Pigeons

Ever watched the pigeons at Granville Island? 

 We have many experiences with pigeons at Granville Island and in piazzas here. We love watching them. Each pigeon is uniquely colored and has their own style of walking and bobbing their head in the same beat. Their colors are irridescent. They have sometimes been relegated to, "rats with wings."

The male pigeons are constantly puffing up their feathers and strutting around the female, emitting the nonverbal but clear message of, "Hey, Look at me! I am big and beautiful. I am male. Check out this strut, baby." All the while, whatever the female pigeon was doing, usually on the hunt for a crumb or yummy morsel, she keeps on doing it. He persists. She resists. 

The pigeons are not too concerned about whether they are  alone or in a flock. They just are therein the piazza doing their own thing.

Certain distinct pigeons hang out in certain piazzas. Piazza Santa Spirito, has a beautiful white pigeon and another with a club foot. They fit there.

Our time out has allowed us to watch a lot of pigeons and their funny antics. They hop up and down, swoop and dodge in the air, play games, sleep or meander over the cobblestones. Pigeons try to hoard their little bits of bread, jockey in the crowd to get their rightful portion when a fresh piece is thrown. And when another pigeon has a tidbit or chunk, they go after it. They are always ready, waiting and watching to get the advantage on the next dinner piece.

In the evening, when the pigeons have gone to bed, you see the evidence of their being there. Pigeons leave their mark, a lot of marks. Naturally, we have sat in a few and caught one or two on the arm. 

Some people notice the pigeons and go out of their way to feed them, others ignore or don't see them and still another group are annoyed by their presence, even if the pigeons are not in the way. 

People are just like pigeons.

Time

Time Out in Tuscany.... who would have guessed how profound that title would become to us. 

We suffer dizziness from our eyes darting in so many directions. We look forward to Canadian family and friends, backward to Italian memories and moments, inward to evaluate learnings and life lessons, and Upward to again be ever grateful. 

In all these views, time has been the common essence. We have written previously of the different approach the Italian mind has to time management and we have had a few more late dinner chats about it.

Madelaine L'Engle, author of Walking on Water, writes about two types of time, chronos, our wristwatch time, and kairos, real time - the time we are being. In chronos we find restrictions, deadlines and wrinkles appearing, whereas in kairos , there is a suspension of restriction, it is unmeasurable. It is the cup of coffee with the friend, a Sunday afternoon tea with grandma, a child lost in their play, or an artist creating. Kairos is unrelated to chronos.  Italians embrace kairos not chronos.

This came to another practical and fun realization in the measurement of distance.  We, Canadians measure distance in time. For example, we say," How far is Kelowna from Vancouver? 4 hours (except when Sandy is driving in the summer!). Whereas an Italian would answer; "380 kms - You get there when you get there. One never knows, we may stop at the auto grille for a picnic, there may be a bus strike...alora, okay!?!" They would never dream of answering in chronos, because they live more in kairos...

Our chronos Time out in Tuscany is fast ticking down but our kairos Time Out in Tuscany will always be.

".... the Purple Way"

"I want it the purple way!" was always Hannah's bedtime comment about her blanket. She had three ballerina bunnies and the one with the purple tutu always had to be closest to her face before she could close her eyes for the night.

 Some things never change. Circumstances may change, but the core of who we are rarely does. Sunday heard Hannah again exclaim, " Ale Viola!" (Viola is Italian for purple) She was cheering for the AC Fiorentina soccer team with 50,000+ fans. She got her purple close to her face!  In fact, she, Randy and I were immersed in a sea of purple. And once again, confronted with passion from another pursuit. 

AC Fiorentina won the game, 1-0 and everyone left happy, except for the few Sampdoria fans who were behind a 20 meter high security fence. Yup, that's right. A corner section of the stadium reserved for visiting team's fans was fenced off for safety. We sat at mid-field, about 10 rows up and had a blast, listening to the cheering, clapping and singing of the passionate soccer fanatics. It was a visual feast with numerous flags and banners waving (especially the end zones) and fans jumping in unison to certain chants.

There are a few differences with Italian responses to the game versus Canadian responses to a hockey game. For instance, when the home team has a scoring chance or breakaway, no one stands. They stay seated. Fans always clap after a scoring chance, even if no goal is scored. When the opposing team is pressing for a goal, home team fans whistle in unison to distract or hassle them. In the end, the fans did give AC Fiorentina a strong home field advantage which resulted in a win, the purple way.

Passion-Go Big or Go Home

Yesterday was sensory overload and an overdose of Italian passion. We absolutely loved it, devouring it all!

After saying goodbye to Al and Des on the platform, we watched them through the train window with the usual and awkward conversation, "Permisso, you are in my reserved seat." Only this time, as the train doors sealed and it inched out of the station, Al with angst pasted on his face managed to communicate to us that their tickets were mistakenly made for tomorrow, not today..... Ah, the joys of travel. We are sure the conductor would help them on their trip to Lago di Como, as we noticed a few empty seats in other cars.

From there our day took off. Previous entries have alluded to the passion of the Italian culture, heart and mind. In one day, we experienced its full force and multi-dimensionally, making the sum greater than the parts, and all the more rich.

First, it was the grand Mille Miglia. A 1000 mile round trip race from Brescia to Rome and back, in vintage race cars. 377 cars to be exact. Lots of early 1920's automobiles, up to 1957 models. Vintage motor cars by Bugatti, Haley, Ferrari, Alfa Romeo, Lancia, Maserati, with a few old Jags, Porsches and BMW's and the odd Volkswagen and Citroen thrown in. It made for a balanced feast of leggendas! Check out the video.

They cruised over the Santa Trinita Bridge and along the Arno. The support cars were new Ferraris , Maseratis and BMW's. I am not sure who was enjoying the race more, the drivers themselves, or all the masses of fans lining the roadsides. Passion of design excellence over generations was showcased.

 Immediately after the race, which just happened to be re-routed a few days prior because of the next passionate event, was the "Dante 100 Canti." It was a highly organized celebration of oral recitations and readings, happening simultaneously at various places in the historic centre, of Dante's Divine Comedy. Dante was a Florentine in the early 1300's. His writing was the first literature to be written in the Italian spoken vernacular. Up till then, all literature had been in Latin, thus the Divina Comedia established the Tuscan dialect. School age children, teens, senior citizens, amateur and professional, all participated, performing their cantos with similar passion. Based on inferno, purgatorio and paradiso, all afterlife views, made for more profound performances. So as we are awaiting a canto to start in a tiny piazza, we hear a band and loud chanting along a main shopping street. Not skipping a beat, we scurried out to watch a massive anti-police protest, peace demonstration and march by the Communist party and other supportive groups and tag-a-longs. In front of us was political passion, behind us, literary passion and yet to come was the passionate La Boheme Opera. 

Yup, why not, we asked ourselves. Only in Italy we figured, would we embrace a full Italian opera. So our Saturday culminated in a beautiful and tender opera of passion and poverty. We all loved it. As we strolled home in the warm evening, we marveled and celebrated the passionate heart of the Italian people. It is a beauty to behold. The final act of passion we witnessed was just outside our door. A young guy was riding along on his pink bicycle when he wiped out. Oh, he was okay. He took a few seconds to pull himself out from under his bike, and when he did, the first thing he did was to search out his fallen, stubby cigarette and get those last few passionate draws out of it. Who said all passion was wise? 

The Green Line

While enjoying our morning coffee on the terrace this morning, Randy asked me, "Is this trip an escape for you?"

 I looked over at him, wondering what part of the blue sky that question came from, and answered, "Nope."

"Me neither," he replied.

"Hmm. You know what this trip is for me?" I asked back at him. 

" It is the green line." 

 "Ah, I like that a lot!" he laughingly said. 

I continued, " We got off the autostrada and are a side road that is slow and scenic. But we are still moving forward." 

The green line is found in the Michelin road maps.  Alongside segments of different types of road there is an adjacent green line indicating scenic views. We always try to get on those to wherever we are going.

Reading between the lines of Randy's question is a heartache. One of his key employees, younger than him, suffered a massive heart attack over two weeks ago and has been in a coma since. Everyday we check for updates and pray for him and his family. At the same time, I am grateful all over again for the gift of a time out to take the green line, for his  business partners, and especially for Randy. 

The Musts of Maranello and Modena

Friday found the Shier Five cruising in a Lancia "Delta" to Maranello and Modena. Maranello was the hometown of Enzo Ferrari and is still the current site of his factory, dynasty and legend. Al is currently working on a project for a Ferrari theme ride in Dubai, so we had to help him do research and connect with his Italian business contact. It was a must do. Although we never saw his associate, we did get VIP treatment with access into the exclusive RM/ Sotheby's Auction Preview of antique, rare and private collections of Ferraris, titled "Leggenda e Passione." We were hob-nobbing with the Whose Who, of whom I do not have clue. What I did know was  I "fidn't dit," when the auction catalogue was available for only a measly price of 70 euro. The reserved bids on the cars ranged from 65,000 Euros for a '69  365 GT Ferrari to 5.5 million Euros for the mint '62 250 GT California Ferrari. Two bid estimates had no stated price other than "available upon request." One of those cars was a rare '57 250 Testa Rossa..... The benevolent  auction item, a Ferrari donation, was the last F430 off the 2008 line. All funds were going to help the L'Aquila earthquake victims. If these prices are too steep to bid on, there was a set of postcards and media material starting at 5,ooo E.  

We were privileged to be right at the test track to watch owners of new Ferraris drive their works of art on the circuit. You could see their smiles through the fence.

From there it was a recommended must do lunch @ Ristorante Montana, where the Ferrari drivers and management hang out. There is no menu. Your options are what Mama Rosalee decides that day. It was the best pasta in Italy yet and it all came at the same time! The decor was Ferrari racing paraphernalia, including helmets, spare parts and lots of signatures. 

Fully Ferrari'd, we headed to Modena, home of the balsamic vinegar. After walking through the historic center with its covered arcades and cobbled streets, we went to an "agriturismo," a functioning Acetaia (balsamic vinegar winery). Surprisingly, Modena within itself does not promote its world renowned product.

 Davide gave us a tour of his Acetaia and four tastings. A true Modena Balsamic vinegar is made from only white Trebbiano and red Lambrusco grapes. No vinegar, colorings or sulphites added. Just traditional passion and grape must (crush).  The entire process, a minimum 3 years up to 30 years, goes through a series of 5 barrels, each sucessively smaller. The older the barrel the better. Tasting the 12 yr and the 25 year old balsamic was a tanatalizing hint of a golden nectar made in heaven. It costs about the same too, understandably. The older mellowed balsamic is a very good digestive apertif.  Thankfully, the Japanese asked for a high quality, moderately priced condiment. A 3 year old vinegar without additives that everyone can enjoy.  So now we must....

Cinque Terre

Cinque Terre is literally "the Five Lands" on the western Ligurian Coast. Each little town has a unique flavour waiting to be discovered, just like yummy gelatos. This area is also the original home of pesto and foccacia. Of course we gladly ate our share and yours! Enough in fact for the next six months!

 The Cinque Terre is five picturesque, pastel-painted towns clinging to rugged cliffs, as if their lives depended on it. (And they do, based on the high tourist volume). The main attraction is a five hour, connected hike from Riomaggiore to Monterosso via Manarola, Corniglia, and Vernazza. These towns are only accessible to each other via this path and train. The hike begins with the Via D'Amore, a flat, wide, smooth pathway, very similar to Stanley Park's Seawall. From there it gets progressively more rugged and narrower, wrapping along the cliff's edge through terraced vineyards and olive orchards, and undulating through gulleys and over precipices with breathtaking views around each corner. The camera shutters  were on overdrive! Of course my little german boy, Randy, and his brother loved the WWII German pillbox and played a game of "Band of Brothers".

We based ourselves in the fourth town, Vernazza. The main street is no more than 400 meters from  the train platform to the water's edge, lined with classic small town characters in their shops. The street was empty and had closed shop by 9 pm and struggled to be alive the next morning by 8:30am for the anxiously hungry and scheduled tourist. 

Conquering the first three hikes the first day we saved the longest, from Vernazza to Monterosso, for the second day. Randy and I were here in 2001 and loved it. So to be able to experience it again with Al, Des and Hannah was extra special for us. There is a new delight in seeing a known through someone else's lens. It also felt we were on a holiday from our holiday. Breaking from the craziness of looming architecture, throngs of people and noxious smells in Florence, to God's palette of soft verdant foliage, fresh sea breezes complemented by crashing waves and rugged beauty, was a gift. Seeing how man has squeezed and adapted himself onto this canvas was also inspiring. We also took a short train north and hiked to Portofino. It is the antithesis of Vernazza. Portofino is a small luxury port for the rich, famous, posers and us.  

 Hannah and I both affirmed we have the ocean blood in us. It is at the seashore where we feel most at home. Our spirits are calmed by the rhythm of the waves. No matter what is going on around me, the waves wash in and out, giving and taking, as guided by the hand of God. Herein is my comfort and contentment. 

Heading home, of course the train was late and took longer, but with Al along, he is always good for some extra free entertainment. Arriving back home in Florence mid-day, invigorated by nature, we took to going for a bike ride again along the Arno..... 

Type A's.

First an apology for the delay in posting. We have been exceptionally busy and not around the computer much and when we have, Hannah has been busy downloading photos and doing homework.

Thus said, Italy is getting better and more exciting by the day. She is waking up... I feel like I am covered in bruises from pinching myself to make sure all is real. To summarize, Randy's brother Al and his wife Des arrived last Friday, the 8th, Rachael left early on Saturday 9th for Austria for 5 months. We were in the Cinque Terre from Tuesday to Thursday and Maranello, the home of Ferrari on Friday, with Al and Des departing yesterday morning, the 16th. All of these experiences are worth a blog each, therefore this first one will be just about North American, Type A personalities in Italy.

They do not mesh well. Period. Unless Mr. or Ms. Type A is willing to undergo character development or let go. To quote Rachael, "Traveling is not a vacation here!" Expectations need to be either thrown out the train window or anticipated as a dessert. Just because you all order primi piatti (first course), is no guarantee that they will all come at the same time. Tip for future traveler; order your plates and just enjoy them , in the order they come. You have no control. Expect the train to be late or take longer than scheduled and rejoice when it doesn't. 

Also, if the restaurant or car rental store says it will be open or advertises a product, don't hold your breath, it may not... yet... a little later.... they will. 

The plaguing question is why?

My humble opinion is simply that Italians are creative and passionate. In creativity and passion there is little credence for time.  The strength of the Italian culture breeds this mindset and thus, cutting edge fashion, ultimate cars, and world renowned artists flourish.  The weak side is poor service and the lack of value for time management. Type A's feel frustration and a loss of control.  It is not a disrespect although it is perceived as such. 

I must say, Randy, Hannah and I now just laugh and wait for the serendipitous and amusedly watch new tourists working this out. 

Cycling along the Arno

 Cycling can be dangerous, or fun, or both, depending on where in Florence you bike. It started off a little "sketchy" as we biked through the streets of Florence from piazza Santa Croce. Dodging cars, motorcycles, people and other bikes proved stressful, but as we progressed further from the historic centre, it got easier. The best part was Cascine Park, stretching several kilometers along the Arno river. See the attached video.

Funny T-shirt spotted today near San Lorenzo market:

IN HEAVEN

The policemen are English,

The cooks are French,

The bankers are Swiss,

The dancers are Spanish,

The lovers are Italian,

And it is all organized by the Germans.

IN HELL

The policemen are French,

The cooks are English,

The bankers are Spanish,

The dancers are Swiss,

The lovers are German,

And it is all organized by the Italians.

Hockey in Italy

Waiting at a train station the other day, I was perusing a discarded newspaper, La Nazione, and came across the 7 page sports section. I found no news on the Canucks. Thank goodness for the internet. Go Canucks go. Beat the Hawks! Anyway, I'm sure you won't be surprised by the contents. The first five pages had soccer. The next page had cycling and Moto GP. The last page was dedicated to Formula 1. There you go sports fans. Now you know what Italians are into. I miss hockey and am in need of a fix. By the way, hockey is unknown in Italy.

Lucca - circles and ovals

A 2 hour train ride to Lucca was worth the effort. Hannah's friend Christina and her Dad (our friend Brad), are visiting us for a week, and came along. Lucca was full of surprises - a canal bisecting the town (it reminded me of Bruges, Belgium), completely intact fortified walls - 4 km long circling the town, ornate and delicate romanesque church facades, pedestrian friendly - narrow streets, clock and palazzo towers, welcoming parks, handsome piazzas and not too many tourists. Lucca, established by the romans in 89 BC, still shows some of its ancient past in the remnants of its amphitheatre, forum and two main streets.

The two highlights for me were cycling and exploring the piazzas. We rented bikes and rode on the tree-lined ramparts encircling Lucca. It was windy and at times rainy, but we didn't care. Fun can sometimes be enhanced when gusts and deluge are involved. 

My favourite plaza was piazza dell' Anfiteatro. This colourful, oval piazza retains the shape and some of the walls of the ancient amphitheatre on which it is built. Kids were kicking a soccer ball, shops and cafes spilled out from the buildings and people pivoted, doing 360's to take in the ovalesque view. This pivoting is probably not unlike some of the gladiator moves, some 2000 years ago.

Back on the train for Firenze we all felt like Lucca is a place beckoning further exploration. I certainly hope to return someday to this "bella" tuscan town.

The Night of Firenze

No travel log is complete, nor accurate without a reflection on the city's struggles. Every city without fail , because it is inhabited by humanity, has flaws and an undercurrent of darkness. The only difference for us as visitors, is we candidly observe without responsibility except for the issue of dog owners not picking up their dog's poop , and then it becomes personally messy and frustrating.

 But, I would go so far as to say we enjoy watching some of the street games because we don't know all the rules of engagement. Let me explain. It is against the law to sell or purchase Fakes; designer watches, purses, sunglasses and art work posters. Italy is also challenged with a flood of illegal immigration from northern Africa. Combine the two and you have young guys hocking wares on the streets, illegally, trying to make a new life for themselves and most likely for their families in Africa. We have dubbed them The Entrepreneurs.

They play a game with the carbinieri which is brilliant and marvelous to watch.

Working as a team, a spotter will spy the police  approaching.....  and then their illegal wares are completely wrapped up and they are gone in seconds. This is no exaggeration. The sunglasses are attached to card board that lays flat  atop  a V-shaped card board stand. Both pieces of cardboard are folded in half and gone, looking like an art portfolio. The "Gucci" purses are all on a bed sheet that is swooped and gone, looking like Santa's sack. The art posters are laid slightly overlapping so they can be fanned closed with the ease of a deck of cards and magically gone.... Depending on the cops' actions, whether they just park and sit in their car staring , stand at a distance,or take chase, the entrepreneurs either run into dark, narrow streets or just stand behind a column and stare back. It is the  classic cat and mouse, cops and robbers,with a very rare confrontation or take down. But when they do- move over Bond chases!

Another interesting play on the streets, are the gypsy  begging women. Long full skirts, sweaters, scarves and open toed sandals, always with brightly striped socks.  We have witnessed turf wars between the women themselves, passed one scurrying by on her way to work , to where later when we see her, she is crippled. Another instance saw  a kind Italian man buying Cinderella shoes for a little girl pictured, held in the  hand of a beggar woman.He took the gyspy woman into the Disney store , paid for the shoes and left, leaving the woman marvelling at her treasure. You could see in her eye, living the imminent joy that would be on her little girl's face. But also be  careful where you walk ,for sometimes these women are laying prostrate on the sidewalk. I know for I have almost tripped flat over one. They work the tourist filled piazzas hard from early morning to early evening.

These night shades of  Firenze  brighten other dazzling stars that also demand attention. The musicans fill the loggias, piazzas, bridges and cobblestones with their opera and pop, guitar, flute, accordian and  stringed quartets, making the evening walks lyrical and always enchanting. (I want to dance but an unnamed teen would rather die!) 

Chalk artists painstakingly copy masterpieces  on the pavers to do another the next day after the street cleaners washed thru. 

The uplit bridges, towers and cupolas  serve as the planets that are bright and solid beacons of hope and history, which move humanity forward.

Stones Piled Together

Once again, Randy and I, and this time Hannah too, headed out of tourist infested Florence into the Tuscan countryside. We left for the day to visit a few hilltowns, driving a zippy Punto! The day was about the journey, not the destination, though the two hilltowns were spectacular. Randy drove, Hannah learned to navigate and I lounged in the back. My story that I am sticking with is; Hannah needed the front seat so she could take pictures and not get car sick. 

Our first stop was Monteriggioni, “Italy’s Most Perfectly Preserved Fortified Town”. This little town, near Siena was Dante’s inspiration for his description of the “circle of titans guarding the lowest level of Hell.”  It still has all 14 square towers of its fully intact 13th C. circular medieval walls. Monteriggioni is so tiny with it's two streets and one main piazza and seemed more like heaven than hell. Delightfully picturesque. It is along the Francigena Pilgrimage Path from Cantebury to Roma. (Insert Here; idea seeds for next trip!)

 We continued on our merry way to Volterra, another hilltop Tuscan town perched high, between two valleys, with its own unique flavour. Volterra is known for alabaster, one of my favourite stones. It is like the agate, opaque, translucent to light, in varying colours. The church windows were done in alabaster. Shops were filled with all sorts of Alabaster creations. 

Volterra  was an Estruscan settlement from  the 9th C BC., a town bigger than what exists today. All that remains today of that era are one city gate, funery urns and  tombs. The Romans conquered the Etruscans and left their mark. Ruins of an amphitheater were amazing to see, peering down over the edge of town. Randy, our ever present historian pointed out that we, standing there today, are closer in time to the period of the Renaissance (and the Medici fort built at one end of town) than the Romans were to the founding of Volterra, during the Estrucan period of time. 

It is thoughts like these that befuddle my brain and again affirm the tension of embracing fully this thing called life. Our lifespan, that is but a mere hairbreadth in time. Humbling. 

In WW2, the townspeople banded together to protect the Estruscan gate, their town symbol, made of large tufa stones, from being bombed by the Germans. They ripped up the cobbles from the main street and plugged it. Their plan succeeded.

I guess it is these stories of history that enrich and make these stones piled together, called walls and towns, come alive for me. My imagination is wild, and together with Randy, have woven imagined tales of intrigue, deception and heroism! 

 The undulating, weaving drive home did not disappoint any of us. The journey brought more pullout vista points to photograph and drink in. A question posed in the Punto was,” what makes Tuscany so appealing?”

The agreement was the lolling hills, with patched patterns of symmetrical groves and linear vineyards, and scattered seeds of beckoning homesteads, saying “Come.” The springtime countryside is fresh green, the colour of growth, opportunity and hope.The hills are not impenetrable and daunting like the majestic mountains in BC, nor are they dark and mysterious like the ocean. The tuscan geography wants to share, give and do life with any who are like-minded.

  

Camping in Florence

At the mid-point in our "time out in Tuscany," I feel relaxed and content. We are never bored, but the pace is definitely slow. This week we meandered around Florence. Outside the old City walls, we climbed up to the view terrace, piazzale Michelangelo. Everyone always looks north west from the piazzale to the "Classic" view of Florence - the Duomo and historic centre. I decided to go away from the crowds to the other end of the terrace and look eastward, up the Arno. The view of the campground that David Tyrell and I tented at in 1982 came into full view (see photo). I had almost forgot about this place. We never experienced the campground with the spring blossoms. It brought back fond memories of the very first time I visited Florence. Two graduate architects, photographing and sketching many of the buildings we had seen in pictures. One thing I do know is that a comfortable bed with the woman I love is waaaaaay better than a sleeping bag, in a tent, on hardened earth. Sorry, Dave....... Sandy and I are having the time of our lives here and savouring every moment.  

Happy Easter - Buona Pasqua

Returning from the Chianti countryside to Florence is akin to crawling out from under your warm comfy patchwork down quilt that enveloped you in your private, quiet bedroom and opening your door straight into a cold, shopping street on Christmas Eve. Easter in Florence is one of the busiest weekends, if not the busiest, of the entire year. The city is flooded with  Catholics on  pilgrimage, foreign students and Italian families gathering.

 Randy, Hannah and I have been looking forward to this weekend before we left Canada and we were not disappointed  in the least. This Easter weekend will be a highlight moment for the rest of our lives. We were grateful to have Rachael with us. I must certainly add  family is the ingredient missing, especially Luke, but we are gifted in having Boots, Betty and Jess here to share it with us. To capture the weekend  we will give a day to day breakdown  and watch the video.....

Good Friday dawned in brilliant sun. The Episcopalian church was doing a "Nine Stations of the Cross" walk through the historic centre of Florence, so Randy and I thought that would be cool.  Upon arrival at the church we discovered that the walk would be back in our neighborhood so I called the girls and told them to meet us in a piazza.  What we would soon discover is that the walk included individuals in the group carrying a cross as we walked through the streets packed with thousands of people. There were 8 people in the group, including some older women in dresses and heels. You do the math and think about Randy and I... It was inevitable we would have to carry the cross. My personal conflict of emotion inside was stunning and shocking. I was embarassed to be seen with a rag tag group of Protestants, angry and chagrined at self, internally confronting myself to step up and identify  publicly with Jesus yet trying to remain unseen.  It was  a shadow of the original Good Friday for the disciples and not even on the radar screen compared to Jesus' humiliation. Randy, being the largest and healthiest of all, carried it across town into the piazza where we met the girls. Imagine the shock that was on their faces as Randy lead the group into the main piazza.  The throngs of people were staring or indifferent, carrying on and making comments about Randy as "a blonde Jesus."  Hannah and I also carried the cross through sections of town. She now has a bruised shoulder. It was a healthy, sobering and powerful exercise. Would you carry the cross?

Saturday

We spent the day shopping and preparing for Sunday dinner. 

Easter Sunday What was the main reason we looked forward to Easter in Florence? Easter Sunday morning was the annual "Scoppio del Carro." Explosion of the cart. Hannah and I arrived in Piazza del Duomo around 8:30am and the fireworks didn't happen till 11:15am. Sandy joined us on the edge of the barricade after we had been there an hour and the place was already ringed with thousands of people. Like everyone else, we stood the whole time like vertical sardines waiting and watching. Around 10:30am a parade of multi-coloured "renaissance" costumed flag bearers, drummers, trumpeters, crossbow and spear carriers marched into the piazza. The festive procession was followed by 4 white oxen pulling an enormous cart, full of fireworks. See attached video. The explosion and light show were worth the wait. Loud and bright. What an unusual Easter tradition.

Our Easter dinner was next and is never complete without including someone who is without their  family or friends so our table was graced with a young art student, Laura, from  Maine USA.

Randy and I incorporated some Italian Easter traditions at the beginning and end of the meal. Our  first course was boiled eggs (new life), and spinach (the bitter herbs of the Passover). For dessert we enjoyed big, glorious chocolate eggs with prizes inside and Colomba (dove shaped Easter bread that is the Italian version of paska).

The day ended in the wee early morning with an iChat  at the Johnson clan dinner. 

Buona Pasqua!

Fresh Air

Sometimes the journey is as much as the destination itself and sometimes more. Randy/Mr.GPS must have read my blog last week or he is really really good at keeping secrets! He cut me off at the pass  and  had plenty of air in the car because it was a convertible and he let me drive the most! For extra mileage it was the modern model of my dream car..... Randy had us cruising  Chianti in a red, Alfa Romeo Spider. The sun was shining, the roads were undulating and seductively curvaceous. Romeo, (so I named the car) was so happy to be out of Firenze's car rental parking garage, that he performed outstandingly!  Randy and I shared the delight of being in control of the wheel, but believe me, my grin was bigger this time, which made my cheeks ache. My biceps definitely got a workout from  going hard into the 'S' turns! Quintessentially perfect days in every conceivable way! Getting out of the city into the fresh awakening of the countryside was invigorating and affirming to us. The roads were empty so we pushed Romeo a little, all the while, taking in the smells of the budding wisteria, the tall stately cypresses scenting the air and the fresh grasses bursting out of their dormancy and announcing aromatically how great it is to be alive and growing!

Montepulciano was still quiet with visitors, so when we walked home from dinner in the evenings - the streets were empty except for the echo of our rhythmic footsteps. As much as we loved the getaway, we knew we had made the right choice to live in Firenze instead of the countryside for the the 3 of us.

Montepulciano

Rachael and Hannah took off from Florence for two days on their own.
We were a little nervous, but knew they could do it together. They took the train to Venice and we were alone in Tuscany.
Sandy and I took advantage of this by renting a car and taking off in the other direction, south through the Chianti region of Tuscany. We ended up staying two nights in Montepulciano, a picturesque hill town surrounded by sangiovese  vineyards and olive groves. While walking the steep, narrow streets, we came across a workshop with a 73 year old craftsman that makes copper pots and kitchen utensils. Striking up a lively conversation with him, we found out his name, Cesare Mazzetti,.... we communicated with a lot of entertaining hand gestures. He couldn't speak english and we barely speak a few words of Italian. After discovering that we were celebrating our 25th (venti-cinque) wedding anniversary, he started working a copper disk with tools and a hammer, punching in our wedding date, our initials, our childrens initials, hearts, other decorations and punched a hole at the top so we could hang it at home. We laughed together and he kept calling Sandy a "tigre," a tiger, because she looked too young to be married 25 years and Cesare told her to have more kids. Three is not enough, "Quattro" is better. He asked Sandy if I, as her husband was a "maiale" or a "gallo" (pig or a rooster). I don't see myself as either, but fortunately Sandy said a "gallo." You can check out his "Bottega del Rame" at www.rameria.com.

Siena

Mr.Wikipedia/ GPS -boy delighted Rachael's  three Capernwray friends by not only giving them a thorough tour of Florence but he also escorted them to  the perfectly maintained medieval town of Siena the next day and then prepared them for their upcoming visit in Venice.  

 For us, it was great to have them, as we got another glimpse into Rachael's experience in Spain and were able to provide them with a taste of  family. Rachael is now with us for a short time between commitments. She is the spicy salsa of our little family, bringing variety and a delightfully chaotic loudness to the table.

 As for Siena, for Randy and I, we focused on  my Art History and  an art show called Genius and Madness; featuring artists such as Van Gogh and others who went mad but still had "genius art". My only comment after recovering from the depressive, hopeless and physically nauseating display of art (except Van Gogh's) is, I am glad they make a really good truffle and beef carpaccio pizza in Siena that could be enjoyed on the fabulous Piazza del Campo in the warmth of the spring sun. Hope in mankind was once again restored.  

Today is Palm Sunday. The day Christendom celebrates Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem on a donkey with the crowds waving Palm branches before him. But again , the Florentines can't do it like everyone else in the world - with Palm Branches. They have their own branches, olive branches. Who Knew? So today saw lots of people wandering the streets carrying olive branches. 

Cool thought though when you think about it. Randy and I, as we walked our 20 minutes back from our little Epsicopalian service in the morning reveled in this.

Palm branches are waved before and over royalty. And Jesus is the Ultimate Royalty.

 Yet Olive branches signify peace, a treaty, a hope often associated with the dove of Noah's Ark, (and the dove  is also symbolic of the Holy Spirit). When a royal king in biblical times, wanted to come to make peace, he would come riding in, not on a regal steed, but a donkey. So it is perfectly fitting that we waved olive branches today, Palm Sunday, because Jesus is Peace or Pace` in Italian.

Coming this week.... Chianti road trip ... Oh yeah!   Mr. GPS is driving, so the female who still struggles with her left and right will be The Navigator... Can  you feel the air being sucked out of the car already? Hopefully it will be a convertible!

Contrasts in Rome

We recently returned from 3 days in Roma. This is now the third time I have been there and I am amazed at how each experience has been remarkably different. Even when viewing the same things.

Evidence of ancient Rome, The Rome of the Caesars' is everywhere. You turn your head at a street corner, and a thick, massive ancient brick wall protrudes out into the street from the edge of a building. There is even a church (still in use today) that is built within a vast Roman bathhouse from the time of Emperor Diocletian. The heart of Rome is "The Forum." Sandy, Hannah, Rachael (who joined us from Spain) and I meandered through the Colosseum, the  Palatine Hill (the hill overlooking the Forum that was the residence of the Caesars), and the area of the Forum (the political, religious and economic centre of Rome). Several things stood out to me as we walked around; the absolute power, wealth and monumentality of the Roman Empire contrasting the small, weak and humble existence of those conquered or imprisoned. The monumental is seen in the expansive palace built on Palatine Hill for Caesar Augustus. It was much, much larger than the White House or 24 Sussex Drive, or even Buckingham Palace. Compare this with the imprisoned, who were chained up in the Mamertime prison, located at the other end of the Forum from Caesar's palace. Here, prisoners were lowered in through a hole in the ceiling, their only source of air. The cistern-like room, hewn out of rock, was small, and dark. No toilet, no bed, just cold and damp. This was the prison for high profile prisoners like defeated foreign commanders, who were kept here until they were publicly executed. Tradition says that this is where St. Peter and St. Paul were kept immediately before their martyrdoms.

Now to a lighter note. Gelato. Hannah discovered "biscotti" flavoured gelato near Piazza Navona. It was sooooo good that we had to return on a rainy day for seconds. Another favourite was "coco" (coconut), from Old Bridge gelateria, a place near the Vatican recommended by friends. We are becoming connoisseurs of gelati. I can tell because for some reason my pants are tighter. Boy, do I need a gym workout.

Organized Religion

Organized religion. Two words that cause intense emotional response, re-surface past memories both wonderful or damaging. To some readers,  this will pique your curiosity and to others 'organized religion' are enough to make you logout and shudder. Please read me out.

Randy and I have written little about our organized religious experiences here in Florence, not out of shame nor neglect, but out of an ongoing processing within our journey. 

 Our first experience on a sunday night was spent in a freezing cold chiesa. It was  a  glimpse of what heaven will be like. We were greeted by a Finnish woman who was married to the Italian pastor who lead worship on his acoustic guitar. Our guest preacher was  a young Ethiopian man and the testimony was from a young Ukrainian woman. There was a verbal ad for Christian artists presented by a Russian and an American. The rest of the congregation was 3 darling Canadians, 2 fun Nigerians and the rest were mainly  young female  University students mainly of USA heritage. Half of our time was spent singing well known happy choruses. Does it matter if we sang  the Christmas song" Go Tell it on the Mountain " for the offertory?

 Our next sunday was in an Espiscopalian service ( condensed with no hymns for time management of two services) . The rector  is an eloquent orator, thoughtful woman, who stretched our thinking in an intellectual way. The congregation  we have met is mostly retired professors, former art historians or  professionals currently working in Florence.

Another chiesa (church)  we have been visiting regularly is a small church on a main shopping street that proffers organ concerts  or hosts traveling chamber choirs or string quartets  in the evenings. 

 Lat night we went to the Duomo, Santa Maria Del Fiore for a Catholic Mass - the fifth sunday of Lent. So  while feeling very small, in but a side chapel of the massive church, as  people were climbing and chattering in the dome overhead, we heard the Scriptures read and confession was available on the side. It felt monotone, detached and rote. Was it the size of the room or just not knowing protocol or was Someone missing?

Yet while we participate in this organized religion of today we are constantly exposed through our jaunts and visits of organized religions of yesteryear. 

One that was quite incredible was the Certosa Monastery, on the edge of Florence. A rich noble man built himself a house, Ok, a palace, and then attached a monastery and chiesa in the 14C. It housed 18 hermit contemplative monks around a beautiful cloister. These men only came out of their cells on sunday for one meal and on feast days. Each cell had a bedroom, a main prayer room and a garden to tend, with spectacular views out to the glowing Tuscan hills of olive groves, vineyards, orchards and homes. They were taken care of by other 'brothers'. Even as they are buried they are without any markings as to who,what or when they were. Another monastic life we met was through the Badia  Fiorentina. It is a group of people committed to renting in the downtown core of Florence( so they are not tied to materialism),  they squeek out a living so they can practically love the marginalized people; the homeless, the beggars and those who just need a friend to care. They are living not to be set apart but to make a difference. 

It is another Sunday night, and we are trying to make sense of all this religion,  to organize it  and put it in its place. But we  can't and we decided we won't- Jesus loves us each so uniquely - it is a mystery. It is not about us.

Some  find space in the liturgical service to spiritually ponder  and grow, while others find the free form of worship more their style to find the space where they can meet Jesus. And yet others believe they are called to not really exist in relationship with  other people but just with God.

Organized religion is not really   organized; It is merely man's attempts to put God in a box, to reign Him, in so we can grasp His mystery. So at the end of this day, in the mystery I find a cohesive thread to it all. God, since before time began, is the Author of this mystery. Seemingly unrelated events and people, including you and me, are part of  an intricate   story of love and rejection, deceit and innocence and ultimate Redemption. 

 

Bells and bread by the kilo

Manly yes , but I like them too. His socks that is - though now it is hard to tell the difference between his and mine. 

 The seasons fashions here are changing. Not being a shoe or purse fanatic like some friends I have, I procrastinated and missed out on  the "can-they-really be-leather-at-that-price"winter sales of all the black and brown boots. They have been replaced by the tan, white and puce colored boots of spring. (  Yes, Puce is a color. It is between brown ,grey with purple and greenish tinges.) Anyway....

We had the delight of having some friends visit from Tsawwassen! Although the weather was miserable , struggling to snow, with a few flakes here and there, it finally broke sun and it we had a great time. A highlight was going up Giotto's Tower, 413 steps, right next to the Duomo. We were right under the behemoth bells as they tolled. Being right under them as they peeled , they seemed aggressive, angry and agitatedly strong- not that gentle reminder of call to pray or to let you know what time it is or the constant friendly reminder of how great Florence is when you are far below. They reverberated right through our bodies like we were a wisp of smoke in the air. I was taken aback but I loved it! Who needs vibration therapy? Maybe a hearing aid :)....

We are now  one quarter of the way through our time here. I am measuring time by how many bottles of sumptuous thick olive oil we have been through, our neighbor's full cycle of laundry color and that our peanut butter jar from home is almost empty. As we continue on this journey I still find things weird. Not in a negative way but just weird.

 How much bread do I want? Well, a loaf, a baguette would be great!... not so?!?!... how many kilos of bread? do you want salted or unsalted? The loaves are gi-nornous! They dominate the patisicceria! If I didn't know better they rival the size of the bells in Giotto's Tower. The friendly man who is always three feet higher than me and looking down from his perch and over the wall of bread, asks" how much?" I mutter something that sounds like" mezza-kilo" or due grame ( 200 grams). He just cuts a slab from the large loaf  and I  come away grateful for whatever it is he  gave me...

 And now eggs. Each one has it's own id #. O.K. that is  kinda cool, but why do they sell them in 4's and 10's and my  egg rack in the fridge holds 9? 

 My favourite  market is like a  Granville Island, it is Mercado Centrale. Individual vendors selling their meat, cheese, wines or produce or touristy tasty wares. I have found a few vendors I am trying to build a relationship with. They tolerate and help my Italian language butcherings! The discovery of  fun and fabulous new condiments for us to adorn our pastas and breads always makes the shopping a little like living on the edge. Tartufo balsamic vinegar crema for example. As for edgy eating, the market has its share of the whole chickens with their little heads cocked to the side, pigs' heads, cows tongues, intestines, hooves and yesterday we saw friendly Clara the Cow's nose. I just don't know....

 

Man socks

I needed to buy some black socks, because two pairs that I brought with me were wearing out. Not sure if it is all the walking we are doing? You can imagine how excited I was when I found "Made in Italy" cotton socks at the outdoor market In Cascine Park, along the Arno river. I bought a package of four for only 7-1/2 euro, about $13. When I got home and looked at them closely, I started laughing and getting mad at myself. They were the right size, the right colour, but they were thin like panty hose, when stretched out over my foot. I call them "woman" socks, not man socks. Ridiculous...... Needless to say, today I am wearing two pairs on each foot, so you can't actually see skin through my socks. 

Private Bits

Well, I finally signed up for an art class at Accademia D'Arte. I showed up for drawing class and my first assignment was to sketch a model, not a miniature kind of model, but a human being. A male figure,....... a model with no clothes on. It was a little weird, but at least he covered himself up with his hands. Not like all the statues around Florence with full exposure. These manly sculptures have their hands in all sorts of poses like a fist in the air, or a hand on a sword, but none of them cover up their private bits. 

My next sketch was less daring. I stuck to my tried and true subject,..... architecture. It is a view of the Duomo - Brunelleschi's dome and Giotto's campanile (belltower).

We just got a phone call from friends, Ray and Stef Tetzel. They are in Florence with their kids for a few days. So, I'll have to sign off, as we are walking out the door to go meet them at Piazza Santa Trinita. Ciao.

Afraid to be like Francesco Bernardone

The other day Sandy, Hannah and I took a long 2 hour bus ride to Umbria, the province just to the east of Tuscany. We visited the pretty little hilltown, with pink and cream stone buildings, of Assisi. You may have guessed by now that Francesco is known to us as St. Francis. Yes, he's the guy who started the monastic community of Franciscans. They are the monks who wear sandals and brown tunics with ropes tied around their waists.

I hope you don't mind a little history lesson about Francesco Bernardone. The story begins eight hundred years ago. He was a privileged young man whose father was a wealthy cloth merchant. Francesco had a few negative experiences in his life and as a young man was searching for something more. The culture at that time was centered around the church. Everyone in the community participated in church life whether they believed in their hearts or not. It was the thing to do. God spoke to him in 1206 AD, at the age of 24 (don't know if it was audible or in his heart). From that point on he decided to live as Jesus did, literally. His conversion started a process where he became totally devoted to following Jesus, and lived simply with few possessions. He gave everything away, and focused on sharing the good news to all, caring for the poor and loving all, whether friend or enemy. 

 He preached using the local language, so people could more easily understand the Bible, rather than in Latin. He created the manger scene, which was useful to explain the Christmas message to an illiterate population. He preached outside, not just in elaborate churches, pointing to God's creatures and His creation as examples of God's love and blessing. In short, he came up with ways to share the good news of Jesus in understandable ways. Most of all, he lived what he preached.

He inspired many to follow him and so at the age of 40 (1220 AD), five years before he died, a community was started dedicated to following the way Francesco lived. We know these brothers as Franciscans. They have gone around the world since then and shared the good news of Jesus to many. If you are from California, you probably know that many of the missions (which eventually became towns and cities) were established by Franciscans. And of course, we all know about the City of San Francisco (St. Francis in english).

It is amazing what he did as a mere man in 20 years of commitment to God. He changed the world around him.

I ask  myself  the question after seeing what someone like Francesco did, "How can my life make a difference in the world around me?

Socks and Saints

How does one know if they or the loved  ones they are traveling with are relaxing and unwinding all the stressors they knowingly and unknowingly carry? Well, I cannot speak for others, but yesterday  when I asked Randy what time is was as I watched him put on his socks  for the day , he said with his big grin, "2:10 pm! "  His socks were off by 9! He is relaxed.

Today is Sabato. (Saturday)To counteract gelato frenzies and inhalation of crusty breads at every meal, I hauled Hannah with me on a power walk this morning. We are already noticing the influx of more people on the weekends, longer lineups, more street artists and general more pedestrian traffic.

 Tomorrow is Domenica. (Sunday-  ok this is personal  orientation to day and time!) we are heading off on a ROAD TRIP to Assisi! Therefore to be well informed  travelers once again, the ever ready Wiki/Sherlock found us, a deal of a bus trip that includes lunch and the pleasurable company of a local english episcopalian  church group! And did I mention they were even showing the Franco Zefferlli 1972 musical classic 122 minute , "Brother sun Sister moon" to inform us even further. It was showing @ 4pm.

It was the highlight of the day thus far!

We checked it out online before we went on website called Rotten Tomatoes. Not that this creates any foreshadows or preconceived notions, but let's just say Hannah was less than excited. The trailer and soundtrack by Donovan are the quintessential '72 kitch. Nevertheless,in the hope of creating a memory, we walked across town to the beautiful stone St. James Episocopalian church and were let in by a proper and kind elderly woman named Marion. She led us to the "circa 1970" church basement  through a side door, where we were immediately greeted by a handful of retirees.

" You drop the age by a hundred Mom, "whispered Hannah.  ( this was significant and meaningful as this is part of my birthday celebration~ more on that later!)

After a warm and friendly chit chat and a good strong Italian espresso, we all made our way into the theater. There it was, the 21 inch TV in the children's Sunday School class. It was a time warp back to my early childhood. We increased the group significantly so we brought in our own grey plastic chairs and sat at the back...right by the door... just in case we needed to leave for some dire emergency.  

So there we were in the dark corner of a church viewing a TV with 12 retirees and one mid-30 aged woman. One gregarious gentleman with twinkling eyes and a ruddy face, could not for the life of him get the machine, nor the remote, to work. The woman pastor asked ,"Can ANY one help, especially if they were of a younger generation.Will any one to admit to that scale?!"as  her eyes bore down on Hannah who was squirming and looking like a ferret backed into the corner, desperate for an escape. Her eyes turned pleadingly to Randy as he is encouraging her to go. Mother, caught in the middle and sensing  Hannah's panic, had to jump and save her youngest, " Randy! At least go with her!"  Mother frantically whispered. So he moves to the front to see if he can get the VCR working . Hannah stayed firmly planted. Yes I said VCR, meaning VHS . Randy as Wiki/ Sherlocky and brilliant as he is - the technical stuff is not his forte- this why we have a luke and hannah. he can and does fiddle around and somehow it works eventually.

 So I lose it in  gut wrenching laughter. I now am shaking uncontrollably with Hannah chastising me. It cannot get any more insane than this moment. The website gave the movie a 5.7/10. It was already at a 7 for me and the movie wasn't even working yet. 

 Randy ,  the ever -noble man came to the rescue of all the elderly and damsels in the room. My modern day David. larger than life was valiant once more. He saved the day and  the movie played, albeit with the color darkening in and out. 

 We learned something about St. Francis today. He turned his back on all his wealth and upbringing to live a simple life of poverty, chastity and charity. And as Alec Guiness who played

the Pope said, after being rebuked by St. Francis," Sometimes we  get too focused on the original sin that we forget the original innocence."

 May we never forget the innocence nor first love.

Florentine fresco of Shier

       

Soooo... do we chat about tonight's organ concert, today's visit to the stunning hilltop town of San Gimignano; or the lecture we attended at the quintessential and stuffy British Institute of Studies on an obscure specific fresco cycle here in Florence last night; or the quick trip to Fiesole, a town on the edge of Florence; or how I retardedly vacuum the apartment?
Let's start with vacuuming because we all relate to that! Imagine vacuuming Persian carpets and marble floors of an 1000 sq. ft. apartment with only the skinny-edge-vacuum  attachment. That is how they do it! No lie! OK so how I did it, and  how I saw another guy doing it today! I have no broom head or power head - just the little 3 inch skinny head opening. You know the one that you use, albeit rarely, in the sides of the couch. The dust bunnies are huge here in just a week. If I left them longer they would be Duomo- size! We have got to let them know who is the boss! Me !?!?
Ignoring the bunnies, yesterday we got on a public bus and took a 20 minute ride to the outskirts of Florence to have a commanding view of the valley and all Florence. It is such a weird thought that this small town was a power house before the time of Christ... in the Etruscan period..I just have no measurement for these kinds of thoughts. You and we don't even rate on the time scale.... hmmm... a small glimpse into God's timeline of humanity... again!
As for the lecture, well all I will say is, any cliche thought you have about " British" we experienced it last night! Overstocked library- floor to ceiling of old books,with papers and books piled wherever they could find an inch; heavily gilded, red velvet chairs; the "proper" accent flooding the stale air with posits and theories of retirees and you were with us in the library, listening to the lecture of a fresco cycle of paintings that are uncommon to the common tourist.
Curious how we ended up there? Thanks for asking. Randy the Walking Wiki, and human GPS is also a contemporary Sherlock and found a Florentine Newspaper for the English speaking!
Now San Gimignano, although it is touristy was a breath of fresh air. It is a hilltop town with 14 towers that is still very well preserved from the medieval times. Hannah and I climbed to the tallest tower and saw for the first time the beautiful patchwork of the Tuscan countryside. Labourers are busy prepping the straight lined vineyards, pruning the olive orchards and the almond flowers are struggling to break bud. It was  also a special day in SG- the Santa Fina Day- she is their patron saint. It was market day with extras! In the SG Duomo the light flooded from the clerestory windows casting distinct rays of heaven inside! There is a mystery to God and His beauty and we were privileged to get a glimpse.
Thanks for  being a part of our  brief but bright lives!  We love  hearing from YOU!

Now that we are seasoned veterans of Firenze.....of one week....here are some of our observations about our life.... The Duomo (the 4th largest church in Europe) is visible from almost anywhere and provides easy orientation for finding our way around. The other clues that Randy uses are the hills of Fiesole to the north and the shadows from the sun with the time of day so he knows which compass direction we are heading. With these observations, Randy, is now affectionately known as Sandy's personal GPS. He has a Firenze library card from the Della Oblate across the street. So we can add another name to him, the "Walking Wikipedia". He had to get the library card in order to access the internet on his laptop. They have wireless and the plug in ethernet is not working on his laptop in our apartment. (I'm sure Jon could figure it out)
In a regular Italian drip style coffee maker - they don't use filters and you can't buy them... so we make them out of napkins. Either that or our cups are full of fine grounds and our coffee is thick. Randy did buy an authentic espresso maker (like a mini stove top percolator) and is making strong italian espresso for erasing the cobwebs in the morning.
Our bathroom has heated towel bars, a bidet and curved french doors on the shower. It also has a door to a patio that can open from the side or the top for venting.
Electricity is expensive here yet they still have to have adapters for their own Italian appliances because they come with different sizes of plugs.
Living fully, we are inundated with smells both good and bad; the water has an odourous bleach yet sulphuric stench; leather, espresso, cigarette smoke, sewer, car fumes, fresh pasticcerias , baked bread, waffles and pizza.
Sandy continues to make fine tuscan cuisine from ingredients bought at the market - beef stew, spaghetti, focaccia sandwiches all enjoyed with aqua frizzante (sparkling water) and vino rosso.
Some are wondering why we chose Italy and why Florence? Here are some reasons as to why Italy: after half a dozen trips to Europe, Italy is our favourite country. We love the food, climate, culture, coffee, architecture, art, landscape, gelato and people. Besides that, it was Hannah's first choice. Why Firenze? It is a small city. Bigger than Kelowna, but much smaller than Vancouver. You can walk everywhere easily. It has a good airport and train station for italian excursions and is centrally located between Rome, Milan and Venice. Plus it is the home of renaissance art and architecture (Dante, Michaelangelo, Da Vinci, Machiavelli, Brunelleschi, all lived here). And it is in the centre of Tuscany with picturesque rolling hills, cypress trees, vineyards, olive groves - an idyllic landscape.
Although it has only been one week, we are quite settled in to our new short term home 100 meters from the Duomo on via dell' Oriuolo.

Markets and Monks

So I  previously mentioned how shopping brings out my insecurities and makes me sweat. Now I can add to the list- make Randy and Hannah laugh at me. 

 we went to the open air fruit and vegetable market with all the individual farmers selling their produce on tables. With Randy and Hannah allowing me the honor of selecting and interacting, I boldly went where I cower- to interact in Italian. From somewhere outside of me a voice that soundly strangely a lot like mine, greeted the vendor with, " Beunos Dias!" Immediately I think,"Who is the idiot speaking Spanish in Italy?!?!" Randy always known for his intelligence and quick wit was fast to affirm that it was indeed I, who was the idiot! In sheer embarrassment I don't know who wanted the earth to open up  and eat them faster- Hannah or I! So to make full  amends and redeem myself, as soon as I had my change I said," Gracias!" and fled, my face glowing like a pomodoro. It reminds of a friend who while visiting in Quebec ordered at the McDonald's "Deux McMuffin per favor."

It can only go up from here. And yesterday we did. Hannah and Randy climbed the 463 steps to the top of the Duomo.( I did art history studies) .Hannah really enjoyed it as it was her first true view and sense of Florence.  

Later we went on a meandering yet planned walk up to San Miniato al Monte, passing Galileo's house. San Miniato is a church built in 1018, that has a commanding hilltop view of the city of Florence with a functioning Benedictine monastery.  We had the serendipitous delight of listening to the monks partake in their 5 pm Gregorian Chant and liturgy in the lower level of the  split level nave.  

 Daily living is gratifyingly simple yet complex ; Making coffee is an adventure every morning. There is no room to hoard a Costco size shop , nor have more than one little bag of garbage.  You can't buy a gallon of milk or a family pack of meat but you can get a 3l  bottle of wine and  a 5lb round of cheese......and in it all there is a freedom.PS our place is just beyond the red banner in the street photo.