Category: Aldo & Bar Gallo

IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO BEFORE UNPACKING IN ITALY


PANICALE, Umbria— WE ARE HERE IN ITALY! The first thing you do when you get here is hug your way around town. Kids, women, men of all ages. You are right, We sure do not do that in Iowa. Well, not the real men anyway. OK, quando a Roma! You know that opening scene in the old TV show “Cheers”? Norm walks in and everyone goes N-O-R-M-! They make us feel like that here. Does my heart good to feel missed. Which is only fair because wow we really did some missing of our own. All right. Hugs taken care of. Then, sort of in order:

Coffeecoffeeecoffeeandgelati.

Balcony dinners by sunset over the lake

Dinner out in the country with friends serving fresh mussels in garlic. Oh my.

Swimming in Lake Trasimeno. In May! Splash down in Italy indeed. Barely landed and we are taking a dip in the biggest and best pool on the peninsula: Lago Trasimeno. Thank you George and Litta for a fab day at the beach. PAR TEE BARGE PAR TEE BARGE.

A concert in a baroque church in Panicale

Finding my brother Roger and his wife Donna at the Rome airport. An all day affair. Ah Roma. All’s well that ends well, they finally got in from Amsterdam.

Boy were they tired. Boy, did the fireworks keep them up.

Saw four properties in Cortona, met friends, had an outrageous good dinner.

THEN we unpacked. Wild times here in Umbria. But don’t get me wrong. No complaining allowed and there has been some fine gardening and some heavy sitting in the piazza digesting the scene and the pastries and the coffeecoffeecoffee.

More news and pictures from Panic Alley shortly.

Midge and Grayson (baby daughter returned from the wilds of Costa Rica) are flying in now. We will have a good full house and a full and rich vacation. Springtime in Umbria is a fine fine thing. Highly recommend it to one and all. Hopefully tonight is PIZZA night.

See you in Italy!

Stew

. . . THE NEXT DAY

Aldo is in his cups. In quiet moments he is washing up a lifetime of Sunday coffee cups, when one jumps straight up out of his hands and does a suicide swan dive onto the hard, cruel floor below. Not again. What can we say? It has been a funny, full moon kind of day. Well, funny unless you happen to be one of Aldo’s coffee cups or Prosecco glasses, of course. And I guess you would have to say, it been a smashing day for them, too.

PANICALE, UMBRIA— Today’s fun was hanging with a group of Australians in the piazza. Saw Emma and Luca going by after church let out and finally got to meet ”la contessa” Luca’s cool, Mamma from Sarzanna. Our table is positively full of Sunday morning Prosecco drinkers, . . . and . . . here comes reinforcements! Oops. One hits the ground. Aldo? Dropping a glass? Later, instead of letting him clear off the tables we decided to be really helpful and brought our glasses in with us and Wiley tumbles one. Here comes the broom again. Aldo laughs and sweeps us all toward the door — Everyone go home to lunch! Please. Which we all, obediently, do.

Now, lunch over, I’m in the garden, but I’m going to put down my pencil and just doze in this patch of sunshine. Just. Sit. Very. Still. Like my new role model. That lizard on the plum tree’s branch a few feet away. He thinks I can’t see him. And I barely can. But it is just the two of us. Absorbing the absolute last bit of today’s solar energy.

Ten minutes later:

Pssst. Wiley. Wiley? Want to go for a late afternoon walk after your nap? Wiley? Guess that would be a no.

LA LUNA ERA PIENA. AND IT WAS A FULL MOON TOO.

More Cuckoo. Less Swallow. Actually, no swallows at all. They are so omnipresent in Summer. Hard to think of them as seasonal, fair-weather tourists, like us. Their visual acrobatics are nicely replaced by the gentle coo-coo’ing of the cuckoos that you hear but never see. Oh. There is Wiley. Did I wake you up?

Early evening, the weather still grand, we took a lap around town, took a couple sunset photos of the town. Happens every time. We walk, we get thirsty. We end up at Aldo’s where he pours us some drinks as we lean on the polished metal bar. Fresh squeezed combo of orange and grapefruit juice only, I promise! Finally, the crowd has died down and it is just us. And Aldo is in his cups. In quiet moments he is washing up a lifetime of Sunday coffee cups, when one jumps straight up out of his hands and does a suicide swan dive onto the hard, cruel floor below. Not again. What can we say? It has been a funny, full moon kind of day. Well, funny unless you happen to be one of Aldo’s coffee cups or Prosecco glasses, of course. And I guess you would have to say, it been a smashing day for them, too.

Uh, oh. Company Coming.

I tell Daniel to take a nap- and head out- and I feel relaxed, until I see my knuckles are white and my jaws clenched- ok relax girl, there is no traffic and its easy- stay focused- don’t look at the clocks that say 3.30- eeek!

This is another WileyReport. This was a lost file from last month’s September Grape Harvest festival.

Today- I did two loads of dishes, one of laundry, spruced up the whole house, took out the trash- please tell me I put it in the right dumpster! Swept the garden, scraped all the dropped figs of the ground- there were bucket loads. And buckets more appeared as soon as I had finished. Went to Castiglione del lago for gas and phone money. Worked on a web page.
Went to the piazza and struggled through a conversation with Simone at the bar to ask if there was music in town tonight- there wasn’t -but no matter, but I understood what he said and tonight I go to Bertonni to see Celia.
But man was I tired- never underestimate how long chores can take- if you’re not really sure what you’re doing!

I was just heading over to Celia’s to watch a folk music concert- which actually turned out to be a comedy play and town Cena! When I found a note on my door saying PAULETTE WAS IN TOWN!!!! YEAH!!!!!! The gray clouds don’t matter- life is good I got another party buddy, and an arty, fun up for anything one at that! So I make my way down to her door- and ambush poor, fresh-from-San Francisco-via-a-week-in-Paris, Paulette into coming with to Celia’s- and of course she was up for it. We went to a great Cena (town dinner of Pici and Duck) near Celia’s and then headed home before it got to late, only to go back to Paulette’s and stay up drinking wine and talking until 3.00! Excuse me- how did that happen?! (photo is the kitchen ladies in their official shower caps resting post cena . . .near Bertoni. By Paulette and her trusty Sidekick cell phone)

Then Friday was the day of reckoning- More tidying, more website, at 6.00 Paulette came over for some snacks and wine- and to send me on my way to Rome- alone- to pick up Daniel. OH MAN! Well the drive there was fine; I made it all the way, with surprisingly good radio, and little traffic. Daniel got it at 12.45 from London we were on our way back by 1.00- late but fine.

. . . And then our trip took a little detour! Well, y’know it is such an easy ride back from Rome, and it really is, especially in the daytime- but at night there are a lot of things you took for granted in the day.

Like it’s only my 5th day driving in Italy. I’m driving a new car (see photos) that has loads of new dash instruments, a little distracting green light in the rear view mirror, a massive overhead skylight. Italian direction signs that look different at night. Loads of twists and turns, and an exit that goes straight! While the main road takes a jagged badly signed veer. Then when you take that exit, and realize it seconds too late, because its easy to see in the day, but invisible at night, you think you’ll be able to just hop right back on…oh no! You drive 20 minutes until you see a hotel, run in and teach your boyfriend how to say- bona sera, parla inglese? Oh thank goodness the answer is yes! He tells us how to get back onto the main rd. where I see a sign for the airport and think ’ forget it I’m starting over’! So back at Fiumicino we begin again. I tell Daniel to take a nap- and head out- and I feel relaxed, until I see my knuckles are white and my jaws clenched- ok relax girl, there is no traffic and its easy- stay focused- don’t look at the clocks that say 3.30- eeek! But we make our way back and are home by 5.00 am. When Daniel suggests I open my birthday presents! Yeah! I feel my second wind! So we do that, and they are all great! Really lovely and I even got a jacket which I needed as it’s a touch cold and rainy lately, but never mind that, because after all the excitement of the night before- we are ready for the Festa!!!

Oh, Boy, we’re all gonna be famous, now.

When I say we, I mean in the Panicale we, sense. Panicale is in a big national travel magazine here in Italy that just came out.


PANICALE, UMBRIA—When I say we, I mean in the Panicale we, sense. Panicale is in a big national travel magazine here in Italy that just came out. Early this morning at Masolino’s, Andrea showed us the new October issue of ”DOVE” magazine with a big spread on our little town. That is DOVE as in WHERE, not as in Turtle Dove. Flashy, glossy, full color ”WHERE” magazine you see all over Italy. Che shock. And it is talking about real estate and what a good deal it is in this part of Italy and how they are going to tell their readers all the secrets of Umbrian Real Estate. We’ve been in some of the properties they mention but it is still fun to see Panicale with its name in lights so to speak.

AND IN THIS CORNER, WEIGHING IN AT . . .
This is the one where Tigre, the cat, explains life to the Great Danes. And their little dog, too.

ALDO’S CAFFE, PANICALE—The brightly red-haired Danish lady is standing by the bar. Is her name AnneMarie? She is there with some other fun Danish friends. Wiley waves Hi to her and we get introduced to the new people. I could not feel more ignorant, than when I think how casual Scandinavians all seem to make learning that second or third or twelfth language look. Anyway, with enough therapy maybe I can get over that. In the meantime, the cute young blonde between AnneMarie and myself has made a circle motion that encompassed all of them while being introduced and said, without any, repeat, any accent, ”Actually, we are all Danish” All this time, AnneMarie has been holding her black and tan pixie-ish terrier in her arms and drinking her coffee, sort of around the dog. So, in a smart-aleck way I said ”Oh, a bunch of Great Danes”! Note to self: attempts at intercultural humor before caffine on my part should be held to an absolute minimum. No matter. Without a nano second of time passing, The Cute Dane ducked down so she was way shorter than her already Very Tall Dane Dad and said pointing up at him, ”HE is the Great Dane. I am just a regular sized one.” Cute and Quick.

Introductions over, I ordered a cappuccino and sat down with some English people we had just met the night before. The Danes finished their coffee and let the terrier on his leash propel them towards the door, waving back at us over their shoulders. When All Animal Hell broke loose in Georgia. Tigre the massive, uncontested, king of the jungle here must have been dozing in the sun under a chair by the door. And the new puppy must have thought, Hey what is this? And that is when POW! BANG! YIPE! YIIIIIIPE! HELP! Cat, Dog, Danes, and multiple Baristas all blew out through the glass doors, into the piazza. In an unreal scrambled, screaming mass. It was really very like the Popeye Blutto fight scenes where you would see this big ball of blur and an arm poking out here and a head there.

I was kind of trapped behind our corner table but through the window we could see AnneMarie yank the terrified terrier straight up in the air by his collar and strangle dangle him there as high over her head as she can reach. I’m sure Mr. Terrier wasn’t complaining. Hung by the neck like a cattle rustler? Or cut to ribbons by a silver and black buzz saw? That is a tough one. And so is Tigre. Even caught cat napping, he’s dangerous. He weighs in several kilos, surely twice the terrier’s soaking wet weight. Eventually, the animal and people din died down and I could see the Danes wiping the blood off poor puppy’s nose. Ok. Now. Whose piazza is this? That’s right. Sweet, innocent purp, he had no idea what hit him. Other than it was fast, furry, and furious.

Later that day, after everything sort of calmed down and we knew that all the combatants were going to be all right, I said to Aldo, ”Boy, I wish I had had my camera on for that melee”. He just said ”La prossima”. Wait for the next time.

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