Category: Wiley Traveler

Classic Cars. Delivered fresh to your door.


PANICALE, Umbria&mdash “Vieni! Wiley! Vieni qui!” Erica is calling from the door. I hear a rumble and her tone is decidedly… come sei dice? Tickled? I run up the stairs, turning the oven off as I go. It’s about quarter to eight in the evening and still as bright out as it was during siesta. As I round the stairs something shiny and red comes into view behind Erica’s silhouette – are those aviator goggles?! OK, I’m confused, is Panicale the new center of the Bermuda triangle- sometimes I wonder- but really? In any case I bet this’ll be good. Camera! Upstairs! I race up the stairs, grab my camera and head back out in the street just in time to watch the 20-car rally glide and grumble by.

And then, on Via Filatoio, a road that is definitely not use to the deadly Grid Lock. And most certainly not use to a full-on, 10-minute traffic-jam! But talk about a photo shoot opportunity! Hoods were waxed and sparkling in the light. Shiny, out-for-the-day, well cared for cars lined up- complete with women in hats, scarves and sunglasses; and men in goggles, driving gloves, captain’s hats and one in a gleaming black helmet (helmet gleaming, owner beaming). And all this without admission, without even bothering to put on my shoes. La vita é bella, infatti!

See you in Italy,

Wiley

AND IN A PARALLEL UNIVERSE . . . FAR, FAR AWAY . . .

PARIS HILL, Maine—In the Wiley Traveler’s story above, did you notice something distinctly non-Italian going on there? Yes, those classics were all MG’s made in England, wrong-hand drive and all! Meanwhile back in Maine, on the same sunny summer day, I was at a classic car show and what did I see? The 1938 Alfa Romeo Spider. Superleggero. Totally unrestored and original. One of the most sought after Italian cars in the world. And it is in a private collection in Maine. Oh, it would have loved being in a Rally in Panicale on a summer evening!

Note on the Grid Lock mentioned above. This is not the first time we have seen classic car rallies on our street there in Italy and hopefully; it will not be the last. The rallies are usually a sedate, but carefully timed and controlled event. Non of that Vroom, vroom, Yay, I beat You stuff. Molto sistemato. Our understanding is that each driver is trying to drive a certain distance at a very precise and controlled speed. So, the traffic jam / photo opportunity is usually caused by the timing table set up in the piazza letting only one car go at a time. The beauty of these rallies is that the course is a surprise to the drivers and the town. When they appear SURPRISE, they appear. If the course was posted in advance, some drivers would practice it to the disadvantage of those who did not get to. There. Sum total of my alleged knowledge on the subject.

See you in Italy,

Stew

World cup time. Being there on the night the moon turned red

This just in from the Wiley Traveler “our man” on the ground in Italy for complete World Cup reporting. It is like being there in person on the fun historic night. When the game started at 9:30 or so it was still more or less totally light out. Just like it was when the partying slowed and almost stopped when the sun came up over Umbria this morning! Yes, the photo below shows even the poor shlubs in Maine get the news.

la dolce vita and Wiley was there and got to share. Here’s her report:

Celebrating the World Cup in a small town in Italy, some well honed slightly controlled chaos We have a video link, JUST CLICK ON IT AND LET IT HAVE A MINUTE OR SO TO DOWNLOAD.

Or, worst case, last resort, you can see it by selecting and pasting this link into your web address line should get you the movie: https://www.seeyouinitaly.com/morephotos/ItalyWorldCup2006.mov

A NIGHT TO REMEMBER. WORLD CUP NIGHT. JULY 9TH, 2006

I can’t believe Italy won, they won— and I just happened to be in Italy to see it— lo shock!
Heading down to the barretto to watch the game, aruging with my friend about who is going to hold the camera, it is big and slightly obtrusive and my argument is — she should hold it cause she’s from Panicale. Her argument is — I should hold it cause I’m not. But once down at the barretto the camera sharing begins as it is just after half time and the crowd is alternating between silence, boos, foosball, drink orders and raucous cheering. You can not hear much and can hardly see the TV so the crowds general vibe is the only way to glean what’s happening- AND THEN THEY WON- 5-3 in penalty shots! Tense, lovely jaw clenching penalty shots- AND ITALY WINS THE WORLD CUP 2006! All hell breaks loose – and my camera dies. My freshly charged, raring to go camera dies just as the first guy jumps in the small pool under the barretto followed by hoots and hollers and now six more people are in the water along with a few chairs. And everyone is laughing and hugging and taking their shirts off and waving the shirts and the flags and chanting. Some of the crowd running around with their heads cut off, others standing silently in a corner kissing a rolled up flag again and again.

Then I head off to charge my battery- I don’t want to miss much more of this- my father will kill me if I don’t have something to show for the win, so I run down the street waving to all the honking cars, the lights flashing. Children, arms, feet, flags and horns hanging out the windows. And then it turns 11 and the church bells begin to chime. It is loud, chaotic, bright and perfect.

I run into the house and try to call my family. They don’t know the score yet so they won’t answer the phone. (yes, that is them, celebrating back in Maine in the photo here on the left – the happy morning after) The entire, dark expanse of hills and streets from Panicale to Cortona is lit with cars flashing their lights. The view reverberating with a general rumble of celebration, punctuated with eruptions down the hill one minute, from the piazza the next, kids screaming – let loose and running through the streets. I can already see police lights flashing down below, but I honestly can’t tell if they’re celebrating or starting the heavy task of keeping this night in order.

Then back to the barretto to find my friends and on to Castiglione Del Lago and a concert on the lake. The concert is packed, with armchairs and coffee tables on the uneven, tree-filled patio. Frozen drinks and foccacia being sold, streams of people milling about on the sidewalk and of course a cars blazing by still honking and screaming every few minutes. The band is sort of reggae big band and it has everyone from babies on their parent’s shoulders to big white dogs on the dance floor. Fairy lights and big ’we are the champions’ smiles everywhere you turn.

At 4, when the concert ends, we drive back to Panicale- the moon is just this side of full, and it is red— not orange or reddish, but low in the sky and a deep, deep red. Two of the guys have been singing Ramones and The Clash and French cheers turned into Italian insults, then they start singing red army songs about the red moon and finish up with a few sleepy cheers. We have a nightcap of pasta with garlic and hot peppers and then at 5, we notice the red moon has gone and the sun is starting to draw the black from the sky. So we climb up the hill a little woozy and still a little in shock. And Italy won! ITALY WON! Buona notte, buon giorno, no lo so, ma — FORZA AZZURI! FORZA ITALIA! FORZA AZZURI! FORZA ITALIA! ITALIA E PRIMA IN MONDO! CIAMPIONI !!!!!!!!

FESTA DELLA NAZIONE?

OK, Where’s the Party? My place?

PANICALE, Umbria— That’s what they say today’s holiday is. Festa Nazionale. Off to a funny non-typical start for a holiday in Umbria. Well, at least one in June. Its dark and chilly, but the clouds parted a bit late in the afternoon and sure enough a tent went up in the piazza. They were selling local olive oil. Wiley says Katia’s family’s oil is part of the brand that gets sold with the town logo on it (the painting by Perugino of St Stephen). We got a tin of it for our Italian American neighbor Carlo, back in Maine. Always take presents that are heavy and/or breakable. Our one firm, unbendable Vreeland Family Travel Rule.

We are so slow on the uptake. The festive carved watermelons in town might have been a hint? It appeared to us that the one tent in the piazza was the sad sum total of the Festa. But some patient person took pity on us, took us strangers in a strange land, by the hand and pointed out there were galleries and cantinas open down every alley in town. How did we miss that? Always surprises us when these fun places open up. Day in and day out they present blank, ancient wooden faces to their alleys and we mindlessly walk by. Nope nothing there. Nothing to see here folks. Keep moving. Then, a couple times a year they unbar those doors, swing them open and start slinging wine and bruschetta at you in one and olive oil and local fagiolini (broad beans) in another and so on right around the town. Some are old wine storage places with ancient wine presses or wooden casks left behind for ambience. Some are proper pastel painted galleries with modernistic Italian lighting in their arched ceilings and views over gardens. Totally changes the feel of the town in the Where Are We sense. Once the light bulb went on in our tiny brains we knew where all these cantinas often are and passed ourselves from one to the next buying bottles of wine, jars of saffron, more wine. One place had a fish-based bruschetta which sounds rather odd but tasted rather divine. Benefits of an open mind and, in this case, open mouth. We came, we tried, we liked!

What a fun and revealing trip around town. Can we really be this blissfully unobservant? Our house sits between two tiny stone streets. We get use to using our top street. Its where our main doors are, its just the logical path of least resistance and makes the smoothest, easiest entry. But we do have an entry on the lower back street, our back alley in Panic Alley, Umbria. The trip we took through our lower street today to see all the local products on display was a real eye opener. Something has happened here. Can’t fool me. We looked away for a minute and What the Heck, we done got gentrified down there. I’d heard that Patrizia (of elegant restaurant Lillo Tattini, right on the piazza) had a rental place in town, just didn’t know where it was. Today the massive doors that close it off from the world are open and it is chic, chic, chic. But what am I talking about, the whole street is looking great. Che shock. I think it is our downstairs Roman neighbors relentless application of flowers and more flowers followed by liberal application of lace curtains and polished wood doors. We have one double set of doors there and we are polished wood and lace curtains and our garden looks ok from that angle too now that I look up at it. But Massimo and Stefania da Roma really put us to shame with red geraniums spilling out of every door and window opening. When we bought our house our “door” on that street was a mangled mess of old wood sort of shielding a dirt floored stack of moldy junk from view. Sort of. A place where soft hearted neighbors slipped in plates of food for the wildcat swatter residents of Casa Margherita. Not now. Less Cat. More Chic. The things you can find. Right in your own back alley.

WATCHING THE HOME FIRES BURN

Anyway, what with all this activity we shill-ied and shall-ied a bit too long and Masolino’s was fully booked so we decided to stay in and nosh. Salads, cheeses, bread and the Wiley Traveler’s outrageously fine escargot. So successful and tasty and unusual that, since it has been raining off and on all day, we went out in the garden and scooped up several dozen more latent escargots candidates (lumache) to start the next slow food event! Our garden isn’t big but it is like a game preserve for the local lumache. Big honkers too. See typical Garden Variety Big Game next to euro bill in photo for size. They are all that big. Luckily this game is somewhat slow moving, so hunting and tracking them is about my speed. The preparation is the really amazingly slow part of the process. Six days from snail to snack! Wiley is writing the story of the preparation, but now that I think of it she’s being slow too, isn’? Hmm. The ultimate Slow Food, indeed?

We settled down for a fine night by the woodstove, playing Scopa!, teaching my brother and his wife the fine points of this fun Italian card game. And somehow . . . it made us a bit thirsty and we sampled all the wines we had carried around from the festa until oh no. All gone. How did that happen?

As early sixties writer, H. Allen Smith might say “These photos illustrate the type of work the Vreeland brothers do”

Until next time,

See you in Italy!

Stew

Talk about Slow Food

This just in from Italy. Sneak peak at what’s coming up in the Wiley Traveler’s Experimental Kitchen. Stay tuned to this Bat Channel for the details!
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SNAILS— Collected 30 in the garden today and am trying my hand at preparing them and cooking them- according to local experts it takes 6 days to prepare so the Drakes (visiting cousins, not feathered friends) may get Prosecco and Chiocciola Buffet in the garden . . . little buggers are cute though- and it make me feel bad cause— yup, they are cute. But I love escargot- and otherwise they just go in the dumpster- they crush them up as pests lots of places in Italy. So we shall see . . . pictures and instructions, and hopefully good results, in a week—

Wiley

Cooking Light in The Land of Carbs

Later this month I head up to Lugano- a lovely Swiss resort town on Lake Lugano, (near Lake Como) in the Italian speaking part of Switzerland. I am going for the 50th reunion of The American School in Switzerland, which I attended my freshman year of high school. School’s 50th. Not mine!

Let me tell you that was an adventure in and of its self- from Bulgarian roommates to palomino ponies, black bulls and pink flamingos in the Camargue, Carnival in Venice, to performances of Guys and Dolls and Grand Fetes, to having friends and classmates from Turkey, Kazakhstan, Mexico, Uganda, Japan, Sweden etc. It was a culture shock to be sure, but one of the most amazing shocks you could ask for. And certainly a turning point in my life- if you are allowed to have one at 15.

So now, 7 years later comes the school’s 50th reunion. And I am so excited- Daniel is meeting me in Zurich after his own whirlwind of traveling, he is going to the Champion’s League Final in Paris the day before- GO Arsenal ! But I’ve convinced him that TASIS and Lugano are worth mild jetlag and a couple of flight-filled days- and it’s true this reunion should be amazing! Non vedo l’ora.

THE LAND OF CARBS

However, I am currently in Italy-the land of carbs; pastas and pizza, bread, bread salad, bread soup, 4 course meals (at least), plus Stefania’s desserts at Mossolinos and cappuccinos at Aldo’s, not to mention that gelato season is well and truly here! Whew! And while that is all well and good- and one of Italy’s greatest charms- if not the greatest- I am heading to a place where last they saw me I was 15- I just checked in the mirror- and for better or for worse I’m not 15 anymore- and by the way-what is up with that?!

So here I am, in Carb Land with big- bad, delicious, hard-to-resist, hard- to-eat-in-moderation waist-thickeners all around. And Slimfast not to be found on any shelf of any store- and I really cant do Atkins- Agaaaaaaiiiiii . . . So, now what . . .

Well this is also The Land of Fresh Produce, right? Ok I can work with that- tomatoes, onions, mushrooms, zucchini, lettuce, spinach — check! And the supermarket also has some great seafood as we’re on Lago Trasimeno- so I grab some mussels and some shrimp. Couldn’t find any chicken fillets (absolutely anywhere)- so I bought a whole roast chicken. Now they don’t have Slimfast but they do have Wasa crackers- thank god for Wasa crackers- they are my carb outlet at the moment. And lets see forgot the eggplant (or Mellenzane- which is a word that strangely makes me smile every time I say it- so it’s got to be good!). Throw in apples, Probiotic drinks, and lovely dark Perugina chocolate- for those moments when tiramisu wont stop calling and I need chocolate- NOW! And I have to say with my cupboards loaded with bag o’soups and the fireplace filled with sacks of oranges I have been doing all right.

My dinners have actually been exceptional. On the first night of my cooking light experiment I took vegetable soup from a bag (yes I can cook, but man, these soups are so good- and there are so many different kinds- they’ve ruined me) popped in some hot peppers, mussels and shrimp and presto- I had an amazingly delicious meal that lasted till lunch the next day. Top it off with grilled apples natural yoghurt, and local honey for dessert. — Yup, I was pretty pleased with my self, cheating the system and loving it!

The next night, a salad of romaine lettuce, topped with warmed mushrooms, onions, peppers, chicken, garlic balsamic vinegar and mustard. The kitchen smelled gorgeous and I was so full I only had enough room for a Prune yoghurt- yes Prune, bought it by mistake, but I’m telling you I will buy it again. Yay for supermarket surprises- the biggest surprise is it is hard to go wrong- it’s all good even if you don’t quite know what it is.

Then last night I made one of my Mother’s specialties, Eggplant parmigian ( we make it without breadcrumbs) and with homemade tomato sauce, fresh ricotta and mozzarella . . . Mmmm-whaah! Bellisimo. Would Lasagna have been better- NO! c’mon carbs get with the program- it’s Spring veggies are out and you are so last Winter.

Even today, driving in Parrano, there were so many cars parked along the side of a deserted road- ‘Ah,’ said Katia knowingly ‘they’re looking for asparigi’. Vegetables are even dictating weekend activities! Although, I must admit, I do do bad in the mornings- Aldo has a special breakfast for me Kiwi and Strawberries topped with yoghurt gelato- and how can I resist that! Ok . . . and a handful of Cappuccinos with sugar- if no ones looking. And I do keep driving past Pellicanos, dreaming of their pizza-to-go, and how easy it would be to order one and sneak it home and none would be the wiser. BUT, I have two weeks to lose 7 years- and although I doubt that’ll happen I at least want to eat well enough now, so that I can enjoy the Prosecco and pizzas in Lugano.

Now, I don’t have a scale- but my favorite linen trousers are looking pretty good- probably due in large part to the running around for Seeyouinitaly- and the miles of stairs in our house.

OUR OWN WISTERIA LANE ?

And our garden is great for a tan- even late into the evening, catching the sun’s last few rays as it falls pink behind the hills . . y’know now that I think of it- this is actually SPA ITALY- and I think I’m gonna go sit in the sunshine and eat my spinach salad under the Wisteria and Roses and wait for my masseuse to arrive- wait where is my masseuse?!- You mean a facial doesn’t come with this garden! Oh well, I guess I can live with it- if I have to:)!

See you in Italy! And in Italian speaking Switzerland!

Wiley