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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.

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

Even when we are not in Italy, we sort of are in Italy

We may have gone around the bend. Saturday was emails to and from Italy in the morning. Some in Italian some in English all on subject of Italy. About noon I signed off on all that BECAUSE We had a party to get ready for. Late afternoon on the beach in Ocean Park, by Saco, Maine. Both couples were people we have met through the wonder of the internet and one had a house in Italy and the other was considering a trip to look at same. To get ready for this, we were planning to spend the afternoon deep in anti-pasti preparation. Because this would be an all about Italy conversation, Italian and food and drink too. Just your traditional Fourth of July party.

So, about one pm the phone rings and a sweet voice says “Hi! It’s Lydia, and we are on Main Street a couple blocks from your house. We will be right over. Lets do lunch.” Yeah! Its Lydia. Stew running upstairs yelling “Lydia!” meets Midge, coming down the stairs yelling “Lydia?” Then we both got nose to nose and said “I thought knew“? Well, heck. We started throwing junk in far closets and revealing couches and tables we had not seen since before we packed our daughter off for camp at the last minute in the middle of the living room. And then the mystery Lydia called again, lost, whew. Momentary reprieve from governor and chance for all the pieces to fall into place. Oh, LYDIA. We are so dense, like we know a lot of Lydias. What WERE we thinking?

We know her as well as we know anyone. She is American and from nearby Connecticut. But we have only ever known her IN ITALY. Contextual issue. Even our fun drop-in guests are Italian related. Some times having houses in two countries is like having two separate lives. This was a fun case of the two blurring over and surprising us.

PETER POURS PARTIALLY POPSCICLED PROSECCOS AT THE PARSONS’ PARTY

Later, after that fun lunch with “Italian” friends, we were at the party on the beach and all those great minds were thinking alike and the world was in total harmony, because everyone brought bottles of the fun fizzy Prosecco. Forget champagne. Forget Spumanti. The real deal is Prosecco. Friends in the Veneto introduced us to it years ago and immediately got our full and undivided attention. Believe me, they don’t save it for special occasions up there. They plunk pitchers of it on the table like it was beer. Right thinking people. Prosecco is not as sharp and dry as Champagne, not as dessert sweet as Spumanti, but like baby bear’s porridge, juuust right. Somehow sitting on the beach watching the colors of the blue in the sky and listening to the waves crashing on the beach made all the bottles of bubbly go away. All, save one.

Peter turned to Joan and said “You think that last bottle I put in the freezer would be any good by now?“ She jumped up and said “Peter! That was two hours ago, it will be a Proseccoscicle!“ He ran up into the house to begin damage control. The rest of us slowly and regrettably dragged our rainbow colored canvas chairs off the beach just ahead of the incoming tide and tossed them into the tall grass at the edge of lawn. When we got into the long screened porch, Peter was gingerly holding the last bottle of Prosecco, or, should I say, block of Prosecco. And looking at it through squinty eyes with great scientific interest. Yep. Frozen. But the cork hadn’t blown. Whew. Peter made it his mission to keep that bottle near him for the next hour.

Ready yet? Nope? How about Now? Eventually, holding it up to the light we could see the bottle shaped baby ice berg melting a bit and producing some strange shaped chunks burbling left and blurbing right as the bottle was tipped back and forth. Finally, he of multiple MIT degrees, said that in his professional opinion, it was high time to try it. And you know that was the bestcoldestmostawesome bottle of Prosecco any of us had ever tasted. Now kids. Don’t try this at home. But we did live to tell the tale. All Is well that ends well and that night of Italy on a beach in Maine ended very well indeed.

Only six more days until Italy!

Up in the Umbrian Sky, high above Panicale. With AIRiccardo

Counting the days till our July trip to Umbria and then daughter Wiley’s graduation from college in London. We are hoping she will be able to spend some more time studying in Italy now. Her Italian got crazy good with a few weeks of lessons in September and I think she wants to keep that momentum going.

One of our foreign correspondents, Harry from Steamboat Springs, saw these fine photos at our friend Riccardo Ripanti’s house and alerted us to them. Riccardo is a retired pilot and is back up in the air these days. He took these pictures and was nice enough to say we could share them with everyone. Enjoy! Thank you Riccardo!

These photos can be viewed larger size.
Click on the photos to see them enlarged.

By the way, speaking of Italy and England, did anyone see the USA Today with the chart showing where in Europe international travelers really want to go? They asked people who planned to travel within the next two years for their top destinations and what do you know? Italy was the very top with 25 percent. We knew that one! Followed by England at 20 percent and then it faded off to France at 18, Germany and Ireland at 16.

But. On the other hand: There was another chart. They love feeding us the tiny bits of information we can handle in charts at USA Today, don’t they? Notice I am not quoting any learned documents. Limited attention span? The other chart showed “Most useful second languages in business”. Spanish (where was Spain on the first chart, huh?) was 61 percent. That percentage of respondents thought Spanish was a most useful second language for business. Then 16 percent felt like Chinese. Way down in the doesn’t matter category was Italian at a positively recreational 2 percent. It might wreck everything if the reality of too much annoying commerce got in the way of all our holiday fun!

25 PERCENT SOLUTION. YET ANOTHER SUMMER GETAWAY STATISTIC

I had barely put down the USA Today when Midge showed me the latest Travel+Leisure Readers’ Poll. Visitors to their web site were asked to pick a favorite summer vacation. 32% said a kind of generic “Quiet beach anywhere” duh. But next was a more focused “Biking through Tuscany” at 25 percent. Italy always makes the charts.

Until next time,

See you in Italy,

Stew

WHEN IN ROME . . . .

Were they in the right place at the right time or what? New pope’s first public mass and Sean and Dayna were right there. Sean says his first clue was all the guys in red dresses on the balconies of St Pete’s.

ROME, Italy— Were they in the right place at the right time or what? New pope’s first public mass and Sean and Dayna were right there. Sean says his first clue was all the guys in red dresses on the balconies of St Pete’s. The next thing they knew, here came the new popemobile and bob’s your uncle there was Benedictine numero 16 — an arm’s length away. Actually we call him Benedict 16 and Italians say Benedetto 16. Regardless of how you say it Sean, ever the consumate professional, was right there with a camera in hand, taking full advantage of the lucky turn of events. That was Sean and Dayna and Harry watching the sun go down in our garden, it was at the top of a blog page a couple days ago (and now on our home page ) at our annual foreign correspondent’s picnic. And now here’s a note from See You In Italy’s Chief Vatican Correspondent and continental man about town: Sean Riley.

Stew, attached are my pictures of the Pope. It was way cool. We took over 200 pictures on our wonderful trip. You will be happy (or Sad) to know that Dayna started pouting after leaving your little town. Yikes! I had told Sean that, like him, we discovered Panicale on a 25th anniversary trip and my wife had pouted until we bought a house there. ’spensive trip. But, Yes Dear, worth every penny.

You would be so proud of me. Being the non-creative guy in the family and company. I took tons of pictures of little alley ways with hanging flowers and little old lady’s walking through. I thought about doing posters and calling them “Alleys of Italy”

Sean & DaynaWe had such a wonderful time. I still think the dining highlight of the trip was with Andrea (Masolino’s Restaurant, Panicale), especially the second time we went. The food was so delicious. But I asked if I could say hi to Mama Bruna. The whole family came out and we took pictures. I know this might sound silly, but that was one of the experiences I was looking for. It was a definite highlight!

Thanks so much for your hospitality. It made it so much more meaningful.

We also loved our stay at. the Villa Lemura We loved the place and the people!

Thanks again Stew!

Having fun as fast as they can. The Lambart Report.

So…..about 5 hours after you departed, the first roses started to burst out, and today multi more….more pics tomorrow…bellisimo day yesterday and today….

UMBRIA, TUSCANY AND BEYOND — Stew, remember: MAY 1st. Be in Italy. MAY 1st. Plan trip so we are arriving in Italy May first. Not leaving. Arriving. May in Italy is twice as nice as April. And greener than summer. Wildflowers underfoot, trees abloom, more dependable weather. April showers are a thing of the past by May first. And the Italians are coming out of hibernation and celebrating spring. You know what that means: party time. Look at all the fun things Foreign Correspondent Harry found to do in central Italy in May.

Harry’s email’s really capture the mood and feel of spring in Umbria! Here are excepts from some of them that have come in during the last couple days since I’ve been back. Yes, we are living strictly vicariously now!
——————————
Hey Stew,

So…..about 5 hours after you departed, the first roses started to burst out, and today multi more….more pics tomorrow…bellisimo day yesterday and today…. Cortona last night, great meal, met Pia and chatted, start of Feste, with Drums and Pia and Nando, and fun ceremony from different neighborhoods….Today cappuccino at Aldos, where we talked with Richard and Monica, then Jane, then introduced ourselves to music professor across from you, and had a wonderful chat with her…then lunch on Isola Maggiore, Elida stopped by and we made plans to car pool to Spannoccia tomorrow, then prosecco and briscola with riccardo and Jeff versus mariolino and Kim at Riccardos, and dinner at Montale vegetarian restaurant!….and now Kim is off to Perugia disco with Simone ….wheh!, having fun as fast as we can….so much fun here…

Ciao-

We’re back from Spannocchia….wonderful time, bella day (75 sunny and hot). Midge went to Siena with us for a couple of hours after italian folk music, dancing, pranzo and tour at Spannocchia (with Elida and Guenther), Big May day celebration in center of piazza which we watched while drinking prosecco…. all 17 contradas were there with a drummer and flags each…then Midge had to go back to Spannocchia for meetings tonight.

I think that Andrea and Steffi understood why I was having them pose!….plus great reason for three Dolce, machiato caldo, and desert wine!!! you might email Andrea your blog site, so he can actually see if they come out.

Off to Bologna and Parma tomorrow after Aldos (Kim and Simone off to Assisi tonight apparently….oh, well why should a father worry….

ciao- Harry

Jeff has already been victorious in separate Briscola matches with Riccardo and Adriano this week.

Kim is at a friends house in Parma, as we dropped her off after having un fantastico cena with her friend Alberto at a true locals restaurant in Parma last night….an entire secondi of Parmagano Rigiano for me, with the vecchio balsamico (@$250 per bottle), plus parma procciutto, etc. Parma was beautiful and now we’re here Bologna today, and loving this city also.

Back to Panicale late tomorrow evening.

We got back late tonight (11pm), had some authentic fresh tortolloni that Alison bought back from Bologna, and heading to bed adesso. Kim spent two days with her good italian friend, Alberto, and his family speaking italian, so she’s getting up to speed for last days and last dances

Off on tour of Lake Trasimino and points west and north!….quick email with 3 of the 50 photos I have taken so far.

ciao- Harry

Just back from Masolinos….after cena for Feste della Mamma!…always wonderful. Scot and Karen LOVED your casa margarita!…put them on train to Roma this afternoon after swinging by La Foce for photos of road, and quick peak at villa…after morning at Aldos. Then Jeff Alison and I off to see Crossbow feste in Cortona, which was multi fun. Toured Hanibal battle area yesterday, as Scot is history buff, then to Cortona yesterday too, for shopping, etc….did Chiusi Eutruscan museo on Friday afternoon-very neat indeed.
Will be taking it slower tomorrow.
Some more rose pictures for you….as the White roses have started to Bloom!

ciao- Harry