Post-Christmas in Paris

Friday, 26 December: Disneyland Paris (DLP).
The temperatures slid downward Christmas night, and by mid-morning, a blustery wind kicked up. Nevertheless, we had a wonderful time at DLP. From Crush's Coaster (from Finding Nemo) to Star Tours (Star Wars simulation) to Indian Jones and the Temple of Peril, we enjoyed rides, shows, and exhibits. I really liked the Cinemagique, which pieced scenes of well-known movies together with a modern storyline featuring Martin Short. Very clever and funny. The Swiss Family Robinson Treehouse was super; I wanted to watch the movie again (and I still have never read the novel!!!). 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Aladdin, "Honey, I Shrunk the Audience," and Buzz Lightyear were others. We arrived at 10:15 and left at 9:45. Needless to say, we slept well that night.

Saturday, 27 December: Right Bank Meanderings
A slow start to the day for us, but we eventually got some momentum and explored some familiar territory along Rue de Rivoli and the Louvre. Very cold day; Abbey and Emma bought some warmer gloves, and I found a headwrap to warm my ears. We walked to Place de la Concord and watched the Eiffel Tower's Christmas lights blink (and blink and blink . . .) and the found a wonderful restaurant just off Rue St. Honore (always look for the menus without English translations!). Tim indulged in more oysters on the half-shell; Emma chose duck (surprise, surprise!); and Abbey and I had succulant salmon with perfectly done vegetables. Another fire in the fireplace -- ahhhh! And some great conversation with Barb & Bill and with Kathy. Gotta love the Skype!

Sunday, 28 December: Left Bank Meanderings
Another slow start -- we must be wimping out! Actually, we spend much of the morning Skyping with our Paderno neighbors, Scott, Judy, Maddy, and Jo Jo, who are now in Lugano, Switzerland. It's cold there, too, unusual for this part of Switzerland which often has warmer temperatures than Rome. We packed a lot of our stuff, then decided to explore the Left Bank or Rive Gauche in the St. Germain-des-Pres quarter with the thoughts of visiting the D'Orsay Museum and its Impressionist collection. Alas, everyone in Paris evidently had the same thought -- that plus a special exhibit had lines winding out the entrance, even at 3 in the afternoon. Abbey will just have to see the collection another time (Tim, Emma, & I were there 2 years ago). Instead, we splurged with some tea, wine, and onion soup at the famous Le Flor.

Tomorrow we head to London to meet Katie (Abbey's friend)! Time is whizzing by.

Christmas 2008

After a delightful Christmas Eve in front of a fireplace w/ smoked salmon, oysters, fruit, cheese, foie gras, and homemade cookies, we slept well. During the night, Santa Claus visited, leaving us tickets to Disneyland Paris, about 30 minutes away. We'll go tomorrow.

We strolled down to Notre-Dame, then along the Seine and Louvre -- many of the museums were open today. The sidewalks were busy with people -- families with young kids; couples young and old; individuals mingling with others. Lots of "Joyeaux Noel" and "Bonnes Fetes" with smiles and nods of heads. Mulled wine and chestnuts at street corners, and lights, lights, lights. The air is cool and crisp today but pleasant enough for walking with sunshine. Staff people at outdoor cafes with heaters on were busy serving wine, tea, snacks; some souvenir shops were open as well.

After the 3-hour walk, we caught the metro back to our apartment to fix some Christmas dinner and catch up with family via Skype.

Wishing everyone a very Merry Christmas.

Nous sommes arrive a Paris

Bon jour, rather bon nuit.
We are back in France, Paris to be exact, and it feels sooooo good!!!

We left Cortona around noon, changed trains at Florence, and arrived in Milan about 4 in the afternoon. Our hotel, Hotel Berna, is a short walk from Milano Centrale (the train station). After we freshened up, we walked about a mile to the downtown center to see La Scala and the magnificent Duomo. The city's Christmas decorations are beautiful, and the Galleria, a partially enclosed shopping area, is lit with blue and silver lights. It was an evening with a surprise treat -- an open-air, free concert by Natalie Cole in the Piazza of Milan's incredible Gothic Duomo. If we had tried to plan the evening like this, we couldn't have done!!

This morning we left Milan around 8, the train scheduled to arrive in Paris at 3:15. Since it was our train, there had to some hitches. First the border police between Italy and France conducted a thorough search of passports, eventually taking in 3 people who were illegally on the train. Then, the engineer announced that we had to change trains on Lyon as the one we were on had faulty wheels that didn't allow it to go TGV speed. So change trains we all did -- at this point most of us in the car knew each other (given the incident with the border police, a 7-hour train ride, and a broken-down train). Despite the mix of French, Italian, and English languages we all spoke, we all helped each other with luggage and baby/toddler watching (several families on the train).

At 4:15, we arrived at Gare de Lyon station and caught a taxi to our apartment that borders the Marais / Les Halles-Beaubourg areas, just north of Notre Dame. The apartment is small, but charming with a fireplace. Mussels for dinner tonight at Leon de Bruxelles in Place de la Republic.

Tomorrow -- the market for food, some Santa errands, the Picasso museum. Ahhh, France! It feels wonderful to be back.

Cortona

With a crescent moon still bright, the sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon of hills, spreading reddish light over the Chiana plain below Cortona. I open the window for some cool morning air, and the bakery aromas tease me. Sigh. We are leaving Cortona today after a wonderful week in eastern Tuscany. This ancient Etruscan hill town is as beautiful as Frances Mayes describes it in her memoir, and I have taken numerous pictures of it and the countryside for my course next semester as I'll be teaching Under the Tuscan Sun again. Tim and I took the "Big Walk" three times. The "Big Walk," as it is referred to here, is a 3 mile or so path that encircles the town outside its walls. We leave the town proper at Piazza Girabaldi, stroll through the parterre built by Napolean (one of 2 flat walks in Cortona!), out into the country a bit, past Bramasole (Mayes' house), around the old fort at the highest point on this hill and St. Margherita church and back again by way of Via San Niccolo. We have had such a relaxing time here.

After the morning market, we leave for Milan for a night there before heading to Paris for the Christmas holidays. More updates soon.

A Tale of Three Cities: Part I, FLORENCE

Tale of Three Cities – In three parts
Florence, Rome, and Naples. In three weeks, we have visited these three cities, each of which reflects a different face of Italy; sharper contrasts would be difficult to find, even in this country of contrasts.

Part 1 of 3 – Florence, the Renaissance city.
Florence (Firenze) in many ways is the heart of Italy’s past. Birthplace or adopted home of artists, scientists, writers, it is the quintessential Renaissance city. Every corner, alley, and piazza reveal the richness of this period. While the compactness of Florence makes it quite easy to explore on foot, its windy streets and alleys confuse the tourist nearly as much as those of Venice.

Friday, 24 October. We arrived around noon and made the mistake of exiting Santa Maria Novella train station on the side, which put us in the wrong direction for the centro (city center) and our hotel. Abbey now insists that we go in the opposite direction of what I suggest! Rather unfair, I say. After some meandering, we found ourselves at the Duomo – a breath-taking sight. Emma had her back to it at first, gabbing at me about some candy she had seen in a store window and waving at some of our CIMBA students across the street; I turned her around, and her jaw dropped. “Wow,” she whispered – then silence for a full 30 seconds, a rarity for Emma.
The multi-marbled building with Brunelleschi’s dome that defied engineering concepts at the time is only one of many sights that leaves one in awe of Florence’s Renaissance artistry. Referred to as the Duomo, the church is named Santa Maria del Fiore and is the 4th largest in Europe. Its appearance today evolved over several centuries : original 4th century bronze Baptistry doors; 13th century ceiling mosaics and Ghiberti’s and Pisano’s “Gates of Paradise” replacement doors (1401) of the Baptistry; the terra cotta Dome completed in 1463; the red, green, and white Tuscan marble facade added in the 1800's. Scarcely paying attention to the throngs on the sidewalks, we stared at the Duomo as we walked around it to get to the hotel, located on a quiet side street about 3 blocks from its Piazza or square.
Naturally I missed the street we were to turn onto; asking a café owner “Dove via Borga del Albizi?” I was excited to readily understand his response, only to realize that my understanding resulted not from any increased skill with Italian on my part but from hearing a Florentine speak. The dialect of the north, at least in the Veneto, often confuses even Silvia and Michela, our Italian language faculty who are native Italians! Florence, however, has long been regarded as the place to learn Italian, where the “purest” Italian is spoken, though some argue Siena, once Florence’s rival, is where one should study the language. All I know is that I appreciated being able to communicate in Italian, rudimentary though it was.
We found our hotel building by its number on the wall, though it took some investigating to find where precisely the hotel was in that building – a centuries’ old palazzo (palace). We entered through a tall wrought iron gate that led to a gardened courtyard. Okay, now where? We finally spotted Albergo Bavaria next to a flight of stairs, make that several flights of stairs. “When will I remember that Europeans number the first floor or piano as 0, that floor 1 is what we would call floor 2?” I thought to myself. I did recall, with a sigh, that our hotel was on piano 2, floor 3. Grrr. With a few missed turns, including one into a pricey art store (oops), we found the reception desk, staffed by relatively young, energetic people.
After registering our passports (requirement in Italy), the woman took us to our room – up another level of stairs, old stairs made of solid stone that I could imagine 15th century workers hauling up from the cobblestone street, sweating profusely as they positioned each block, chiseling edges to fit the pieces into place. Another door at the top of the stairs opened into a huge sitting room with 20 foot ceilings, walls with mirrors and reproductions of Uffizi and Pitti Palace art, and tiled floors. A table and chairs looked like they originated in the late Medieval period while a couch and chair were distinctly high Victorian. Down a long hallway, up a short (thankfully) flight of steps, we finally arrived at our room. Roomy with 3 beds, a wardrobe, night stands, good-sized bathroom, and best of all, a close-up view of the Dome from both long windows! I couldn’t help wonder how people ever found their way around these palazzi !! I also wondered what a 3, 4, or 5 star hotel would be like as Albergo Bavaria was considered “budget” and was indeed very affordable!
First on the to-do list: lunch. It was 1:00, and we had left the apartment early that morning to catch the train from Castelfranco to Padua with a change to Florence. Despite warnings from the travel guides about cafés on the major piazzi, we stopped at the first place we came to, with a first-rate view of the Duomo and the Piazza. We had a wonderful lunch outside (weather was a balmy 70 degrees F), shared a bottle of Tuscan Merlot, and yes, paid too much. Nevertheless, our stomachs were pleasantly filled, and we had the energy to explore the Duomo.
Inside the church, we found a reverent quiet, despite the many people there. Artistry exists wherever one looks: sculpted columns; frescoes or paintings on the walls; inlaid marble floor; altars intricately carved with some parts painted and others gilded in gold. The offset chapels within are richly decorated in high Renaissance style. Biblical stories come to life in frescoes and paintings, often with prominent contemporaries of the artists subtly inserted in a corner or two. The line to climb to the Dome was long, so we decided to see if we could advance our reserved entry to the Accademia, visited primarily for Michelangelo’s David.
We left the Duomo to get to the Accademia, running into more of our students on the way (Florence was a popular get-away for the travel weekend). Although ahead of our appointment time, we were allowed inside. A couple of rooms of religious iconography and gilded altars – then David. I had been here 20 years ago and remembered being awed by the marble statue; I was in awe again. David is indeed larger than life, in more ways than one. The fluidity and grace are remarkable given the solidity of marble as a medium.
On the way back to the hotel, the Dome’s line had disappeared, a perfect time to climb the Duomo’s dome for a view of the city on high. Up, up, and up. I think there are as many steps as there are for Nôtre-Dame in Paris!!! Breathless, we reached the top. Despite the haze in the distance, the view was wonderful. Terra-cotta rooftops, gentle mountains, Piazzale Michelangelo and Santa Croce to the southeast, Fiesole to the north. Somehow the camera couldn’t capture the view as we saw it. What was perhaps most impressive was the ceiling of the Dome. 16th century Last Judgment frescoes dominated the Dome’s ceiling. On the way up, we could circle the Dome at one level, seeing the explicitly brutal representations of sinners and non-believers condemned to eternal damnation; on the way down, we circled it at an even closer level. No wonder the church had been able to keep the illiterate masses in line for so long, I thought. The scenes were right out of Dante’s Inferno, complete with personal messages to contemporaries who insulted the artists or committed major socio-political faux pas.
Tired from studying, Abbey decided to go to bed early that night, so Tim, Emma, and I went to a recommended restaurant a block and a half from our hotel. We splurged and ordered biftek florentine – the best steak you could ever imagine. I remembered how much I loved it the last time I was in Florence; it was just as good this time. The three of us enjoyed it; Emma loved her Tuscan soup; we all relaxed in the small, cozy restaurant. Italian, English, and German languages mixed together, yet everyone spoke the same in savoring good food, wine, and community. Later we enjoyed a lovely passagiata (stroll) through several of the piazzas. It was 10 at night, comfortably warm, and Florentines and tourists alike were enjoying the favorite Italian evening pastime. Children played with lit whirly-gigs while parents talked; couples linked arms and quietly meandered; older people stood or sat at café tables, remembering the passagiati of their youth. The crescent moon glimmered over the Arno and the Duomo as we made our way back to the hotel.

Saturday, 25 October. The next morning, after a satisfying breakfast featuring the same wonderful yogurt we had at Rapallo, we headed to the Pitti Palace, an art museum across the Arno. Built by the Pitti family in 1549, this palazzo began as a competition to out-do the de Medicis; however, the Pittis went bankrupt a few years after beginning it, and ironically, the de Medicis bought it. Now a renowned museum featuring a variety of Italian artists and sculptors, it also has a costume section and beautiful gardens, Boboli Gardens, that rival Longwood. Featuring traditional Renaissance art in the Palantine Gallery, such as Raphael's Woman with a Veil, the disturbing Martyrdom of St. Agatha by Sebastiano del Piombo, and others by TItian, Ruebens, and Correggio, I found that the Gallery of Modern Art was more interesting. At first I wasn't going to explore this part of the Pitti since I don't care for Modern Art, but Florence's version of modern is 18th and 19th century, including some by Antonio Canova, who was born and lived in Possagno, a small town near Paderno. I fell in love with many of the works, getting a few small prints as mementos. As with most palaces, the interior itself is as impressive as the art, including the family’s quarters that we were able to see. Sumptuous ballrooms, lavish bedchambers, and art everywhere – no chintzy Target reproductions either!
Hungry after a full morning at Pitti Palace, we crossed back over Ponte Vecchio, which was much more alive at noon than it was at 9 in the morning. People snapped pictures from every angle; I laughed at them and did the same. Interesting, I didn’t remember as many “chintzy” jewelry shops there the last time; however, some quality stores are still on the bridge, although most are on small streets away from the bridge. We found a pleasant restaurant near Piazza Vecchio, and Abbey decided that since she missed out on the Tuscan steak the night before she would have some for lunch. The waiter explained that the portion would be large, more appropriate for two people, but she wanted it. While I had Tuscan tomato soup and Emma had vegetable soup and Tim had a house specialty, Abbey found herself with a huge, beautifully rare steak (though the server, not our waiter, tried to give it to Tim, not believing a “girl” could eat it). Eat it, she did – all of it. When our waiter returned, he looked astonished at the empty plate with only the steak bone, and then shouted “Bravo!!!” As Abbey left the restaurant, she received a number of admiring smiles and nods from the rest of the staff. Evidently they aren’t familiar with the appetite of a 19-year old who was not going to miss out on a Tuscan steak!
Our plan had been to see the Science Museum that afternoon, but unfortunately it was closed. It wasn’t supposed to be, but, well, it’s Italy. Normale. So we did the next best thing – shop! Although Florence is not a city for the budget-conscious, it also is not exorbitant and does offer quality, hand-crafted Italian goods, such as silk scarves; leather purses, bags, gloves, and coats; jewelry; paper goods; decent art prints. Abbey and I found some stylish yet practical Italian leather boots; Tim got two nice pairs of shoes; and I splurged on a 3/4 length leather coat that cost less than a Kohl’s special! Between the markets and the Italian/French/Spanish department store chains, we all did well: warm sweaters for Tim and Emma (the Veneto is cold earlier than Tuscany); pants for Abbey; a pair of jeans for me; gifts for family and friends back home.
Dinner that night was a block from the hotel, and we had some more typical Tuscan fare. Emma has become addicted to Tuscan vegetable soup, a variation of the Americanized pasta fagiole soup, but much heartier and richer. Tim experimented with I’m not sure what sort of meat; Abbey and I enjoyed our favorite – pasta with a creamy pesto-like sauce. Chianti, of course, for Tuscany. Too full for dolci (dessert), we enjoyed a stroll through Piazzi (squares) Vecchio and Duomo. The moon was almost full, with a clear sky affording memorable glimpses of Florentine rooftops and silhouettes. Dinner settled nicely, and the miles of walking that day took their toll. By 11:30, with the many piazzi still lively, we were ready for sleep.

Sunday, 26 October. A beautiful morning on Sunday; we were up early for our scheduled visit to the Uffizi. Not entirely rested, however, as we had done battle with zanzari (mosquitoes), the night before. Abbey had complained about them the night before, but we laughed it off, telling her she was much sweeter than the rest of us. Well, that night, the mosquitoes found all of us. These are nasty little things that like to fly into rooms (such beautiful weather, we had the windows open all day and night) and suck as much blood as possible from humans simply trying to get a good night’s sleep. We embarked on a mosquito killing rampage that morning, wondering how to explain the spots of blood on the walls where our aim was true. Itching, we consoled ourselves with another good breakfast and the thought of the Uffizi.
Our appointed entrance time was 9:30, the museum opening then. About 6 blocks from our hotel and just past Palazzo Vecchio, the Uffizi sits by the Arno. It was built by Giorgio Vasari for Cosimo I de Medici in 1560. Its arcaded entrance protects the lines from sun and rain; although no protection was needed this morning, I was amazed to see how long the lines were. Late October, not the height of tourist season, at 9:30 am, the line was at least an hour long. With reserved times, we simply went to a separate window to give our number, paid for our tickets, and then into the museum directly following a security check (now required at all museums).
Up several flights of stairs (the higher level wise for the few times the Arno overflowed its banks and flooded the city), the beautiful collection of the Uffizi is housed on one floor. Off a continuous U-shaped corridor, are several salons or rooms that showcase particular works. Vasari designed the corridor to emphasize with cornice perspectives its length. Again, we stood for several minutes simply looking at the ceiling, which was as beautiful as I had remembered. I looked more closely this time and realized that some of the images, though delicately wrought, were rather quirky – little gnome-like creatures with suspicious-looking smiles or impish ogres masquerading as angels. Hmmm, makes one wonder about the artists.
Botticelli's Birth of Venus and Primavera (Spring); Ucello's Battle of San Ramono; da Vinci's The Annunciation and Adoration of the Magi; Michelangelo's Doni Tonda; Caravaggio's Medusa; Raphael's Madonna of the Goldfinch; and many, many more artists from all around Italy and Europe.
Walking in the broad sun-filled corridor with its collection of ancient statues and busts, I recalled the film, Tea with Mussolini, especially scenes of Judi Dench, Maggie Smith, and Joan Plowright. working to restore the artwork and that community of women, British expatriates plus the Americans, played by Cher and Lily Tomlin, who banded together to prevent the soldiers from ransacking the museum. A fictional story, despite its historic setting, I couldn’t help but think I would have been standing with those ladies, a part of that human barricade.
Following a light lunch was an afternoon of shopping and exploring. Santa Croce church, a few blocks south of the hotel, may not be as grand as the Duomo, but it is as breathtaking. The interior is tastefully lavish; rather than what seems in many churches to showcase as much art from as many periods and with as many themes as possible, Santa Croce’s decor might even be called understated in comparison. Featuring the resting places of Galileo, Dante, and light, colorful frescoes and art, the church uplifted the spirits quite differently than the others have. Scenes from A Room with a View (both Forster’s novel and Merchant's and Ivory's film) popped into my head as we quietly explored the church and then its courtyard and catacombs.
A warm afternoon, the evening cooled off slowly, and we had a lovely dinner outside with table-top candles and patio lamps, just off a small square. The maitre d’ was an old man who was either deaf or unable to speak or articulate. He clearly loved his job of seating people at this small, cozy restaurant. A group of 6 or 7 women from the UK were there, obvious their second or third time for dinner. After seating them, he purchased a rose for each one from a passing street “florist”; he could have been a handsome, young Italian courting them all, so delighted were they by his gift. Their delight, however, was his. After a wonderful meal with wonderful wine, we left; our maitre d’ was there to shake our hands, and the girls and I kissed him with a “grazie mille” and “arrivederci” on either cheek in Italian style. He smiled the biggest smile I ever saw. Later that evening as we passed by the restaurant, he was still smiling.
Sunday night brought out as many people as the other nights did, helped, I am sure, by the 60 degree temperatures and starry skies. Everywhere, communities of people gathered, small and large groups, mingling from one group to another. Street musicians at every corner contributed to the ambience, and we became part of an appreciative audience of a soloist and her accompanist to listen to arias and ballads from all times and cultures. She moved Abbey, who bought her CD, and I think it is she who inspired Abbey to perform “O mio babbino caro” at the talent night a month later.

Monday, 27 October. Because we were still on a T/Th teaching schedule, we could stay until Monday to enjoy some more time in Florence. We packed after breakfast and then headed for the Science Museum, which offered reduced admission price because of renovations that closed part of it off. However, what we wanted to see was still open – Florence’s tribute to Galileo. Once despised by many, banned from his Florentine home, and excommunicated from the Catholic Church for his heliocentric theory, Galileo has earned in death what he could not in life: respect and honor. We learned about astronomy of Renaissance and how the various telescopes were constructed and what all one could see with them, including some moons of Jupiter and rings of Saturn. I realized that my ignorance in physics made understanding the telescope concepts difficult at times but did not ruin my appreciation for the breakthroughs in science so significant in the Renaissance. Short video presentations in multiple languages, including English, provided information in a quick and painless tutorial. Why don’t we in the States have exhibits in varied languages at our historic sites?
Bags in tow, we made our way back to Santa Maria Novella train station, stopping to buy a few more gifts; suitcases were significantly heavier with our shopping purchases. We arrived early enough to get luggage space on the Eurostar back to Padua. On to Castelfranco and the car and Paderno. Only three hours later to home in the Veneto, yet worlds away from the Renaissance world of Florence.

CIMBA's Many Cultural Activities

In addition to taking and teaching courses full time, CIMBA faculty and students participate in many cultural events. Some examples: lectures on the European Union, History of Venice, and Doing Business in Italy; taking trips to Italian companies (my group is off to a television station in Bassano del Grappa); gourmet dinners (at least 5 courses) at exclusive area ristoranti; and many more.

Some of these we do with our classes. For my intercultural course, we learned how to make pizza and had a walking tour of ancient Verona; upcoming are a tour of a Majolica ceramic museum and a visit the Canaletto art exhibit in Treviso. Last night, the students came over and prepared a full course dinner based on recipes from Frances Mayes' Under the Tuscan Sun, which they are reading. Tim's finance class will go to a designer shoe factory for a tour and introduction to the company.

Other activities we do with our advisory groups. Each faculty member is assigned about 11 students as an advisor. There are two scheduled times for get-togethers; some do bowling, dinner, hiking, or whatever the group decides on. My group went to nearby Asolo to have a wonderful bruschetta dinner and then to Villa Sandi, a marvelous winery in Crocetta dei Montella, here in the Veneto. After the visit, we had a wine tasting at our apartment! Tim's group went to Marostica, famous for its Medieval Fair and human chess game, enacted every two years; they had dinner at Panic Jazz. They too will go to the Villa Sandi winery later this month.

Still other events are sponsored by CIMBA for everyone interested. Most of the faculty and students went to Trieste, in the most northwestern corner of Italy to visit several WWI sites and monuments. Trips to local historical sites are part of ECS, European Cultural Studies. Also, we have 3 gourmet dinners at wonderful restaurants. Our second one is tonight, and I am deliberately not eating today!! These places are fantastic with incomparable food and wine. Important are our dress and manners -- a good experience for the students and a welcome relief from grabbing a quick snack for us!

Uploaded are some pictures from some of these events. For some reason, a few didn't upload; I'll check on that to correct later. Meanwhile, enjoy!

HOORAY -- OBAMA/BIDEN WIN!!!
We all win!

The Ligurian Coast of Italy: Rapallo, Cinque Terre, Genoa

[Late blog entry goes with #9 slide show]

Sunday, 5 October
We left our apartment at 6:45 am to catch our train for Rapallo – our first travel week, although we had already had a marvelous vacation week in France before arriving here. Most of the students had left for their destinations on Friday: Barcelona, Munich, Dublin, Vienna, Paris, Amsterdam, Athens were just some of the many places they were going.

We had opted for a slightly shorter stay on our first travel week (Sunday to Friday) and to locate in one spot: Rapallo, in the western coastal region of Liguria. On the Riviera di Levante (the rising sun), Rapallo is positioned nearly equidistant between Genova (Genoa) and the Cinque Terre. Despite being a resort town, it is less pricey than its famous neighbors, Santa Margherita Ligure and Portofino, and although Rick Steves downplayed it in his books, we found it charming.

The trip to Liguria went smoothly, and we enjoyed pulling just one small luggage piece/person rather than four each as we did in coming here!! The only frustrating part occurred on the line from Vicenza to Milano when we had to make do with a non-Italian/English/French/German speaking traveler who was in my seat and wouldn’t move, even after we and the Swiss couple next to him pointed out that he was on the right train and in the right seat BUT on the wrong day. Didn’t help that the Trenitalia attendant simply shrugged her shoulders and moved on. Normale. So Emma alternated between Abbey’s and my lap from Vicenza to Milano, a little less than a 2-hour train ride. We enjoyed talking with the Swiss couple who were from the Bernese Oberland and knew where Burgdorf was (the town where I lived in Switzerland). A young German boy and girl (brother and sister?) sat next to Abbey/Emma and me. All of us exchanged looks and laughs at the spiked coiffed, multi-pierced, dyed, tattooed boy (we thought it was a boy anyway) with the pants falling off the butt and who was thankfully getting off the train at Brescia. Shaking his head, the German boy whispered, “Ach, Italiano.” I was thinking more Martian than Italian.

At Milan, we bought some tasty panini and water for lunch. Our train came in early, so we were able to board and eat in the compartment. Just before departure, a young man joined us. We made introductions rather quickly after he opened a soda which promptly exploded over him and most of the compartment! After profuse apologies and thanks for the napkins we handed him, he introduced himself as Emanuel. Between our limited Italian, his limited English, and the Italian-English dictionary that we brought, we learned that he was a music major and was traveling to Genoa for rehearsal in Aida. He noted that in America the singers (pop) were wealthy and famous but often not good (as in musically trained); in Italy, not wealthy or famous but usually good. He invited us to see the show, but it won’t open until November.

Promptly at 2:30, we arrive in Rapallo. The temperature was warm – off came the coats needed that cool morning in Paderno. Sea breezes greeted us as we came out of the station and found the way to Rosabianco, our harbor-front hotel. Ten minutes later, we were there and were greeted warmly by the manager. Looking at Emma, he and the other manager conversed quickly; evidently they thought she was a toddler and had put a crib-bed in the room. With unnecessary apologies, they adjusted our junior suite, as it’s called – a family room: 1 double and 2 twins, plus a rattan couch and chair. The view of the harbor was wonderful – noisy, but alive and vibrant.

After unpacking, we wandered the town, showered, and headed for some dinner at Sapore di Mare, one of the many harbor-front ristoranti. Tim and Emma had seafood pasta, splitting a huge crab (a Mediterranean variant of a Dungeness crab); Abbey took advantage of the famous Ligurian pesto with pasta and green beans; I had pasta with clams. YUM! Wine was a Merlot, courtesy of nearby Santa Margherita. After strolling the harbor under moonlight, we found bed welcoming.

Monday, 6 October – The Cinque Terre
Following a satisfying hotel breakfast of tea/coffee, freshly squeezed juice, croissants (sorry, not quite as good as the French ones), ham, cheese, yogurt, and assorted Italian pastries, we took a look at the slightly overcast sky (forecast had been sunny – normale!), but Emma decided we should do the Cinque Terre this day. So we prepped with backpacks, sneakers, some layers, water bottles, and off we went to the train station to purchase tickets for Monterosso, the northernmost of the 5 towns that are linked only with the mountainous trails. Beginning with the most difficult hike first made sense.

On the train, we met a very nice couple from San Francisco, touring Europe for 3 weeks. She’s a kitchen/bath designer; he’s a police officer. They were headed to Vernazzo for 2-day stay and having come from Burgundy, France, where they spent several days in Beaune, one of the two Burgundy towns I planned to see on our way to the UK in May. They loved Beaune, finding this small town with lots of vineyards friendly and accommodating. So, instead of Dijon, we will stay in Beaune. (Mental note made!)

Fifty minutes later, we alight at Monterosso. After Emma gets her feet wet in the warm sea and Tim gets a tourist map, we begin what we think is the Cinque Terre path – but no, it is a scenic tour of the ups and downs of Monterosso. “It’s a warm-up,” exclaims Mr. Pollyanna Tim. My legs were thinking “worn out” not “warm up”! At long last, we discover the trail’s start. Beginning the climb out of Monterosso, we meet several hikers coming down the twisty stone steps. Smiling sympathetically, they remark that we have only begun the climb and pat us on the back, much like a warden would a condemned person at his last supper. Not a good sign. What have I gotten myself into, I think as Emma and Abbey bounce on ahead of us. The answer came quickly: some out-of-breath climbing and knee-stress that disappeared instantly with the sensory experiences with which this area rewards its visitors.

The Cinque Terre is the name for five coastal villages in the southern end of the Liguria region: Monterosso, Vernazzo, Corniglia, Manarola, and Riomaggiore. Linked only by sea, rail, and footpaths, the villages have retained the flavor of life as it has been for years. Only until fairly recently has the area become a draw for tourists. The hiking trail that links the towns crisscrosses up & down the mountain sides. Ancient stone steps, dirt paths, gravel, and even large rocks comprise the path which varies from pleasantly level to breathlessly steep with hundreds of steps; it can accommodate two to three abreast in one section, but the next bend is so narrow that only one person can barely pass through. At times, the ledged paths are devoid of the usual olive or lemon trees, offering dizzying glimpses of the rocks and water below. At those times, I hugged the mountain’s side!

Neither pictures nor words can do justice to this place that time has left unsullied. Between the towns, the mountains meet the sea vertically, no sloping descent. Jagged rocks form the shoreline, sharpened continually by the crashing waves. The Ligurian sea is a myriad of colors, deep blues here, aquas there. In the distance, the clouds darken, and rain sweeps over a fishing boat far off the coast. In a matter of minutes, the clouds move on as sunshine again envelopes the boat. Mixing with the refreshing sea air is the cool, sweet smell of lemon trees, their pervasive fragrance whetting the taste buds. Terraced plots of olive trees with tied orange netting for the harvest later in the fall appear at nearly every turn of the path. It’s tempting to pick a black one – until I remember that unprocessed olives are bitter. Some of the terraced areas are vineyards full of grapes. The Ligurian climate is temperate; unlike the cooler Veneto, leaves have not yet begun to change here, and the growing season is noticeably longer.

We stop frequently, to catch our breath yes, not only from exertion but also from what we see all around us. The hike from Monterosso to Vernazza takes about an hour and 45 minutes of rather intense ascents and descents. We welcome the sight of Vernazza and find the walking down to this harbor town nearly as exhausting as the climbing up and out of Monterosso. Following the trail signs through the narrow stone sidewalk, we smell the noon dinners cooking in the houses whose windows and doors open directly to the alley and the neighbors on the other side. The sidewalk twists down many steps and slopes before ushering us into the piazza filled with shops and people.

We make our way to the harbor which Emma has already explored and has picked our place for lunch – outside by the harbor. It’s perfect. We order pizzas with the incredibly delectable pesto sauce and take in the view. Rick Steves must have liked it here for his picture with several of the waiters (including our own) is on the wall of the indoor part of the restaurant. Re-fortified and armed with some postcards from one of the touristy shops, we leave Vernazza for the slightly less grueling hike to Cornilgia, the only town that has no harbor as it sits high on the edge of the mountain.

Spotty rain cools us off as we find the trail rather challenging, but as always, rewarding. Along the way, we meet many people: British, American, Germans, Austrians, Australians, and Swiss. English is usually the common language. In fact German-speaking people here in Italy use English as they don’t often know Italian and Italians (save for those of the Trentino and Alto-Adigo region) don’t know German. The Swiss, of course, speak 4-5 languages fluently as French, German, Italian, and Romanish are the 4 national languages. We don’t notice any French- or Spanish-speaking people. Evidently there’s a bit of a cultural rivalry between the Italians and the French with regard to wine, food, language, and art. Me? I’ll take them both!

Corniglia is asleep when we arrive – siesta time. As the quietest and most remote of these towns, it has no stores or cafes open in the late afternoon, although we thankfully found a gelateria open and had some wonderful gelato! The clouds get a bit darker and the sprinkling rain harder, so we decide to postpone the last two hikes, the easiest and shortest ones to Manarola and Riomaggiore, for another time. We climb down the 300 brick steps from Corniglia to the train station and buy return tickets to Rapallo.

Now, Abbey and Emma were quite familiar with these steps. They had walked ahead of us on the trail and rather than turn off for the town, they kept following the trail signs which, of course, leads them down the 300 brick steps to continue the trail past the train station and on to Manarola. When Tim and I got to the town, we were surprised to not see the girls. Cell phone rings: it’s Abbey.
“Where are you?’ she says.
“In town,” I reply.
After a lengthy pause, “There’s a town?”
“Yes,” I answer, “where are you?”
“Looking at the train station. We just came down all these steps. A LOT of steps. You can’t miss them.”
I look around and see no steps at all. I quickly consult the guide book; ah ha! I knew where the girls were, and I also knew that if they wanted the gelato, they would have to climb UP all those steps.
I call Abbey back: “Here’s your choice: climb back for some gelato, or wait for us there,” I told her.
In about 10 minutes, Abbey and Emma appeared at the top of the steps, annoyed with the situation but unwilling to sacrifice gelatto. Emma particularly was uncomfortable as she had had to go to the bathroom (no toilets on the trail) and used nature’s accommodations; in the process, she somehow did not quite get her pants out of the way. Ahem. She was happy to change back at the hotel!

After cleaning up and enjoying a hot shower on weary muscles, we had dinner around 8, again at Sapore di Mare, and collapsed in bed directly after!

Tuesday, 7 October – Santa Margherita Ligure
Under deadlines to submit psychology and political science homework, Abbey decided to spend most of the day doing schoolwork. After we all had breakfast, Tim and I searched for an Internet Point as they are called here (no café, darn it!) so that Abbey could post her work. We checked our mail and caught up on the depressing economic news; then we explored a bit of the town. Emma, starving as usual every 2 hours, ate a cheese foccaccia, and the three of us headed off to Santa Margherita Ligure, a 5-minute train ride away.

Much like Rapallo, Santa Margherita thrives on tourism; it is smaller and quieter than Rapallo with an extensive harbor life, not only for the locals but also the rich and famous, at least the rich and famous who can’t afford neighboring Portofino! Statues of Christopher Columbus, Andrea Doria (16th century general), and Mary dominate the center waterfront.

We were reminded that we were in Italy when trying to find the tourist center to get a town map. Following the signs from the harbor, we ended up doubling back around to the very street we had been on, with the tourist center behind us – but no signs so indicating such. Mentally map this: signs direct us east 2 blocks, then north 3 blocks, then west 2 blocks, then south 2 blocks. Yep, you got it: we’re just about back where we started. Normale.

More postcards; some hot tea at a café, nice for this overcast and cool day; then back to Rapallo. I was feeling tired and chilled – some kind of short-lived virus – and crawled into bed for the night. Abbey posted most of her work, and she, Emma, and Tim did Chinese that night. Chinese in Italy?? Not for me! Hard rain during the night but warm temperatures. We weren’t sure how to plan the next day.

Wednesday, 8 October – Genova (Genoa)
Dreary skies decided the day: rather than return to the Cinque Terre, we decided to go to Genoa. Emma was interested in the aquarium there, plus there was an art museum that I was interested in. After buying roundtrip tickets, we waited a bit for the train and people-watched, an interesting pastime no matter where or when.

The ride to Genoa was about 40 minutes and mostly along the coast, the view of the Ligurian Sea interrupted often by the tunnels through the coastal mountains. We got a map from the Information Center; thankfully, unlike Santa Margherita, it is located in the Genoa train station and not on a back street that required us to have a map to find the place that gives us a map! Dark clouds gave way to rain; at least we remembered the umbrellas.

The Genoa Aquarium is located on the harbor, about a 15-minute walk from the train station. The largest in Europe, it has a rainforest area plus a hummingbird room – Mom, you would love this!!! It is also very active in environmental issues that concern sea life. Although we enjoyed everything, the seals and dolphins were the most amusing. Both are incredibly playful and full of personality. The Aquarium has 3 dolphins, one of whom is a ham. She would come right up to the class and look at us, chatting away. They are not performance dolphins, as the Aquarium doesn’t believe in dolphin shows, but the animals loved to play with rings and balls that were in the viewing tank. They have access at any time to two other large tanks that we can’t see but were clearly as amused by us as we were of them and so spent their time in the viewing tank.

After about three hours in the aquarium, we had a quick bite to eat outside as the sun was now out, drying the streets. Genoa is an interesting city: a blend of old history and new business; dark, sinister-looking alleys as well as neatly-paved cobblestoned walks. A port city, it’s seen its share of seediness; even the guidebooks don’t recommend an outing after dark in some areas. However, on a sunny afternoon in the historic area near the Aquarium and harbor, Genoa is energetically alive and bustling.

One ticket for 6€ got us into 3 museums: Palazzo Rosso (Red Palace), Palazzo Bianca (White Palace), and Testi. Interesting very early Renaissance paintings, many of which were dark with little perspective. Emma was particularly curious about the numerous representations of John the Baptist being beheaded at the order of Salome. We did see Paganini’s famous violin, the subject of short opera we saw in Wilmington last year. The palazzi (palaces) were beautiful in and of themselves with courtyards full of statues and gardens. We were able to go to the roof of the Palazzo Rosso for a panorama of Genoa. The guide there was fluent in English, and we enjoyed talking with him for awhile. As the museum, even with the self-guided tour, took longer than we thought, we missed the earlier train we had planned to take back to Rapallo. We just made the 6:00!

Dinner at O Basin, which despite its French-sounding name, is quite Italian. Good food and wine, lots of locals, reasonable prices. We enjoyed an evening stroll along the bay – almost a full moon!

Thursday, 9 October – Rapallo Market; Ferry Ride to Portofino and San Fruttuoso Abbey
Market day in Rapallo. Uh oh, we’re in trouble! People from neighboring towns crowded the vendors’ vans and trucks that encircled the harbor walk and extended south down the road to Santa Margherita.
This market is a bit more upscale than the ones we have been to in Bassano and Crespano, but good buys could be found. For Emma, some needed socks and a fun bag to take things back and forth to campus; for me, some lovely Italian scarves for both warmth and fashion; and for Abbey, an incredibly beautiful dress for CIMBA’s next Gourmet Dinner. Tim didn’t buy anything; he kept his eyes on the multitude of sailboats in the harbor, none of which, unfortunately, was at a bargainable market price!


Lunch at a nearby café, and then on the ferry for a ride to San Fruttuoso Abbey, on the other side of Portofino. Another beautiful day – the colors of sea and sky and mountains were brilliant. This ferry stopped at Santa Margherita, Portofino (where most of the passengers – German tourists – disembarked), and finally to the San Fruttuoso Abbey, a picturesque cove accessible only by foot or ferry. We didn’t have much time before the last ferry returned to Rapallo, but we explored the late medieval site and the pebbly beach. The Abbey’s main building was built by the Doria family in the 13th century, as was the Doria Tower. The area evidently has had a checkered past: it has been a monastery, a shelter for fishermen, and a secret hideout for pirates. Relics discovered during recent renovations revealed early medieval settlers and even Muslim remains.

Emma tried out the water temperature here, finding it warm enough that she wished she had brought a swimsuit. Trying to hurry picture-taking Abbey, we made our way back to the ferry and headed back to Portofino, where we picked up the large group of German tourists who had got off there on our trip down. It was there, in Portofino’s harbor, that we discovered how many of those tourists knew English. Emma, still absorbed with the aquarium from the day before, was enamored with all the jellyfish in the harbor. Excitedly she pointed to one, exclaiming, “Look at that jellyfish with the testicles.” Laughter erupted. Oh dear – wrong “t” word. TENTACLES, Emma, TENTACLES. Bit of a difference.

Back at Rapallo, we had dinner at the best restaurant yet, whose name, naturally, I forget – but I do remember where it is located – on Via Milite Ignoto, one block from Piazza Pastene! It featured some Piedmont wine which was incredibly delicious with my steamed mussels in herbs and the fresh linguine with clam sauce steeped in basilica (basil). Emma was happy with her Ligurian style hearty soup/stew, as was Abbey with her pesto-drenched pasta and green beans. Tim ate Italian, enjoying the traditional number of courses: for antipasti, thinly sliced meat; for primo patti, pasta; for secondi, sardines (no, nothing like those awful salty things in the tins!); for dolci, tirimisu followed with espresso!


Friday, 10 October – Montallegro Abbey, Rapallo and Back to Paderno
In typical Italian fashion, the weather, which was supposed to have been stormy and rainy from a front off the Atlantic, was instead sunny and warm, allowing us the opportunity to take the cable car up to Montallegro Abbey, high above Rapallo on Mount Leto. The ride up afforded some close-up views of the terra cotta–roofed homes surrounded by gardens and small vineyards on the mountainside outskirts of the town; the panoramic view grew more incredible the further up we went. The tree-dotted mountains are steep and jagged, not rounded as they are in Pennsylvania; valleys cut into them unexpectedly, appearing suddenly from a mass of evergreens and disappearing just as suddenly. The vertical slabs of mountain that reach to the sea remind me of why the train goes through so many tunnels along the coast. Turning from the forward view of the approaching Abbey, we see behind us Rapallo and the Ligurian Sea; it’s not long before Santa Margherita and Portofino are clearly visible, as is the point jutting out to hide the San Fruttuoso Abbey. Looking south, we can follow the coast line nearly to Sestri Levante, beyond which the towns of the Cinque Terre lay hidden in the haze and distance.

The Montallegro Abbey is the guardian of Rapallo. According to the legend, a 16th century peasant named Giovanni Chichizzola had fallen asleep on this spot one hot summer day as he was returning from Rapallo’s market to his village on the other side Monte Leto. He had a dream vision that Mary visited him, telling him that the small Byzantine iconic painting of her that she left as a token of her love for Rapallo. When he woke, there was the picture by a flowing spring that had never before been seen. At first, the people put the picture in the town’s church; however, the picture disappeared during the night only to be discovered the next day by the spring on the mountain. Understanding that Mary wanted her gift to be housed on the mountain, the Montallegro Abbey was built and completed in 1559. The spring became famous for its healing waters, and Rapallo enjoyed prosperity. However, in 1574, Greek traders, worshipping at the Abbey, recognized the Byzantine picture, saying that it belonged to his town and that it had disappeared mysteriously about 17 years ago. A court hearing granted the picture to the Greeks, much to Rapallo’s dismay. On the second day at sea, the traders discovered the picture was missing; an “angelic transport” had returned it to the Abbey, where everyone agreed it should remain.

The Abbey itself has an incredibly ornate interior, as some of the pictures reveal, although the outside is simple and classic in form. We listened to a short service, marked by a woman chanting harmonious melodies in between congregation recitations and priest’s readings.

We met a fun couple from Denmark on the lift up; they were travelling with their 4-year old daughter and baby son. He grew up on a dairy farm; she, on a pig farm. He spent some time in the States, and she in the UK, so their English was impeccable. We enjoyed chatting with them and sharing concerns about the economy and political situations all over.

Needing to catch a 12:30 train back home, we left the Abbey around 11, collected our luggage, and walked to the station, deciding to buy some sandwiches and water to have on the train. The panini store’s owner was an entertainment act all by himself! He wanted to sit and eat (not good to eat on the run, he protested!), though we didn’t have time, and he insisted we sample each cheese and/or meat that we had requested on the sandwiches – just to make sure it was “ok.” He is travelling to Philadelphia in December, he said; unfortunately we won’t be there to see him!

Other than a long delay in Milan that made us miss our Vicenza-Castelfranco train, we had an uneventful ride home. It was good to get in on a Friday evening and have the weekend to get ready for the school week and take care of some business at home. Abbey finally caught the cold that Emma and Tim had had a few weeks earlier, so she hibernated Saturday and Sunday.

The weekend was pleasant, but once in awhile, a warm breeze would waft in the open windows and remind us of the wonderful sights of the Ligurian trip that suddenly seemed ages ago.

CELEBRATE!!!!

PHILLIES WON!!! WE'RE GOING TO PARTY IN ITALY!!!!

Normale – Italian Style

By the third week, we have settled into our routine of classes. Well, somewhat of a routine anyway. In Italy, there is seldom a routine, or perhaps it’s that the American concept of that word is simply not translatable. In Under the Tuscan Sun, Frances Mayes writes that “Italians have a longer sense of time than we do.” No doubt the centuries of history that layer this country contribute to that longer sense of time. I suspect it is also an inherent understanding that an individual existence is one of many on an infinite continuum. Our clock-oriented life, too often valued by “productive” output, is completely foreign in this country which does not measure time by minutes but by moments of being.

Life is fluid here, its rhythms accommodating unpredictabilities with admirable grace. I don’t mean to suggest that existence here is completely unstructured or chaotic; it isn’t at all. School begins when the bell rings; Crespano’s market opens every Sunday morning; trains depart according to Trenitalia’s schedule; and Anna and Marta run the CIMBA office with an efficiency that is choreographed to every detail. So, there are “to-do” lists, plans, even routines of sorts. Yet when those lists, plans, routines – for whatever reason – are disrupted or must be altered, Italians shift gears as easily as one does a Lamborghini. They have a word for such instances: normale.

The computer lab printer (yes, you read that correctly – the printer, singular noun) breaks down again. Students have reports and class assignments that need to be printed for the next class. Is there panic? Angst? No. They simply shrug shoulders, save assignments to a flash drive or send via e-mail to professor, get a cappuccino (preferably with that professor), and catch up on news from home, Italian soccer, or travel plans for the upcoming travel week. Anna orders a replacement printer – delivery in one week, maybe two. Normale. [nor-mal-ay]

Large purchase at Famila, the local supermarket (mercato), and the register’s bank card reader balks at reading my card. Are there angry words exchanged? Should I panic at being in a foreign country with as yet little grasp of the language and knowing that I don’t have enough euros? No. I shrug my shoulders and say “uno momento” and head to the nearby ATM to get more cash, while the cashier chats with the next customer in line. Am I greeted with scowls of disgust and impatience upon my return? Not at all. In fact, I am invited to participate in the conversation – despite my protests of “non parlo italiano” and the fact that I catch only every 3rd word. Normale.

A truck – a BIG truck for these narrow roads – is delivering goods in Castelcucco, a small town southeast of Paderno. On these small roads, the driver struggles to park the truck off the main road near the delivery site. Traffic halts in both directions -- actually all four, as the truck is just above the roundabout; I sit in the little Punto, one car back from the roundabout and watch. The village polizia quickly emerge. Are tickets issued? Angry words exchanged? No. It is not I-95 or the turnpike; life is not so rushed that we cannot wait until a delivery truck is parked. The polizia direct the truck’s driver while the cars’ drivers chat with each other. I watch one driver pull over, park, and walk to the small café to grab some espresso and watch the intricacies of maneuvering the truck before continuing on his way. Impressive, I thought. For Italians, normale.

Normale. A handy word to describe much of life – normal or not – here in Italy. It’s their word for disrupted routine or pace, for unpredictability, for anything beyond (or even within) one’s control. It’s a word that we should adopt.

Mount Grappa

Mount Grappa
The Saturday before we left for Rapallo, we caught up with schoolwork, well everyone but Abbey, who worked on school and Facebook pictures until the wee hours of the morning. The day was warm and sunny, so we decided to appease a desire we have had since arriving here – going to the top of Mt. Grappa, the majestic mountain of the Dolomite range that greets us every morning.

Tim, Emma, and I set off in our little Punto to Borso del Grappa, near which we found the road leading up to the peak. The lovely tree-lined road with a few gentle switchbacks hardly prepared us for what was to come!

About the 4th switchback, we stopped to let a herd of sheep gather in a small alcove. Two farmers – and about 5 dogs – were driving them down from the mountain for the winter. About 6 donkeys were with the herd, quite probably as watch animals while the sheep graze high on the mountain. Once the sheep were herded into the alcove, we could drive past, and then the farmers and dogs took the animals down the next leg of the road.

Para-sailers were taking advantage of the warm temperatures and clear, sunny day: brightly colored parachutes dotted the mountain side. As we climbed, they were above, directly across from, and even below us. At one point, we came across one of the many “launching” areas for them. “I want to do that,” exclaimed Emma. My answer? Need I even say it?

At about switchback 15, we knew we were in for some heavy-duty climbing, which the little Fiat accomplished quite well! The views are truly breathtaking. Looking down on the Veneto plain, we could see some familiar sights – Paderno, Crespano, Bassano and the Brenta River, Asolo. As we climbed higher, the views became more expansive, until near the top, we could see the Adriatic shoreline.

“Look, there’s snow,” shouted Emma. Right, I thought – until I looked at the side of the road. Indeed, there was snow – which brought on a refrain by everyone of “Snow, snow, snow, snow” from the White Christmas song. We had to stop and make sure that it was indeed snow. After all the day was a balmy 65 degrees with beautiful sun. Sun, yes, but when we got out of the car, we quickly realized why there was snow here: it was in the upper 30's at the most! So, on with the fleece hoodies and back in the car to continue to the top.

Above the tree line, the terrain became more barren and stark, rocks jutting out of pasture land that would barely accommodate sheep and certainly not cattle. One switchback after another offered another vista of the Veneto plain. Suddenly, we found ourselves at the top of Mt. Grappa. Still admiring the familiar landscape of the plain, we were complete unprepared for what was behind us, and when we turned and took in the sight, we literally lost our breath and not simply because of the high altitude – the northern range of the Dolomites and the Austrian Alps!

Stately, imposing thrusts of earth and stone rising skyward, these mountains epitomize the sublime. The 18th century British writer Edmund Burke defined the aesthetic principle of the sublime as that which is immense, darkly magnificent, threatening, waking in our souls both a terror of and respect for what has existed for ages and will exist for more to come. Percy Shelley’s “Mount Blanc” comes to mind as I survey this vista that defies my ability to describe it with words:

Mont Blanc yet gleams on high:—the power is there,
The still and solemn power of many sights,
And many sounds, and much of life and death....
...The secret strength of things
Which governs thought, and to the infinite dome
Of heaven is as a law, inhabits thee!
And what were thou, and earth, and stars, and sea,
If to the human mind's imaginings
Silence and solitude were vacancy?

Paterno Del Grappa?

Hey, I didn't realize how supportive of PSU football the Italians are. They named a whole area for JoPa! Paterno Del Grappa! Maybe that was his ancestral home...

Tim mentioned finding good Mexican Food there. Isn't that an Oxymoron?

As to the whole concept of foreigners being different in Italy...Well it seems a lot like York to me. If you're not from York you are definitely a foreigner. ...and when people here say "Where are you from?" the reply would be Hellam, The Brogue, West York, or perhaps Seven Valleys. Outside of York, definitely a foreigner.

For instance, Many, John, Ike and Becky are not foreigners.

Gee, I feel so international now! Living the good life.

It's been spirit week here. My school had White-Out Day, 80's Day, Mardi Gras Day, Luau Day, and tomorrow is Blue and White Day....Maybe it's a York thing. So Americano.

Awaiting the next chapter about your travel week. Travel on good people and tell us your tales!!

GO PHILLIES!!!

YEAH!

WHEEW!

SO.... it's obvious you are having a GREAT time exploring and getting acclimated. I do not have as an extensive or interesting life to describe.... so reading your's is excellent. I am, however, going to Maine this weekend and then spending a few days in Boston. What is the seasonal climate in Italy? Any similiarities to PA? I'm looking forward to seeing the fall leaves and ... I might take a kayak trip on the ocean. I'll be in Boston from Monday thru Wednesday for a conference. Hey.... do they have "philanthropy" in Italy?

Anyway.... miss you all. Abbey.... wazzup?
xxxxxxoooooo AL

The Easy Life - Italy

Hi all! I realized that I haven't really been out to the blog except to read, and I thought I would start adding a few comments. As it turns out, my arms are now sufficiently recovered from hauling the luggage on way to Italy to allow me to again write! I was really shocked to find no bricks or large weights in any of the girls' bags upon arrival!
We have been enjoying life here! The other faculty members are wonderful, warm, and helpful. While it's only been about four weeks since we all met for the first time, it feels like we are all old friends. Two of the faculty, Fran LLoyd, and Terry Roberson are both repeat CIMBA professors.(3 to 6) years of experience here in Italy. Without the guidance and tips about where to shop, how to do things, and a million other little intercultural tidbits, our transition from Wilmington to Paderno del Grappa wouldn't have been as easy and would have been much less fun. The full-time staff in the CIMBA office have been fantastic in getting us settled in our appartments and offices, and in getting involved with the students. Participating in programs and events with the students is a large part of the process and has been very rewarding. Students have come from all over the USA. Great diverstiy in backgrounds! As it turns out, the two students from Delaware are both in my Principles of Finance class which has overall enrollment of about 33. My Managerial Econ. class has 17 students enrolled. Realy nice class sizes. The classrooms have enough technology to accommodate about any style of teaching ( overheads, laptop computer frojection, whiteboards, and flip charts).
The students seem to be comparable to our better students at UD. One of the other common traits of the students is a desire to travel. With two travel weeks and two long weekends ( about 25 days) built into the program, Travel is encouraged and expected. For instance, last Friday,Sept. 19, there was a field trip to Trieste, Italy. This is almost into Slovenia and sits on the Adriatic - Trieste is a port city. All of the students went on the field trip along with three faculty (me included) and one administrator. We dropped all but 10 out of 90 students off at the train/bus station in Trieste. The major destination was Ljubljana, Slovenia for most. We heard nothing but good reports from the students the following Monday. They said they found "Great Mexican Food" in Ljubljana! Go figure? They all had a great learning experience on traveling and how to get back to Paderno del Grappa on their own and in one piece. They were tired but happy. After this week we have another full week of classes, and then our first travel week. Our family is heading for Rapallo (West Coast), from which we will visit Cinque Terre (covers about 5 coastal towns). Lots to see and do. I m enjoying the cheeses, fish, great pasta, Italian pizza, wine ... everything so far! We have use of a nice little car. It is a Fiat Punto! 4 cylinder diesel, 5 speed manual stick shift - 4 door with a hatch-back. It goes like hell and has a strong second gear! It is a treat to drive around the narrow winding roads! The Italians go like hell and will pass you at the drop of a hat! Well, I need to go! Charlene and I are going to review some train ticket information for our trip to Rapallo.
Best to all, Tim

Missing you guys back here in York, PA!

I am sitting here after work reading your blog and think it is so cool that you are off doing such amazing things and experiencing life the Italian way. Everything you are doing sounds wonderful! The description of the food alone is enough to convince me that I should hop on the next plane over! Unfortunately, duty calls over here and the people at York Hospital do not mess around. My 80 hour work week does not provide me with enough time to catch up on sleep or do normal people things let alone travel! You will just have to continue experiencing it for me and allow me to live vicariously through this blog! Jon, Cooper, and I miss you all a ton! We are doing well, Jon is busy working at his new job, and Cooper is, well, being a puppy as usual. We are getting the house fixed up slowly but surely and hope that you all can come visit if you are back for the holidays! Lots of Love, Mandy

I'm so jealous!!!

Hi Guys -- I finally got on the "blog". You should be proud of me, first site I've ever joined! Now I have my "google site" and everything. I spent some time catching up on all of your news -- what a great month you have had! It all sounds so peaceful. Tim, I know you miss those of us at work, making our way through "drop/add". It is over now, so we have a little break before the senior checkouts are due. Not much news from here. Tomorrow night, Bob Schwitzer, Jay C., Jim Buckowitz, Puglisi and Bill Poole (guy retired from the FED) are going to do a panel discussion on the state of the economy. Most people are hoping they are going to explain things in a way that the rest of us can understand it! Besides the economy going down the toilet, the only news is about the election. It should be an interesting fall. Charlene, I am really enjoying your entries -- where are Tim's?!?! How are the students? What is this about Univ of Iowa? What happened to Cassie and Univ of Kansas?? Look forward to hearing from you guys. Drink lots of wine for me and Andy!! Love, Sandy

The Markets in Italy

Ok, Lise -- you wanted another blog post!! Be careful what you wish for!

If it’s Sunday or Thursday or Tuesday or what day you will, there must be a market somewhere in Italy. For Crespano, a little village about a mile and half from Paderno, Sunday is the day. We’ve been there three Sundays in a row now, each time with increasing success in finding and buying food, clothes, and household needs. We feel a little less like foreigners, though the vendors recognize from our accents that they need to speak “proper” rather than dialectal Italian. And except for our favorite cheese vendor, who greets us with a “Ciao, Dela-ware,” the others now don’t seem to notice much difference between us and the locals. Well, at least they don’t let on that they do.

This past Sunday, I actually found a pair of jeans at the market that weren’t designed for a 5'3" Italian 15-year old, and they cost only 12€ ($17)! Abbey found a lovely wool winter coat for 30€ (about $42), and Tim bought some nice dress shirts at Kohl’s prices. Of course we stocked up on cheese and produce: mele (apples); lattuga (lettuce); pomodori (tomatoes); olive (olives!); fromaggio parmegiano e gorgonzola (no translation needed, right?). The market was bustling; perhaps because the weather was good this week – no rain.

On Saturday, we went to Bassano del Grappa, a lovely historic city about 30 minutes from Paderno. It’s on the Brenta River and features an historic wooden bridge, originally designed by Palladio, that links the two sections of the city. Saturday is Market Day in Bassano, and the vendors were enjoying the people turning out on a lovely, sunny day to find some bargains and food for the week. After some experimentation with driving in the city, finding a parking place, and learning how to work the meter, we explored the market that runs down through Via J da Ponte, one of the main streets connecting with three central squares or piazzas: Piazza Garibaldi, Piazza Liberta, and Piazza Montevechio. This day Bassano bustled with families pushing strollers and monitoring toddlers running throughout the throngs; young couples waving and shouting “Ciao” to friends; retired people greeting each other with a handshake or a kiss on each cheek; and, taking advantage of the varied goods available this day, were foreigners (Italians and non-Italians alike).

Foreigners – a different concept in Italy. Italians think of themselves first as residents of their hometown or province. Ask Italians where they come from, they’ll say “Treviso” or “Venice” or “Bassano,” not Italy. They might, if feeling particularly worldly, reply “Veneto,” “Lombardy,” or “Tuscany,” indicating the region. So, in Bassano, located in the Vincenza province of the Veneto region, we Americans were not much different than a Crespano native from the Treviso province of the Veneto. And we were the same as a Fiesole native from Tuscany – save for our ineptness in Italian!

Meandering through the markets and observing the people make for an intriguing cultural experience. The locals who come regularly have established relationships with the vendors (who travel from one market town to another throughout the week). Vendors willingly engage in lengthy conversation with a customer while prospective buyers patiently wait for their attention, often joining in the conversation before the vendors address their questions or needs. The goods themselves are an enigma: “Made in Italy” can mean “Made in Italy” by Italian workers (i.e., snap it up; it’s good) to “Made in Italy” by 3rd world workers in Italy (buy with extreme caution – Wal-Mart goods). We are learning to recognize the difference with help from our Italian friends at CIMBA: look at seams’ stitching; feel the fabric; and pay attention to craftsmanship. “Real” Italian-made products usually reveal an artisan at work. The variety of goods is amazing: clothes of all sorts, shoes, fruits, vegetables, meats, cheeses, linens, jewelry, kitchen products, plants and herbs, belts, tools. For some reason, chain saws are popular market fare – hopefully for cutting firewood!!

This Saturday, we had Emma’s friend and our neighbor, Jo-Jo, with us as her parents and older sister were involved in a different outing. The girls were surprised by a carpet vendor waving to them and yelling “Hello.” Turns out he goes to Crespano and saw both of them the last couple of Sundays there. Tim and Emma went over, and they conversed in broken Italian/English and the ever helpful hand signals. He said he was Moroccan, so we explained our connection to Hicham’s family in Tangier. He was from further south, a town I didn’t recognize by name.

By noon, Emma and Jo-Jo were “S-T-A-R-V-I-N-G,” so we fortunately discovered a welcoming café on Piazza Montevecchio, not far from the famous bridge. Finding suitable bistro/cafes here in Italy is much more a challenge for us than it was in France as many are “bars” which serve coffee, tea, wine, etc., but not much in the way of food that appeals to American 11-year olds. This place was nice with friendly, attentive service (including waitress who spoke some English). Abbey, Tim, and I had some fantastico Panini sandwiches. Emma and Jo-Jo chose some yummy bruschetta with mozzarella cheese, tomatoes, artichokes, and black olives.

After a pleasant lunch, we walked to the bridge, known as either Ponte Vecchio (like the famous one in Florence) or Ponte degli Alpina. The signs just say “a Ponte” (to the bridge)! Whatever name, the bridge is charming – a covered wooden structure spanning the Brenta River. I took some lovely shots of it and the rows of homes and businesses on the banks, all with flower boxes or landscaped greens. A just-married couple with their attendants were there taking full advantage of the bridge’s ambiance for some pictures. A highly decorated VW Bug (old one) was evidently part of the wedding party!

Walking back through the piazzas, we saw nearly deserted streets. The market was gone: vendors had packed up and left, and the streets had been cleaned. Now, however, we could see the building that had been hidden behind the rows of vendors: the old municipal building with classical pillars, faded frescoes, a statue commemorating Garibaldi who led Italian states to victory and unity in the late 1800's, a monument to the local fallen during WWI (what is known here as la Grande Guerra, the Great War).

Speaking of the Great War. Last Friday, the school sponsored a trip to Trieste, a 3-hour bus ride one way. Tim went, but Abbey stayed to catch up on school work, and Emma and I had some fun together at home. Tim will have to write a post about the experience, but I uploaded the pictures that he took. One stop along the way was to a World War I monument. Trieste, which borders Slovenia, has a number of sights, but there was little time before the bus headed back home.

This week we also had two dinners out. One was at a fellow faculty member’s house. Dominic, a Brit who now lives in Italy with his Italian wife, Lara, and their two children, invited our neighbors and us over to their house for some pizza take-away. It was a good time for kids and parents alike. Dominic and Lara built the house a few years ago in a small village about 20 minutes from Paderno. Very sleek and modern in design and functions (has air conditioning which is almost unheard of in Italy), it is a sharp contrast to the warm, hearth-like feel of a Tuscan farmhouse.

Our second dinner was at an Agriturismo. Popular throughout much of Europe, these farms have small restaurants that serve up the farmers’ produce, meats, cheeses, and, in some cases, wines. About 11 of us went – incredible drive up one of the mountains on a paved road more narrow that the dirt roads at the farm and with rather steep drops that had everyone looking down (save for Tim, who was driving at that point)! Lovely view of the valley and the Grappa range toward the north. We made a mental note to go back during the day for pictures. Mushrooms were featured – it’s the season for them. Both Emma and Jo-Jo had wild mushroom soup which they loved. Everything was tasty. Good dinner, good wine, good company. Couldn’t have asked for more.

Dela - WHERE?

Hey there! I'm so glad your Italian friends validated the difficulty in locating DELAWARE. By the way..... no one knows where Royersford, PA is either..... :)

Anyway.... the USA misses your political views and commentary on the decline of our stock market. I miss your indignation about our international state of affairs. Hey! Lehman Brothers hit bottom! What do you think about that? Meryll Lynch is in the hopper..... thoughts? Tim.... this is definately a good case study for your Italian students. OK.... tell me more about the weather and view in Italy..... it's a far cry from the local home owners association challenges..... or the work that I should be doing right now..... tell me about the hills and thunder storms and the scent in the air. Your poetry is better than ..... well, I'll stop there. (don't read too much into that.... you're not THAT good!)

Miss you all much.
Emma.... thanks for the e-mail
Abbey.... wazzup with you?

Go Phillies, Tim! How bout them Phitins!?

Boy do I miss you guys, and Tim, this Monday night is the annual baseball night out where you pose as one of my loyal lighting customers and come with us all to see the Phils have-at-it!
Sorry you're missing it, I'll have an extra 5 or 6 Yeungling Draughts on you be-haugh!

Paderno del Grappa

Paderno del Grappa -- see Links for pictures of the town, our apartment, and incredible Mount Grappa!

While I filled you in a bit about our arrival several postings below, I now finally have some time to write more about our Italian home for the next several months. It’s difficult to know where to begin; perhaps describing the surroundings is the best way.

Paderno is a small town or village of about 2000 people with the CIMBA campus located on the Instituo Filipin, an Italian boarding school. Paderno has a pharmacy; a “banging” pizzeria; a scrumptious bakery; two tabacchi stores (little grocery stores); a gift-arts store; a municipal building (bureaucracy rules here); a bell tower (w/ hourly chimes of the bells); a church (every town has one – or two); a post office; a bank (with a multi-lingual ATM); a spa (yes, Abbey & I may visit that for a massage); quite a few houses and apartments, all of which feature window boxes or gardens of flowers and herbs; and several small farms on the immediate outskirts. The center of town is the roundabout that directs one to nearby Asolo, Crespano, Fonte, and Castelcucco.

Mount Grappa dominates the skyline, visible from every angle in the area. Part of the impressive Dolomite range, it thrusts upward with jagged rocks here and smooth grassy rolls there. We have an incredible view from our front balcony and living room. The storms – and there have been several since we’ve been here – are amazing to watch: the clouds gather and swirl, find a direction, and then race toward the unsuspecting target. The rain follows quickly. It’s thrilling to watch the storms move across the mountain tops or through the crevices facing us. Sometimes the rain seems to be coming directly toward us and suddenly it will veer south to the Veneto plain and Verona.

Veneto weather changes quickly: an overcast morning gives way to lovely sun by 10 to intense sun by 3 to a sudden downpour at 6 to a cool clear evening by 9. Perhaps this is typical for fall; perhaps it’s because of the mountains. Either way, I have no doubt but that it keeps the weather forecasters guessing. When the thunderstorms come, the thunder is incessant, seemingly uncoordinated with the lightening be it cloud to cloud or brilliant ground strikes. The nights have been cooler the last few days, probably about 50-60∘ F.

Our apartment is quite nice. If you look at the pictures, our apartment is on end of the second floor of the pinkish terra cotta colored building. Our wonderful neighbors from Oregon are in the next-door apartment. We share a landing and a front balcony. The living/dining/kitchen combo is very spacious. Not much countertop room in the kitchen which is sometimes inconvenient, and we do have to rethink cooking strategies as we do not have a full-sized oven, only a toaster oven. The refrigerator is a good size, just a little smaller than we typically have, and it has a freezer. Gas cooktop is great, though I keep turning on the wrong burner!!!! Abbey and I have rearranged furniture to create cozy nooks, work spaces, and eating areas in this large room. It’s beginning to feel like a home.

The two bedrooms are roomy with wardrobes and a dresser. Our bedroom has a desk as well. The main bathroom (with a shower) is between the two bedrooms; the girls have a good-sized “powder room” off their bedroom. A door separates the living area from the sleeping and bath area which is nice for privacy and quiet. I love the windows, even though they’re casement and I prefer double-hung. They are big and open so easily. Each has functional shutters we can shut partially or completely to block hot sun or shelter from rain with the windows still open.

A small balcony off the dining/kitchen section is where we hang the laundry. Few people have dryers in Italy because of the high energy costs. No dishwashers either (except for people). When laundry isn’t drying, the balcony is a wonderful place to sit. It overlooks our downstairs neighbor’s back yard and her Golden Retriever, Giacomo – who loves to play ball and be petted. Across the driveway is a large vegetable garden, where a man (who has now learned to smile and wave to our greetings) spends many mornings and evenings tending to the plants. He must have visited the Sunday market in Crespano and purchased some seedlings for we saw new plants there on Tuesday.

A mother, grandmother, and two young children (about 5) live in the larger downstairs apartment that is in the golden yellow building. The grandmother is very pleasant, and Emma and her friend Jo-Jo have played a bit with the kids. One of the girls is Italian; the other is American. We’re not sure what the connection is exactly. Abbey had fun practicing her Italian on the one girl.

On Saturday, Tim and I walked to the post office. I was so proud that I could ask for “due francobolli per stati uniti, per favore” (two stamps for the United States please). Hey, it’s not much, but I’m learning! On our way back, we met Giorgio, who is the complex’s handyman and gardener. I was pleasantly surprised that he initiated the conversation after we smiled and said Buongiorno (I haven’t found the Italians in general to be quite as friendly as the French). “My name is Giorgio,” he said with a strong accent. “Mi chiamo, Charlene. Piacere,” I replied. (My name is Charlene; pleased to meet you). He was working in the garden. Although he knows only a few words of English and we know only a few words of Italian at this point, we managed to communicate quite well: Giorgio grew up in a small town near Paderno and has (or had, I don’t enough verb tenses) 6 brothers and sisters; he recommends our taking the train to Castelfranco for a day in Venice, which is evidently one of his favorite places in the Veneto; he likes the beach (or maybe suggested it to us, I’m not sure which); asked if the girls he had seen were our daughters; and thought it would rain today (it did). What words were unable to accomplish, hand motions usually did and mimes did. If nothing else, we made a friend.

Italian hours of business live up to their reputation of being unpredictable with regard to hours. Most close on Wednesday afternoons; however, some close on Monday. Still there are others who choose Tuesday morning. To make it more a guessing game for the unsuspecting public, some remain open when the sign says “Chiuso” (closed) and some close when the sign reads “Aperto” (open). Normale.

We went to the Sunday market in Crespano again yesterday – a 20-minute walk away. Although the weather wasn’t cooperative with rain, we had a good time buying vegetables, fruit, and cheese. Only one mistake with the apples as the vendor thought we said tre mele (3 apples) and we said tre kilo di mele (3 kilos of apples, which disappear in a week in this house!). Our cheese vendor was an absolute hoot! He could tell from our pitiful butchering of the Italian language and of course our translation books, that we were not Italians. He asked where we were from. We told him “Delaware, America.” Then he wanted to know where Delaware was (just like many Americans not from Delaware ask!!!), and we drew a little map showing the state between New York/Philadelphia and Washington DC. Well, he was tickled; you would have thought we were from Mars. He hollers to his wife – “Hey, they are from Dela-ware” – emphasizing the syllable break and in Italian, of course. She came out, said “goodby” and smiled. No, she wasn’t being rude. The Italian “ciao” is both hello and goodby, so Italians who don’t know much English will often say “goodby” for “hello” and vice versa. Then our vendor tells some of the regulars standing in line that we are from “Dela-ware.” I suspect we were the first Delawareans he had ever met. Of course, he was the first Crespano cheese vendor we had met!! He had us tasted each cheese to make sure we liked it. So we did well in getting some excellent local goat (capra) and sheep (pecorino) cheese (fromaggio), and two types of asiago. He wanted to know if we were taking it home to “Dela-ware,” a question we didn’t at first understand until Abbey picked up on “import” and one of the regulars who knew some English helped. I explained that we abiamo in Paderno per otto mesi (we are living in Paderno for 8 months). Bienvenuto (welcome), he said. As we packed our cheeses into our backpacks, he began to help others, but turned as we left the stand: “Arriverderci, ciao Dela-ware,” he yelled. I think we will go back many times!