Fall in Umbria Archives - Page 3 of 5

Happy HALLOWEEN.It came early in Umbria this year?

No, this isn’t Halloween, but a WileyReport recap of the Grape Harvest Festival. Who knows what the theme was this year, but it was crazy costumes and wine-dispensing floats as usual. Just another day in the neighborhood.

PANICALE, Umbria—After all the excitement of the Road Trip to Rome, the night before- we are ready for the Festa!!! Yeah, go party people! But it is chilly, and rainy and party people are dropping like flies. But Celia and Paulette and Daniel and I are set to go to the cena- and go to the cena we will!

Its absolutely packed and after a long line with loads of women coming through with heaving trays shouting permesso! Are appetites are totally whetted and soon we are sat down on at big plank tables and for 20 odd Euro we are getting bruschetta’s with beans and crostini, garlic and olive oil, tomatoes . . . spaghetti with wild boar sauce . . .grilled pork and veal . . .salad . . .bread . . .wine . . .wine . . .wine . . .oh sorry got a bit lost! And finally grapes with blueberry pound cake and vinsanto. Well . . . that’s wasn’t hardly enough and after all that we made our way to Aldo’s where we met up with Anna Maria a Danish art expert and former dentist and indulged in Cappuccino’s, Proseccos, and Limoncellos . . .yes completely overkill . . . but absolutely incredible . . .oh and gelato!!! We also took many a turn at the Pesca…a charity draw type of thing where you pay a euro get a scroll, and get the prize that matches the number on the scroll . . . we ended up with an ashtray and matching Limoncello glass, an air gun, a fanny pack, a change purse, and a kitchen knife- so some excellent finds!

On Sunday it was a bit rainy and fireworks and parade were cancelled: (BOO!) But, oh well, we had our little blue feed bags that hold wine glasses, that you can get in town to sample local food, wines, fabrics and art. Well, of course the wine was phenomenal. The ostrich meat and salted beans could make you weep… and the biscotti and pecorino with honey just well . . .left you speechless. Now you’d think Paulette and Daniel and I would have been fine with all that, but we had reservations at Masolinos- and you just don’t break reservations at Masolinos- especially with Steffania’s deserts- no way! So we sat in a warm little food hole eating — just about everything! The taligata (thin slices of beef covered in arugala and parmigian) as the absolute show stealer, with the umbrechelli (thickly rolled pasta) with peperoncino, garlic and tomatoes, an easy second place. Wow! And then another bout at Aldo’s- of course- it wouldn’t be Sunday night of the Festa without say a grappa and maybe a cappuccino with amaretto, right?!

These fine festival fotos are from the famous Paulette of San Francisco. The parade was put on when the weather cleared, a few days after the originally scheduled, but rained out date. The float themes are always puns on the word Vino. Vinocchio instead of Pinocchio, etc. but what the Cadillac, discomania theme line was, no one seems to remember. Still researching. Of course with the observers all dutifully on the grape, their testimony is somewhat suspect anyway.

Later that same day, word in from the coast: The Vampire? The Castello of Count Drac-uva. Dracula=Drac-uva. Uva means Grape. Ugh. Italians are less prone to puns than some cultures. But they will stoop to them and they even have a word for them: Giochi di Paroli. Word Jokes. Still waiting for resolution on the word joke based around the disco theme.

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.

AUTUMN IN UMBRIA. LOOK OUT NEW ENGLAND!

Why, it is almost like being in New England. This October in Umbria has had color everywhere. You just have to know when and where to look, as you can see from these photos around Lake Trasimeno.

Why, it is almost like being in New England. This October in Umbria has had color everywhere. You just have to know when and where to look, as you can see from these photos around Lake Trasimeno. The big ones above are on a house in the main piazza in Panicale. The reds are from what we call Virginia Creeper and they call Vite Americane. The photo with the statue is in a park you see just as you are leaving Cortona. The road drops down and to the right, this is the lovely park straight ahead for those of you that have been there. And for those of you that haven’t? Put it on your list. Cortona is very special. Amazing walking around town. I’ve eaten a million places there and they have never done me wrong. Of course. This is Italy, after all, but still, even for Italy, Cortona is very high on my list.

Meanwhile. Back in Canada. . .

We go right into high gear on quarterly garden maintenance today. Communing with nature. I haven’t been here for three months so we’re talking about a garden of a rather overgrown nature, but I look forward to digging right in. Weeding? Sign me up. Pruning? Good for me and the roses. Cleaning up the goop that fell out of the fig tree? Arruhgh. What a mess. We seem to have like the Exxon Valdeze of fig trees.

CASTIGLIONE DEL LAGO, UMBRIA— We go right into high gear on quarterly garden maintenance today. Communing with nature. I haven’t been here for three months so we’re talking about a garden of a rather overgrown nature, but I look forward to digging right in. Weeding? Sign me up. Pruning? Good for me and the roses. Cleaning up the goop that fell out of the fig tree? Arruhgh. What a mess. We seem to have like the Exxon Valdeze of fig trees. It is making black and greasy goo all over my paving stones at that end of the garden. And, it is disgusting to attempt to un-pollute the area, but we are rolling up our sleeves and jumping in.

Now, I like a fig now and again. Ma questa non vale la pena – certainly the not at all worth the hassle this year. Figs were awful. Mostly due to excess rain washing over them day after day when they were supposed to be up sunning in the branches. This year they just got waterlogged, swelled up, split into three angry pieces and kurplop. Thank heavens we only have the one tree. Wonder if Mr. Fig Tree knows we have a new woodstove?

As usual with any good project, within no time at all we have used every tool we own doing the job but soon have a need for yet something else from the hardware store. Today, that something else is black plastic bags. Body bags for the fig goop and fig branches I’m whacking back wildly. Road trip? Hardware is the one thing Panicale has very little of. I bet if someone would open one in town, before you know it we’d have three, but right now we are hardware-challenged and this looks like as good an excuse as any to drop down to Castiglione del Lago and its famous Edil Feramente CANADA hardware store.

The storeowners are Italian, but lived in Canada for decades. When a project gets over my head often the vocabulary fails me in English, let alone Italian. How often would you need to say thingamajiggy in Italian? That is what I thought too, so I never buckled down and learned that word or a million other manly tool words. Drill bits. When would that come up in conversation? One of those scraper things that holds double-edged razor blades. What the heck DO you call that? Whatever you call whatever it is, when I have no earthly idea what I’m doing, I get lazy and treat myself to a bit of Canadian English. In times of stress, it is fun to have someone who speaks your language, plus this is a big, clean hardware store with darn near everything.

We’re off for simple things today so it doesn’t matter if the Canadians are on duty or not. They aren’t as it turns out. Ah, good. We got the nice guy with the big mustache for our clerk today. Bags for garden trimming? Biiigg ones? Strong? Sure, we got’em. How many kilos do you want? Kilos? That is like pounds of bags? So, THAT is what the problem has been. I have had a heck of a time finding bags. I’d ask in a grocery and they would say, Here, you can have this one. I’ll get another one. But then they wouldn’t sell me one. And I’d leave with the one bag, scratching me head and wondering. So, ok, I need two KILOS of plastic bags. And now we’ve got scrub brushes of three sizes to work on the fig poop on our garden walk and decide to ask if there is anything stronger than the dish soap we’ve been using? Has chemical research come up with anything that will clean fig off stone? And maybe, if we are lucky, accidently kill the fig tree in the process. And yes, yes it appears there is. And her comes a lovely, unmarked, gallon bottle of it. With a handle. And you’ll be wanting gloves with that, he says ominously. Yike. Careful what you wish for I guess. And he adds, I wouldn’t be opening this indoors either. What the heck is in that bottle? Ok, I’m buying it. But I’m not anxious to be using it.

THE FLYING EAR OF CORN COMES TO UMBRIA?

Paying up, I see the man next to me has a Dekalb Seed Company vest on. My parents from Iowa wouldn’t be surprised to see that in middle America but I am. Here. OK, I have to ask. No, no the wearer says. Regular brand. See it everywhere here. Especially around Perugia. Really? It’s a clothing line?

I looked Dekalb up on the web when I got back and this is not a fashion forward thing. The site was full of earnest boilerplate copy about Rootworm Soybean Variant, Conservation Tilage, Agricultural Scholarship and, personal favorite, The Monsanto Pledge. I can see the AG Chemistry Geeks with their short sleeve dress shirts and brown ties and hand over heart reciting that beauty. I couldn’t even figure out how to get a corny ball hat out of them and this guy IN ITALY has an actual vest. He was nice enough, but he was clearly surprised – that I was surprised. It was just too banal to him. He couldn’t imagine my interest. Ma, si! Seed corn! Iowa. Italy?

If I live to be a hundred . . . You know, I bet, there’s some wild-eyed marketing/branding guys involved in this somewhere.