Giorni. The plural of Giorno: meaning day. So the vacation we are about to take for 12 giorni is truly a journey. Another adventure in a series of so many. We are looking forward to Brian being off work. Baxter is spiffing up the plant in time for shut-down and a visit from the big-wigs. Brian gets to skip shut-down and go on vacation. Many of you might realize the significance of the last statement. For those who don't: Brian usualy runs shut-down which means we don't get to see him for about a month everytime it happens (3 times last year.) So we are doing shut down IN STYLE: Cinque Terra, Pisa, Nice, Monaco, Marseilles, some other French towns, Paris, Black forest in Germany, Salzburg and Vienna. In 12 days. Dodieichi giorni. Con la machina. Con quatro filgli. Mama Mia!!!
Buon Viaggio.
Hope to connect with you on the road...
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
Holy Roma
We went to Roma again. This time our mission (and the kids grudgingly accepted it) was to see "Holy Rome."
Vatican, St. Peter's, Pieta, Sistine Chapel... that sort of thing. Since we again drove in and parked at the Villa Borghese
(which, as such, we have yet to see other than "Wait! what does that sign say!!! Is the parking this way or that way????")
we needed to find our way over to the Vatican by way of...McDonalds. It was a beautiful McDonalds and the kids
thoroughly enjoyed it. So the walking tour began on the streets of hot and sticky Roma. We hit the Trevi fountain, Piazza
Navona (fountain closed for refurbishing) St. Ignazio square for the Jesuit alum photo-op, Pantheon, and then over
to the Vatican. We rested by the Tiber river for a long while enjoying the breeze and lack of crowds of people.
Then the decision: St. Peter's first or Vatican Museum? The kids wanted St. Peter's (and I was so hot and tired, I didn't
care) so we went with the small line and free St. Peter's. The biggest church I've seen probably ever. It was magnificent.
I was surprised that photos are allowed inside (how holy can it really be then, I ask???) so I have a slightly fuzzy
picture of Aidan rubbing the toe of St. Peter's statue. After exiting the church, we made Aidan go up to the guards and ask
how to get to the museum. It was a long walk around the corner to the museum entrance that was now closed. No sistine chapel
on this trip for us. Honestly, I don't think the kids could handle one more church. It will be stretch to get them into
another church at this point.
So intstead, Brian and Aidan wanted to climb the 500+ steps to the dome.
Julia and Edwin were having NO part of that, so I made the sacrifice to go to the cafe and have gelatto and a cappucino
with Colin, Julia and Ed.
Then we had a truly Italian experience: we took the bus. We (*I*) read the bus routes and found a bus to take us
to the section of town where Brian had a recommendation for a restaurant from a co-worker. We found Travestere (one of Roma's
oldest neighborhoods and they consider themselves the only "true" Romans) and then after asking at the gas station where
we might find the restaurant (which we only had half the name of) he directed us down the road to a nearby piazza.
We found the restaurant, and found out they didn't open for 45 minutes. They kindly let us sit down at the outdoor
tables and wait, so we had plently of time to peruse the menus (some of which was in English) The place has been around
since 800. That's 1200 hundred years people. The waiters wore some kind of traditional Italian dress and most were older gentlemen.
They made us laugh when they made fun of the huge tour group of Americans and once we ordered,
the band starting making its rounds to the tables. They sang a "Viva Mama" song to us and then pulled
out a hand puppet and sang some very cute Italian children's song to Edwin. It was a great evening. Much more fun than more
museums for the kids. The long walk back to the metro and finding the car took us by the Circus Maximus - Edwin on piggyback
at this point in the long evening. It's too bad that we had such a long journey home - Roma is beautiful (and cooler!) by
night.
Vatican, St. Peter's, Pieta, Sistine Chapel... that sort of thing. Since we again drove in and parked at the Villa Borghese
(which, as such, we have yet to see other than "Wait! what does that sign say!!! Is the parking this way or that way????")
we needed to find our way over to the Vatican by way of...McDonalds. It was a beautiful McDonalds and the kids
thoroughly enjoyed it. So the walking tour began on the streets of hot and sticky Roma. We hit the Trevi fountain, Piazza
Navona (fountain closed for refurbishing) St. Ignazio square for the Jesuit alum photo-op, Pantheon, and then over
to the Vatican. We rested by the Tiber river for a long while enjoying the breeze and lack of crowds of people.
Then the decision: St. Peter's first or Vatican Museum? The kids wanted St. Peter's (and I was so hot and tired, I didn't
care) so we went with the small line and free St. Peter's. The biggest church I've seen probably ever. It was magnificent.
I was surprised that photos are allowed inside (how holy can it really be then, I ask???) so I have a slightly fuzzy
picture of Aidan rubbing the toe of St. Peter's statue. After exiting the church, we made Aidan go up to the guards and ask
how to get to the museum. It was a long walk around the corner to the museum entrance that was now closed. No sistine chapel
on this trip for us. Honestly, I don't think the kids could handle one more church. It will be stretch to get them into
another church at this point.
So intstead, Brian and Aidan wanted to climb the 500+ steps to the dome.
Julia and Edwin were having NO part of that, so I made the sacrifice to go to the cafe and have gelatto and a cappucino
with Colin, Julia and Ed.
Then we had a truly Italian experience: we took the bus. We (*I*) read the bus routes and found a bus to take us
to the section of town where Brian had a recommendation for a restaurant from a co-worker. We found Travestere (one of Roma's
oldest neighborhoods and they consider themselves the only "true" Romans) and then after asking at the gas station where
we might find the restaurant (which we only had half the name of) he directed us down the road to a nearby piazza.
We found the restaurant, and found out they didn't open for 45 minutes. They kindly let us sit down at the outdoor
tables and wait, so we had plently of time to peruse the menus (some of which was in English) The place has been around
since 800. That's 1200 hundred years people. The waiters wore some kind of traditional Italian dress and most were older gentlemen.
They made us laugh when they made fun of the huge tour group of Americans and once we ordered,
the band starting making its rounds to the tables. They sang a "Viva Mama" song to us and then pulled
out a hand puppet and sang some very cute Italian children's song to Edwin. It was a great evening. Much more fun than more
museums for the kids. The long walk back to the metro and finding the car took us by the Circus Maximus - Edwin on piggyback
at this point in the long evening. It's too bad that we had such a long journey home - Roma is beautiful (and cooler!) by
night.
Robert DeNiro's Waiting
I had a few conversations on Friday. One in English with my new friend Cindy.
One in Engliano with my landlords Mario and Luisa.
Both were interesting, and not only because I got to speak to someone other than the kids and Brian. Cindy and I had made arrangements to check out the opening of a new store here in Rieti. She picked me up and we went over to see what the buzz was all about. It turned out to be a dollar (or in the case over here, the 1 euro) store. It was all the rage, and the parking lot was filled to capacity and then some, given the penchant for parking creatively by the Italians. She and I found a few things as there was a decent produce section to the store.
She filled me in on some Italian curiosities that I have noticed over the weeks. Stores not being open; crazy driving (a bus actually hit her while she was stopped at a red light); the willingness of the Italians to wait in line at the post office for an hour, but less than a nano-second at a red light just turning green. She enjoys living here now (for 10 years) but misses some things of home. Her boys (14 and 16) seem truly Italian to me but also seem reluctant to speak to us in
English. I hear from Mario and Luisa (who are also friends with Cindy and her boys) that they are on the shy side. After shopping, we went and had a cafe at my local internet bar. It was nice to enjoy a coffee *and* a conversation at the same time. Cindy ordered her cafe with ginseng - a drink that Brian gets at work too. Yes, Brian drinks coffee now. Italian coffee is *that* good. Except I don't think I'll swich to the ginseng kind.
Later that day, the kids and I took a walking tour of our town and with the help of the tourist office visitor's map, put names to buildings we have been walking past for weeks now. The very plain on the outside Basilica is 600-700 years old and is stunning on the inside. Included inside is a very large painting of Santa Barbara - patron saint of Rieti. Yeah, she was beheaded and the painting is very graphic. Gotta love church art. In order to get Edwin to come along (willingly)
on the walk, I told him I would pay him 5 cents for every lion he saw. He raked in 1.50 in less than an hour. We stopped counting at that point. He used his earnings to purchase bubble gum.
And very kindly treated all of his siblings to their own pieces.
That evening, after dinner, the caldaia stopped working. This necessitated a call to the landlords.
Of course, once we called them, it (hot water heater) started working again. So I went up the street to their house to catch Mario before he came down to look at it. I had brought some See's candy back with me to give to them, so I figured it was as good a time as any to do so. I spent an hour trying (fairly unsuccessfully) to talk with them when they invited me in to share the chocolate. They are really nice people. I still can't figure out what Mario does.
I believe it's something to do with construction and/or lots of money. They have a beach house, a boat, other rental properties and he drives a Mazeratti. Sadly, I look like I just rolled out of bed everytime I see them - no make-up, messy hair, rumpled clothes and flip flops. Every. time. Heaven knows
what they think about the American lady with all the kids. I definitly don't look Italian.
But they are my main Itaian teachers. I have learned a lot about the language from them -
especially since Luisa is intent on my learning by speaking ONLY Italian. Capito? punctuates most of her sentences.
So I had a Banarama day talking Italian with new friends. I didn't speak it well, but I tried.
Capito?
One in Engliano with my landlords Mario and Luisa.
Both were interesting, and not only because I got to speak to someone other than the kids and Brian. Cindy and I had made arrangements to check out the opening of a new store here in Rieti. She picked me up and we went over to see what the buzz was all about. It turned out to be a dollar (or in the case over here, the 1 euro) store. It was all the rage, and the parking lot was filled to capacity and then some, given the penchant for parking creatively by the Italians. She and I found a few things as there was a decent produce section to the store.
She filled me in on some Italian curiosities that I have noticed over the weeks. Stores not being open; crazy driving (a bus actually hit her while she was stopped at a red light); the willingness of the Italians to wait in line at the post office for an hour, but less than a nano-second at a red light just turning green. She enjoys living here now (for 10 years) but misses some things of home. Her boys (14 and 16) seem truly Italian to me but also seem reluctant to speak to us in
English. I hear from Mario and Luisa (who are also friends with Cindy and her boys) that they are on the shy side. After shopping, we went and had a cafe at my local internet bar. It was nice to enjoy a coffee *and* a conversation at the same time. Cindy ordered her cafe with ginseng - a drink that Brian gets at work too. Yes, Brian drinks coffee now. Italian coffee is *that* good. Except I don't think I'll swich to the ginseng kind.
Later that day, the kids and I took a walking tour of our town and with the help of the tourist office visitor's map, put names to buildings we have been walking past for weeks now. The very plain on the outside Basilica is 600-700 years old and is stunning on the inside. Included inside is a very large painting of Santa Barbara - patron saint of Rieti. Yeah, she was beheaded and the painting is very graphic. Gotta love church art. In order to get Edwin to come along (willingly)
on the walk, I told him I would pay him 5 cents for every lion he saw. He raked in 1.50 in less than an hour. We stopped counting at that point. He used his earnings to purchase bubble gum.
And very kindly treated all of his siblings to their own pieces.
That evening, after dinner, the caldaia stopped working. This necessitated a call to the landlords.
Of course, once we called them, it (hot water heater) started working again. So I went up the street to their house to catch Mario before he came down to look at it. I had brought some See's candy back with me to give to them, so I figured it was as good a time as any to do so. I spent an hour trying (fairly unsuccessfully) to talk with them when they invited me in to share the chocolate. They are really nice people. I still can't figure out what Mario does.
I believe it's something to do with construction and/or lots of money. They have a beach house, a boat, other rental properties and he drives a Mazeratti. Sadly, I look like I just rolled out of bed everytime I see them - no make-up, messy hair, rumpled clothes and flip flops. Every. time. Heaven knows
what they think about the American lady with all the kids. I definitly don't look Italian.
But they are my main Itaian teachers. I have learned a lot about the language from them -
especially since Luisa is intent on my learning by speaking ONLY Italian. Capito? punctuates most of her sentences.
So I had a Banarama day talking Italian with new friends. I didn't speak it well, but I tried.
Capito?
Friday, July 25, 2008
Cell phones and errands
Getting a cell phone in Italy is not exactly as difficult as you think it would be. When I entered the Vodaphone store, I had bad flashbacks of waiting for help in the Verizon store at home. I thought, “Dealing with cell phone companies is difficult enough even when I speak the language…”
But here… Yes, the language barrier can make it tricky. You have to produce a passport when you finally figure out that they *do* have a phone that you can use for only two months. The helpful salesperson may even try and pull some strings and finagle a residency number for you. And the instructions for the phone are in Italian. But, other than all that, you can walk into a store and not a very long while later (in comparison to major US cell phone store waits) you can walk out with a cell phone. That works. That you don’t need to sign a contract for. That you are not tied to for YEARS. It’s more like the prepaid phones back home. Most (if not all) phones work that way. Other than deals on minutes between same carriers (Vodaphone calls made to other Vodaphone phones) it’s all pretty much the same rate-wise. Which translates into less cell-phone usage AS A WHOLE in the community.
Cell phone usage does not seem as hideously pervasive here as compared with home.
My new friend Cindy confirmed this when she explained that people here seem to just have short conversations: state your business, then get off the phone. And with my phone at 50 cents a minute, it’s really only for emergencies and quick calls to Brian. (It’s a bit cheaper to call Italian numbers, but I mostly call Brian’s work phone and it’s an Austrian Vodophone cell phone number hence the 50 cent rate.)
What a pleasure it is to live without being subjected to everyone constantly on the phone. When I went home for the weekend, I noticed that now that the CA hand’s free law is in effect, people seem to be on the phone MORE. Genius idea to make it even EASIER to be on the phone all the time with the requirement of ear/head pieces. My shopping journey to Target last weekend was a frightening example of the new law in effect. EVERYONE was jabbering away on their headsets while their hands were free to do the shopping. UGH. I don’t look forward to that part of home next month. Maybe I’ll make a new blog and call it “Things I overheard today while shopping.” It has potential, no?
When you run out of money on your phone, you can go into most any bar (see the descriptions of the bars in a previous blog) present your phone number and pay to add money to your account. Sounds easy enough? So I sent Aidan to do it for me. After a few tries and a trip home to consult the Italian/English dictionary to find out how to say “Will you please help me” “I don’t know how”, he came back successful.
I send the kids out quite often on their own to do small errands. Mostly, it involves picking up a few items from the market at the bottom of the hill. The day before, Julia and Aidan delivered the dryer sheets to Cindy and then went for pizza by themselves. I feel they are relatively safe here: you can’t spit without hitting a church or convent, and other than the drivers, Italians are super friendly. So I send them off to experience their own Italy. I think it’s important not to have mom speak up for you all the time. Aidan shines at this. Julia likes it, but not on her own. Ed begs to go – but I usually draw the line at him. I make him wait with me, or I take him. Colin doesn’t care at all about it, unless it involves food…or the internet.
But here… Yes, the language barrier can make it tricky. You have to produce a passport when you finally figure out that they *do* have a phone that you can use for only two months. The helpful salesperson may even try and pull some strings and finagle a residency number for you. And the instructions for the phone are in Italian. But, other than all that, you can walk into a store and not a very long while later (in comparison to major US cell phone store waits) you can walk out with a cell phone. That works. That you don’t need to sign a contract for. That you are not tied to for YEARS. It’s more like the prepaid phones back home. Most (if not all) phones work that way. Other than deals on minutes between same carriers (Vodaphone calls made to other Vodaphone phones) it’s all pretty much the same rate-wise. Which translates into less cell-phone usage AS A WHOLE in the community.
Cell phone usage does not seem as hideously pervasive here as compared with home.
My new friend Cindy confirmed this when she explained that people here seem to just have short conversations: state your business, then get off the phone. And with my phone at 50 cents a minute, it’s really only for emergencies and quick calls to Brian. (It’s a bit cheaper to call Italian numbers, but I mostly call Brian’s work phone and it’s an Austrian Vodophone cell phone number hence the 50 cent rate.)
What a pleasure it is to live without being subjected to everyone constantly on the phone. When I went home for the weekend, I noticed that now that the CA hand’s free law is in effect, people seem to be on the phone MORE. Genius idea to make it even EASIER to be on the phone all the time with the requirement of ear/head pieces. My shopping journey to Target last weekend was a frightening example of the new law in effect. EVERYONE was jabbering away on their headsets while their hands were free to do the shopping. UGH. I don’t look forward to that part of home next month. Maybe I’ll make a new blog and call it “Things I overheard today while shopping.” It has potential, no?
When you run out of money on your phone, you can go into most any bar (see the descriptions of the bars in a previous blog) present your phone number and pay to add money to your account. Sounds easy enough? So I sent Aidan to do it for me. After a few tries and a trip home to consult the Italian/English dictionary to find out how to say “Will you please help me” “I don’t know how”, he came back successful.
I send the kids out quite often on their own to do small errands. Mostly, it involves picking up a few items from the market at the bottom of the hill. The day before, Julia and Aidan delivered the dryer sheets to Cindy and then went for pizza by themselves. I feel they are relatively safe here: you can’t spit without hitting a church or convent, and other than the drivers, Italians are super friendly. So I send them off to experience their own Italy. I think it’s important not to have mom speak up for you all the time. Aidan shines at this. Julia likes it, but not on her own. Ed begs to go – but I usually draw the line at him. I make him wait with me, or I take him. Colin doesn’t care at all about it, unless it involves food…or the internet.
Pace e bene
So Brian says to me, “I thought you were going to take the kids on day trips while we were here?”
And I was. I am. But things have been busy with vacationing and all. And doing the laundry, dishes and just life in general. So after we did our trial runs to Roccosinibalda and Monteleone Sabino (both medieval cliff/mountain villages), I felt that I was able to handle the kids and the car on a trip to Assisi. Because it didn’t LOOK too far away on the map.
To get to Assisi from Rieti, you need to go through the town of Terni. Getting to Terni involves nerves of steel and complete concentration to handle the windy, two lane mountain road with occasional cliff like drop offs to the side of you. It especially helps if your daughter isn’t screaming at the top of her lungs when a spider happens to crawl up her leg during the precarious ride.
The projected 1 ½ hour car ride took 2 ½ hours to get there. That projection was given by the car GPS (aka Global Piece of S**t) One thing (out of many) that the Italians have gotten right is the signage in this country. It’s nearly impossible to get lost. Direction signs appear at almost every intersection and if you know where you want to go, it’s easy to find your way. They even label the streets (on the ground) with direction arrows and town names so you know which lane to be in and which way to turn. With cursory looks at the map, we were able to find our way to Assisi with minimal difficulty – difficulty caused mostly by using the GPS, which we quickly abandoned.
Assisi is another rock medieval town (our 3rd or 4th since we’ve been here only on a bigger, more touristy scale). We were able to eat our picnic lunch and meander through the town stopping at a few sights. We found the Basilica Santa Chiara (St. Clare) first. Appropriate for the family from Santa Clarita! We (mostly the kids) struggled with the necessary volume control needed in the sacred place full of touristy pilgrims. We were able to see the remains of St. Clare covered in lifelike wax (“eew!” says Julia, “cool!” says Aidan) in the crypt below the church. Outside the basilica in the courtyard there is a stunning view of the Umbrian landscape. In the distance we saw the blue dome of the church St. Mary of the Angels - the place St. Francis lived and worked and the “cradle of the Franciscan order.” The city of Los Angeles is named after this church.
More meandering down the streets and a little bit of shopping for crosses. I had promised a friend from church that I would pick up a cross for her from Italy. I figured Assisi was as holy a place as any in Italy to do so. Given that St. Francis is one of Italy’s patron saints (but curiously, he not the patron saint of Assisi. That honor goes to San Rufino. Yeah, that’s a head scratcher to me too.) We coincidentally picked a shop to get crosses at the same place Rick Steves points out in his book contains a printing press from WWII used to make documents for escaping Jews. I missed the press, but Aidan saw it and the sign (in Italian) describing what it was used for. I spent my time looking for crosses and conversing in Italian with the 70 year old signora behind the counter. She described to me (all in Italian) why the crosses looked different: they are in the shape of the Hebrew letter Tau, the last letter in the Hebrew alphabet during St. Francis’ life. He would use this letter as his signature. Now it’s used as a cross to remind us of St. Francis and his message of peace. The crosses in their store are made out of olive wood from the local surrounding olive trees. We also talked about the kids and why we were living in Rieti for the summer. It was a lovely conversation ending with her asking how old I am. She guessed 30. God bless her.
More shopping for Ed when we stopped so he could spend his own money to buy a small pinocchio toy wooden puppet. The man asked his name and we answered for Edwin (his lip still being very swollen and making it hard to understand him) but shortened it to “Eddie” as the Italians have a VERY difficult time understanding the name “Edwin.” “Oh, Eddie!” the man says. “Like Ed, Edd and Eddy. The cartoon! My kids love that show!” So Edwin is now Eddie to all Italians, since that can say that. And they all know the name Julia. Only they know it as Giulia.
We stopped by the Temple of Minerva (later turned into a church) in the main square. We went in and took pictures in the only church where cameras are allowed (we think.) Since it used to be a Roman temple, there are still floor slats near the alter that used to drain the blood from the temple sacrifices. Another highlight for Aidan…
Then we made our way down to the Basilica of St. Francis. A few hundred yards away, with the basilica in view, we came upon a shop with a sign in the window which read In ENGLISH:
Please Come In And Taste Now the Best Olive Oil and Balsamic Vinegar.
Later You Will Not Feel Like Walking Up Again. Don’t Miss This Chance.
How can you refuse such a sign? We went in and met a lovely Italian gentleman who lived in Chicago for 27 years and has been back in Italy for almost 20 now. Of course we tasted his olive oil and balsamic vinegar (which made Ed pucker, which made the man smile) and then we purchased some. But better than the oil and vinegar, we got a great conversation and connection with some real Italia through him. He explained that he used to teach Italian – and was in great demand as he is from Umbria and, of course, the Umbrian dialect is the best in Italy. Nothing like Roma (“ugh” he grimaces) Italian. He claims that Roma Italian has too much slang and they slur too many of their letters together. We also talked about our experience here in Italy – the no hot water experience… and he shared that when he was a kid (for many years) his mother would bathe him a big “flower pot.”
Then the walk down to the basilica and a quick tour of the reason people come to Assisi.
After some bribes of soda and ice-cream we found our way back up to the car for the VERY LONG ride back to pick up Brian from work. Thankfully, we had gotten a cell phone for me that week, so we were able to call him and let him know we’d be more than an hour late getting him.
It was almost more than an hour as I decided I had become an Italian driver and tried to (almost, scarily so, unsuccessfully) pass a semi-truck on the 2 lane highway. I timed it so “perfectly” that our car became sandwiched between 2 semi-trucks, each going opposite ways. You know in the movies where it looks like the car won’t make it and at the last minute (God knows how) the car comes out all right despite the laws of physics and gravity? Well, that was us. Honestly, I thought we were done for. I think my heart actually stopped. Maybe that pilgrimage to Assisi paid off. We had both St. Francis and St. Clare on our side I guess. Amen.
So ended our day trips for a while. I have cancelled plans for other Umbrian and Tuscan villages. I decided that there are only so many medieval rock towns that children really want to see. And the ones we saw previously were almost more magical as there was nothing special about them. Just people working and living. Living history in buildings and villages that have been around for hundreds if not thousands of years. Kids (including my own) playing and laughing on the swings in the small town square. And if that isn’t magic, I don’t know what is.
And I was. I am. But things have been busy with vacationing and all. And doing the laundry, dishes and just life in general. So after we did our trial runs to Roccosinibalda and Monteleone Sabino (both medieval cliff/mountain villages), I felt that I was able to handle the kids and the car on a trip to Assisi. Because it didn’t LOOK too far away on the map.
To get to Assisi from Rieti, you need to go through the town of Terni. Getting to Terni involves nerves of steel and complete concentration to handle the windy, two lane mountain road with occasional cliff like drop offs to the side of you. It especially helps if your daughter isn’t screaming at the top of her lungs when a spider happens to crawl up her leg during the precarious ride.
The projected 1 ½ hour car ride took 2 ½ hours to get there. That projection was given by the car GPS (aka Global Piece of S**t) One thing (out of many) that the Italians have gotten right is the signage in this country. It’s nearly impossible to get lost. Direction signs appear at almost every intersection and if you know where you want to go, it’s easy to find your way. They even label the streets (on the ground) with direction arrows and town names so you know which lane to be in and which way to turn. With cursory looks at the map, we were able to find our way to Assisi with minimal difficulty – difficulty caused mostly by using the GPS, which we quickly abandoned.
Assisi is another rock medieval town (our 3rd or 4th since we’ve been here only on a bigger, more touristy scale). We were able to eat our picnic lunch and meander through the town stopping at a few sights. We found the Basilica Santa Chiara (St. Clare) first. Appropriate for the family from Santa Clarita! We (mostly the kids) struggled with the necessary volume control needed in the sacred place full of touristy pilgrims. We were able to see the remains of St. Clare covered in lifelike wax (“eew!” says Julia, “cool!” says Aidan) in the crypt below the church. Outside the basilica in the courtyard there is a stunning view of the Umbrian landscape. In the distance we saw the blue dome of the church St. Mary of the Angels - the place St. Francis lived and worked and the “cradle of the Franciscan order.” The city of Los Angeles is named after this church.
More meandering down the streets and a little bit of shopping for crosses. I had promised a friend from church that I would pick up a cross for her from Italy. I figured Assisi was as holy a place as any in Italy to do so. Given that St. Francis is one of Italy’s patron saints (but curiously, he not the patron saint of Assisi. That honor goes to San Rufino. Yeah, that’s a head scratcher to me too.) We coincidentally picked a shop to get crosses at the same place Rick Steves points out in his book contains a printing press from WWII used to make documents for escaping Jews. I missed the press, but Aidan saw it and the sign (in Italian) describing what it was used for. I spent my time looking for crosses and conversing in Italian with the 70 year old signora behind the counter. She described to me (all in Italian) why the crosses looked different: they are in the shape of the Hebrew letter Tau, the last letter in the Hebrew alphabet during St. Francis’ life. He would use this letter as his signature. Now it’s used as a cross to remind us of St. Francis and his message of peace. The crosses in their store are made out of olive wood from the local surrounding olive trees. We also talked about the kids and why we were living in Rieti for the summer. It was a lovely conversation ending with her asking how old I am. She guessed 30. God bless her.
More shopping for Ed when we stopped so he could spend his own money to buy a small pinocchio toy wooden puppet. The man asked his name and we answered for Edwin (his lip still being very swollen and making it hard to understand him) but shortened it to “Eddie” as the Italians have a VERY difficult time understanding the name “Edwin.” “Oh, Eddie!” the man says. “Like Ed, Edd and Eddy. The cartoon! My kids love that show!” So Edwin is now Eddie to all Italians, since that can say that. And they all know the name Julia. Only they know it as Giulia.
We stopped by the Temple of Minerva (later turned into a church) in the main square. We went in and took pictures in the only church where cameras are allowed (we think.) Since it used to be a Roman temple, there are still floor slats near the alter that used to drain the blood from the temple sacrifices. Another highlight for Aidan…
Then we made our way down to the Basilica of St. Francis. A few hundred yards away, with the basilica in view, we came upon a shop with a sign in the window which read In ENGLISH:
Please Come In And Taste Now the Best Olive Oil and Balsamic Vinegar.
Later You Will Not Feel Like Walking Up Again. Don’t Miss This Chance.
How can you refuse such a sign? We went in and met a lovely Italian gentleman who lived in Chicago for 27 years and has been back in Italy for almost 20 now. Of course we tasted his olive oil and balsamic vinegar (which made Ed pucker, which made the man smile) and then we purchased some. But better than the oil and vinegar, we got a great conversation and connection with some real Italia through him. He explained that he used to teach Italian – and was in great demand as he is from Umbria and, of course, the Umbrian dialect is the best in Italy. Nothing like Roma (“ugh” he grimaces) Italian. He claims that Roma Italian has too much slang and they slur too many of their letters together. We also talked about our experience here in Italy – the no hot water experience… and he shared that when he was a kid (for many years) his mother would bathe him a big “flower pot.”
Then the walk down to the basilica and a quick tour of the reason people come to Assisi.
After some bribes of soda and ice-cream we found our way back up to the car for the VERY LONG ride back to pick up Brian from work. Thankfully, we had gotten a cell phone for me that week, so we were able to call him and let him know we’d be more than an hour late getting him.
It was almost more than an hour as I decided I had become an Italian driver and tried to (almost, scarily so, unsuccessfully) pass a semi-truck on the 2 lane highway. I timed it so “perfectly” that our car became sandwiched between 2 semi-trucks, each going opposite ways. You know in the movies where it looks like the car won’t make it and at the last minute (God knows how) the car comes out all right despite the laws of physics and gravity? Well, that was us. Honestly, I thought we were done for. I think my heart actually stopped. Maybe that pilgrimage to Assisi paid off. We had both St. Francis and St. Clare on our side I guess. Amen.
So ended our day trips for a while. I have cancelled plans for other Umbrian and Tuscan villages. I decided that there are only so many medieval rock towns that children really want to see. And the ones we saw previously were almost more magical as there was nothing special about them. Just people working and living. Living history in buildings and villages that have been around for hundreds if not thousands of years. Kids (including my own) playing and laughing on the swings in the small town square. And if that isn’t magic, I don’t know what is.
Margaritaville
Margarita means something completely different to Edwin than it does to me.
To him, it’s the best pizza ever. Especially when you get it from Orlando at Paldo’s down the street. And he’s right. It is the best pizza ever. Even Colin agrees. If I had to compare *my* margarita to Edwin’s and then had to pick which one I would rather live without, it would be a *very* hard decision. The pizza is that good. But maybe it’s because I have lived without the other one all summer. There’s really only room for one margarita in Italia – and that’s perfectly fine with me and Edwin.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Lion count
Lion Count to date = 268. Edwin knows. He's keeping track. Monteleone Sabino is where this picture was taken. A trip we took in honor of our friends who share that name. The trip took us about 25 minutes away and then up, around, and about the curvy Sabine hills. Through a medievel town up on a cliff. I (just barely) navigated the huge car through the 1000+ year old one way streets and then found ourselves on a one way road through the olive orchards. Supposedly producing the finest olive oil in Italy. When forced to smile for another picture of the hills (because I threaten - and have made good on the threat - that unless they smile, we will just stand there and keep taking picture after picture until they all do) Aidan cracks under his breath, "just grin and lion it." Yep, pretty much.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
