In Media Res

There's something very nice about being in Florence one day and teaching the next...and not being jet lagged. But, the fact that grades are due next week, I've a stack of papers to correct and the week seems to be galloping like the proverbial runaway horses...well, that is to be expected.

It reminds me a little of the weeks that I'd return to school in Montana, having landed the night before. I'd be greeted by a stack of folders from my substitute, filled with the work I'd hurridly copied before my departure. I'd make my blurry way through one day, pack up and sleep the afternoon and evening away. I'd feel more human the next day...and by the end of the week was mostly caught up.

This time, I went to bed at a normal time, one load of laundry done and woke up a little early even. But, it's still taking me a few days to get my feet under me after the break. And I take a deep breath when look at the next week or two. But, all this, well that's how I know that I actually live here. Because the grades, the work, the lack of sleep, the distractions, the maybe trip to Tuscany this weekend, but not as a tourist ... they're all real.

And, when I pause long enough to think about it, that's the best part.

A Fine Tunnel

Road Trip...

Over the past seven days, Abby and I have managed to make use of about every form of transportation. It went something like this: bus, plane, bus, tiny car, bus, train, bus, ferry, taxi, train, train, train, hiking trails, Nissan Micra, a piedi (Italian for by foot). Then, yesterday, Abby took a train home. This morning, I took a van to a hotel, then came home by way of an Alfa Romeo rental car. We took a wrong turn around Bologna, which meant we ended up in Ravenna which meant we took tiny, winding, motion-sickness-inducing roads to Ferrara, groaned aloud at a closed exit for the autostrada we'd been chasing and finally arrived home in just about double the expected time. Ouch.

Our first act, though. long before the wrong turn, was to make a two door car with a tiny trunk hold 4 people and all of our luggage. Impressive. Then, we drove for a little while; then we stopped at an Autogrill. There, I ate a salad with anchovies and had an espresso.

I'd had an espresso at the train station this morning before catching the shuttle to my friends' hotel. I will say that I may have a bit of a ... habit. I can certainly start the day without it, but it's much nicer not to! Besides, I really like the cultural moment of it all. I like paying at the cassa and jockeying for position at the bar, where a harried man or woman lays out tiny saucers, adds a tiny spoon and whirls to pull caffe two at a time from the machine. Today, at the autogrill, a man had all 6 drips going, and knew who each belonged to. I like stirring the sugar in completely, partly to cool it, and then drinking it all in a few sips.

So, I had a salad and an espresso. And, I liked it. Then, back in the car, the backseat, as I was the one "riding along" with them instead of taking the train. Plus, I really don't need the leg room. Then, a wrong turn and my mind thinking Ravenna is not on the way home. Then a few u-turns and swear words followed by a concerted effort to keep an already-tired driver alert for an extra hour or two...or so. Then, our arrival in Trieste and the thought Perhaps this is home now and realizing that I don't entirely know the answer to that.

As we neared Trieste, S and I were a little punchy in the backseat. We realized we could stretch our legs by pointing them straight at the ceiling, both distracting the driver and providing a bit of entertainment to the last kilometers. As we were calming ourselves, we passed through a tunnel with a number of exits immediately after. To communicate this, the sign at the beginning of the tunnel listed the exits, following the list with the words a fine tunnel. I've spoken and read and heard a lot of Italian in the last week. But, still, my American mind couldn't handle the translation and instead of reading "at the end of the tunnel," I believed for an instant or two that the tunnel was receiving a compliment.

Since it led to Trieste, to my tired brain, it was a fine tunnel indeed.

The More Things Change...

I'm the most amazed of all to say that this is my 5th trip to Florence. For reasons I've recently explained, I think that's a very cool thing. Since my first visit was almost 10 years ago and the bulk of my time was spent here almost 7 years ago, I've been able to see some changes in a city that at first glance is timeless.

There are still a large number of Italian women who belong on the pages of Vogue and a number of men whose ancestors must have been models for the famous Renaissance painters and sculptors - that's the only explanation I have for seeing Caravaggio-esque faces everywhere.

Festival del Gelato still makes me smile...every time, and now there's Ciocco Cocco, a flavor that mixes coconut and dark chocolate and means that with the simple addition of Ananas (pineapple), I'm in gelato heaven. Trattoria Anita still makes the best food, as far as I'm concerned, although I didn't see our Spicy Ravioli on the menu. And, in case you're thinking I only notice the food: Palazzo Vecchio at sunset is still amazing, and Piazzale Michelangelo still provides the most amazing view of any city.

But, there are some changes. The new mayor has a number of initiatives including free wireless in the major piazzas and ridding the city of grafitti. On a large scale, there have been changes to places like Piazza del Duomo and Piazza della Santa Maria Novella. SMN no longer hosts a fountain but is now lit by spotlights from nearby buildings. There are new, beautiful benches with lights as well. The entire effect is wonderful, considering the piazza was never the cleanest or most reputable. It seems as though that's changed with the facelift.

Piazza del Duomo's change is even more dramatic - and recent. The entire neighborhood has been pedestrianized. It's an amazing change. Abby had to listen to me rant about how hard it was to cross the streets before and how excellent this new pedestrian zone is (it's only a couple of weeks old). She had to listen to it a lot as we walked through the piazza a lot. Instead of the crush of buses and taxis and jaywalking pedestrians, it's now a quiet walk from San Lorenzo to the Duomo and on to Palazzo Vecchio. I love how the area feels now.

Even though it's low season, there are parts of the city that feel more alive than before. My old stomping ground of Santa Croce seems better lit and there are certainly more shops open. Many are boutiques and so are places that cater to the tourists and not locals...always a hard balance. But, Corso dei Tintori now hosts a few more shops as well as a rather substantial but unobtrusive supermarket. That means, were I to live there now, I wouldn't be shopping with my hiking backpack and walking it all 10 or 15 minutes home. But, I still liked those Standa trips and certainly won't complain now.

There is, even on a fall day, a slightly grating Disneyland feel to the city. The amount of English I heard on the first two days was shocking. Abby commented on it repeatedly, as did locals (both Italian and American) that we spoke with. But, today, it rained. I was here in the hotel for a bit before heading out for my own passaggiata. And, while walking between the major piazzas, I realized that I was among the locals. Yes, a few tourists had maps out and I heard some English, but, for the most part, these were i Fiorentini giong about their routine. I loved it and stayed out much longer than I'd planned.

The evening...and the Italian...and all the Renassaince faces...and the revived piazzas and Renzi's 100 initiatives are all reasons why I say simply, Bravo Firenze. Ti voglio bene.

But, if I could make a suggestion, no more segways in Piazza della Signoria. That was a painful moment.

Checking In

I'm in Florence for a bit longer. We arrived on Thursday, by car...driven by me. It was, I think, a very adult way to enter the city. Abby and I had joined N and W in their road trip of Italy and I pitched in and contributed my years of driving skills. Around the time we were navigating the one-lane switchbacks out of Riomaggiore, I was glad to be in the driver's seat. And, later, when I was holding my own against the Florentine motorists, everyone else was glad, too. Or, at least they said they were.

*

Abby and I spent Thursday and Friday checking things off of the lists we'd both made. It doesn't matter how many times I'm here, I still take a tour of the important sites. Perhaps, after a few hundred years, I'm just making sure they're still there.

Today, Abby left on a noon train, getting back to Trieste in time to meet friends. I'm catching a ride home tomorrow with some colleagues and so I have another evening in the city. As it's a cool day, I spent the morning chasing the sun around the city's piazzas. I ate an excellent sandwich from I Fratellini. I graded a few papers in Piazza Santa Croce. I walked and walked, just to see the streets. When it seemed that I heard more English than Italian, I listened to a few Jovanotti songs on my ipod and walked some more.

*

At the moment I've taken refuge from an afternoon rainshower in our hotel room. But, forgive me if I don't stick around very long. I can see that there's a bit of sun peaking through the clouds now and the sunset is in about an hour.

But in case the clouds don't clear, I guess last night's was pretty good.

Paradiso Trovato

(I'm still adding pictures... I'll write an update post with links once I'm done.)

Wednesday, November 4 – Riomaggiore, Cinque Terre

A little over a month ago, we were by the Barcola, watching the sun set over the ocean. N and I were watching V swim when N asked what drew me back to Italy. Not wanting to wax poetic but wanting to show how much this move meant to me, I attempted to explain that it was a place I loved and felt at home. I don’t know how clear my explanation was.

Tonight, I think he understands much more clearly why living here – yes, in the entire country, not just Trieste – is the epitome of my desires.

That’s because tonight we met in Vernazza just before sunset. Then, later, I met him at the base of the hill in Riomaggiore and walked with him back to the apartment where Abby and I have spent the last couple days. After cheese, salami and Cinque Terre DOC wine, we walked him ‘home’ to his apartment on the other side of the town. Before dropping him off, I attempted to take them back to the place we found by mistake the first night here 6 years ago.

We ended up in a similar location, above the patio I was headed for, but with an amazing view nonetheless. The sea crashed below us, seeming furious. The sound, the light of the moon, the fact that we were all appreciating the moment to the utmost, all of these combined to create a moment that made N say, ‘I’m going to remember this for a long time.’

Then, we made our way down the path to the place where Brandon and Brian threw bits of jade leaves to the bats, luring them closer and closer to our heads. There, lit by spotlights, the waves crashed and crashed again.

Then home, with a wrong turn along the way. There’s no more crazy green fuzzy stuff hanging over the door on the stairs, but I guess a person’s decorating taste can change in 6 years.
But, even before this, simply walking down the narrow, winding steps between our apartment toward the town, I was struck by a realization. Without halting or tripping, I turned to N…’Remember when you asked me why I wanted to come back to Italy so much?’ Thankfully, he did. I gestured to the sleepy town including, at least in my mind the sound of the waves just beyond. ‘This is all part of it.’

Abby seems to completely understand. She’s just gone through her pictures from the trip, showing me the highlights. Neither she nor I can seem to bring ourselves to delete many pictures from the past two days. And, she keeps saying things like, ‘This is my favorite place on Earth right now… no…ever. This is my favorite place of all time.’ And, even more often, ‘I can’t believe this is real!’ It’s nice not to have to temper my enthusiasm one little bit. Today, in Vernazza, I found myself grinning as I trooped up and down steps and took a thousand pictures, that simple act making me feel as though I was appreciating the place even more.

I spent a good portion of the day people watching. For some reason it’s more fascinating here than nearly anywhere else. This morning at Bar Centrale, I graded papers and drank coffee while the rain misted around me, locals came and went and tourists trouped past. I could have graded twice as many papers in the time I spent there…but the entertainment was too fantastic. Plus, it may have been years, but those blue chairs and metal tables, that bar? It’s such a comfortable place to be.

I pulled myself from the chair after a while, receiving a friendly ‘Ciao!’ from the waitress as I left, and headed to Vernazza for lunch. Well, I intended to stay for lunch, but found myself there for the entire afternoon. Abby found me there and we shared a cinnamon gelato so excellent that it defies description. She climbed back onto the hiking trail and I remained by the sea, writing and then, supposedly grading papers. I instead became quickly fascinated by the most amazing display as locals in varying degrees of dress attempted to help pull in a boat that had been moored in the bay. To my untrained eye, it seemed like a catastrophe, but I took my cue from the locals who were merely interested, not concerned.

Then, N and W arrived and I joined them for a glass of wine as they ate dinner before we all took a train back to Riomaggiore.

You know, the place itself is amazing and would be no matter what. But, once again, it’s having people with whom I can share it, whom I can watch be amazed, struck speechless simply by the view from the Monterosso train station... that makes this even better.

Gimme Five*

Tuesday, November 3 – Riomaggiore, Cinque Terre

I was raised on a farm in Wisconsin. Oddly enough, it’s times like these that that comes to mind. At the moment, I’m in a studio apartment in Riomaggiore – one of my favorite places on earth. The double doors are open out to the tiny patio, and I can easily hear the sea as it crashes into the breakers and the rocks a short distance away. It’s pitch black outside…but there were lights enough for us to make our way home via the twisting, climbing, single-file streets.

There really isn’t much here that should remind me of growing up on those 40 acres, so perhaps I’m reminded simply by the great distance and startling differences. It’s yet another in my continuing series of ‘Who would have thought?’ moments. Who would have thought that I’d end up here? But not just once; this is my fourth visit to the Cinque Terre. This time, I’m prepared with a little more Italian than the last time. This time, when I register for the apartment rental, my address is ’Trieste, Italy.’

It’s not ingratitude that causes me to make the comparison, just the opposite. I firmly believe that Joel and I had about the best childhood possible. He and I have agreed that it’s how we want our kids to grow up, too. Those 40 acres and that river and those grandparents? They make all the difference in the world to us as adults. Somewhere along the way I was given both the desire and the freedom to take off for parts unknown. And, I end up here on the Ligurian coast, filled with memories and enjoying every new one. So, it’s a very grateful Wisconsin farmkid typing on her 10” mini laptop tonight.

Tonight, we ended up in Vernazza. We walked the trail from Riomaggiore through Manarola and caught the sunset just before Corneglia: I place I believe we once called ‘C-town.’ From there, I vetoed the climbing of the steps (Abby was an easy sell) and we took a train to Vernazza. This way, if we bend the rules a bit, we’ve hit each of the 5 towns today. We win.

Abby loves Vernazza…but there’s a chance that’s just because she found the only open gelateria and they had cinnamon gelato. I love Vernazza because of a print: a gorgeous collage print that clearly shows Riomaggiore’s port…and the fact that it was the artist himself who sold it to me, shyly offering to sign it. After the gelato, we found that the next train was another hour away, and we consoled ourselves by finding a warm bar where Abby tried ‘sciaccatra’’ for the first time and I learned to keep my love for spritz aperols in the North! There, we sat in contented conversation while the kitchen staff stared (my sneezes were particularly noteworthy), and the Americans next to us ranted about the swine flu.

It’s hard to think about things like that in the Cinque Terre. It’s hard to think of it because instead we’re thinking of the Via dell’Amore and the sunset and the huge aloe plants along the trail. We’re considering the mini bottle of red wine we bought in Alghero and just how early it’s appropriate to eat a gelato at Gelateria Centrale. I’m busy wondering if the bread store is going to be open the next morning and just why my Quattro Stagioni pizza had spicy salami instead of artichoke hearts.

Tomorrow, we have a full day here. Instead of kayaking (some of you have already heard that story), Abby plans to polish off the rest of the trail, and I’ll most likely take advantage of the time and grade a few papers. But, I’ll happily grade papers on the Wednesday of my vacation if that Wednesday finds me in Riomaggio or Vernazza or anywhere in between. The last time, the guy at the bread store knew our routine: breadsticks, gelato, Bar Centrale. I’ll do my best to recreate that…with a little bit of a high school Literature teacher slant to it. Because, it’s not often that you get to go back.


* The title is a cheesy reference to the title of an even cheesier Jovanotti song. But, I love Jovanotti and there are 5 towns in the Cinque Terre. It’s not the first or last time you’ll question my taste.

Preoccupata

Monday, November 2 – Alghero, Sardegna

With good reason, I’m worried about my brother.

I don’t know exactly how to be worried about him and on vacation at the same time. It was almost easier last week when I could be stern with my students, preoccupied at work, then rush home to skype with them, knowing what was going on.

Now, today, I have new reason to be worried, preoccupied and stern. But, I’m not. I’m in Alghero, Sardegna and I’ve already decided that I want to return. I’ve walked along the sea and taken the evening passagiata. I’ve wandered tiny, ancient streets and eaten paella at an amazing trattoria. I’ve had a glass of red wine.

I’m ‘home’ now for the evening in an apartment where we’re the last possible renters of the season. Where there’s breakfast already waiting for me and good conversation to be had with my traveling companion.

Joel’s home, too. But, he’s home from the hospital. Home with a worried wife looking over him. Home with medication at his side. Home with more doctor’s appointments and tests in the near future. Home with worried people praying for him from a long way away.

I’m one of those, people, obviously. He’s been on my mind constantly since the phone call that I received as we stepped off the train in Sassari, burdened by our backpacks. But, I’m 10 hours of time difference and thousands of miles away. I don’t want to worry my way through this trip because I have it on very good authority that worry does not add anything to our lives. So, as we continue on to the Cinque Terre and Firenze – two of my favorite places in this marvelous country – I’ll be trying to find a balance between concern and joy…being preoccupied and being carefree.

While I do that, would you mind sending all your good thoughts, prayers and positive energy and any good karma you have lying around in the general direction of Alaska?

Thank you.

Update: Tuesday, November 3 – Riomaggiore, Cinque Terre
More answers have come – although certainly not the ones we were hoping for. All good juju, etc. is still very welcome. I’m not sure how/if I’ll write about it here. In fact, it took a good part of the last 24 hours for me to process the latest news myself. I have only a vague idea of how to talk about it and am not sure at all how to write about it. That being said, Joel is taking it all in stride and is confident and calm. It will all be used for good.

Confession

(Sorry...no pictures for the moment! I'll add as I have time and cheaper internet access.)

Monday, November 2 – Alghero, Sardegna

Hi, my name is Carrie and I’m an ex-couchsurfer.

I could explain that, but instead, I’ll start at what I consider the real beginning.

Almost 7 years ago, my lovely friends (picture forthcoming) went to Napoli. Now, this was before Eat Pray Love…and so the number of Americans in desperate search of the perfect pizza was perhaps smaller. They were there with V, whose Italian boyfriend Marcello (the guys just called him Mohawk) was Neapolitan. V wasn’t their favorite, but they were ready to capitalize on any connection with a destination in Italy. However, Marcello’s stories about his car having been stolen 4 times that month weren’t the most comforting welcome. By the time they reached their hotel, they were intimidated by the grittiness of the city. By the time they entered their room they were worried about the safety of their location, and by the time they’d adjusted to their surroundings, they were terrified for their lives.

So, they left.

One of the girls pulled out the Let’s Go Italy (they were much better then, I promise. Please don’t buy it now!), found a hotel on the island of Capri and they packed up and headed out. Instead of a weekend feeling uncomfortable and unsafe and unclean (they took lots of pictures of the hotel room to justify their abrupt departure to us), they spent a weekend in paradise. The only things brighter than the sun on the island’s orange trees were their smiles. Cheesy? Yes, but totally true.*

Of course, the added benefit was that they had a chance to navigate the island, and so the girls took me with them a few weekends later. The story of their abbreviated weekend in Naples, though, has always been one of the best examples of the way that I want to travel. There’s no need to create a negative situation, and there’s certainly no need to remain in one should you find yourself there.

Now, the present: Abby and I attempted to couchsurf the first leg of our adventure: Sardegna. It seemed like a good way to meet people in new cities, and it seemed like a good way to save money. Both of us were members of the site and neither of us had actually tried it. Fine, it would be an adventure.

The 34 hours that Abby and I were part of the ‘couchsurfing’ project were quite interesting. Our host was nice, the city of Cagliari was beautiful. It was fine. At no point were we afraid for our lives...not even close.

But, still, I’ve never been happier than when Abby woke up after one night saying, ‘I think I’m over the idea of couchsurfing.’ Of course, I could share her well-defined series of reasons for that statement, but you get the idea. So, instead of moving on to our next ‘appointment’ in Alghero, we cancelled with that host and booked a room at a bed in breakfast instead. Leaving the internet café, we wandered into a tiny bakery where a Sardegnan woman explained each and every item to us. We bought an assortment of cookies…cookies we promptly named ‘Good Decision Cookies.’

That is how I find myself here, sprawled on the bed in an almost-closed-for-the-season b&b/apartment. In fact, one we have all to ourselves. We have a spotless bathroom, with bathtub. We have two places set at a table, just for us, a fridge full of fruit and juice, a coffee maker ready to go and perhaps the largest private balcony I’ve ever seen in my life.

So, I’m an ex-couch surfer, and while – like Abby – I could give an entire explanation why. I won’t. I’ll just say that I’m thrilled. Plus, it seems like this Good Decision tastes like almonds.


*Lee gets all the credit for this picture...I ended up with it somehow, even though I wasn't there. Roommates share.