite porchetta man who, I noted happily, is much taller and better looking than when he is standing four feet above me dressed in white (Think Alice, the housekeeper's, boyfriend Sam, the butcher, on The Brady Bunch) and waving a large butcher knife in the air. He gave me a nice smile and a friendly greeting in English. For some reason I felt the need to tell him all about how I woke up at 3:30 in the morning. I am pretty sure he's not interested in my sleeping habits....
I met a new friend for coffee yesterday. She is in a similar place in her life as I am…a crossroads, with choices to be made. Turn left? Turn right? Hide under a bush and hope someone else makes the decision for us?? At any rate, we had a very nice conversation and I feel very fortunate to have met her. I noticed her exchanging looks with my favorite waiter though. Perhaps there is history there, a story. I didn’t ask because I am not ready to know. It is apparent that the waiter and I are not destined share anything more than an occasional smile. So be it. Non e’ il nostro destino, it’s not our destiny.
I am wearing my new “skinny” jeans today. Now that I’ve worn them a couple of hours they feel like a nice, tight hug, however when I first put them on it felt as though a boa constrictor had been unleashed to wrap itself ‘round my legs with the sole goal of squeezing me into a shadow of my former self. Tight pants also lead to an exaggerated case of “muffin top”, which is hard to disguise particularly as I am wearing one of my new “skinny tops”. Forget Spanx, I am going to design a new girdle called THE CONSTRICTOR. What’s revolutionary about my girdle is that it will be designed so that while it constricts it also cuts off blood flow causing excess lumps of unsightly flab to turn black and fall off painlessly, leaving the wearer with a new, svelte figure. I could make a million with an invention like that! Advance orders anyone? Speaking of cutting off blood flow, I returned to the large size clothing store in Arezzo and still did not find anything I liked well enough to buy. The couple things I really liked were not in my size, cost way too much, or needed to be ironed. The items I tried on were not at all flattering. I need a little more cotton in my shirts and a little less Spandex, which clings to the body like plastic wrap afflicted with an extreme case of static cling. Not a good look for most people!
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
A Slip of the Tongue
Italian is an interesting language with its multitude of verb conjugations and words that I simply cannot wrap my tongue around (l’orologio, gli elettrodomestici). One of the most interesting pronunciations is that for words with a double consonant. Take sono (I am, they are) and sonno (sleep), for example. The difference in pronunciation is that the double “n” in sonno is held just a tiny fraction of a second longer that the single “n” in sono. This, typically, gives non-Italian speakers some difficulty. Of course, holding the “n” sound too long makes it sounds as though you have peanut butter stuck to the roof of your mouth. Quite by accident, I noticed in my dictionary that the Italian word pene (penis) is very like the word penne (pens; also a type of pasta) except for the double “n” in penne. Now I have a horrible sinking feeling that I trotted into Molesini’s store the other day, where the pasta is on a high shelf behind the end of the deli counter, and asked the male manning the counter to hand me a box of “penis”…..
The last two days have been glorious and sunny, but today is gray and overcast. Rain is sure to appear at some point during the day. Even when the valley is sunny, we often have a dark gray cloud hanging over the hill producing a never-ending supply of rain. My theory is that the moisture laden clouds get hung up on the church spires and cannot get over our hill. I spent quite a lot of time these past days walking in the park and soaking up the hot rays and I’ve developed an unfortunate tan ring around my neck and upper chest where the sun kisses me. Everything below that is a particularly anemic shade of white.
I was invited to join a group of Americans and English last night for a drink and some pleasant conversation. One man admitted he’d recently gotten on an out of service train heading the wrong direction in error and had to ask to be let off at some tiny station in the middle of nowhere. His friends were alerted to his dilemma by a series of desperate incoming text messages stating, “I got on the wrong train and I don’t know where I am and no one else is on the train …..” I could have nightmares about an experience like that!
The last two days have been glorious and sunny, but today is gray and overcast. Rain is sure to appear at some point during the day. Even when the valley is sunny, we often have a dark gray cloud hanging over the hill producing a never-ending supply of rain. My theory is that the moisture laden clouds get hung up on the church spires and cannot get over our hill. I spent quite a lot of time these past days walking in the park and soaking up the hot rays and I’ve developed an unfortunate tan ring around my neck and upper chest where the sun kisses me. Everything below that is a particularly anemic shade of white.
I was invited to join a group of Americans and English last night for a drink and some pleasant conversation. One man admitted he’d recently gotten on an out of service train heading the wrong direction in error and had to ask to be let off at some tiny station in the middle of nowhere. His friends were alerted to his dilemma by a series of desperate incoming text messages stating, “I got on the wrong train and I don’t know where I am and no one else is on the train …..” I could have nightmares about an experience like that!
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Joy
My arrival home on Friday from Firenze brought a wonderful surprise….a package from home! Some of my friends from Central Texas College got together and assembled a care package including paperback books, magazines, books on CD, and some clothing in smaller sizes; 2 pairs of jeans and 4 shirts. I can wear two of the shirts and 1 pair of jeans; although in the jeans I am the living embodiment of the quote “Ten pounds of mud in a 5 pound bag.” Another 8 pounds weight loss or so and the pants will be perfect. My friends also included a lovely note saying they missed me. Such kindness!
I took advantage of this morning’s bright sunshine to walk in the park and as I strolled I realized that I am utterly content in my life here and more joyful than I can remember ever being. Slowly I am beginning to connect with people here. I often stop to chat, or share a hug if either of us needs it, with a lovely American who works at a fun clothing and jewelry store, and one of the nice ladies at the café took my hand between hers and gave it a gentle caress and squeeze this morning. I savor these moments as strangers take a moment out of their busy day to make me feel welcome. These warm encounters nourish my blossoming soul. Such simple things can now bring me such joy.
Maria and her daughter, Laura, invited me for dinner last night. Laura prepared a wonderful Moroccan dish in a special covered terracotta pot shaped a bit like a cone with a hole at the top. Vegetables like zucchini, potatoes, and cabbage were cooked to tender perfection along with chicken pieces and spices like cumin, curry, and tamarind, all served over couscous. I have never had anything like it and it was very, very good! We also enjoyed red wine and wonderful conversation. I haven’t had a “girl’s night” in a long time. Laura and I have a date for Nutella gelato today…if I can wait, that is!
What would you say the chances are that the waiter lives directly across the street? Extremely good, as it turns out.
I stopped to buy a bus ticket to Arezzo from the tobacco shop as I thought I might go tomorrow, if the weather is favorable. Arezzo in the rain is just not a good experience. I’d like to visit the beautiful chapel at the cathedral again and perhaps I shall visit the hideously expensive clothing store. I also need to start thinking about how I shall get to the in Firenze in 3 weeks for my flight to Frankfurt. I imagine I’ll rent a car for a few days so I can see a few last places before I depart for the next chapter of my adventure. I notice that I seem to be procrastinating in making a car rental. Perhaps I am not yet ready to leave this place and the little home I’ve made here.
I took advantage of this morning’s bright sunshine to walk in the park and as I strolled I realized that I am utterly content in my life here and more joyful than I can remember ever being. Slowly I am beginning to connect with people here. I often stop to chat, or share a hug if either of us needs it, with a lovely American who works at a fun clothing and jewelry store, and one of the nice ladies at the café took my hand between hers and gave it a gentle caress and squeeze this morning. I savor these moments as strangers take a moment out of their busy day to make me feel welcome. These warm encounters nourish my blossoming soul. Such simple things can now bring me such joy.
Maria and her daughter, Laura, invited me for dinner last night. Laura prepared a wonderful Moroccan dish in a special covered terracotta pot shaped a bit like a cone with a hole at the top. Vegetables like zucchini, potatoes, and cabbage were cooked to tender perfection along with chicken pieces and spices like cumin, curry, and tamarind, all served over couscous. I have never had anything like it and it was very, very good! We also enjoyed red wine and wonderful conversation. I haven’t had a “girl’s night” in a long time. Laura and I have a date for Nutella gelato today…if I can wait, that is!
What would you say the chances are that the waiter lives directly across the street? Extremely good, as it turns out.
I stopped to buy a bus ticket to Arezzo from the tobacco shop as I thought I might go tomorrow, if the weather is favorable. Arezzo in the rain is just not a good experience. I’d like to visit the beautiful chapel at the cathedral again and perhaps I shall visit the hideously expensive clothing store. I also need to start thinking about how I shall get to the in Firenze in 3 weeks for my flight to Frankfurt. I imagine I’ll rent a car for a few days so I can see a few last places before I depart for the next chapter of my adventure. I notice that I seem to be procrastinating in making a car rental. Perhaps I am not yet ready to leave this place and the little home I’ve made here.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Firenze
My traveling companion and I caught an early bus to the Camucia train station at the foot of Cortona’s hill then caught a train to Firenze, Florence. The 1 ¼ hour train ride traversed some of the most beautiful Tuscan scenery. Because it’s been such a cool and rainy spring and summer, the countryside was lush and green, more like England than Italy. Roses, geraniums, and other flowers were blooming riotously in gay abandon. usually the sunflowers bloom late June into July, but I imagine they will be late this year due to the cooler than normal weather, which is too bad as I will miss them.
The train stops in Arezzo and makes two stops in Firenze (Florence). We exited at the last stop, Santa Maria Nouvella. From there it was a short walk to the Duomo, an incredibly massive wedding cake of a cathedral constructed of white, green, and pink marble and ornately frosted with gothic windows, carved doors, statues, and marble curlicues. It was so large I had difficulty taking pictures of more than one small part of it at a time. Because the line to enter the Duomo was so long I decided to wait until the next morning to visit, planning to be there right when it opened to avoid the crush of tourists.
We found our way to the restaurant we had reserved for lunch, but we arrived 45 minutes early and the staff was still eating their meal. I wanted to wait until our reservation time, but my traveling companion felt sure the restaurant owners wouldn’t mind that we were early as she usually arrives early. We sat out on a small porch covered with vines on the open side, and both order the fixed price menu beginning with tortellini and followed by a grilled chicken breast, french fries and deep fried squash blossoms, then dessert. One of the restaurant owners was our waiter and another owner came over to greet us and ask if we were enjoying our meal. Unfortunately, as he chatted with us he was staring down the front of my blouse. After Creepy Guy made his departure and I dried the drool from my cleavage with a napkin, I indulged in a sinful dessert of profiteroles filled with vanilla gelato and swimming in a puddle of rich melted Perugina chocolate. To die for….
We checked into our small, simple hotel located directly behind the restaurant and wandered off explore several pedestrian only shopping streets lined end to end with shops and boutiques. I even found a shop specializing in my breathable shoes and two featuring Murano glass. Ultimately we located the famous Ponte Vecchio, an ancient building covered bridge, now encrusted with jewelry shops whose windows were positively bursting with shimmering gold and sparkling gems. I have never seen so much gold in one place in my life and it was completely overwhelming. I imagine Howard Carter felt the same way as he cracked open the seal to King Tutankhamen’s tomb and beheld the golden glitter. I was on sensory overload!
It was raining so we poked around town protected by our umbrellas and stopped at a café where I had an $8 coffee and my friend a $6 cookie. The prices in Florence were just outrageous and the crowds of tourists impenetrable.
I toured the Duomo the next morning right at 10:00 when it opened and I am sorry to say I was very disappointed. I had anticipated something more like Siena’s Duomo, an active church with lovely decoration and pews for praying. This was essentially a large, empty room devoid of the Divine. A lifeless place.
I explored the streets near the Duomo and shopped at an outdoor market featuring leather goods, scarves, and paper products. I found a wonderful purse in a buttery soft golden leather with a dark brown leather trim. The vendor was nice enough to give me a 5 euro discount. I like to take my purse out of the plastic bag and inhale its rich aroma. It’s one of my guilty pleasures!
I met up with my traveling companion and we had a terrible, but expensive, lunch at an outdoor table of a trattoria. I order the mixed crostini (toasts) and got one covered with something that looked, smelled, and tasted like warm dog food. I ventured a nibble, but could not bring myself to eat any more. My companion was more direct, “That looks like shit.” I’ll certainly not be returning to that restaurant!
We returned home on a slower train which made more stops in picturesque little towns than the one we’d arrived on. I must say I was very glad to be home in Cortona. My traveling companion and I agreed that we do not travel well together. She prefers to network and stops to speak to every English speaking person she encounters which, in Florence, are many. She enjoys exchanging personal information and making contacts. I am much more introspective and a couple of pleasant conversations satisfy me. I prefer to absorb the culture and savor the Italian experience. That is why I came to Italy. I am, however, very appreciative of my opportunity to visit Firenze and I am grateful to my companion for showing me how to take the train and navigate this busy city. I know that she had to curtail some of the things she wanted to do because I was there.
The train stops in Arezzo and makes two stops in Firenze (Florence). We exited at the last stop, Santa Maria Nouvella. From there it was a short walk to the Duomo, an incredibly massive wedding cake of a cathedral constructed of white, green, and pink marble and ornately frosted with gothic windows, carved doors, statues, and marble curlicues. It was so large I had difficulty taking pictures of more than one small part of it at a time. Because the line to enter the Duomo was so long I decided to wait until the next morning to visit, planning to be there right when it opened to avoid the crush of tourists.
We found our way to the restaurant we had reserved for lunch, but we arrived 45 minutes early and the staff was still eating their meal. I wanted to wait until our reservation time, but my traveling companion felt sure the restaurant owners wouldn’t mind that we were early as she usually arrives early. We sat out on a small porch covered with vines on the open side, and both order the fixed price menu beginning with tortellini and followed by a grilled chicken breast, french fries and deep fried squash blossoms, then dessert. One of the restaurant owners was our waiter and another owner came over to greet us and ask if we were enjoying our meal. Unfortunately, as he chatted with us he was staring down the front of my blouse. After Creepy Guy made his departure and I dried the drool from my cleavage with a napkin, I indulged in a sinful dessert of profiteroles filled with vanilla gelato and swimming in a puddle of rich melted Perugina chocolate. To die for….
We checked into our small, simple hotel located directly behind the restaurant and wandered off explore several pedestrian only shopping streets lined end to end with shops and boutiques. I even found a shop specializing in my breathable shoes and two featuring Murano glass. Ultimately we located the famous Ponte Vecchio, an ancient building covered bridge, now encrusted with jewelry shops whose windows were positively bursting with shimmering gold and sparkling gems. I have never seen so much gold in one place in my life and it was completely overwhelming. I imagine Howard Carter felt the same way as he cracked open the seal to King Tutankhamen’s tomb and beheld the golden glitter. I was on sensory overload!
It was raining so we poked around town protected by our umbrellas and stopped at a café where I had an $8 coffee and my friend a $6 cookie. The prices in Florence were just outrageous and the crowds of tourists impenetrable.
I toured the Duomo the next morning right at 10:00 when it opened and I am sorry to say I was very disappointed. I had anticipated something more like Siena’s Duomo, an active church with lovely decoration and pews for praying. This was essentially a large, empty room devoid of the Divine. A lifeless place.
I explored the streets near the Duomo and shopped at an outdoor market featuring leather goods, scarves, and paper products. I found a wonderful purse in a buttery soft golden leather with a dark brown leather trim. The vendor was nice enough to give me a 5 euro discount. I like to take my purse out of the plastic bag and inhale its rich aroma. It’s one of my guilty pleasures!
I met up with my traveling companion and we had a terrible, but expensive, lunch at an outdoor table of a trattoria. I order the mixed crostini (toasts) and got one covered with something that looked, smelled, and tasted like warm dog food. I ventured a nibble, but could not bring myself to eat any more. My companion was more direct, “That looks like shit.” I’ll certainly not be returning to that restaurant!
We returned home on a slower train which made more stops in picturesque little towns than the one we’d arrived on. I must say I was very glad to be home in Cortona. My traveling companion and I agreed that we do not travel well together. She prefers to network and stops to speak to every English speaking person she encounters which, in Florence, are many. She enjoys exchanging personal information and making contacts. I am much more introspective and a couple of pleasant conversations satisfy me. I prefer to absorb the culture and savor the Italian experience. That is why I came to Italy. I am, however, very appreciative of my opportunity to visit Firenze and I am grateful to my companion for showing me how to take the train and navigate this busy city. I know that she had to curtail some of the things she wanted to do because I was there.
New Beginnings
It’s raining as I write this. A brisk rain of sparkling droplets bouncing off the terracotta tiles on the building across the street and pooling on the pavement far below. The steady waterfall lulls me and helps me seek answers from within.
I have had three dreams centered around babies in less than a week. In one I was pregnant and then had a beautiful baby boy, in the second I cuddled an infant girl dressed in pink, and last night I dreamt that my husband (my ex, Tim) and I were deciding if we should have a third child. Dreams of babies indicate a new beginning or rebirth within oneself. I believe I am receiving a strong message about my life and myself. It is why I made this journey.
As I spend time here, both alone and with others, I find that the person I would like to be is becoming clearer to me as is the person I do not wish to be. As an exercise, I’ve decided to list the top 10 things I wish and do not wish to be as a human being in order to help me focus on changes I need to make.
The person I want to be:
1. Kind
2. Compassionate
3. Giving
4. Loving
5. Loyal
6. Confident
7. Sensitive
8. Non-judgmental
9. Honest
10. A Good Listener
The person I do not wish to be:
1. Critical
2. Impatient
3. Negative
4. Naggy
5. A Complainer
6. Unkind
7. Arrogant
8. Controlling
9. Demanding
10. Selfish
I will print this list out and place it somewhere I will see it each day as a reminder of what I am working toward. I am making a commitment to myself and I ask the Universe and La Santa for the strength to become the person I know I can be. This will be my rebirth.
I have had three dreams centered around babies in less than a week. In one I was pregnant and then had a beautiful baby boy, in the second I cuddled an infant girl dressed in pink, and last night I dreamt that my husband (my ex, Tim) and I were deciding if we should have a third child. Dreams of babies indicate a new beginning or rebirth within oneself. I believe I am receiving a strong message about my life and myself. It is why I made this journey.
As I spend time here, both alone and with others, I find that the person I would like to be is becoming clearer to me as is the person I do not wish to be. As an exercise, I’ve decided to list the top 10 things I wish and do not wish to be as a human being in order to help me focus on changes I need to make.
The person I want to be:
1. Kind
2. Compassionate
3. Giving
4. Loving
5. Loyal
6. Confident
7. Sensitive
8. Non-judgmental
9. Honest
10. A Good Listener
The person I do not wish to be:
1. Critical
2. Impatient
3. Negative
4. Naggy
5. A Complainer
6. Unkind
7. Arrogant
8. Controlling
9. Demanding
10. Selfish
I will print this list out and place it somewhere I will see it each day as a reminder of what I am working toward. I am making a commitment to myself and I ask the Universe and La Santa for the strength to become the person I know I can be. This will be my rebirth.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Prosecco
After not visiting the café during the weekend I returned yesterday to have a wonderful caffe’ latte and read my book for an hour or so. There is a cute little boy who comes in 2 or 3 days a week with his mother. He is about 3 ½ or 4 and the ladies at the café fuss over him as they do with all children. He is always smiling…….that is, until he makes eye contact with me. Then his happy face creases into a big, exaggerated frowny face as though I’d just suggested that he and Gretel hop in my oven. Sometimes he points at me and loudly tells his mother all about “la signora”, while she tries to unsuccessfully to shush him. I don’t know what it is about me that the little guy doesn’t like as little ones usually respond to my smile. Perhaps I should stop smiling at him.
I walked down to Dee’s house to chat and after we visited awhile she took me to a shoe store where a young woman makes handmade shoes. She studied in Florence for two years and spends the long, cold winter making unique and one-of-a-kind shoes for her little shop. She is very creative and makes wonderful shoes. I loved a pair of leather sandals fashioned of two narrow strips of leather decorated with small, individually created, leather flowers of yellow, brown, and green. The soles of the sandals come to a point in the front and remind me of something a tiny woodland sprite might wear while leaping nimbly through a forest. Such special shoes and such a talented artisan. It was my honor to meet her!
We then visited a small Enoteca (wine shop) owned by an adorable young couple. We ordered prosecco which is a sparkling white wine, similar to champagne. The young shop owner brought some delicious, beautiful, red cherries to our table and allowed me to sample of both fresh and aged pecorino cheese. Such a treat! The fresh pecorino was smooth and creamy and I liked it even better than the aged. The young woman’s father was sitting quietly at a table next to us and he explained that he is a personal chef who can be hired by foreign visitors who come to vacation at an Italian villa. What luxury to stay at an Italian villa with a resident chef to prepare Tuscan specialties each day! I think I would like to have a chef cook for me. He was very interesting and his son-in-law was kind enough to help us communicate with one another, as he spoke very little English. Such nice people and I wish them every success with their little shop.
Tomorrow I will be going to Florence with a friend for a couple of days. People just keep telling me how incredibly beautiful Florence is and I am very excited. It was one of the places mom and I wanted to visit, but never made it to for a number of reasons. Visiting the Duomo and seeing the Ponte Vecchio are the top two items on my agenda, and we have reservations at a wonderful restaurant for lunch. I will take lots of pictures to share with all of you!
I walked down to Dee’s house to chat and after we visited awhile she took me to a shoe store where a young woman makes handmade shoes. She studied in Florence for two years and spends the long, cold winter making unique and one-of-a-kind shoes for her little shop. She is very creative and makes wonderful shoes. I loved a pair of leather sandals fashioned of two narrow strips of leather decorated with small, individually created, leather flowers of yellow, brown, and green. The soles of the sandals come to a point in the front and remind me of something a tiny woodland sprite might wear while leaping nimbly through a forest. Such special shoes and such a talented artisan. It was my honor to meet her!
We then visited a small Enoteca (wine shop) owned by an adorable young couple. We ordered prosecco which is a sparkling white wine, similar to champagne. The young shop owner brought some delicious, beautiful, red cherries to our table and allowed me to sample of both fresh and aged pecorino cheese. Such a treat! The fresh pecorino was smooth and creamy and I liked it even better than the aged. The young woman’s father was sitting quietly at a table next to us and he explained that he is a personal chef who can be hired by foreign visitors who come to vacation at an Italian villa. What luxury to stay at an Italian villa with a resident chef to prepare Tuscan specialties each day! I think I would like to have a chef cook for me. He was very interesting and his son-in-law was kind enough to help us communicate with one another, as he spoke very little English. Such nice people and I wish them every success with their little shop.
Tomorrow I will be going to Florence with a friend for a couple of days. People just keep telling me how incredibly beautiful Florence is and I am very excited. It was one of the places mom and I wanted to visit, but never made it to for a number of reasons. Visiting the Duomo and seeing the Ponte Vecchio are the top two items on my agenda, and we have reservations at a wonderful restaurant for lunch. I will take lots of pictures to share with all of you!
Monday, June 2, 2008
The Joust
I was rather tired yesterday after the late night of the matrimonio medievale the night before, however I dragged myself out of bed at 9:00 to ensure that I didn’t miss any potential excitement on this exciting weekend. On my first trip through the piazza I saw some printed programs that were given to those paying 8 euro for a seat on the bleachers. I was just contemplating asking a small child to duck under the metal bleachers to retrieve one when I spotted some sitting on a side table. The program actually a good sized colorful booklet with pictures of past celebrations and some historical information about the joust, and a bit was even in English. A nice keepsake for me to take home with me.
At 11:00 there was a practice joust to give the competitors an opportunity to warm up and familiarize themselves with the set up of the competition area. I noticed that many of the competitors wore a large brown leather collar to protect their shoulders from the weight of the cross bow. It surprised me to see that they do not actually support the entire cross bow, but the front part is set into a sort of stand and the back part with the trigger rests on the shoulder of the archer. A second individual carefully and precisely loaded one arrow into the bow. The target itself is colorful, made of wood, and divided into sections with a drawing in each. The real target is a white 3-dimensional square maybe five inches across placed in the center of the wooden target. This white square has been subdivided into five smaller squares delineated in black ink, one in the center and one toward each of the four corners. I watched several archers take shots and noticed that one young man was REALLY good. He placed three arrows within some portion of the small inked center square!
After the practice session there was a break until the real competition, so I found myself trotting outside of the city walls toward the porchetta man. Now, suspicious minds will think I was visiting the porchetta man to buy a luscious pork sandwich, my second in two days, but nothing could be further from the truth. When I visited the porchetta man last weekend I taught him the English word for sachetto, “bag”, and it was absolutely imperative that I check his progress to ensure he’d retained that vital tidbit of information, which he had. I gave him a big, “Bravo”, and next thing I know he’s handing me a panino wrapped in brown paper and I’m handing him 2 euro. Now that I had the darned thing in my hands, I certainly had to eat it! It was generously stacked with aromatic, garlicky pork slices and was even better than yesterday’s sandwich if that’s possible. I wonder if I can get a job as a porchetta taster? Of course that sort of job probably comes with some terrible title like “The Big Pig” or something equally hideous.
At the appointed hour the actual joust competition began. It was preceded by more than an hour’s worth of fanfare; drummers, trumpeters, the presentation of the neighborhoods and the wedding couple, dancers, and flag throwers. It was very similar to the wedding celebration the night before minus the marriage ceremony and flame thrower. I was standing in the third row and had a fairly clear view until two of the “official” event photographers appeared to stand in my clear space! I did take what pictures I could and even made a couple of video clips which I will try to post to my bog today. I did not stay for the entire competition as, after another 90 minutes of standing, my knees were killing me and my left foot was numb. I will visit Cortona’s website this morning to see if the results have been announced. I have a sinking feeling that Santa Maria did not win, but my fingers are still crossed!
At 11:00 there was a practice joust to give the competitors an opportunity to warm up and familiarize themselves with the set up of the competition area. I noticed that many of the competitors wore a large brown leather collar to protect their shoulders from the weight of the cross bow. It surprised me to see that they do not actually support the entire cross bow, but the front part is set into a sort of stand and the back part with the trigger rests on the shoulder of the archer. A second individual carefully and precisely loaded one arrow into the bow. The target itself is colorful, made of wood, and divided into sections with a drawing in each. The real target is a white 3-dimensional square maybe five inches across placed in the center of the wooden target. This white square has been subdivided into five smaller squares delineated in black ink, one in the center and one toward each of the four corners. I watched several archers take shots and noticed that one young man was REALLY good. He placed three arrows within some portion of the small inked center square!
After the practice session there was a break until the real competition, so I found myself trotting outside of the city walls toward the porchetta man. Now, suspicious minds will think I was visiting the porchetta man to buy a luscious pork sandwich, my second in two days, but nothing could be further from the truth. When I visited the porchetta man last weekend I taught him the English word for sachetto, “bag”, and it was absolutely imperative that I check his progress to ensure he’d retained that vital tidbit of information, which he had. I gave him a big, “Bravo”, and next thing I know he’s handing me a panino wrapped in brown paper and I’m handing him 2 euro. Now that I had the darned thing in my hands, I certainly had to eat it! It was generously stacked with aromatic, garlicky pork slices and was even better than yesterday’s sandwich if that’s possible. I wonder if I can get a job as a porchetta taster? Of course that sort of job probably comes with some terrible title like “The Big Pig” or something equally hideous.
At the appointed hour the actual joust competition began. It was preceded by more than an hour’s worth of fanfare; drummers, trumpeters, the presentation of the neighborhoods and the wedding couple, dancers, and flag throwers. It was very similar to the wedding celebration the night before minus the marriage ceremony and flame thrower. I was standing in the third row and had a fairly clear view until two of the “official” event photographers appeared to stand in my clear space! I did take what pictures I could and even made a couple of video clips which I will try to post to my bog today. I did not stay for the entire competition as, after another 90 minutes of standing, my knees were killing me and my left foot was numb. I will visit Cortona’s website this morning to see if the results have been announced. I have a sinking feeling that Santa Maria did not win, but my fingers are still crossed!
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Matrimonio Medievale
As a part of the Giostra dell’Archidado (Joust of the Archidado), a recreation of the wedding of Francesco Casali and Antonia Salimbeni occurring in the year 1397 was held at Piazza Signorelli last night. Workers had been readying the piazza for this big event since early Saturday morning. Two sets of bleachers were set up against one side of the piazza, and against the wall of the Etruscan museum a covered stage was draped in red and set with rows of high backed wooden chairs. Two large flower globes dangling from the red awning and a large vase of flowers on the ground in front of the stage. As I watched, a wooden table and two chairs were set on a red carpet in front of the covered stage, and a second, smaller, wooden stage was set in the far back corner, against a stone wall.
The 2 hours of festivities were scheduled to begin at 9:15, just past sundown. I stopped to ask Laura and Maria if they would like to join me, so they quickly ate dinner and we three wandered to the piazza at about 9:00. We arrived to find a medieval quartet set up on the small stage in the corner, singing and playing medieval instruments like a hurdy-gurdy. For a fee of 8 euro each we could have had seats on the bleachers, which I would have done had I any money with me. As it was, I stood for over 2 hours and my feet and knees were killing me!
A rather short announcer clad in a colorful tunic with a red velvet hat entered the stage area and mounted a small podium to host the event. As the lyrical notes from the quartet faded, the steady beat of drums echoed eerily in the dark as the marching band made its way from Piazza della Repubblica down the narrow lane into Piazza Signorelli eventually drowning out all other sound, even that of my own heartbeat. The drummers marched around the perimeter of the performance area and lined up against a building in the back, still playing. Each of the 5 quintieri, neighborhoods, of Cortona were introduced individually, accompanied by trumpeting, drumming, and a standard bearer followed by members of the quintieri in luxurious costumes made of velvet, silk, satin, and brocade in a rainbow of rich hues. The 5 quintieri of Cortona are San Vincenzo, San Marco-Poggio, San’ Andrea, Peccioverardi, and Santa Maria, which is my neighborhood.
The wedding party then entered the piazza, heralded by trumpeters, under a canopy made of lengths of white cloth attached to long wooden poles wrapped in white satin ribbon and carried by young women dressed fairy-like in diaphanous white gowns. The betrothed couple, dressed in elaborate costumes of ivory, gold, and rich brown, were seated at the wooden table for a brief marriage ceremony, then retreated to chairs under the awning to observe the entertainment. The flag throwers appeared and performed several routines and demonstrations of their flag tossing prowess; the young fairies danced and leaped nimbly, toes pointed, like woodland sprites; and a small group of men performed dangerous maneuvers with long, flaming torches. One intrepid soul was a flame thrower who opened his mouth wide and sent billowing columns of red hot flames arcing high into the air. After this awe-inspiring display, a representative of each neighborhood approached the newly wedded couple to offer a gift, and the lovely bride, crowned with a golden headpiece and a long ivory veil, curtseyed as each gift was presented and accepted.
For the final ceremony of the evening a beautifully dressed young man was brought forth and a red satin cloth tied around his eyes to hide them. He then reached into a tall yellow urn and selected five balls, one at a time, to determine the order in which each neighborhood would shoot in Sunday’s crossbow competition. It came to my mind that my neighborhood, Santa Maria, would be the final competitor, and guess what? They will be! Santa Maria has not won the archery competition since 1994 and I think they’re long overdue! I am enlisting the help of the Universe and La Santa for tomorrow’s contest!
The 2 hours of festivities were scheduled to begin at 9:15, just past sundown. I stopped to ask Laura and Maria if they would like to join me, so they quickly ate dinner and we three wandered to the piazza at about 9:00. We arrived to find a medieval quartet set up on the small stage in the corner, singing and playing medieval instruments like a hurdy-gurdy. For a fee of 8 euro each we could have had seats on the bleachers, which I would have done had I any money with me. As it was, I stood for over 2 hours and my feet and knees were killing me!
A rather short announcer clad in a colorful tunic with a red velvet hat entered the stage area and mounted a small podium to host the event. As the lyrical notes from the quartet faded, the steady beat of drums echoed eerily in the dark as the marching band made its way from Piazza della Repubblica down the narrow lane into Piazza Signorelli eventually drowning out all other sound, even that of my own heartbeat. The drummers marched around the perimeter of the performance area and lined up against a building in the back, still playing. Each of the 5 quintieri, neighborhoods, of Cortona were introduced individually, accompanied by trumpeting, drumming, and a standard bearer followed by members of the quintieri in luxurious costumes made of velvet, silk, satin, and brocade in a rainbow of rich hues. The 5 quintieri of Cortona are San Vincenzo, San Marco-Poggio, San’ Andrea, Peccioverardi, and Santa Maria, which is my neighborhood.
The wedding party then entered the piazza, heralded by trumpeters, under a canopy made of lengths of white cloth attached to long wooden poles wrapped in white satin ribbon and carried by young women dressed fairy-like in diaphanous white gowns. The betrothed couple, dressed in elaborate costumes of ivory, gold, and rich brown, were seated at the wooden table for a brief marriage ceremony, then retreated to chairs under the awning to observe the entertainment. The flag throwers appeared and performed several routines and demonstrations of their flag tossing prowess; the young fairies danced and leaped nimbly, toes pointed, like woodland sprites; and a small group of men performed dangerous maneuvers with long, flaming torches. One intrepid soul was a flame thrower who opened his mouth wide and sent billowing columns of red hot flames arcing high into the air. After this awe-inspiring display, a representative of each neighborhood approached the newly wedded couple to offer a gift, and the lovely bride, crowned with a golden headpiece and a long ivory veil, curtseyed as each gift was presented and accepted.
For the final ceremony of the evening a beautifully dressed young man was brought forth and a red satin cloth tied around his eyes to hide them. He then reached into a tall yellow urn and selected five balls, one at a time, to determine the order in which each neighborhood would shoot in Sunday’s crossbow competition. It came to my mind that my neighborhood, Santa Maria, would be the final competitor, and guess what? They will be! Santa Maria has not won the archery competition since 1994 and I think they’re long overdue! I am enlisting the help of the Universe and La Santa for tomorrow’s contest!
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