I gathered my oversized suitcase and heavy carry on and lugged them across the parking lot of the Peretola airport in Florence, and quickly located my rental vehicle, only to discover that the same person who designed the narrow seats on the aircraft had apparently parked the car. After squeezing the suitcase in the back by removing the hatch cover I, by way of a series of contortions worthy of an acrobat, crawled over the gear shift from the passenger seat to the driver’s and was on my way. That is, until I tried to turn the corner to exit the parking lot, only to find cars had been parked willy nilly in such a way I did not feel I could make the curve without side swiping other cars parked with flagrant disregard to the driving abilities of said American driver.
After circling the lot, I eventually made my way out a narrow exit and negotiated the entrance to the A1 Autostrada. The drive south to Tuscany passed without incident although the Italian drivers had a disconcerting habit of passing me at break neck speed then merging back into my lane before they’d cleared my front bumper. There appear to be two speeds in Italy, 20 and 120, and to drive at any other speed was to take your life into your hands! I actually encountered a man driving a miniscule and aged white vehicle so slowly I thought he must have been pedaling the thing!
The town of Arezzo had many signs advertising a McDonalds and its “McDrive”. It seemed a good place to make a pit stop as my blood sugar was dipping and I needed to avail myself of the facilities, however, in spite of ample signage I never saw the place. Apparently, I had McMissed it.
The view of Cortona arriving from Arezzo is spectacular. Perched precariously on a hill, it is a series of warm gold buildings seemingly piled one atop the other like a house of cards. After climbing the steep grade and circling a one way street three times, I was finally brave enough to park the car on a hill and locate a tobacco shop where I could purchase a telephone card with which to call my landlord, Maria, who graciously walked down to meet me. She showed me where to drive into the city walls to drop off the luggage and directed me back outside the medieval walled city to park. There are few areas with free parking so those tiny spaces are at a premium. Unfortunately, they are not always clearly marked as to whether they are free or paid parking so ones makes a guess at it and hopes for the best. I eventually parked, hugged up tight against the city wall…near a sign which warns of falling rocks.
Maria and I had a devil of a time negotiating the steep stairs to my fourth floor apartment, the “mansard”, with the luggage, but where there’s a will there’s a way. The wooden apartment door opened to reveal a beautiful and typically Tuscan room, with beamed ceilings, plastered white walls, and wide, arched windows. The ceilings are sloped as befits the top floor of an old home, and the roof tiles have pictures of diamonds, flowers, and 8-pointed stars painted on them along with a date- 1763! The apartment has funny little windows perched here and there, to include one that looks to be an old arrow slit located in an alcove of my bedroom along with the fuse box. From the living room there is an incredible view over the tiled red roofs of Cortona to the green Val di Chiana valley far below. Maria assures me that views at sunrise are spectacular. I can hardly wait!
Monday, April 7, 2008
Arrival
Sono in Italia! I am here….I’ve arrived safe, sound, and in one piece.
I was offered an earlier flight from Killeen, which was ideal as, originally, I had only an hour and 15 minutes to change planes provided all flights were on time. I was a tad worried that my hefty luggage wouldn’t make it onto my flight from Dallas to Frankfurt, Germany, but fate intervened and all was well.
My seatmate on the overseas flight was a blonde haired, blue-eyed, handsome German man who is working in Mexico. He was very friendly and personable, a fact I did not discover until we were 9 hours 15 minutes into a 9 hour 30 minute flight, but if I had to snuggle in close proximity to someone for 9 hours, I am certainly glad it was him….he was warm and soft on a very long, cold flight.
The sunrise out the tiny window was spectacular. It was as though the God’s hand painted a rainbow banner of colors from a vivid blood red, to grass green, to rich indigo across the sky with the most intensely colored crayons. I was welcomed to the first leg of my journey by beauty unlike any I had ever seen. A good sign!
I successfully located the ticket kiosk and secured the boarding pass for my connecting flight to Florence, after which I negotiated Security and was treated to the most intimate exploration of my person I had ever experienced from someone who hadn’t bought me dinner first.
After an extended 5 hour wait in Frankfurt I boarded a cramped aircraft to Florence. I was pleased to notice my large carry on fit into the overhead bin and there was an extra 2 inches of leg room I wasn’t expecting. Once I attempted to seat myself I quickly realized why there was 2 inches of extra legroom…it was because they’d removed 2 inches of width from each seat. For a moment I had a sinking feeling I wasn’t actually going to fit, but after a series of uncomfortable and ungainly heaves and wiggles I managed to insinuate my ample behind into the seat, however the strain on my hands from attempts to fasten my seatbelt caused a painful reoccurrence of Carpel Tunnel Syndrome.
Other than my relative inability to breathe and the fact that I had to cross my arms I Dream of Jeanie style so as not to crowd my neighbor, the rest of the flight proceeded without incident. Until, that is, I realized that in the process of fitting (notice I didn’t say “sitting”) in the vise-like seat, portions of my hips and thighs had oozed out under the arm handles. My crossed arms were restraining my pudgy “muffin top”, but I had developed an alarming case of “muffin bottom”. How on earth was I going to extricate myself from this vile implement of torture? Just as the law of Physics allows a too small ring to be placed on a finger, but not to be removed without a quarter cup of butter, I had a sinking feeling that a similar form of removal might have to be applied to me. I blushed in embarrassment at the imagined horror of an emergency call to the fire department from the horrified (and no doubt amused) flight crew. If I was going to be rubbed down with a pound of butter by hose swinging, yellow hip-wader wearing members of the Italian fire department, it sure as heck wasn’t going to be aboard Lufthansa flight 4062!
In the end, I grasped the seat in front of me firmly and hoisted myself, more of less gracefully, out of the clamp-like seat while my seatmate, a runner-up in last year’s Ichabod Crane look-a-like contest, carefully averted his eyes just as I had politely averted mine when he inserted an exploratory finger into his right nostril mid-flight.
A cold rain greeted me in Florence, and an unhelpful woman appeared to charge my credit card for the car rental I’d already paid for online. Of course, she kept my printed receipt. I decided to wait and deal with that issue when I return the car in Arezzo.
I was offered an earlier flight from Killeen, which was ideal as, originally, I had only an hour and 15 minutes to change planes provided all flights were on time. I was a tad worried that my hefty luggage wouldn’t make it onto my flight from Dallas to Frankfurt, Germany, but fate intervened and all was well.
My seatmate on the overseas flight was a blonde haired, blue-eyed, handsome German man who is working in Mexico. He was very friendly and personable, a fact I did not discover until we were 9 hours 15 minutes into a 9 hour 30 minute flight, but if I had to snuggle in close proximity to someone for 9 hours, I am certainly glad it was him….he was warm and soft on a very long, cold flight.
The sunrise out the tiny window was spectacular. It was as though the God’s hand painted a rainbow banner of colors from a vivid blood red, to grass green, to rich indigo across the sky with the most intensely colored crayons. I was welcomed to the first leg of my journey by beauty unlike any I had ever seen. A good sign!
I successfully located the ticket kiosk and secured the boarding pass for my connecting flight to Florence, after which I negotiated Security and was treated to the most intimate exploration of my person I had ever experienced from someone who hadn’t bought me dinner first.
After an extended 5 hour wait in Frankfurt I boarded a cramped aircraft to Florence. I was pleased to notice my large carry on fit into the overhead bin and there was an extra 2 inches of leg room I wasn’t expecting. Once I attempted to seat myself I quickly realized why there was 2 inches of extra legroom…it was because they’d removed 2 inches of width from each seat. For a moment I had a sinking feeling I wasn’t actually going to fit, but after a series of uncomfortable and ungainly heaves and wiggles I managed to insinuate my ample behind into the seat, however the strain on my hands from attempts to fasten my seatbelt caused a painful reoccurrence of Carpel Tunnel Syndrome.
Other than my relative inability to breathe and the fact that I had to cross my arms I Dream of Jeanie style so as not to crowd my neighbor, the rest of the flight proceeded without incident. Until, that is, I realized that in the process of fitting (notice I didn’t say “sitting”) in the vise-like seat, portions of my hips and thighs had oozed out under the arm handles. My crossed arms were restraining my pudgy “muffin top”, but I had developed an alarming case of “muffin bottom”. How on earth was I going to extricate myself from this vile implement of torture? Just as the law of Physics allows a too small ring to be placed on a finger, but not to be removed without a quarter cup of butter, I had a sinking feeling that a similar form of removal might have to be applied to me. I blushed in embarrassment at the imagined horror of an emergency call to the fire department from the horrified (and no doubt amused) flight crew. If I was going to be rubbed down with a pound of butter by hose swinging, yellow hip-wader wearing members of the Italian fire department, it sure as heck wasn’t going to be aboard Lufthansa flight 4062!
In the end, I grasped the seat in front of me firmly and hoisted myself, more of less gracefully, out of the clamp-like seat while my seatmate, a runner-up in last year’s Ichabod Crane look-a-like contest, carefully averted his eyes just as I had politely averted mine when he inserted an exploratory finger into his right nostril mid-flight.
A cold rain greeted me in Florence, and an unhelpful woman appeared to charge my credit card for the car rental I’d already paid for online. Of course, she kept my printed receipt. I decided to wait and deal with that issue when I return the car in Arezzo.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Goodbyes
A year ago I expressed a desire for opportunities to meet new people and increase my circle of friends. Shortly after, my wish was fulfilled in a most overwhelming way! I was offered a new job at Central Texas College as the Quality Assurance Manager of the online education program, where I made the acquaintance of a wonderful group of people. I was welcomed with opened arms by the members and faculty of the Distance Learning department and Central Texas College, including my Supervisor, Mary, who is truly one of the nicest people one could ever hope to meet. Mary's kind manner and gentle faith make her an inspiration.
Yesterday, I said, "goodbye" to this wonderful group of people with no small amount of sadness, but I will always carry them with me in my heart.
The Universe can be so gracious in providing an abundance of whatever is needed. I have only to ask...and to believe. It's the believing part that can be difficult. Believing that what I desire will come to pass, believing that I am worthy. Perhaps that's where faith comes in. It's faith that allows one to confront their own shadows, knowing the demons will be defeated, and light will come.
I have listened to others for too long...what they thought of me; believed of me. It is a self-fulfilling prophecy...you allow yourself to be what others say you are. In the past I have given up on myself and allowed others to have control of how I feel. No more. I will take back my own power and faith in myself and the good of the Universe. I am worthy of all wonderful things and I know they will come.
Only 5 days until my departure and I've learned my elder son has made an unfortunate decision which will have some long term ramifications for him. I have many worries for this child, trying desperately to be an adult, yet seemingly lacking the decision making ability to really think with maturity. I have cried many tears for this beautiful and talented young man who has chosen to walk such a tough path. As a mother, I want to care for him and make everything right, but I know I must let him learn his lessons and remember that his choices, good and bad, are not a reflection of me. Parenting is the single most difficult thing I have ever attempted, and the one that makes me feel most like a complete and total failure. One day I hope to forgive myself for my inadequacies and mistakes as a parent and as a person.
After my poignant good byes at work yesterday, I traveled to Austin for my final conversational Italian language class. Learning even a tiny bit of Italian has been a big challenge! Languages simply don't come easily to me as they seem to for some. I am always awed by those who speak two of more languages fluently. They seem somehow to just absorb the language through their skin, through some sort of osmosis, while I struggle to retain and regurgitate the simplest phrase. In class, I find myself rehearsing my answers over and over in my head before I dare to utter a word. How will I fare in Italy? I will thrive, like a flower once wilted, which awakes after a gentle yet nourishing rain. Somehow I know this journey will nourish my soul.
Yesterday, I said, "goodbye" to this wonderful group of people with no small amount of sadness, but I will always carry them with me in my heart.
The Universe can be so gracious in providing an abundance of whatever is needed. I have only to ask...and to believe. It's the believing part that can be difficult. Believing that what I desire will come to pass, believing that I am worthy. Perhaps that's where faith comes in. It's faith that allows one to confront their own shadows, knowing the demons will be defeated, and light will come.
I have listened to others for too long...what they thought of me; believed of me. It is a self-fulfilling prophecy...you allow yourself to be what others say you are. In the past I have given up on myself and allowed others to have control of how I feel. No more. I will take back my own power and faith in myself and the good of the Universe. I am worthy of all wonderful things and I know they will come.
Only 5 days until my departure and I've learned my elder son has made an unfortunate decision which will have some long term ramifications for him. I have many worries for this child, trying desperately to be an adult, yet seemingly lacking the decision making ability to really think with maturity. I have cried many tears for this beautiful and talented young man who has chosen to walk such a tough path. As a mother, I want to care for him and make everything right, but I know I must let him learn his lessons and remember that his choices, good and bad, are not a reflection of me. Parenting is the single most difficult thing I have ever attempted, and the one that makes me feel most like a complete and total failure. One day I hope to forgive myself for my inadequacies and mistakes as a parent and as a person.
After my poignant good byes at work yesterday, I traveled to Austin for my final conversational Italian language class. Learning even a tiny bit of Italian has been a big challenge! Languages simply don't come easily to me as they seem to for some. I am always awed by those who speak two of more languages fluently. They seem somehow to just absorb the language through their skin, through some sort of osmosis, while I struggle to retain and regurgitate the simplest phrase. In class, I find myself rehearsing my answers over and over in my head before I dare to utter a word. How will I fare in Italy? I will thrive, like a flower once wilted, which awakes after a gentle yet nourishing rain. Somehow I know this journey will nourish my soul.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Travels with My Mother
I first encountered Tuscany in September 2007. My mother had, for a number of years, dreamed of traveling to Tuscany, and somehow her passion became mine. I proposed the idea of a joint excursion in March of 2006, and after she read some sample tour itineraries, she became as excited as I. I researched tour possibilities exhaustively, because that's what I do. I plan! We hadn't traveled together since I was a teenager, so this was a new experience for us both. Because my mother is "gently aged", and I was down with a excruciating case of Plantar Fascitis, we elected to take a Elderhostel tour for mature adults. It promised an interesting and educational tour of Tuscany with only a moderate amount of walking. It was a wonderful trip, however my mother's overriding memory is of the large and strenuous hills we climbed with exhausting frequency. Now, because I am a kind and considerate daughter, I resist the urge to point out the fact that the name of the tour was in fact "Siena and the HILL TOWNS of Tuscany." Climbing all those hills certainly whetted our appetites for a variety of traditional Tuscan foods. Ahhh, the food...now I could digress into a discussion of the gastronomical delights offered by the Tuscans, but I won't. Why not? Well, because I'd like to take a moment to discuss Spanx.
What are Spanx, you ask? Well, Spanx is just another word for girdle, and girdle is just another word for torture. After eating a variety of waist expanding Italian dishes, I had to resort to shoe-horning myself into a pair of Spanx, just to get my pants buttoned. Makes me wonder why they're called "Spanx". Perhaps it's because when trying to wrestle oneself into a pair of these unfortunate numbers, the elastic has a nasty habit of slipping from betwixt fumbling fingers and snapping painfully against tender body parts which haven't seen the light of day in decades. And, heaven forbid, if one is not completely dry before attempting to squeeze into a pair of Spanx, one has to resort to a series of violent contortions and hip gyrations worthy of a cheap Elvis impersonator who's being paid by the wiggle...minus the bell-bottomed jumpsuit and rhinestoned sunglasses, of course. At the moment I am anticipating 8 months of freedom. No pantyhose, no skirts...and no Spanx!
What are Spanx, you ask? Well, Spanx is just another word for girdle, and girdle is just another word for torture. After eating a variety of waist expanding Italian dishes, I had to resort to shoe-horning myself into a pair of Spanx, just to get my pants buttoned. Makes me wonder why they're called "Spanx". Perhaps it's because when trying to wrestle oneself into a pair of these unfortunate numbers, the elastic has a nasty habit of slipping from betwixt fumbling fingers and snapping painfully against tender body parts which haven't seen the light of day in decades. And, heaven forbid, if one is not completely dry before attempting to squeeze into a pair of Spanx, one has to resort to a series of violent contortions and hip gyrations worthy of a cheap Elvis impersonator who's being paid by the wiggle...minus the bell-bottomed jumpsuit and rhinestoned sunglasses, of course. At the moment I am anticipating 8 months of freedom. No pantyhose, no skirts...and no Spanx!
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Recovering
Just 2 1/2 weeks until my departure and I have been brought low by a bad case of food poisoning or some other hideous intenstinal upset. Packing, cleaning, and errands have all taken a back seat while my body tries to recover its strength. Even my prevalent self-esteem issues have faded into the background. Amazing how Mother Nature can, in a matter of hours, minutes, seconds even, reduce you to your most basic element...simply a living, breathing shell in need of rest and recuperation.
Its been a year of many illnesses for me. I am a diabetic and the insidious nature of that disease weakens the immune system making it difficult to fight off all manner of colds, flu, and infections. My body is demanding that I take some time to renew and rest and my mind tells me the same.
It seems that my whole life I've fought feelings of unworthiness and of being unloved. Funny, how someone whose name, Amy, means "Beloved" has never felt so. I know now that those feelings of love must come first and foremost from within, from some inner reservoir yet undiscovered and untapped. Italy is the place to find love, or so I've always heard, so it seems a good place for me to fall in love......with me. Yes, that means falling in love with the overweight body, and the less than perfect face, I'd years ago learned to despise. I think I was in 4th grade when it was brought home to me that I was not as pretty as other girls. My nose began to outgrow my face and that snaggle-toothed grin, which I have to this day, began to establish itself. Once this realization sank in, I began overeating and my weight problem began in earnest. As an adult I accept full responsibility for the person I am. I can no longer lay blame on others. But, I can also choose to be someone new, and that choice I make, starting now.
I will give fair warning here, that this blog is a journal about me. It's not just a travel journal of my adventures in Europe, but a journal about my search for me...my quest for personal and spiritual fulfillment. It will be very personal and if that is off-putting I apologize. I suspect that many women will be able to relate to where I am in my life....as they either are right here with me, have been there in the recent past, or will be there soon. In many ways, I am every woman....and yet I am no woman. I am unique yet similar; fragile but resilient; broken but healing; lost yet finding my way. What an incredible journey this will be. Hang on for the ride!
Its been a year of many illnesses for me. I am a diabetic and the insidious nature of that disease weakens the immune system making it difficult to fight off all manner of colds, flu, and infections. My body is demanding that I take some time to renew and rest and my mind tells me the same.
It seems that my whole life I've fought feelings of unworthiness and of being unloved. Funny, how someone whose name, Amy, means "Beloved" has never felt so. I know now that those feelings of love must come first and foremost from within, from some inner reservoir yet undiscovered and untapped. Italy is the place to find love, or so I've always heard, so it seems a good place for me to fall in love......with me. Yes, that means falling in love with the overweight body, and the less than perfect face, I'd years ago learned to despise. I think I was in 4th grade when it was brought home to me that I was not as pretty as other girls. My nose began to outgrow my face and that snaggle-toothed grin, which I have to this day, began to establish itself. Once this realization sank in, I began overeating and my weight problem began in earnest. As an adult I accept full responsibility for the person I am. I can no longer lay blame on others. But, I can also choose to be someone new, and that choice I make, starting now.
I will give fair warning here, that this blog is a journal about me. It's not just a travel journal of my adventures in Europe, but a journal about my search for me...my quest for personal and spiritual fulfillment. It will be very personal and if that is off-putting I apologize. I suspect that many women will be able to relate to where I am in my life....as they either are right here with me, have been there in the recent past, or will be there soon. In many ways, I am every woman....and yet I am no woman. I am unique yet similar; fragile but resilient; broken but healing; lost yet finding my way. What an incredible journey this will be. Hang on for the ride!
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Getting Ready
After months of planning, the beginning of my adventure is almost here. What an enormous task it’s been to end my life here, if only temporarily, and prepare to start anew!
Because I am a “planner” I began packing my suitcase weeks and weeks ago for my April 2nd departure. It’s been such fun to decide what stays and what goes, however I keep finding myself constantly digging through the suitcase unpacking things which I hadn’t thought I’d need; coats, jeans, that favorite pair of walking shoes…. While I realize I can purchase many things at my destination, the high European prices and weak dollar mean that products cost 3 times as much there as they do here, so I want to take what I can reasonably carry. Unfortunately, airlines are tightening up their policy about the size and weight of checked baggage. Some of the European airlines, Germany’s Lufthansa for one, have a 50 pound weight limit. With that weight limit I might have to seriously consider jettisoning the clothes in favor of 50 pounds of chocolate. You can never go wrong with chocolate!
Money has also been a challenge. I normally carry traveler’s checks, however after consulting with my bank and being informed that they do not carry denominations larger than $100 I quickly realized that carrying $10,000 in traveler’s checks was going to be a nightmare, resulting in a 10 pound handbag which could double as a doorstop…or a weapon should I need to beat off an overly amorous, handsome European Casanova. Wait a minute, what am I thinking? Why on earth would I want to dissuade the advances of a handsome man??
Ultimately, I’ve decided to take some foreign currency in cash, a bit in traveler’s checks and I’ve left the rest in my bank account to be accessed by debit card. I also am taking two credit cards. Hopefully I have planned for every eventuality financially!
My adventure begins in the lovely Tuscany area of Italy. I visited Tuscany in September with my mother, and after 10 days I knew I wanted to return for further exploration. During our 10 day visit to Tuscany, I enjoyed the slower pace of Italian life. That savoring of family, friends, and food that the Italians do so well. Mom and I stayed in Siena during our visit, but made day trips to some of the surrounding hill towns like the city of towers, San Gimignano, and the epitome of beautiful urban planning, Pienza. One place I particularly liked was the medieval town of Cortona, made famous by the book Under the Tuscan Sun by Frances Mayes. Cortona, a lovely, small city high upon a hill with a panoramic view of the Tuscan countryside, has that homey feeling. Although I have read descriptions of Cortona as being “cold”, it felt warm and welcoming to me and I was thrilled to locate an affordable 2 bedroom apartment for rent on Craigslist.
Vacation rentals in Italy are shockingly expensive, easily running $3000-$4000 per month for a 1 bedroom apartment. I found this gem for a bargain price of 800 Euros, about $1300 per month, and once I began to correspond with the owner’s personable daughter, I knew I’d found my home away from home, for 3 months anyway!
Because I am a “planner” I began packing my suitcase weeks and weeks ago for my April 2nd departure. It’s been such fun to decide what stays and what goes, however I keep finding myself constantly digging through the suitcase unpacking things which I hadn’t thought I’d need; coats, jeans, that favorite pair of walking shoes…. While I realize I can purchase many things at my destination, the high European prices and weak dollar mean that products cost 3 times as much there as they do here, so I want to take what I can reasonably carry. Unfortunately, airlines are tightening up their policy about the size and weight of checked baggage. Some of the European airlines, Germany’s Lufthansa for one, have a 50 pound weight limit. With that weight limit I might have to seriously consider jettisoning the clothes in favor of 50 pounds of chocolate. You can never go wrong with chocolate!
Money has also been a challenge. I normally carry traveler’s checks, however after consulting with my bank and being informed that they do not carry denominations larger than $100 I quickly realized that carrying $10,000 in traveler’s checks was going to be a nightmare, resulting in a 10 pound handbag which could double as a doorstop…or a weapon should I need to beat off an overly amorous, handsome European Casanova. Wait a minute, what am I thinking? Why on earth would I want to dissuade the advances of a handsome man??
Ultimately, I’ve decided to take some foreign currency in cash, a bit in traveler’s checks and I’ve left the rest in my bank account to be accessed by debit card. I also am taking two credit cards. Hopefully I have planned for every eventuality financially!
My adventure begins in the lovely Tuscany area of Italy. I visited Tuscany in September with my mother, and after 10 days I knew I wanted to return for further exploration. During our 10 day visit to Tuscany, I enjoyed the slower pace of Italian life. That savoring of family, friends, and food that the Italians do so well. Mom and I stayed in Siena during our visit, but made day trips to some of the surrounding hill towns like the city of towers, San Gimignano, and the epitome of beautiful urban planning, Pienza. One place I particularly liked was the medieval town of Cortona, made famous by the book Under the Tuscan Sun by Frances Mayes. Cortona, a lovely, small city high upon a hill with a panoramic view of the Tuscan countryside, has that homey feeling. Although I have read descriptions of Cortona as being “cold”, it felt warm and welcoming to me and I was thrilled to locate an affordable 2 bedroom apartment for rent on Craigslist.
Vacation rentals in Italy are shockingly expensive, easily running $3000-$4000 per month for a 1 bedroom apartment. I found this gem for a bargain price of 800 Euros, about $1300 per month, and once I began to correspond with the owner’s personable daughter, I knew I’d found my home away from home, for 3 months anyway!
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