What is in your Dreams?

Our new friend, Kathy of Dream of Italy, Travel Newsletter quoted little old us in her latest edition which featured Tuscan Hideways.

UMBRIA, 45 DAYS TO GO—
Well, this was a fun diversion. Our new friend, Kathy of Dream of Italy, Travel Newsletter quoted little old us in her latest edition which featured Tuscan Hideways. Her newsletter describes itself as the “Insider’s Guide to Undiscovered Italy: Newsletter and Resource Center”. And it does that very well based on her latest edition. She had a great cover story on an exotic estate outside Florence called Mangiacane. It was certainly undiscovered to me! And the story made me want to go there, even if I probably will not be able to avail myself of its helipad in the foreseeable near future. But I can Dream, can’t I?

This is SO not an ad. But Dream of Italy is a paid subscription newsletter, so I guess you will have to get take our word for it that we were in there. Or get a subscription. But there we are. Right on page 8 talking about Tuscany and Umbria. I made two points about finding something economical in Tuscany. The first one was that buyers need to consider southern Tuscany, the area around Chiusi. The other way to save money on Tuscan real estate is to . . . buy in Umbria! And why the heck not? Umbria is Tuscany is Umbria. Really. Those rolling cypress-topped hills do NOT have a clue where the border is. All the same to me. If you look at a map, Tuscany is on about three sides of Umbria anyway, driving down the road, even on a casual jaunt to Cortona, we find ourselves going across the border over and over. Tuscany, Umbria. Umria, Tuscany. Who cares? They are both great!

Anyway, Complimenti Kathy, nice to know about your publication. We were tickled to be mentioned in it.

YOU CAN QUOTE ME ON THAT!

Spring is here? Spring is there! Spring is everywhere?

Spring in Italy. We’ve all been shut up in our homes all winter, like bears coming out of our Caves with Cable, sniffing the air, rubbing our eyes with the back of one paw, scratching some matted fur with the other, looking around and thinking This is ok. Did I miss any thing? Suddenly I am getting emails like Where ARE you? When are you coming? Did you know “your garden is green and flowerish” Perfect. Just how we like it.


UMBRIA—Ah, Spring. I like the word Spring. Such a nice, bouncy action verb. And who doesn’t like all memories we attach to the word? Bird sounds when you first step outside in the morning. Fruit trees in full flower, sheep in the meadows, yellow wildflowers rolling on and on over the Italian countryside. And grass. Green grass in that unnatural green color that we only see in the first lush early days of Spring. It really is here. Well, it is “here” if you are in Umbria, true. It is still snowing in Maine. But in Italy, at least, it seems safe to say Spring has arrived.

And everything really seems for a moment, somewhat right with the world. Note: this rose colored view is greatly enhanced by skipping the morning newspapers and just going quietly out into the morning. But, things have changed. Italian friends are upbeat and happy. We’ve all been shut up in our homes all winter, like bears coming out of our Caves with Cable, sniffing the air, rubbing our eyes with the back of one paw, scratching some matted fur with the other, looking around and thinking This is ok. Did I miss any thing? Suddenly I am getting emails like Where ARE you? When are you coming? Did you know “your garden is green and flowerish” Perfect. Just how we like it. The electronic jungle drums beat out other happy messages. Yes, Anna is cleaning the house top to bottom. And, trust me Anna DOES do windows. And does them like I’ve never ever seen windows done. She turns glass into polished air. And, speaking of windows, good friend Bruno HAS hung the new chestnut shutters Vittorio made for the entry hall windows. I’m sure the town was tired of seeing us wandering about in our bathrobes behind rattan blinds.

Little by little, even if it is being done by remote control from far away, we’re gently waking the house on Via del Filatoio from its long winter’s nap. Breathing life into back into it so it will be ready for Wiley.

THE WILEY HAS LANDED

LONDON—Slightly sleepy, slightly jet lagged, but still excited to be back on that side of the pond, Wiley calls to check in, five time zones away from Maine. And only one away from Italy. Getting warmer. Closer.

She will just miss Italian Easter this year. Too bad. It can be such a fine time to be there. You miss a lot if you get rain, as that often cancels out Good Friday, Stations of the Cross, and plays heck with the Day after Easter Cheese Roll in Panicale. But shortly after Easter she’ll be along and be sending in reports on all the latest real estate, fun gossip and Big Girl Adventures in the old country.

These spring photos here were taken by Katia, at a brand new listing — Ciliegio, just outside Piegaro . Have you been to Piegaro? Its right there between Citta della Pieve and Tavernelle. Keep going past Tavernelle and you find yourself in chic, fun Perugia. Piegaro is just south of Lake Trasimeno and of our Panicale. Here, I will put in a map.

Anyway, I thought these snapshots evoked the season. Complimenti, Katia. They say Spring to me.

But then. What do I really know about Spring? See attached photo of snow covering our car taken on the self same day as Katia&rsquo’s Sheep in the Meadows shot. Allora, Spring will even get to Maine. Sometime. And we promise to be most appreciative when it happens!

But, in the meantime, look out Umbria, Wiley will be In The House in less than two weeks. Stew in 48 days. But like Christmas mornings we thought would never come, the time will actually pass and we will wash up once more on Lake Trasimeno’s shores. And it will be worth the wait. Va le la pena in fatti!

See you in Italy!

Stew

GOT ME SOME ITALIAN BLUES

Sigh. Trying not to check the calendar more than once a day. Because, I tell myself —in my most logical tone of voice— because Stew, that is just not really helping at all. But. A bright spot is daughter Wiley Vreeland. Living life vicariously through her, for a couple weeks. Her Countdown to Umbria Clock has ticked down to much smaller numbers than mine. She’s closer in number of days, and in geography. The Wiley Traveler should be landing in London in a couple days. So, technically she will at least be on the same continent as Italy. Checking maps again. Yes, same general continent.

Ok, NOW how many days? 54? Sigh. Trying not to check the calendar more than once a day. Because, I tell myself —in my most logical tone of voice— because Stew, that is just not really helping at all. But. A bright spot is daughter Wiley Vreeland. Living life vicariously through her, for a couple weeks. Her Countdown to Umbria Clock has ticked down to much smaller numbers than mine. She’s closer in number of days, and in geography. The Wiley Traveler should be landing in London in a couple days. So, technically she will at least be on the same continent as Italy. Checking maps again. Yes, same general continent. Anyway she’s seeing her artist/musician boyfriend Daniel in London for a few days and should arrive in Italy mid-April. Midge, baby Grayson and I follow along as soon as Grayson gets back from Costa Rica. She is saving the sea turtles of the rain forest or something equally noble. As I understand it from the brochure, she will be able to easily Save all the Sea Turtles In Just One Two Week Vacation! After all that turtle saving, we finally arrive in Italy late in May. Holding breath, turning blue, till then.

Give me down to there hair
Shoulder length or longer
Here baby, there mama
Everywhere daddy daddy

I’ve decided the mature way to handle waiting out the days till our departure would be to continue my Haircut Boycott. No more waiting for Godot. Oh no, no. We’re waiting for our barber buddy with the big silver bouffant, Biano da Panicale. He’s our stylish barber and chief news source. Like any good barber, he knows everything that is happening in his town. And, beyond barbering, he’s a darn good photog too. He took the Red Red Ferrari photos on the home page, as a matter of fact. But, like I said, his day job is being the town barber. And our barber. Our only barber since 1998. The gap between our last trip and this upcoming one is about twice as long as usual. Ergo. So is my hair. Vreeland’s head photographer Katherine snapped this hirsute photo while we were in the midst of hanging yet more Italian debris in our office this morning. Poster was an eccentric movie theater sized poster that arrived 20 years ago courtesy of our friend Massimo of Torino. Be honest. Haven’t you always wished you were named Massimo? What? That’s just me? Oh. Regardless, you have to love the promo line they used on that Frattelli Blues movie there in Italy. “The most explosive combination since nitro and glycerin”!

More soon, when we start getting Wiley Traveler reports direct from The Old Country.

Saluti a tutti,

Stew

Tunnel! Light at end of!

Airline tickets to Italy. Check. Maps. Check. Camera. Trip diary. Check. Check. Oh, yeah, we’re counting the days now. 56 to be exact. Then blast off. May May 25th come early this year. Please. Isn’t it based on the first full moon after the high tide or something? You know, like Easter?

Airline tickets. Check. Maps. Check. Camera. Trip diary. Check. Check. Oh, yeah, we’re counting the days now. 56 to be exact. Then blast off. May May 25th come early this year. Please. Isn’t it based on the first full moon after the high tide or something? You know, like Easter?

Non vedo l’ora as they say. That DOES actually translate as “Can’t see the hour” But it certainly means to imply “I can’t wait“. And, you know, I HAVE tried clicking my heels together three times. Huh. Funny. Worked in the movie.

Reduced to Reading about Italy

Here are a couple I’ve just added to the book shelves of our “Italian room” that show how wrongly eclectic we are, even within our Italian reading.

Well, it is obvious now. I am really and truly reaching for Italy-related stories. Daughter Wiley, the Wiley Traveler, is leaving for real live adventures there next month, but I can’t go for a few weeks after that. Totally reduced to day dreaming and going through photos and helping friends plan trips there. And reading every book ever written on the subject of Italy. You should see how many books we have here in our house. We’ve had to put all the Italian themed ones in one room and they fill all the shelves there. Books, brochures, maps. Ok,the Library at Alexandria it is not, but it is pretty deep in there.

Here are a couple I’ve just added to the book shelves of our “Italian room” that show how wrongly eclectic we are, even within our Italian reading.

THE RELUCTANT TUSCAN

This first book is a bit of a surprise. Most books about moving to Italy and restoring an old house are so romantic and staryeyed you may want to spitup. I was beginning to think it was required for the genre. The author of Reluctant Tuscan, Phil Doran, clearly did not get that romance memo. He is the RT of the title and a smart mouthed Hollywood writer for TV shows. He was drug, kicking and screaming from LaLaLand to LaDolceVitaLand and just being himself he quickly runs afoul of his wife, his neighbors, and the town officials. He’s surely a better writer, than a neighbor. Actually, it’s a relief to hear a non-romantic version of the classic “moving to Italy” story.

Oh. Sorry. You wanted Romance?

HOW SWEET IT IS

At almost the opposite end (that would be towards the Saccharine end) of our book shelves would be “A Thousand Days in Tuscany” by Marlene de Blasi. Like Frances Mayes (Under The Tuscan Sun), Marlene is writing in and about our neighborhood. Mayes is just north of us in Cortona. And de Blasi is south and east of us in very nearby San Casciano dei Bagni. We are in Umbria, both of them are in Tuscany. They both are American writers with brand spanking new Boy Toys. And compulsive need to Cook and Tell. And boy, Marlene will tell. And not just about cooking. Maybe her new fella Fernando doesn’t read English, I don’t know. But if he does, he now knows she doesn’t fight fair. She mines every fight they have for all its literary worth. And then she writes about the makeup sessions. I just go by all the soupy stuff. And speaking of soup, i do just breeeze by all the recipes at the end of every chapter. Of any book. What is that about? I’m reading along in a novel and suddenly I need a recipe for “Deep-Fried Flowers, Vegetables, and Herbs”?

So there’s that. And she does want to tell us EXACTLY what she wore on any given day. Where writers I could relate to in a meaningful way might say “then I went to town” she would first tell you what she wore to town: “Twill jodhpurds, riding boots, a white lace shirt, its collar tight and high as my chin, a soft leather jacket the color of sweet wine, my hair pushed up inside a brown beret.” Wait, wait. Did anyone ask what you wore to town? Having said all that, she is an amazing writer and wordsmith and I’d read her again I suppose. Mixed in with all the frilly stuff are some evocative observations of everyday life and food and fun and festivals. And hey, she’s a neighbor. Must be supportive. She also has a book on Venice. You guessed it: 1000 days in.

SPEAKING OF COOK BOOKS?

Have you read Julie & Julia? Fair warning. Absolutely less than nothing to do with Italy. But I’d heard it had a blog theme. I kept reading about it, seeing great reviews, etc. The Julie of the title (Julie Powell) did a cooking blog where she attempts to cook every one of Julia Child’s 600 recipes in her original 60’s cookbook classic. In a single year. Even the goopy stuff only sophisticated continental types could possibly keep down like calves brains, tripe, marrow, the whole works. In whatever grisly order they happen to fall in the book.

So, I was thinking: Hey, my mom cooks. My mom has a Julia Child cookbook or two. She reads blogs. Well, I think she reads this one anyway. Why not get her this J&J book? Which is what I did for Christmas. Had it gift wrapped right at the store and sent it on its merry way to I-O-way. Without opening the book. Well. Here’s a Helpful Holiday Hint: don’t ever DO that. No, no, no. See the cute cover? And note that it seems to be a cookbook? I KNOW. Me, too. What I did not know, until 2 months after I sent it to my sweet, 85 year old, Sunday School teaching mother was this: Julie, sweet 29 year old Julie, swears like a tattooed sailor being led down to the brig. And even when she’s not swearing up a storm, she talks about stuff I would not go near. Not with nobody. Let alone my mother! Even allowing for all that, I have to admit, Julie is one laugh out loud funny funny funny writer. Hysterical. Sometimes, literally hysterical.

ENOUGH WITH THE BOOKS ALREADY

Lets talk booking reservations. Lets talk travel. Calendars seem to say Midge and I may get to go in May. And the Wiley Traveler should be traveling even sooner, in April. So soon, very soon, we’ll all be saying in happy unison . . .

See You In Italy!

Stew