Italian journal 2018 -- final installment

Here's the final slice of the diary I kept during our first trip to Italy with Leo. Re-reading my notes, I see my journal was more of a hodge-podge of reminders and lists, with much less reflection on my complicated ties to the crazy boot nation known as Italy. But that's the nature of travel with children. I needed to take Leo to Italy -- to marry the two parts of my life -- even if it left me little time to write while there. My apologies that the reading isn't particularly engrossing, but the trip, and the practice of recording my thoughts as I reunited with my old adopted country, reminded me of something I wrote in another Italian trip diary: I want to live in Italy and the US, or really Italy and somewhere else. Because everywhere is somewhere else compared to Italy. Thank you for reading!
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Aug. 2, 2018

Scoperta: Santissima Annunziata in the piazza of the same name is stunning (duh). A gold-encrusted ceiling, plus an altar set off by a railing that encircles it completely (it's like a little altar-island), covered by a “roof” festooned with golden angels. (Editor’s note: This description fails on all levels. The altar is heartstopping.)

Scoperta #2, in piazza Santissima Annunziata – the rooftop cafe of the Museo degli Innocenti. Vista da mozzafiato. Breathtaking view of the city – the Duomo upclose, in the background the hills. Also a very elegant bar!

Aug. 3, 2018

Ritual visit to the Mercato di Sant’Ambrogio where I used to do my produce shopping when I lived in Florence. Leo and I made the rounds of the outdoor produce vendors then went inside to buy some gorgonzola, just as I used to do.

I looked at the shoes on the far side of the market and then darted across the piazza to the mercatino antiquariato. Antiquing in Florence? Don’t mind if I do.

Life in Italy vs Life in the U.S. (a few observations)

My life in Italy is lived often on foot. Eating and drinking often, and often outside the (my) home.

Constantly collecting receipts from said eating and drinking. Lots of wanting, lots of consuming.

Life in the USA: Probably less activity, but also less stimulation – in tutti sensi con lati positivi e negativi…in every way, with positive and negative connotations. 

(Editor’s note, post trip: Meaning, I am often overstimulated in Italy – and unable to sleep. Perhaps because I am used to an America where there isn’t a piazza every few streets, window-shopping is at a minimum (outside of the big cities) and even if there are eateries every few yards, you’re not necessarily as tempted to stop (Taco Bell, etc). In Italy there are also constant temptations for consumerism – probably like living in NYC. Is that good? I want everything in Italy. The velvet Santo Spirito pillow, the house shoes from the pharmacy like I used to wear, the Moka with Alpinista top even though I have too many mokas already. See a pattern?)

Leo is learning some Italian. At the supermarket in Florence, for example, he knew to say “Leo” (pronounced “Layo”) when the cashier asked him, “Come ti chiami?” He can also respond correctly to these questions: “Ti piace la pasta?” (Do you like pasta?) and “Da dove vieni?” (Where are you from?”)

Future trips?

*How about a Tuscany-only trip (for old time’s sake): Montalcino, Montepulciano, Colle Val D’Elsa, Volterra; Val D’Orcia

*Or: one week in Rome

Aug 3, 2018 -- STILL!

On the highway between Rome and Naples, and we are surrounded by some of the highest mountains I’ve ever seen. Gorgeous. Let’s go climbing!

Best dishes of the trip so far:

*Le pappardelle al ragu di anatra (wide noodle pasta with a duck-based ragu sauce) – Pistoia

*Le pappardelle ai funghi con verdure (Abetone -- outside of Pistoia)

*Mixed antipasto – Il Quartino a Sesto (thanks Ilaria e Rosario!)
(Last entry added at the end of the trip -- read on)

*I troccoli allo scoglio – in Vieste (they had me at ‘scoglio’)

Best ciambelline so far (very important ranking)

*Caffe Pinti (corner of Borgo Pinti and Via Giusti) -- Florence

*Coronas Cafe – via dei Calzaiuoli – produzione propria ma ci mancherebbe

*Bar at the foot of Ponte alla Carraia, via Serragli side
(Last entry added at the end of the trip)

*Panificio Giuffredda – Defensola neighborhood, Vieste

Stopping at the autogrill on our way down south, we order sandwiches for lunch and the cashier automatically asks, “Il caffe lo vuole dopo?” Do you want a coffee after your meal?

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From the Department of business cards I saved: Our fresh fish diet in Puglia, courtesy of La Pescheria, Loc. Defensola, 68, in Vieste. Where the fishmonger asked Leo, “Come ti chiami?” and he not only correctly replied, “Leo,” but also knew the answer to “Quanti anni hai?” (The response: Sei – 6). Another moment where a heart of attack of happiness nearly leveled me!

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August 9, 2018

So much goes unrecorded, and not recorded until later when it’s come to seem like a totally normal event. Like:

*Walking – but sometimes careening -- down a rock-strewn path to reach our preferred beach in Vieste (Puglia), only to then walk across the tiny spit of a beach and through the water to reach a second even better beach. (Just like Jersey! Well, no, not at all).

*The blessed saltiness of spaghetti alle vongole; you’re inhaling the sea with every bite

*Also Italians on vacation – an encyclopedia of habits in and of itself (i.e., the gear they pack – including proper lunches with real utensils and snacks, not handfuls of sandy potato chips – in order to stay at the beach ALL DAY. And I mean ALL DAY).

*Related: how finding some Italian habits annoying is a gift – that’s deep immersion

*The light – the sunlight, especially at 5 pm. Artists, of course, have known this about Italy for centuries but it doesn’t lessen the "eureka moment" you might have every day here.

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Cristiano cannot host us in his apartment in Naples because a pipe burst so we call the B and B where we stayed the last time we were in San Marco and managgia, they are hosting a wedding party so the main hotel – the beautiful, stone, medieval building – is occupied but there is a satellite location we can stay at.

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Aug. 4, 2018

First night in San Marco (Mike’s grandfather’s town) and it’s "summer fest." 

We arrive tired from the drive and from two weeks of full-on vacationing only to find our hotel (the satellite location) is two feet from a blaring musical block party of sorts that went on long into the night. Quiet mountain town? Not so much. I took melatonin, inserted ear plugs and drifted off to intermittent sleep.

By music, I mean there was a live band (they played a version of Gianna Nannini’s "America," the only bright spot of the night) AND a DJ playing techno tunes.

Yes: techno music hammering our little hotel where our little angel somehow managed to sleep (although only about 9 hours). Ahhh....Italy!

Aug 5

How to rebuild “Marisa” in a way that lifts it above the traditional original stesura that is trite and lifeless? Note to self: Re-read Alice Munro short stories.

Is this worth the time or what about “Polly’s Guide to Italian Men”?

We are finally at a low moment in the trip – our stay in San Marco, two nights of ear-splitting music for the majority of the night. Not 2-3 hours, because they probably played from 10 pm to 3am or 4am (I declined to look at my watch for fear of flying into a rage).

Best laid plans of mice and men. We had talked up the visit to the town so much to Leo (who christened it “Cocca-town” since half the population or more has "Cocca" as a surname). Well, I suppose really the visit was only disappointing to the adults so onward and upward.

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We are on the coast of Puglia, “immersi nel verde” (as hotel brochures like to say) but it’s a verde molto particolare. The Airbnb house isn’t in a forest ("verde") but rather a grove of olive trees, fig trees, palm trees, etc.

We are staying in the town of Vieste in an area called Defensola. When we arrived, we were tired from the long journey, and we stopped at a gas station where there was also a restaurant. (Not so odd in a smaller town, especially a resort town like Vieste,) And it was there that I ate the best spaghetti alle vongole I’ve ever had (spaghetti with clam sauce, but it was a type of clam I’ve never had stateside – long and meaty). Stunningly good.

Leo asks, “Mommy, what’s your favorite number to count to?

And he asks, “What’s your favorite part of Italy?”

And also, “Mommy, what’s your favorite sea animal?”

One more: “Mommy, what’s your least favorite odd number?”

(Editor’s note: these are actual questions, transcribed as close to the moment uttered as possible so as to ensure authenticity. I want wallpaper with these questions. I want these questions to never end. Oh and for the record: 100, Florence, sea turtle and 11).

In Vieste, there’s no orario continuato. Shops – even the larger supermarkets – close for lunch. What a throwback.

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How this trip differs from the last two: full immersion vs partial immersion.

This is a trip of the latter, which shamefully leaves me hungering for encounters with Italian, with any circumstance in which I can brush up against Italian life. Even a car radio blaring the voice of the DJ! (Editor’s note: when you’re alone, you can do anything, go anywhere, talk to anyone as long as you want)

Aug. 8

7:25 a.m.

Awake, alone, translating, scribbling notes nel bel mezzo della campagna pugliese. I’m surrounded by olive and fig trees, as I mentioned, and I feel like the only person alive. Yay! (I can hear, however, noises from birds and other animals lurking about plus the clink of the coffee spoons in the vacation rental next door).

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I, too, am learning new words! Mancino = lefty. (Leo!)

Aug 9

Vieste is the Italian summer holiday headquarters.

We are just outside the town and in an area dominated by vacation villaggi – only Italians would dream this up. They’re not resorts – few stars/stele – but with the all-inclusive vibe (including presumably a coffee bar!). Everyone is squeezed in on top of each other – which is how they like it! 

Even in the digital age, Italians still hunger for human contact.

Aug 11

Final morning of the trip. We’re in Focene, a seaside town outside of Rome by the airport. Note for future trips, Jeanne: the beach towns near the Rome airport! That’s where it’s at.

As I write, I am eating the largest ciambellina I’ve ever seen (hot from the oven!). Perfetto!

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