Fly to Venice for Cheap!
I just received this notice of cheap tickets to Venice, Milan, Florence (and other European cities) on Lufthansa. Now’s your chance!
Bluebird of Happiness
A wall along the canal features this singing bluebird and it makes me smile every time. Whether intended or not, it feels “sunny” to me and perks me up. My Grandma would have liked it. Her favorite color was blue.
It’s a blue sky Autumn day in Milano today. Mid-60s. Not a cloud and hardly a breeze. The air is fresh. Mmm.
A Lesson from Angel
Many years ago a Mexican man named Angel worked for us in the orchard. He lived up the valley on the land of a neighboring orchardist, in one of the one-room, plywood-sheathed homes available. In polite company, they were called “Pickers’ Cabins”; most of the time they were called “Pickers’ Shacks”.
The cabins weren’t much. Quickly constructed frames with enough exterior for warm weather nights. They weren’t built for winter, although many lived in them year-round. Probably about 8 ft. x 12 ft. each had a cot or two, a simple cookstove and fridge, and a window. I don’t remember whether the cabins had woodstoves. They may have had a little table and a chair or two.
I never saw Angel’s cabin, but was told that it was absolutely spotless, immaculate, uncluttered, organized. No garbage littered the ground outside his cabin. Angel took pride in his home in spite of the meager shelter that it really was.
Here in Milano, I have two big rooms plus a bathroom. I’ve been scrubbing the walls lately; they haven’t been painted in a while and they’re scuffed and dirty. And I’ve been packing up the many things around the place that were provided as “furnishings” but are neither useful to me nor “my style”. This place has its funky aspects, but I’ve been paring it down, and doing small touches that personalize and make this feel like home.
I am by no means likening my apartment here in Milano to the cabins the orchard workers live in. That would be insulting. But I reflect on Angel’s THINKING, and that is his lesson in this. That no matter where one lives, in a home small or large, spare or luxurious, one can always create that home to reflect self-respect, dignity and personal expression.
My apartment here is very different from my home in Seattle, and right now this apartment is just perfect.
Prime View Apartment
Imagine having the apartment seen here and looking out your window every day to the mosaic of the three saints on the Basilica of San Simpliciano. (And San Alessandro at the right is looking directly into the window!) There’s also the gargoyle-laden capital at the top of the column just outside the apartment window. What a view.
Rossignoli
This sign stopped me. I grew up hearing the name “Rossignol” in connection with skiis. Here was a cool old bike shop and it had cool old-style bikes inside, plus some swanky, new ones. But no skiis.
I hope they never paint that sign.
Let There Be Light
Knowing absolutely that I need LIGHT coming into my eyes and surrounding me, especially where I’m working, I’ve been adjusting my apartment ever since I got here.
My first attempt was to abandon the loft with its desk, shelves and somber lighting. In July I set up a “morning desk” and an “evening desk”. As it turns out I just used the evening desk because it’s bigger, more comfortable and adjacent to the broadband cable. (Skype doesn’t do as well with a wireless system.) Positioning each table near the windows was a great improvement, and the morning desk is fine for small sorting projects.
But as summer waned and the light stopped flooding in on afternoons, I found myself still a bit sluggish and lacking energy. There’s only so much that Italian caffé can accomplish. Bracing myself for Autumn and Winter, and deciding NOT to move to the brighter apartment nearby, I knew I needed to invest a tad in some lighting, and a few other personalizing touches.
Let there be light! Yes! I trekked to Ikea (it was, indeed, a TREK!) and bought 3 floorlamps. At midnight it can be like broad daylight in here! SUCH a difference to be surrounded by light. I’ve already noticed a difference in my energy, outlook and motivation. I was not about to spend all winter feeling like I was in a dark, little hole. This was a simple and inexpensive solution and makes the place cozy-homey. I’m thrilled.
I also realized that I MUST see OUT the window. I was feeling so enclosed! Some sheer white, textured fabric draped over a spring-loaded shower curtain rod makes a perfect half-height, flat panel. I can see the plants on the neighbor’s balcony across the courtyard path and can even see a dab of blue sky. The light comes in, but people walking by or standing in the courtyard can’t look in. (I’m on the first floor.) And it’s instantly removeable whenever I want to get out to my little balcony.
The main room now looks bright, inviting and conducive to work.
And this is what it looked like when I first moved in, the only light coming from the band of fluorescents over the kitchen.
As part of the settling in, I’m paring down. I’ve gone through the place and removed everything superfluous that came with the apartment that I don’t like or don’t want to use: TV, stereo, cabinets, chairs, mattress, kitchen implements, tchotchkes. They all went up into the loft which is being encircled with a lively black-and-white patterned fabric. I want this place to be mine. If I don’t like it, I don’t want to look at it or devote space to it.
Ahh. I’m ready for winter now.
Out for a Grocery Stroll
After a little afternoon nap, I booted myself out the door for a stroll. It was just after 3:00, the quiet time of the day in the city. A mostly gray sky with a little chill in the air. Nice to head out and wander.
Just two blocks from home, I saw my Fashion Design instructor, Lee, from a year and a half ago. I hadn’t seen her since this summer session and it was nice to chat a bit. As it turns out, she recently moved to just around the corner for me, so we may meet for coffee sometime.
I needed a few groceries, but not much. The Saturday market was likely over, but I headed in that direction anyway, and am glad that I did. There was a stillness, an ease that is certainly not there in the height of the market selling. Many vendors had already left, but the others were slowly putting away their vegetables and fruits, their cheeses, meats and household sundries. They were still just as happy to make one last sale and end the day with a few extra euro in their pockets.
The fennel looked good, and I wanted to take one home with me. No. The minimum was three. “Oh, really? OK fine. Give me three. I’ll take some cherry tomatoes, too.” And of course, he THREW them into a bag. At another stall, the green beans looked fabulous and I wanted one of the two baskets full. He heaped a “fruta e verdura” paper bag with the beans from BOTH baskets, more than I could eat in a month. Fine. I love beans. I’ll eat them every day this week. (I guess they just didn’t want to pack up anything they could possibly send down the road.)
The man that had sold me bresaola the last time I went to this market was there again. I asked for “cento grammi“, 100 grams which he sliced right then, plus some brie. Then I saw a curious, smoked something-or-other, and asked for two. It’s cheese wrapped around prosciutto and olives, with some sort of creamy sauce inside, then smoked. (Front edge of the plate in the photo.)
The flower stall still had a few options, so I bought four colors of fragrant freesia to bring home.
I left the street market and went to the main street. As I approached the grocery store, there was a vendor out front roasting chestnuts. Yes, please! I added a big handful of those to my shopping bag. A few feet away, I spotted Justin, the woman from Kenya that works behind the meat counter at the grocery. She and I have chatted a number of times, and is the biggest reason for me to shop there. Her pleasant manner and conversation make me smile. Inside, I bought a package of cheese crackers that I had discovered when I first arrived four months ago, and some chicken thighs (for which I had big plans).
Next came the Bakery. There was a pizza square with mushrooms, prosciutto, artichoke hearts, sauce and cheese that clamored to come home with me. Plus, I bought a little bun with chunks of green olives. Basta! Plenty! That was enough for one shopping spree.
Along the way home, an elderly woman in a purple jacket stopped me to ask where I had bought the freesia. Unfortunately for her, the market was long over, but we chatted about freesia and tulips and springtime and I was pleased that we could have such a conversation.
And those chicken thighs? I cooked them just like Mom used to when we were kids (60s Americana): dredged in flour with salt and pepper. Browned in (olive) oil, then drowned in water and left to simmer for almost two hours ’til they were falling-off-the-bones tender. The chicken produced the classic gravy I was looking for and was ladled over (brown) rice, served with a few of those many green beans.
It was a simple afternoon, really. Just buying a few groceries. But the fact that I see familiar faces while out-and-about-town, and can just chat with people means the world to me. These are first steps toward being IN this community even if only in a small way.
Damn Spam
Sitting in my spam trash are 15,201 spam “comments” that have come in since September 5! (Yes. That’s fifteen thousand+.) I’ve managed to create enough filters that I haven’t had to purge each of them individually, but I’ve still had to spend much-too-much time each day clearing out the crap. In fact, I think I’ve spent more time deleting spam than anyone has spent posting comments.
SO! I changed some settings and you are now required to log in before posting a comment. (I think this is true only of your first time posting under these new settings.) This of course posts your comment publicly on my site. Or, simple enough, you could just send me a private e-mail.
I could probably dig deeper into spam-blocking methods, but my main energies are not going into blog management. I’d rather be away from this computer when possible, exploring my Milanese world.
Extra Virgin
At almost 4 months’ time here (with a few side trips away) I have now gone through a one liter bottle of Extra Virgin Olive Oil and I just bought my second bottle. And by the way, even though I’ve eaten more meat (bresaola and prosciutto! Mmm) and cheese in the last 4 months than I have in decades, my cholesterol has dropped 30 points.
Ambitious Cheese and Such
What a street market! I rose up out of the subway this evening at 6:00 and immediately stepped into a one block section of tented stalls hosting vendors from the many regions of Italy. Wow. Cheeses, meats, spices, pastries, dried fruit. As they say “over the top”!
One stall in particular had what I can only call “ambitious cheese”. Ambitious in the making and in the eating. Cheeses matured in juniper, walnut leaves, “must of nebbiolo grapes”. Leaves, twigs and what looked like good rich earth were still adhering. You want a quarter cheese round? The woman will cut through the cheese wheel and send some of that must home with you. (I can’t help but think that such things would never be found in the U.S. They would be accompanied by a waiver and binding agreement not to sue. I was again reminded that, as Americans, we are so removed from our food sources! …Don’t get me started on THAT soapbox.)
No. I didn’t try any. Mostly because the woman was busy with other customers, and her sample dishes were empty. And if I tried some, how could I walk away without buying? (And look at the prices! Some of those are about $23 per pound. But they must be sublime. I’ll have to try-and-buy next time.)
I did buy a wedge of cheese at another stall. I put my hands VERY close together and indicated that I wanted just a bit of the cheese with green olives and spicy red peppers. She came over from playing with her baby son, picked up the knife, cut a wedge and charged me 9 euro for that bit. (About $13.50 for that small wedge!)
The meats were stacked high. Spices and fruits in heaping mounds. The Sicilian cookies and pastries tempted me. The young Sicilian man packaged some various cookies for an elderly couple… maybe a dozen and a half, 2 inch cookies. “25”, he said. “What?” said the old man. “25.” It was 25 euro for that little bag of little cookies. The couple scoffed, left the bag and walked away. Cautious, I bought two small macaroons and one pistachio cookie: 2,50 euro.
Fish on a Sunny Day
Wow. An absolutely gorgeous day in Milano. Is this what Fall is like in Italy?! Sunny after some 2:00 a.m., drenching downpours recently. Fresh air, yet nicely warm. No humidity to be bothered with. It was a day that screamed for a bike ride along the canal.
Fish are always present in the Naviglio Pavese Canal, and I’ve been told they’re fussy about biting. I see them when glancing over as I ride along. Sometime in the last week or so they’ve lowered the water level down to just a couple of feet. Perhaps this has affected the fish, and perhaps it’s just their biology (spawning time?) but now they are clustered in clouds! AND I saw three of four that were brilliant gold or gold and black. Koi let loose? Whatever the reason, I had to stop and simply watch them.
I still don’t know what kind of fish they are. One day I stopped to chat with an elder fisherman and I should have had pen and paper with me to write down what he told me. “Trota” was one fish that was easy to remember. Trout! But I see a few others with different markings and body shapes, which keep up my curiosity.
I Bought a Branzino!
Nope. It’s not a Vespa-type scooter or a little car. It’s a little fish.
A couple of months ago, while at the Saturday market, I was overwhelmed by the seafood choices I had no familiarity with. No halibut, salmon or rock cod here. There was fish I knew nothing about except for a couple I had ordered from menus: orata and branzino. “But what do I do with it?” Besides. I had neither a filet knife nor knife sharpener, so I was ill-prepared.
Having just returned from a visit to Seattle this week, (filet knife and EZE-Lap sharpener in hand), hankerin’ for fish*, and doing a “fast stroll” near the Naviglio Grande (the big canal) I found a street-side fish market in my path. “Uno branzino”, I said to the guy. He wrapped it up. I paid 4 Euro, 6 bucks. I threw it in my bag and went on to shop for fabric. (Fabric and fish in the same bag? Hmm.)
(*By the way, can one ” have a hankerin’ ” in Italy. I’m not sure the translation works.)
Saturday evening. Canal-side. The place was lively with people strolling at a slow pace. Here I was, trying to keep my usual 4.5 mile-per-hour Indian Trail pace. (Fat chance, Maureen. Take it easy! Relax for once.) Maybe that’s something Italy will teach me: how to stroll properly, without being “on a mission”.
At 7:00, I stepped into the little fabric store NOT like those in the U.S.! Dark, jammed floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall, and much of it had probably been there a long time. I was looking for, and found, fabric for a baby quilt. (Just try buying quilting supplies in Italian!) I left moments before they closed at 7:30.
It was the first time in 4 months I had gone out in public wearing blue jeans (!) and tennis shoes (not quite blinding white). I had been cleaning all day and felt like being comfy. At 8:00 in the evening, sleeveless, it was muggy enough that I was working up a sticky sweat. (All the more reason to slow down.) Most everyone else was either paired up or on-the-make, so blue jeans and tennis shoes never entered their minds, I’m sure!
Meanwhile, I had a scantily-wrapped branzino in my bag with baby quilt fabric, so I figured I’d better hustle to the grocery store, buy whatever else I needed, and get home and cook!
I hadn’t noticed at the fish stall that the fish had not been gutted. No problem. I’ve gutted many a fish in my day. And I found out that branzino, (which is actually a European Seabass), has a pretty wicked, spiny dorsal fin! A pair of scissors made short work of those half dozen thorns.
Based on it’s size, roughly 11″ stem-to-stern, I figured I could cook a branzino much like a nice-sized rainbow trout. Flour, salt, pepper, mixed herbs…and since I had just been in Seattle, I threw in some of Chef Tom Douglas’ Salmon Rub (Brown Sugar, Paprika and thyme). A little extra virgin in my new grill pan, crank up the heat and throw on the fish. Veggies searing in the pan next door promised a lovely dinner.
(By the way, note the pan in the upper left. I’ve boiled water for coffee twice and that’s the amount of white, calcium build-up that occurs! I have to scrub the pan hard every day.)
Ahh. The smell of fish cooking with oil. One would think it’s a good time to open the windows, especially on a muggy night! No way! I wouldn’t sleep all night; the mosquitos would eat me alive. I opted for the fishy smell and a good night’s sleep.
“Mr. Branzino” cooked for about 20 minutes or so. Perfection. A glass of Grillo from Sicilia, a couple slices of cornmeal bread and at 9:30 I was ready to eat. Note that the branzino is served up right alongside my Mac, my updated to-do list, the utility bill from the landlady, a job ticket, trip receipts and hardware warranty info.
Delicately flavored. White. Moist. Cooked perfectly. Mmm. In trout fashion, I lifted the tail and peeled the spine and upper half away from the lower. I didn’t eat the skin because trying to scale the fish earlier had been making more of a mess than necessary, so I simply lifted the fish flakes away from the skin and gobbled them. Then I flipped the other half, easily lifted the skeleton and enjoyed the rest of the fish. What a delicious meal!
FROM WIKIPEDIA:
The European seabass, Dicentrarchus labrax, also known as Morone labrax, is a primarily ocean-going fish that sometimes enters brackish and fresh water. It is also known as the sea dace. As a food fish, it is often marketed as mediterranean seabass, bronzini or branzini(“branzino” is the name of the fish in Northern Italy; in other parts of the country it is called “spigola” or “ragno”). In Spain, it is called “lubina”. It has silver sides and a white belly. Juvenile fish maintain black spots on the back and sides, a feature that can create confusion with Dicentrarchus punctatus. This fish’s operculum is serrated and spined. It can grow to a total length of over 1 m (3.3 ft) and 15 kg of weight.
Its habitats include estuaries, lagoons, coastal waters and rivers. It is found in the waters in and around Europe, including the eastern Atlantic Ocean (from Norway to Senegal), the Mediterranean Sea and the Black Sea.
It is mostly a night hunter, feeding on small fish, polychaetes, cephalopods and crustaceans.
The fish has come under increasing pressure from commercial fishing and has recently become the focus in the United Kingdom of a conservation effort by recreational anglers. In Italy the seabass is subject of intensive breeding in salt waters.
Is She Italian?!
Excuse me, but, I’ve NEVER seen head-to-toe plaid on an Italian woman before. I don’t think I’ve ever seen PLAID (but you KNOW I’m going to start keeping track!) Granted, I’ve only been here 4 months, and it’s been summer time… Maybe, now that the weather is cooling, women country-wide will pull their plaid wool suits out of storage. I’ll see them everywhere. What a photo op.
And those socks! Cool combo.
That’s her husband coming toward her. I had been behind them a block earlier and couldn’t get my camera out fast enough. We shared the same route for a block! I got a glimpse of her face. Did she “look Italian”? Let me tell you, all Italian women look no more the same than all American women. (Same with the men.) Let’s squelch that myth right now!
Gondole e Gondolieri
It seems that gondolas (gondole) are the worldwide symbol of Venice. The tourists love the show of the sleek boats and their often-stripe-shirted boatsmen (gondolieri). By evening time, wandering around Venice, accordion music and deep-throated song floats up from the canals, answering the dreams of those that have paid for rides, and adding to the Venice Experience of those out for evening strolls.
I Love Venice
Journal Entry: 12 September 2009
(I know… It’s been a few weeks since I traveled there, but it’s been a busy time…)
“This place SO stimulates my senses. It absolutely delights my eyes at every turn. Every crop. Every surface. Every combination of signage and stone and wrought iron. I could wander this place indefinitely.
“I decided spontaneously just a couple days ago to come to Venice as a way to celebrate my birthday. (Why spend another weekend in my apartment in Milan? This is why I’m here. Venice is just 2.5 hours away!)
“When I arrived at the Santa Lucia train station from Milano here in Venezia, I felt such ease and familiarity. I was only here 2 nights last year, but wandered enough that I have some sense of the place. I saw many of the locations and details that I had photographed and I felt such connection! I had been looking at those photos intensely for a year and knew the places intimately. It’s surprising the sense of belonging I feel.
“This is such a place of visionary pilgrimage. So far, one of my favorite places in the world. It is lush and stimulating. Venice gives me such pure delight!”
Here are a few photos from around town…
Look at this iron lamp! And in the dragon’s mouth hang three umbrellas with blown glass inserts. THAT ironwork takes the prize!
Milano Cookies & Turkey Dogs
Heading back home to Milan, sitting at Sea-Tac awaiting the Seattle-London-Milan flights after a VERY crazy-busy, chuck-full two weeks here in Seattle. I had thought that some time here would be a break from the intensity of Milan. Ha! What was I thinking?! I need to go back to Italy to ease off a bit. First thing on the list: a bike ride!
On the flight coming out here, from Newark to Seattle, they served this snack, which seemed the perfect and laughable bridge between Italy and the U.S.: Milano Cookies and a Turkey Dog! So funny that I had to shoot it.
There was also an absolutely gorgeous skyscape out my window as we approached the west coast, no doubt enhanced by the fires in Oregon and California.
