by Maureen | Aug 2, 2010 | Featured Articles, Food!, Incredible Locations, Introspection, Journal, Meals, People, Photo of the Day, Quips, Seattle
Sunday Morning. August 1.
(I arrived home yesterday in late afternoon.)
Home in the summer chill of Seattle with a 60 degree morning. I slept well with the window open to fresh, cool air. Absolute silence filled the night until the crows started talking as day dawned. No neighbor above me in spike, high heels. No garbage pickup or street cleaning outside my window.
I’m tired, certainly, but calm and relaxed and a bit in a fog. I don’t want to go into a flurry in unpacking and launch into my old routine, but rather be thoughtful and deliberate as I create my renewed life here. I have the gift of a “clean slate with a foundation”. How rare for any of us to have that (without its arising from trauma). I have family, friends, clients, continued work and a home; together they give me a solid base. But the house is nearly empty and I can start from scratch in placing things. I can choose freshly what commitments I make and activities I involve myself in.
– – –
The refrigerator was empty this morning except for a frozen tamale. I heated it up and it sufficed as enough breakfast to take the edge off for a few hours. Late morning, I walked up into Burien (I still don’t own a car) and ate fish tacos for a Sunday brunch. The tastes of spicy guacamole and pico de gallo were welcome changes.
After my morning meal, I went north with my brother and friends to Dad and Arlene’s house. We had a relaxed chat looking out to the bay, then sat for an early dinner. If ever there were a classic American meal concept, perhaps it’s the casserole. Today, our dish was chicken breasts with mushrooms, swiss cheese and a few other goodies that formed a tasty “goop” that begged for a spoon with which to harvest every bit of sauce. Our consciences were appeased by green beans with butter and cut fruit salad (called “Macedonia” in Italian.)
THEN came dessert: Freshly baked rhubarb pie with a crisco crust! What a homecoming! What a welcome! Casserole and pie. (What could be more American?)
by Maureen | Jul 29, 2010 | Introspection, Journal, Quips
It’s Thursday afternoon. On Saturday morning a car and driver will meet me here at my apartment and drive me, with whatever I’m carrying home to Seattle, to Milano Malpensa Airport. Though I’m not much of a shopper, I still have too much stuff to manage the taxi-train-plane, with all the transfers, on my own. My flight leaves at noon.
Less than two days remain for me in Milano… for now. I’ve eased the panicked voice of “I didn’t go here! I didn’t see this! I didn’t taste that!” And I’ve come to a calm reconciling of all that I didn’t experience in these near-14 months, and am beyond grateful for all that I DID.
…And I’m already talking with friends here about my return sometime next year for a month or two. (Why not?) I’ve had offers of places to stay. I want to see friends here in the north. Travel and do design research in the south. And plan a bike-tour for a week or two in central Italy. (Why not?)
So in these days, as I’m seeing my friends, I give them an Italian kiss on both cheeks and an American hug. (They don’t do that much here.) We’re not saying “goodbye”, but rather “see you later”, or “until the next time”.
“Alla prossima.”
And sometimes I blink away watery eyes.
– – –
(I DID it! I packed up and moved to Italy for over a year!
And I have faces in my mind’s eye to prove it.
It wasn’t always easy, but it was oh-so-worth it!)
by Maureen | Jul 7, 2010 | Featured Articles, Food!, Franciacorta, Incredible Locations, Journal, Meals, People, Photos
The grape varieties and resulting wines here in Italy are numerous and quite different than in the U.S. What better way, then, to learn about the wine I’m drinking than to take a wine-tasting class. After attending intensive language classes last winter, I figured I was ready to enroll in the preliminary class series offered by the Organizzazione Nazionale Assaggiatori di Vino (ONAV) – the National Organization of Wine Tasters.
Some of my Seattle friends have joked that the class was a bunch of people sitting around drinking wine. “Hey! How do you like this wine?” “It’s great. Pass me the bottle!”
No. It was a series of 18 lessons, 2 per week, from 9:00 in the evening ’til 11:00 or so. It was held across town and I usually got home on the subway after midnight. (I started the class in February.) The course content was very technical, including discussions of chemistry, cultivation and fermentation processes, wine types and their characteristics, defects and regulations.
And all of this was in Italian. Each session was taught by a person with a different expertise… and a different manner of speaking. On good nights I understood 80% of what was said. (At least I think so.) There were a few nights when I may have understood only 10 -20%. Most lessons were complete with powerpoint presentations, charts and graphs. What I couldn’t understand by listening I could understand by reading. I felt I was learning more than I knew before, even though I didn’t get it all.
Most evenings, we had 4 wines to taste, being given a small sampling of each but not even taking the first sip until about 10:30. We used a complex table to judge each wine for its visual, olfactory and in-the-mouth characteristics, tallying a score for each wine on a 100-point scale. We judged on clarity, tone, intensity, frankness, fineness, harmony, body, persistence and overall ranking.
Taking the class did change my understanding of and appreciation for wine. And it probably spoiled me for drinking “cheap wine”, though here in Italy I can get a pretty nice, very drinkable wine for 4 or 5 euro. ($5 or $6)
When the class was ending in late April, we were told to prepare for the final exam. Yes. A final exam! I considered not taking the test; after all, I had attended the course simply for my own interest, not to become an official sommelier.
Having convinced myself to take the exam, I then considered taking the test in English, an option offered. But no. I took the 10-question short essay test in Italian. I had to understand the question; know the answer and know how to say and write it in Italian! We then had 5 wines to taste and judge; our judgments of the wine were expected to fall within a few points of the ONAV judgments. (ONAV was serious! They had several versions of the test. We had to sit with an empty chair between us. And we had to remain silent.)
I passed! It was a little, personal triumph.
Last Sunday we had our diploma ceremony at the beautiful Ferghettina vineyard high on a hill in the Franciacorta region east of Milan. Our class was joined by classes from other locations of the Lombardia region of Italy for one grand celebration.
Not having a car, I could not have attended without the kindness of my classmate, Giuseppe, letting me ride along with him and Alessandro. Once there, we met up with Federica and Valentina from our class.
Rocco and Gianni were also there, as were other classmates.
Our names were called out individually and we went to the front to receive our diplomas.
Afterwards, we were treated to Ferghettina Brut, along with typical meats, cheeses and breads. On that sweltering hot day, a tour of the winery’s cool, underground “cantina” was a refreshing break, and fascinating.
.
.
.
Ahh, nice and cool standing next to the 2008 Franciacorta Brut.
After celebrating with our other ONAV classmates, the 5 of us headed off in two cars to a place that Federica had heard about. It was a laughable, roundabout tour through the countryside of Brescia trying to find the agriturismo, Cá del Lupo. We enjoyed a light lunch on the terrace: Alessandro, Valentina, Giuseppe and Federica.
Alessandro.
Valentina.
Giuseppe.
Federica.
It took much hemming-and-hawing to decide whether to go walk along the shore of Lago d’Iseo. We consulted the GPS to figure out how to get there and how long it would take.
Lago d’Iseo is between Lago di Como and Lago di Garda, nestled in the ring of mountains to the north.
Alessandro and I goofed off at the cartoon characters on the lawn.
I spent my very hot Fourth of July at a winery, a farm and a lake, with 4 dear people I hardly knew. We had a wonderful time and laughed a lot. One of more of them may end up on my doorstep in Seattle some day!
by Maureen | Jul 3, 2010 | Discoveries, Incredible Locations, Journal, Quips, Sanremo
I just took my shoes off as it approaches midnight and I have turgid, little, sausage toes! It’s still 81 degrees out on these 90+ degree days and I’m so grateful for the invention of air conditioning. (I know that everyone in Seattle these days would love to have the opportunity to have turgid sausage toes from heat! But remember last summer?!)
I just returned from San Remo on the Italian Riviera (I know, that sounds so high-fallutin’) and it was hot and humid there, too. For being peak tourist town, the streets were surprisingly empty. Actually, not surprising at all. The shoreline is wall-to-wall beach umbrellas with bodies sprawled out underneath them. Come evening, the town will be hopping with all those bodies seeking food and entertainment.
In the meantime, now back in Milano, I’ll get some sleep and hope that my feet fit into my shoes by morning.
by Maureen | Jul 1, 2010 | Featured Articles, Introspection, Journal, Quips
More often than not, when I’m talking to Italians and they tell me they want to travel to the U.S., they all say the same thing: they want to go to New York, Miami… and Niagara Falls. (Huh? Niagara Falls?) They tell me that TV and movies have influenced them; they’ve seen more mention of New York and Miami than any other place.
Yesterday, out for a late night dinner with an Italian friend, at a restaurant with paper tablecloths, I started sketching a map of the U.S. and talking about the regional differences across the country. In trying to communicate the tremendous variation in geography and culture we covered a LOT of topics! (Of course, all from my own point of view…)
Here’s a list of some of the things we talked about. How many can you find noted in the sketch below?
- Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Chicago, New York
- Grand Canyon, Cascade Mountains, Rocky Mountains, Great Lakes, Gulf Coast Marshes
- Pacific Northwest, West Coast, Southwest, South, Midwest, New England,
East Coast, Florida, border with Canada
- BP Oil spill and threatening Hurricane Alex
- Conservative, liberal, up-tight, traditional, racist
- Rednecks, Ku Klux Klan, cross-burning
- Cities, population centers, farm country, apples, pears, grapes
- The Adobe homes of the Southwest
- Where I went to school in California and Ohio
- My long, one day drive from San Jose to Seattle
- The “boot” of Italy and the cultural divide between north and south
The cultural divide between northern and southern California
by Maureen | Jun 18, 2010 | Featured Articles, Graphics, Introspection, Journal, People, Photos
One year ago today my plane landed at Milano Malpensa Aeroporto. I caught the train into the center of town, to the Cadorna Station. It was a hot day. I started sweating quickly. My Irish/German skin was bone white in contrast to all those on the street and I laughed. I was whisked through the city here to my apartment where the French doors were open to afternoon light and air pouring through the sheer curtains.
It’s been a YEAR!
(NOTE: “Tricolore” – meaning “three colors” – is the nickname given to the flag of Italy. The colors are listed “green, white and red” (never “red, white and green”. Currently, many Italian flags are flying or hung from windows and balconies in support of the Italian soccer team at the 2010 FIFA World Cup in South Africa.)
Recent journal snippets:
25 Maggio – May 25 – Milano
“The morning sounds have changed to those of summer. Our days are in the low 80s and I sleep with windows open (until the mosquitoes discover me and even the nights require air conditioning).
The birdsong is loud and constant and a joy to me, as it is in Seattle. The other night/morning, I heard the first bird song at 4:14 a.m (I had stayed up late reading). I hear courtyard neighbors chatting. The drone of T.V. Distant traffic and the passing train. I hear the breeze in patio foliage and sounds throughout the building as people go about their morning. Cars come and go through the courtyard gate. All these sounds move through the ever-heavier, ever-warmer air as summer blooms.
Returning to Milano last week has begun a new stage in my time here. It points out my ease and familiarity with this place and its people. Spontaneous conversations come more readily. What a time to leave now that I’m having so much fun! It’s no longer a daily struggle. (It really isn’t much of a struggle at all any more.)
I’m moving in on the 1-year mark and what a year! What an absolutely amazing time this has been (and still is). I’ve really settled into a rhythm. My Italian has advanced enough that I can discuss more complicated ideas, not just my rudimentary daily needs. This allows meetings and connections withheld from me otherwise. Language lets me in. Without language, one is on the outside.
All of this and now I’m leaving? Now that it’s become “easy”, I’m going?!
Yes.
My Italian Year. Complete with the cycle of seasons, a long, dark winter and blazing summer. Sights to inspire and make my head swim. Food and wine so good that I’m bringing 5 pounds of Italy home around my waist. I have met hundreds of people in hundreds of ways and those meetings are the highlights.”
17 Giugno – June 17 – Milano
“A year ago today I got on a plane after having packed up half my life and given the other half away. My coming felt providential. I was compelled without knowing why. There have been times more difficult than I had anticipated, and other times that will always make my eyes sparkle. I truly believe this has been one of the best things I’ve done in and for my life. How wondrous!
And now, just a little over a month before my departure, I find myself as wide-eyed and seeing about Milano as I was about Seattle before I left. My senses are keen. I’m open to all of it with an intensity. I want to take it all in to carry back with me.
I feel a sadness about leaving. Now I know people. Now my heart is tied. I went out for pizza last night with Ewa, at the same restaurant where we met last July, a month after my arrival: Il Kaimon, (in the artsy Brera district. A street musician played classical music on a violin throughout dinner). Last year I was ecstatic to meet her and Piotr. They were my first spontaneous, independent friends here. Ewa and Piotr have remained friends all this time and their friendship has been a blessing. Ewa has fed me countless meals at their home. We’ve shared language, conversation and confidences. As my language grew, so did the depth of our talks. (She has invited me to stay with her when I return to Milano to visit.)
After our dinner, Ewa and I walked back to her apartment arm-in-arm, in Italian tradition, chatting all the way.”
Ewa was shy about my having the camera out.
– – –
The Tricolore shows up in many ways. Yes, I really did see these two t-shirts hanging out to dry over the canal today as I was riding.
by Maureen | Jun 13, 2010 | Apartment, Church, Food!, Journal, Meals, People, Photos, Shopping & Markets
Sally flew over from Seattle a week ago to share the sights of Milano, the wonderful food treats available and the simple efficiency of my apartment. She came off the plane and out of customs beaming.
We took the Malpensa Express train from the airport into town, and got out at the Cadorna station. We walked out in front so she could see the “Needle, Thread and Knot” sculpture by Claes Oldenburg and Coosje van Bruggen. The knot is across the street, as if the needle had taken a stitch under the roadway.
Our first breakfast was a caprese salad with mozzarella from the farm, lovely ripe tomatos, just-picked basil, served on a bed of songino – watercress – and some freshly sliced proscuitto. Not a bad welcome to Milano!
On Sally’s first day in Milano, we walked over to the Saturday street market where the vendors were selling fruit, vegetables, cheese, meat, fish, clothes and a few household goods. We stocked our kitchen with fresh basil, red pepper, asparagus, spicy salame with fennel, fresh eggs, cherry tomatoes, blood oranges, pickled onions, both “sweet” and spicy olives, burratina cheese, smoked mozzarella, dried figs from Calabria, prosciutto and bresaola.
With hot weather, we opened the french doors and sat on my “shelf”, as Sally called it. Not quite big enough to be called a deck, or veranda, or lanai, it held our two chairs while we put our feet up on the railing. We chatted in the sun and greeted neighbors as they walked past to go dump their garbage in the room below us.
No trip to Milano would be complete without going out for aperitivi. We walked along the Naviglio Pavese Canal and stopped into one of the many restaurants that were hopping and lively on the hot, muggy night. We selected from their buffet of pasta, cheese, meats, pizza squares… and ribs (of all things). Sally’s martini was oddly sweet and not at all martini-like.
Sally enjoyed online communications, keeping in touch with family through Skype and e-mail.
There’s a wonderful graffiti wall outside of a garden center between Corso Como and the Monumental Cemetery. What a great backdrop! This is one of my favorite photos of Sally in Milano.
We just had to take a stroll through 10 Corso Como, the city’s legendary fashion, accessories, art and design boutique. This is NOT the place to pull out your credit card, but rather just harvest ideas for garment design and construction.
We made reservations for dinner on Saturday at Malavoglia where you ring the doorbell to get in and are greeted by bow-tie-adorned owner, Aldo, and a complementary glass of bubbly prosecco. We shared a primo of fresh pasta with black squid ink sauce. It was delicious.
One of the highlights of Sally’s time in Milano was her visit to the Duomo. We spent time in the piazza, “the living room of the city”. We walked its circumference marveling at the variation in details and gloried at the cathedral’s interior. We topped off the tour with time on the rooftop, getting up close to the sculptures, finials and gargoyles, and looking out over the city.
by Maureen | May 23, 2010 | Introspection, Journal, Quips
It is 4:14 a.m. No. I haven’t gone to bed yet but the first bird just sang!
I could say I’m in the throes of jet lag, but really it was the seduction of a book given to me by my friend Anne and her kids before I left Seattle.
“The Glassblower of Murano” by Marina Fiorato, takes place in Venice. Tonight I couldn’t put it down. I settled into the couch and acquiesced to its pull.
And now the birds are singing…
Good night. (Or is it “good morning”.)
by Maureen | May 22, 2010 | Canals, Discoveries, Featured Articles, Introspection, Journal, Photo of the Day, Photos
My flight arrived yesterday evening, followed by a train ride into the city. I caught a cab and loved the winding ride through the tight streets. Summer had arrived. It was warm. People were out strolling and the sidewalk seating was filled with people enjoying their aperitivi with friends. The whole mood had shifted in two weeks! (Although I was told that the Milanese just came off a spell of rain while I was enjoying sunshine in Seattle.)
Today, less than 24 hours after returning, I was riding my bike along the canal under a sunny sky and a low-80s afternoon. I rode for more than 2 hours and smelled wild rose, jasmine, gardenia… and some plant whose scent approximates the combination of sweat and urine.
Just 15 minutes south of Milano by bike, I was enjoying the sight of bright yellow fields of rapeseed (canola) speckled red with poppies. The stuff of masters’ paintings. Beautiful.
The cottonwood fluff was so thick that I had to hold my breath as I rode through certain areas. The pathside has become downy-soft.
As I had seen both flying into Milano and on my ride, the rice paddies are being flooded and reflect the blue of the sky above. (Who would think that Milano is surrounded by rice paddies?!)
I like the summary that this ground-level billboard provides, illustrating signature Italian food products. “Giant in quality. Small in price.”
There’s a new section of bike path whose “official” opening every cyclist has been waiting months for. They long ago gave up on waiting and simply ride around the barricades. The problem is the two underpasses that were built below the level of the canal and have been flooded all winter and spring. Today, though, they were clear of water and allowed me to keep riding without risking my life in the alternate: a busy roundabout ON A BIKE! I went further today than I normally do, almost to the town of Pavia.
This collection of signs amused me. The drainage ditch and small road behind are closed. Fishing is forbidden, as is harvesting mushrooms. What are they thinking? Such a sign TELLS me that this is a hot spot for gathering mushrooms. It gives a person reason to cross over and start hunting! (Don’t they know you should always keep your mushroom spots SECRET?!)
This poor snake didn’t make it, but the salamander I saw at the last second did. I wonder what kind of snake it is…
A sculptor has taken over this old hydraulic plant and has built a workshop (low, with the blue trim) and sculpture garden, right next to one of the canal’s many locks. One of these days I’ll have to stop and chat with him.
It pleases me to have nearly completed one year on the Naviglio Pavese Canal, with its seasonal changes. It holds something different for me each time I roll along at its side and I continue to marvel and revel. I find myself singing and speaking Italian to myself. (Uh oh. Scary.) And I certainly find myself smiling.
by Maureen | May 22, 2010 | Incredible Locations, Introspection, Journal, Quips, Seattle
Seattleites wear fleece, gore-tex, lycra and denim. Their fashion sense is inspired by the sporty, athletic look, whether or not they’re either sporty or athletic. Some are so casual as to be sloppy.
The Milanese wear cotton, linen, silk and wool. Denim seems reserved for the colder, winter months. More women wear skirts and dresses, and more men wear suits than I ever see in Seattle. The look is lean and trim…and sexy.
Is it a matter of level of formality? Fashion awareness? Traditional mores? What drives such visible stylistic trends?
Of course these are generalizations and certainly there are a hundred other directions seen in both places. But to have just been in Seattle for two weeks, able to observe with fresh eyes, the differences are remarkable.
