Friday, October 31, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Buon Compleanno
I saw Frances Mays at the fruit seller’s in Cortona today. And her Italian is even worse than mine.
I also encountered my elderly Italian gentleman at Bar Signorelli with an older gentleman and two Americans. They asked me to take a picture of the four of them with their coffees. The Americans went on to introduce my friend to me as “Armando” and they said he and the other gentleman have olives trees and they, the Americans, have come each of the past four years to help with the harvest. I would have loved to have asked more questions about the olive harvest and the pressing of the oil, but didn’t want to intrude on their time together. They offered me a coffee, which I declined graciously, and returned to my table where an elderly Australian man was waiting to chat with me. I am not accustomed to being so popular!
Something mildly disturbing happened last night as I was trotting down via Roma to take my trash to the dumpster outside the walls. A lady, who I happen to know works with my friend, Terri, popped out of a side street with the son of the waiter I am so attracted to. I know she has a boyfriend…and now I wonder if it is he. Of course, that would mean that Terri knows and didn’t tell me, perhaps thinking it would just make me feel bad if I knew. I really can’t bring myself to ask her. If this woman and the waiter are a couple I really would rather Terri had done the humane thing and put me out of my misery by telling me. Perhaps I could have avoided some of the six months I have spent forlornly pining over someone who may not be single. At any rate, in a small town such as this I dare not been seen paying attention to any unavailable man, so when the waiter made eye contact and nodded at me today, I could only look away. Unrequited attraction really sucks and sometimes it’s downright painful.
Saturday, October 25th, was my birthday. I spent it in Firenze with Carol and Barbara as I had volunteered to be “Sherpa” for the day and help them on and off the train with their accumulated baggage. Their landlord had arranged for us to meet a taxi at Piazza Garibaldi which delivered us to the Camucia station. The 9:31 train duly arrived and we lugged suitcases and a rolling duffle dubbed “the body bag” onto the train and found a trio of seats together.
I spotted a woman sitting near the bathroom accompanied on either side by two, larger-than-life ceramic dogs wrapped in sheets and inserted into large tote bags. The dog figures were so large that top two feet stuck out of the tote bag, well above the length of the handles, rendering the tote useless. My companions liked the ceramic figures, but I thought they were just awful. I can’t imagine wanting a couple of three foot tall china dogs taking up space in my living room, giving me a fright in the middle of the night as I wander to the kitchen to satisfy midnight chocolate craving. The poor woman struggled off the train at the first Florence train stop with her unwieldy load and onto an elevator designed to take her to the tunnel to exit the station. Of course, like many of the train doors in Italy, the elevator failed to operate properly and we watched for 3 minutes as the doors closed and the elevator descended a mere eight inches before returning to its former position, over and over. Personally, I think she should have left those hideous dogs in the malfunctioning elevator and walked home without them, but she appeared determined.
We lugged the baggage off the train at the Santa Maria Nouvella station and walked one block to the hotel where Carol and Barbara checked in before making a quick tour through the San Lorenzo market. Barbara lived in Firenze for four months several years ago and was surprised at the changes she saw in Florence and the throngs of pedestrians crowding the sidewalks.
We walked over the jewel-encrusted Ponte Vecchio and made a right-hand turn on the street leading to Ristorante Mamma Gina’s, where Terri and I had eaten lunch three months previously. We were seated at a corner table for three in a room with a vaulted ceiling and had the same flirty waiter Terri and I had on our visit. We shared some red wine and a bruschetta with tomato appetizer, before diving into plates of pasta with meat and mushroom sauce. The waiter, Claudio, took some pictures of us before surprising me a panna cotta (cooked cream) glazed with raspberry sauce and topped with a lit candle, and singing Happy Birthday in English. We three shared the sweet, creamy dessert, but could not finish it. Flirty, the waiter, teased me about not finishing it and before I knew it he was stroking my left cheek with his finger. I am almost embarrassed to admit I thoroughly enjoyed the attention and was actually purring like a cat in the sun. Carol and Barbara insisted on treating me to lunch although I, in fact, wanted to treat them. They are such generous and gracious ladies!
After lunch we exchanged hugs and parted ways as I had some shopping to do and they, with only 2 short days in Florence, had some places they wanted to visit. I left them in search of Santa Felicita’ and the lovely Pontormo painting that brings Terri such joy, and headed off to buy myself a birthday treat, some lovely earrings I had seen back in June. I purchased a few Christmas gifts before walking back to the train station and catching the slow train to Camucia. It was a wonderful birthday and I am thankful to have spent it in such fantastic company!
I also encountered my elderly Italian gentleman at Bar Signorelli with an older gentleman and two Americans. They asked me to take a picture of the four of them with their coffees. The Americans went on to introduce my friend to me as “Armando” and they said he and the other gentleman have olives trees and they, the Americans, have come each of the past four years to help with the harvest. I would have loved to have asked more questions about the olive harvest and the pressing of the oil, but didn’t want to intrude on their time together. They offered me a coffee, which I declined graciously, and returned to my table where an elderly Australian man was waiting to chat with me. I am not accustomed to being so popular!
Something mildly disturbing happened last night as I was trotting down via Roma to take my trash to the dumpster outside the walls. A lady, who I happen to know works with my friend, Terri, popped out of a side street with the son of the waiter I am so attracted to. I know she has a boyfriend…and now I wonder if it is he. Of course, that would mean that Terri knows and didn’t tell me, perhaps thinking it would just make me feel bad if I knew. I really can’t bring myself to ask her. If this woman and the waiter are a couple I really would rather Terri had done the humane thing and put me out of my misery by telling me. Perhaps I could have avoided some of the six months I have spent forlornly pining over someone who may not be single. At any rate, in a small town such as this I dare not been seen paying attention to any unavailable man, so when the waiter made eye contact and nodded at me today, I could only look away. Unrequited attraction really sucks and sometimes it’s downright painful.
Saturday, October 25th, was my birthday. I spent it in Firenze with Carol and Barbara as I had volunteered to be “Sherpa” for the day and help them on and off the train with their accumulated baggage. Their landlord had arranged for us to meet a taxi at Piazza Garibaldi which delivered us to the Camucia station. The 9:31 train duly arrived and we lugged suitcases and a rolling duffle dubbed “the body bag” onto the train and found a trio of seats together.
I spotted a woman sitting near the bathroom accompanied on either side by two, larger-than-life ceramic dogs wrapped in sheets and inserted into large tote bags. The dog figures were so large that top two feet stuck out of the tote bag, well above the length of the handles, rendering the tote useless. My companions liked the ceramic figures, but I thought they were just awful. I can’t imagine wanting a couple of three foot tall china dogs taking up space in my living room, giving me a fright in the middle of the night as I wander to the kitchen to satisfy midnight chocolate craving. The poor woman struggled off the train at the first Florence train stop with her unwieldy load and onto an elevator designed to take her to the tunnel to exit the station. Of course, like many of the train doors in Italy, the elevator failed to operate properly and we watched for 3 minutes as the doors closed and the elevator descended a mere eight inches before returning to its former position, over and over. Personally, I think she should have left those hideous dogs in the malfunctioning elevator and walked home without them, but she appeared determined.
We lugged the baggage off the train at the Santa Maria Nouvella station and walked one block to the hotel where Carol and Barbara checked in before making a quick tour through the San Lorenzo market. Barbara lived in Firenze for four months several years ago and was surprised at the changes she saw in Florence and the throngs of pedestrians crowding the sidewalks.
We walked over the jewel-encrusted Ponte Vecchio and made a right-hand turn on the street leading to Ristorante Mamma Gina’s, where Terri and I had eaten lunch three months previously. We were seated at a corner table for three in a room with a vaulted ceiling and had the same flirty waiter Terri and I had on our visit. We shared some red wine and a bruschetta with tomato appetizer, before diving into plates of pasta with meat and mushroom sauce. The waiter, Claudio, took some pictures of us before surprising me a panna cotta (cooked cream) glazed with raspberry sauce and topped with a lit candle, and singing Happy Birthday in English. We three shared the sweet, creamy dessert, but could not finish it. Flirty, the waiter, teased me about not finishing it and before I knew it he was stroking my left cheek with his finger. I am almost embarrassed to admit I thoroughly enjoyed the attention and was actually purring like a cat in the sun. Carol and Barbara insisted on treating me to lunch although I, in fact, wanted to treat them. They are such generous and gracious ladies!
After lunch we exchanged hugs and parted ways as I had some shopping to do and they, with only 2 short days in Florence, had some places they wanted to visit. I left them in search of Santa Felicita’ and the lovely Pontormo painting that brings Terri such joy, and headed off to buy myself a birthday treat, some lovely earrings I had seen back in June. I purchased a few Christmas gifts before walking back to the train station and catching the slow train to Camucia. It was a wonderful birthday and I am thankful to have spent it in such fantastic company!
Sunday, October 26, 2008
A Party
Thursday afternoon I climbed the steep and treacherous hill to Carol and Barbara’s apartment, with its rooftop terrace and panoramic views from every window, to confirm our Saturday departure time for Firenze. They welcomed me in and we climbed myriad stairs to the living room. We agreed on a time for departure and they reported that, rather than taking the bus to the Camucia station, their landlord had arranged for a taxi. I also had a proposal to put to them and I wanted them to have time to discuss it in private before they gave me their answer Saturday. I would love to see Rome; the Vatican, the coliseum, anything and everything, and since they were going next week I proposed to meet them there and join them for some sightseeing. I didn’t, however, want them to feel obligated to include me on their vacation, and was surprised when they agreed immediately.
I will take a train to the Roma, which is a straight shot from here in Camucia, and meet them at the Termini station near the book store on Wednesday, October 29. They will be taking a train from Assisi the same day. They are staying near the Pantheon so I will attempt to book a hotel in the same general area. I booked a tour of the Vatican for $70, the same tour on which Carol is booked and which Barbara later booked when her “after hours” tour fell through. It is expensive; however it is a 3 hour tour which enables us to skip the long (2 hours) wait in line for entrance to the Vatican. I am very excited about this big adventure and very appreciative that these ladies are willing to include me as it is just not something I would do alone.
The three of us walked to via Nazionale for an aperativi (before dinner drink) and encountered Perry who said, “I was just looking for you.” The previous week we had discussed getting together for my birthday with Michael and Terri. Since Michael was leaving for a vacation home to England the next day, tonight was the night. Carol and Barbara were invited to join us at Fuflun’s at 8:00 for the festivities. After a lovely glass of Chardonnay, I ran home to clean up and change clothes before dinner. I actually arrived at Fuflun’s ahead of everyone else, but since Terri had the foresight to make a reservation it wasn’t a problem. In due course everyone joined us and I was surprised to be gifted with a magnet of Cortona, a cute little bowl decorated with a sunflower and a spout for an olive oil bottle. Such lovely gifts!
Appetizers’, salads, and plates of pasta were ordered, my old favorite tagliatelle al ragu’ for me. Several bottles of red wine were requested and the conversations became louder and more boisterous as the level on the wine bottles declined. I would say we were fairly obnoxious by the end of dinner, but having a blast all the same. We adjourned to a local bar after dinner and my companions had mixed drinks while I stuck to a small coffee with a shot of Bailey’s Irish Cream. A friend of Michael’s, who is also intuitive like Carol, joined us and he and Carol engaged in some mutual, alcohol-fueled intuitive readings. She expanded my reading to inform me that in addition to a “big rock”, I would be leaving in a house near a lake with the balding attorney, who is also overweight, and we would be losing weight together. About this time, I am visualizing a short, portly, neurotic man like George in the Seinfeld TV series. Carol quickly corrected me, “He’s a NICE man.”, she stated.
After closing that bar, we walked to the head of via Nazionale to the Route 66 disco where we met an American woman traveling alone. She shared her bottle of wine with us and another bottle was ordered. She has done something similar to what I’ve done, quit her job and run off to Europe. She was very thin and pretty, with long, red hair and the two men in our group quickly refocused their attention on her, one of them saying, “You have beautiful hair.” I will say that she did not seem particularly interested in either man and was more interested to sitting with the women of the group. What is it with men? They are swayed by every pretty face that passes by. I am not at all secure of my ability to hold any man’s attention for the long term as I am sure their eyes will follow every slim, pretty woman who walks past. Oh well.
Route 66 closed about 30 minutes after our arrival, by which time it was 2 AM. We all headed our separate ways with the exception of Terri and Perry who escaped to Perry’s to finish the last bottle of wine. They later told me they stayed up until 7:30 AM. Subsequent encounters with them in the following days showed two weary people with red-rimmed eyes. It was a great party!
I will take a train to the Roma, which is a straight shot from here in Camucia, and meet them at the Termini station near the book store on Wednesday, October 29. They will be taking a train from Assisi the same day. They are staying near the Pantheon so I will attempt to book a hotel in the same general area. I booked a tour of the Vatican for $70, the same tour on which Carol is booked and which Barbara later booked when her “after hours” tour fell through. It is expensive; however it is a 3 hour tour which enables us to skip the long (2 hours) wait in line for entrance to the Vatican. I am very excited about this big adventure and very appreciative that these ladies are willing to include me as it is just not something I would do alone.
The three of us walked to via Nazionale for an aperativi (before dinner drink) and encountered Perry who said, “I was just looking for you.” The previous week we had discussed getting together for my birthday with Michael and Terri. Since Michael was leaving for a vacation home to England the next day, tonight was the night. Carol and Barbara were invited to join us at Fuflun’s at 8:00 for the festivities. After a lovely glass of Chardonnay, I ran home to clean up and change clothes before dinner. I actually arrived at Fuflun’s ahead of everyone else, but since Terri had the foresight to make a reservation it wasn’t a problem. In due course everyone joined us and I was surprised to be gifted with a magnet of Cortona, a cute little bowl decorated with a sunflower and a spout for an olive oil bottle. Such lovely gifts!
Appetizers’, salads, and plates of pasta were ordered, my old favorite tagliatelle al ragu’ for me. Several bottles of red wine were requested and the conversations became louder and more boisterous as the level on the wine bottles declined. I would say we were fairly obnoxious by the end of dinner, but having a blast all the same. We adjourned to a local bar after dinner and my companions had mixed drinks while I stuck to a small coffee with a shot of Bailey’s Irish Cream. A friend of Michael’s, who is also intuitive like Carol, joined us and he and Carol engaged in some mutual, alcohol-fueled intuitive readings. She expanded my reading to inform me that in addition to a “big rock”, I would be leaving in a house near a lake with the balding attorney, who is also overweight, and we would be losing weight together. About this time, I am visualizing a short, portly, neurotic man like George in the Seinfeld TV series. Carol quickly corrected me, “He’s a NICE man.”, she stated.
After closing that bar, we walked to the head of via Nazionale to the Route 66 disco where we met an American woman traveling alone. She shared her bottle of wine with us and another bottle was ordered. She has done something similar to what I’ve done, quit her job and run off to Europe. She was very thin and pretty, with long, red hair and the two men in our group quickly refocused their attention on her, one of them saying, “You have beautiful hair.” I will say that she did not seem particularly interested in either man and was more interested to sitting with the women of the group. What is it with men? They are swayed by every pretty face that passes by. I am not at all secure of my ability to hold any man’s attention for the long term as I am sure their eyes will follow every slim, pretty woman who walks past. Oh well.
Route 66 closed about 30 minutes after our arrival, by which time it was 2 AM. We all headed our separate ways with the exception of Terri and Perry who escaped to Perry’s to finish the last bottle of wine. They later told me they stayed up until 7:30 AM. Subsequent encounters with them in the following days showed two weary people with red-rimmed eyes. It was a great party!
The Joy of Friends
I am so lucky to have met some wonderful people on this journey and, particularly, here in Cortona. A friend told me, not long ago, about an incident I had long since forgotten. Apparently we were talking about family and friends and the importance of each in one’s life. This particular friend is not especially close to her family emotionally, has not married, and although she truly wanted children, her destiny has not afforded her that opportunity. She depends greatly on the close friends that she has and during a discussion I, who was lucky enough to have a husband and children of my own at the time, told her that friends are fine, but it’s FAMILY that really stands by you in times of need and it’s family who will be there walking us through the shadows as this physical life ebbs and comes to its conclusion. She told me recently how much pain my comment has caused her. It must have seemed as if I was flinging my good fortune at having children in her face. To say I felt, and still feel, terrible would be an understatement. That I could be so arrogant about my fortune in telling her that friendships are secondary to family relationships still floors me.
What’s more, over the past 5-10 years my opinion of the role of the various relationships in our lives has been completely altered. Families are incredibly wonderful and I consider myself lucky to have both of my parents in my life and to have been gifted with two sons. However, I now realize that having a blood family does not necessarily mean that those family ties are strong, close, and emotionally nurturing. Relationships are complicated and come with no guarantees. As I have matured, the value I place on my few friendships has increased tenfold. There is something so fundamentally different about family, who may well be in one’s life out of guilt or duty, and friends, who share your life because they want to. A lucky few have loving relationships with both family and friends.
On that note, my new friends, Barbara and Carol and I took the bus to Arezzo on Tuesday and walked a mile to pick up the rental car, a slightly dinged up, silver Fiat Punto, my rental car of choice in Italy. Barbara elected to sit in back where she caught up on some much needed rest while Carol and I chatted our way to San Gimignano. The heavy mist and fog cast each small town in a shroud of mystery. The leaves on the trees and the grape vines, now stripped of their precious bunches of sweet grapes, are turning gentle shades of yellow and orange.
Upon reaching San Gimignano, we dropped Barbara at the front gate to save her the walk up from the parking lot, and Carol and I parked the car and walked up to meet Barbara. Along the way we walked past a stone wall and under an arch covered in vines, whose leaves had turned the most beautiful shade of rich, pink-red, accented with tiny, blue berries. We stopped to take pictures, which I posted on the Blog earlier this week. We each wandered the town doing a bit of shopping and taking pictures. Carol absolutely loved the town and was very glad we’d come. We took a leisurely lunch at La Stella, The Star, and we shared an appetizer of prosciutto, salami, and Pane Toscano then main dishes of pasta. We had a long conversation about our Spiritual beliefs and past readings we have received from Intuitives. Carol is also intuitive and told me she saw a “big diamond” in my future along with a really nice man, who is possibly an attorney. I guess time will tell.
We had a drink at an outdoor café, eiscafe’ for me, and drove back to Cortona where Carol and I tried to figure out the whole gas pumping self-serve mystery. The hardest part for me was putting the gas cap back in and, finally, Carol took over and completed the task as I was obviously unable. What a nice day with friends!
What’s more, over the past 5-10 years my opinion of the role of the various relationships in our lives has been completely altered. Families are incredibly wonderful and I consider myself lucky to have both of my parents in my life and to have been gifted with two sons. However, I now realize that having a blood family does not necessarily mean that those family ties are strong, close, and emotionally nurturing. Relationships are complicated and come with no guarantees. As I have matured, the value I place on my few friendships has increased tenfold. There is something so fundamentally different about family, who may well be in one’s life out of guilt or duty, and friends, who share your life because they want to. A lucky few have loving relationships with both family and friends.
On that note, my new friends, Barbara and Carol and I took the bus to Arezzo on Tuesday and walked a mile to pick up the rental car, a slightly dinged up, silver Fiat Punto, my rental car of choice in Italy. Barbara elected to sit in back where she caught up on some much needed rest while Carol and I chatted our way to San Gimignano. The heavy mist and fog cast each small town in a shroud of mystery. The leaves on the trees and the grape vines, now stripped of their precious bunches of sweet grapes, are turning gentle shades of yellow and orange.
Upon reaching San Gimignano, we dropped Barbara at the front gate to save her the walk up from the parking lot, and Carol and I parked the car and walked up to meet Barbara. Along the way we walked past a stone wall and under an arch covered in vines, whose leaves had turned the most beautiful shade of rich, pink-red, accented with tiny, blue berries. We stopped to take pictures, which I posted on the Blog earlier this week. We each wandered the town doing a bit of shopping and taking pictures. Carol absolutely loved the town and was very glad we’d come. We took a leisurely lunch at La Stella, The Star, and we shared an appetizer of prosciutto, salami, and Pane Toscano then main dishes of pasta. We had a long conversation about our Spiritual beliefs and past readings we have received from Intuitives. Carol is also intuitive and told me she saw a “big diamond” in my future along with a really nice man, who is possibly an attorney. I guess time will tell.
We had a drink at an outdoor café, eiscafe’ for me, and drove back to Cortona where Carol and I tried to figure out the whole gas pumping self-serve mystery. The hardest part for me was putting the gas cap back in and, finally, Carol took over and completed the task as I was obviously unable. What a nice day with friends!
Friday, October 24, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Osteria del Teatro
I met Barbara and Carol near Bar Signorelli and we walked around the corner and up the hill to the restaurant where they had made a dinner reservation. We were shown to our table in the back room by a young, dark-haired waiter who left us with both English and wine menus. Another older waiter brought us a tall, while candle which he lit and left on the table. I ordered a rare glass of red wine while my companions each had a small bottle. After placing our order, we relaxed and chatted until we were interrupted by the rough sound of large cardboard boxes being cut down for disposal. Amazed that such a task would be performed in a nice restaurant at dinner time, we turned to discover that the sound was actually that of a woman slicing enormous loaves of the impossibly tough saltless local bread, Pane Toscano, with a large, sharp knife. A basket of this tasteless stuff was later delivered to our table and went largely uneaten. I find I need to douse it with good olive oil and salt to really be able to eat it.
In due time dinner arrived: long, hand-rolled strands of pici pasta coated with the wonderful, rich Tuscan red meat sauce for me; tortellini stuffed with pears and cheese for one of my companions and pasta with lemon and scallops for the other. We all agreed we couldn’t eat the two plus courses most Italians eat so we elected to get a “primo”, first, followed by dessert. The waiter quickly reappeared wielding the biggest pepper grinder I have ever seen. It was at least 3 feet long, constructed made of wood, and we were offered a grinding of “big pepper”. I suppose the purpose of the grinder was so that the waiter could pepper the meals of all diners without actually walking around the table. It’s likely a good thing I am not employed at that restaurant as I am fairly certain that I would leave the dining room in a cloud of pepper and a cacophony of sneezes having dosed every tie, bosom, and crystal goblet of wine with a liberal coating of tiny black specks.
Dessert was a cooked pear served, with stem attached, swimming in a bath of warm, melted, semi-sweet chocolate. Yum! It was so decadent and sensual it should have been consumed in the nude with a partner!
During dinner the ladies and I decided to pool our resources to rent a car the following and drive to San Gimignano which Carol had never seen. We made an online reservation agreeing to a ridiculous amount of money with plans to meet at Piazza Garibaldi to catch the bus to Arezzo at 8:30 the following morning. We quickly ran to the tobacco shop before it closed for the night to purchase our bus tickets and the ladies walked me back to the Mansard for the “grand tour”.
In due time dinner arrived: long, hand-rolled strands of pici pasta coated with the wonderful, rich Tuscan red meat sauce for me; tortellini stuffed with pears and cheese for one of my companions and pasta with lemon and scallops for the other. We all agreed we couldn’t eat the two plus courses most Italians eat so we elected to get a “primo”, first, followed by dessert. The waiter quickly reappeared wielding the biggest pepper grinder I have ever seen. It was at least 3 feet long, constructed made of wood, and we were offered a grinding of “big pepper”. I suppose the purpose of the grinder was so that the waiter could pepper the meals of all diners without actually walking around the table. It’s likely a good thing I am not employed at that restaurant as I am fairly certain that I would leave the dining room in a cloud of pepper and a cacophony of sneezes having dosed every tie, bosom, and crystal goblet of wine with a liberal coating of tiny black specks.
Dessert was a cooked pear served, with stem attached, swimming in a bath of warm, melted, semi-sweet chocolate. Yum! It was so decadent and sensual it should have been consumed in the nude with a partner!
During dinner the ladies and I decided to pool our resources to rent a car the following and drive to San Gimignano which Carol had never seen. We made an online reservation agreeing to a ridiculous amount of money with plans to meet at Piazza Garibaldi to catch the bus to Arezzo at 8:30 the following morning. We quickly ran to the tobacco shop before it closed for the night to purchase our bus tickets and the ladies walked me back to the Mansard for the “grand tour”.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
A Compliment
Monday, after coffee and a ritualistic daily trip to the internet point, I treated myself to lunch at Fufluns. I sat at a table in the small side room with the arched, red brick ceiling so reminiscent of a wine cellar, and tried to decide between tagliatelle al ragu’ or my favorite pizza crostone. I have not indulged in the wonderful rich, red, Tuscan meat sauce since my return to Italy and, while I was sorely tempted, I stayed true to my old favorite, pizza crostone. I read a bit while awaiting my pizza and overheard two American women sitting at the table directly to the left of me. I eventually struck up a conversation and we three chatted away through lunch. They are here in Cortona for one week and then will visit Florence, Asissi, and Rome to complete their 2 week visit. Both ladies, Carol and Barbara, have visited Italy many times and Barbara speaks Italian about as well as I do, due in large part to an informal conversational Italian class she takes as a member of an Italian organization in San Diego where she lives. At the end of lunch I was surprised and delighted to have been invited to join Carol and Barbara for dinner. I wasn’t sure where the restaurant was, so we agreed to meet in front of Snoopy Gelateria at 7:30.
I took my leftover pizza home in a box and wouldn’t you know I came face to face with the waiter on via Roma. You know, as a larger lady, I hate being seen eating unhealthy food or carrying large food boxes through the streets, so I was none too happy to have been caught by the waiter. He was wearing a white button-down shirt and black dress pants with a royal blue sweater tied around his shoulders by the sleeves and he looked great! He mouthed a silent greeting at me as we passed like two ships bound for different ports of call.
Maria caught be on the way upstairs and invited me for a walk later that afternoon. We drove partway to the Monastery, Le Celle, The Cells, where she attends church, parked the car and continued by foot. We visited San Francesco’s cell as we had during our visit last spring and I took a picture in the small chapel adjacent to his cell. The bubbling torrent of water running down hill through the monastery has dried up leaving just a few determined puddles of water behind. I am so glad that I took some pictures of the stream on my last visit. The woods were quiet and peaceful as we strolled over the arched bridge and up the hill to the parking lot. The walk back to the car was up and down a number of hills but the sun was warm on our faces and we walked slowly savoring the tranquility. Maria mentioned that she had run into the elderly gentleman who used to stop me to discuss the weather, the man with the face sculpted by a life of joy and happiness. He lives in our alley and he stopped her to mention he’d noticed that I had returned to visit and had lost weight.
I dressed for dinner in my “Cruella de Vil” purple shirt, so named because it has a rather high cruel collar, an open neck, and a bodice fastened by tiny buttons, reminding of me something wore by the evil villan in the 101 Dalmations movie, along with a new necklace purchased from the shop Terri works in containing dangling tiers of purple, pink and gold-colored beads. While departing my alley I encountered my elderly friend whom I greeted. He stopped, grasped my hand and complimented me on my weight loss saying I was “piu’ magra e piu’ bella”, slimmer and prettier. He continued on for quite some time and, true to form, I understood only about 10% of the conversation. Somehow it didn’t matter. I understood what he wanted to tell me and appreciated his kindness and effort in doing so. I notice that he no longer talks to me about the weather, however he has begun to wink at me every time I encounter him in the piazza. What a flirt!
I took my leftover pizza home in a box and wouldn’t you know I came face to face with the waiter on via Roma. You know, as a larger lady, I hate being seen eating unhealthy food or carrying large food boxes through the streets, so I was none too happy to have been caught by the waiter. He was wearing a white button-down shirt and black dress pants with a royal blue sweater tied around his shoulders by the sleeves and he looked great! He mouthed a silent greeting at me as we passed like two ships bound for different ports of call.
Maria caught be on the way upstairs and invited me for a walk later that afternoon. We drove partway to the Monastery, Le Celle, The Cells, where she attends church, parked the car and continued by foot. We visited San Francesco’s cell as we had during our visit last spring and I took a picture in the small chapel adjacent to his cell. The bubbling torrent of water running down hill through the monastery has dried up leaving just a few determined puddles of water behind. I am so glad that I took some pictures of the stream on my last visit. The woods were quiet and peaceful as we strolled over the arched bridge and up the hill to the parking lot. The walk back to the car was up and down a number of hills but the sun was warm on our faces and we walked slowly savoring the tranquility. Maria mentioned that she had run into the elderly gentleman who used to stop me to discuss the weather, the man with the face sculpted by a life of joy and happiness. He lives in our alley and he stopped her to mention he’d noticed that I had returned to visit and had lost weight.
I dressed for dinner in my “Cruella de Vil” purple shirt, so named because it has a rather high cruel collar, an open neck, and a bodice fastened by tiny buttons, reminding of me something wore by the evil villan in the 101 Dalmations movie, along with a new necklace purchased from the shop Terri works in containing dangling tiers of purple, pink and gold-colored beads. While departing my alley I encountered my elderly friend whom I greeted. He stopped, grasped my hand and complimented me on my weight loss saying I was “piu’ magra e piu’ bella”, slimmer and prettier. He continued on for quite some time and, true to form, I understood only about 10% of the conversation. Somehow it didn’t matter. I understood what he wanted to tell me and appreciated his kindness and effort in doing so. I notice that he no longer talks to me about the weather, however he has begun to wink at me every time I encounter him in the piazza. What a flirt!
Monday, October 20, 2008
A Sudden Longing
All of a sudden I am homesick and longing for my home, family, pets, and to be near those who love me. It came over me like a curtain falling on a darkened stage yesterday, October 17. I will not be coming home early as I would have to spend a large amount for a ticket and I could not ask Maria for a refund as I know she depends on this income, so I will just use this time to work on my continued growth. I always felt that I would know when it was time to return home and I feel that time is nearing. I had such a nice talk with my boys and Tim last Sunday evening. The boys are growing and changing so quickly, and while this break was good for us all, I miss being a part of their lives.
I had a bout of the flu earlier in the week, mild, but unpleasant. It struck without warning as I walked in the park and I was glad to be near the public restroom. Maria was a dear and made me chamomile tea in a blue mug to settle my stomach and later brought up vegetable soup, blended smooth so as not to upset my tummy. Such kindness.
Yesterday I received a box of paperback books, generously sent by my mother. It felt like a celebration as I cut open the brown package and toss bits of crumpled newspaper to the side to uncover the surprises concealed within. A little bit of home all wrapped up in love to let me know I have not been forgotten.
It’s Saturday, market day, and my favorite porchetta man built me a huge, yummy sandwich which I am eating as I write this. I am beginning to understand a bit more of the language, but not so much that I really understand a conversation. I am beginning to differentiate people’s names from other words in a conversation and its makes me feel more a part of things when I know the names of those I see on a daily basis.
The lady at the internet site recognized me and shook my hand when I first saw her on my return. She is back to charging me for internet usage only every other day or so, rather than every day like she charges most people. While at the internet point today, three rather scantily-clad and generously proportioned American women walked in yelling, “Do you speak English? Do you speak Russian?” and laughing loudly. The one proceeded to stare down my cleavage so much that I nearly said something to her. All three spoke and laughed in raucous voices, horribly mispronouncing words in their feeble attempt to say “grazie”, and seemed to relish the attention they attracted. Just the kind of American tourist I strive NOT to be, but perhaps I am becoming a snob.
I had dinner with Perry and Michael earlier in the week at Perry’s house and, like true gentleman, they walked me home afterwards. I gave them the “grand tour” and chuckled about the excitement they showed over my automatic dishwasher. I hadn’t the heart to tell them that I never use it! Perry’s little ground-floor apartment is interesting. It’s located on a steep hill and the interior walls are brick. The kitchen still contains the manger with iron rings on the wall above where the animals were tethered during the room’s former use as a barn. In a deep nook in the living room, behind a window and hinged iron bars, is an acnient well still containing water. Perry days that rain water drains down the inside of the walls of the abode and into the well. He figures if he installs a pool ladder for access and finds a way to heat and agitate the water he’ll have a great party hot tub!
It is my birthday next Saturday. The big 4-6, and Maria and I plan to celebrate together. Perhaps we’ll share a drink at a bar or here at home. It will be nice to share my day with someone, but of course, my thoughts will be home.
I had a bout of the flu earlier in the week, mild, but unpleasant. It struck without warning as I walked in the park and I was glad to be near the public restroom. Maria was a dear and made me chamomile tea in a blue mug to settle my stomach and later brought up vegetable soup, blended smooth so as not to upset my tummy. Such kindness.
Yesterday I received a box of paperback books, generously sent by my mother. It felt like a celebration as I cut open the brown package and toss bits of crumpled newspaper to the side to uncover the surprises concealed within. A little bit of home all wrapped up in love to let me know I have not been forgotten.
It’s Saturday, market day, and my favorite porchetta man built me a huge, yummy sandwich which I am eating as I write this. I am beginning to understand a bit more of the language, but not so much that I really understand a conversation. I am beginning to differentiate people’s names from other words in a conversation and its makes me feel more a part of things when I know the names of those I see on a daily basis.
The lady at the internet site recognized me and shook my hand when I first saw her on my return. She is back to charging me for internet usage only every other day or so, rather than every day like she charges most people. While at the internet point today, three rather scantily-clad and generously proportioned American women walked in yelling, “Do you speak English? Do you speak Russian?” and laughing loudly. The one proceeded to stare down my cleavage so much that I nearly said something to her. All three spoke and laughed in raucous voices, horribly mispronouncing words in their feeble attempt to say “grazie”, and seemed to relish the attention they attracted. Just the kind of American tourist I strive NOT to be, but perhaps I am becoming a snob.
I had dinner with Perry and Michael earlier in the week at Perry’s house and, like true gentleman, they walked me home afterwards. I gave them the “grand tour” and chuckled about the excitement they showed over my automatic dishwasher. I hadn’t the heart to tell them that I never use it! Perry’s little ground-floor apartment is interesting. It’s located on a steep hill and the interior walls are brick. The kitchen still contains the manger with iron rings on the wall above where the animals were tethered during the room’s former use as a barn. In a deep nook in the living room, behind a window and hinged iron bars, is an acnient well still containing water. Perry days that rain water drains down the inside of the walls of the abode and into the well. He figures if he installs a pool ladder for access and finds a way to heat and agitate the water he’ll have a great party hot tub!
It is my birthday next Saturday. The big 4-6, and Maria and I plan to celebrate together. Perhaps we’ll share a drink at a bar or here at home. It will be nice to share my day with someone, but of course, my thoughts will be home.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Good News and Bad News
I have good news and bad news. And it’s the same. I finally stopped by the farmacia, pharmacy, during a passegiata with Maria and hopped on the scale. The good news is that in spite of eating my way ‘round Europe, I have officially lost 45.25 pounds. The bad news is that, had I exhibited more self-restraint, I could easily have lost 60 pounds. I love to eat, and I am compulsive about it…a bad combination for weight control. However, I could easily have gained weight, so I am thankful for the progress I have made.
My days have settled into their old familiar cadence. Coffee in the morning (and a smile to the waiter), a stop by the internet point, then shopping for the day’s necessities, then housework, a walk, a rest in the afternoon, and dinner and TV in the evening.
The weather since my return has been glorious. Warm, slightly breezy days with incredibly beautiful sunsets. The leaves are falling and the ground is littered with chestnuts. Maria tells me that some are good for eating and some are not. The Val di chiana is turning from lush and brilliant green to brown as it prepares to slumber for the winter, and soon it will be the olive harvest. Perhaps somewhere nearby a truffle hound, his quivering nose to the ground, searches for a telltale scent in a clearing beneath a tree, his master ready to snatch the valuable jewel from between his jaws.
On my first full day back, Friday, I walked down via Nazionale and saw my British friend, Michael, who was nearly speechless upon seeing me. He jumped to his feet, and gave me a warm hug and a two-cheeked kiss, as did Perry, my other British friend who accompanied Michael. So nice to see friends again and their warm greeting did much to make me feel welcome. I sat with them and chatted for several hours. Upon hearing that I have never tried the luscious chocolates made at Cacao, a local shop, Michael disappeared down the street and brought not one, but nine yummy chocolates for me. I shared them around, but savored most for myself. What a kind and generous friend! I met Terri for dinner at Fuflun’s and we ate pizza and caught up on each other’s lives. She is so beautiful and it’s such a joy to see her again!
Maria was kind enough to drive me down to the newly expanded Coop store to stock up on some provisions yesterday. Things are just so much cheaper at Coop than what can be purchased up on the hill and I enjoy the larger selection of items. She and I decided we would celebrate my upcoming birthday together. Also, she seemed really to like the picture of Laura I had printed and framed for her. “Sua bambina”, your baby, I told her as she peeled back the hand-painted, silver gift paper. What better gift for a mother?
My days have settled into their old familiar cadence. Coffee in the morning (and a smile to the waiter), a stop by the internet point, then shopping for the day’s necessities, then housework, a walk, a rest in the afternoon, and dinner and TV in the evening.
The weather since my return has been glorious. Warm, slightly breezy days with incredibly beautiful sunsets. The leaves are falling and the ground is littered with chestnuts. Maria tells me that some are good for eating and some are not. The Val di chiana is turning from lush and brilliant green to brown as it prepares to slumber for the winter, and soon it will be the olive harvest. Perhaps somewhere nearby a truffle hound, his quivering nose to the ground, searches for a telltale scent in a clearing beneath a tree, his master ready to snatch the valuable jewel from between his jaws.
On my first full day back, Friday, I walked down via Nazionale and saw my British friend, Michael, who was nearly speechless upon seeing me. He jumped to his feet, and gave me a warm hug and a two-cheeked kiss, as did Perry, my other British friend who accompanied Michael. So nice to see friends again and their warm greeting did much to make me feel welcome. I sat with them and chatted for several hours. Upon hearing that I have never tried the luscious chocolates made at Cacao, a local shop, Michael disappeared down the street and brought not one, but nine yummy chocolates for me. I shared them around, but savored most for myself. What a kind and generous friend! I met Terri for dinner at Fuflun’s and we ate pizza and caught up on each other’s lives. She is so beautiful and it’s such a joy to see her again!
Maria was kind enough to drive me down to the newly expanded Coop store to stock up on some provisions yesterday. Things are just so much cheaper at Coop than what can be purchased up on the hill and I enjoy the larger selection of items. She and I decided we would celebrate my upcoming birthday together. Also, she seemed really to like the picture of Laura I had printed and framed for her. “Sua bambina”, your baby, I told her as she peeled back the hand-painted, silver gift paper. What better gift for a mother?
Monday, October 13, 2008
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Coming Home
Before leaving Strasbourg, I walked to a bakery on the next street over form Grand ‘Rue and bought a baguette garnished with salami, and lettuce. It was simply marvelous! At 11:30 my landlord, Francoise, came down to look at the apartment and I had to show her the cracked toilet seat which has taken to pinching my leg painfully leaving behind a row of partially healed scabs. I offered to pay for a replacement as I may have dropped the seat, damaging it, while I was cleaning. I just don’t know. Francoise declined my offer and wished me well on my way.
I loaded my heavy carry on on my back like a pack mule, grasped my steamer truck in one hand and my backpack/purse in the other, and headed off the “Grand Isle” toward the train station. Tiny drops of rain began to pitter pat on the pavement as I reached the bus stop near the train station. Fortunately I had to wait only about five minutes before the bright yellow Lufthansa bus arrived and the driver kindly opened the luggage compartment and helped me stow the truck beneath the bus. I chose a prime seat…in vicinity of the bathroom, of course. I dozed fitfully, waking several times to find my mouth hanging open unattractively. I hope I didn’t disturb the other passengers with my snoring. The drive to Frankfurt was beautiful with the trees wearing their autumn coats in shades of yellow, orange, and red. A landscape painted by the hand of a Master.
It was quick work to check in, get my boarding pass, clear security, and locate my gate. The flight was pleasant and uneventful and I was happy to discover that my seat belt now closed easily and I could tighten my belt about 1 ½ inches. A far cry from the painful squeezing I received on arrival in April! My suitcase arrived without incident and I was off on my way to the bus stop. A review of the bus timetable revealed that I just missed the bus and the next was not scheduled for 50 minutes. Two other ladies found themselves in the same situation so we decided to spend a bit more and share a taxi to the Florence train station, Santa Maria Nouvella. I used the automatic ticket dispenser to buy a train ticket to Camucia, the city at the foot of the hill on which Cortona rests. I also called Maria to give her my estimate time of arrival, but had to leave a message. Entering the last car on the Chiusi train, I found a seat and stowed my gear next to me for the 1 hour 45 minute trip. A smiling half moon followed me from Firenze to Camucia and I knew the Universe was smiling on me when the train door opened easily and I dragged my luggage off to find Maria waiting on the platform.
We chattered away, catching up on all the news, during the short drive up the hill. Maria has let her hair return to its normal wavy style and it’s so flattering on her! She shared a bowl of delicious homemade vegetable soup as I hadn’t eaten in hours and then I took a quick walk around town to make sure everything was the same (as Terri later commented rather drily, “Cortona hasn’t changed in 3000 years.”) before curling up in my familiar bed. I am home.
I loaded my heavy carry on on my back like a pack mule, grasped my steamer truck in one hand and my backpack/purse in the other, and headed off the “Grand Isle” toward the train station. Tiny drops of rain began to pitter pat on the pavement as I reached the bus stop near the train station. Fortunately I had to wait only about five minutes before the bright yellow Lufthansa bus arrived and the driver kindly opened the luggage compartment and helped me stow the truck beneath the bus. I chose a prime seat…in vicinity of the bathroom, of course. I dozed fitfully, waking several times to find my mouth hanging open unattractively. I hope I didn’t disturb the other passengers with my snoring. The drive to Frankfurt was beautiful with the trees wearing their autumn coats in shades of yellow, orange, and red. A landscape painted by the hand of a Master.
It was quick work to check in, get my boarding pass, clear security, and locate my gate. The flight was pleasant and uneventful and I was happy to discover that my seat belt now closed easily and I could tighten my belt about 1 ½ inches. A far cry from the painful squeezing I received on arrival in April! My suitcase arrived without incident and I was off on my way to the bus stop. A review of the bus timetable revealed that I just missed the bus and the next was not scheduled for 50 minutes. Two other ladies found themselves in the same situation so we decided to spend a bit more and share a taxi to the Florence train station, Santa Maria Nouvella. I used the automatic ticket dispenser to buy a train ticket to Camucia, the city at the foot of the hill on which Cortona rests. I also called Maria to give her my estimate time of arrival, but had to leave a message. Entering the last car on the Chiusi train, I found a seat and stowed my gear next to me for the 1 hour 45 minute trip. A smiling half moon followed me from Firenze to Camucia and I knew the Universe was smiling on me when the train door opened easily and I dragged my luggage off to find Maria waiting on the platform.
We chattered away, catching up on all the news, during the short drive up the hill. Maria has let her hair return to its normal wavy style and it’s so flattering on her! She shared a bowl of delicious homemade vegetable soup as I hadn’t eaten in hours and then I took a quick walk around town to make sure everything was the same (as Terri later commented rather drily, “Cortona hasn’t changed in 3000 years.”) before curling up in my familiar bed. I am home.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Saturday, October 4, 2008
People, Weather, and Dreams
I like to sit at the same table at the cafe each morning because, as mentioned before, I am a creature of habit. I prefer to sit under the front window which gives me a panoramic view of the cafe. It is the one time of the day I am in proximity to people and I find I enjoy watching what goes on as people come and go buying breads, pastries, and quiches, or relaxing while enjoying coffee or tea and croissants. It makes me feel more a part of life here and not just a foreign speaking stranger.
I often see an older gentleman who comes to drink coffee and eat a croissant while reading the paper. He is close to 70, I would think, and wears his gray hair tied back in a neat pony tail. He sports a t-shirt with a design stretched over his generous frame, belted trousers, and a blazer. I imagine he was extremely handsome in his youth and he has a poetic and romantic look about him.
I regularly see another man while walking down the street in the opposite direction. He is rather petite, with a large head, wavy, blonde hair, and brilliantly blue eyes. He is a regular fixture at the saloon around the corner and can usually be seen holding up his end of the bar or warming a chair at a small table on the sidewalk, beer in hand. He usually makes eye contact with me, and greeted me with a, "Bon jour", when I quirked my mouth at him the other day.
All of a sudden, Christmas is in the air. Although it was 55 degrees yesterday, it felt like winter. People are wearing hats now and I have retrieved my off-white knit gloves from their home at the bottom of the suitcase. The breeze is cold and the damp air can be chilling. Sidewalk gelato carts have been stowed away and shiny, locomotive-styled chestnut roasters have been wheeled out and heated up, their vendors dispensing tiny brown paper cones of the warm treat. I have never had roasted chestnuts and I will try some before I depart on Thursday. Strasbourg hosts a large, world famous Christmas market during the month of December and I am sorry to miss it this year. There is nothing like the sights, sounds, and smells of a holiday market to get me in the spirit of the season.
Saturdays are busy in Strasbourg, with stylishly dressed couples walking arm in arm up Grand' Rue toward the majestic cathedral, and families with children and strollers in tow browse the elegantly designed window displays of the shops and boutiques in this area. I wish to have someone to hold hands with as we stroll up the street, shopping, and nipping into a cafe for a warm, luscious hot chocolate and light, fluffy croissant, stopping when tired for a romantic, dinner at a table graced by flowers and candles. I have never done that.
I often see an older gentleman who comes to drink coffee and eat a croissant while reading the paper. He is close to 70, I would think, and wears his gray hair tied back in a neat pony tail. He sports a t-shirt with a design stretched over his generous frame, belted trousers, and a blazer. I imagine he was extremely handsome in his youth and he has a poetic and romantic look about him.
I regularly see another man while walking down the street in the opposite direction. He is rather petite, with a large head, wavy, blonde hair, and brilliantly blue eyes. He is a regular fixture at the saloon around the corner and can usually be seen holding up his end of the bar or warming a chair at a small table on the sidewalk, beer in hand. He usually makes eye contact with me, and greeted me with a, "Bon jour", when I quirked my mouth at him the other day.
All of a sudden, Christmas is in the air. Although it was 55 degrees yesterday, it felt like winter. People are wearing hats now and I have retrieved my off-white knit gloves from their home at the bottom of the suitcase. The breeze is cold and the damp air can be chilling. Sidewalk gelato carts have been stowed away and shiny, locomotive-styled chestnut roasters have been wheeled out and heated up, their vendors dispensing tiny brown paper cones of the warm treat. I have never had roasted chestnuts and I will try some before I depart on Thursday. Strasbourg hosts a large, world famous Christmas market during the month of December and I am sorry to miss it this year. There is nothing like the sights, sounds, and smells of a holiday market to get me in the spirit of the season.
Saturdays are busy in Strasbourg, with stylishly dressed couples walking arm in arm up Grand' Rue toward the majestic cathedral, and families with children and strollers in tow browse the elegantly designed window displays of the shops and boutiques in this area. I wish to have someone to hold hands with as we stroll up the street, shopping, and nipping into a cafe for a warm, luscious hot chocolate and light, fluffy croissant, stopping when tired for a romantic, dinner at a table graced by flowers and candles. I have never done that.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Discovering Strasbourg
I wanted to visit the Musee Alsacien, the Alsatian Museum, so yesterday I walked across the island and over the river. I walked quite a long way around the island, looking in shops and boulangerie (bakeries) as I went. There are a fair number of Indian shops with interesting jewelry, scarves, fabrics, and other exotic treasures, however the strong smell of incense which permeates these shops and wafts out from under the door puts me off and I seldom enter, although I do enjoy looking in the windows.
When I reached the museum, which contains artifacts and recreated rooms illustrating historic life in this Alsace region of France, I found it was closed for refurbishment. I was very disappointed, however I continued to walk along the river. Eventually I passed a fork in the waterway and wandered into unknown territory. The river was quite wide by now and there were a number of boats tethered dockside, made into cafes and restaurants. I could see a large church, graced with twin spires and a large, round, stained glass window, in the distance. I have never seen this church before on my explorations and I wanted a closer look so continued on toward the magnificent structure. I carefully crossed the tracks of "the widow maker" (the tram) and approached the church, crossing back over the river to do so. I was disappointed to see the large wooden doors, decorated with wrought iron appeared to be closed firmly.
In Italy and Germany, I notice that churches are usually open to visitors in the afternoons, doors flung wide, inviting one to enter, sit, and pray. In France however, houses of worship seem to be locked up tight as though they wish to keep the sins of men, and the sinners themselves, at bay. According to my tourist information, churches do often have open hours, but with the thick doors closed, they aren't welcoming or inviting. A sad thing. Churches in the United States are like this. One isn't really welcome to stop in to commune with the Divine unless there is a service. Throw open the doors! Let people in and God out. That's what I like about my Spirituality...I can pray anywhere I like, at any time. God is there.
I had to be satisfied with taking pictures of the lovely church. I thought I saw the familiar large, green dome of the church I discovered a couple of weeks ago so I headed in that direction. When I walked a couple of long, city blocks, and the green dome no longer visible, I decided to backtrack so as not to get lost. The city is just like a maze to me, and what's worse is that the Ill River branches and circles a couple of times with some small forks, so there are a series of islands in Strasbourg. I have to be careful never to assume that by crossing the river I am back on my island. Therefore I explore slowly and carefully allowing myself to absorb each new part of the city I encounter, much like two young lovers each learning about the other.
When I reached the museum, which contains artifacts and recreated rooms illustrating historic life in this Alsace region of France, I found it was closed for refurbishment. I was very disappointed, however I continued to walk along the river. Eventually I passed a fork in the waterway and wandered into unknown territory. The river was quite wide by now and there were a number of boats tethered dockside, made into cafes and restaurants. I could see a large church, graced with twin spires and a large, round, stained glass window, in the distance. I have never seen this church before on my explorations and I wanted a closer look so continued on toward the magnificent structure. I carefully crossed the tracks of "the widow maker" (the tram) and approached the church, crossing back over the river to do so. I was disappointed to see the large wooden doors, decorated with wrought iron appeared to be closed firmly.
In Italy and Germany, I notice that churches are usually open to visitors in the afternoons, doors flung wide, inviting one to enter, sit, and pray. In France however, houses of worship seem to be locked up tight as though they wish to keep the sins of men, and the sinners themselves, at bay. According to my tourist information, churches do often have open hours, but with the thick doors closed, they aren't welcoming or inviting. A sad thing. Churches in the United States are like this. One isn't really welcome to stop in to commune with the Divine unless there is a service. Throw open the doors! Let people in and God out. That's what I like about my Spirituality...I can pray anywhere I like, at any time. God is there.
I had to be satisfied with taking pictures of the lovely church. I thought I saw the familiar large, green dome of the church I discovered a couple of weeks ago so I headed in that direction. When I walked a couple of long, city blocks, and the green dome no longer visible, I decided to backtrack so as not to get lost. The city is just like a maze to me, and what's worse is that the Ill River branches and circles a couple of times with some small forks, so there are a series of islands in Strasbourg. I have to be careful never to assume that by crossing the river I am back on my island. Therefore I explore slowly and carefully allowing myself to absorb each new part of the city I encounter, much like two young lovers each learning about the other.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
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