Stew, Author at See You in Italy

The Italians are coming, the Italians are coming . . .

What would the world be without an Italy? Discuss among yourselves and get back to me? I was thinking about this after having pizza at a seminar yesterday, penne pasta primavera last night at home and on my way for a shhh-don’t-tell-the-office cappucchino breakout this morning. When! What to my wondering eyes should appear but a brand new Fiat 500. Parked right next to me. What a trick pony that is. The owner was getting his haircut when they saw me taking his car’s portrait and salon emptied and we had a moment there. Fiat execs would have been misty-eyed at the enthusiasm over their new baby. This one is a limited edition. Edition of 500. Wicked cool.
fiat5003
And of course that reminded me that the Italian Life Expo team just got confirmation yesterday that a literal boat load of Italian products got onboard in Genoa. And that ship has sailed! Wines, olive oils, copper and ceramic wares all pointed towards Portland, Maine. The Italians they belong to are probably packing their bags as we speak. The countdown is well underway, let the festivities begin. Got your tickets? June 9-11 on Portland’s waterfront.

To keep up with the details about this happy bit of Italy coming to our shores Follow the Expo on Twitter and/or “Like” their Facebook page

See you in Italy (when Italy comes to Portland!)

Stew Vreeland

Kiki finds a couple things to do in Umbria

Every time we go to Italy, and this is a dozen years now, we find things we can’t now imagine that we missed. Its just an embarrassment of riches waiting for us to discover.

Maybe a couple times in our Life After Buying a House in Umbria, people have said “well, gee, if you buy one place then you’ll never be able to go anywhere else. And won’t you get, like, bored?” As if. Every time we go to Italy, and this is a dozen years now, we find things we can’t now imagine that we missed. Its just an embarrassment of riches waiting for us to discover.

That came to mind when we got this fun-filled note from our buddy and co-owner Kiki. We have so much unscheduled merriment there in Panicale that we often teasingly refer to it as Panic Alley. What the heck, same general pronunciation?

If I interject and annotate her note I’ll put my words in Italic and in parens.

See you in Italy!

Stew

——————————
Hey Styooo, (how Anglo Saxonish name Stewart comes out in Latin-ish Italian. Regardless, music. Well, to my ears)

Pix when we can. (Fine, fine. I’ll do mine!) Too busy having fun. Here’s what we’ve done:

Wednesday arrival, lunch at GMB. (over over the top coffee, pastry extravaganza at bargain prices just outside Cast.d.Lago. fotos here hint of same. enclosed is their idea of civilized morning nosh, above, and box lunch, below. BTW, I think the lunch delights came to under $10 USD. Box and bows included.)

Thursday Morning discovered Salvatore’s, the new take-out in Panicale. Best bread ever, plus wonderful seafood lasagna (recommended by Giovanna) and torta di Napoli.

Thursday Night we hit Cortona to visit Kathleen’s Peaks Island friends. Saw Pia! Air-kissed and said ‘hi.’ (that’s Pia of Nando and Pia fame our old friends at Bar Sport by the intersection of the piazzas in the center of town. Just beside City Hall and across from theater) Kathleen’s friends want to buy here, so we told them about seeyouinitaly! (why, thank you) They’re smart, cute and funny. Yet more nice friends to have here.
gmboxlunch
Friday, back to Salvatore’s, then Assisi and our first gelato of the season.

Saturday Ikea in Firenze — wait ’til you see my new living room! …

Sunday, back to Salvatore’s, then brunch at Elida’s with Sophia + Anna; Sunday evening dinner at the Peter/Sarah’s with gang of ten others. so good to see.

Monday Siena, so Kathleen could see St. Catherine’s head — and thumb.

Today, Cetona with the Bowers to visit their antiques guy — and have a three hour lunch.

Tomorrow, Rome. Jim is driving us because he wants to see the Coliseum, too. Nice, eh?
(they are back. loved it eternally they said. But, no. They didn’t elaborate. Assumed they were just still having too much fun. Wait, wait “I’ve got mail)

Rome. That’s a riot about the earthquake. We were rather like you, Midge and friends when you were at the Autogrille when the place had been evacuated for a faux bomb scare: innocents abroad. We knew nothing. Jim drove us to Rome to pick up Rob, who slept his whole flight and was plenty rested. We parked near the Circus Maximus, walked to the Colosseum, Forum, Pantheon, Piazza Navona and Trevi Fountain. Had a good lunch — and the most incredible ‘iced’ cappuccino. Lovely. Lots of walking on what seemed like terra firma!
(versus the italian word for earthquake: terremoto)
No time yet to swim in pools, patronize favorite local restaurants or take pix. Definitely will!

What … flood? At the office? (can you hear the roar of the fans? she’s in Italy, we’re here with broken water heater water lapping at our office door. sigh. Almost fixed! YAY.)

Baci, baci.
Kiki

In Italy, cielo really is heaven.

We had a clear clear blue sky here in Maine the other day. And Kiki says it is just blue skies and clear sailing, seventy degrees in Italy every day. She sends pictures of the roses doing their blooming best. As did our fiend Dily. She sends pictures of the roses Plus a sunset sky full of rondini (swallows.)

Which reminds me. . . when we were just there in Panicale we may not have deserved it but, we were treated to day after day of early April clear blue skies. It just got in that pattern and stayed there. Thank heavens. And speaking of heavens I’ve always been interested in the fact that Italians call sky and heaven the same thing: Cielo (chee ay low). So when, for example, Sant Franicis says “Ave, Maria, piena di grazia, il Signore è con Te Lodatelo, cielo e terra …” of course he’s talking about heaven and earth.

But when you run into a friend and point up in to the clear blue we can rave about heaven or sky. And can say “Che cielo!” and not be far wrong. But, if it really is one of those spotless blue sky days there is a way to take it up a notch. And standing by the fountain the other day on such a day, Lorena wanted to know what it was. We’d already done the “Che bella giornato.” and other pleasantries. And now, she tipped her head down a bit and looking up at me. Fixing me to the spot . . . ? OMG. Yes, wait wait I know this. She and Simone taught me this a year or two ago. Hard fought knowledge it was. And now, Simone’s stopped what he was doing and leaned back and crossed his arms, waiting to see how this will play out. They are both looking at me expectantly. Neurons misfiring left and drawing blanks to the right, the spot light sun bearing down on me, was I sweating like this when I got here a minute ago? Where can you hide in the middle of a sundrenched piazza? Cielo, cielo, something obscure, that I made even harder . . . Cielo TERSO!

Grazie a Dio di nuovo. We all sigh a big sigh of relief. I wicked didn’t want to let them down, remembering how they had to almost beat it into me the first time. How do you say slow learner in Italian: Sytoo? In my defense, it isn’t hard, just subtle. TerSo is, well was, a word I had never heard of. TerZo sounds, to this American, exactly the same. Ok, ok, bit more of a “t” sound to the “z” of course. But in that same spot in the same piazza a year or so ago I just couldn’t get past terZo. Which, means third and I figured if we could say Seventh Heaven, maybe they were saying “Third Heaven?” Ma, no. TerSo means cleaned, polished, spotless. And when it is truly perfect, that is what you call Heaven. Cielo Terso.

See you in Italy,

Stew Vreeland

Just a bit of nostalgia if you don’t mind

We own our house in Italy with our friend Kiki. Our favorite thing is when all three of us can go there at the same time. Second choice is either of us being there. And making the left behinds jealous. Which we got to do to Kiki in March. And now it is her turn. She just wrote saying she was in the garden, bathed in late afternoon sun, listening the swallows swooping and the tower bells ringing while having nibbles of pecorino cheese under a pergola of yellow Lady Banks roses.

It is the best time of year. I’ll be there in daydreams and in the meantime will be happy with memories and photos.

Here is a video of what Kiki is suffering thru there in the garden. From this exact moment last year.

And its not just all about our garden. The whole countryside is the Garden of Eden as we speak as evidenced by this video shot on May Day at Spannocchia last year. With thanks to our buddy Steve Callen of Panicale and Australia for his magical music and editing. Speaking of Spannocchia, they are the 1,000 acre agricultural tenuta outside Siena, but they are also sponsors of the Italian Life Expo coming up in Portland, Maine next month. See, if we can’t get ourselves to Italy in June, we’ll bring the whole county to US. If you are going to be near Portland’s harbor the 9th – the 11th, come get your daily requirement of Italy there.

ok, see you in Italy (or see you in Portland, June 9-11)

Stew Vreeland

DANIELLE, MY BROTHER

Oh and I can see Daniel waving goodbye
God it looks like Daniel, must be the clouds in my eyes – Elton John

Coming back from Magione, the lake, Trasimeno, is always a distraction. Especially now. Its waters in wide warm swaths of turquoise, its islands trying to decide whether to stay anchored in the lake or magnetically attach themselves to the sky of the same color gray carGRAY CAR! RED LIGHTS. BRAKES! STOPSTOP. The gray car turning against the tide of heavy traffic in both lanes – into a busy restaurant. No turn signals. Just brakes. The rest of us, in cars going both directions are scrambling to digest these sudden changes. And slam, one car, two car, three car, four, slam to a stop – inches from each other. Is that how it happened Danielle? Hand’s still gripping my steering wheel I can see out of the corner of my eye, he’s waving at me. Just outside my open passenger window. Right arm raised. Against a blue sky or a blue lake behind him. Can’t quite make it out.

At first I just saw the white cross beside me. Behind the new guard rail separating the traffic from the drop off down to the lake below us. At road speed I might not have noticed the cross, let alone the photo in the midst of its crown of flowers. And it would have been hard to have seen the name “Danielle” written in script above the photo. Easy to take it in here, from the seat of my suddenly lurched-to-a-stop Fiat. From the look of the photo it was taken on a day just like this. A day like any other to a twenty year old with the sun at his back and friends to wave to ahead of him. For the rest f his life. Danielle did you know how short it was going to be? Were you happy in the moment? Are you waving goodbye when the picture was taken? Or waving to get us to slow down today?

Heart beating a bit from our near miss, I’m trying not to, but I keep hearing the crash. Ours that wasn’t and his that was. The sound travels in shock waves, rattling sticks and leaves as it crosses the street, bounces off the parking lot and roughly whips its way through the windows, jostling glasses and silverware on the wooden tables. Heads snap up and freeze, diners digesting, processing, the quick in the crowd scrape their benches back on the concrete floors, and run towards the source of the sound. I see the would-be rescuers, wrinkled cellophane cut outs in a video loop, jumping up running for the crash, jumping up running toward the crash, jumping up, running, jumping. Glassy ghosts of survivors, are still here, still running, still hoping for a different ending the next time the video plays. The survivors themselves probably aren’t here right now. But Danielle is. Still waving as I drive off.