Lists

While in the Maremma, we could see the distant outline of Isola d'Elba, an island I was interested in visiting. Back in Florence, I read about all the island offered- a variety of beaches, hiking, snorkeling, sunshine, and Napoleon's villa during his one year exile on the island.  Elba is accessible via public transportation from Florence.  This was a good destination for a seaside vacation.  I  read  lists of "best" hotels and selected Hotel del Golfo, with its own sandy beach and swimming pools.  Then, I wrote a couple of lists to take with me-- other beaches to visit, historical sites to see, restaurants to try.  I was ready!  

The journey took five hours with two trains, a ferry and a taxi to reach the hotel.  I arrived in the late afternoon, checked in to my room, changed for the beach.  A swim followed by a late dinner facing the sea ended the day.  My list would wait. 

The next morning after breakfast, I stopped by the front desk and met the hotel manager, Massimo.  He patiently talked with me about my list.  He opened a map on his computer and showed me the different beaches, explaining the process to reach each one via bus.  The beach at Sant'Andrea was an hour one way, then a walk to the beach. Napoleon's villa- also an hour by bus.  Of course, I could rent a car or a motor scooter.  I declined.  After fifteen minutes, Massimo looked at me and in a kind voice said, "Madam, please go enjoy the sunbed and relax.  This list is stress.  If you want stress, you can come behind this desk.  Please, go to the sunbed for me, since I cannot go myself."  I nodded in agreement.  

On the walk back to my room, I reconsidered my list.  Did I really care about seeing Napoleon's villa?  No.  Did I need to take a bus to another beach when I had a beautiful beach right here with my own sunbed and umbrella?  No. So,  I put away the list, gathered my beach bag and walked to sunbed #84, where I happily remained for the next six days.  

Neighbors

When the electricity in the apartment fails, the immigration appointment is cancelled, and you have wonderful neighbors who say, "Take the bus tomorrow and join us at the beach",  you pack immediately.  

During the first month in my apartment in Florence, I met my next door neighbors-- first I talked with Ursula over the garden fence, then a couple of weeks later,  she and Sergio invited me for dinner. We quickly formed a connection and have shared many local activities, meals, and travels. They met my kids on Christmas Eve, and we had lively conversation over a holiday aperitivo. 

The beach that my neighbors frequent is in the Maremma, the coastal area of Tuscany that borders the Tyrrhenian Sea.  At one time the area was marshland and infested with mosquitoes carrying malaria.  By order of Fernando I de'Medici, the area was drained.  Now, centuries later, the hillsides are beautiful with many agricultural fields.  To reach them, I took two busses and they met me at the bus station in Grosseto. We ate a wonderful seafood lunch, stopped at a winery, and did some exploring before going to Il Pino B&B, near Vetulonia, in the municipality of Castiglione della Pescaia.  This is the Tuscany of post cards-- pine and cypress trees, sunflowers, rolling hills, and the sea!

The B&B was up a dirt road, through a grove of olive trees. ( http://www.ilpinobeb.it/en/#home)

We were greeted by the friendly owners and their equally friendly dog, Leopoldo, or Poldo for short. The grounds are filled with flowers and giant agave plants. My accommodation was a two-floor small apartment, with a kitchen and a patio, pictured below.  For my first night, Ursula suggested that we eat dinner on the patio, so we could watch the sunset over the hills. (NB- The pool in the photo is about a dozen steps from the patio- just a bad perspective in this photo.  For the two mornings I was there, I got up extra early to swim before breakfast, which I think the owners found amusing. But, the second morning the cover was off the pool before I had to ask.) 

We had two warm and sunny beach days.  There are different beach areas-- the public area where people bring their own beach gear, and the private area where you pay for chairs and umbrellas.  That's the side my neighbors chose, and it was very comfortable.  We brought lunch with us, though there was a cafe to purchase coffee, salads, pasta, snacks, gelato.  Before we ate, Sergio bought three small bottles of wine to accompany lunch.  Italy, right? 

For dinner that evening, the choice was either seafood or meat.  Since I don't like most shellfish, my neighbors decided on a favorite place in the area-- a farm that produces all their food, and serves dinner several nights a week. ( https://www.biotodo.it)

Golden light on the fields before sunset. 

Antipasti.  Not for vegetarians!! 

Our dinner on the grill! 

Dinner was a feast-- antipasti, zucchini salad, eggplant, tomatoes, bread, wine, mixed grill (pork for me and Ursula, steak for Sergio), dessert and grappa.  The total cost was 20 euros each.

After the second beach day, we returned to the B&B to shower before the two-hour drive to Florence.  We stopped for dinner at the medieval, walled village of Monteriggiani.  Another fascinating piece of history!  In the car, I said to Ursula that she and Sergio could start a tour company.  She replied, "So far, we've only shown you 1% of what we know."  Sign me up for the other 99 percent, per favore! 

Efficiency

In order to remain in Florence for a long-term stay, a non-EU visitor must go to the "questura" to apply for a "permesso di soggoiorno". This means an individual has an appointment at police headquarters to apply for a residency permit.  Due to both the backlog of applications and three months of lockdown, my first meeting has been postponed three times.  This means my first appointment will now occur in mid-September, more than one year after I arrived in Florence.  No one here seems surprised or worried by this fact, except for me.

A week before the second postponement of June 23,  I thought a "bad weather day" provided a good opportunity to re-organize and photocopy the required documents.  Basically, I have to provide the same paperwork I submitted to the Italian consulate in NYC in June, 2019, when I applied for my visa. Some copies of these same papers were mailed to the questura the week that I arrived, in order to even establish an appointment.  Included in the required documents are-- apartment lease, Italian health insurance, tax returns, financial statements, passport, visa, and four passport-size photographs. To organize the documents took some time: I spread everything out on my bed and compiled the papers in categories, each secured neatly with a paper clip. I walked to the nearby photocopy shop  and was the first customer after their lunch break.  The guy in the shop was efficient and completed the copying in minutes, returning each section neatly in paper clips, the same as I had presented them to him.  Honestly, I was surprised at the ease of copying, because life here is not efficient. 

As many people around the world know, there is much to love about Italy. Generally, though, life is not efficient.  That is an aspect of living here that I do not enjoy! In the autumn after my arrival, I attended a group hike.  While hiking I spoke with a gentleman from Canada.  He and his partner vacation regularly in Florence and he told me that his partner gets angry about how long everything takes to accomplish.  I immediately agreed and illustrated with an example of doing laundry. Just the day before, it took me all morning to wash and dry sheets and towels.  Two separate loads of wash, which I completed in my apartment.  Then, a walk to the laundromat to dry the towels.  Wait 40 minutes, and return home.  The towels are never completely dry, so they have to go on a drying rack anyway.  (Alternatively, I could have only used my drying rack, completed the laundry in stages, and skipped the laundromat.  The result then -- sheets need to be ironed, towels are crunchy. ) I lamented about how quickly I finished the laundry in New Jersey, barely giving it a thought. The Canadian responded with the question he asks his partner, "Here in Italy, what would you have done with the time you saved?"   

My sheets are on the drying rack. 

(NB- On the day I organized the papers, I did go out for lunch.  Another neighborhood spot for salad, pasta with sausage, tomatoes, capers called "Rigatoni della Signora"  and a glass of red wine.  Perfetto!) 

Back in the Pool

After more than three months (March 9- June 18), I went lap swimming in a stunning outdoor pool in a park near my apartment in Florence. (I did swim at my brother's pool in Florida, though it is not regulation lap distance.)  Some people may remember the photograph of this pool that I shared last September via social media. While the pool opened several weeks ago, due to my quarantine and the rainy mornings, today was my first day in the pool.  When I paid the three euros to enter for a one-hour lap swim, the gentleman working at the desk told me that last year at this time they already had 2,000 visitors; this year there were only 200 visitors to date.  He speculated that worry about Covid-19 and the unusual rainy, cool weather provided the explanation.  

The pool has strict regulations to follow.  You must complete a questionnaire to certify that you are not sick, and have not been near anyone who is sick.  (Or, conveniently, you can download an app and pay online.) You may not use the locker rooms, though the bathrooms are open.  Before entering onto the pool deck, you have to remove your shoes (I was thoughtfully given a plastic bag to store my shoes and switch to flip-flops.  No items can be placed on a lounge chair, unless you have paid the eight euros for the entire day. The chairs are all sanitized. I learned this because I mistakenly  placed my gym bag on a lounge chair, and had to instead just leave it on the ground next to the chair.  

Finally in the pool, I was elated.  For me, swimming is my salvation. My father taught me to swim, and for this I am thankful. A morning swim is meditation, a chance to clear my head and start the day with a smile. Swimming is an opportunity to stretch out, especially after too many hours of sitting.  I can return to the pool after an injury before resuming any other activity.  However, this first swim post-lockdown was a challenge. With my first few laps, I was sucking wind!  My heart was beating hard and I had to take a breath on every stroke.  Eventually, my strokes and breathing worked together into a smoother rhythm.  I was slower than usual, but still nice and steady.  Tomorrow will be better, I am certain. "Domani andra' meglio, sono certo."

At home, I showered, changed and thought about where to go for lunch. A long swim earned a hearty meal and what would be better than salad and pizza?  From my social media feed, I had seen pictures showing Ristorante Accademia with tables in Piazza San Marco.  The best pizza in the city in one of the most beautiful locations. Un buon idea!  I walked to further burn those calories, and discovered that the outdoor tables are only for dinner.  No problem! The lunch was still wonderful, and the owner, Gianni, was present.  We caught up briefly and when I left he reminded me to call him to reserve a spot for dinner.  That I will do!

Randomly, to further show my devotion to swimming, here's a photo of my most favorite pool.  You can tell this pool is in Boulder because of the view of the iconic Flatirons.

Spruce Street Pool, Boulder, Colorado

Across the Courtyard

My apartment in Florence is on the ground floor by Italian standards and the first floor by American standards.  Instead of a balcony, there is a small garden area and patio.  Outside of the living room is a cafe table and outside the bedroom are two wicker chairs and an umbrella.  There are roses, an olive tree, and bamboo that covers the back fence.  My garden faces the back of another apartment building.  There are walkways between apartments, what my mother called a "catwalk". Sometimes I see my backyard neighbors sweeping, or more commonly hanging laundry.  One woman and I wave to each other whenever we are both outside.

Last week, I saw someone new cleaning the catwalk. She's petite, young looking, with very short blond hair- almost a buzz cut. She doesn't resemble anyone else I've seen in those apartments. I saw her again the day after.  I wasn't sure if she saw me, and we didn't look at one another at the same time.  Then, two days ago, she was leaning out of a hallway window and our gaze met.  We waved and shouted an enthusiastic "Buongiorno"!  And, that was it.  (The window is on the left with a green shade.) 

Today, I was sitting outside eating lunch and reading the newspaper on my phone.  You know how you get that feeling that someone is looking at you?  Well, I glanced up from my phone, and there was the woman with the short hair leaning out of that same window and waiting for me to notice. We both smiled, waved, and shared the customary "Buongiorno!"  That moment got me thinking about how much I like that greeting. As with most Italian words, I love the way it sounds. It's widely used, both informally among friends or to complete strangers. To me, the phrase is always said with warmth, as if the person truly wishes you a good day.  The American greeting of "Hello!" does not achieve this depth.  Forget, "Hi! How are you?" which doesn't necessarily signal any interest on the part of the greeter.  Even worse, is the awful "Hey there!" which seems especially distant. 

Will I ever meet the new woman across the courtyard?  My Italian is still limited, and we would have to shout to converse.  Allora, for now, we'll stick with wishing one another a good day.
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