5/23 –
Once again Pamm is away first thing in the morning to her
meeting in Grosseto. It’s a little of an hour’s drive and she hope to be back
early this afternoon so we can take a quick ride over to Saturnia to lounge in
its natural sulfurous hot springs.
I come down to find Marilee is busy tending the fire and
working on her latest knitting project – socks.
I tell her I am off to the bakery to pick up some breakfast goodies
and when I get back we will go for cappuccinos at Bar Sport. I step out the front door and take a long look
up and down the street before I begin the 10 second walk to the bakery. I notice a very stunning Italian woman on the
other side of the one lane street and I say buon journo. She sees that I have just exited the
Pellegrini house and replies back to me the same. She then walks across the street and greets
me with the air kisses on both cheeks, and then takes my face in her hands and tells
me I am beautiful… She air kisses my
cheeks again, say’s buon journo and walks away. It is a weird, yet very lovely moment. I look to my right and see Mauro standing at
the gas pump – he throws me a kiss and says something I don’t understand. I smile, wave and think ‘this is going to be
a great day’ as I make my way to the bakery.
I walk inside and there is a crowd. By crowd I’m talking 3 people, but the place
is really small so that is a crowd. I
have no idea where to stand, do I take a number, what… All the while I am very conscious of being looked
up and down by all these new faces. Where
are my friends from the grocery store? Where
is my new friend from the street? Egads,
it’s my turn. I say good morning to the
baker and point to the things I would like.
I apologize for my bad Italian, her face softens – these words are
magical! As she is putting my things in
a bag, I go into my routine of telling her my name and explain that I am staying
at the Pellegrini house and WAMMO – again the break through happens and the
baker is shaking my hand and smiling.
She also starts going a mile a minute in Italian, I apologize and smile,
and she pats my hand, says “it’s OK”, smiles and says Grazie. The other new faces in the bakery also soften
and I get smiles all around.
Marilee and I have a bit of breakfast and I tell her I saw
cheese and salami in the baker’s display case but I got distracted that I forgot
to ask about it. No worries, we will go
back after Bar Sport and spread more money around. Which
we did, and it was another positive and fun experience. We start to see the exact same women in every
store we go into. Are they are following
us or we are following them – either way we feel as if we are really becoming a
part of the town because now they are at least smiling and acknowledging our
presence.
A little later, Marilee said we are out of plastic
wrap. There is a kind of convenience
store next door to Casa Pellegrini that I haven’t been into yet so I take this
opportunity to visit it now.
I walk in, say buon journo and commence my search for
plastic wrap. I don’t see it
anywhere. I ask the clerk/owner if she
speaks English – “Non”. I apologize,
introduce myself, tell her I’m Pamm’s friend, etc. Which is all well and good and gets a warm
response, but I still need plastic wrap... I apologize again as I try to figure out how
to tell her what I want. She is staring at me intensely, wanting to understand
as much I as want to be able to communicate.
I hold up my finger as if to say “wait”.
I picked up a pack of bar soap
and point to the plastic wrap on the outside.
Then I picked up a bowl and put it on the counter. Then I picked up a magazine she had been
reading, open it and put it on top of the bowl – then I point to the plastic
around the bar of soap again. AHA!! She claps her hands, jumps up out of her seat
and maneuvers like an Olympic speed skater to a hidden shelf behind the door
where she grabs a box of plastic wrap. “Si?”
she says with a huge expression on her face.
“Si!!” I reply. It’s a glorious moment! We actually hug each other and laugh. We didn't solve world peace, but we have
found a way to communicate and we are rejoicing! From
that moment on, we are friends. Every
time I see her in town, which is a lot because she is right next door and it’s
a very small town, she yells “Ciao” and waves.
I love this place…
Pamm got back early so we have a little lunch and decide to
go to Saturnia for a short visit. She
has another meeting, but this one in is in town and will be her last of the
trip. On our way out of town, we passed
a couple and I said “that guy looks familiar”, rather his outfit did. Pamm sees that it is Beatrice, the woman who
was the assistance Chef during our 2006 cooking trip. Her husband, the man I recognized, was
wearing a similar (if not the same) outfit that I remember him wearing in
2006. So we pull over, jump out and exchange
hugs and kisses. What a treat to see
them. As we drive off, I wonder is it possible that he is actually wearing the
same outfit as in 2006? If so, it’s damn good material…
We have less than 2 hours to soak. These people treat it more like a beach than
a natural spring and we decide that we must come here again before we
leave. We stayed too long and Pamm didn’t have time
to shower before her meeting, so she went ‘stinky’. Nobody cared…
All you have to say is “Saturnia” and all respond “ahhhh…” They know – oh they know indeed.
We then had another stellar dinner created by Marilee with
Pamm’s assistance –my job was to get more firewood and set the table.
Pamm and I took a walk to Bar Sport later that night and
proceed to drink all their booze. The Vodka bottle has about a ¼ of the juice
left in it and since that is my drink of choice, Pamm let me have it. We asked for Tequila – “Non, out”. Gin – “Non, out”. So Pamm drank some kind of whiskey concoction
while I finished up the last of their Vodka.
Those crazy American women – such drinkers!
5/24 –
Marilee and I start the day our normal way, cappuccinos at
Bar Sport and bring home a pastry for Pamm.
A note here about Italy and their cappuccinos - a true
cappuccino is not served in plastic cup, nor are their different sizes to
choose from and there are no ‘to-go’ cups.
There is one size – it’s a small
china cup (and saucer) that is about half the size of a standard American
coffee cup. First the coffee is poured
into the cup and then hot steamed milk is added to it with the steamed milk
foam places delicately on top. A good
cappuccino server can get fancy with the way they place the foam on top which
results in a pretty design. Usually
people stand at the bar and drink them.
Some choose to carry them out to a table and sit like Marilee and I do. Most bars will charge you a little more if a
waiter brings the coffee to you. It
takes 4 or 5 sips to down the entire drink.
This is not a drink you linger over;
it’s meant to be drunk fast at the counter or within a few minutes at the
table. A cup here cost 1.20 euro, in Rome I paid 3.50
euro. I usually have 2 in the morning
and stop for another in the afternoon.
I’ve also been told that only “foreigners” drink cappuccinos in the
afternoon, Italians drink espresso – which is the exact same drink except
without the milk and foam. I wonder if I
could make a go of a business like this in American. Starbucks is American made. If I were to open a cappuccino bar, it would
be 100% Italian style.
We spend the day relaxing together, hanging out in town and
doing laundry. As we are working in the
kitchen, I hear a racket on the street – its street market day! We head out to explore the bargains and made
some we made some good buys; I picked up a new shirt and a pair of sweat pants
for lounging in my future hotel and B&B rooms. Why I continue to buy clothes I don’t know as my
suitcase is overstuffed already… Pamm
proceeds to check out the T-shirt stock.
Italian people and T-shirts, I’m not quite sure how to
explain it. They buy shirts that have a
bunch of English words on them, but rarely do the words make any sense. I wish I had pictures to show you, but I
don’t want to be rude and take a photo of some ones odd shirt. But I’ve seen it in Rome, Sicily, Semproniano
and now Siena. Pamm saw a guy, an adult, in Sicily wearing
one that said ‘I Love My Babysitter’.
Here is a busy one that we found at the street market.
We stumbled upon a seafood stand that had the smallest clams
I have ever seen. Most are only the size
of the fingernail on my thumb! I buy a
bag for us to enjoy later, 4 euros.
We head back to the house with our treasures and to do so
some laundry. There is a washer at Casa
Pellegrini, but it takes a Masters degree in Engineering to figure it out. Mr. Pellegrini had written instructions of
the intricate steps to follow to just turn the thing on. First you had to turn off the hot water, then
you had to turn off the water value to the sink, then disconnect that and turn
on this knob, then hit this button, then do the hokey pokey and turn yourself
around… etc… We ask the man next door
if he can help, he takes a look but can’t figure it out – he sends his wife
over because she does the laundry and she can’t figure it out either. Marilee decides to take on the challenge and
gets it to working, but after an hour we notice that the dial has not moved and
her clothes are going through the wash cycle over and over and over again. Marilee has to monitor the washer and move
the manually move the dial to get it to work through the process. Pamm is ready to throw it out on the street. If you’re looking for a washer, I know when
you can get one for free… No dryer
though, the majority of households do not have dryers over here – just clothes
lines. And if it’s raining out or if
it’s too cold, they string the line somewhere in the house. Which got me to thinking; maybe I could start
a kind of laundry mat here in town and bring over 4 industrial size American clothes
dryers. I could serve beer and have
Soccer on TV and call it ‘Suds and Duds’.
I was in a place like that in North Carolina many years ago. I thought it was a brilliant idea back then
and still do. You have to do laundry
anyway, why not have a comfy seat and a beverage while you wait?
After will build up a hunger doing all of our chores, Pamm
and I set out to cooking the precious little clams we bought at the market.
Pedro gets in on the action too!
Thank you clams, for providing our taste buds and bellies
with so much pleasure! We counted the
casualties afterwards – 250 clams - for 4 euros. Have I mentioned how much I love this town?
5/25 –
After we start out our day the normal way, pastries and
cappuccinos, we get ready for a big outing.
Today is spa day. We change into
our bathing outfits, pack our cooler and set off to Saturnia. We claim our spot and then spend the day
relaxing, getting some rays and allow the water to wash away our stress. Saturnia is a natural hot spring that has
been in existence for centuries. There
is a fancy spa nearby that uses the same water supply; but we prefer to go to
the free public area. The water smells a little like rotten eggs
because of the sulfur in it and it’s around 95 degrees. You get used to the smell while you’re in it
because of how great it makes your body feel – however, whatever outfit you
wear in the water will never really lose the smell no matter how many times you
wash it. So you’ll need to pick out an
outfit you don’t mind giving up to the stinky water. I now have a Saturnia outfit that I keep in
its own separate sealed bag (the smell will creep out otherwise) that I will
wear every time I go there.
Everyone is welcome here, animals included. We saw a few dogs accompanying their owners
into the spring. I thought that was
weird as they would surely hold onto that stink for a long time… We also saw some turtles swimming and sunning
themselves in the lower area down from the waterfalls. This was very surprising, I would think at 95
degrees they would be turning into turtle soup but these little guys didn’t
seem to mind the heat. Marilee has brought along a copy of the Hummelstown
Sun newspaper and we take some funny photos while enjoying the hot spring. So keep an eye out for it you Hershey/Hummelstown
locals, a photo just might make it into the paper.
I also noticed, as it is hard not to, that nudity isn’t a
big thing here. Some women choice to
sunbath topless and at one point I saw both a man and a women change their
clothes – stripping down and suiting up – right there out in the open. No one seemed to notice and if they did, they
didn’t care. The majority of the people
here don’t seem to have body image hang-ups like American’s. There were many women wearing bikinis and men
wearing speedo’s that didn’t have the bodies to compliment them, but here it
doesn’t seem to matter.
After a full day at ‘the spa’ we took off for home but
stopped in the town of Saturnia for a refreshing Gelato. It is a very small town; according to the
Internet it has population of less than 300.
This town has existed since time began and Pamm took us to see the
original road that went through here to Rome.
If you look very closely, you can see where the stone is worn down by
the chariot wheels.
We get back home and after we all shower to scrub the stink
off of us, Marilee again takes on the challenge of the washing clothes. She has become an expert at it. I, on the other hand, have become an expert washing
my clothes by hand in the bathroom sink.
And I’ve finally figured out what the bidet is used for – the rinse
cycle! Nuff said.
Pamm and I had dinner with Patrizia that evening, Marilee stayed
home to nurse her cold. We ate in a restaurant
we went to during the 2006 trip.
Delicious. Patrizia is like a
movie star in that when she walks in everyone knows her and she lights up a
room. We talked about the rest of my trip and she tells
me to call or text her at any time if I need help. It is comforting
to know I have a friend in Italy that speaks and understands English. It was another great ending to another
great day.
5/26 –
Today we leave Semproniano to go to the beach at Mariana di
Grosseto to be the guest of Chef Elio and his wife Mari Angela. Marilee is cleaning like a mad woman, while
Pamm and I gather the bed sheets and towels to take to Pina. Once the laundry bag is stuffed, it’s almost taller
than Pina.
My heart is heavy leaving this town, so Pamm tells me to
leave some clothes behind and that way I will be sure to return. So I did.
But I didn’t need to because I already decided that I will come back here
again before I leave Italy.
On our drive to the beach, we stop at Roccalbegna for
lunch.
We found a lovely hotel and restaurant in which we were the
only lunch guests. The husband and wife
that run it are absolutely lovely and welcoming.
We are given a tour of their rooms and can peep into the kitchen to see the magic happen. Even the view from the small bathroom window is impressive.
There is something about this place, Semproniano and the surrounding towns. It is almost as if they don’t exist in the same world as Chicago. When you come here, you step back in time to when life was slower and gentler and quieter. There are no blasting stereos, no endless honky horns, no loud shouting in the streets. Sure babies cry and you hear cell phones ring - technology is here, but it is not in your face like it is back home. People do talk on their cell phones but I've noticed they don’t shout the conversation so everyone can’t help but hear. There seem to be very respectful of each other space and coexistence.
Everyone you meet wants to talk to you, they want to find a
way to communicate so they can know you and you can know them. They take such wonderful pride in what they
do and in their families and who they are.
And they take such care of what they own, it’s not the quantity that is
important, it’s the quality. Quality of
things and of life. What is the
hurry? There is time to sit and eat and
talk. The responsibilities of the world
will still be there 20 minutes from now…
I wonder if America was like that not so long ago when it
was built on the backs of immigrants. They brought their culture with them, but why
did it disappear. What happened to
change all that?
I have a selfish thought that I hope America’s way of
thinking never comes to these Tuscany towns because if it does, they will
surely die. It is so wonderful
here. I try to think of a way I could
stay here forever, but then I think of my family and friends and am overwhelmed
by my homesickness for them. I want to
bring them here so they could see what I am seeing and they too could fall in
love with Italy’s Tuscany. But then I
think that the more people I tell, the more people who will come. And the more people that come, someone would
eventually try to Americanize something and then the death of the towns would
begin…. Catch 22…
I hope that is not the case because I want you to come. But if
you do, come with the full awareness that this is not America and you can’t
order something your way. To do so would most likely be an insult to
your host because they have worked very hard to make what they offer is as
perfect as possible. Instead come with
an open mind and heart and allow Italy to show you its way. I think many would agree with me that their
way is a truly wonderful one and its perfect just as it is.
Ciao ~
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