It's good to be home. The house smells a bit musty because of the soggy basement. A reminder that it's back to the to-do list. Sort of. For now, and hopefully from now on, a less urgent and complicated to-do list.
Turns out Harry did meet me at the airport with the kids. I'm so grateful for that! I saw able to snuggle with them in the back seat and tuck them all in to bed. Gosh, I just love those kids so much.
Getting back into the country was no easy feat. First, we were a bit delayed because the airline wanted to hold the plane for 2 late arrivals. WHAT?!?! That was ME a couple hours ago--and I was just 2 minutes after they completed boarding, not 2 minutes before the plane was supposed to take off! It was a deep breathing, all-is-okay moment. We ended up leaving without them. I feel their pain.
I had an empty seat next to me and then there sat a huge Elvis-looking dude from Wyoming who wore his sunglasses the whole ride and drank the flight attendants out of beer and wine. I tried to stay comfortable but my body is just sore. When we landed I needed to pick up my luggage at the terminal, then go through passport verification, then recheck my bags, then go through customs, then take the tram to the main baggage claim area and pick up my bags again. Well, my big overpacked suitcase full of olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and my new leather purse never made it from Paris. That agent in Paris just did not have much pull, I don't think. I'm hoping it will show up today with everything intact.
I'm already recognizing after a week with no TV that it is just toxic. Not that this wasn't something I didn't already know, but I'm reminded of how the news, the commercials, the noise pollutes my mind. I'm so glad it was "Green Screen" week at school this week so my kids haven't been watching it either. Maybe we can hold on to this trend.
I'm so glad I did this blog. It's going to serve as a timeless memory for me (my own memory doesn't always serve me well since having kids). I can't wait to upload and label all my pictures. I'll get to that later today, but right now I need a nice hot shower...and to finish my second tall mug of plain 'ol coffee.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
9/23 2:05pm It is me, after all
I should be on my way back to Atlanta right now. I missed my flight in Paris. I’ve been at the airport for 4 hours, but I missed my flight. I’ll take the credit for waiting too long to get to the gate. I was blogging, then got some lunch and realized the kids were getting ready to get on the bus so I called home. I gathered up my things and as I passed customer service on my way to the gate I noticed my name on the monitor informing me I needed to see a customer service agent. So I waited in line for the next available agent--didn’t take too long. I gave him my passport and he tried to figure out why my name was up there. I joked it was because he was going to bump me up to first class. Laughs, no one else in line behind me, conversation about window or aisle seats leads to discussion of destiny and free will, leads to Michael Jackson and crazy trips to Vegas--oh shit! Your flight just closed boarding! Why this guy didn’t have that flashing on his screen the whole time, I don’t know. We ran to the gate and he begged and pleaded (even though it was all in French I could tell this is what he was doing) but because of customs and the plane not boarding where it normally would, blah blah…..
My agent friend booked me on the 4:00 with 2 empty seats next to me (for now). Going back to destiny, maybe for some reason I was not supposed to be on that flight--maybe I’m supposed to be on this one. It’s only a couple hours more. But for a week all my decisions and actions have affected no one but me. I don’t want to hear the disappointment in Harry’s voice. He has already given so much so I could go on this trip. And he doesn’t understand the flighty part of me that allows this kind of shit to happen. I don’t understand it--but it’s part of my make up so I accept it. It’s part of the yin yang balance I think. And the MJ-loving agent guy does feel bad. He came to check on me. I scared him with my tears I think.
I’m not going to get to see my kids tonight. That’s killing me. I miss them and was so looking forward to seeing them in that car tonight. Harry has to explain to them that they’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning to see me. My actions and choices affect a lot of people again.
My agent friend booked me on the 4:00 with 2 empty seats next to me (for now). Going back to destiny, maybe for some reason I was not supposed to be on that flight--maybe I’m supposed to be on this one. It’s only a couple hours more. But for a week all my decisions and actions have affected no one but me. I don’t want to hear the disappointment in Harry’s voice. He has already given so much so I could go on this trip. And he doesn’t understand the flighty part of me that allows this kind of shit to happen. I don’t understand it--but it’s part of my make up so I accept it. It’s part of the yin yang balance I think. And the MJ-loving agent guy does feel bad. He came to check on me. I scared him with my tears I think.
I’m not going to get to see my kids tonight. That’s killing me. I miss them and was so looking forward to seeing them in that car tonight. Harry has to explain to them that they’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning to see me. My actions and choices affect a lot of people again.
9/23 Traveling home
About to land in Paris, then a few hours before my long flight home. The general recap, all though there will be several, is that I didn’t meditate at all or even reflect as much as I had expected to. That is not an admission of failure, it’s an example of why expectations aren’t useful. It was a wonderfully indulgent trip. Not necessarily in the sense of giving in to all my desires (although I ate more gelato and cheese than I ever normally would in a week). It was all about me and what I wanted on a moment-to-moment basis. Life as a Mommy doesn’t permit me to live that way very often. Fortunately for me, I love being a Mommy so that action in itself is a treat.
My trip was a feast for the senses. Taste: obviously. The food was simpler and more spontaneous. Italians approach food differently. There was the rugged leather-wearing bike rider who popped in the hole-in-the-wall bar for a Panini and a glass of house Chianti that he consumed on the sidewalk in about 3 minutes before he was off again. Not rushing…just feeding himself. Then there is the middle-aged restaurant owner who encouraged me to order and savor each course--appertivo, prima, Segundo, and dessert. I declined because it was just too much food for me but he took pride in his ingredients, in his culture, and in seeing his guests indulging in his recipes. Besides loading up on fresh veggies for the next week, because I missed them and to help with my digestion, I wonder how this experience will alter my eating habits, if at all. I’ll still enjoy a big mug of coffee or two. And I brought home some olive oil, yummy balsamic vinegar, and sea salt with truffles to experiment with. I can’t wait for that.
Sight: the sight of the buildings made of stone centuries ago really makes me feel like I am in a different place. The permanence of it. And the detail and care put in to every structure--not just the Duomos and publicly commissioned work. (more to come on senses…)
My trip was a feast for the senses. Taste: obviously. The food was simpler and more spontaneous. Italians approach food differently. There was the rugged leather-wearing bike rider who popped in the hole-in-the-wall bar for a Panini and a glass of house Chianti that he consumed on the sidewalk in about 3 minutes before he was off again. Not rushing…just feeding himself. Then there is the middle-aged restaurant owner who encouraged me to order and savor each course--appertivo, prima, Segundo, and dessert. I declined because it was just too much food for me but he took pride in his ingredients, in his culture, and in seeing his guests indulging in his recipes. Besides loading up on fresh veggies for the next week, because I missed them and to help with my digestion, I wonder how this experience will alter my eating habits, if at all. I’ll still enjoy a big mug of coffee or two. And I brought home some olive oil, yummy balsamic vinegar, and sea salt with truffles to experiment with. I can’t wait for that.
Sight: the sight of the buildings made of stone centuries ago really makes me feel like I am in a different place. The permanence of it. And the detail and care put in to every structure--not just the Duomos and publicly commissioned work. (more to come on senses…)
9/22 Sunset surprise
I was slowly savoring my last moments on the Piazza del Duomo. Sun was going down and lighting was so cool I was pretending to be a photographer. Really, I was just soaking this place in.
Suddenly I heard a beat in my chest. Made me jump. Then again. I turned around to where the sound was coming from and I saw a drum troupe all dressed in red--maybe 30 people large--called Timbre according to their shirts. All at once that baseline, that rhythmic beating of the drums were just penetrating. It was so powerful. This was my farewell.
Obviously they grew quite a crowd--30 drummers and other percussionists echoing amidst these amazing historical landmarks. These guys and girls (lots of girls!) were so high energy and had a whole routine with a leader up in front getting us all pumped up! I lost it. I started crying. It was so emotional for me--it literally rocked me to my core--I was moved to tears.
For all the separation I’ve noticed in this city the past 3 days, in this moment everyone was one. Everyone was smiling! We were all taking pictures and dancing and following this troupe as far as they were going to take us., gathering up more folks along the way. People were looking out their windows, coming out on their balconies, people working in the shops along the way were coming out to experience this spontaneous parade. It was the beautiful, unifying power of music. It was so magical and so fun! I took the scarf off from around my neck and was waving it in the air, like a good old fashioned New Orleans parade!
They led us through the Piazza del Duomo, the Piazza Republica, and to the Piazza de San Lorenzo where they finally ended in front of the statue of Zeus. Unbelievable. One of the most memorable moments in Italy for me--and I kinda feel like I was designed to be there. The timing was just too perfect.
Suddenly I heard a beat in my chest. Made me jump. Then again. I turned around to where the sound was coming from and I saw a drum troupe all dressed in red--maybe 30 people large--called Timbre according to their shirts. All at once that baseline, that rhythmic beating of the drums were just penetrating. It was so powerful. This was my farewell.
Obviously they grew quite a crowd--30 drummers and other percussionists echoing amidst these amazing historical landmarks. These guys and girls (lots of girls!) were so high energy and had a whole routine with a leader up in front getting us all pumped up! I lost it. I started crying. It was so emotional for me--it literally rocked me to my core--I was moved to tears.
For all the separation I’ve noticed in this city the past 3 days, in this moment everyone was one. Everyone was smiling! We were all taking pictures and dancing and following this troupe as far as they were going to take us., gathering up more folks along the way. People were looking out their windows, coming out on their balconies, people working in the shops along the way were coming out to experience this spontaneous parade. It was the beautiful, unifying power of music. It was so magical and so fun! I took the scarf off from around my neck and was waving it in the air, like a good old fashioned New Orleans parade!
They led us through the Piazza del Duomo, the Piazza Republica, and to the Piazza de San Lorenzo where they finally ended in front of the statue of Zeus. Unbelievable. One of the most memorable moments in Italy for me--and I kinda feel like I was designed to be there. The timing was just too perfect.
9/22 Random daily observations
~I wish people smiled more here.
~I’ve seen a handful of men and boys in red pants. Red pants.
~Chiropractors would make a killing in Italy.
~I’ve learned to spot an American from a block away. Can they spot me?
~Stonehill College t-shirt with a shamrock. That’s where my Dad graduated from college.
~I’ve seen 3 Yankees hats today--2 on locals. Sorry Yanks fans--I think it just means New York to many people.
~It’s easy to spot a blonde foreign student jogging in Florence. Not so easy to spot an Italian foreign student jogging in NYC. Hmm.
~I’ve seen a handful of men and boys in red pants. Red pants.
~Chiropractors would make a killing in Italy.
~I’ve learned to spot an American from a block away. Can they spot me?
~Stonehill College t-shirt with a shamrock. That’s where my Dad graduated from college.
~I’ve seen 3 Yankees hats today--2 on locals. Sorry Yanks fans--I think it just means New York to many people.
~It’s easy to spot a blonde foreign student jogging in Florence. Not so easy to spot an Italian foreign student jogging in NYC. Hmm.
9/22 Market Day
I made a guy mad for not buying a 15 euro piece of crap soccer shirt for my son. And I wanted this great vintage skirt but wasn’t willing to pay 25 euro for it. I did have a great procuitto and mozzarella Panini with Prosecco experience in the Central Market where the food vendors are (same place I toured the morning before). It was called Porks (I think you can find it at www.porks.it) where they had a roasted pig up on the counter, apple in mouth and all, that they owner was carving from. He was working with his grumpy wife, son, and what seemed to be a daughter. They were yelling and screaming at each other, Mom broke a glass and all hands went up in the air…funny. I love the market.
9/22 Last dinner in Florence
Ristorante Giannino in San Lorenzo
Sausages with white beans and house rosso. It’s good. Great people watching…soaking in my last evening. It’s a pretty night. The pecorino with truffle honey looked too good to pass up so I told the waitress that my husband was back at the hotel room and I had to bring it back for him. Even if Harry were back in the room, he’d never in a million years eat honey with truffles. So she was very kind to package it to go for me to enjoy while I pack my bag.
This morning I woke up at 3am on the nose remembering that I didn’t call or Skype the family that evening. Since it was only 9:00am Atlanta time I texted Harry to apologize. He informed me that they had cancelled school the next day due to rain. Apparently it has been raining for 6 days up there and everything is flooded.
So I awoke again at 8:00am, quick got dressed in comfy clothes, threw on a hat and headed out for the Cascine Market. It was about a 20 minute walk along the Arno River, which was nice. Lots of people moving in. As in, movers and furniture, etc. It was neat to see the furniture of people who actually live right there in Florence. Lots of antiques.
I got to walk past the American Consulate and got yelled at for taking a picture. Ooops--dumb tourist.
So the Cascine Market was in fact full of locals and it was very colorful. However, it was very much like a flea market or dollar store (euro store?). And I don’t want to sound like a snob, but I don’t feel right about buying something at an Italian market from someone other than an Italian. Then I heard one old lady tell another old lady in Italian something about Indonesia--as in, “made in” and I realized that although I was in the right place to rub elbows with the locals, I wasn’t finding my boots here. I did buy a backpack for 5 euro to carry back my new purchases since my suitcase was ridiculously full, then I boogied back to the Central Market to try my luck there.
Once I got back to the center of Florence I found gifts for the kids and started my hunt. Discovered my body is just not built for short leather jackets. Boots, you ask? Tried on several but nothing was quite right. I did, however, find a great handbag. It was the first to catch my eye and I was able to find it after a couple more hours of shopping. Yae!
Sausages with white beans and house rosso. It’s good. Great people watching…soaking in my last evening. It’s a pretty night. The pecorino with truffle honey looked too good to pass up so I told the waitress that my husband was back at the hotel room and I had to bring it back for him. Even if Harry were back in the room, he’d never in a million years eat honey with truffles. So she was very kind to package it to go for me to enjoy while I pack my bag.
This morning I woke up at 3am on the nose remembering that I didn’t call or Skype the family that evening. Since it was only 9:00am Atlanta time I texted Harry to apologize. He informed me that they had cancelled school the next day due to rain. Apparently it has been raining for 6 days up there and everything is flooded.
So I awoke again at 8:00am, quick got dressed in comfy clothes, threw on a hat and headed out for the Cascine Market. It was about a 20 minute walk along the Arno River, which was nice. Lots of people moving in. As in, movers and furniture, etc. It was neat to see the furniture of people who actually live right there in Florence. Lots of antiques.
I got to walk past the American Consulate and got yelled at for taking a picture. Ooops--dumb tourist.
So the Cascine Market was in fact full of locals and it was very colorful. However, it was very much like a flea market or dollar store (euro store?). And I don’t want to sound like a snob, but I don’t feel right about buying something at an Italian market from someone other than an Italian. Then I heard one old lady tell another old lady in Italian something about Indonesia--as in, “made in” and I realized that although I was in the right place to rub elbows with the locals, I wasn’t finding my boots here. I did buy a backpack for 5 euro to carry back my new purchases since my suitcase was ridiculously full, then I boogied back to the Central Market to try my luck there.
Once I got back to the center of Florence I found gifts for the kids and started my hunt. Discovered my body is just not built for short leather jackets. Boots, you ask? Tried on several but nothing was quite right. I did, however, find a great handbag. It was the first to catch my eye and I was able to find it after a couple more hours of shopping. Yae!
9/22 post Accademia Florence
Now fashion. Scrunchy boots, for sure. I didn’t find myself a pair (I wish I had bought that pair in Montalcino--such a deal) but that’s okay. I’ll look for a sale at home. Leggings and opaque tights. Big shirts or dresses with low slung belts (ala the ‘80s but better). All the same things my sister told me about what was happening in Ireland. And everyone has really cool glasses. Even old ladies.
9/22 Accademia Tour
I met two nice girls from California in line. They had been to Paris, South of France, Cinque Terre, and now Florence. Maybe Madrid in there somewhere? I am so encouraging my kids to travel! And I think they all need to be learning Spanish now--it makes translating all these other languages so much easier.
The Accademia really is all about David so I’ll get right to him. Ya, he’s gorgeous. There was one other bust that really caught my eye at the Uffizi--just very handsome. If you’ve seen David then you know and if you haven’t--it is not overrated. And it seemed like everyone there agreed. Proportions, intensity, details, angles, pure size. I think he makes everyone swoon a bit.
So this is the thing I’m taking away from Italy as far as the human form goes. We are all built of bones and muscles and skin, amongst other things obviously. But not one of us is the same. I was trying to explain the word unique to my kindergartener’s classmates the other day--it’s hard for them to articulate what makes them different. And as grown-ups I think sometimes we work too hard to stifle what sets us apart, in an effort to keep up with the Jones’ or to measure up by someone else’s standards. None of us are the same. The leg bone’s connected to the hip bone and all that, but the women I’ve seen in this Renaissance art are natural and beautiful and sensual--and they have soft bodies. They are rounded, yet strong. Feminine.
It makes me feel good about myself. It’s allowing me to be more gentle with myself, which is a big take-away in general from this journey. As I often say (originally said by Forrest Gump, of course) “I am as God made me.”
The Accademia really is all about David so I’ll get right to him. Ya, he’s gorgeous. There was one other bust that really caught my eye at the Uffizi--just very handsome. If you’ve seen David then you know and if you haven’t--it is not overrated. And it seemed like everyone there agreed. Proportions, intensity, details, angles, pure size. I think he makes everyone swoon a bit.
So this is the thing I’m taking away from Italy as far as the human form goes. We are all built of bones and muscles and skin, amongst other things obviously. But not one of us is the same. I was trying to explain the word unique to my kindergartener’s classmates the other day--it’s hard for them to articulate what makes them different. And as grown-ups I think sometimes we work too hard to stifle what sets us apart, in an effort to keep up with the Jones’ or to measure up by someone else’s standards. None of us are the same. The leg bone’s connected to the hip bone and all that, but the women I’ve seen in this Renaissance art are natural and beautiful and sensual--and they have soft bodies. They are rounded, yet strong. Feminine.
It makes me feel good about myself. It’s allowing me to be more gentle with myself, which is a big take-away in general from this journey. As I often say (originally said by Forrest Gump, of course) “I am as God made me.”
9/21 9:35pm
As I usually do, I turned right out of my hotel. I should turn left. Right takes me to the Duomo and I know where I am from there. I wandered a bit while the garbage collectors and street sprayers cleaned up after the day’s sight seeing. What a mess! Why do people think it’s okay to throw their trash on the ground?! So I decided I was going to go to the next block and if I didn’t like it I’d just turn around and go back. Well, I didn’t like it. Too quiet and dark. I have landed in a little square, not sure which one, at Trattoria ZaZa (Bex--I thought of you when I saw it for some reason). Quite buzzing, cool ambiance. Stone walls, little nooks and enclaves and statuary. Cool old gothic chandeliers, tented outdoor terrace area with colored lights. Lots of buzz--not the romantic spot. Although I see a lot of couples holding hands in Italy and I LOVE it. I need to do more of that at home.
Sitting, unfortunately, next to a large party of Asians who, although pleasantly lively, keep going in to fits of clapping and loud laughing.
They seem to have a large seafood selection here but I have gone with a green salad -- ahhh…fresh veggies-- and eggplant parmesan. One of my favorites at home. We’ll see.
I’m enjoying the house ZaZa (ha!) Rosso di Toscana--which just means it’s younger wine than a Brunello. I learned that. Definitely not as “tongue-drying” as the Brunellos I had a little south of here. Still daydreaming of Montalcino.
I learned today that they do not put salt in the bread in Tuscany. Rebelling against the salt providers of back in the day. Just means more olive oil for me! Oh no. Guy selling roses. This is one of THOSE places. I will not judge. I will not judge.
What the hell is the picture on this placemat? A little baby chef getting his ass stung by a mosquito! I took it. They’ll just have to clean up after me. This place doesn’t seem full of tourists, but because no one is speaking English doesn’t mean I’m the only out-of-towner. The guy who seated me was a very handsome dark skinned black man…not Italian--originally at least.
The guy walked right by me with his flowers. :(
Ahhh…huge green salad with carrots, cucumbers, and tomato…really good. Just a drizzle of balsamic. And I got busted stealing the paper placemat.
Okay, totally weird and random stuff tucked all around--totally kitschy. But the eggplant is melting in my mouth. I need another glass of ZaZa please!
The rose guy is gone now but there’s an accordion serenader…playing When the Saints Go Marching In. The Asians are singing something totally different in unison, as if that songs always prompts them to sing this other song.
All the desserts say “Special ZaZa___.” I feel like I’m at TuTu Tango. Maybe I am!
So this is the thing. Cities internationally are cities. Different history, different art, etc. but full of tourists and geared toward them. Not rocket science, I know. This is about what I’m learning about myself…and I like the local experience. I’m definitely getting up tomorrow and walking to the Cascine market. Let’s hope I find what I seek (and I’m not talking about boots -- well, maybe I am.).
Sitting, unfortunately, next to a large party of Asians who, although pleasantly lively, keep going in to fits of clapping and loud laughing.
They seem to have a large seafood selection here but I have gone with a green salad -- ahhh…fresh veggies-- and eggplant parmesan. One of my favorites at home. We’ll see.
I’m enjoying the house ZaZa (ha!) Rosso di Toscana--which just means it’s younger wine than a Brunello. I learned that. Definitely not as “tongue-drying” as the Brunellos I had a little south of here. Still daydreaming of Montalcino.
I learned today that they do not put salt in the bread in Tuscany. Rebelling against the salt providers of back in the day. Just means more olive oil for me! Oh no. Guy selling roses. This is one of THOSE places. I will not judge. I will not judge.
What the hell is the picture on this placemat? A little baby chef getting his ass stung by a mosquito! I took it. They’ll just have to clean up after me. This place doesn’t seem full of tourists, but because no one is speaking English doesn’t mean I’m the only out-of-towner. The guy who seated me was a very handsome dark skinned black man…not Italian--originally at least.
The guy walked right by me with his flowers. :(
Ahhh…huge green salad with carrots, cucumbers, and tomato…really good. Just a drizzle of balsamic. And I got busted stealing the paper placemat.
Okay, totally weird and random stuff tucked all around--totally kitschy. But the eggplant is melting in my mouth. I need another glass of ZaZa please!
The rose guy is gone now but there’s an accordion serenader…playing When the Saints Go Marching In. The Asians are singing something totally different in unison, as if that songs always prompts them to sing this other song.
All the desserts say “Special ZaZa___.” I feel like I’m at TuTu Tango. Maybe I am!
So this is the thing. Cities internationally are cities. Different history, different art, etc. but full of tourists and geared toward them. Not rocket science, I know. This is about what I’m learning about myself…and I like the local experience. I’m definitely getting up tomorrow and walking to the Cascine market. Let’s hope I find what I seek (and I’m not talking about boots -- well, maybe I am.).
9/21 afternoon
Did the Renaissance Walk from Rick Steve’s book. I’m now having a cappuccino at a little place on the other side of the Arno River. I crossed the Ponte Vecchio to get here which is the only bridge in Florence that survived WWII. It is lined with fine jewelry shops. You know, it’s pretty, but if you’re not in the market for it then it’s just not that appealing. Now, leather? Bring it on. Think I’ll walk to the far away market tomorrow and see what I find.
9/21 Notes from Taste Florence food and wine tour
Conti Market in Central Market: make their own olive oil.
Olive Oil notes: first pressed doesn’t mean anything, cold pressed doesn’t mean much either
Tuscan olive oil is the purest and has a very long shelf life, but do not cook with it. Has less fatty acids so will smoke, plus it’s too expensive!
The peppery taste in olive oil comes from the younger oils that you’re eating sooner after harvest. Harvest is in the late fall so you’re more likely to get a peppery olive oil (which I like) in the winter months. It mellows over time so will get milder in the summer and early fall.
Traditional balsamic vinegar producers are required to use a blend of wood in their barrels and are made from only cooked grape musks. Non-traditional balsamic combines red wine vinegar with the cooked grape musks. Much less expensive. Traditional can almost be used as an aperitif or palette cleanser after a meal.
The real balsamic from Modena come in a small bulbous bottle in it’s own box. It is marked DOP to protect it’s origins.
Tasted: pecorino with Chianti jelly (yum--bought some of the jelly)
Parmesan with onion marmalade
Brusceta al Tartuffe (with truffles)
The difference between a crostini and a bruscetta is a crostini has a spreadable topping and a bruscetta has a chopped topping.
Visited a butcher in the Central Market who wanted to make sure our guide translated their sign for us: “eating boiled meats is good for your sex life.” Funny old guys!
The next butcher sold every part of the cow, and asked our guide, “You like 1 kilo penis?” He then explained to her that they used to put a weight in a cow penis to stretch it out and turn it in to a whip for the horses. Okay, ew. Very authentic market---very cool.
Gelato tasting: they have sorbets which are fruit and ice, gelato which is the flavor ingredient (pistachio, chocolate, coffee, etc.) and milk, and they have creams which I think she said had a higher level of milk fat? I can’t remember all the details of the gelato except they were GOOD and I tasted a ton!
Wine tasting:
In a cool wine shop where the owner is very creative and turns old barrels in to chairs and uses wine crates to make tables and doors. The wine generally was not overly impressive so I didn’t write them down.
Very cool 4 hour tour--totally worth it.
Olive Oil notes: first pressed doesn’t mean anything, cold pressed doesn’t mean much either
Tuscan olive oil is the purest and has a very long shelf life, but do not cook with it. Has less fatty acids so will smoke, plus it’s too expensive!
The peppery taste in olive oil comes from the younger oils that you’re eating sooner after harvest. Harvest is in the late fall so you’re more likely to get a peppery olive oil (which I like) in the winter months. It mellows over time so will get milder in the summer and early fall.
Traditional balsamic vinegar producers are required to use a blend of wood in their barrels and are made from only cooked grape musks. Non-traditional balsamic combines red wine vinegar with the cooked grape musks. Much less expensive. Traditional can almost be used as an aperitif or palette cleanser after a meal.
The real balsamic from Modena come in a small bulbous bottle in it’s own box. It is marked DOP to protect it’s origins.
Tasted: pecorino with Chianti jelly (yum--bought some of the jelly)
Parmesan with onion marmalade
Brusceta al Tartuffe (with truffles)
The difference between a crostini and a bruscetta is a crostini has a spreadable topping and a bruscetta has a chopped topping.
Visited a butcher in the Central Market who wanted to make sure our guide translated their sign for us: “eating boiled meats is good for your sex life.” Funny old guys!
The next butcher sold every part of the cow, and asked our guide, “You like 1 kilo penis?” He then explained to her that they used to put a weight in a cow penis to stretch it out and turn it in to a whip for the horses. Okay, ew. Very authentic market---very cool.
Gelato tasting: they have sorbets which are fruit and ice, gelato which is the flavor ingredient (pistachio, chocolate, coffee, etc.) and milk, and they have creams which I think she said had a higher level of milk fat? I can’t remember all the details of the gelato except they were GOOD and I tasted a ton!
Wine tasting:
In a cool wine shop where the owner is very creative and turns old barrels in to chairs and uses wine crates to make tables and doors. The wine generally was not overly impressive so I didn’t write them down.
Very cool 4 hour tour--totally worth it.
Chairs
Two of my inns have had these really cool contemporary clear plastic chairs. The ones in this room have a little bit of an amber hue to them. I could so see these going with a more traditional wooden table--very cool.
They’re Louis Ghost Design by Starck by Kartell
They’re Louis Ghost Design by Starck by Kartell
9/20 Back in the room
Soundtrack to my first evening in the city:
Drifting (String Cheese Incident)
What I Got (Eric Lindell)
I Walk the Line (Johnny Cash)
So Simple (Alicia Keys)
Caligula (Macy Gray)
Spies (Coldplay)
River of Life (from a meditation CD)
The Walk (The Cure)
Drop (Yin Yang Twins)
This Sky (Derek Trucks Band)
Fast As You Can (Fiona Apple)
Love Ridden (Fiona Apple)
How Glad I Am (Greyboy Allstars)
Waste (Phish song by Dave Mathews)
Blackberry (Black Crowes) … skipped this one, wasn’t feeling it
Engraved Invitation (Ben Harper)
Burritos (Sublime)
Root Down (Beastie Boys)
Doin’ Time (Sublime)
I Feel Alright (Tab Benoit)
~ You know, when you close the blinds to whatever city/town/place you’re in, you’re still right there with yourself. Maybe that place, or that particular environment, whatever it looks or sounds like, makes you act one way--that’s who you are right then. I guess that’s my point. We are - we change - moment to moment based on what is going on around us and our awareness to what’s happening. I am always me RIGHT NOW.
Star Sail (The Verge)
~ Good night.
Drifting (String Cheese Incident)
What I Got (Eric Lindell)
I Walk the Line (Johnny Cash)
So Simple (Alicia Keys)
Caligula (Macy Gray)
Spies (Coldplay)
River of Life (from a meditation CD)
The Walk (The Cure)
Drop (Yin Yang Twins)
This Sky (Derek Trucks Band)
Fast As You Can (Fiona Apple)
Love Ridden (Fiona Apple)
How Glad I Am (Greyboy Allstars)
Waste (Phish song by Dave Mathews)
Blackberry (Black Crowes) … skipped this one, wasn’t feeling it
Engraved Invitation (Ben Harper)
Burritos (Sublime)
Root Down (Beastie Boys)
Doin’ Time (Sublime)
I Feel Alright (Tab Benoit)
~ You know, when you close the blinds to whatever city/town/place you’re in, you’re still right there with yourself. Maybe that place, or that particular environment, whatever it looks or sounds like, makes you act one way--that’s who you are right then. I guess that’s my point. We are - we change - moment to moment based on what is going on around us and our awareness to what’s happening. I am always me RIGHT NOW.
Star Sail (The Verge)
~ Good night.
9/20 Walking home
Florence has much of the same stuff as Siena and Montalcino but bigger and more of them! Gelaterias, Bars (meaning a place to stand and get a Panini and an espresso), wine shops, etc. And everything was so cheap in the country. 6 euro for a Prosecco?! That was 2.50 euro yesterday!
9/20 evening
Dinner in Florence at La Bussola after not having been able to find a Rick Steve’s restaurant. Spent 2 hours at the Uffizi and it was great but came out to pouring rain. Although there were guys at every corner offering to sell me an umbrella for 3 euro, I declined. I put my scarf over my head and enjoyed walking in the rain in Italy. It felt wonderful, actually.
I didn’t want to eat at a busy Piazza restaurant--just not my style. I picked that one from the tour book but just got my spinach and ricotta ravioli with balsamic and I’m in heaven right here with a bottle of Chianti (2006 Castel Ruggero Chianti Classico). Stopped at an amazing Pasterie for a Prosecco first. Everyone else was drinking espresso but I was celebrating! Every day of this trip I am celebrating!
I’m sitting at a cool bar with at attached springy seat and marble counter overlooking a cute guy making pizzas. A bar is such a great option when dining alone.
People just don’t seem as warm here in Florence so far. I’m excited for my food tour tomorrow! I hope it doesn’t rain.
I didn’t want to eat at a busy Piazza restaurant--just not my style. I picked that one from the tour book but just got my spinach and ricotta ravioli with balsamic and I’m in heaven right here with a bottle of Chianti (2006 Castel Ruggero Chianti Classico). Stopped at an amazing Pasterie for a Prosecco first. Everyone else was drinking espresso but I was celebrating! Every day of this trip I am celebrating!
I’m sitting at a cool bar with at attached springy seat and marble counter overlooking a cute guy making pizzas. A bar is such a great option when dining alone.
People just don’t seem as warm here in Florence so far. I’m excited for my food tour tomorrow! I hope it doesn’t rain.
9/20 Broad thoughts on the Uffizi Gallery
Mary and Jesus are always so sad. So many of these paintings are full of scowling faces. Nativity by Simone is the first smiles I see on Mother and Child--very sweet.
Sweet Baby Jesus --just had a Ricky Bobby chuckle.
How could all these women’s breasts be so perky? They didn’t have bras for support and they breastfed all their babies!
I like the human representation of the virtues: Faith, Temperance, Charity, Prudence, Justice, and Hope.
As a Christian I couldn’t help but be moved by the art here. About 90% of it was Jesus and some of it was hard to look at. Like the movie The Passion of the Christ -- you kinda have to look sometimes.
Sweet Baby Jesus --just had a Ricky Bobby chuckle.
How could all these women’s breasts be so perky? They didn’t have bras for support and they breastfed all their babies!
I like the human representation of the virtues: Faith, Temperance, Charity, Prudence, Justice, and Hope.
As a Christian I couldn’t help but be moved by the art here. About 90% of it was Jesus and some of it was hard to look at. Like the movie The Passion of the Christ -- you kinda have to look sometimes.
Monday, September 21, 2009
9/20 working my way to Florence
Had to pee. Had to haul the bags down the elevator (thank goodness there was one!). A random guy in black got on with me and started chatting it up. Yes, I'm headed to Florence. No, I'm not checking my bags, just visiting the ladies room. Yada Yada. He asked me if I had 50 spare cents. Thinking he was some kind of gypsie I simply said "no, I don't." So this guys pulls a handful of change out of his pocket and tells me it cost 50 cents to use the bathroom at the bus station (a public bathroom expense in Italy that is used for who-knows-what because public bathrooms are nasty!). Feeling so bad, I assured him I could drum up the change, but you need exact change. This nice guy helped me navigate my way to the ladies room, just cuz he was a nice guy.
Same guy later spotted me outside and assured me that we were getting on the bus to Florence. After chatting with him onboard for a bit, I learned he was Luke from Rome who was working at a winery in the Chianti region. He was a scholar, a writer. Hmm. He tried very hard to convince me that 3 days was too long in Florence and that I should take a day trip to Venice. I wasn't biting, but he made me think anyway. He got off in his little town in Greve and I kept going to Santa Maria Novella--an icky city train station very similar to every other icky city train station in the world.
I started looking for a cab immediately and was fortunate to find one--with a smiling driver which is always nice. I was about to hop in when I realized I didn't have a suitcase to load! I had left it under the bus! I stranded the cab and ran back, fortunately meeting the bus driver and one of his friends who were thoroughly entertained by my absent-mindedness. I got the bag and walked up to the taxi cue where I immediately got in a car that took me right to the door of my inn. Perfect. Now...I only had about 45 minutes until my reservation at the Uffizi Gallery.
Same guy later spotted me outside and assured me that we were getting on the bus to Florence. After chatting with him onboard for a bit, I learned he was Luke from Rome who was working at a winery in the Chianti region. He was a scholar, a writer. Hmm. He tried very hard to convince me that 3 days was too long in Florence and that I should take a day trip to Venice. I wasn't biting, but he made me think anyway. He got off in his little town in Greve and I kept going to Santa Maria Novella--an icky city train station very similar to every other icky city train station in the world.
I started looking for a cab immediately and was fortunate to find one--with a smiling driver which is always nice. I was about to hop in when I realized I didn't have a suitcase to load! I had left it under the bus! I stranded the cab and ran back, fortunately meeting the bus driver and one of his friends who were thoroughly entertained by my absent-mindedness. I got the bag and walked up to the taxi cue where I immediately got in a car that took me right to the door of my inn. Perfect. Now...I only had about 45 minutes until my reservation at the Uffizi Gallery.
9/20 Adventures to Florence
Incase some of you are unclear, this is how the blogs have been happening. I carry a journal with me everywhere (not just in Italy, at home too) and I have been writing whenever I'm inspired to do so. Every couple of days I find a pocket of time in my hotel room (with wifi service) to update my blog with all my journal entries. Every now and again there's a spontaneous entry, but you know, I'm not about formality. I'm just doing this for my own pleasure. And if you're getting a little something out of it, all the better for me!
So I didn't journal about my adventure from Montalcino to Siena to Florence so I'm writing this blog from memory. It wasn't my favorite day.
First, I was leaving Montalcino. Sad. Sitting in that beautiful little public garden right by the bus turnaround, I tried to soak it all in one last time, and pondered whether or not I could come here for longer than 2 or 3 days (the answer is yes). So on the 10:20 I get, off to Siena where I will arrive at 11:15 and catch the 1:50 bus to Florence. Since it's a Sunday the buses run on a more limited schedule. No biggie...I spent a little bit of time in Siena. I can fill the time.
Italian kid (maybe around 16) falls asleep on me. At least he didn't drool.
The bus dropped me off at the Siena train station where I needed to connect to the city center by another bus--short trip, maybe 10 minutes. So off I go with all my bags. On these buses the protocol is that you board with your ticket and punch them in a machine that is onboard, usually one at the front of the bus and one at the back or midpoint. EVERY OTHER TIME I punched my ticket. Maybe not immediately, but that seemed to be how everyone else was doing it. This time I couldn't store my big suitcase under the bus so I had my obnoxiously rolly bag, and my 2 other "carry ons" and I took the last seat on the bus. Once we started moving I noticed people getting up to punch their cards and I figured when I got up to disembark I'd punch it. Otherwise I'd be risking my big suitcase rolling into some old lady heading to church. I even pondered giving my ticket to the guy next to me who was punching for he and his girlfriend. But I was tired. I just wanted to chill for the 10 min. ride and not deal with the language barrier and all that bologna/proscuitto/salume. You get where I'm going, right? You know what happens next.
The bus stops and a very built suit and badge wearing guy, along with a sidekick who looked just like Amy Sedaris boarded the bus. Come to find out, these are the ticket police. He sees that I haven't punched my ticket, asks for my passport and makes me get off the bus. This sweet English and Italian speaking girl gets off with me and asks if I need help (to which I said, Yes-I think I do!). Long story short, I needed to pay this guy a 40 euro fine for not punching by the time he got on. It's a messed up honor system but if you get caught, there's no getting out of it. The sweet girl told me that it's not like a negotiable thing. You just have to pay them. Ouch. After I handed over my cash, surrounded by all my annoying luggage, I said, "Grazie??" Amy Sedaris shook her head and said, "No, no grazie." Ya.
Fortunately the city center was right around the corner. At this point I decidedc that a nice chilly Prosecco would be tasty. I'm just not the person that likes the establishment that is right on the center, wherever I am. I always want to go at least a block or two away to find something less...accessible. Well, there was nothing accessible. Sunday, remember. Almost everything was closed. I found one place that had white table cloths, fancy waiters, and seemed to be overpriced. Looking back, I could have enjoyed a couple hours there very nicely. But I chose to continue on, up and down the cobblestone streets of Siena, pulling/pushing my suitcase, and 2 "carry on" type bags. Seriously, up and down steep streets for like EVER. I was sweaty and smelly and seeing parts of Siena I didn't recognize from my first night in Italy getting totally lost in this small city.
Over an hour later I find myself back where I started. I just sat on a step and ate some cheese and salami I had picked up before I left Montalcino and downed my water. I ran in to the college girls from UCLA that I met my one night in Siena (that was a fun adventure that I'm not sure I blogged about) and caught up with them for a bit. It was really nice to see a few familiar faces, for sure. Familiar faces that spoke clear English that I had even the tiniest bit of history with. Thank you, Elizabeth and friends!
So I didn't journal about my adventure from Montalcino to Siena to Florence so I'm writing this blog from memory. It wasn't my favorite day.
First, I was leaving Montalcino. Sad. Sitting in that beautiful little public garden right by the bus turnaround, I tried to soak it all in one last time, and pondered whether or not I could come here for longer than 2 or 3 days (the answer is yes). So on the 10:20 I get, off to Siena where I will arrive at 11:15 and catch the 1:50 bus to Florence. Since it's a Sunday the buses run on a more limited schedule. No biggie...I spent a little bit of time in Siena. I can fill the time.
Italian kid (maybe around 16) falls asleep on me. At least he didn't drool.
The bus dropped me off at the Siena train station where I needed to connect to the city center by another bus--short trip, maybe 10 minutes. So off I go with all my bags. On these buses the protocol is that you board with your ticket and punch them in a machine that is onboard, usually one at the front of the bus and one at the back or midpoint. EVERY OTHER TIME I punched my ticket. Maybe not immediately, but that seemed to be how everyone else was doing it. This time I couldn't store my big suitcase under the bus so I had my obnoxiously rolly bag, and my 2 other "carry ons" and I took the last seat on the bus. Once we started moving I noticed people getting up to punch their cards and I figured when I got up to disembark I'd punch it. Otherwise I'd be risking my big suitcase rolling into some old lady heading to church. I even pondered giving my ticket to the guy next to me who was punching for he and his girlfriend. But I was tired. I just wanted to chill for the 10 min. ride and not deal with the language barrier and all that bologna/proscuitto/salume. You get where I'm going, right? You know what happens next.
The bus stops and a very built suit and badge wearing guy, along with a sidekick who looked just like Amy Sedaris boarded the bus. Come to find out, these are the ticket police. He sees that I haven't punched my ticket, asks for my passport and makes me get off the bus. This sweet English and Italian speaking girl gets off with me and asks if I need help (to which I said, Yes-I think I do!). Long story short, I needed to pay this guy a 40 euro fine for not punching by the time he got on. It's a messed up honor system but if you get caught, there's no getting out of it. The sweet girl told me that it's not like a negotiable thing. You just have to pay them. Ouch. After I handed over my cash, surrounded by all my annoying luggage, I said, "Grazie??" Amy Sedaris shook her head and said, "No, no grazie." Ya.
Fortunately the city center was right around the corner. At this point I decidedc that a nice chilly Prosecco would be tasty. I'm just not the person that likes the establishment that is right on the center, wherever I am. I always want to go at least a block or two away to find something less...accessible. Well, there was nothing accessible. Sunday, remember. Almost everything was closed. I found one place that had white table cloths, fancy waiters, and seemed to be overpriced. Looking back, I could have enjoyed a couple hours there very nicely. But I chose to continue on, up and down the cobblestone streets of Siena, pulling/pushing my suitcase, and 2 "carry on" type bags. Seriously, up and down steep streets for like EVER. I was sweaty and smelly and seeing parts of Siena I didn't recognize from my first night in Italy getting totally lost in this small city.
Over an hour later I find myself back where I started. I just sat on a step and ate some cheese and salami I had picked up before I left Montalcino and downed my water. I ran in to the college girls from UCLA that I met my one night in Siena (that was a fun adventure that I'm not sure I blogged about) and caught up with them for a bit. It was really nice to see a few familiar faces, for sure. Familiar faces that spoke clear English that I had even the tiniest bit of history with. Thank you, Elizabeth and friends!
Sounds of Tuscany
Everywhere I've been in Tuscany I hear the clanking of dishes. Obviously down the streets lined with restaurants, but from the open windows of residences. It seems someone is always clearing...or washing...or setting.
There is also a stillness I hear when I am away. I think that sounds comes from within my own head. I remember the first time I went to the Ritz at Reynold's Plantation on Lake Oconee and when that little knicker-wearing guy openned my car door for me, I think I put my hands over my ears. It was so quiet. It's obviously not like that here, with so many people around, but maybe it's just putting myself in a different setting, away from the noise I hear on a day-to-day basis, makes me realize what else is out there...or not.
The general hum of other people speaking a foreign language, whether it be a native speaking to a coworker or another tourist speaking a language other than my own, I can't tune in to that conversation. I think I do that too much back home. Not that I'm a big eaves dropper or anything--I think I can be easily distracted. I need to work on focusing on what I'm engaged in and blocking the rest out. After all, it is probably just noise.
There is also a stillness I hear when I am away. I think that sounds comes from within my own head. I remember the first time I went to the Ritz at Reynold's Plantation on Lake Oconee and when that little knicker-wearing guy openned my car door for me, I think I put my hands over my ears. It was so quiet. It's obviously not like that here, with so many people around, but maybe it's just putting myself in a different setting, away from the noise I hear on a day-to-day basis, makes me realize what else is out there...or not.
The general hum of other people speaking a foreign language, whether it be a native speaking to a coworker or another tourist speaking a language other than my own, I can't tune in to that conversation. I think I do that too much back home. Not that I'm a big eaves dropper or anything--I think I can be easily distracted. I need to work on focusing on what I'm engaged in and blocking the rest out. After all, it is probably just noise.
9/20 on bus from Montalcino to Sii
I missed the sunflowers. There are fields of brown and dried up, droopy sunflowers. I can only imagine how beautiful they must have been.
This morning I discovered if I order caffe con leche I get a small pitcher of coffee and one of milk--much better.
This morning I discovered if I order caffe con leche I get a small pitcher of coffee and one of milk--much better.
morning of 9/20
I had a great nights sleep last night. Did not take Mr. Luciano up on his offer for wine with him at midnight when his restaurant closed (oh, did I forget to mention that earlier?). I wish I had thought to see the sun set over the valley one last time but I was so anxious to get to dinner so I could be well rested for this morning's travels.
Oh! Yesterday I found a flower shop--or rather a garden shop (plants, not cut flowers) and the very friendly owner (who spoke no english) showed me a jujuberry (?) tree and had me eat some fruit straight from the tree. Fun and special experience. I wonder if my boot budget is going to have to go to a massage (*note: I wrote this in my journal on 9/20 but now in Florence on 9/21 I know that boot budget is going for BOOTS.). Might make the 11 hour flight home more comfortable.
Heavy fog over parts of the valley today. Didn't bring my camera to breakfast. This town is just truly stunning. I've got an hour on th bus to Siena then at least another hour to Florence. Then I'm cabbing it to the hotel! No more shlepping this damn bag!
Oh! Yesterday I found a flower shop--or rather a garden shop (plants, not cut flowers) and the very friendly owner (who spoke no english) showed me a jujuberry (?) tree and had me eat some fruit straight from the tree. Fun and special experience. I wonder if my boot budget is going to have to go to a massage (*note: I wrote this in my journal on 9/20 but now in Florence on 9/21 I know that boot budget is going for BOOTS.). Might make the 11 hour flight home more comfortable.
Heavy fog over parts of the valley today. Didn't bring my camera to breakfast. This town is just truly stunning. I've got an hour on th bus to Siena then at least another hour to Florence. Then I'm cabbing it to the hotel! No more shlepping this damn bag!
9/19 last dinner in Montalcino
I'm pretty beat and have to get up to catch a bus in the morning so I decide to do a little shopping before an early dinner. I got my Tuscan table runner which will look nice on Grandma's dining room table, although I'm getting rid of the red rug as soon as I get home. The kids are always out in the streets at this hour. Running around, popping in for a slice of pizza or a gelato then running to visit their parents at their restaurant or shop.
I wandered down to the opposite end of town today and found a breathtaking park. Views that went on forever. In the morning the fog hangs over these valleys and hills but this time of day it was pretty clear--to the distant mountains. As I'm snapping pictures and petting another neighborhood kitty, I hear drumming. I decided whatever that was, I needed to find it. I began trekking back up in to the village and ultimately found a parade. There are 4 distinct neighborhoods in Montalcinoo that all have their own flags, colors, symbols, etc. This was one neighborhood represented by children and adults dressed in traditional wear, playing the drums and very seriously and ceremoniously marching through town. They ended up in a church that had their neighborhood flags posted all around it so I'm not sure if it was a meeting of some sort, or a wedding...not sure. But it sure was very cool.
So I chose Taverna Del Grappolo Blu to have dinner. I think I read about it somewhere. I got there at about 7:15 which is early for dinner in Italy. I got a table in a back room and informed the owner that I was excited to be there for wine and pasta with porcinis. He informed me he did not have porcinis but he had fungi i truffle oil--fine. Yum. For the next 2 hours I chatted with the owner, Luciano, and had wonderful discussions of travelling alone and life balance. Ahh. Oh--and my waitress was wearing a blinged out shirt that read "Only Boring People Get Bored." Ha! I finished off dinner with a small ramekin of molten chocolate and a delicious dessert wine, both recommendations and compliments of Luciano. I love this town.
I wandered down to the opposite end of town today and found a breathtaking park. Views that went on forever. In the morning the fog hangs over these valleys and hills but this time of day it was pretty clear--to the distant mountains. As I'm snapping pictures and petting another neighborhood kitty, I hear drumming. I decided whatever that was, I needed to find it. I began trekking back up in to the village and ultimately found a parade. There are 4 distinct neighborhoods in Montalcinoo that all have their own flags, colors, symbols, etc. This was one neighborhood represented by children and adults dressed in traditional wear, playing the drums and very seriously and ceremoniously marching through town. They ended up in a church that had their neighborhood flags posted all around it so I'm not sure if it was a meeting of some sort, or a wedding...not sure. But it sure was very cool.
So I chose Taverna Del Grappolo Blu to have dinner. I think I read about it somewhere. I got there at about 7:15 which is early for dinner in Italy. I got a table in a back room and informed the owner that I was excited to be there for wine and pasta with porcinis. He informed me he did not have porcinis but he had fungi i truffle oil--fine. Yum. For the next 2 hours I chatted with the owner, Luciano, and had wonderful discussions of travelling alone and life balance. Ahh. Oh--and my waitress was wearing a blinged out shirt that read "Only Boring People Get Bored." Ha! I finished off dinner with a small ramekin of molten chocolate and a delicious dessert wine, both recommendations and compliments of Luciano. I love this town.
tablecloth
Multiply by 2.54 to get the measurement of something in inches in to centimeters. My dining room table is 96 cm wide and somewhere between 142 and 241 cm long. Just thought I'd share the math work I did today with a funky textile lady and her dog.
Thoughts from Montalcino
In the US we are always in such a rush. We are always working for something bigger. WE're never quite satisfied, seldom taking the time to just stop and appreciate and be happy. I feel like I live with gratitude a lot but I am guilty of always looking forward to whatever happens next. Whats wrong with whats happening right now? It doesn't mean I'm not ambitious. It doesn't mean I don't have goals. Again, why do I do the things I do? Because it makes me happy or because I'm trying to prove myself to someone? When I return I will remember and try to embrace the simplicity of this place. They are living a good life.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
9/19 Montalcino morning
Here is the view from the breakfast room of Hotel Il Giglio...
I enjoyed a lovely breakfast of cappucino, eggs, some meats and cheese, and some sort of pear tart or something. I think this morning I'm going to bring my book with me and find a nice scenic place to relax and read for a bit. I'm going to catch another bus this afternoon to visit an Abbey just outside of town. I'm hoping to find a linen shop today and definitely my pasta i fungi! Here are some highlights from last evening's pictures...
9/18 Montalcino
My first afternoon in Montalcino was wonderful. This place is glorious. I took a ton of pictures but uploading them to the blog would take forever so I'll send out a gallery sometime soon. The views here are unbelievable--brought a tear to my eye at sunset last night. There is a large tower here that has a wine tasting room at the bottom...a big draw in Montalcino. I went and wasn't that impressed, which is usually what I feel about very touristy things. I really enjoyed watching all the old Itialian people walking the streets and the young kids playing soccer and being silly. After coming back to my room and cleaning up for the evening I went a few doors down to a wine bar to catch a little bit of the Friday night scene.Up until now I've noticed that everyone wears practical shoes all the time. Last night was the first night I saw the girls dolled up. More college-age looking girls all sparkly and teetering on high heels. As I was enjoying my Brunello a familiar face came in. A girl named Chanette that worked at one of the shops I visited yesterday. She invited me to come outside and join her table. She was from Holland working in Montalcino, she had a friend who lived in San Francisco for a while but landed back in her native Italy. They both spoke very good English. Their other two friends spoke no English but all of the conversation, whether I could understand it or not, was very entertaining! Turns out Chanette knows the woman who runs the tour I'll be taking in Florence on Monday...such a small world! I bought a round of lemoncellos for everyone and I was on my way to find some pasta with porcinis.
This town shuts down earlier than Siena and the restaurants are smaller so they can't seat as many people. I ended up in a little pizza place getting my first Italian pizza to go. The super sweet guy behind the counter gave me a glass of rosso and we talked music for a while. And back in my room I devoured my pizza and the rest of my wine from the afternoon while talking to my kiddos on skype. The best way to end my days here~
Friday, September 18, 2009
9/18 4:55pm
I’m enjoying my first Montalcino Brunello at a little outdoor café called Vineria Le Potazzine with a plate of meats and cheese. Hello--whoever knows me knows I’m in HEAVEN. The weather has been PERFECT. So gorgeous, although this morning is Siena was quite foggy which was really cool. I arrived via bus today and enjoyed sharing the ride with what appeared to be middle school kids going home from school. I was amazed how far some of them traveled, several on the bus for more than 30 minutes. The vibe here is very different…so quiet and peaceful. There is also a bell tower here that rings regularly. A couple babies, a couple dogs. I saw my first Italian temper tantrum from a little girl. There are cool water fountains along the road to hydrate after hiking this hilly roads. My heels are full out open wounds right now, but I’m pretty numb to it. Just saw two little boys with buzz cuts, about 5 years old, trading what looked like baseball cards. Maybe soccer? Not hearing many Americans here. Off to observe and soak in some more of this utopia.
I’m enjoying my first Montalcino Brunello at a little outdoor café called Vineria Le Potazzine with a plate of meats and cheese. Hello--whoever knows me knows I’m in HEAVEN. The weather has been PERFECT. So gorgeous, although this morning is Siena was quite foggy which was really cool. I arrived via bus today and enjoyed sharing the ride with what appeared to be middle school kids going home from school. I was amazed how far some of them traveled, several on the bus for more than 30 minutes. The vibe here is very different…so quiet and peaceful. There is also a bell tower here that rings regularly. A couple babies, a couple dogs. I saw my first Italian temper tantrum from a little girl. There are cool water fountains along the road to hydrate after hiking this hilly roads. My heels are full out open wounds right now, but I’m pretty numb to it. Just saw two little boys with buzz cuts, about 5 years old, trading what looked like baseball cards. Maybe soccer? Not hearing many Americans here. Off to observe and soak in some more of this utopia.
918 10:55am
My first Panini, although just cheese and tomato with cappuccino. I must admit, I’m craving a venti brew-of-the-day in a to go cup. These coffees are small! I’m in a little café off the Duomo--”she’s fresh…exciting” is playing on the radio and the guy is smoking behind the counter in between customers. My back and feet are killing me. Maybe I will be seeking out those healing springs after all.
Note to readers!
I am driving myself crazy with the sensitivity of this new mouse and the little quirks of my netbook so please ignore typos and weird gramatical things. Normally I'm a stickler for that but I'll never post anything if I care too much about that! So---there.
from 9/17 7:25 Siena
Sorry - I think Italian men are adorable! I left my inn and wandered down little side roads that I would think would be pedestrian only, but now and again a tiny little car squeezes the walkers to the side .I did stumble upon the Piazza del Campo which was, well, as fabulous as everyone has said. Far too much to photograph. The streets are busy and I love to see many children out playing. I can so see having my kids here. It is just so different. So relaxed. So simple. And I love the “publicness” of it. The town center--I’ve always been drawn to that.
I chose a random little spot, Osteria il Vicolo, on a quieter and darker street to have my first Tuscan red--a rosso de la casa and it is wonderful! My adorable waiter just brought me my olive oil soaked bruscetta and it is….divine. The “Bon Apetito” that accompanied it was - well - icing on the cake doesn’t describe it. I just noticed that Cold Play is playing. A little bit of the familiar in the foreign. What is it about these little bistros that make them so wonderful vs. the American version that so many times
I chose a random little spot, Osteria il Vicolo, on a quieter and darker street to have my first Tuscan red--a rosso de la casa and it is wonderful! My adorable waiter just brought me my olive oil soaked bruscetta and it is….divine. The “Bon Apetito” that accompanied it was - well - icing on the cake doesn’t describe it. I just noticed that Cold Play is playing. A little bit of the familiar in the foreign. What is it about these little bistros that make them so wonderful vs. the American version that so many times
from 9/17 5:30pm
Enjoying a glass of the Prosecco I bought on my way to my inn from the bus station. The rooftop deck is just stunning. Met a lovely couple from the Netherlands. I think the bells are chiming on the half hour. They sound so beautiful. It’s actually easy to imagine those same bells ringing centuries ago.
from 1:40 bus to Siena
Carwashes, playgrounds, man riding a scooter with a soggy looking cigar hanging out of his mouth, graffiti, man with knee-high studded black leather boots, shutters on all the windows, those signature tall, thin trees (cypress? Why don’t I know what they are?), crazy roundabouts, women in bold pinstripe suits. They sell outdoor brick ovens at their garden stores.
I’m so here.
Simplify. That really resonates here. Nothing seems open this afternoon. Siesta?
I’m so here.
Simplify. That really resonates here. Nothing seems open this afternoon. Siesta?
Thursday, September 17, 2009
from 9/17 11:35 between Paris and Florence
Clouds--puffy cloud-looking clouds. And countryside! Small clusters of terra cota roofs amidst continuous green hills and valleys.
I was able to sleep quite well for over an hour on this cramped little plane. I feel pretty good! Looking forward to my first cup of Italian coffee in the airport. My air travel is coming to an end--now the bus! Shuttle to the Santa Maria Novella train station in Florence, then switch to a direct bus to Siena. What will I drink when I'm there? Will I need more coffee or will I be ready for Prosecco?! My ass is tired of sitting--I'm ready to get moving!
I was able to sleep quite well for over an hour on this cramped little plane. I feel pretty good! Looking forward to my first cup of Italian coffee in the airport. My air travel is coming to an end--now the bus! Shuttle to the Santa Maria Novella train station in Florence, then switch to a direct bus to Siena. What will I drink when I'm there? Will I need more coffee or will I be ready for Prosecco?! My ass is tired of sitting--I'm ready to get moving!
from 9/17 9:30am Paris time
The first snafu of my trip and I haven't even set foot on Italian soil yet. While waiting for my gate announcement in Paris, I decided to double check my plan for once I landed in Florence. I had printed out an itinerary and all the email confirmations for my inns.
What? Wait! My Siena inn says 9/19, not 9/17! Maybe I printed out an old email. Perhaps I have my days in Siena and Montalcino mixed up.
No. It's a total Cristin move. I've never proclaimed to be a detail person--even though I called to confirm all my reservations last week. Skipping past all the fumbling with airport wifi and ultimately cell phone calls from France to Italy, I am still staying at Hotel Villa Elda this evening, but instead of a single room, I have a junior suite. It's a 30 euro mistake but the girl at the inn and I were able to have a laugh about it (or at me, rather). Also in true Cristin fashion, I'm rollin' with it and not sweating the small stuff. If mishaps such as this are the worst of my troubles on this trip, then I'll come home a happy girl.
What? Wait! My Siena inn says 9/19, not 9/17! Maybe I printed out an old email. Perhaps I have my days in Siena and Montalcino mixed up.
No. It's a total Cristin move. I've never proclaimed to be a detail person--even though I called to confirm all my reservations last week. Skipping past all the fumbling with airport wifi and ultimately cell phone calls from France to Italy, I am still staying at Hotel Villa Elda this evening, but instead of a single room, I have a junior suite. It's a 30 euro mistake but the girl at the inn and I were able to have a laugh about it (or at me, rather). Also in true Cristin fashion, I'm rollin' with it and not sweating the small stuff. If mishaps such as this are the worst of my troubles on this trip, then I'll come home a happy girl.
Arrivederci!
Remember when you got your first puppy? You took her out for a walk on campus (because everyone got their first dog in college, right?) and it seemed like everyone had a new puppy. Same goes for strollers--first time you went to the park you noticed a dozen other strollers. I’ve been to the Atlanta airport a hundred times but never noticed the passport and visa office near ticketing. Or the currency conversion office. I wonder how many other things I miss every day because they are just not part of my current awareness, even though they’re right in front of my face.
When I got through security (which was a little disappointing for me as the silent TSA guy was not remotely impressed that I was using my passport for the first time--I was giddy!) I didn’t need to get on the tram! The international terminal is right there. I’m pretty sure I’ve been to this terminal before. Clearly I’m not going to remember the 1999 trip to Jamaica (that’s a whole other bottle of wine, as a dear friend says), but regardless, it feels brand new to me. But I am very curious as to why On The Border the only full-service restaurant in the international terminal? I suppose it is quite suiting for me, as 'Mexican and margaritas' is one of my favorite things. But what about the people that are flying in from other parts of the world? Isn’t there something a little sexier we could offer them?
And I have to ask--the bald guy with the giant American flag tie? Is he an American? I kinda think not. He walked like a European, and wore really cool glasses like my British friends. But they would never in a million years wear that tie. I look like I’m heading out to teach a yoga class, so who am I to judge, right?
Speaking of Americans though, I must say that I have never seen so many soldiers in the airport. I always see them, but there are a lot today. I get a little teary whenever I see them. Where have they been? Where are they going? Who are they leaving behind? My gratitude for what they do for me and for the amazing life I have in America just overwhelms me sometimes. At the mall once I saw the owner of a little falafel shop give lunch free-of-charge to a man in uniform, with a “thank you for your service,” and I literally started crying.
Okay--just saw my first person wearing a mask to protect them from germs. I wonder how much of that I will see. I do think airports are one of the dirtiest places and always want to sanitize (I’m a little obsessive when I have my kids in the airport).
I’m going to end this scattered blog entry with a little daydream I had on the way to the airport. Today was a tough morning. When passing my kids’ school I so badly wanted to pull in and run to their classrooms to give them one last kiss and hug…but I resisted. They’ve already said their goodbyes and I just would have cried. But my mind has been all over the place today. Including imagining bumping in to Kate Beckinsale at the airport (why her, I don’t know) and her inviting me to spend the week with her and her friends in Paris. That would be easier, I thought. Easier than a week by myself. But would I do it? Would I take her up on her offer? No. I couldn’t. This is important for me to do. Sorry, Kate. I’ve got a lot in store for me in the next seven days. But right now I am very grateful for the wonderful hand-shaken margarita that has calmed my nerves a bit. If I really need that hug, maybe I’ll just go find a soldier.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Jitters
Why does everyone need to tell me the night before I leave about Italian gypsies who throw their babies at you so you're distracted while they steal your luggage? Why all the reminders to be wary of smarmy Italian men? Why am I encountering the non-traveling folks who can't imagine doing this trip on their own?
I just put my kids to bed and it's all I can do to hold back the tears. Am I selfish for leaving them for a week? How could I possibly thoroughly enjoy myself if they aren't with me? What wonderful things am I going to miss while I'm away?
I know this is my mind playing tricks on me. Or is it my heart? I didn't peg my heart as a prankster. I know that this is good for me, and good for them. And I suppose I'm glad that I do feel this way...man, what would my mind be telling me if I didn't.
Okay, one more trip to the bus stop then I can focus on my adventure ahead. It will never compare to the adventure I've been on for the past eight years, but if there's one thing I've learned...I am strong enough to handle any crazy gypsy, creepy guy, or awkward moment I may experience.
Ugh....get me on the road!
I just put my kids to bed and it's all I can do to hold back the tears. Am I selfish for leaving them for a week? How could I possibly thoroughly enjoy myself if they aren't with me? What wonderful things am I going to miss while I'm away?
I know this is my mind playing tricks on me. Or is it my heart? I didn't peg my heart as a prankster. I know that this is good for me, and good for them. And I suppose I'm glad that I do feel this way...man, what would my mind be telling me if I didn't.
Okay, one more trip to the bus stop then I can focus on my adventure ahead. It will never compare to the adventure I've been on for the past eight years, but if there's one thing I've learned...I am strong enough to handle any crazy gypsy, creepy guy, or awkward moment I may experience.
Ugh....get me on the road!
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
The final countdown
I've got 24 hours before I leave for the airport. Unless you're a Mom, you don't truly understand all that is involved in preparing for a trip like this. Besides reading, researching, and doing the other necessary legwork for traveling abroad, I have four other people who are quite accustomed to me being here and ensuring their lives run relatively smoothly, and I want to make my absence as easy on them as possible. I spent the weekend making lasagna, enchiladas, and chocolate chip cookies so the kids don't eat hot dogs every day and so Harry doesn't have peanuts for dinner every night. (I'm willing to bet he'll still do it at least twice while I'm gone. I do the same thing--but popcorn is my dinner of choice.) I have all the teacher notes written, dated, and posted on the cork board so they can go to school with the kids on the appropriate day. I've arranged play dates and pick-ups from carpool. I've stocked the pantry with snacks. I've created a detailed schedule for each family member that indicates who is buying lunch in the cafeteria, who has dance class, who is staying after school, and how and when it's all going to happen. On top of this, my oldest is spending the weekend at a soccer tournament with friends. This means packing for her and worrying about her first trip away from home. I'm about to do laundry so no one runs out of underwear. I've got to run to the liquor store so my husband can indulge in a nightly glass of red wine, just as I would need to do after a day with the kids. The house is clean, the gas tank in the minivan is full (I even checked the oil and the tires). I'm preparing a pork roast for our last family dinner for a week. I've even made little boxes with a message to each kid (and my husband as well) for each day that I'm gone. Gosh, I'm gonna miss them.
People keep asking me if I'm excited, and of course I am. But I think I was more excited a few weeks ago when my my energy and thoughts were all on the details of my days in Italy. For the past week my head has been 10% in Italy and 90% right here at home. 24 hours from now, when I've departed my little suburban oasis, all clean and tidy, I'll begin that journey of releasing that part of me, that 24-hour Mom, and begin getting acquainted again with Cristin. Just Cristin. I feel like I know her pretty well, but I know I'm going to learn so much about her on this trip. Maybe not so much things I just didn't know before, but discovering new facets that can only develop when pushed out of the comfort zone and exploring new and stimulating places. I'll still be 100% Mom for the next 7 days...but when I return I'll be even a little bit more.
People keep asking me if I'm excited, and of course I am. But I think I was more excited a few weeks ago when my my energy and thoughts were all on the details of my days in Italy. For the past week my head has been 10% in Italy and 90% right here at home. 24 hours from now, when I've departed my little suburban oasis, all clean and tidy, I'll begin that journey of releasing that part of me, that 24-hour Mom, and begin getting acquainted again with Cristin. Just Cristin. I feel like I know her pretty well, but I know I'm going to learn so much about her on this trip. Maybe not so much things I just didn't know before, but discovering new facets that can only develop when pushed out of the comfort zone and exploring new and stimulating places. I'll still be 100% Mom for the next 7 days...but when I return I'll be even a little bit more.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
How? Why?
I've always been and upward-and-onward type of person. I had my college applications filled out by the beginning of my junior year of high school. Always ready for the next big thing, the next phase of life, the next vacation, the next weekend.
I graduated from Syracuse University in the spring of 1995. After working a few jobs and living at home that summer, I hopped in my Ford Escort and headed south to Atlanta. Leaving behind the frigid winters of my upbringing, the people who had known me since I was six years old, and my family that knew I was ready to fly on my own--I ventured out to design a new life for myself. I was in charge of myself, responsible for myself, and accountable to myself. I didn't know anyone in Atlanta and I didn't have a job, but I was anxious to start building my resume. The idea was to start climbing that corporate ladder so I could earn the big bucks and travel. At the time my brother was following Phish around the country with a couple of friends and surviving on canned hash and Mountain Dew. I wanted to travel, but I didn't want to do it that way. And, never having been west of Ohio, I thought I'd like to explore my own great country before travelling abroad.
That was my plan.
Fast forward 6 months. I've got a full-time job, I've fallen into a social routine with a great group of friends, and I met Harry. Fast forward 6 months. Harry and I are professing our love for one another and spending every weekend at the lake. Fast forward 6 months. Harry and I move in together. See where this is going? My plans now involved the input of this guy that I was (and still am) crazy about. Here's the kicker: Harry is 13 years older than me. Way ahead of travel on my list of things to do was to have a family. Not wanting the bus driver to mistake my children's father for their grandfather (that happened to my dad, but he was just prematurely gray), we figured we'd better focus on the family goal first. We did do some travel around the US and the islands, but fast forward to 2001 and Ava was born. Eighteen months later Harrison was born. Almost eighteen months after that Piper Rose was born. I was lucky to travel to the grocery store and the pediatrician's office in one day, let alone jet setting to Europe.
Please understand, I have no regrets. That's another part of my personality--believing that everything happens as it should and at just the right time. I wouldn't trade a single part of my life to this point for a scrapbook full of mementos from South America. But, also please understand, I have worked my butt off the past eight years caring for these three precious gifts (4 if you count Harry, which we all know I should). Now it is my time. This is my time. I proudly and tearfully put Piper on the bus with her big brother and sister and watched them drive away, realizing that one phase of my life was over. I made it! The kids made it! My marriage made it! The dog--well, she got shipped to Grandma's. But our family is solid and I am extremely proud.
So damn it, I'm taking myself to Italy!!
I graduated from Syracuse University in the spring of 1995. After working a few jobs and living at home that summer, I hopped in my Ford Escort and headed south to Atlanta. Leaving behind the frigid winters of my upbringing, the people who had known me since I was six years old, and my family that knew I was ready to fly on my own--I ventured out to design a new life for myself. I was in charge of myself, responsible for myself, and accountable to myself. I didn't know anyone in Atlanta and I didn't have a job, but I was anxious to start building my resume. The idea was to start climbing that corporate ladder so I could earn the big bucks and travel. At the time my brother was following Phish around the country with a couple of friends and surviving on canned hash and Mountain Dew. I wanted to travel, but I didn't want to do it that way. And, never having been west of Ohio, I thought I'd like to explore my own great country before travelling abroad.
That was my plan.
Fast forward 6 months. I've got a full-time job, I've fallen into a social routine with a great group of friends, and I met Harry. Fast forward 6 months. Harry and I are professing our love for one another and spending every weekend at the lake. Fast forward 6 months. Harry and I move in together. See where this is going? My plans now involved the input of this guy that I was (and still am) crazy about. Here's the kicker: Harry is 13 years older than me. Way ahead of travel on my list of things to do was to have a family. Not wanting the bus driver to mistake my children's father for their grandfather (that happened to my dad, but he was just prematurely gray), we figured we'd better focus on the family goal first. We did do some travel around the US and the islands, but fast forward to 2001 and Ava was born. Eighteen months later Harrison was born. Almost eighteen months after that Piper Rose was born. I was lucky to travel to the grocery store and the pediatrician's office in one day, let alone jet setting to Europe.
Please understand, I have no regrets. That's another part of my personality--believing that everything happens as it should and at just the right time. I wouldn't trade a single part of my life to this point for a scrapbook full of mementos from South America. But, also please understand, I have worked my butt off the past eight years caring for these three precious gifts (4 if you count Harry, which we all know I should). Now it is my time. This is my time. I proudly and tearfully put Piper on the bus with her big brother and sister and watched them drive away, realizing that one phase of my life was over. I made it! The kids made it! My marriage made it! The dog--well, she got shipped to Grandma's. But our family is solid and I am extremely proud.
So damn it, I'm taking myself to Italy!!
Sunday, September 6, 2009
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