The Luncheon

I went to a luncheon given by my friends Marcello and Roberto with my Honey and our next door neighbors and first friends in Italy, Emily and Enzo. I share two photos so you can smile as we did, be delighted as we were.  Roberto fashioned ladybugs from cherry tomatoes and olive pieces for the appetizer course and dolphins from bananas and grapes for the fruit course; our appetites were sparked by the symmetrical beauty of the food and our surprised delight at a friend's efforts on our behalf.

It gives you a sense of why I love living here. Imagine this thoughtful, delightful, creative touch to a simple luncheon with friends? Add in the conversation, the day temperate enough to be enjoyed outdoors and the sheer good will of building relationships across language and cultural boundaries and it defines more than anything else "la dolce vita" for me. Sweet indeed.

Tea Parties Change Lives

This somewhat sensationalistic headline hearkens back to my roots in Boston. I couldn't resist! But, tea parties can be fun and perhaps even change lives. I remember liking them when I was a child but I wasn't sure my grandchildren, who live in the age of punchy video games and 3-D movies, would find this slow, simple activity fun as well.

Years ago, I bought a beautiful, China tea set with roses and gold gilding and brought it out in August for it's initiation while the grandchildren were here for their month long visit. OK, I'll fess up and admit that I bought the tea set in Maine before my granddaughter was even born, in the hopes that my daughter would have a little girl who would love tea parties. But, much to my surprise, my active, never still, video playing grandson loved our tea parties just as much as my granddaughter!

Here are some of the unexpected things that happened:


Both kids LOVED having tea parties and requested them when I didn't plan them. They also asked for napkin rings on the napkins because they were sparkly and colorful. And cookies on a special plate. They seemed enthralled.

Both kids liked to pour their own tea and took great care to do it without spilling or breaking. Even the 4 year old.

They sat quietly and used their best manners.
I was surprised when my grandson, who frequently has to be reminded of the importance of good manners, spontaneously said things like: "Would you care for some sugar?" or "Can I pour you some milk?" On his own. At age 8. In his most refined voice.

Both talked about topics that interested them and that didn't have to do with bodily parts or functions. Without reminders.

 If I forgot any part of our tea ceremony, they would remind me, and wait until I added whatever was missing so each time was complete. It mattered.

 I don't take sugar in my tea, just milk, but both kids prefer their black tea with milk and sugar. My grandson told me: "A little bit of sugar makes it easier to drink." Sound familiar?

So, drinking tea leads to wisdom as well as changing lives. 

Did I mention how much I enjoyed these delightful interludes? How much I liked being with my grandchildren partaking in this ageless ritual of sharing drink and food. Taking tea together, the drink of our ancestors, in hospitality and harmony.

Suspending our usual "go my own way" activities to focus on each other and the simple joy of good tea, in beautiful cups with a touch of sweetness.

The Long Way Home

It started as a short and simple itinerary on Ryan Air: Dublin, Ireland to Stansted, England to Pescara, Italy. Monday, 0630 to 1200. That changed when the first flight was delayed arriving in London, I had to reclaim my bag and recheck it for the second flight (even though it was the same airline) and the designated time for boarding that flight was closed, although it hadn't yet left and wouldn't for another 20 minutes. Since this was the only flight to Pescara and I really wanted to get home I changed my ticket to the 1815 flight to Rome and planned to take the bus to Pescara from there. That's when my adventure began.

In Stansted I noticed that my phone needed to be charged in order to call my friend who was picking me up at noon. I emailed her first and found that computer access costs 3 Pounds Sterling for 10 minutes! I then bought an adapter, found an outlet, since the ones with the comfy chairs provided by the airport for that purpose were too small to accept the adapter, and plugged it in. Nothing. I went to the fellow in the adapter store who said the airport doesn't let their outlets be used to charge phones. He whispered conspiratorially that there was one outlet I could use in the ladies room. So I stood in the (very busy) ladies room for an hour while my cell phone charged enough to text my friend.

I found comfortable places in Stansted to sit, passable places to eat, a good book to read and hunkered down for the wait. At the appointed hour I flew to Ciampino airport, Rome. When I went to find the bus for Pescara, they said it actually leaves from Termini but that there was bus service to there. I bought a ticket and off I went once the bus was full enough to leave. At Termini I saw a workman who told me the bus actually leaves from Tipiturno but that I could take the train there. Not easy with 2 suitcases one of which weighs 33 pounds and the train is down 2 long flights, up one and down a third with no escalators.

What I didn't know was that the last bus leaves at 2300 and I finally arrived at 2310. A helpful man suggested that I try the train station for a train to Pescara so I returned to the train station which looked big, dark and closed. I walked around however and found some workmen out back and the night foreman, Ricardo. It was about midnight by then and he said the next train to Pescara was 0445. I saw some benches inside and said I would wait in there. "No, no, no signora! You cannot stay in there and your bags won't be safe there." I had thought the men I saw laying on the benches were waiting for morning trains too. Sometimes I can be naive like that. He let me know they were vagrants and various dicey characters.

He was very solicitous and quickly stowed my bags in his office. He showed me a bench not far from his office that I could sit on. Unfortunately, it was located outside so I dug out my sweater and jacket to stay warm. Fortunately, it was Italy and warmer than Ireland at this time of year. A group of homeless men wandered in and decided to have a party on the benches next to me. Lots of story telling, singing, laughing and surreptitious drinking ensued. Roberto checked on me frequently, invited me to have coffee with him and his co-workers and in general took good care of me until the train arrived. He was sweet and hospitable and when I told him how much I appreciated his kindness, he said: "But of course, I'm Italian! This is what Italians do". He was right in my experience. Have I mentioned that I love Italians?

At train time he walked me through the tunnels to the train and gave me over to the conductor after telling him my story. The conductor said that the train to Pescara was actually later in the day and his train was going to Avezzano but that I could get the train to Pescara from there at 0950. So off I went yet again with the elusive goal of getting home.

Although the train made frequent stops and therefore took a long time (Pescara is only 2 1/2 hours from Rome), it was such a beautiful trip. It winds through the mountains and I saw all the lovely towns and even a castle up close that I had seen in the distance on our car trips. The day dawned sunny, clear and perfect for sight seeing. We were so high at one point that we were looking down on an old, pretty town in the early morning light. Some of the stone houses and churches along the way seemed carved into the mountains. The hills, vineyards, groves and gardens were right out of a National Geographic program and so beautiful. I'd drift off and be surprised by gorgeous vistas each time I opened my eyes. I made myself stay awake to enjoy it. I felt so glad to be living in this part of Italy. When we got to Avezzano, the conductor was replaced by someone else and he walked me to the station, showed me where to buy my ticket, where to eat and wait. Another kind gesture.

The next leg of the journey took until 1215 and did indeed get me to Pescara- just 24 hours later than I planned! A short taxi ride to Cittá Sant'Angelo brought me home with so many unexpected impressions and experiences.

When my grandson was 3 he used to start every walk outdoors with the excited exhortation: "Let's go have an adventure!". Once I got over the shock of not getting on my plane, I remembered his words and consciously decided to see it as an adventure. I did and it was! Added cost to the trip- a lot; the trip itself- priceless.

Let's Make a Cake

Our plan was to clean house yesterday and go to the beach today. But in his fun way when we finished the clean up, John said: let's go to the beach for the couple of hours left in the day." Off we went, had a great time and made it home to a spectacular sunset. The photo is from our balcony. As luck would have it, it rained today and I was glad we took the time for fun yesterday.
Although we had a different kind of fun today. Our neighbor had 4 out of 5 of her daughters visiting with their spouses, boyfriends or friends. It's her youngest daughter's birthday and she was not feeling up to the job of making the cake along with everything else that needed doing so we volunteered.
John made a yummy tiramisú (his first and learned at his cooking class in Tuscany. [Yes, I shamelessly give him cooking classes of all kinds as well as cookbooks, anything to keep him in the kitchen!]) We bought a fruit pie from the local bakery as well and also served varieties of berries with vanilla yogurt. The other photo is of the goodies. Everyone had a great time and we enjoyed contributing to the festivities and spending time with such nice people. It is, indeed, the simple things that make life so rich.

A Magic Moment

It was a such a simple but magic moment: Early in the morning of August 15 on our way to a family celebration in Rocca de Mezzo in the mountains with another couple, we stopped at a castle in Celano. We were marveling at how large and beautiful it was as we walked around it. When we reached the back of the castle we saw an elderly woman in her 80's standing in front of a cafe with jewelry in her hand. We said "Boun giorrno" feeling the friendliness of the great feast day of ferragosto being celebrated all over Italy. She held out her hand and asked if My friend would help her put on her earrings and necklace. The simplicity of her trusting gesture was touching. She said she hadn't been able to wear her jewelry for 10 years because she isn't able to fasten it for herself any longer. But today, she too felt the specialness of the day and wanted to dress up by wearing her gold earrings and necklace.
Of course my friend helped her and we told her how lovely she looked. The woman then invited us in for morning espresso. Turns out she has run a local cafe for 50 years, never married and regaled us with stories about her girlhood in the mountains, including having to ride a donkey to Rocca di Mezzo to get fire wood. She wouldn't accept our offer to pay for the coffee and we walked away knowing we had just had a very special encounter- another Italian moment.
It probably made both our day, hers and ours. The 4 of us talked about it all day, marveled at the simple good we can do for one another and how we affect each another. We shared it with everyone (like now!). Sometimes you just know you've been part of magic.

International Evening

It was a simple invitation- "come to dinner" from a couple that we had met at our friends house and liked immediately. You know the kind- warm, friendly and interesting. So we went. Dinner was served outside since the weather has been warm (hot during the day!). Their garden was lovely and fragrant and the night air soft. Their hospitality was gracious- focused but fun.
What was amazing was the mix of people there. 2 Germans married to Italians, 5 native born Italians either spouses or boy/girlfriends of people of other nationalities, an Italian born and brought up in South Africa but now living here and married to an Italian, their 2 young adult children born in South Africa and now living in Italy, an adult child of the host couple who is Italian living in England and trilingual (Italian, German, English), his English girlfriend, his 2 teenage children who live in England, 2 Americans (John and me) and 1 little boy who spoke to his mother and our hostess in German and his father and everyone else in Italian!
What a fabulous evening we spent! The travels, languages, perspectives, experiences of those present made for fascinating exchanges. The conversation was stimulating, of course, and good natured sharing and laughter ruled the night. It was one of those evenings I so enjoyed that I didn't want it to end (and, indeed, it was almost midnight before we left). As we talked and marveled afterwards, I realized that this sort of experience was one of the dreams I had in moving to Italy. I hoped for the mix of people and cultures present this evening, inspiring and enriching all. Surely this inter-nationality is the future of our species if we are to survive and we had a tantalizing taste now. It was good, deeply nourishing.

An Italian Moment

My dear friend of 22 years, Annee, has been visiting with a mutual friend, Richard, whom we met in Antigua. She wanted to find her grandmother's town, Santa Croce, in the next province of Molise to apply for her birth certificate. We're into having adventures so off we went with our map, Annee's newly acquired Italian language skills (from 3 weeks at school in Sienna) and our hope. With only one wrong turn, which ended us on a narrow dirt road where we met a nice young man who gave us directions, we came to a town close to her grandmother's and took a break to get caffé. In the town, 2 men argued about the best way to send us to Santa Croce di Magliano while we waited for our marching orders. Italians like a good argument and they were no exception! We followed the directions of the man who won and soon reached what turned out to be a good size town in this remote, rural province. Repairs are still being made on the damage made by an earthquake 7 years ago.
It's always a toss up whether or not places are going to be open after 12 so we hoped for the best as we located the Municipio at 1 pm. Well, it was open until 2 pm so Annee went in to meet Carlo to make application for the birth certificate. Carlo loved his work and took immediate interest in Annee's request since his mother had the same name as Annee's grandmother. "Hmmm, a curiosity" said he and went to work searching the large, hand written ledgers from the late 1800's. He not only found the right pertinent details but gave them to her then and there with his official seal. No application necessary- the real thing quickly and easily. She was walking on clouds as she came out with the precious document in hand and the memory of time with this helpful man. We had a picnic in her grandmother's town to celebrate and listen to the story.
John, in his sweetest and most generous self, suggested we go to Annee's grandfather's town 8 kilometers away since we were in the area. Anne was reluctant to ask this but was thrilled and off we went in search of another adventure.
When we got to Colletorto it was 3 pm and everything was closed up tight, including the Municipio. Scaffolding was everywhere from earthquake repairs in this town as well. Anne had resigned herself to just seeing his town as enough when we saw an open bar in the square. It had a gelato sign out front which caught my eye and I suggested we go there before our trip back (we've been doing serious gelato comparisons all over!). Anne tried out her language skills asking 2 local men about her cousin first and then her grandfather. She did great and they were talking animatedly in no time. After the mandatory argument between the 2 men, they told her not only was her grandfather's house still standing but that a distant cousin was living in it with his wife and it was a mere 300 meters from where we stood! "Go see it" they urged. Off we went and read the address labels on the mailboxes. Some were faded, however, and we couldn't find her grandfather's name which her cousin shared. We met a young man and asked him where the cousin lived. "I'll show you" and he pointed out #7. Annee rang the bell and a woman answered asking Anne who she was. When she heard about Annee's grandfather, her eyes filled with tears and she invited us all in.
Annee's Italian was put to the test as she told her story to Maria. Maria had been awakened from her mid-day nap and went to awaken her husband to tell him the amazing news of the visit of his distant cousin from America. Giovani is a retired teacher and was obviously thrilled at this rare event. We spent 2 hours sharing stories, history, language lessons, chocolates and making sweet memories not just for Annee and her cousins but for us as well. What a special thing to witness, be part of and get to treasure. Their gracious hospitality and warm, welcome was evident as just part of who they are. It ended in hugs and kisses and tears and thank yous all around. It was an Italian moment to be retold and savored for years to come.
It also made me realize the magic of being able to speak the language well and I signed up for intensive lessons myself!