Buone Feste!

A short video card...



It's been an incredible year for us. After spending the last 30+ years in the Seattle area, we relocated to Italy. The changes in our lives have been both dramatic and subtle. I've tried to capture the transition in this blog, but it's hard to capture the feelings and effects of leaving your jobs, home, family, friends, and country and moving half-way around the world.

We are very thankful to all the people who have helped ease our transition. Our families and friends have been incredibly supportive and some of them have even consented to visit us in Italy to help alleviate any feelings of homesickness we might suffer! We had visits this year from Jim's nephew Mike and his wife Tina, Jim's sisters Alice and Marilynn, our friends Keith and Shay, and Jim's former boss and our friend Charlie. And next year's roster of visitors is already starting to fill up, so we have a lot to look forward to in 2010.

We are also very thankful to the people here who have helped us in our transition. The friends that we've made through Jim's work have been very kind and eager to help both Jim in his new job and us in our new life in Italy. Jim has nothing but good things to say about the people he works with.

The women who I've met through the International Women's Club have also been invaluable in our transition. An active group, they offer many activities, including Italian conversation classes, cooking classes, and field trips. In addition, they are a great resource of information: best doctors, restaurants, market stalls, gelaterias.... It's made the transition a lot faster and a whole lot more fun.

Finally, we must mention Letizia, Francesca, and Mattea, three generations of a wonderful family that we are lucky to call our neighbors. From the first day we moved in, they have been willing to help us, whether it is translating for us when the repairman comes, teaching us how to harvest olives, or inviting us to their home for dinner. (Even their dog Kruk is a good neighbor. He and Bruno like to get together and croon. We speculate that they are singing a love song to Bella.) We couldn't have asked for better neighbors. Without them, I think we would feel isolated at the end of Via Prulla.

We hope that you and your families are all healthy, happy, and enjoying the holiday season. All the best in 2010!

Pace e buone feste!

SPQR

Looking outside the house at the fresh snow on the ground, I find it hard to remember the warm days we spent in Sorrento and Rome in early October. I do remember that I liked Rome more than I thought I would and the Amalfi Coast a little less. Overall, the trip was fantastic: Jim took his first vacation in over a year, we began our explorations of southern Italy, and we traveled with two of Jim's sisters, Marilynn and Alice. Traveling with them can be described in one word: laughter. Whether it's chasing geckos around their hotel room or posing for photographs with ancient statues, they both bring a lighthearted and laid back approach to seeing the world, while still appreciating the incredible art and history we were experiencing.

So Saturday morning, we dropped the dogs off at the kennel, picked Jim's sisters up in Florence, and drove the 6 hours to Sorrento. We listened to a gripping audiobook about Ed Viesturs mountaineering exploits while Jim drove us through Naples in the dark and the rain. It was probably the wrong thing to listen to because when we finally reached our hotel, our hearts were racing as much from the story as from the crazy southern Italy drivers. The hotel was simple but had wonderful views across the bay of Naples. It also came with a hotel clerk that spewed information like lava from nearby Vesuvius. From Sorrento, we took the train to Naples to visit the National Archaeological Museum, which has amazing exhibits of Roman statues, frescoes, and mosaics. This is a world-class museum that although badly in need of a dusting is jam packed full of artifacts from Pompeii including the finest mosaics I've ever seen. It also houses the Farnese Collection (Cardinal Farnese became Pope Paul III): room after room of Roman sculpture, mostly copies of Greek originals that were unearthed in excavations around Rome during the Renaissance. Sadly, the Egyptian collection was closed during our visit.

Also from Sorrento, we drove along the Amalfi Coast. Despite a fantastic lunch in the small village of Rapallo, the drive was disappointing. I imagined a long, rocky coastline with a road that clung to the cliffs above the sea. That was all true, but the only reason it was long was because there were so many cars and the traffic was stop-and-go through each little overrun village. The scenery was stunning, but there are too many people trying to share too small of a space. I'd like to see more of this area, but perhaps from the trails in the hills or from the seat of a kayak.

If the Amalfi Coast was disappointing because it was smaller than I had envisioned, the opposite is true of Pompeii. The scale of the place is hard to describe. Our legs gave out on the rocky, uneven roads and sidewalks before we could see the entire site. Pompeii, which was sealed up by the 79 AD eruption of Vesuvius, is a well preserved window into Roman life. The mosaics, frescoes, courtyards, chariot-width roads, amphitheatre, baths, brothel, bakeries, fast-food restaurants... all paints a picture that you can't find anywhere. Large ruins remain in Rome, such as the Coliseum and Forum, but Pompeii shows you how middle-class Romans lived their day-to-day lives.

I didn't expect to like Rome. I expected to tolerate its crowds, its noise, its Vespas, but I loved it and can't wait to return. Marilynn rented a small apartment outside of Rome, which worked out perfectly. Each day, we'd ride the train into the city and visit any number of blockbuster sites. The Coliseum, magnificent. The Pantheon, timeless. Michelangelo's Pieta in St. Peter's Basilica, a tear jerker. The Vatican Museum, opulent overindulgence by a long line of power mongering and outrageously wealthy popes, but an extraordinary collection, nonetheless. The Sistine Chapel, soul stirring. The list goes on, but the one place we hadn't visited before that took our breath away was the Borghese Museum. This small museum houses some extraordinary art treasures, including many of Bernini's works. The museum lets 200 people enter at one time for a 2-hour period. If you get out of synch with the other 199 people, you can be alone in a room with a masterpiece, such as "Apollo and Daphne," and marvel at how Bernini captured Daphne's metamorphosis into a laurel tree, her fingertips transforming into delicate leaves of white Carrara marble.

SPQR is seen throughout Rome (it's on every manhole cover in the city). It is the latin abbreviation of "Senatus Populusque Romanus," the senate and people of Rome. Western politics, religion, law, medicine, philosophy, and culture owe much to the Roman Empire. Spending some time in Rome helps make that connection. (And if you can't get to Rome, or even if you can, watch the HBO series "Rome" to see what life might have been like around the time of Julius Caesar in all its gory details.)

More photos of our trip.

Motorcycle nirvana

I need to write about our October visit to southern Italy--Pompeii was fantastic and Rome is my new favorite city--but right now, my thoughts are in a purely self-indulgent place, and I'm more interested in writing about our new motorcycles than anything else.

As many of you know, Jim and I got into motorcycling recently. It had an altruistic beginning. I wanted to start riding a scooter to and from work (25-miles round trip) because I felt guilty about driving a 5-passenger, gas-guzzling car every day. At one point in my life, I was a regular bicycle commuter, but with dogs to keep exercised on long walks every morning, I didn't have enough time to add in a 2-hour bike commute. Public transportation options were abysmal from our suburban home. It would take me three buses and nearly 2-hours one way to work, including about 1-1/2 miles of walking. A scooter seemed like a reasonable alternative, and of course, it sounded fun. So, in the spring of 2008 while Jim was in the Arctic, I signed up for a motorcycle instruction course and started looking at Vespas and the like. When Jim returned home, and I told him about the class, he said "Great, when are WE taking it?" That's when I knew I wouldn't be buying a little scooter.

Two weeks after we finished our class, we bought a 1994 BMW K75. We were so new at this, that we didn't even dare to take it for a test drive, but rather had the owner deliver it to our house. Our first rides were around our neighborhood. I spent a lot of time in the local elementary school parking lot and then driving to and from work. I learned a lot in the first few months of commuting, including that I can pick up a 500+ pound motorcycle that I've dropped in front of my Mom. Despite being a bit big for me, the K75 was a great beginner bike. It was a very easy bike once I was underway, and with three inline cylinders, it was smooth but not overpowered. The only problem was we needed another bike so that we could ride together.

Before we found that other bike, we decided to move to Italy. We figured that Italy was full of motorcycles that we could buy, so we sold the K75 and started looking for bikes after we arrived. But, there were complications. First, whatever we bought would have to be sold before we left for the U.S. since we couldn't import motorcycles with European specs. Second, it was difficult to set up meetings, let alone negotiate, with our limited Italian. Finally, we would have to go through a tortuous licensing process to get used Italian bikes exported from Italy and imported into the Armed Forces Italy licensing system, a requirement for all of our vehicles while Jim works for NATO. Jim was frustrated with all of the hurdles, so he started investigating BMW's military sales program and discovered that we could buy new discounted bikes and avoid paying tax until we import them into the U.S. Although new BMW bikes aren't cheap, the deal was pretty enticing. After a bit of debate, we ordered two new bikes in August.

Jim will want me to disclose that it wasn't his idea to buy enduro bikes (off-road/on-road), but rather my insistence on buying the F650GS "forced him" into buying his 1200GS. Jim probably would have bought a sport or touring motorcycle, but since a co-worker first suggested the F650GS to me, I've had my heart set on it, not because it's a beautiful bike (the Moto Guzzi Breva 750 is a beautiful bike), but because the F650GS was right for me. I like the size and weight of the bike, and I like the notion that I can drive anywhere that I have the willingness to go.

Two months after we placed our order, our bikes were ready. Coincidentally, the pick-up date was the day after Jim's birthday, so the last weekend in October, we drove to Germany in a rental van and collected the bikes. No surprise, but Jim and I always feel a bit out of place when we go into a BMW dealership. This time was no different. It probably didn't help that we had camped in the van with Bella and Bruno in front of the dealership Sunday night. Despite our disheveled appearance, they were very kind to us, giving us coffee, loading our bikes into our van for us, and sending us off with a bottle of champagne. Around midnight Monday night we unloaded the bikes at our home.

The instructions in our manuals for breaking in the bikes say "Try to do most of your riding during this initial period on twisting, fairly hilly roads...." If you know where we live, you will find this instruction funny. I can count nine hairpin turns on the 3-mile road from town (sea level) to our house (1,500 feet). For our inaugural ride on Saturday, we spent 20-minutes negotiating some traffic near town, and then we drove 40 miles following the Vara River to the medieval town of Varese Ligure. The back roads here are a dream to ride: empty, twisty, and incredibly scenic. In Varese Ligure, we walked around, had a cappuccino, and then rode home, enjoying the sunshine and the fall colors. Late Sunday afternoon, we drove up into the hills above our house on gravel and small paved roads. We drove to the end of a long ridge and stopped to enjoy the view over the local mountains, the Apennines, which were bathed in light from the full moon. We are in motorcycle nirvana.

Visiting a Friend in Vicenza

I've been having too much fun to blog. After our weekend in Florence, we went to Vicenza, a 3-1/2-hour drive northeast of here. Our friend Susan Pollock was on a tour of Palladio's architectural works, so we decided to meet up with her. Then, for the last week or so, we've been travelling with two of Jim's sisters, Marilynn and Alice: first, to Sorrento for four nights, and then to Rome for five. We saw so much, yet we've barely skimmed the surface of what Rome has to show us. It's clear we will need to make many trips to Rome to delve deeper. But first, Vicenza....

The northern town of Vicenza was another nice surprise. Parma, Verona, Vicenza...we are learning to love these mid-sized agricultural, industrial Italian cities. They are all prosperous and have been for a long time. Their old towns are nicely preserved, the streets are clean, and the arts and restaurant scene is vibrant. We'd never heard of Vicenza before we moved to Italy, but Susan's trip gave us an opportunity to visit a city that we might have just passed through on our way to Venice. In addition to not knowing anything about Vicenza, we knew next to nothing about Andrea Palladio. Palladio was the focus of Susan's trip, which was specially arranged for her and a group of her travelling friends.

Our day travelling with Susan and her group, who generously let us crash their tour, reminded us of the benefits of a good guide. We spent the day walking around Vicenza with a local expert learning about Palladio and High Renaissance architecture.

Among many things, Palladio is famous for the villas that he designed for wealthy Venetians who had summer homes in Vicenza and the surrounding area. Like the great Renaissance artists, Palladio traveled to Rome to study what the Romans had learned from the Greeks, techniques that were lost during the middle ages. In particular, he learned how to make houses less expensive using brick and stucco where marble had previously been used. (Brick and concrete construction was for all practical purposes lost during the middle ages until Renaissance architects--most importantly Brunelleschi--started studying Roman construction, particularly the Pantheon.)

One of Palladio's most famous works is La Rotonda, which we visited with Susan's group. La Rotonda was a "pleasure palace" for a retired priest who wanted a place outside of Vicenza where he could throw the types of wild and lavish parties that were common among the Catholic elite before the Reformation. The hallmark features of Palladio's country villas are integration with the surroundings, a symmetrical plan, and the use of extended porticos and a dome. In the case of La Rotonda, which sits on the crest of a hill, the design is a symmetrical square capped by a dome and four porticos that extend on each side. You'll recognize La Rotonda, because it is the basis for many lavish homes in the United States, for example, Thomas Jefferson's home at Monticello.

Palladio's last work, which was completed after he died, was the Teatro Olimpico. We really have never seen anything like this theater, which is a replica of a Roman theater housed inside a medieval building. The set uses a series of trompe-l'oeil panels to give great depth to the stage, which is only a few meters deep. Our visit to the Teatro was certainly a highlight of our visit, but the real point of the visit was to get to see Susan. We enjoyed lunch with her and in the evening an aperitivo at the beautiful Hotel Villa Michelangelo where she was staying, and then Sunday she and her group were off to explore more of Palladio's works, while Jim and I visited two nearby villages: Marostica, the site of a biannual chess game where humans and horses are the chess pieces, and Bassano del Grappa, center of grappa production. Grappa is a grape-based brandy that is made from the leftovers of the wine making process. Jim and I are not fans, but based on the crowds of people drinking grappa for breakfast the Sunday we visited Bassano, quite a few folks seem to like this spirit.

More pictures of our weekend are on Facebook.

Treasure Hunt

Armed with our GPS, a set of coordinates, 10 euros, and a couple of spoons, we headed to Florence over the weekend. The treasure hunt was sponsored by our friends Perri and Jim, who gave us a card with the coordinates, money, and spoons as a departure gift when we left Seattle. I had deduced that we were on a mission sacred to Italians and many who visit Italy: the perfect gelati.

Simply put, gelato is Italian ice cream, but technically it's not ice cream, at least not by U.S. government standards, which require a 10% minimum of milk fat to carry the name. With roughly 7% milk fat and no eggs, gelato is the lighter cousin of American ice cream, which I think makes sense, because Italians do not seem to like overly sweet desserts. However, the reduced fat in gelato doesn't mean it's not creamy. The best gelato are like silk on your tongue, often punctuated with little bursts of fruit, chocolate, or nut flavor. The purist might chose the smooth fior di latte (flower of milk), but the more adventurous might try the chunky stracciatella (fior di latte with chocolate bits) or bacio (a hazelnut chocolate combination and also the Italian word for "kiss"). But you never see Italians eating only one flavor. And when we've ordered one flavor, the clerk is always surprised, probably because there are such great flavors to marry: pineapple and coconut, coffee and mango, or cherry with chocolate chunks and almond.

Florence is considered to be the birthplace of gelato (17 C.), and according to some, the best gelato in Italy can be found here. Perri and Jim obviously had a gelateria in Florence that they wanted us to try. So at the end of a day of sightseeing, we marched into town with GPS, euros, and spoons in hand. It was exciting to walk the maze of streets and watch the arrow (us) get closer to the destination (gelato!). We turned the corner, and on the edge of a miniscule piazza was a gelateria with a line of patrons. Bingo! The rest was simple. We had been told to order "riso, if available" which we did, and we sat down in front of the nearby church and licked, slurped, and sucked the pure white concoction, enjoying the little chunks of rice in the mix.

Mission accomplished!

Gran Paradiso, a climb in the Italian Alps

It's been a busy few weeks. There was the Sarzana antique festival, a two-week street fair of antique vendors, artists, and food stalls. Jim participated in the Barga bike ride while I took the dogs for a hike in the Alpi Apuane. We attended a medieval festival in the nearby medieval village of Filleto with some of Jim's co-workers. Our friends Keith and Shay visited us from Seattle. And last weekend, Jim took a day off work, and we spent a long weekend in the Alps.

Since this was Jim's first day off since starting work in May, I left it up to him to decide where we would go. He decided that we should climb Gran Paradiso, the only 4,000-meter peak that is entirely within Italy. Ugh...I knew this was going to hurt. And more than that, I wasn't sure that this was a good idea since we hadn't climbed anything in over 5 years. I put up a weak fight and then relented when Jim said "let's just go up there and give it a try." Well, why not?

"Up there" is the Val d'Aosta, a place Jim and I had visited twice before. I'd forgotten how beautiful this area is and how rich in history. The Romans were in Aosta because it was the jumping off point to get over the Alps, but before the Romans there was a Celtic-Ligurian people who populated the area. I have no idea how the Celts from the north and the Ligurians, which is the region we live in, got together, but they must have been a hardy breed because the Romans had difficulty subduing them. Even today, the people of the valley are very independent and have an autonomous government. The official languages of Val d'Aosta are Italian and French, and in addition to climbing, skiing, and other outdoor activities, the area is known for its small-scale high-quality wineries, excellent dairy products, and wood- and metal-working.

The last time Jim and I were in Aosta was 1997, when we made an unplanned visit after completing the WNW face of Dent d'Herens. This was a climb we had unsuccessfully attempted in 1993, the summer we lived in Zermatt, Switzerland. Dent d'Herens straddles the Swiss-Italy border next to the Matterhorn, but unlike the Matterhorn, it's rarely climbed. The WNW face is a steep, narrow glacier, and once we reached the summit, we felt that we needed more gear and two ropes to safely descend. Jim asked me "did you bring any money?" I told him that I had brought my credit card ("don't leave home without it"), and we decided to climb down the Italian side of the mountain (an easier route) and make our way back to Zermatt using public transportation. We hiked all night into Italy through a raging thunderstorm. We stopped once to sleep, huddling together on the narrow porch of a small church until we were too cold to sleep. When we finally reached the trailhead, we started hitchhiking. The first car that passed (a tiny Fiat) picked us and our gear up. The woman was an architect who worked in Aosta, and she drove us to the train station, where we found an ATM. I remember plodding around Aosta in my plastic climbing boots and smelly, heavy climbing clothes, surrounded by lightly dressed, well groomed locals. We felt alien. Two bus rides later, we were in Breuill Cervinia, the Italian village at the base of the Matterhorn. A series of cable car rides brought us back to Zermatt, 24 non-stop hours after leaving the summit.

Our climb of Gran Paradiso last weekend was simpler. After spending the morning in Aosta, we drove to the village of Pont (6,843 feet). From here, it's a 2 to 3 hour hike to Victor Emmanuale II Rifugio, where we ate dinner and spent the night. We woke at 4 am, ate breakfast, and started the climb. Although the standard route was out of shape, and we were forced to take a less direct, rockier route, the conditions couldn't have been better. The full moon illuminated our route until the sun rose, the temperatures had dropped so the glacier was firm, and the skies were completely clear. We had strong winds on the approach but they abated throughout the day. Even the crowds weren't too bad on this popular climb.

We were slow on the ascent, but we weren't the last to reach the summit (13,323 feet) and enjoy the views of the Alps: the Matterhorn, Monte Rosa, Monte Blanc, Grande Jorasse. It was so clear it felt like you could see the entire chain from the Mediterranean to the Adriatic. We left the summit around noon and got back to our car about 8 pm. It was a long day, and 3 days after the climb, our legs are still tender and we are walking like mummies with a stair phobia.

To see a mix of pics from the last few weeks, you can visit my Facebook album.

Tosca in the Verona arena

When I heard about the annual summer opera series that is held in the Roman arena in Verona, I knew I could convince Jim to go with me. He wouldn't be able to resist the opportunity to sit in the same arena as the proletariat who watched gladiatorial combats and mock battles. Finished in 30 AD, the arena in Verona is the third largest Roman coliseum, after Rome and Naples. The opera series this year includes Carmen, Aida, The Barber of Seville, Turandot, and Tosca. I wanted to see a Puccini opera because he lived in the nearby towns of Lucca and Viareggio. That narrowed it down to Turandot and Tosca. I queried our friend Jim B. who is an opera buff, and he described Tosca as "a tawdry little thing. A simple, lurid story with fabulous arias, and it is short, relatively speaking." Tawdry, lurid, and short...even Jim should like this!

Verona is a 2-1/2 hour drive from here on the autostrada. Verona, like many of the northern Italian cities, is very prosperous, so it is well preserved and maintained and has nice shopping districts with great restaurants and a lively arts scene. There is a lot to see and do in Verona in addition to the opera, but we found the best part of Verona was just riding our bicycles around the old town. We did stop in and visit the Basilica of San Zeno. Built mostly in the 12th century, it is the most ornate Romanesque church in northern Italy, with a beautiful wooden ceiling that replicates a boat's keel and a number of original frescoes, some of which have ancient graffiti etched into them. One guy had carved his name in a fancy script in 1755. The body of San Zeno--patron saint of Verona--is on display in the crypt. Creepy, but quite common in European churches.

For the opera, we had bought the cheap seats. It's festival seating on the highest marble steps, which will set you back about $45. The seating on the floor of the arena costs anywhere from $100 to $250. The atmosphere in our area was more like a baseball game than an opera with folks casually dressed and vendors selling cold drinks and renting cushions. This was in contrast to the scene on the floor, where wine was being served to women and men wearing their finest. The opera, which is in three acts, started at 9 and finished at 11:30. The short story of Tosca is that she tries to save her imprisoned lover by striking a deal with the general who lusts for her and holds her lover captive. She kills the general after she believes the deal is sealed, but the general, never had any intention to spare her lover. Tosca's lover is killed by a firing squad, and Tosca then jumps to her death as they come to arrest her for the general's murder. Not the most uplifting story, but the set was fascinating, the orchestra was fantastic, and, despite the size of the venue and no amplification, the singers voices magically found their way to our remote ears and, at times, with force! I had a wonderful time, and Jim conceded that he was willing to see another opera, but it had to be The Barber of Seville because of some connection with Bugs Bunny.

After I shot my obligatory Bella-and-Bruno-go-to-[famous town in Europe] photo, we drove home with a detour to the Valpolicella wine producing region near Lake Garda. Our guidebook suggested lunch in the tiny hamlet of San Giorgio. It was a good recommendation. We ordered a mixed plate of meats and cheeses and a half carafe of Valpolicella. We sat alone on a terrace overlooking the vineyards with Lake Garda in the distance and let some of Sunday afternoon slip away.

A few events

With the house shipment over, we are more able to travel about and do things. Last weekend, we drove an hour from here up into the Apennine mountains. This mountain range is small compared to the Alps, but is still impressive with 9,000-foot peaks, a number of ski areas, and a whole lot of marble mines. I've decided marble is to Italy like wood is to the U.S. Everything here is made of marble: floors, tables, window sills, base boards, countertops, sinks, tubs. In fact, Jim pointed out to me the other day that our driveway is made from crushed bits of marble! Marble isn't used structurally, like wood is in American homes, but it is used ornamentally everywhere. It is particularly common in this area because of the Carrara marble mines just south of us. (Remember the opening chase scene in the James Bond movie Quantum Solace? That's shot in the Carrara marble mines.) Our hike took us above the mines and the tree zone, and we walked an empty trail, most of which was on a stone road that could have only been built by the Romans, who also liked this area for its marble. We hiked to a pass where we had beautiful views of the Mediterranean below.

We also recently went to a concert in Lucca. Each summer the beautiful walled city of Lucca hosts a locally famous concert series. This year's lineup included Burt Bacharach, Dave Mathews Band, James Taylor, John Fogarty, and others. We decided to go see Moby, who's electronically produced music is a favorite of ours; it always seems to find its way into our slide and video shows. We were curious what the Lucca concert scene would be like, and we were interested in seeing how Moby's electronic music would be performed live. The concert scene was wonderful with a small crowd of about 2,000 in the immense, tree-lined Piazza Napoleone, which could have handled 10,000. It was beautiful star-filled night, and Moby come on the stage with his all-female band, except a token male drummer. In addition to the drummer and a bass player, he was supported by two violinists, who looked like young graduates of Juilliard's, and two awesome female vocalists who more than made up for Moby's very average voice. They played dance music for two hours, and the crowd obliged.

Our most recent outing was last Thursday. Neighbors who are interested in helping us learn Italian invited us to a dinner at an agriturismo. Agriturismos are Italian farms that offer accommodation and food. If you've never heard of agriturismos and you come to Italy, you must check them out. They range from rustic to rather elegant, and they can be wonderful places to stay at an excellent value. Most of them are working farms and many of them are wine producers, like the agriturismo that we went to for dinner. We joined about 30 people who are members of a dinner club for this six-course, five-hour meal, which included three varieties of the owner's wine. As much as we enjoyed the food and wine, Jim and I enjoyed listening to the lively discussions at the table. At one point, after a particularly long heated discussion, Jim turned to our neighbor Sonia and asked what they were talking about. He was sure it was politics or religion because of the passion around the discussion. No, Sonia said calmly, they are discussing how big the pieces of meat should be in a ragu sauce. Of course!

Moved In!

After resolving a problem with Italy customs, our household shipment arrived on July 20, three weeks after moving into our house. I think I wrote in an earlier blog that I didn't mind living without our stuff because our lives were simple and we were content. But after about 10 days, that feeling wore off and we were anxious to get our things. It was the little stuff that I wanted and needed: a garlic press, the dog nail trimmers, a change of sheets, my Italian cookbook. We also needed our bikes so that if Jim drove to work, I had a way to get off the hill, and if I needed the car, he could ride into work.

The unpacking went well after the movers found our house. This is becoming a common problem, and I'm having to learn phrases such as "the very end of the road," "the last house on the paved road," and "follow the signs for Via Prulla 72-76." You see, our address according to the owner is Via Prulla 1/A. It makes sense because our neighbor, who built this house, has a number 1 on her gate, but apparently the city has recently renumbered all of the houses, and we are no longer 1/A, although that is what's on every contract and document we've signed. Our neighbor's new number is 76, so we are either 77 or 76/A, but no one seems to know or care. I talked to the postman, and he says he will deliver the mail to us for 1/A, so now I just need to learn how to tell people to get here.

It took most of a week to get unpacked and set up. We're mostly satisfied with the 8,000+ pounds of gear that we chose to bring with us (fortunately we didn't bring the 12,000 pounds we originally planned); however, given this particular house, we should have left behind more of our photos and brought a chainsaw and our gas-powered weed trimmer instead. It's strange to see our furniture in this Italian farmhouse, but we are very comfortable, as this picture of Jim shows, and we are now accepting reservations for our spare bedroom!

A typical day

My Dad asked me, "tell me about a typical day." I thought about that. No day is typical yet. Every day is different. There are some consistencies now that we've moved into our house. We have coffee in the morning, Jim goes to work, I walk the dogs, I do various other things that I have a hard time accounting for, Jim comes home from work, we drink wine and eat dinner on the terrace, we go to bed. But that's pretty much what our days were like in Seattle, except that I was more gainfully employed and the weather wasn't reliable enough to eat outside every night. And that description misses the nuances of living in Italy where each day is different and something disturbing, funny, crazy, or heartwarming happens.

Take today for example. I drove Jim to work because I needed the car. I needed the car because after three days at the house I need to come off the hill. You see, my life right now is fairly limited, you might even say it's monastic. The simplicity and solitude is nice, and I enjoy my walks and my time studying Italian, but after three days I need to see and do something different, even if it is just getting groceries in Sarzana. Today, I actually had a few tasks, but before we leave to drive Jim to work, I receive a call from Arturo, the handyman. Amazingly, I manage to understand that he is coming to the house, although I'm not exactly sure why. He wants to come in the morning, but we agree on 3 pm. My first successful phone conversation in Italian.

After dropping Jim off at work, I drive to Lerici and park just outside the no-drive zone. I walk the dogs into town and after several altercations with other dogs, I decide to let the dogs loose on the breakwater, which I had done many times in the past. "Signora. Signora. Signora!" Damn, she's talking to me. I turned. "Lah, lah, lah, lah, cani! Lah, lah, lah, lah non permesso! Lah, lah, lah, lah ...." I don't understand much Italian yet, but I do understood that she doesn't think I should let the dogs off-leash on the breakwater. I put the dogs on leash and walk into town.

I visit our real estate agent in hopes that she can help me figure out the 14-page, 4-part contract that arrived in the mail from the electricity company. Fortunately, Alessia says she will take care of it. A good thing for me, because I had started to translate the forms using Google Translate, but when I got to the part that translated to "this form needs to be filled out by the Chamber of Commerce," I knew I needed help.

Back at the car, I wonder what those papers are under my rear windshield wiper. It can't be a ticket because I parked in this spot many times while living in Lerici. It is a ticket. After wandering around, I see a new sign that says as of today only residents can park here. Crap!

I need to get away and the dogs haven't had much exercise, so I drive to a spot on the Magra River that Bruno and Bella love. It's an estuary full of ducks and Bruno swims after one group until they take flight and then he swims after another. No one is around except a few guys fishing in the river, but a man suddenly appears and starts talking to me. I understand from him that there are lots of ducklings around. He's concerned about the dogs hurting them. I'm feeling a little beat up today, but this man is very nice and I understand his concern. I call in the dogs, and we head for home.

At 3 p.m., as promised, Arturo shows up. He's with another man, who turns out to be an electrician who our landlord has sent to look at the dishwasher, which caught fire last Sunday. Jim and I had been sitting on the terrace when we heard a strange popping noise from inside the house. When I walked into the kitchen, the dishwasher, which we have yet to use because we have only a few dishes, was spewing smoke and sparks. The electrician confirmed that the dishwasher was rotto, broken. The two men leave but not before Arturo hands me a tray of produce from his garden. It weighs about 10 pounds, and the vegetables and herbs are absolutely beautiful. I like Arturo. He's very patient with my limited Italian. If I don't understand him, he just gets closer to me and talks louder. He also loves Bruno. When he called me earlier in the day, he said "Come sta Bruno?" When he arrived, he got down on his knees and pulled Bruno's head into his chest and gently rubbed it.

Jim comes home. We drink a bottle of wine on the terrace and watch the sunset through the pine trees. We have pasta with a sauce of Arturo's fresh vegetables. The end of another typical day.

l'ultimo della strada

Jim and I have been living here for a little more than a week. And while we are eager for our household shipment to arrive, we are also enjoying the pace of life at the end of the road. We have a table and chairs, a bed, a pot and a pan, enough silverware to eat with, a referigerator, and a pantry full of Italian goodies. Really, what more do we need?

For me, this house is a fun departure from our home in Kirkland. From Pacific Northwest woodframe home to Italian country stone farmhouse. There are many contrasts, but the biggest is the size. This house is probably one-third to one-half the size of our Kirkland home. The walls are two feet thick and all of the windows are covered by beautiful wrought-iron grates. Unlike our Kirkland home, which is nestled into a vale, this house sits on the crest of a hill. From this perch, the farmhouse is bright and cooled by a constant breeze. The owner has left much of the artwork and some of the furniture that was in the house, which used to be rented out as a vacation home. Some of the paintings are 400 years old and are dark and foreboding. Beautifully hand-painted ceramics and old maps cover many of the walls. We had the owner leave the two amoires because there are no closets in this house. It will be interesting to see how our Scandinavian-style furniture and Pacific Northwest art and photos fits in with the decor here.


For Jim, this is a wonderful place to come to in the evening after work. It's worth the 30-minute commute to have the solitude and vistas. Half of Jim's commute is just getting up and down the hill that we live on. The other half is a mix of country road, city street, and highway. The most amazing thing is that there is only one stop between here and Jim's work. The European system of roundabouts is impressive. No more sitting at red lights with the engine idling.

This weekend will be our first at the house. Last weekend we drove to Florence to look at a motorcycle and do a little reconnaissance. It boggles our minds: it's a 1-1/2 hour drive to Florence. And because it's so close, we felt little pressure to see the sites. In fact, we only visited one site (the Baptistery), and then spent the rest of our time walking around, getting our bearings, and, of course, eating.

Next week our household shipment arrives. There are a number of things that we are eager to have, but mostly we just want to get unpacked and finished with this transition so that we can get on with living in Italy.

Leaving Lerici

Tuesday morning I load our few belongings into our car and drive from Lerici to our new home near Falcinello. It's fortunate that we don't have much to move, because Jim is at sea and because Lerici has a no-drive zone for visitors in the summer and we are parked just outside that zone, about 200 yards up the road. I want to ignore this restriction, but the cameras at the beginning of the zone prevent me from tempting a ticket. Everyone has told us that if you try to sneak into the zone, you should expect a ticket in the mail in 3 to 6 months.

It takes me over two hours to ferry our baggage up to our recently purchased 2002 VW station wagon, "Dora." The last load includes Bella and Boomer, who squeeze into the remaining space.

Lerici was the perfect place to spend our first six weeks in Italy. Jim commuted to work by bus; I walked everywhere. The village was beautiful, the people were generally friendly despite being overrun by tourists, and our landlords were wonderful. But the location had its challenges. The dogs couldn't leave the apartment without being on leashes, particularly after Boomer was caught with the owner's prized turtle in his mouth in our bedroom! Walking the dogs was acrobatic at times, trying to maneuver the two of them away from people, dogs, food and tidying up after them. (You can't really appreciate how much dogs poop until you have to pick up every one of these gifts!) Also, it was clear that we weren't going to get used to the noise. The buses, the two-stroke engines, the loud TVs were too much for our spoiled suburban-American ears.

Driving the road to our new home was like doing yoga. I feel my body relax and my mind empty. The road up here has me laughing; although not everyone would find it funny. It's so narrow in places that it's challenging for one car to get through. The switchbacks are so tight and the road forks in so many places that frequently the main road disappears until the last second. Fortunately, there is little traffic. It takes me 12 minutes to drive the length of Via Prulla. When I can drive no farther, I park the car and let the dogs out. We are home.


I've spent the last two days marveling at the 1900-built, recently renovated farmhouse and the surrounding views. The house sits on a hillcrest. To the south is our nearest neighbor who has a lovely villa with swimming pool and friendly old German shephard. To the east, houses with red tile roofs are sprinkled throughout the forested hills. To the north is a beautiful grove of pines with an inviting trail that has yet to be explored. To the west, expansive views of the sea and the town of Sarzana below. The property has eight olive trees, which is enough to harvest and press for our own supply. It also has fig, pear, apple, and cherry trees. The parking area has a 3-foot-high hedge of rosemary that Boomer must be peeing on because he smells like the herb, and dill and oregano are sprouting up everywhere. There are signs of owl and wild boar, which is a delicacy in this area, and yesterday I saw a raptor fly low over the house.

Our friend, Jim Pollock, used to have a saying about his magnificent home overlooking Lake Washington: "Is this a little slice of heaven or what?" In fact, he said it so much that a friend turned it into an acronym so that it was quicker to say: ITALSOHOW. That's how I'm feeling now and as I write am realizing that the acronym almost spells "Italy." Maybe I can work a "Y" into Jim's saying! "Is this a little yard of heaven or what?" Bella and Bruno think so!