by Maureen | Apr 10, 2010 | Discoveries, Introspection, Journal
The first order of business this morning was to usher the flock* of ants OUT. As soon as the weather warmed, the ants returned. When I first shared my apartment with them last summer and mentioned it to a friend here, he said “It’s summer.” As in, “Ants? And your point is?” (A corollary response:”Welcome to Italy.”)
For the most part, they’re really no bother. They stay in their nice, little two-lane highway from a break in the exterior wall, along the baseboard of my kitchen cabinets all the way to my little garbage bin. They don’t stray much, except for the occasional wanderer up on the kitchen counter.
With a wet tissue, I wiped and crushed the ant-stream, hurrying before word made it down the line and prevented me from getting them. When I got to the garbage bin, I carefully lifted it up, along with its external and internal crowds of ants, and carried it off to the basement garbage-sorting center… which is right underneath my apartment and probably doesn’t help at all!
There’s a new sticker on the garbage room door, noting treatments against rats and cockroaches. Tiny ants are one thing. Rats and cockroaches are quite another.
*They don’t seem very “army”-like.
by Maureen | Apr 6, 2010 | Canals, Cheese, Food!, Introspection, Journal, Meals
The windows are open to the day’s remaining warmth while trout and green beans grill and steam for dinner.
I had awakened this morning to bright sun direct into my bedroom, and the day held promise. After some tasks around the house and a light lunch, I went for a bike ride along the canal, past magnolias, cherry trees and forsythia, and then west into the farm land. I rode to the dairy and bought grana padano and fresh scamorza cheeses. Tomorrow, Wednesday, is fresh ricotta day. That’s worth riding back to the farm for! They will have just finished making it by afternoon and it’s so light and fresh it should be eaten by the spoonful out of its tub.
The rice paddies are green with the first new growth, and I dreamily followed the curled road back through them, returning to the canalside path. The temperature and sunny, blue sky were so delicious, and I felt warm and easy.
by Maureen | Apr 2, 2010 | Discoveries, Featured Articles, Graffiti & Street Art, Graphics, Journal, People, Photo of the Day, Photos
They put the temporary, scaffold-and-tin poster walls back up in my neighborhood just in time to feature advertising for the regional elections. Three inch holes are bored into the sidewalk, with rubber plugs for the off-season. Overnight, they can pop the plugs and throw up the walls clean and ready to be weighted with soon-flaking layers of advertising.
The other day, I was amused that as time, rains and passersby have swept past, the portraits on the political posters have been “enhanced”.
Isn’t this one “Art with a capital A”, all on its own!? It’s my favorite.
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Somehow, “bellezza” – beauty – seems an appropriate headline for this dandy.
And, side-by-side, this man was fortunate to have two renditions of his portrait.
The word showing through the peeled section below – “vincere” – means “to win”. Hmm. Subtle.
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by Maureen | Feb 26, 2010 | Discoveries, Featured Articles, Incredible Locations, Journal, Photos, Sanremo
How many people travel to Italy and include construction shots in their set of “vacation photos”? When I went to see an apartment being remodeled I didn’t realize how fascinating it would be. (Then I thought of my family members and friends that would also be interested and I started shooting photos.)
This apartment, or condo, in a 50-year-old, 6-story building in Sanremo has been completely gutted, peeled of it’s stucco and old-time, old-lady wallpaper. I was struck by how DIFFERENT this construction is than our 2x4s on 16″ centers, skinned with sheetrock. Notice that everything is stone-based, (as are all structures here, except for high-rises). Even the interior walls are some sort of white plaster/concrete block. The old floor has been excavated to about 6-8 inches below final grade so they can lay down the new water and heating system.
In this photo we’re looking into the entry foyer with the front door inside and to the left.
The hot water tubing is green, flexible and multi-layered. The cold water runs through the narrower, white tubing. Both have an interior plastic layer, surrounded by metal, surrounded by plastic. The hot water tubing is encased in fairly soft, green foam insulation. Each route is one continuous run of tubing, except for occasional t-joints. And, yes, you can walk on the tubing after it’s been set out and it won’t crush under normal foot traffic.
Why is there so much green tubing running through this two-bedroom apartment? All the homes here have wall-mounted radiator heaters. No forced-air heat. No baseboard, electric heaters that are typical in much of the U.S.
Note how the floor has been carved out to accommodate several layers of overlapping tubing. In the end, a thick layer of concrete will be floated over the whole floor, encasing all of the tubing and its structure. Ceramic floor tiles will be the finishing surface.
This is the main junction box where all tubing joins. Very neatly done! And notice how the snakes of tubing are anchored with woven strapping to the raw floor.
Here’s the tubing laid out for one of the two bathrooms. The black pipe is the wastewater route. Notice how they’ve simply gouged a groove into the cement block wall to position the tubing that runs upward for the shower.
T-Joints and anchors. And I love that little diamond-shaped rough chunk of cement block spacing the white and green tubes.
Do you know what this is (below)? This is the water supply for the flushing mechanism of the toilet and it, too, will be encased in the wall! My mind imagines potential problems down the road with the system and having to rip apart the floor and wall for repair. Ugh.
by Maureen | Feb 10, 2010 | Journal, Quips
There’s just something about having my bedroom window on the ground level, facing the street. At about 5:30 in the morning the recycling truck pulls up and parks in front of my window. They roll the glass-sorting bins holding a building’s-worth of bottles up to the truck and dump them with an alarming clatter. Imagine the sound.
I know of less jarring alarm clocks.
by Maureen | Jan 17, 2010 | Introspection, Journal
It’s an odd position to be in this limbo of not knowing how long I’ll stay in Italy. My original plan was to be here for a year, but as my Seattle departure date approached last June, I thought, and all my friends concurred, that one year might not be long enough.
I arrived in Milano. I got my apartment “comfortable enough for a year”, and I’ve settled in “just enough”. As it turns out, I’m more than a tourist, but not quite a real resident. I’ve got “short timer’s complex”. Uncomfortably, I am neither here nor there. Most friendships I make will likely be short term. Any household goods I buy will likely be the most minimal and least expensive “because I’m leaving sometime”. The emotional investment is greater than that of a tourist, but is still restricted. This is an odd phenomenon to have put myself in the middle of.
I arrived here June 18; it is now January 17, 7 months later. I know that I have a trip planned to Seattle in late Spring, and then again at the beginning of August. Will the flight in August be simply for a visit, or a return home “for good”?
There are more than 6 months in front of me during which I intend to be living here. Six months is many times more than most people can ever dream of being here in Italy, yet I’m feeling “the crunch” of departure. The other day an almost-panic set in and I started to think of all the things I haven’t seen or done yet in the last 7 months! Huh. So I started making my list of “Must-See, Must-Do”. Weird. I plan to be here AT LEAST for another 6-months-plus, yet my sights are already on departure in August. Ooo. Not good. Granted, that panic might fuel a frenzied string of weekend train trips to all-parts-Italy, plus a few flights to places more distant, but the MINDSET is what I’m concerned about. Focussing on departure means I’m not here, I’m already leaving. That doesn’t create a rootedness… But how does one root when she knows her time is limited?
Starting out with an imagined end-date has contributed to this limbo. But how does one have the boldness to say “I’m moving to Italy”, instead of “I’m moving to Italy for one year.” Whoa!!! Those two are ENTIRELY different in feel! Those two statements are worlds apart. I made the second choice, adding “…for one year”, and that colors my whole experience.
I constantly monitor personal and professional considerations when discerning the best time to return to Seattle – when my few belongings will be packed and shipped, my Milanese apartment will be vacated, and goodbyes will be said. The other day I recognized the push/pull of it. There are things here in Italy that pull me in to stay; there are things here that push me back. And Seattle – and the U.S. – have their own push/pull. All of it swirls and mixes and tumbles and stirs me deeply.
So, not having any solid answers, I’m making plans for Bergamo, Firenze, Savona, San Remo, Torino, Roma, Venezia, Sicilia and as much of Italy as I can lay my eyes on. And I intend to set foot in Germany, Spain, Greece, England, the Netherlands… and places I haven’t even conjured for myself yet. Hmm. Sounds like either a LOT of travel, or more than 6 months… or both.
by Maureen | Jan 11, 2010 | Canals, Discoveries, Featured Articles, Incredible Locations, Journal, People, Photo of the Day, Photos
“I was born in 1945 during the war years and I grew up with family members all around me talking about politics and The War. They didn’t always agree. I think that being surrounded by these discussions as a child is why I love history so much today.”
Today Angelo became my second personal tour guide in two weeks, giving me yet another “3-hour-tour”. I just rode my bike all around the countryside southwest of Milano with my “History Buff on Wheels”.
Angelo pointed out the “Fontanile di Vernate” one of the places where the spring forms a pond.
Oh yes. So lovely decked out in my winter riding gear…
When the sun came in the window this morning for the first time in ages, it woke me up and promised me a 45 degree day and my treasured, usual bike ride. I got the day, but not my usual ride. After pedaling along the Naviglio Pavese for about 20 minutes, I caught up with another rider and remarked how nice it was to be out. We talked for a minute or two as we rode, then I zipped ahead feeling full of energy and wanting to go faster. But he caught up with me. It was Angelo. We rode on, talking all the way. Feeling spontaneous and trusting, I agreed to his suggestion that we ride on further than I normally would have gone.
(I usually keep my rides to an hour and a half or two hours, and haven’t done much exploration alone on the more remote bike paths.)
Sure! Encounter some man on the bike trail and follow him all over the countryside! But of course!
We ended up riding on the narrow roads that wind between rice fields and other farm land. The whole time Angelo was relaying the history of Milan, Italy, Europe, WWII, Mussolini and Hitler… Berlusconi, Bush and Obama. He talked about the hardships during the wartime and how people were sustained by the rice of southwest Milano. (He doesn’t speak a word of English, by the way.)
Angelo’s father’s birthplace is in the distance, where the church steeple is.
He pointed out where both his mother and father were born, and where they are both buried (Zibido San Giacomo). Angelo took me to old, fortified “cascine” – country farmsteads with castle-like main buildings and outbuildings – most refurbished and still in use as modern-day farms carrying on. He pointed out places where Leonardo da Vinci had been, worked, designed and created. Leonardo’s hand and mind are all over this local land.
The entrance to Cascina Femegro.
Within the inner courtyard of Cascina Femegro is this beautiful arched doorway. Straight across from it, 100 yards, are cattle in their stalls. A little girl was riding on her tricycle.
I saw a shrine in Zibido to Padre Pio (who had the “stigmata” markings matching Christ’s); the sarcophagus of San Giacomo, c. II-IX cent. – St. James – in the central courtyard of the town by the same name; and an old cascina, “Ca’ Grande”, Palazzina Pusteria Busca Pozzi.
Shrine in Zibido to Padre Pio
The church at Zibido San Giacomo.
Sarcophagus of San Giacomo.
This is the memorial to those from the town of Zibido San Giacomo that have died in the wars.
An old cascina, “Ca’ Grande”, Palazzina Pusteria Busca Pozzi.
(While riding through Zibido, Angelo’s daughter passed us in her car, going home. He rode to the house a half block away and told her about “this American woman”.)
Angelo explained the “marchite” – marshes – the rich, fertile land perennially wet from “i fontanili”, the underground aquifers and springs of the area. During the winter the ground’s surface may freeze but the ground itself is kept warm by the rising water. The farmed land has been formed into wide, humped rows, allowing the water to flow between the rows; the row peaks begin to grow grass earlier in the Spring than other locales. The milk from cows raised on this grass is said to be superlative.
Le Marchite – The Marsh Farmlands
An old “cascino” back alongside the Naviglio Pavese, at the turnoff to Zibido; I think Angelo said it was “San Lorenzo”. Leonardo spent time here. In the inner courtyard, there are bas-relief busts of various people jutting from the walls.
We figured this one must be Leonardo.
Of course there’s a cat in the courtyard!
Our route today was: South along the Naviglio Pavese to Binasco. West to Vernate and Calvignasco. North up through Rosate, back east to Noviglio, Mairano and Zibido San Giacomo. Angelo rode almost all the way back to Milano with me, to within 10 minutes of my apartment. He wanted to show me the maritime locks along the canal that Leonardo had designed.
Our route – in yellow – through the farmland. My usual route is down the canal to Binasco and straight back. I’m going to feel this unusually long ride tomorrow!
He suggested I make a ride sometime to the Morimondo Abbey founded in 1136, and to the town of Vigevano to see a show of Leonardo’s work.
(I’m on stun. I could not craft these experiences if I tried!)
by Maureen | Jan 2, 2010 | Christmas & New Year's Eve, Discoveries, Introspection, Journal, People, Photos
From my journal entry, New Year’s Day 2010:
I took off walking toward the Duomo at 4:10 today. It’s New Year’s Day. I needed to get out of the house and get my body moving. I decided to zig zag through the “neighborhood” on streets I’ve never seen before, rather than take the sure, known route.
Along the way, an old woman approached me while walking her dog. She had seen me from a distance blowing my nose in my hankie. She rattled something off fast. “Non capisco,” I said finally. “What do you mean you don’t understand!?”, she said in Italian. We ended up comparing handkerchiefs. (Hers had embroidered flowers on white linen. Mine was deep magenta with big, off-white polka dots) I said I had handkerchiefs from my “nonna”.
She stood there in her patterned, fleece pants, just-this-side-of-pajamas and commented on the large size of my coat buttons. “Yes. They’re as big as plates!”, I said. “We could eat off them!” We both laughed, then wished each other a happy New Year and walked on.
It was late afternoon, getting on toward evening. The light was dimming and I was walking where I never had before. But I knew my general direction, took the lesser roads and kept moving. The streets were vacant. Hardly a car. Not a pedestrian. But as I neared the area of the Duomo, a few more people appeared, a few more restaurants and cafés were open (no shops!) and the energy picked up.
This house was in a cozy, little area of narrow streets, just north-east of me. What’s its history?!
I came to another street corner and stopped in my tracks at the sight of the Church of Santa Maria and San Satiro on a site originally established in 879 a.d. Where did that come from!? Just one block off the main drag through town! I had never seen it before.
When I walked in, New Year’s Day evening, a small group of people was being led aloud in saying the rosary. I chimed in in English while I was there.
Heading for Monte Napoleone to see the window displays, I went north and to the east. The shops along that exclusive, narrow street are outside of my reach or comprehension. Actually shopping there is not a thought. My real goal was getting exercise and being out of the house, so I simply strolled and looked and shot a few photos until I got hungry.
by Maureen | Nov 28, 2009 | Introspection, Journal
The other night, lying wide awake at 4:00 a.m., I realized I heard nothing except my own breathing. The relentlessness and menu of sounds around here, makes silence rare and startling. It’s been almost 25 years since I’ve lived in an apartment, and I’ve never lived in such a city environment. This has been an adjustment.
When I first arrived in June, jetlagged and wanting to nap, it was impossible to sleep because of the almost-rhythmic machine moan that I couldn’t identify. It made me climb the walls, exasperated. What in the world?! I thought maybe someone above me had a commercial sewing machine. That sound was a constant intrusion and seemed to run all day, all night. I finally asked the building porter, and he told me it’s the water pump. …Sometime in the course of these last 5 months, I noticed that it’s about 7:00 in the morning when the water pump comes on, (and, yes, it does run ALL day but not at night).
My first floor apartment is directly above the same concrete, dungeon room that houses the water pump. This is where all the building residents sort and dump their garbage and recycling. The glass and metal door has its own, particular sound. Bottles falling on bottles, however, make a sound that is nothing unique but it sure carries into my apartment.
And the couple above me! I hear their lunch preparations and their daytime, Italian soaps on TV. I hear the rush of water through the pipes when they shower, turn on the faucet or do laundry. I hear their heated voices and the creak of what must be a spiral staircase that matches my own. The worst is the sound of her shoes. If she doesn’t have railroad spikes for heels I’d be surprised. Her footfall has an insistent, forceful impact, and when she leaves her apartment and comes pounding down the stairs, she echoes throughout the building. (They do not, however, seem to have any sort of a love life.)
There’s the chatter of people standing just outside my bedroom window having a ceaseless smoke. There are motor scooters and the electric courtyard gates opening to allow cars entrance. There’s the buzz of someone unlocking the main door. Just four buildings away is a berm-elevated train track; surprisingly, the train’s infrequent passage is a mere whir. Now and then, European sirens approach and then fade.
This is the audio backdrop within my Milanese apartment. I’m accustomed to my long-time home in Seattle in very quiet surroundings, where silence is the standard. I’m used to being awakened by birds, not water pumps and spike heels. What’s surprising to me is how I’ve adapted …and that I have! I stopped “hearing” the moaning pump and I can even nap right through it now.
by Maureen | Nov 9, 2009 | Discoveries, Featured Articles, Journal, Photo of the Day, Photos
Always pack along tools when moving to another country!
Point One: This is the land of calcium deposits from the water. After boiling water just once in my stainless steel pan, the bottom and sides are covered with a white calcium film. The sinks and shower build up deposits from any standing water. The cleanser aisle at the grocery store is full of acids for “anticalcare”. Once a week I have to clean out the shower head and remove the rock-salt sized grains of coarse grit.
Point Two: I had just a slow trickle of water in the kitchen and bathroom sinks, and an even slower trickle, of cold water only, at the bidet.
Point Three: My hot water heater is an “on-demand” water heater, (only heating the water when I need it).
It occurred to me that all three points are related! Calcium and grit had likely built up in the faucet aerators and caused the slow trickle of water. The slow trickle wasn’t enough to cue the water heater to kick on, so I only had a dribble of cold water. If I could just get the aerators off and replace them, I’d have water flow AND hot water! But they were so crusted on, that I needed tools.
I shot photos of my crusted faucet aerators and went on Google Images and found photos of pipe wrenches and crescent wrenches. I printed them out and wandered off for the nearest Ferramenta Hardware Store. I bought a cheap pipe wrench for 4 euro and a nicer metric crescent wrench for 10 euro, plus 3 aerators for 1,60 euro each. I couldn’t wait to get home and test my theory!
The first aerator came off and with it a teaspoon of very coarse grit. Wow! No wonder there was only a trickle! I took the others off and flushed all the faucets. Incredible! With freshly flushed lines and new aerators, I had free flowing water for the first time in 5 months, AND hot water at the bidet! (It was such a simple fix!)
In the 5 months that I’ve been here, I have fixed or done maintenance on the following:
- replaced all the faucet aerators
- enlarged the holes on the shower head (they blocked up so regularly that the o-ring blew out once a week)
- tightened all the hinges on the kitchen cabinets (they lift UP and would fall on my head if I left them open)
- remounted a stray kitchen cabinet door whose hinge screws had “disappeared”
- taken the shower enclosure apart and scraped the whole thing down with a single edge razor blade
- oiled a drawer slide on an otherwise unusable bathroom drawer
- defrosted the unusable freezer
These are all little things, but they make a difference in the quality of daily life.
My minor little tool collection now includes:
- magnetic screwdriver with interchangeable bits of different sizes and types (from Seattle)
- single edge razor blades (unheard of here) and a scraper (from Seattle)
- leatherman multi-purpose tool with pliers and you-name-it (from Seattle)
- fine, jeweler’s needle nose pliers (from Seattle)
- steel wool (from Seattle)
- a shiny new crescent wrench
- an inexpensive pipe wrench
- a 3 euro hammer
I can fix and/or adjust a lot of things with this assortment! (Thankfully, I was well-trained at an early age.) By the time I leave this place, it’ll be in tip-top shape.
