Category: Wiley Traveler

Yes, The Wiley Traveler has Landed

Finally! A Vreeland is in residence there in Italy. In our Home Sweet Home away from Home. The Wiley Travel flew into Rome Thursday after a couple fun filled weeks in London. And drove straight to Panicale. All business now! She found our house “almost” ready for company.

PANICALE, Umbria, Italy— Finally! A Vreeland is in residence there in Italy. In our Home Sweet Home away from Home. Wiley Vreeland aka: The Wiley Travel flew into Rome Thursday after a couple fun filled weeks in London. And drove straight to Panicale. All business now! She found our house “almost” ready for company. Said it went something like this: Buckets, mops, cleaning products everywhere. Beds stripped. Rugs airing over balconies. Oh there you are, Anna. I thought you knew I was coming? Well, I only ask because . . . you know how we said we had company coming? When? RRRRRRRRRing. That would be the doorbell.

So, that worked out.

And a friend from California, who has a place down the block, just got off the train from Venice. She and Wiley have catching up to do immediately. So, The Wiley Traveler will be A Busy Traveler, immediately. She has her car organized, cell phone powered up and working. Now she is scurrying around getting email and computer hooked up, and up and down the streets of Panicale she is reconnecting with all our many Italian friends in town, too.

She has many, many new places to see on her list and is looking forward to all of the adventures that entails. She and Paulette are hoping to see a new property in San Casciano dei Bagni right away. Paulette says the town is totally A List, with her. We just reviewed the book A Thousand Days in Tuscany set in that very town. Feel like I have been there already. More news on that as it becomes available.

STILL COUNTING THE DAYS: 33

Our trip to Italy is shaping up well too. Midge and I would be there now, but we need to wait for our other daughter to get back from the jungles of Costa Rica. When she does get back, sea turtles and rain forest canopy both sufficiently protected, we are off like a shot. We are happy just knowing our friends, our Wiley and our home await us there in Italy.

We will let you know how it goes routing a trip to Italy through Holland. Several people we know have made connections to Italy via KLM lately, but we had not done that yet, so this is all new for us.

Wait a minute! Wiley! How DOES our garden grow?

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

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

Ah, Siena. Ah, Spannocchia. (A Wiley Report)

At an hour and half away from Panicale, Spannocchia , is just far enough away to feel like a mini vacation and just barely far enough away that you can rationalise spending the night. The drive there is easy and really it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t. We’d go anyway!

SIENA, TUSCANY—How do I love Siena, I couldn’t possibly count the ways. So when Erin, our friend at Spannocchia, just outside Siena, invited me to come stay the night I was beyond excited. Erin is the director of the foundation there. She is also our neighbor in Italy and in Maine!

At an hour and half away from Panicale, Spannocchia , is just far enough away to feel like a mini vacation and just barely far enough away that you can rationalise spending the night. The drive there is easy and really it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t. We’d go anyway!

This grand AgriCultural estate sits atop over 11,000 acres and includes a castle, a major villa, a chapel and lots of interesting and original farmhouses, a classic Medieval Tuscan hilltop community, in short. We have definitely written about Spannocchia before. Here is a Siena/Spannocchia blog from this time last year. But it is just so amazing I want a whack at it, too . . .

Note from Stew:
the photo above can be clicked on to see it in enlarged form.

When I was 13, my family went to Italy for two months. As I said, I was 13, it was the end of eighth grade — I would be missing eighth grade graduation!! Now I was not completely upset about the missing school situation, but foreign countries are scary and/ or boring when you have no idea what you’re doing, where you’re going or what you’re looking at and what people are saying.

But something special happened in Sienna and at Spannocchia. It was all just so pretty, so calm and dream like in its simplicity and elegance, with such amazing history and a great sense of fun. In Sienna it was the Duomo’s Piccolo Uomini Library that captured my heart, at Spannocchia? Pizza Night!

Now, nearly 10 years later, I had never been to Spannocchia for any other night except for Pizza Night. So when Erin emailed and asked if I would come on a Monday (pizza nights are Wednesdays) of course I said YES!

Between Italian class, webpages and phone calls that followed me literally up to the gates of Spannocchia I was definitely ready for some of Spannocchia’s white wine to empty my mind on the terrace before moving on to the official pre-dinner drinks, -Red, this time- in front of the fire.

Then dinner. It started out with Ribolita, a Tuscan, twice-boiled, vegetable and bread soup that seems to warm your insides as soon as you look at it. Of course totally enough for a meal on its own, but true to Italian form, we were literally just getting warmed up. It was followed by their own thin, succulent, pork filets, little cakes with pine nuts, limoncello and huge amounts of laughter.

After dinner we gathered back in front of the fire to see all the pictures from Spannocchia’s last batch of visitors, this is an annual group that includes Erin’s parents Gail and Peter, that goes to Spannocchia in order to continues the rescue and restoration work on “The English Garden”. This year a highlight was a woman from Maine helping everyone make animal statues out of pine needles and branches including a set of wild boars.


Then it was time for bed, but I’m sorry, I just can’t sleep. Why? Because it has started to rain, and when I say rain I mean it is pouring buckets out there. Y’know how you count between the thunder and lightning to see how far away the storm is? Well, that storm was right over us, directly over us, and it just would not budge. The windows were rattling, the shudders were shaking, it was loud and it lasted all night. But it felt kind of nice to be in this big all- weather, weathering castle and snuggling under the duvet listening to the rain as I eventually drifted off to sleep.

After breakfast the next morning of yogurt and muesli, hard boiled eggs and coffee lots of coffee, I swam down the road and back to Panicale, canceling house viewings along the way, and wishing I had another week, another lifetime to stay at Spannocchia.

. . . 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.