Ritorno alla Hershey, PA

9/6 -
I was greeted at Harrisburg International airport by my Mom and brother's Mike & Dave.  Mike even made a huge sign - it was a great homecoming...  We went out for dinner and spent some time catching up with one another.  It was a very good time.  I hadn't slept on the flight, nor that much the night before, but I was still not tired.  I felt strange.  My body feels different.  My skin feels different.  My ears are confused by all the sound.  Everything around me is different.  I feel like a tourist on my own home turf...  I figure that's the jet lag talking.

I stayed up as long as I could, almost making it to midnight.  I slept the entire next day...

9/18 -
It is taking me a long time to adjust to my surroundings...  I am in a familiar place that is also strangely unfamiliar.  Everything feels different.  My skin.  The air.  It's loud here...  My ears are flooded with American noises.  TV's, radio's, cell  phones.....car's....  I am wondering what the heck I am doing here.  Why aren't I in Italy?  Where are the real fresh tomatoes?  Where did all the color go? What happened to the air?  What is all this English?

My body and senses are messed up.  I am kinda glad to be back but kinda not.  I don't know what that means...  Living in Italy for over four months - I fell in love with it and with the people.  And the last five weeks I got used to seeing and speaking to the same small group of people every day, over and over and over again... I drank coffee all day long, sat on benches and watched the town go by.  I went to the butcher and baker every day or two and I drank a river of wine.  I made friends...  I ate vegetables!!

My last week here, I started dreaming in Italian.  I still couldn't understand it, but they were.  I'd wake up laughing because I had no idea what was said in my dreams.   It was wonderful...

But now I am here and reality is trying to break down my outer Tuscan wall.  I don't want to lose what I have discovered.  I don't want the noise of who I was before the trip to alter who I am now after the trip.  I don't want to forget who I have become.

My environment will soon be getting louder as I am moving back to Chicago.  I have a great opportunity there working for Abbott Labs as a Business Systems Analyst.  The office is north of the city so I will be looking for a place in da burbs.  I was not planning on Chicago, but I am happy to be going back.  I have friends and family there and good things happened to me there.  So it is a good re-entry step.  I am excited for the job, nervous - - as I have been out of step for a while and right now noise is a problem - - but I am excited for the opportunity.  It's a new adventure.

But this one, the 2012 Italy tour adventure is now officially over.  I am so sad about that........  I had such a great time.  I loved every day - didn't love every hotel room but loved every day!  I can't believe I did that!!!!!!!!!  It was awesome!!!!!!!!!!!!!  AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

To my readers - - - - thank you!  For coming along, for telling me you were reading, for telling me you were having fun with me...  I was reluctant to do the blog at first, who wants to type when on vacation?  But then I enjoyed the idea of knowing someone would read it later and I wanted them to know everything so they could see the day as I saw it.  I'm so glad you enjoyed it...

Go to Italy.  Or to Hawaii.  Or to China.  Or to Alaska???  Wherever YOUR Italy is, go there.  Do that thing that you've always wanted to do but have let go of because you had other responsibilities. Living the dream, your dream, IS one of your responsibilities.  This is it - you get one shot, one chance, one...  Life IS a banquet, and I have the tight clothes to prove it!!!  

Ciao ~ ciao, ciao, ciao, ciao...   

xoxo

The last entry from Italy

9/5 –

I rise very early to pack the last of my things, inspect the house one last time and make sure all is in order.  I need to be on the road no later than 8:30 as I have to have my car back to the rental agency in Florence before noon.   I’m not worried about getting to Florence, just finding the rental car place once I am there… 

I try to be quiet as to not wake Pina but I hear her moving in her place around by 7am and she comes into Case Pellegrini at 7:30 to see if I need any help.   I have already packed the car and need to start my rounds to see some of the town people to say goodbye.  I tell her I am going to Cinzia’s for café and ask if she wants to come along, she says no.  A minute later she says yes and yells to Andrea the butcher to join us.   She insists on paying but Andrea beats her to it.  I tell Pina I need to see some other people and will see her back at the house.   I tell Cinzia I will be back for one more café and then give her the letter I wrote her.  She asked how she would read it, I told her it is in Italian – “brava Lean-da, brava!!”   

I walked up to the bakery and said my goodbyes to Christine.  She is lovely and gives me a big hug and asks if I will be back next August, I tell her I will try and if not then in two years.  She smiles and I tell her to keep practicing her English.   She laughs.  Another of the women from town was in the bakery, shook my hand, wished me a good journey and told me to come back.  I left there and walked to Annedia’s store, along the way I ran into two more of the town women who gave me hugs and told me to come back again soon.   Annedia is standing on her store steps waiting for me and I give her a big hug…  I thank her for everything and she thanks me as well and tells me I must come back and that the whole town will miss my smile.     

I step into Cinzia’s club for one more café and see that she has started reading the note.  The last café is on her, she won’t let me pay but I still left a tip.  I’ve been tipping her ever since I’ve been here, she told me I’m the only one that does...   We hug and shed a few tears and I promise I will write to her and be back next August or the following.  She hugs me again and I walk out of her club, out of the colorful beaded screen door for the last time today. 

I then face Pina and Aimone.  Aimone is up early just for me…  I kiss them, hug them, tell them I love them, call them Mama and Balbo and give them the letters I wrote for them.  Pina is weeping as much as I am and Aimone is tearing up as well.  They tell me they love me and tell me to drive slow to Florence.  Piano, Lean-da, piano!!  I tell them I will send them a post card from Hershey to let them know I am ok and will also write to them from Chicago.  Pina takes my face in her hands one last time and says in English – “come back”.  My heart is breaking…   I am afraid I will never see them again.  I must go back as soon as I can, I need more time, I need more recipes, I need more smiles, I need more kisses.   I need more…

I walk out to the car and Mauro calls to me from the gas station next door so I trot over and give him a last kiss.  He says loving things to me, I don’t know what but I know they are loving, and kisses my hand and then starts working up my arm.  Dirty old man…  I kiss him once more and then run back towards the car.  I realized I forgot to hug Andrea, so I dash into the butcher shop and he is chopping up meat for a customer.  I say “Andrea, mia amico, ciao” – “non Lean-da” he replies and I step behind the butcher counter to give him a big hug.  He tells me, in English, “you must come back, I need English lessons”.  I promise I will, give him one more kiss and then I go.   As I open the car door, I see Pina in her kitchen window looking out at me and crying.  I throw her a kiss, tell her I love her and she does the same and I get in the car and go.  I can barely see out the car window as I drive off at 8:30a, there is too much water leaking out of my eyes…  Oy, oy, oy…  I laid on the horn for a bit as I drove off, knowing Pina and the others would be able to hear it and that it would make them laugh. 

I had to quickly dry my tears as I am now driving the Formula One roads of the small Tuscany towns.  Seriously, they are wicked.  You drive in 2nd and 3rd gear most of the time, and sometimes even have to drop back to first for the switchback hairpin turns.   It is a good way to keep my mind off the ache in my chest.  I have no time for tears; I need all of my senses to maneuver these roads.    I open the car windows and drove those roads for over an hour before I actually get to put the car in 4th gear – but just for a few minutes then it was back to 3rd, and 2nd and back to 3rd, etc.   If you don’t like serpentine roads or are a skittish driver, this is not the drive for you.  

I get to Florence right around 11:00am, it took me another 40 minutes to find the rental car place.  I had to ask for directions five times while in town.   It’s a bigger city than I thought.  At one point, I started driving down the wrong way on a one-way street and was alerted to my error by cars honking behind me and people yelling.  I had to turn around in a very small space and stopped traffic, both cars and people, for a few moments.  I yelled out my window “mi dispiace, tourista” (sorry - tourist!) and got laughs and waves. 

After dropping off the car, I started walking to the train station with my big luggage bag on wheels and the other new bag I bought over my shoulder.  The shoulder bag must weigh over 30 pounds.  It is full of cheese, olive oil, coffee, two bottles of wine, balsamic cream and some other things.  I get about 50 yards and have to readjust as the strap is cutting into my shoulder.  I spot a luggage store on the corner and walk directly to it, pick out a small bag on wheels and buy it on the spot.  The owner watches as I empty the shoulder bag contents into the new bag and then I give him the shoulder bag and tell him he can keep it.  I also gave him a bag of biscotti cookies.  He was delighted.  It was a good sale.

I make it to the train station and hop a train to Rome. The only tickets left are in first class so I go in style and even have a porter help me with my luggage.  I ride the rails on the high speed train, staring out at the country that I have come to love and say prayers of thanks for all the wonderful things that I have been able to see, and taste, and touch, and hear, and smell, and feel.  I know how lucky I am to have had this opportunity; I also know that I will return here again.  I must.   

When I arrive in Rome, I feel assaulted by the amount of people that surround me and the noise and the heat.  I can’t take it.  I find my little B&B by the station and have to shut myself off in my room in silence.   I feel sick and am curled up into a ball on the bed in a matter of minutes.  I think it is the stress of the day, the emotions, the re-entry into the masses of society, the noise, the commotion of the city and the stifling heat.  I am really sick for several hours and cannot leave my room.   It finally passes late in the evening and I was able to work on the blog.  I wonder if the same thing will happen when I get to America…  I’m hoping not, it would probably freak out my Mother.    

Maria called me around 11pm.  We struggle through the conversation but I get that she misses me, that Pina has been crying all day, that they all love their letters, and that many in town were talking about me today.  I tell her to let Pina know we spoke and that I am ok.  She is so funny, she thinks if she just speaks slower and louder that I will understand her.  We laughed and then said goodbye again…  The last thing she says is “Lean-da ritornare!!”  (return).  I say “si – si, si, si, si!!”  We say Ciao like 20 or 30 times and then hang up. 

9/6 –

The coffee at the B&B is awful.    It’s a coffee machine where you push the button for the kind you want. The cappuccino tastes like - - - well it tastes really lousy and cheap.   And the brioche is stale and glazed like a donut.  I don’t eat much nor do I even finish the coffee.  I stick to water and hope the Airport can offer a better selection. 

Luckily the airport has “real” Italian coffee and I get my fix before I have to board the plane.  Luckily for all of us on board, the plane is not very full so we all can spread out.  The entire tail section is empty.  I watch out the window as we fly out of Rome, then along the coast and then away from Italy.  My thoughts are of Semproniano, Pina, Aimone, Cinzia, Andrea, Maria, Moreno, and all the people.  I give thanks once again for all the wonderful gifts that have been showered upon me in my life, for all of them that have made this possible.  All have brought me to this moment.  All have allowed me to have this most awesome and wonderful adventure.   I am so grateful - - - so incredibly grateful…

Ciao Italia.  Grazie, grazie mille! 

Ti amo…

Semproniano 9/03 - 9/04

9/03 –

The weather report was wrong and it was a beautiful sunny day in Semproniano.   I took a walk this morning way out of town and explored the view from yet another angle.  I know by now you must be sick of all the pictures, but this is almost the last of my entries on this blog so stop complaining and just look…

After the walk, I thought about doing laundry and cleaning and packing but where’s the fun in that?  Instead I got cleaned up and spent some time with Cinzia in her club, having a few last great coffees, sharing some laughs and smiles.   Then I spent time with Pina in her kitchen.  Just sitting, watching, and being in her space.  Trying not to think too much about the next day or two as my (and Pina’s) emotions are close to the surface.   She makes me stay for lunch, lets me set AND clear the table – but I'm still not allowed to do the dishes.    Aimone excuses himself to go for his siesta and she asks me if I’d like some coffee.   So I stay.   She makes me a cup of café with the cappuccino machine that Mr. Pellegrini bought her several years ago.  She tells me the story about when he bought it.  She has told me this same story every time she has made me a café, but I don’t care.  I always pretend it is the first time I’ve heard it.  Afterwards I go back to Casa Pellegrini’s kitchen and continue to work on writing letters in Italian to Pina, Aimone, Maria and Cinzia.  I've put it off because it’s hard to do, emotionally, but I am running out of time so I have to work on them. 

I want to be out among the town and the people.  So I gather up my computer and paper and pen and head out with the intention of finding a table at Bar Sport to plant myself at for the afternoon.  Moreno is in front of the house with several other men and asks where I am going.   I tell him to Bar Sport.  He says they are closed today, some kind of holiday.   So I have to go to Cinzia’s club instead.   She is not there, she has a young guy who works the bar from 1-5 so she can take her siesta.  So I go in and plant myself at one of the two tables and in a few moments, all the men that were standing outside are now in the club.  They move the other table out into the middle of the floor and surround it with extra chairs and then four of them play a Bridge like card game while the rest of them watch. 

And there I sit, the only chick in the club, at my own table with my computer and writing in big block letters on my note pad.  They all acknowledge me.  One bought me a café and a little later another bought me a medium size beer (6oz or so).  But other than that, they don’t talk to me.   They are sitting less than 10 feet away from me and are talking about me, but not to me.  I hear one mention the Internet, another tells him I can’t connect in here only from the pizza restaurant, one asks another what I am writing, I hear one mention my departure date, another the date of my flight and Pennsylvania and then Chicago.   I look up at them sometimes and watch them and when they acknowledge me I smile – and they smile – and then they go back to their card game.   At one point a man comes into the club that I know from around town, he always teases me and pinches my cheek or pats my head.  He sees me and by the tone in his voice I know he is saying something about me being brave to be in there all by myself with the men.  He asks me what I am doing; I tell him I am writing letters in Italian for Pina and Aimone.  He asks how I can do that if I can’t read Italian.  I explain I used the Internet to translate my letters from English to Italian.  He says “Brava!  Brava Lean-da!!” and I get a pat on the head.  He then says something to the men about how smart I am and the good thing I am doing.  I got a lot more Brava’s from the group and then they go back to their card game and talk about me some more…  I’m not uncomfortable.  As a matter of fact I am completely relaxed being there with them and not understanding.    And they don’t seem to mind me being there either, so all is well.   

I finished three of the letters and decided to head back across the street to home.  I was just in time for Pina to open the door as she was coming to look for me.  She just heard that Bar Sport is closed today and was wondering where I was.  I told her I had been at Cinzia’s club all day with the men.  She say’s “Oh Madonna….”  She then tells me that she and Aimone want to take me to the pizza restaurant for happy hour.   I’m not one to miss such a great opportunity so I freshen up and we go.  There were eight people, including us, at happy hour.  It was rocking!  The pizza joint put out a nice spread of toasted breads with different olive oils and meats, a Capri salad and one pizza cut into 12 small slices.  That was what the crowd was waiting for and it was quickly gobbled up.   Aimone and Pina both had three or four slices.  Once the pizza was gone the happy hour came to a close, so we walked back home and had a very light dinner.  After all that pizza, they were pretty well stuffed…

I didn’t want to go back to Cinzia’s club, I’d spent enough time there during the day, so I just stayed with Pina in the kitchen and did what cleaning up I was allowed to do and watched her TV show with her.  Then I moseyed on back to my quarters and worked on Maria’s letter and one for Moreno as well.  But his is in English, thank goodness…

9/4 –

I made the right decision to goof off yesterday because today the rain is back.   So I start the day off figuring out what laundry I am going to do and what clothes I am throwing away.  Seriously – these clothes are dead!   I will use three of the worn out shirts to wrap the cheese in my luggage and my pair of cut up jeans to cushion the wine bottles.  I will put on the tan shorts, which have walked a few hundred miles, to clean the house and then will throw them away.  And I will also throw out the best pair of three-quarter length jeans ever.  They too have given their life to the trip as proven by the two, nope three, patches that they now proudly display.  

Cinzia’s club is closed this morning.  Pina tells me that in September, all the business change their hours and most close for one day of the week.  I’ve also noticed that there are not as many people in town – Pina says it is because the vacation month is over.   A few days ago, the headline on one of the daily papers actually was “Vacanza Finito” (vacation over).  

One of her girlfriends walks by the kitchen window and invites us to Bar Sport for a cafe, so off we go to chat with the chicks before I tackle all my household and packing chores.   We are the last to join a rousing table of the towns women, all of whom I have seen and interacted with many times during my stay.  They all tell me how sad they are that I am leaving, and ask when I will return.  It got emotional a few times.  Here again the lack of communication rips me apart but still they make me understand with the tone of their voices, their touches and their tears.  Oy…oy…oy…   Miranda, the Mama at Bar Sport (she and her two sons own it), makes my cappuccino herself to make sure it just perfect since she knows I won’t get them this good in America, and then she tells me – no charge.  She also makes me take home two slices of a lemon cake that she just baked.  She kisses and hugs me, thanks me for coming to town and to Bar Sport and asks me when I am returning.   I tell everyone one year, maybe two, and that I will be back in August.  “Sempre Agosto” (always August) I tell them and then say “per festival, ballare vecchio uomi” (for festival, to dance with old men).  This makes them laugh, but that is when I would return – because August is THE month and at least there are things to do in town during festival week… 

As we are leaving Bar Sport we run into Moreno, he is sitting at an outside table talking to woman in English.  Pina tells me to stay and talk English with them, she insists upon it.  So I sit for a bit and listen and contribute to their conversation on Politics among other things.   When it is time to go, I ask Moreno to come find me later in the afternoon as I’d like to talk to him one more time before I leave. 

After coffee it’s back home to do chores and I work like a mad women right up until shortly before 1pm – which is lunch time.  Pina is having pasta, so I will eat with them today.  She had some day (or two) old bread slices and I’ve got tomatoes to use up so I am in charge of making the bruschetta.  Both she and Aimone think it is my best yet.  It only took me one month to finally get it right…

I’m diligent in my chores and am finished, and packed, by 4pm.  Just in time for Maria to pop in for a last visit.  She wants to show me a neighboring town that she walks to but since it is rainy we take my car.  Once there, the rain let up a bit so walked around the town and walked to the highest point so we could see all the hills and valleys around us.  We talk to each other in our weird American/Italian language and I teach her a few more English words and she helps me with a few Italian ones.  All too soon we must go, she works all the time.  She cleans houses, and does all kinds of odd jobs around town, and she takes care of the people that she lives with.  She is always working, so this time we have had during the day is rare for her and I know she moved around her schedule to make it happen.  When we get back home, and before she runs off, I give her the letter I wrote.  When she sees that it is in Italian her month drops open.   I told her the Internet helped – she is amazed.  She then asks me for my cell number, I say why – I can’t talk to you, I don’t understand.  She doesn’t care, she says she will just call me tomorrow and say “ciao, ciao, ciao, ciao, ciao”.  So I give it to her.  We say our goodbyes and hug and promise to stay in touch and I promise to come back in August in one year maybe two…     

After she leaves it’s too quiet so I take a walk up to Bar Sport to sit and watch the rain and have a café or  a beer.   I see some of the town men there.  One of the older men here has been particularly nice to me and he asks me to sit as his table.  He always says hello to me, he always has a smile for me and he says a few words he knows that I can understand.  One of the guys in the group asks if I am leaving tomorrow, I say yes.   The older gentleman looks down at his hands in his lap and says quietly “mi dispiace” (I’m sorry).  He then has to go and I stand, take his hands in mine and kiss his cheeks as tears roll down mine.  He wipes away my tears and says “non bella, non”, and “ritornare” (return) and kisses my cheeks again.   I sit back in the chair and try not to turn into a weeping mess but failed for a few minutes.  Some of the other guys try to comfort me by saying nice things to me, at least I think that is what they were doing from the tone of their voices and the sadness in their eyes.   Moreno comes by Bar Sport a short time later and sees that I was crying and sits with me for a bit.   When he goes to leave I ask if I can walk him home and along the way we stop at Case Pellegrini so I can pick up the letter I have for him.  It was a really nice stroll – he is such a nice man and the gentleness of his voice soothes my bruised heart.   He too will be leaving Semproniano soon to go back to London to find a job and start a new adventure.  When we part, I give him the thank you letter and try not to let too many tears fall out of my eyes.   I tell him I will be back at Bar Sport later that night and he says he will come by as well and we’ll talk again. 

I go home in time for dinner and Pina has made a steak just for me while she and Aimone have left over chicken.  I insist they both have some of the huge steak she made for me and I think Aimone was really happy about that…  It was delicious.   I told them about my day, about the letters I wrote for Maria, Cinzia and Moreno.  I told them about the man at Bar Sport and things got a little heavy in the kitchen.  I toasted them, thanked them for the greatest month ever.  I told them I love them and that they are now my Italian Mother and Father.  They liked that.   We all hung out in the kitchen, leaving our dirty plates sit on the table for about a half hour before we started cleaning up.  It was then that I noticed that the TV wasn’t on.  Usually they have the news on during dinner.  But not tonight, tonight for a little while it was just the three of us…

After we clean up the kitchen, Aimone retires to the living room to watch a soccer game and Pina’s girlfriends come in for a visit.  I sit with them awhile until Pina tells me I need to go to Bar Sport so I can talk English with Moreno.   I ask the girls if they want to come along, they decline.  I think they are going to Emilia’s house to chat since they can’t sit outside tonight as it is rainy and cold. 

Pina had to bundle up before they left, it’s 64 degrees out there…

They walk me to Bar Sport and I buy a drink for myself and for Ricardo and Silvia, the owners of the Tabacci shop.  My last night in town and I finally know their names.   Moreno comes by later in the evening, buys me a café and then tells me stories of his life.  I catch most of it but then I get lost in the rhythm of his voice, the kindness of his eyes, and in the thought that I won’t see him tomorrow...  That I won’t see most of the towns people tomorrow and some never again…  We part once again, saying good bye for the 2^nd time today with the promise to keep in touch.

*************

I am writing this entry from my tiny hotel room in Rome, near the train station.  I fly home to America tomorrow.  You’ll understand when I say that I am very sad right now and can’t write anymore for tonight…  I will post an entry about my last day in Italy and some final thoughts in a few days once I am back on American soil and the jet lag is out of my system.   Grazie mio amores. 

Ciao… 

Semproniano 9/1 - 9/2

9/1 –

I took a walk this morning with the intention of making it a power walk. I stopped to look at the time and temp sign outside the grocery store and I stare at the date:1 9.  In Italy they put the day first and then the month, which I think makes more sense that the month, day format.  I mean you usually don’t ask people “what month is it”, the most common question is “what’s today’s date”, and so it makes sense to me to list the date of the day first.  But, I digress…

All I can see is that it is the first day of September.  I leave here on the morning of September 5^th.  I am bored out of my skull and lonely for friends and English and yet my heart is breaking at the thought of leaving here.   I set out for the walk but it turned out to be a stroll along with tears flowing like the mighty Mississippi for reasons I can neither explain nor understand.   I took lots of photos for my memory banks, here are just a few.

A pear tree – that grows tiny, delicious, little pears.

A fig tree growing next to a parking lot.

A olive tree. 

Fancy hedge work

 Grapevine and more figs.

My Internet office.

My Internet office view. 

I stopped by Cinzia’s club for café and she could see that I was a little down so she gave me a happy cappuccino…

I’ve gotten into the habit of buying Aimone’s newspaper every morning at the Tabacchi shop.  I can barely speak to these people but they seem happy to see me every day and hand me the paper before I can reach for it. And if the top one looks a little worn, they pull a fresher one from the middle of the stack.   I make sure to always have correct change to make the transaction as smooth as possible.  Today when I hand my money to the young guy behind the counter, he looks at me and says “bene?” (ok?)  He’s never said anything to me before other than ‘ciao’.   It threw me and I have to swallow just to find my breath.  I forced a smile and said “Si – si, si, si, si…  Grazie.  Ciao. ”       

It’s in the mid 60’s today, a big change from the 90+ temps of last week and everyone is bundled up like it is winter.  I watch the young couple across the street step out of their casa wearing heavy sweat shirts and jackets and assume they are going some where on a day trip.  Nope, they are just walking up to Bar Sport which is about a 50 yard hike.  I sit on the kitchen balcony and watch as the people walk by, some are wearing coats, hats and scarves.   I smile to myself thinking they would never survive a Chicago winter…

I hear commotion coming from Pina’s kitchen so I go to investigate and find her and Emilia making a tart.  I don’t know if they call it a tart, but that is the best way I know to describe it.  It’s for our lunch and is filled with ground green beans and cooked ground meat.  Yea, I thought that too – but I’ve had it once before and it is out of this world delicious.  (another taste bud miracle)  I asked if I could watch and photo the session and they said yes.  I so enjoyed just watching them together that I decided to actually film most of the activity, so I don’t have many still photos to share.    

The filling is ground green beans along with a cooked potato, the cooked meat, a little salt, parmesan cheese and eggs.

The pastry is made from flour, water, salt and olive oil.  Pina says it is like pizza dough.

The kitchen got a little crowded when Maria and Aimone’s sister both stopped in for a quick visit; Aimone’s brother-in-law is standing outside, talking through the screen in the kitchen window.  And as I witness the interaction between of all of them, I have the thought that these are the moments I want to remember most - the moments in Pina’s Kitchen. 

Everything happens here.  Days start and end here.  Family and friends find comfort here.  Fantastic simple dishes are created here.   The activity is nonstop.  Even when the town is at rest, something is always happening in Pina’s kitchen.  Whether it’s shelling beans, making salsa, making coffee, cleaning zucchini, making pesto, cooking food for 8pm’s dinner at 4pm, refilling the wine bottles, washing dishes, talking with girlfriends, refilling the olive oil bottles, yelling to the butcher across the street from the kitchen window and having food from the butcher or the bakery delivered via the kitchen window – something is always in motion here.   It is one of my favorite places to be…

Maria comes by in the afternoon for a visit and brings me a one-liter water bottle full of homemade red wine.  It is, by far, better than the bottle that I bought from the store earlier this week.    It’s stronger too.  This is the wine I wish I could take back to America but it would never make it through customs, so I just have to drink it here.  Darn it…    Maria and I have a small (poco) glass as she wants me to take a walk with her.  She tells me I look good in my Rome jeans, I tell her I can’t breathe.  She laughs and “Oh Madonna” and that I still look good.   We take off out of town, pass the cemetery, pass the road to Sartunia and kept walking.  We figured out ways to communicate and talked and talked and talked.  Sometimes it was just a one word statement with lots of pointing and body language, but it worked and it was one of the best conversations I have had in town.   I don’t know how far we walked.  It was almost a full two hours from the time we left until we got back.  Maria asked if could breathe better, I said yes but now I can’t walk.  Again she laughs.  She gets me home just in time for dinner and takes the heat from Pina when she goes on and on about the time.  Maria just keeps teasing Pina until Pina breaks into a laugh and then kicks her out of the kitchen.   Then she flirts with Aimone and makes him smile as well.   She tells me she will see me tomorrow then leaves, then comes back just to give me a hug and say thank you.  After she is gone again, Pina says Maria will be sad when I leave.  I tell her I will be too.  Pina’s eyes tear up so I shower her cheeks with kisses until she laughs.

After dinner tonight, I clear the table, putting everything back in its proper place in the kitchen and pantry and even rinse the dishes before Pina finally tells me to stop.  She tells me to sit and watch TV with her for a while in the kitchen.  It’s a strange show that she watches every night after the news.  It’s kind of like a variety show but it’s just a bunch of clips from previous shows.  No new shows, just clip after clip after clip of old performances, some go back to the 60’s.  Every once in a while there is an American performer on it and Pina always points out when English is spoken or sung.  It is funny to watch as Italy has had similar performers to the American counter parts.  In the late 60’s there is a married couple singing together – just like Sonny and Cher.  There’s another clip of a man singing an old love song, while sipping on a cocktail and another guy trying to steal the spotlight by acting funny – just like Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis.  And there’s a woman who acts and sounds like Barbara Streisand, and it goes on and on.   It’s like they mirrored the American performs at the same time, looking like them, performing is the same way and some even sounding like them – just in Italian.   The name of the show sounds like “a-tick-a-tick-a-tick”.  Seriously.  It’s funny when, at the end of the news broadcast, the newscaster says (in Italian of course) to stay tuned for a-tick-a-tick-a-tick.    After we sit for about an hour, she kicks me out of the kitchen so she can do dishes and I can do whatever I do.   So I came back here and worked on this and then turned in early as I am dog tired from this afternoon’s walk.

9/2 –

Oh no, it’s raining and cold out.  Egads!!!  I had coffee at Bar Sport, picked up Aimone’s newspaper and then I sit at the kitchen table and look out the window watching it rain.  I can’t even open the window because it’s only in the mid 50’s this morning and Pina can feel the draft when I do.  The woman’s got draft radar.  If it is cold out and a window is even cracked open, she knows…  Lucky for both Aimone and I, there is no thunder today, just rain.  Aimone tells me it is going to rain all day long and tomorrow doesn’t look good either.  Oh yippee.

After church, Pina had a feast of a meal and Emilia and her son Giulio joined us.  I believe he is in his early 40’s.  He is a very handsome Italian man with dark curly hair, big beautiful brown eyes and a scruffy beard.   He is quick to smile and my ears jump to attention when he asks me a question in perfect English.  ENGLISH!!!  GLORY BE HE SPEAKS ENGLISH!!!   He is professional photographer and lives in Rome.   Pina tells him he has to talk English to me – she is so funny.    As we all hang out in the kitchen, he and I talk a bit and at one point Pina tells him that all this English is confusing and she can’t understand anything of what we are saying.  Um HELLO!   Welcome to Lindaville!  I tell him I can understand a good amount of what she says to me when we are alone but when in a group situation it is much harder.  He tells me she uses a lot of words and it is hard for him to understand her and he’s Italian!  He says she talks too fast and she ‘eats her words’.   I’m not sure what that means, but I like it.     

We sit next to each other at the dinner table, in the English Spoken Here section, and he translates things for me throughout the meal.  He has a great Italian male profile - great alignment of his forehead, nose and chin.  I think to myself that if I could draw, I would draw that profile.     

For you foodies out there, today’s courses are:

1. Fresh pasta with ragu (meat) sauce.
2. Some kind of roast, I think it was fillet minon – it was pancetta (bacon) wrapped around bread and the fillet was inside of the bread.  Served with roasted potatoes and salad.
3.  Fruit.
4.  Pastry.

Back to the translating – as I suspected the women talk a lot about food.  Giulio is laughing at one point and tells me that Pina and Emilia are talking about a restaurant and Pina asked Emilia when she went there the first time, what she had, what did she have the second time, was it as good as the first time, what was her favorite, etc., etc., etc.  I tell him that after breakfast, she asks me about lunch, at lunch we talk about dinner, at dinner she asks me about food for the next day.  I tell him that I already know that I am to cook zucchini for Monday night’s dinner, which we talked about it during last night’s meal.   I refer to Pina as the Mayor of Semproniano and Giulio tells me she is known in these parts for being a talker.   I tell him that Aimone barely speaks, he said ‘yes, but when he does he uses only as many words as needed.’   He is exactly right.   We laughed a lot at dinner.  At one point after course two but before course three Giulio laughed because he heard his Mom mumbled something to herself about what she was going to cook for dinner that evening.  He says this is just the Italian way.  

I tell him about the blog and about the stuff I’ve been writing, I mention the salsa pictures and Pina eyes perk up.  She understands that I am talking about my writing and the internet and she tells him that I took photos of the two of them making the tart yesterday.  I told him I didn’t really take photos, that I recorded a film and I asked him to explain that to Pina and Emilia.  He did so and then asked if he could see it.  So I got my computer and showed them all the 30 or so minutes of filming.  Giulio loves it and wants me to put it on YouTube.  He said it is a real Italian kitchen and people would like it.  He laughed several times, as did his Mom and Pina at what was said, their physical movements, and Pina’s entertaining way.  He asked I send it him as well.  I told him I need the recipe to post with it and he told me he will translate it for me and email it.  He complemented me on my film making and I showed him some of the other photos from town.  Some of which he said were very good.  I took this has a tremendous compliment.  This is the first camera I have owned in years and I rarely have my glasses on when taking photos so I’m not sure if they are good until I review them later. 

It’s after 4p when they leave; we sat down to lunch around 1:15…  Giulio and I exchange emails and I give him the blog address, promise to send him the tart making videos and they are off.   I try to help Pina clean up but, of course, am shooed away.  So it is back to my kitchen table to work on this entry and stare out the window and watch the rain.

                                                                                                                           

Please be sunny tomorrow – please be sunny tomorrow – oh please, oh please, oh please, oh please be sunny tomorrow… 

-News flash -

Pedro has decided not to return to America.  He is staying in Semproniano.    Turns out he’s got family here and they have a very nice place to hang out on the top of the bathroom mirror in Casa Pellegrini.

I can’t blame him.  It’s a great spot in a nice home, his family is here, they have a cactus plant and it’s a short ride to the toilet… What more could a plastic man and his plastic burro ask for?

I’m grateful for him being with me on the trip.  He has been a great companion as he has helped me to break the ice with people on more than one occasion.  And when one starts getting overly lonely and is feeling sorry for oneself, it’s amazing how a little plastic man on a little plastic burro can cheer one up… 

Here are just a few photos of my little friend.

Rome

Rosello

 Siracusa, Sicily

 Agrigento, Sicily

Aci Trezza, Sicily

Semproniano

Marina di Grosseto

Siena, my birthday

Pisa

Lucca

Vernazza

 Venice

Padova

Assisi 

Sorrento

Positano

Florence

Pitigliano

Arrivederci mio amico – e grazie mille…

Ciao - ciao, ciao, ciao, ciao.

Semproniano 8/29 - 8/31

8/29 -

I’m up again at 7am.  No matter what I do, I can’t stay asleep any longer and I actually have a sense of urgency to get out of bed and get dressed to face the day.  Soon I’m all cleaned up and ready - - but for what, I don’t know.  I’ve got nothing to do!  So I keep myself busy around the house for a while, cleaning out the fridge, gathering up trash and then made some breakfast.  After all that activity, I picked up my PC and walked up the steps to the bench outside the pizza restaurant to connect to the Internet and update my blog. 

This confuses some of the townspeople because the pizza restaurant is closed, so they think the Internet is closed.   I tell them that the Internet never closes but that is hard for them to understand.   I don’t think the restaurant owners understand it either.  They have come by at different times when the restaurant is closed; they see me sitting there and see that I am on the Internet.   They stare at my computer and talk to each other about it.  It made me self-conscious at first but I got over that.  I figured if they ask me, I’ll try to explain it to them as well and I will gladly give them money for using the their Internet connection.   But, they don’t ask…

After hanging out on line for a few hours, I head home for some lunch and then it’s back out to the bench to watch people go by. 

I got bored, and it was hot, and I wanted a beer so I take a walk up the street to Bar Sport. It’s not a bar like an American bar; it is more of a gathering place.  They serve coffee, beer, gelato, brioche, and simple panini’s.   Most of the people drink coffee or nothing at all.  People sit here for hours on end talking about everything and never buy anything.  The owners don’t seem to mind.  

A view from one of my many tables at Bar Sport

I put my computer case on an empty table and step inside to get a beer.  I order a large which causes a few heads to turn in my direction.  No one else is drinking beer at 3pm and when they do, they order small ones and usually end up drinking more than one.  Which makes no sense to me as the large is twice the size but only one euro more.   I carry my beer back outside, passing Moreno sitting at a table with some of the locals.  I say hello and sit at my table.  He calls over to me and asks me to join him at their table.  I am grateful for the invitation.  Although I have made friends in town and do feel comfortable, I still feel like such an outsider as I exist in my own little ‘can’t speak-can’t understand Italian’ club.  I don’t want to intrude but I so want to be a part of the group.   Moreno makes me feel welcome- as they all do - but he is the only one that invites me to join in probably because I can actually communicate with him.  He pulls me into the conversation and tells me what they are talking about and translates some things for me so I can contribute if I want to.  I am so thankful that he is here and for his acceptance and friendship.   I want to follow him around all day long so I would have someone who I could actually talk to and understand all the time.   

I love the Italian language, but I miss English…  I miss understanding what is going on around me.  I am tired of being on the outside and it is driving me a little crazy.  I want back in…

All too soon Moreno has to go and the crowd at the table also leaves.  I stick around anyway, sitting and nursing my beer.  After a bit some of the guys I have come to know from Cinzia’s club stop by and join me along with some other townsmen.  Before long I realize that I am the only women sitting with about 10 guys.  Some are drinking beer, some coffee, but all are talking and at times try to pull me into the conversation.  They, like everyone in town, are very patient and use a lot of gestures to help me understand.  Mostly they ask when I’m going back to America, where I am going in America, if I’m having a good time here, where I have been, where I like best, if I like it here, and when I will come back.  I continuously apologize for not understanding or speaking well and all assure me that no apology is needed.  They tell me all is well and they complement me for all the traveling I have done in Italy and all on my own.     

I can see the front door of Casa Pellegrini from Bar Sport and around 6:00p I see Pina step outside and I hear her say my name.  She is asking the gang hanging around Cinzia’s club if they know where I am, so I say “Ciao” to the boys and go home.  Pina is thinking about dinner and wanted to know if I like beefsteak.   I say yes, she asks about my day and then ask me to sit on the bench and relax with her and Aimone.     

The sun is directly hitting the benches and neither Pina nor Aimone like that so I get chairs for us from inside the house and set them up on the opposite side of the street in the shade. 

We sit there for about an hour, again watching the town go by but now from a different angle…  From here we could see and be entertained by the men that gather with Mauro at the gas station for their daily ‘sit and chat’ session.

At dinner, the beefsteak turned out to be a pork chop.  She kept referring to it as beefsteak and I didn’t argue.  It, like everything she cooks, is delicious.  She also made me some bean soup, knowing how much I like it and gave me the recipe.  Well, I get most of it anyway…   Wash the beans, cook them in a pot with just enough water to cover them, grind carrot, celery, a potato, rosemary and add to the mix.  Remove the seeds from five very small (the size of a big grape) tomatoes, add them to the mix along with salt and pepper.   Cook until the beans are soft then grind with that hand held grinder thing in the pot, then put through a mill to remove the tomato and bean skins and to make the soup smooth.  I don’t know what kind of beans they are or if I can get them in America, but this is what they look like:

While I was Internet surfing earlier today, I checked the US Customs site and found that I am not allowed to bring back any meat products.  I had picked up some in Pitigliano and thought about chancing it, but I have other things I am bringing home and don’t want to run the risk of making a custom agent angry enough to take everything.   So after dinner, I present the bag of meats to Pina and Aimone, explaining I can’t take them home so I want them to have them.  By their reaction you would think I just gave them a new car or something.  Pina then pulls vacuum sealed cheese packages out of her fridge and gave them to me to take to America.  She tells me I have to hide them in my luggage so no one takes them.  I tell her cheese is OK and I don’t have to hide it, she insists that I must hide it – so I tell her I will.  She also tells me she ordered Pecorino cheese from Christina (the baker) and it will be ready before I leave.  And she tells me that I need to get pasta and olive oil and Nutella and…   I’m thinking I may need to buy another piece of luggage…     

8/30 –

It’s Thursday – my last Thursday in Semproniano, my last market day…  Before I hit the market, I stop at Cinzia’s for my morning café.  I notice she has a new sign posted.

 

Translation: 

One coffee – 2.00

One coffee, please – 1.50

Good day, one coffee, please - .70

It’s 9am and I look for Pina and Aimone to see if they are ready to go the market but don’t find them in the house.  I see that Pina has gotten an early start to her day and has already started working on a fresh batch of salsa.  Annedia has picked more tomatoes from her garden…  I step out onto my kitchen balcony just in time to see them returning from the market with their weekly haul. 

As I am standing on the porch, Moreno steps out of the Tabacchi store across the street with his newspaper, looks up and says “Hello Juliet”.      

I walk the market and buy some produce for my last few days here.  The man at the produce stand remembers me, he is a very nice man.  I point to what I want and try to say it, if I am correct he says ‘brava’, if I mispronounce it he corrects me – I repeat it – and again he says ‘brava’.   When I am done and pay my tab, he says in very slow English “see you next week”.   I tell him no, that I go home to America next Thursday.  He frowns, offers his hand, shakes mine and then kisses it.  He thanks me, wishes me a good journey and tells me to come back soon.   I feel tears collecting in my eyes but tell them they are not allowed to fall out… 

I take my stuff back to the house and am unpacking my bags when I hear Maria’s laughter coming from the street below.  I step out onto the kitchen balcony; she sees me and yells to me to come down to walk the market with her.   I say “uno momento” and off I go again. 

Maria

I ended up buying a bag for the trip home.  As I am telling Maria it is for olive oil, pasta, vino and cheese, Moreno walks up and says’ ”and? and? and?”  I say “e lei?” (and you?) He responses “yes.”  Maria says “me too”.  I think I’m going to need a bigger bag… 

Maria & Pina talking in Pina’s kitchen

I spent another afternoon sitting at Bar Sport, watching the day and the people go by.   But this time I worked on my computer, writing some of this posting and I get a lot of stares while doing so.  I hear some of the girls at a table close by talking about WIFI and too much texting and Facebook.   I know them and I interject that in America lots of people don’t talk face to face much anymore. They are too busy texting, checking their email and Facebook.  The girls think it is just terrible.   They ask if I am on the Internet, I tell them no, that I am writing stories about my time in Italy but I put them on the internet for my friends and family to read.  I’m not sure they understood that, but they respond “va bene” anyway.    

Pina’s friend Emily walks by Bar Sport and tells me Pina is looking for me so I say “Ciao” to the crowd and head home.  Pina and Aimone are cleaning beans they got at the market so they can freeze them for later.  Once again I can’t help, but she tells I can watch if I want to and take photos for America.  So this is for you, America.

First they remove the beans from their shells

Then Pina washing them and spreads them on a cloth and dries them.

Then they put them in plastic bags for the freezer.

She doesn’t blanch them at all, just puts them directly into the bags and then into the freezer.  And then she told me of all the different ways she will prepare them later in the year including telling me the soup recipe again.  As they finish up, Pina tells me she and Aimone are going to see his sister and asks if I’d like to come along.  I say yes and take a few moments to freshen up after filming the bean documentary.   Pina packs a bag full of food gifts and two sweaters for herself and one for Aimone.  She tells me to bring one to because it is very cold where Aimone’s sister lives.   We stop at Mauro’s gas station so Aimone can fill the tank before we go.  With all this preparation I assume it is a going to be a bit of a journey – the drive was all of 15 minutes to a neighboring town.   We stayed just long enough for Pina to give them the contents of the bag and then we drove home again.  As we were walking back to the house from the car, several people stopped us to ask how the trip was…  Every little thing you do here is news and soon everyone in town knows all about it. 

We had dinner at the pizza restaurant tonight.   Pina remembered me saying I wanted to go back to get the one with the zucchini flowers.  She even reminded me to grab my camera before we leave the house.    We are joined for dinner by Emily, Annedia and her husband and another couple that I had not met before. 

Here is a photo of my pizza pie

It’s baked with mozzarella cheese, a few pieces of anchovies and a few very thin slices of zucchini.  Then when taken out of the oven, the raw zucchini flowers are added around pie.   Delicious!  

    

Pina is, as always, the center of attention and I’m pretty sure she talked non-stop for over two hours.   She allows others to get a few words in but then she takes over again.  Her friends don’t seem to mind but I do see some eye-rolling and hidden smiles from time to time, especially when Pina asks everyone why she is always the last one to finish her food… 

Here are two photos of desert items – the first is the restaurant’s version of Crème Brule, which is brought to the table on fire and the second is a pear cooked in red wine mixed with pear juice and cooked into thick syrup.   Oh Madonna….  

Note the tiny knife…  I told you they use tiny utensils and glasses and stuff here…

After dinner the group broke up, Aimone went in the house and watched TV, Pina sat with her girlfriends on the bench in the plaza and I did three laps around town.  That’s how many it took to make my jeans feel comfortable again…

8/31 –

Today is a cold and rainy day but I still took a walk around town with the memory of last night’s dinner and the lingering snugness of my clothes.  I have got me some work to do when this sabbatical thing is over.   Although I walked across most of Italy prior to Semproniano, here I have become a lazy old lady and I am paying the price.  I miss feeling strong and fit and having muscles and being able to breathe when wearing my jeans…   I am trying not to get down on myself about it, but it is hard to do when surrounded every day by incredibly beautiful and mostly physically fit Italian women and men.   I think they all must meet somewhere in secret and have massive workout sessions as I never see them running or even walking fast, just strolling around town a couple of times a day.  Yet the majority of the townspeople, including many of the older men and women, have clearly visible muscle definition in their arms, abs and legs.  Mama Mia!   They go through a lot of bread, pasta and olive oil and most are smokers - so it’s got to be something in their DNA or their coffee…   I don’t know, but I hope that maybe if I get another shot at life (I like to believe that God is into recycling) that I can come back as an Italian, but a non-smoking one.     

As I am nearing home, I see Mauro and he waves me into Cinzia’s club so he can buy me a café.   After he leaves, another elderly man from town buys me a second cup and a third offers but I have to turn him down, he says he will buy tomorrow.  Then another elderly dude gives me a bag of figs picked fresh this morning.  If I were into elderly men with barely any teeth, I could rock this town…

I get back home just before a downpour hits and help Aimone batten down the hatches.  I found that when it rains, there is really NOTHING AT ALL to do.  People don’t go out, not even to Bar Sport.  It rains off and on all day long.  When it’s not raining, I help Aimone open the windows, when it starts to rain, we shut them again.  Good grief!  Please be sunny tomorrow – please be sunny tomorrow – please be sunny tomorrow – please be sunny tomorrow…

When there are breaks in the storm, people hit the streets and I join them by standing on the kitchen balcony.  Every time I am out here, someone looks up and says “Ciao” or “Ciao Lean-da”.    It makes me feel so good.    When the rain comes back everybody disappears again.   I spend most of the day typing, playing solitaire, listening to my IPOD and practicing some songs that I would like to try with my friend (and piano playing goddess) Stephanie when I return to Chicago.  I don’t like rainy days in Semproniano, I miss seeing everybody…

Pina calls for me a bit later in the afternoon, it’s thundering in the distance and she is getting nervous.  You can clearly see by the cloud formation in the sky that it is not coming anywhere near us but she wants me to turn off my computer and unplug things just in case.   And I will probably have to close the windows…  Oh Madonna.   

For dinner tonight she made the bean soup again but this time she used chickpeas.  Chickpeas?  I hate chickpeas, I know that for a fact.   Yet the clouds part and the heavenly angels sing as  another miracle occurs in Pina’s kitchen and I find that I love her chickpea soup.   What is going on?!?!  How is this possible?  I have never liked chickpeas!  But here I am eating delicious, creamy chickpea soup.   She makes me promise that I will make the soup for myself in America and we go over the same recipe again to make sure I understand it.  She tells me if it doesn’t turn out good the first time to keep trying until I figure it out and that I must write to her to tell her if I still like it in America.  I promise her that I will.

I have composed letters to both Pina and Aimone and used Google Translate for the Italian translation.  Now I am writing them in long hand, using capital letters so there is no confusion with the letters.  I feel like a first grader practicing their printing.  I hope Google Translate is accurate and that I am not saying anything offensive.  Oy, oy, oy…

Tonight I take another two laps around the town when the rain lets up for a bit and then it is off to bed, but first I stand at my bedroom window and look up at the almost full moon as it plays hide and seek with the storm clouds.  It will be completely full on Monday night.   I remember that there was a full moon the last night of the 2006 Italy trip as well.  Everything comes back to where it once began...