Neighborhood Places

"Grazie, cara."  "Carissima." "Ciao bella".  These are common salutations in Italy, phrases I hear routinely from strangers, shop owners and friends.  It is part of the Italian charm, what makes people feel welcome quickly.  Combine these with the joy of being in a favorite neighborhood spot, and you will think you are at home. 

On my second day in Florence (September, 2021), I wanted to get some lunch, so I went outside to see what I could discover.  From my apartment, I walked a few minutes to Piazza Tasso, but nothing intrigued me.  On to via del Campuccio, which has no restaurants, but connects to other streets with cafes.  On the corner of via dei Serragli there were tables outside, a few people and the sign of "Caffe Mi Piace" ("I like coffee") over the doorframe. It looked like a good choice. I poked my head in the door, said "Buongiorno", and surveyed the platters of vegetables, pastas, rice and meat that were on the top shelf.  Everything looked tasty and fresh. The owner asked if I wanted a "plate of the day."  Certo!  

The "piatto del giorno" is a mixed plate of what the chef has prepared for the day.  This cafe is owned by a husband and wife, and the wife does the cooking.  My first visit, and on each subsequent visit, I sat outside  within a small area equal to several parking places that was surrounded by plants. The portions are generous and the couple is proud of the food they prepare.   Grilled radicchio, broccoli, beans, rice.  Fresh bread. Sparkling water.  On my first visit, I spoke with a woman seated nearby.  The owner brought me a small pastry and when she said she wanted one too, he replied it was only for tourists.  They clearly knew one another and laughed.  

When I returned the following week, the owner smiled and said, "Ciao, bella." There it is- the sweet recognition and a way to say "Welcome back".  He turned to his wife and asked if she remembered me.  She scowled and said of course.  When I started to choose what I would have for lunch, she said to me that she would prepare the plate.  Ok.  I went to sit in the sun.  When I finished eating and went inside to pay, the husband of the couple asked for 8 euros instead of 8.50.  A small "thank you" for my return visit. 

When visitors think about aspects of Italy that they love, surely this scenario comes to mind-- a warm greeting, wonderful food, a reasonable price, the feeling of belonging.  Certainly, all over the developed world this exchange and opportunity exists.  A local coffee shop, wine store, or favorite pizzeria.  What makes the experience so special in Italy? 

Shortly after the second visit, I sprained my ankle and couldn't easily walk to Caffe Mi Piace.  But, when I again returned, I was greeted with "Ciao, amica" by the husband, Roberto, and a friendly smile from the wife.  (He is clearly the more gregarious of the two.)  I sat at my usual table in the sun and was served a generous meal of seasonal specialities.  Other people ate lunch outside, some with a mixed plate, others just had pasta.  Many people picked up food to go.  A few ordered a panini, or just a quick coffee.  Roberto seemed to know everyone.  

Tomorrow the weather will be warm and sunny, even though it's mid-November.  I'll go back to Caffe Mi Piace, sit at my usual table, and enjoy being a "regular" in the neighborhood.  Grazie, cara.  

Massa Marittima

On the third day of our weekend getaway in the Maremma, my friends opted to skip the beach and instead visit the town of Massa Marittima on our way back to Florence.  I had not been to this town, and truth be told, had not heard of it.  Sergio mentioned that I would get to see the famous fresco of a "cock tree".  I wasn't sure how to imagine this fresco, and Sergio just said to wait and see.  I was intrigued.  

Shortly after we left the B and B, we turned off onto a dirt road. "Where does this lead?" I asked?  The reply, "To the house up ahead."  Our first stop was at a farm to buy some of their favorite jarred veggies and sauces.  First we chatted.  Then, we selected vegetables that were picked that morning-- pomodorini, lettuce, zucchini blossoms, an assortment of peppers.  We crossed the lot from the farm area into the shop where there are cupboards of jarred vegetables.  A specialty of this shop is the artichokes.  After a comprehensive selection, payment and more conversation, we were on our way.  

Since we were still in the hills of Tuscany, the drive was beautiful.  We reached the municipal parking lot of Massa Marittima in time to get one of the last spots.  It was Sunday, good weather, and a mountain bike race ending in the town!  Our first stop was the fresco.  

Try to look closely and see the "unusual fruit" hanging from the tree and that the women are collecting.  The fresco is located behind a trough where women would go to wash clothes.  It was hidden behind a plaster wall and discovered in 1999!!  The fresco is dated between 1265 and 1335 and referred to as the "Tree of Fertility".  It might also have been symbolic for an abundant harvest.  

The area of the town dates back to prehistoric times.  There were Etruscan settlements nearby.  It was caught between the wars of Siena and Florence. In more recent history, Massa Marittima  was an important site for the mining of minerals such as iron, mercury and copper.  The last mines closed in 1994, and now its main income is tourism. And, apparently, mountain biking.  

The construction on this cathedral dates to the 1200's.  It is dedicated to San Cerbone, Saint Cerbonius, who had a long and unusual life.  His story is told in bas relief around his tomb inside the church and also above the door on the outside of the cathedral.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cerbonius

https://www.turismomassamarittima.it/en/la-cattedrale-di-san-cerbone/

The day we visited Massa Marittima, was also the day of a mountain bike race.  For me, this was quite special as it brought back memories of the many times I accompanied my son to various mountain bike races and courses, especially before he could drive.  In this piazza, the contrast of the young riders and the ancient buildings was notable.  

http://www.thetrailbrothers.com/en/

The day was wonderful and filled with the joy of being in Italy-- good friends, surprising art, ancient history, great food, and the sign of new life in old surroundings.

Be sure to add Massa Marittima to your travel list for Tuscany!  Ciao for now! 

The Maremma

Travel might take us to a new place, or to a favorite destination.   When my neighbors asked me to join them for a trip to the Maremma, of course I agreed.  The Maremma is one of my favorite places along the Tuscan coast. And, we would stay at an agriturismo (B and B) that feels like home-- with kind hosts, a friendly dog, a pool, and a spectacular view into the hills.

The Maremma is located on the western side of Tuscany. The drive from Florence is beautiful-- rolling hills, olive groves, corn fields and in the summer, acres of sunflowers.  Some of the land remains undeveloped, in part due to the wetlands and malaria that existed only decades ago.   There are hilltop villages and castles, towns along the coast, hotels and vacation rentals.  Unlike in Florida where I spent several weeks this summer, the land around the coast is not flat and there are no palm trees.

https://www.discovertuscany.com/maremma/

http://www.travelingintuscany.com/engels/maremma.htm

At the beaches in Italy, it is common to pay for services at a "bagno".  Each bagno has a name and provides what you need for the day-- lounge chairs and umbrella, a place to change, bathrooms, and a restaurant.  The colors of the umbrellas vary from one bagno to another, which creates the rainbow that you see in the pictures of Italian beach resorts. Since it was already the first of October, only a few of the bagnos were open.  We had a very nice spot with Bagno La Vela which we enjoyed for two days of sun and waves.

http://www.castiglionepescaia.it/en/5079-2/

On our first evening, we drove to Vetulonia for an aperitivo and sunset.  The origins of the town date back to Etruscan times- approximately 600 years BC.  In past years, my friends rented a flat in Vetulonia to use a base to go to the beach and explore the area. I had also been to Vetulonia with them before and understood its lure.  When we arrived to one of the few bars, they were greeted warmly. The bar with a view to the sunset is a popular gathering spot.  I asked my friend about the population and she reminded me that there are 254 inhabitants.  There was a mix of old and young having a spritz or beer.  I wondered what it would be like to live in such a small community, full of natural beauty and history, though none of the activities that I enjoy.  

Dinner both evenings were at a local restaurant near our B and B.  The restaurant was busy, with tables inside and outside.  There were German tourists at the table next to us.  The service was efficient, the wine and food very good.  The first night I had cream of pumpkin soup, salad, tagliatelle with cinghiale (wild boar sauce). The second night I had pizza.  Certo!  Speaking of wild boars, we did spot a white boar on the side of the road as we drove back in the dark to where we were staying.  The next night, I was awakened by clacking and digging sounds-- wild boar tearing up the yard to eat the roots of the grass. I did not get out of bed to investigate, and in the morning was a bit regretful that I had missed such a photo opportunity.  

The time at the beach, early morning swims, and good company were just the reset I needed after a frustrating week of trying to recover the items that were in my stolen wallet.  

The third day we bypassed the beach and instead went to a small farm and then the old city of Massa Marittima.  That will be a separate post. 

What is possible?

I drafted this post more than a month ago, when I was still in Florence.  The idea of "possibilities", though, is relevant in many circumstances. Often, I have to remind myself that I have a choice, that there is more than one possibility. I recall that on my first trip to Italy, a hotel manager in Rome explained this--"Americans think that there is only one possibility, for instance 2+2=4.  But, Italians understand that there is more than one possibility, that 3+1 also equals 4."  Here is how I came to more fully comprehend and admire how some Italians interpret a rule.

In the late autumn, when the restrictions in Florence increased to "zona rossa" or "red zone", most shops closed and the movement of residents was curtailed. Some of the restrictions were vague, which made me nervous.  What exactly was meant that a person could exercise on foot or bicycle, but "near one's home"?  Could I go for a jog in the park or not?  What was I supposed to write on the required "declaration" form?  Would my reason for being out be accepted if I were stopped by the polizia? 

The first day of the restrictions, I decided to stay in except to get groceries a block away.  I discussed the situation with my neighbors. Ursula printed out copies of the required "declaration" form, and Sergio explained how to fill in the information.  They each reassured me that I could go for a jog and take walks.  Sergio elaborated, "Basically, no one cares." 

The obvious choices of shops to be open were the food stores, pharmacies, banks, post offices, shipping agents, newspaper stands.  Additionally, stores selling children's clothes could be open, which applied to The Disney Store, even though its clothing section was limited. Also open were shops selling intimate apparel (underwear, socks, pajamas) and self-care items. Sephora (make-up and more) was open, as was Jo Malone (expensive fragrances and candles).   So, one afternoon I took a walk to Sephora.  I was beginning to understand. 

Included in the food stores were also shops selling gelato and chocolate. Close to Sephora and the breathtaking Duomo is Venchi, with its dramatic wall of flowing chocolate.   I stopped to get candy for Christmas gifts, and also a gelato. Perche' no?  Why not?   I asked for a cone.  The saleswoman replied that she could not put my gelato in a cone, but she could give me a cone.  Here's how it worked-- my two scoops of gelato (two different flavors) were placed in a cup and another cup was placed on top.  This went into a bag... followed by a small spoon in its own bag, a cone in its own cellophane bag, and a paper napkin. I paid, found a place to sit outside, removed my mask, and disassembled the bags.  Instead of having the gelato piled on the cone, I used the cone as a scoop.  I have to confess that my first reaction was to be pleased about the creativity of the shop to insure that each customer would still get a cone.  My second reaction though, was concern about the additional garbage and cost of the bags within the bags.     

Each day, I figured out somewhere to walk, and filled in something vague on the required form. (I was never stopped.) A particularly fortuitous incident occurred on a walk on via Santo Spirito.  I passed an art shop where I had previously purchased a print, that was still in a poster tube at my apartment. I noticed the lights were on and the owners were inside.  I knocked and the son unlocked the door to let me in.  I commented that I was glad they were allowed to be open.  The son hesitated and said, "Well, we are here, and if someone walks by and wants to come in to the store, then we let them."  "Ho capito," I replied.  I purchased two more prints, and the owners mailed my previous purchase and the new prints to the US for me.  

There were numerous other times that we all found ways to live within the rules in a creative way-- getting a coffee or Prosecco in a shop and drinking in the open-air piazza, finding a place to hike that was technically inside of the city limits of Florence when we weren't allowed to leave town.  Quindi, therefore, the hotel manager from my first trip was correct, Italians know there is more than one way.  

Seasons

A few days ago, November 6, I joined my neighbor to help with her friend's olive harvest.  Last November I went to pick olives for the first time at the same place. So much of my life in New Jersey was marked by the seasons, and it felt special to have that same experience in a different country. However, one year ago, the day had a different feel. For me personally, it was the start of my stay in Italy, with every day full of promise. Globally, there was no pandemic and no tension about waiting for the choice of the new US president.         

A day in the countryside to pick olives provided a break from constantly checking my phone to see the latest numbers for the Covid cases and the election results.  Being outside and "distanced" from  other people meant an entire day without needing a mask!  I felt productive and happy to contribute to such a worthwhile project as making olive oil. 

The Trump presidency and the election were often topics of conversation among American ex-pats, but also with my Italian friends and even with strangers.  Last week, while at the laundromat drying my sheets, a gentleman came in and inquired about the change machine and whether soap was needed in the washer.  (All the instructions are written in Italian and English.  He spoke Italian.) He asked me where I was from and when I replied "the United States" he gave a thumbs up and said, "Biden".  

Then, while olive picking, one of the women asked me why the election was taking so long.  She spoke a bit of English, and my Italian skills were not enough to explain the process of the absentee ballots and mail-in votes.  But, we did our best and she seemed to understand the many complications.  I'll tell you, when an Italian shakes her head over American bureaucracy, you know you are in trouble!!

Now, the election has been decided.  Hopefully, my sleep will improve! And, for America and the rest of the world, I have much bigger hopes.