Maria returned from visiting her family and picking up her daughter, Laura, from the airport. It’s good to have someone in the house again! Laura is in her mid-thirties, beautiful and slim, with long, dark, wavy hair and a lovely smile. We carefully maneuvered a twin bed from my second bedroom down the stairs to Maria’s apartment for Laura’s use. Maria brought me garden fresh lettuce, onions, and lemons from her brother’s garden for me. What a treat! She also brought a ball of mozzarella so fresh that milk oozes out when it’s cut. I’ve always liked fresh mozzarella, but this salty, creamy treat is something special. I will make a wonderful salad for dinner tomorrow.
It’s been a quiet week and I didn’t feel well a couple of days, so didn’t sleep well during the night. Sleeping late in the morning is just not possible as workmen at the Etruscan museum have begun to break up the brick floor with a jackhammer to make room for what looks like additional display space. The destroyed bricks are then noisily loaded onto a metal truck bed and shipped off to an unknown destination. I was told that the workmen on the museum project are employed by the same company as those who are working on the church across the street. I have heard Italian workers described as lackadaisical, but the workers for this particular company seem to work very hard, putting in full days and beginning work right on time each day. I was actually introduced to the owner on the construction company one day at the piazza and he indicated that his son is managing the project across the street.
I met a young woman from Miami at the café this morning. Her name is Carla and she is studying in Mannheim, Germany for a semester. We struck up a conversation and she shared that she lived her first 8 years in South Africa, then spent 5 in Canada, before moving to the United States. She was in town to meet a friend who is an archaeology student working at one of the sites (probably Etruscan, of which there are a plethora) in the area. We ate lunch at Fuflun’s and, once the rain stopped, walked around town so she could take pictures. Upon hearing American voices, a blonde woman popped her head over a terrace above us and asked where we were from. After exchanging information the petite blonde, Dee, invited us to her second floor apartment, which has a gorgeous rooftop terrace. She shared that the terrace is normally covered, but the cover was destroyed in a terrible windstorm in March, where winds reached 90 miles per hour! The terrace has a large table and 4 chairs for dining al fresco, and Dee must have a green thumb as the terrace is lushly decorated with a multitude of greenery and flowering plants. I am envious of Dee’s terrace! Dee is a wealth of information about Cortona and the area and hails from Houston, Texas. She is very outgoing and vivacious thus has met far more people in 3 months than I have and she regaled us with interesting stories and tidbits of information. Dee was lucky enough to have been invited to participate in the medieval parade which took place back on April 25. She has a beautiful dark blue velvet costume decorated with silver braid and a headpiece complete with veil. She held up her costume so Carla and I could take a picture. What an honor to have been asked to participate in a local event even if she was left to walk alone, feeling somewhat conspicuous! I left my personal information with Dee in hopes we can meet again and perhaps explore Tuscany a bit together.
Unfortunately, Dee has had some experiences with anti-American sentiment in Cortona and Carla commented on how she was quoted one price for an overnight at a local establishment, and a lower price upon showing her Canadian passport. I am experienced enough to know these things happen, particularly in small towns, but I don’t want to other’s experiences to color my own. Because Americans are generally not popular does not mean that people won’t like me. I know that I pay more for my caffe latte at my favorite bar than I would in many other places in town, however I also know that the ladies that work in the morning are kind to me and give me a warm welcome, an arm pat, or a shoulder squeeze on their way past. I don’t mind paying a bit more if my business is appreciated and I am treated kindly. I would feel the same way in I were in the States.
Its market day today and I am off to visit my new favorite porchetta man!
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Monday, May 26, 2008
Recognition and Regret
Well, it’s finally happened. The young, friendly, gelato guy with glowing turquoise eyes now recognizes me. Even as he greets me, his free hand is levitating toward the “piccolo cono”, small cone, and his scoop hand is twitching toward the Nutella gelato. Sometimes I try to confuse him by ordering stracciatella, but it really doesn’t matter as it, and the Nutella, are located in adjoining bins so his scoop can twitch either way at the last moment. It was a Nutella day today. Nutella gelato is better than sex. I think.
I made a rather vain attempt to be “noticed” yesterday. I have a beautiful, white, silk blouse decorated at the V-neck with beads and pearls. I usually wear a white, lacy camisole with the shirt as it tends to slide down in the front and if I bend over to pick something up, you can see all the way to Florida. Yesterday morning I got up the nerve to wear the thing by itself, no camisole. I am not sure if my “target audience” of single men my age noticed, but when a 70 year old man crossing the street couldn’t tear his eyes away from my cleavage, I knew I needed to put more clothes on. After all, I’d feel horribly responsible if the elderly fellow was so distracted by my shocking display that he was run over by the street sweeper making its morning rounds. Not something I want to explain to the Carabinieri. I did see a rather round and buxom woman jiggling and shaking across the piazza today wearing just a swimsuit top cut down to “there”, painted-on jeans, and stilettos. She certainly put my rather modest cleavage display to shame! Maybe I just need more confidence.
The porchetta man was set up in his customary place right outside the city walls this morning and the very moment I opened my mouth to order a sandwich, he switched from Italian into English. Apparently my Italian hasn’t improved one iota! He gave me a wonderful sandwich though, lovingly wrapped in a square of white paper and carefully placed in a bag. Apparently, he puts garlic cloves into the cavity of the pig before roasting and I was the lucky recipient of 3 whole, mellow, melt-in-your-mouth cloves on my sandwich. Yum…I love garlic! And nary a chicken feather in evidence! He is definitely my new porchetta man.
I’ve been thinking a lot about regret. I have always believed that I try to live my life without regret for what could have been, without longing for that which I never did, or things that I never had. Maybe I have only been partially successful. My former husband is a wonderful person, but I look back at the reasons we married….to have a home, family, security, companionship……and what we gave up to have what we had. Eventually the life we had wasn’t enough for either of us. So, my question: what is it we give up when we accept less than we really desire? What part of us withers and dies knowing it will never achieve fulfillment? Or, can be it be fulfilled even late in the game? So, my dear friends, learn from me. Don’t be the chicken I have been, so afraid of failure and rejection that you fail to chase what it is you really wish to have. By believing you can’t have a particular thing, you push the possibility of having it far away and then feel all the more regretful of the life you have versus the one you want. I am a living, breathing example of this phenomenon. If I could share any secret, it would be; do not be afraid to ask “what if?”, and then believe in the possibility that “what if”, will be. To accept anything less is to have but half a life.
I made a rather vain attempt to be “noticed” yesterday. I have a beautiful, white, silk blouse decorated at the V-neck with beads and pearls. I usually wear a white, lacy camisole with the shirt as it tends to slide down in the front and if I bend over to pick something up, you can see all the way to Florida. Yesterday morning I got up the nerve to wear the thing by itself, no camisole. I am not sure if my “target audience” of single men my age noticed, but when a 70 year old man crossing the street couldn’t tear his eyes away from my cleavage, I knew I needed to put more clothes on. After all, I’d feel horribly responsible if the elderly fellow was so distracted by my shocking display that he was run over by the street sweeper making its morning rounds. Not something I want to explain to the Carabinieri. I did see a rather round and buxom woman jiggling and shaking across the piazza today wearing just a swimsuit top cut down to “there”, painted-on jeans, and stilettos. She certainly put my rather modest cleavage display to shame! Maybe I just need more confidence.
The porchetta man was set up in his customary place right outside the city walls this morning and the very moment I opened my mouth to order a sandwich, he switched from Italian into English. Apparently my Italian hasn’t improved one iota! He gave me a wonderful sandwich though, lovingly wrapped in a square of white paper and carefully placed in a bag. Apparently, he puts garlic cloves into the cavity of the pig before roasting and I was the lucky recipient of 3 whole, mellow, melt-in-your-mouth cloves on my sandwich. Yum…I love garlic! And nary a chicken feather in evidence! He is definitely my new porchetta man.
I’ve been thinking a lot about regret. I have always believed that I try to live my life without regret for what could have been, without longing for that which I never did, or things that I never had. Maybe I have only been partially successful. My former husband is a wonderful person, but I look back at the reasons we married….to have a home, family, security, companionship……and what we gave up to have what we had. Eventually the life we had wasn’t enough for either of us. So, my question: what is it we give up when we accept less than we really desire? What part of us withers and dies knowing it will never achieve fulfillment? Or, can be it be fulfilled even late in the game? So, my dear friends, learn from me. Don’t be the chicken I have been, so afraid of failure and rejection that you fail to chase what it is you really wish to have. By believing you can’t have a particular thing, you push the possibility of having it far away and then feel all the more regretful of the life you have versus the one you want. I am a living, breathing example of this phenomenon. If I could share any secret, it would be; do not be afraid to ask “what if?”, and then believe in the possibility that “what if”, will be. To accept anything less is to have but half a life.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Giostra dell'Archidado
Last night was the first night of the Joust of the Archidado, a 10 day celebration including theatrical displays and crossbow shooting pitting one neighborhood against another. Unbeknownst to me there were opening festivities last night, beginning at about 9:45 PM, past my bedtime. Lots of drums and trumpeting, clapping and wild cheering. Had I not taken off my makeup and clothing I’d have hoofed it to the piazza to see what all the excitement was. The music seemed to emanate from behind the house this time, so it must have been centered at Piazza Signorelli, rather than Pizza della Repubblica. I am really am in a great location! All the hoopla went on until after 11:30 and then rowdy young men sang noisily until past 1:00…and I am pretty sure I heard the sound of a kazoo...or perhaps it was a duck call.
I am a bit tired today, but got up at 8:00 and dragged my sorry self to the café where I was too tired to even follow my normal protocol of reading a book as I linger over a caffé latte. I did exchange smiles with the waiter and also I saw Maria’s English friend there, the man who came to dinner on the infamous night of “The Two Dinners”. We chatted for a bit and he asked after Maria, who is currently visiting her family near Naples. He mentioned he’d back in several weeks and perhaps we could all meet for coffee one afternoon.
Its market day today and I stopped for a porchetta sandwich. It really turns me off that this particular vendor leaves the roasted, decapitated pig’s head on the top of the counter for inspection, but he had a fresh-looking porchetta. When I returned home and inspected the sandwich, I found a chicken feather stuck to the meat. Ick! A little more digging uncovered a mass of hairy filaments of undetermined origin. I debated whether to take a preventative antibiotic and eat the thing or whether to err on the safe side and pitch the sandwich, which is what I eventually did. Tomorrow I will seek out the other man who sets up outside the city walls as his porchetta looked nice and crispy brown, with no evidence of errant barnyard fowl.
I also needed to stop at the little grocery for toilet paper, which is inconveniently located on the top shelf across from the register. I am shy about 10 inches from reaching the rolls at the top and I am not inclined to ask the busy man at the register to get some toilet paper down for me, not that I even know the word for “toilet paper”. The tiny place is always jam-packed and the workers are always swamped. I was lucky today and found some of my second favorite brand, the Foxy Mega Roll 4-pack right on the floor where even I could reach them. What divine intervention!! I bought two because I just don’t know when I will be that fortunate again. I can get pretty excited about toilet paper.
This morning seemed an opportune moment to tackle my latest fitness goal so, ignoring the screaming muscles in my calves, I dragged myself up a hill on a road shadowing the ancient city walls. Once I’d turned the corner at the top of the hill though, I discovered I was actually only about halfway to the top. Unbeknownst to me I was walking the twelve Stations of the Cross which culminate at La Chiesa di Santa Margherita. The stations are mosaics lovingly created from tiny squares of multi- colored glass interspersed here and there with gold tiles which shone like stars in the brilliant sunlight. I had to stop and rest twice on some handy stone benches on the second section of the hill, but I achieved the summit! Unfortunately, La Chiesa was not open and I swallowed my disappointment as I had hoped to pray and meditate with La Santa after my monumental climb. My knees held up well on the steep descent, but one foot started acting up. If it isn’t one thing, it’s another!
I stopped for pasta with Bolognese sauce at the Bar 500 owned by a friendly Italian woman and her English husband. I sat at a table in an open doorway so I could watch people strolling along via Nazionale, chatting and shopping. People watching can be so interesting! One passing stroller contained little boy about 12 months old who was holding a metal kitchen whisk straight out in front of the stroller like a weapon…just in case he encountered anyone who needed a “beating”. After lunch I trotted back to the house, sharing a friendly wave with The Beautiful One from the gallery who was enjoying lunch at an outside table in Piazza Signorelli.
I am spending a phenomenal amount of money on books here. First of all, a paperback is roughly $17 and I am a voracious reader. Watching TV is just not a satisfying entertainment option and I spend relatively little eating out, so I will just consider it a living expense. On the way back from the bookstore, I heard the steady thump of drums in Piazza della Repubblica. When I arrived there were about 8 drummers and another 8 flag throwers in brightly colored tunics and tights, performing some maneuvers in the piazza. Fortunately, not much of a crowd had gathered so I had a great view and took a few pictures to share. As before, the flag throwers, each holding two flags, circled the piazza in some complicated formations, then they each peeled away from the formation and handed one flag to a man standing to the left. Each flag thrower then took a turn lofting their remaining flags high into the air, and this time several made it over the third story electrical wire! One unfortunate young woman dropped her flag, nearly taking out a boy dressed neatly in a uniform like a blue boy scout in the first row. Remind me never to sit in the front row…it can be hazardous!
I am a bit tired today, but got up at 8:00 and dragged my sorry self to the café where I was too tired to even follow my normal protocol of reading a book as I linger over a caffé latte. I did exchange smiles with the waiter and also I saw Maria’s English friend there, the man who came to dinner on the infamous night of “The Two Dinners”. We chatted for a bit and he asked after Maria, who is currently visiting her family near Naples. He mentioned he’d back in several weeks and perhaps we could all meet for coffee one afternoon.
Its market day today and I stopped for a porchetta sandwich. It really turns me off that this particular vendor leaves the roasted, decapitated pig’s head on the top of the counter for inspection, but he had a fresh-looking porchetta. When I returned home and inspected the sandwich, I found a chicken feather stuck to the meat. Ick! A little more digging uncovered a mass of hairy filaments of undetermined origin. I debated whether to take a preventative antibiotic and eat the thing or whether to err on the safe side and pitch the sandwich, which is what I eventually did. Tomorrow I will seek out the other man who sets up outside the city walls as his porchetta looked nice and crispy brown, with no evidence of errant barnyard fowl.
I also needed to stop at the little grocery for toilet paper, which is inconveniently located on the top shelf across from the register. I am shy about 10 inches from reaching the rolls at the top and I am not inclined to ask the busy man at the register to get some toilet paper down for me, not that I even know the word for “toilet paper”. The tiny place is always jam-packed and the workers are always swamped. I was lucky today and found some of my second favorite brand, the Foxy Mega Roll 4-pack right on the floor where even I could reach them. What divine intervention!! I bought two because I just don’t know when I will be that fortunate again. I can get pretty excited about toilet paper.
This morning seemed an opportune moment to tackle my latest fitness goal so, ignoring the screaming muscles in my calves, I dragged myself up a hill on a road shadowing the ancient city walls. Once I’d turned the corner at the top of the hill though, I discovered I was actually only about halfway to the top. Unbeknownst to me I was walking the twelve Stations of the Cross which culminate at La Chiesa di Santa Margherita. The stations are mosaics lovingly created from tiny squares of multi- colored glass interspersed here and there with gold tiles which shone like stars in the brilliant sunlight. I had to stop and rest twice on some handy stone benches on the second section of the hill, but I achieved the summit! Unfortunately, La Chiesa was not open and I swallowed my disappointment as I had hoped to pray and meditate with La Santa after my monumental climb. My knees held up well on the steep descent, but one foot started acting up. If it isn’t one thing, it’s another!
I stopped for pasta with Bolognese sauce at the Bar 500 owned by a friendly Italian woman and her English husband. I sat at a table in an open doorway so I could watch people strolling along via Nazionale, chatting and shopping. People watching can be so interesting! One passing stroller contained little boy about 12 months old who was holding a metal kitchen whisk straight out in front of the stroller like a weapon…just in case he encountered anyone who needed a “beating”. After lunch I trotted back to the house, sharing a friendly wave with The Beautiful One from the gallery who was enjoying lunch at an outside table in Piazza Signorelli.
I am spending a phenomenal amount of money on books here. First of all, a paperback is roughly $17 and I am a voracious reader. Watching TV is just not a satisfying entertainment option and I spend relatively little eating out, so I will just consider it a living expense. On the way back from the bookstore, I heard the steady thump of drums in Piazza della Repubblica. When I arrived there were about 8 drummers and another 8 flag throwers in brightly colored tunics and tights, performing some maneuvers in the piazza. Fortunately, not much of a crowd had gathered so I had a great view and took a few pictures to share. As before, the flag throwers, each holding two flags, circled the piazza in some complicated formations, then they each peeled away from the formation and handed one flag to a man standing to the left. Each flag thrower then took a turn lofting their remaining flags high into the air, and this time several made it over the third story electrical wire! One unfortunate young woman dropped her flag, nearly taking out a boy dressed neatly in a uniform like a blue boy scout in the first row. Remind me never to sit in the front row…it can be hazardous!
Friday, May 23, 2008
Another Goal
Yesterday, after indulging in the need to cry a bit, I was exuberantly happy. I danced through town to the park where I did a happy twirl….only to hear a peculiar popping noise issuing from both knees. Ouch! My knees are better, but apparently that extends only to walking and climbing movements. Twisting and sideways motion brings on twinges of excruciating pain and the alarming sensation of crunching cartilage.
Sleep was difficult. My knees were bothering me and my hips had that bone-deep muscle ache one get from lying in bed too long. I contemplated my options. The beds in the second bedroom were no more comfortable then my own and the sofa was definitely out of the question. The sofa is really just an upholstered church pew designed to prevent relaxation and sleep. It’s also short…I cannot sit on one end and stretch my legs out without being jammed up against the opposite arm. Eventually, I broke down and inhaled a Tylenol with desperation. I brought only a few pain relievers so I take them only when absolutely necessary. I must have slept then as I awoke to thin, watery light slanting through the shutters and the dulcet tones of something metal being pounded against another metal object. Perhaps the mortar mixer across the street was stuck and needed a bit of “encouragement.” The sound was only slightly less annoying that the noise a nice young man made as he broke an honest-to-goodness boulder into bite-sized chunks with a huge metal hammer outside the Etruscan museum a couple days ago.
I encountered Lana of Casantonio at the café this morning and we cackled about the “hip wiggler”. She said that after I left the shop she told him that not all ladies appreciate that sort of behavior, but apparently he is always like that and is incredibly fun to work with. I certainly appreciate a sense of humor like his, perhaps because I have one much like it! I believe my ability to laugh is one of my best qualities. Life is funny and funny things happen to me. I think that’s one of the things I’ve been missing since I have been here…..the opportunity to laugh aloud and feel completely uninhibited.
I went on short walk today, once to the tennis club and back. I’ve been trying to do it twice a day, but my body said, “No” today. The skies opened up this afternoon so I hopped in bed with a book. Through my dormer window I can see the roof of the Etruscan museum. There are some short wooden beams, cubby holes, and uneven stones which make handy perches for the legion of pigeons in town. As I gazed out the window there was a tremendous thunderclap, much like a shotgun blast, which apparently startled a snoozing pigeon that promptly tumbled from his perch on the museum wall. Fortunately, he caught himself and winged away before he fell too terribly far. It felt so good to laugh out loud at that poor bird!
For those of you interested, the waiter mouthed, “Buon giorno” to me today…..still no voice though. Perhaps one day.
After coffee and the internet this morning, I stopped by the bakery for bread, the fruit and vegetable man for veggies, and the cramped little grocery for tissues and tuna. I craved some comfort food for dinner, my mother’s tuna pasta salad. Sometimes I miss my mom!
After dinner I tackled my latest fitness goal, THE HILL, and guess what? I made it! I took nice long, paced steps and made it all the way to the top without stopping. I am so very excited! There is no way I could have accomplished that when I first arrived 7 weeks ago. I know where there is another long hill, so that’s my next goal. The last time I tried that one I made it about 2/3 of the way up with 2 rest stops. That one should be a good measure of the progress I’ve made. Wish me luck!
I guess this is the time where I begin to set some goals for myself. It’s something I’ve always avoided doing. I guess I always felt the risk of failure was so great it was better to “have dreams” than to “set goals”. I think I am ready now to set goals. One goal is to organize my blog into a manuscript to submit to publishers. I want to write a book. With that goal in mind, any comments or constructive criticism you have to offer would be appreciated.
Sleep was difficult. My knees were bothering me and my hips had that bone-deep muscle ache one get from lying in bed too long. I contemplated my options. The beds in the second bedroom were no more comfortable then my own and the sofa was definitely out of the question. The sofa is really just an upholstered church pew designed to prevent relaxation and sleep. It’s also short…I cannot sit on one end and stretch my legs out without being jammed up against the opposite arm. Eventually, I broke down and inhaled a Tylenol with desperation. I brought only a few pain relievers so I take them only when absolutely necessary. I must have slept then as I awoke to thin, watery light slanting through the shutters and the dulcet tones of something metal being pounded against another metal object. Perhaps the mortar mixer across the street was stuck and needed a bit of “encouragement.” The sound was only slightly less annoying that the noise a nice young man made as he broke an honest-to-goodness boulder into bite-sized chunks with a huge metal hammer outside the Etruscan museum a couple days ago.
I encountered Lana of Casantonio at the café this morning and we cackled about the “hip wiggler”. She said that after I left the shop she told him that not all ladies appreciate that sort of behavior, but apparently he is always like that and is incredibly fun to work with. I certainly appreciate a sense of humor like his, perhaps because I have one much like it! I believe my ability to laugh is one of my best qualities. Life is funny and funny things happen to me. I think that’s one of the things I’ve been missing since I have been here…..the opportunity to laugh aloud and feel completely uninhibited.
I went on short walk today, once to the tennis club and back. I’ve been trying to do it twice a day, but my body said, “No” today. The skies opened up this afternoon so I hopped in bed with a book. Through my dormer window I can see the roof of the Etruscan museum. There are some short wooden beams, cubby holes, and uneven stones which make handy perches for the legion of pigeons in town. As I gazed out the window there was a tremendous thunderclap, much like a shotgun blast, which apparently startled a snoozing pigeon that promptly tumbled from his perch on the museum wall. Fortunately, he caught himself and winged away before he fell too terribly far. It felt so good to laugh out loud at that poor bird!
For those of you interested, the waiter mouthed, “Buon giorno” to me today…..still no voice though. Perhaps one day.
After coffee and the internet this morning, I stopped by the bakery for bread, the fruit and vegetable man for veggies, and the cramped little grocery for tissues and tuna. I craved some comfort food for dinner, my mother’s tuna pasta salad. Sometimes I miss my mom!
After dinner I tackled my latest fitness goal, THE HILL, and guess what? I made it! I took nice long, paced steps and made it all the way to the top without stopping. I am so very excited! There is no way I could have accomplished that when I first arrived 7 weeks ago. I know where there is another long hill, so that’s my next goal. The last time I tried that one I made it about 2/3 of the way up with 2 rest stops. That one should be a good measure of the progress I’ve made. Wish me luck!
I guess this is the time where I begin to set some goals for myself. It’s something I’ve always avoided doing. I guess I always felt the risk of failure was so great it was better to “have dreams” than to “set goals”. I think I am ready now to set goals. One goal is to organize my blog into a manuscript to submit to publishers. I want to write a book. With that goal in mind, any comments or constructive criticism you have to offer would be appreciated.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
La Pioggia-Rain
It’s raining yet again! I try to walk 6 days a week and I needed to get out for a good stroll today, but each time I would get dressed, brush my teeth (you never know who you’ll see), put on the arch support and the shoes, the coat, pack the backpack with essentials like Kleenex and a book, get the umbrella, and struggle down the stairs…the rain would begin. I made it as far as the park about 3 times, only to be turned back by cool winds and rain. I am fighting a bit of a cold, and Maria now has a fever, so I didn’t want to risk getting too chilled. The sun is shining brilliantly for the moment, but I can see black clouds frowning across the valley, so the sun is a temporary reprieve. It’s a bit like watching the epic struggle of good against evil played out against the patchwork green fields and muted blue mountains edging the Val di Chiana valley. Evil is winning this week!
I did a little more shopping yesterday. I really cannot help myself. I met an American woman in the shop where I’d bought some silver and amber earrings earlier during my visit. She sold me a beautiful beaded shirt. It doesn’t come anywhere near fitting now, but it’s my “goal shirt” and gives me something to work towards. I will have a big celebration on the day I can wear that shirt!
I also stopped by Casantonio to look for a vase. Maria has a friend who delivers beautiful flowers from his garden once a week or so. He left some beautiful pink roses on her porch this time. Some just buds, others fully opened, and some frowsy and overblown, with soft ruffled edges like a woman’s petticoat. Maria brought me one of the buds and I wanted a special place to put it. I really don’t need any more weight to carry in my suitcase, but I just love the “geometric” patterned ceramics at Casantonio and had admired the vases each time I visited the shop. When I arrived, Lana, the woman who sold me the olive oil bottles and other things I shipped to my mom, was there and also a man I’ve seen there before. He was there when mom and I looked at the shop in September, but she likely doesn’t remember. He is very handsome; silver haired, dark eyed, quite tall and slim. He and Lana both speak excellent English which is a help to me. I chose a vase and as the man wrapped it he commented on how I keep shifting weight from one foot to the other. Apparently I rock back and forth without being consciously aware of it. He said his mother told him it’s a good thing to do, but also you could bend your knees and move your hips a bit, and to demonstrate he did this rather suggestive little hip gyration which had Lana and I in hysterics. I wonder if I will get a hip wiggle with every purchase? If so, you can bet I’ll be shipping more ceramics home. The website is www.casantonio.com if any of you are interested. You have to dig around the site a bit to find items in the geometric pattern. Every piece is handmade and slightly different, and all are gorgeous! I will include a picture of my vase to give you an idea of what some of their things look like.
There are a number of American artists here. I frequently see a couple, man and woman, always together. One evening they sat on Le Scale where I was sitting and a young college-aged woman struck up a conversation with the man, who was sitting nearer to her. They were discussing art and what artworks the young woman should be sure to visit while in Italy. Well, after about 5 minutes the girlfriend had apparently had enough of that, stood up abruptly, and marched down the stairs. Her partner immediately jumped up to trail sheepishly after her. I never see one of them without the other. She keeps him on a very short leash, and what’s more surprising is that he allows it. It reminds me a bit of how things were when I was married. I tended to insist on being in control and was childish when I didn’t get my way. I was extremely immature and controlling, and truth be told, rather selfish. I realize now that there is no room in relationships for that sort of behavior from either partner and I hope I have grown enough that I will not make the same mistake in a new relationship that I did in my marriage. I seem to have more difficulty in curbing my controlling tendency in my relationship with my children. Yes, as a parent I should have decision making ability, but complete control, no. Something for me to be more mindful of and work to improve.
I did a little more shopping yesterday. I really cannot help myself. I met an American woman in the shop where I’d bought some silver and amber earrings earlier during my visit. She sold me a beautiful beaded shirt. It doesn’t come anywhere near fitting now, but it’s my “goal shirt” and gives me something to work towards. I will have a big celebration on the day I can wear that shirt!
I also stopped by Casantonio to look for a vase. Maria has a friend who delivers beautiful flowers from his garden once a week or so. He left some beautiful pink roses on her porch this time. Some just buds, others fully opened, and some frowsy and overblown, with soft ruffled edges like a woman’s petticoat. Maria brought me one of the buds and I wanted a special place to put it. I really don’t need any more weight to carry in my suitcase, but I just love the “geometric” patterned ceramics at Casantonio and had admired the vases each time I visited the shop. When I arrived, Lana, the woman who sold me the olive oil bottles and other things I shipped to my mom, was there and also a man I’ve seen there before. He was there when mom and I looked at the shop in September, but she likely doesn’t remember. He is very handsome; silver haired, dark eyed, quite tall and slim. He and Lana both speak excellent English which is a help to me. I chose a vase and as the man wrapped it he commented on how I keep shifting weight from one foot to the other. Apparently I rock back and forth without being consciously aware of it. He said his mother told him it’s a good thing to do, but also you could bend your knees and move your hips a bit, and to demonstrate he did this rather suggestive little hip gyration which had Lana and I in hysterics. I wonder if I will get a hip wiggle with every purchase? If so, you can bet I’ll be shipping more ceramics home. The website is www.casantonio.com if any of you are interested. You have to dig around the site a bit to find items in the geometric pattern. Every piece is handmade and slightly different, and all are gorgeous! I will include a picture of my vase to give you an idea of what some of their things look like.
There are a number of American artists here. I frequently see a couple, man and woman, always together. One evening they sat on Le Scale where I was sitting and a young college-aged woman struck up a conversation with the man, who was sitting nearer to her. They were discussing art and what artworks the young woman should be sure to visit while in Italy. Well, after about 5 minutes the girlfriend had apparently had enough of that, stood up abruptly, and marched down the stairs. Her partner immediately jumped up to trail sheepishly after her. I never see one of them without the other. She keeps him on a very short leash, and what’s more surprising is that he allows it. It reminds me a bit of how things were when I was married. I tended to insist on being in control and was childish when I didn’t get my way. I was extremely immature and controlling, and truth be told, rather selfish. I realize now that there is no room in relationships for that sort of behavior from either partner and I hope I have grown enough that I will not make the same mistake in a new relationship that I did in my marriage. I seem to have more difficulty in curbing my controlling tendency in my relationship with my children. Yes, as a parent I should have decision making ability, but complete control, no. Something for me to be more mindful of and work to improve.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Sunday
It was rainy off and on this weekend. Some good drenching rains which caused me to make use of my newly purchased umbrella. I walked to my favorite place twice today as my fitness level really is to the point where I need to crank it up a notch. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to sit and do any reading as the rain snuck up and caught me unaware.
Cortona was hopping last night…car horns and loud voices in the streets until 3:00 AM which was not much appreciated by me! I am sure it doesn’t help that the stone buildings are so close together and I am up so high…it seems like small sounds are magnified. As the weather has warmed the crowds in Cortona grow. There are tour groups, several daily, and lots of out-of-towners on the weekends. I am usually glad for Monday to arrive so things quiet down a bit and I feel more at home.
I see a fair number of young fathers alone with their small children here. That always warms my heart…too see a daddy with his small ones. One little guy, maybe 16 months old, with chubby cheeks and silky curls, was playing by the fountain in the park yesterday, as his dad snapped pictures. At the base of the fountain there is a small concrete step about 5 inches higher than the surrounding gravel, and when the little guy wanted to get up that step he’d put both hands down on it, then sort of scootch his knees up, then finally, poke his bottom in the air and stand up. A lot of work to get up one step, and getting back down wasn’t any easier!
I shall have you know that I resisted the urge to eat a porchetta sandwich the past two weekends! I will admit that porchetta makes me a bit nervous. I find myself wondering how long it takes for them to sell a whole, cooked pig on small sandwiches. 3 days, 7 days, 3 weeks? The shorter that porchetta is, the more I worry about things like salmonella. So, folks, I always find myself browsing the three vendors at the Saturday market in search of the man with the longest porchetta. In rereading that statement, I think we shall move on to a new topic.
My blood sugar reached an all time low tonight…64! Now that I’ve stopped taking the stronger medication, I do find myself needing to check my sugar more often to make sure my remaining medication is managing my diabetes effectively, and it seems to be doing fine. I think I am ready to set a new fitness goal, however I dread making the commitment. There is a terrible hill in town which leads off Piazza della Repubblica all the way down to a car park. My mom might remember it as we rolled down it to the bus on our visit in September with the tour. It was a long, steep hill. I remember thinking, at the time, that I could never possibly make it up that hill and if I did it would be major accomplishment and a sign of much improved physical fitness. Well, I think that will be my next goal, but I am dreading it.
Maria has been feeling under the weather so I made some of my wonderful chicken soup for her and took her my homeopathic remedies for dealing with colds and the flu. She reports feeling a bit better, but she sounds terrible. I’ve been sneezing a bit myself so I think allergies are a factor. I am excited to say that I have not yet been sick since I’ve been here. Getting more sleep, having little stress, and maintaining good control of the diabetes has made a big difference. Or maybe it’s the fact that I don’t come into close contact with many people. Either way, I like feeling healthy and strong. It feels wonderful not to huff and puff after navigating just 10 stairs. I am making progress!
Cortona was hopping last night…car horns and loud voices in the streets until 3:00 AM which was not much appreciated by me! I am sure it doesn’t help that the stone buildings are so close together and I am up so high…it seems like small sounds are magnified. As the weather has warmed the crowds in Cortona grow. There are tour groups, several daily, and lots of out-of-towners on the weekends. I am usually glad for Monday to arrive so things quiet down a bit and I feel more at home.
I see a fair number of young fathers alone with their small children here. That always warms my heart…too see a daddy with his small ones. One little guy, maybe 16 months old, with chubby cheeks and silky curls, was playing by the fountain in the park yesterday, as his dad snapped pictures. At the base of the fountain there is a small concrete step about 5 inches higher than the surrounding gravel, and when the little guy wanted to get up that step he’d put both hands down on it, then sort of scootch his knees up, then finally, poke his bottom in the air and stand up. A lot of work to get up one step, and getting back down wasn’t any easier!
I shall have you know that I resisted the urge to eat a porchetta sandwich the past two weekends! I will admit that porchetta makes me a bit nervous. I find myself wondering how long it takes for them to sell a whole, cooked pig on small sandwiches. 3 days, 7 days, 3 weeks? The shorter that porchetta is, the more I worry about things like salmonella. So, folks, I always find myself browsing the three vendors at the Saturday market in search of the man with the longest porchetta. In rereading that statement, I think we shall move on to a new topic.
My blood sugar reached an all time low tonight…64! Now that I’ve stopped taking the stronger medication, I do find myself needing to check my sugar more often to make sure my remaining medication is managing my diabetes effectively, and it seems to be doing fine. I think I am ready to set a new fitness goal, however I dread making the commitment. There is a terrible hill in town which leads off Piazza della Repubblica all the way down to a car park. My mom might remember it as we rolled down it to the bus on our visit in September with the tour. It was a long, steep hill. I remember thinking, at the time, that I could never possibly make it up that hill and if I did it would be major accomplishment and a sign of much improved physical fitness. Well, I think that will be my next goal, but I am dreading it.
Maria has been feeling under the weather so I made some of my wonderful chicken soup for her and took her my homeopathic remedies for dealing with colds and the flu. She reports feeling a bit better, but she sounds terrible. I’ve been sneezing a bit myself so I think allergies are a factor. I am excited to say that I have not yet been sick since I’ve been here. Getting more sleep, having little stress, and maintaining good control of the diabetes has made a big difference. Or maybe it’s the fact that I don’t come into close contact with many people. Either way, I like feeling healthy and strong. It feels wonderful not to huff and puff after navigating just 10 stairs. I am making progress!
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