Can not wait. Non vedo l’ora!

What to do, what to do? Dinner at Masolino’s first? Or coffee and hot gossip at Aldo’s? It is like the old Seinfeld program. A show about nothing. We never know what a trip to Umbria will have in store for us.

Finally. It is my turn to pack up the laptop and head off to the airport. Pilot, head this rig east to Italy! Can’t wait to see daughter, Wiley. She is the legendary Wiley Traveler. Anxious to see what adventures she has had. And together see all our old friends and new property listings! What to do, what to do? Dinner at Masolino’s first? Or coffee and hot gossip at Aldo’s? It is like the old Seinfeld program. A show about nothing. We never know what a trip to Umbria will have in store for us. I always try to stay open and flexible but things always flood in from all sides, time evaporates and I will be back on a plane headed west long, long before I will want to be. But, in the meantime, I fully expect to enjoy every moment to the max.

Oh, I have to share this. No, this is not a photo taken on a back road of Umbria. But just something designed to give me quantum nostalgia for the back roads of Umbria. A perfect little purple Ape, separated at birth from its homeland and somehow, someway transported to an apple orchard in northern Maine? I slowed down, shook my head and turned right around on a side street in Portland, Maine when I saw this beauty. Vintage 1969. And who knows why they call these Apes and their cousins, the motor scooters, Vespas? You in the back. That is correct. It is because of the sound they make. Like Bees and Wasps, those Apes and Vespas buzz up and down the streets of Italy. And at least one street in Portland.

Allora, if you will be in Panicale in October, we will wave madly, and say . . .

See you in Italy!

Stew

WILEY’S FIRST LONG TERM VISIT: AND FIRST IMPRESSIONS

The blur began with finishing university in London (Yes, I have the papers to prove it!!). And coming home to Maine for SeeYouInItaly boot camp, and now I have landed in Italy again to ––– well–––to begin!

CENTRAL UMBRIA — Well, let’s see . . . where do I begin? Is today Wednesday? I have to admit the past couple of days– the past week– the past few months have been a blur. But now that blur is slowly starting to become a dream! The blur began with finishing university in London (Yes, I have the papers to prove it!!). And coming home to Maine for SeeYouInItaly boot camp, and now I have landed in Italy again to ––– well–––to begin!

Last week here was a crazy week full of cell phone buying, unpacking and learning how to drive here, there, and anywhere else, my mother and I could think of. But on Monday, lessons finished, and after dropping my mother off at the airport, I officially dropped down the rabbit hole.

First off, driving the three hours back from Rome by myself, with my father’s words firmly in my head ”When you pull out onto a road you are not pulling out onto a road in Maine, you’re pulling out into OMIGOD! ” Well, lucky for me I avoided all ’omigod’ situations on the way back, and only had a little bit of traffic and rainfall! And I have to say, it felt good, pulling into Panicale in my little car, heading to my little house, and knowing I got there on my own. I came in and made myself a big celebration dinner– pasta with pesto (and Italian gods don’t kill me– but I put a little Tabasco sauce in it too– my version of something old, something new,?!) also had some of the great farm fresh ricotta that the Spannocchia girls brought us from their tenuta outside Siena, mmmm was that nice, and yes Mom if you’re reading this, a green bean and tomato salad! Then at about 10:30 crawled into bed and passed out– talk about big girl!!!

GREEN HONEY. AND DATING HABITS OF BLUE HAIRED UMBRIANS

Yesterday I woke up facing blue skies outside my the window and my first day alone– what to do, what to do? Work? Well that would seem like the right thing to do, but luckily I was saved from my own good intentions by our friend Celia, from San Diego. Celia found a house on SeeYouInItaly several years ago, and today was looking for some company– and some BEES!! Sounded like good enough fun to me; so, met Celia in the piazza at noon and promptly got sidetracked!

It’s Orfeo that’ll do it every time. After a brief hello, Celia told him about her quest for a particular hand cream made from bee products – that quickly led to Orfeo running into his house, grabbing his car keys, and leading us down the hill to his friends ”they have the best honey– you don’t need to go to Chiusi! You come to them”!
And so we went and arrived at a large house on a little road off the main hill to Panicale where an older woman was sorting through a basket of freshly picked mushrooms– soon her husband had made his way out, and we had small plastic spoons of honey in our mouths– then slow and heavy steps outside heralded a surprisingly young son (and bee keeper) just as a daughter, grandmother and grandchild came driving in– and in all this mayhem we managed to come away with two jars of lovely dark honey!

After our nice little detour we headed over to Chiusi where Celia’s friend and owner of a fantastic restaurant in the old city, Simoneta, greeted us warmly, handed us wine and quickly saw to preparing us food. No real ordering. Melanzane was the vegetable of the day– so I heard that word being said, other than that– Celia knew what she was doing, so I just sat back and let her. After meat starters, pasta, and a warm bean and tomato salad– all superb– we rounded out the meal with pecorino and honey (surely to keep with theme) . . . Man oh man it was a feast!

Later, as we strolled back to the car, more likely waddled, I noticed a very interesting difference between Chiusi and Panicale– In Chiusi all the benches and door stoops were filled with women, all sitting and chatting, fanning themselves and petting cats, well, as anyone’s who’s visited Panicale knows, in our town this sight is very unusual, it’s the men who take up the benches– but in Chiusi no men were to be seen– am I seeing a dating show? Umbrian Bench Dating, I really think I’m onto something here!

While at Simoneta’s we had discovered the bee shop that Celia had been told was 3 km away was really an hour away– uh oh . . . However! On Sunday I had been to Cetona for the first time with our friends Peter and Shiranee—and at the base of a particularly striking church piazza I had noticed a very strange word–Apinare? I had asked peter–Ah. he said, To do with bees . . . . hmmm well, Cetona was only a touch away and also has a great pottery shop– so, no harm in checking right!

After directing Celia where to go (yeah I remembered! See I can do this Italy Stuff!) We walked into the main piazza in Cetona, a lovely long piazza, very different from a lot of places around this area, and made our way up to the Apinare e Erbologist. It was a small shop with loads of goodies! And a father daughter sales team, who once deciding we were there to buy turned out to be very knowledgeable and very helpful . . . and although they didn’t have exactly what Celia wanted, we both came out ladened with plenty of unneeded stuff! I myself some bee pollen, royal jelly, and some ear candles! Like I said, totally useless, but incredibly fun!

Then we headed back to Panicale, where we caught the last of the sunset– and then onto dishes, and finally unpacking– yes it isn’t all glamour I’m learning!

SOUNDS OF SILENCE. GOOD NIGHT, UMBRIA

And it’s a funny thing, I’ve gone to sleep in empty houses before, but I think there are normally 3 things that can go through someone’s head alone in the dark, the first, being am I safe, well the doors are locked, the windows shut– and oh wait, I’m in Panicale– so check that one off the list. The second, it’s an old house– are there ghosts? Well I distinctly get the feeling that there is no other inhabitant in the house, so that’s alright, but it is strange, not eerie, but strange– there is no noise, none whatsoever, the sound of a buzzing insect can actually make you jump as you read in bed. And if the window is open, there are sometimes voices that find their way in, but it is very serene, but strange– I’m used to wood houses– I’m used to sounds you have no idea what could be making them– I’m used to living in a creaky house in Maine on the side of a noisy highway with four other people—and let’s admit it guys, we’re all pretty loud! Not to mention living in a five person flat in London– talk about loud! And now, suddenly, I’m in bed surrounded by thick stone walls, a sleepy town, and my own thoughts. But somehow it is not a lonely experience– maybe it’s the circular shape of the city or seeing my parents’ touches on every wall or even remembering that on any given day this house has the potential to become Party Central, but it feels like a hug. A great big Italian Nonna hug! And sleep comes very easy.

Today I am Actually Doing Work!! Yeah, it’s all going well, with breaks to do dishes and sweep and weed the garden, and chase the cats! We have two new kittens, one black and one white that have decided that our garden is their home, truth be told I’m assuming they were born here–and yes they are cute– cute as newborn kittens, but, no, our garden is not their home, which is something that not one of the town’s cats understands! And on any given day can be found asleep on our garden posts or in the lavender. Now our cause is really not helped by the fact that our neighbors —we suspect– are throwing food into our garden for them. Now, we could be wrong, but finding a large bone on the stairs doesn’t really help their case! So you can probably find me every few hours running around like a mad woman, chasing a kitten that is too small for you to see from the street– I was always good at first impressions! But apparently I am good at mimicking the action because today at Linda’s market I was able to mime out the whole thing to Linda and the Lillianna and tell them all about the kittens and all the cats, and it was nice to get some sympathy– and know that when all else fails charades work in any language– and in Italy they especially enjoy a little descriptive song and dance!

So that’s where I am now– about to make some nice soup in a bag– they really are great! Watching a Beatles video on German MTV– and trying to figure out what the message my Italian phone just sent me actually means! So we shall see, we shall see, but there is a flamingo sunset on the horizon, and warm stone steps underfoot and although my Italian isn’t anywhere near communicable, a smile will get you far in Umbria, and I have one at the moment that I just can’t seem to wipe off my face.

Umbrian Pears in The Big Apple

These people research Renaissance paintings of fruit –“Natura Morta” – (interestingly, we talk about “Still Life paintings”, Italians say “Dead Nature” paintings. Ugh.) and they try to find trees that still bear that fruit today. Sometimes, there will be one tree in all of Italy left. Or worse, just someone’s memory of one.

Have you seen The New Yorker? Big, engaging article in Sept 5th Food Issue about our corner of Umbria. Very interesting story focused on the people who have a Folk Traditions Center just outside nearby Citta’ di Castello. Article is called “Renaissance Pears. Saving the fruits of the Medici”. They research Renaissance paintings of fruit –“Natura Morta” – (interestingly, we talk about “Still Life paintings”, Italians say “Dead Nature” paintings. Ugh. Who was the copywriter on that one?) and they try to find trees that still bear that fruit today. Sometimes, there will be one tree in all of Italy left. Or worse, just someone’s memory of one. Before the war there was tons of diversity, now there is much less. Everyone moved off the farm and into the city after the war.

The founder, Livio Dalla Ragione, was a decorated partisan hero during the war and a well known Roman artist after the war. Today, his daughter from Perugia runs the center and works the orchard of hundreds of trees herself. They also rescue ancient tools and other vestiges of rural farm life. But it sounds like their real passion is rescuing the fruit that is quickly going extinct in Umbria in the last 40 years. They say they want to save not only the tangible symbols of those days gone by, — but the actual smells and tastes as well. Today everyone eats the same boring two kinds of apples and three pears etc that they find at the supermarket.

I was very taken with the article and the concept and I’m definitely planning on going in October to see Livio and his daughter’s collections. Yes, i know this is a photo of my entire pomegranate harvest last September. It is holding a place for a photo from the Dalla Ragione’s orchard when I go there in October.

Ok, that’s the cultural and agricultural news for now. Tune in tomorrow for a complete list of Fall Activity in Umbria!

Boston, London, Rome, Rinse, Repeat Going The Other Way. Tracking down the newest member of the SeeyouinItaly team.

Weren’t we just in Umbria a minute ago? Can we really be in England? Must be. Where else are there two story high red buses, the tall black cabs and flower–covered pubs with improbable names on every corner?

LONDON, via Umbria — We were going by England on our way back from Italy when we thought, gee we’re right here — why not see our daughter graduate from college? And now she has gradutated. And she has a job!

Weren’t we just in Umbria a minute ago? Can we really be in England? Must be. Where else are there two story high red buses, the tall black cabs and flower–covered pubs with improbable names on every corner? And look, swans and sculls sliding past us on the Thames. It is not just the stuff of magazines and post cards, after all. It is all totally real. And totally engaging. That is the London we love and look forward to visiting as often as we can and it is right on our way to Italy. So we do stop by there often. We had very strange timing this trip, what with the bombs going off twenty-four hours before our first stop in London. That was on the way to Italy. And then, of course, the second batch of bombs was going off as we were taking cabs to the airport to leave London.

OK, that is less than great. We’ve loved our daughter being in school there. Last year both our daughters were in school there and we loved it twice as much. They are both done with London for the moment but we’ve all got so many friends there that we will just worry and fret for them too. And we will be back. It is going to take more than a few crazy people to keep us from seeing our friends in London.

HAVE YOU SEEN “THE GRADUATE”?

This was a big and memorable weekend. Wiley graduated in her Hons program in broadcasting at the University of the Arts, London. Got her BA in three years by getting the school to believe she really didn’t need to be a Freshman and could she just start as a Sophomore please. No idea how that worked out. But it did. Way to go Ms Wiley. She came. She saw. She graduated.

Wiley is coming home to the States this week and BIG NEWS she is going to start learning the ways of SeeYouInItaly here in our offices in Maine and being a new marketing assistant. In September she is planning to be in Italy and seeing houses and learning the ropes on that side of the ocean. She is also planning to further her Italian studies. She was in Italy for a month last September and really raised the bar on those Italian language skills by a mile. And then, true to form for a marketing girl, she found out her teacher had a house she just could not sell. And a very nice place we all thought it was. Wiley referred her teacher to the broker, we put the house on the web and Bada Boom Bada Bing sold it in short order.

Clearly, the focus of the trip was the graduation. What a fine and impressive ceremony. And what a location! Very downtown. Buses and taxis swirling about, Big Ben a block away in full view, Westminster Abbey right there across the street. Go over and touch it if you like. Seemed all wonderfully unreal. Still pinching ourselves a bit. (By the way, parents of college age kids — did you know that universities in the UK are about one fourth the cost of university’s in the US? Can you say 12,000 dollars a year vs 40,000 something? Un-huh. That’s what I’m talking about. Yes, we were able to rationalize a trip now and then to see her in Italy and in London)

Later that fine graduation day, post-ceremony, we got together with friends and supporters of Wiley’s at her favorite Moroccan restaurant. American friends, Italian friends, British friends. And that went on and who knows how long it went on. Good times were had by all. I’ll fight anyone who says the food is bad in England. We had so many Italian restaurants on our streets you wouldn’t believe it. Literally one after the other. And there truly is a nice Pizza Express on every corner in London these days. And the Lebanese place we ate in! Oh my yes. No idea what I ate but think it was chic pea related and I know it was gooood. And does anybody know when did the English stopped drinking tea? I mean clearly they have. I tried to photograph and write down the names of the coffee places within 50 paces of our apt on St. Christopher’s Place. Not just Starbucks, trust me. Huge places named Carducci’s with every kind of Italian coffee and pastries. And a few feet any direction lurked more coffee-oriented fare. I gave up trying to document them all, like grains of sand on the beach. Any where we went in London we could get ourselves as cappuccino-caffeinated as our wildly beating hearts could bear. But, I say Old Bean, Did I see any Tea Shoppes? I think not.

OLDE ENGLAND VS NEW ENGLAND

And now, just some random pictures to prove we really were in Olde England vs our New England. We think London is always a fun thing to do on the way to or from Italy and always worth a side jaunt. We might take BA Boston to London and then Florence. Or Rome. Oh, and thank you British Airways for upgrading lucky us to the giant business class fold all the way down sleeper beds in the sky. I’ve always wanted to see what kind of high life was happening at the top of those stairs in the big jets. And yes, I will have that complimentary champagne now, thank you very much. Ta! Cheers! Ci vediamo, la prossima volta.

A July in Umbria

When we arrived at Masolino’s on Sunday night there were a couple tables full and then ours with the tiny gold Reservato on it waiting for us. I asked our friend Andrea if it had been a busy summer for him. Over his shoulder he said ”non ti credi”. Within five or ten minutes I saw what he meant as the place filled solid including the outdoor balcony. Which was grand for everyone until the mother of all summer storms hit with wild wind wild rain lightening all at the same time. Waterfalls pouring over the awnings drove balcony dinners running into the already full restaurant with their plates in their hands and napkins flapping like speed streaks behind them.


Whew. Made it. Arrived. Just ahead of a dramatic summer squall. Dark trees in waving seas of sunflowers. Bathed in bright sun one moment and dense shade the next as white clouds traded places with black ones every few seconds. Changeable as our rental car radio. It’s a Lancetti. Well that seems properly Italian now doesn’t it? But it is a Daewoo. And the radio just comes on full blast whenever it feels like it. If I could only find the off button but it all seems to be in Braille and you know how it is when you jetlag yourself off the plane and first insert yourself back into polite society. More airline stories later.

We are so easily amused. Or another way of putting it is that small pleasures are often the best. One of our great treats in Italy is to arrive dog tired and stay awake long enough to get to Masolino’s restaurant and have the Belfico family cover us in comfort food and then go climb into blissful sleep coma and get two night’s sleep in a row almost and gently get acclimated to this time zone.

When we arrived at Masolino’s on Sunday night there were a couple tables full and then ours with the tiny gold Reservato on it waiting for us. I asked our friend Andrea if it had been a busy summer for him. Over his shoulder he said ”non ti credi”. Within five or ten minutes I saw what he meant as the place filled solid including the outdoor balcony. Which was grand for everyone until the mother of all summer storms hit with wild wind wild rain lightening all at the same time. Waterfalls pouring over the awnings drove balcony dinners running into the already full restaurant with their plates in their hands and napkins flapping like speed streaks behind them. And no place to go till they set up places for them in the bar. We have eaten there a million times (conservative estimate) but never had Mamma Brunna’s Sunday lasagna special and special it was. A drop of prosecco please and lights out.

NOW ATTEMPTING RE ENTRY INTO EUROPEAN TIME ZONES

I can’t really make sense or talk the first day back so seeing houses and trying to take pictures immediately is almost counter productive so I gardened like a maniac the whole first day and got everything how it wanted it. I can garden and prune in my sleep. And sort of did I suppose.

The next two days Midge and I went around like crazy seeing houses with Katia from Citta della Pieve in the south to Cortona in the north. What a fun whirlwind and you will eventually see the results in This Just In and on the web pages. One townhouse in Cortona really rings my bell. Neither words or pictures will ever do it justice. 490,000 euros and well, just totally down town and just stupendous, classy, chic. Architect designed and finished with such good taste. And views out to Tuesday that include high lake views. Won’t tease you any more with that till I have all my photos organized.

MORE MORE PERFAVORE
(more MO ray, pear fa vore ray)

Before gardening the first day we needed artificial stimulation in the form of our morning cup or two of cappucchino our favorite caffine delivery system of choice until they invent a convenient IV drip system for home use. Good trip. Between cafe Masolino and cafe Bar Gallo (they are four doors apart) we got two dinner party offers and one was for that very night. Life is good.

Post gardening Midge did the right thing and took a siesta. I did what was right for me and went for gelato. What’s this? Looks a new flavor to me. MOray. OK, Moray. I’ll bite! And lick too. Black berry is written ”more”. I can remember a yogut in a store with the engaging headline ”piu more” which I kept wanting to translate as more more. But in reality is more blackberry.

This is my flavor du jour for the trip. Must totally be the season. I have at least one blackberry gelato a day and love each new one as much as the first one. That is Aldo at the top of the page handing one of many. Last night I completed the MOray Trifecta. Totally by accident. My favorite dessert is Stefi’s famous Panacotta. Cooked cream never tasted so good. She can do it with chocolate, with a carmel or my favorite Frutti di Bosco. Wild berries. And at this season that means more MOray. Say it with me now! MOray. MOray. And after dinner Andrea brought us complimentary after dinner drinks and asked what we tasted in it. Midge got it on the first try MOray. More more more. I really can’t get too much of this good thing. And the Recioto della Valpolicella classico Domini Veneti was a very good thing.

TUTTO E’ POSSIBILE

Everything is possible in Italy we have found to our delight. The culture is so accommodating. I feel guilty admitting how often our friends here fill needs we didn’t even know we had. We are undeservedly covered with kindness. Just yesterday a neighbor passing by our house noted our highest figs seemed mature and that we needed to harvest them. I agreed in concept and (trying to get out of manual labor) said my ladder was too short.. A couple hours later Bruno was calling over the garden wall with a gigantic ladder and was soon up in the tree. But first he whipped out a bright red train engineers oil can and oiled all our shutters’ tie back mechanisms. When we got to our terrace we saw he had delivered, unasked, a waist high pot of basil. I protested we were only going to be here, as he well knows, a couple more days. He just shrugged and smiled. The next night when we got home, this bouquet of artichoke flowers was on our coffee table. Not for you. For your wife, Bruno said with a wink. Is this a great country!?!

MUSIC IN THE AIR.

We can see a baroque church from our house and today we could see it and hear it. A group of flutes was practicing for a concert later in the afternoon and their notes were wafting magically through the air over our garden and into the streets for anyone who was quiet enough to separate them from the swallows and cicadas. Another day in Panicale. Or. We have died and gone to heaven. Watching the literally unbelievable pink pink Hollywood sunset over the village church and the lake a couple hours later, we started believing that maybe we had slipped off terra firma and into another more peaceable kingdom.

HIGH. AND DRY?
Up in the air over the wide, wet Atlantic. And surrounded by water. In the plane. In the airport. In sport bottles of every size and shape.

Water water everywhere indeed. When did this start? Did I NOT get the memo, again? Every person, on every plane I’ve taken lately has had a bottle of water ready for their use at a moment’s notice. Bottles in their hands, sticking out of pant’s pockets, snugged into special holsters, hung on belts and on all sides of back packs. Ok, how incredibly under-hydrated am I? There are drinking fountains in the airports and places to buy and drink water all around in the airports. And on the plane the waitresses in the sky are handing out drinks rather non-stop. Water, coffee,tea, and excuse me, excuse me. Must step over sleeping giant on aisle seat to go to the bathroom. Now. After 20 hours of being forced fed liquids almost constantly, if anything I’m feeling OVER hydrated. And my hands are full. I would so sit on my bottle and look more out of control than usual.

Lance Armstrong. Middle of France. On a mountain. Several hours into the ultimate aerobic exercise. Now, HE needs a water bottle. I saw whole families with a bottle bolted to every member from baby to teenager to parents with their hands and arms full of strollers and diaper bags. But if we crash into the Sahara, then who will have the last laugh?

SPEAKING OF ALL WET. HERE’s A REAL CORKER

We landed in London. Lines for passports, lines for shuttles. And then we had some off line time waiting for our gate to be announced.

A nice looking middle aged man pulled his bag over and sat across from us. Business man? Manager? Computer technician? Who knows.
As soon as he pulled out a plastic bag and began rooting through a minor league cornucopia of candy and chocolate odds and ends. Wait. now what’s he doing? Yes, I think he has just pulled out a wine glass. A glass wine glass. With a stem on it. Short stem, ok. But a stemed wine glass. Now he is polishing it intently with a Kleenex it appears. And out of a grocery store shopping bag comes a half full bottle of wine. The cork is sticking partially out. He pulls the cork, pours himself a glass of red, crosses one knee over the other, swirls the wine around takes a sip like he is on the Via Venato on a summer evening. Except this is Heathrow. At 5:15 a.m. I was a bit sleepy and confused at the time. But I really don’t think I could have made that up. Later, I thought, do you think maybe he started out by having a sport bottle habit and just took it up to the next obvious level?


IF YOU ARE IN THE MOOD FOR SOME BOLOGNA

Wow. This Grisham book is quite different. No court rooms. Just barely any lawyers. And surprise. It is all in Italy. Just like we are. Full of Italian dialog and characters and places.

It gives the sense that Grisham himself is in the midst of learning the language and the rhythms of the streets as he is writing this. And like his character in a witness protection program, changing into and becoming a real Italian. Good summer beach chair ”thriller” or ”giallo” as they say. (three layer and ja al low. That comes close to how you say them. Well, in StewWorld.) OK, it is not Shakespeare, but it kept me turning the pages much later in the night than I may have intended.

Allora, I hope this stream of consciousness wasn’t too random and maybe gives a peek at one tourist’s week in Umbria.

See you in Italy!

Stew