The Library...

August 31st, 2008

I believe we have written a few times that we have visited our local library. Today is a good day to pay homage and to discuss it further.

It's a very nice library which appears to have been recently remodeled in probably the last 5 or so years. The outside is a building of strength and tradition while the inside is more modern with an inner steel cabled staircase that takes you up to the third floor (which is the main floor). The three flights up always cause me to break out in a good sweat, like exercising in a warm room. But, upon arrival to the top floor, all patrons are rewarded with an air conditioned environment.

It's a friendly place with computers, "televisione internazionale", copy machines, a nice children's section, large DVD and CD collections, places to sit and do homework, as well as a nice machine that one can buy espresso or other beverages. (Water is a real bargain at .30 Euro!) We have found a section of books in English and most of them are classics. This will provide us a good opportunity to catch up on all those classics we never read at some future date. Our favorite room is the newspaper and magazine room; it has chairs to sit and read and is brightly lit with natural light.

There are signs throughout the various areas to maintain our silence and if not, there is always a librarian to quickly shuuuush the offenders. I am often struck by the fact that it's also a place of trust. Each time we have gone, I have seen women's purses just sitting, half open on a table, or a laptop computer sitting alone for long periods of time; car and house keys are often left on tables. These sights always challenge me as I am the person who has her laptop cable locked to the frame of the pull out guest bed and makes sure that our doors are tripled locked each time we leave.

Within the vast quantities of magazines are two in English: Time and Newsweek. During each visit, we take turns reading and switching and when we run out, there are British newspapers. I always enjoying reading the British paper for their perspective, insight, and phraseology. There's also another small paper that is published infrequently; it's a paper for African Nationals which serves as a news-link but also a resource guide to living in Italy. The last edition went to great length about the new Italian laws that forbid and financially penalize Italians who rent to illegal immigrants. The article was in depth, serious, foreboding and left me feeling sad.

Then, there are ALL the wonderful cooking magazines and who needs to read the language when one can look at the pictures? Being that cooking is one of my favorite things to do (next to spending time with Kim, inserting acupuncture needles, gardening, traveling...)it just takes a good picture or series of "how to" pictures to keep me happily entertained. Before we know it, a few hours have flown by and we descend the staircase (which Kim says is only two floors) slowly acclimating to the warmer temperature preparing us for the outdoors. As we exit, we pass an office that we guess is where one goes to get a library card. To date, we have been too shy/intimidated/fill in the blank about going in and signing up for one. We keep saying that when we run out of books at home to read, we'll hit that classics section. We then begin our walk home. It's usually time for happy hour and for me to make dinner while watching Rex, the wonder dog.

Photographic Interlude...Cittadella

These pictures are examples of some of the exhibition rooms within the Cittadella for the series, "Shapes of Time".
The final picture is the setting of the performance that Kim wrote about....

The Performance

 

 

August 30th, 2008
A couple of weeks ago, following our visit to the Cinque Terre, I had confided to a few folks that I was questioning our choice of Alessandria for our year “sabbatical.” Citing the fact that I had never before lived anywhere “landlocked,” I bemoaned how much I missed being near water and why oh why didn’t we choose to live in a more beautiful place, preferably with an ocean view and lots of flowers? (While I was at it, I also should have whined about not having a villa…) Rachel pointed out my tendency to think the “grass is always greener” elsewhere and asked if I really would have wanted to be around so many tourists for half of the year and that there isn’t much else to do there except look at the ocean. I am nothing if not stubborn when I am in a “mood” so I didn’t respond, stayed disgruntled, made plans for a 3 day ocean visit in September and finally my 48 hour “bug” passed. I was once again happy to be here.

I’m a city girl at heart. The day after I graduated from high school my friend Jean and I moved to Boston- to get away not only from our parents but from what I felt was such a sterile, white and culturally barren environment. We may have been only an hour away from New York City but to me it may as well have been Ohio. So having lived in Boston and Seattle, and loving London, Paris, Rome and New York, did I really think I’d be happy spending a year in a small village by the water? Well yes and no- it is Italy after all and it’s not all that far by train to get to a big city…but I can get easily bored and I love art and architecture… so then you might ask why not Rome or Florence or Venice? 2 reasons I guess- high rents and tourists. In our sweet town of Alessandria we still have not heard anyone speaking English on the streets and even at museums and other “cultural events” no one speaks English- which is surprising on one hand (and only occasionally frustrating) but most delightful on the other. And in our fair city, there are museums and music festivals (such as the recently concluded every Thursday night Summer Blues festival) and some exceptional art exhibits. The number of bookstores will be the subject of another blog someday-obviously my other passion.

We are avid collectors of all the tourist brochures that Alessandria has to offer and one that we have admired all summer is the “Shapes of Time,” not because we can read the Italian (we can’t) but because it was so nicely done (see photo). As a matter of fact we have been so smitten with the brochure and with the billboard posters that we failed to pay attention to the fact that this extraordinary multi-site photography and video exhibition that opened in June was scheduled to end August 31st, THIS Sunday. (see www.biennalealessandria.it) In other words, we have been scrambling to see the Shapes of Time only in the nick of time. (No small feat as the hours have been limited, for example, Tues. and Thursdays only 16-19 or Friday- Sunday 16-19 or Sat and Sun. only 15-17.) And while in the last 10 weeks we have become much better at navigating the streets of Alessandria, we now know even more of the city from tracking down all the different exhibit spaces. These venues alone have been an architectural treat. (middle photo is the outside of one such space)

The photography and video installations have been extremely interesting, all with the broadly interpreted theme of time. Tonight we will return to the Cittadella (fist photo)to see the remainder of what we didn’t finish last night. We hadn’t intended to see the exhibit last night but the performance we had gone to see was delayed by an hour (interesting in and of itself- the delay, I mean, when a number of folks had arrived on time just to mill about in the dark parking lot with the haunted abandoned military buildings to keep them company). We opted to stroll the grounds and discovered the largest “Shapes of Time” exhibit thus far. (One that should have closed by 19 per the brochure but inexplicably, except to the Italians, was staying open til midnight). If only we had known what we would soon witness, we would have stayed where we were instead of hurrying back across the grounds to see “the performance.” But then we wouldn’t have seen the celebrity who was being honored prior to “il spectacolo.”

We should be embarrassed to admit this but we had never heard of Anton Corbijn, often referred to as the “fifth” member of U2, the director of all the U2 and Depeche Mode videos and photographer of both bands, photographer of all their big coffee table books, and probably a zillion other things. Not to mention we hadn’t even gotten to his photographs which were being exhibited in the space we had just wandered away from. But there he was all skinny and practically 7 foot tall with his wife and young son (we think), looking very uncomfortable slouched in his front row seat, as a woman on stage went on and on, and on and on some more (kind of like this blog) about his life and work (we’re pretty sure). Followed by another guy who took forever to shut up about this godlike Anton (we think) and then another guy who appeared with an award (or gift?) for Sir Anton. By the time Anton himself stood on stage, he had forgotten all his Italian (or so he said, probably figuring he could shorten the show by simply pretending) and so said a nice short 3 line thank you speech in English which his (supposed) wife had to spoil by speaking in Italian for 5 more minutes. Show off, I say). Okay so this all took at least an hour on top of the initial one hour delay and now it is 11 pm and all 25 or 30 of us (maybe 30) were breathlessly waiting for the performance of “Ragli” (“Queens” we think but I don’t know why it would end with an “i” the masculine plural- and the word wasn’t even in my Oxford Italian/English dictionary).

Let the performance begin! The lights dim, well except for a big spotlight pointing directly into the audience’s eyes from behind the stage, temporarily blinding us all… Then we see (sort of) 3 women in Venetian gowns and holding masks slowly stepping on to the rather small plexiglass stage. A caped man enters, approaches each of them, seductively takes off his cape revealing his incredibly lithe ballet dancer body, and jetés around them a number of times (he was obviously talented as a dancer but all we could do was worry that he’d fly right off the too small stage). A few minutes later, the spotlight again blinds us while more stuff happens (we would have known what stuff( if we could see) between one of the women and our dancer and then the lights go off. After a few long seconds, someone claps in the front row, so we all clap, wondering if it was already time for an intermission- after all it had only been 10 or 15 minutes, tops. But no, it wasn’t intermission, it was THE END.

And just like our blog readers, we stayed until the bitter end… through the curtain call and another speech. We managed to leave as soon as it was polite to do so (how fortunate you are as readers that I will never know when you give up on my blogs…but in case you hadn’t heard, there could be a “pop quiz” at any time). We exploded with laughter when we were far enough away to not be heard and continued “reliving” all the special seconds of the performance and the hours of our cultural evening all the way across the river, back home.

(& Nikki, be careful what you wish for)

Basil

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Kim has had two dreams in which she has been told that our blogs are too long. So, to remedy this for now, here is a short blog about basil.

The picture above shows how we buy basil at the market and grocery stores. It comes rooted in soil and so I have potted it allowing me to have more on hand. (One can also buy it in just leaves without the roots but then I find it always goes bad too fast.) At home in Seattle, all summer, I have basil growing and take great delight in going outside and snipping what I need.

I have found that basil here is a tiny bit more of a delicate flower than Seattle basil. This basil reacts to the hotter weather and easily gets chewed upon by some type of bug. So, I put it outside for a few hours each day and bring it in at night.

My Point of view....

August 26, 2008

Now just a moment; I’m sure many of you are wondering what has gotten into Kim. You are not alone. An honest confession is that, since we’ve arrived, both of us at different times have announced to the other, “It’s going to be a long year….” This, for me, is one of those moments. So I will try to clarify and give my own version and ask that you take a quiet moment out of your day and send me good wishes…

I first met Signore Angelo about a month ago when I was out shopping. At the time, he was very kind and asked me a number of questions about why I’m here, etc. I did let him know that I was here with “una amica” and didn’t see him again until Jean, Kim and I walked by and we stopped to say hello. Kim gave a passable version of that occurrence although I don’t know about the “only had eyes for me part”. I tend to not notice those things mostly because I’d rather just ignore and not get drawn into those life events.

Our encounter of which Kim speaks happened all very quickly. We shop at his place because he’s been friendly and we wanted to support his business. I greeted him with a “Buongiorno, Signore” to which he quickly replied, “To you, I am Angelo” (a comment that I would later identify as foreshadowing). As I started picking out my veggies, he began asking when we’d return to the US and couldn’t we just hide him in our suitcase? HA! HA! HA! We all laughed and smiled; Kim chose a couple of bottle of red wine. Then “IT” happened. As I paid him he reached out to me and I thought we were going to do the traditional quick kiss on each cheek, followed by arrivaderci and ciao! But, he pulled me c l o s e to him, did the two cheek connection, but then wouldn’t let go and began hugging me with a bit of force. As he hugged, he whispered in my ear (I could feel his whiskers tickling my ears!) to the effect of “We could have much love while you are here”. I pulled away and said, “No, Signore! Arrivaderci” and walked out the door. As I got out of ear shot I burst out laughing and told Kim what he’d said. She laughed and laughed leaving me to wonder and ask, “Why are you not jealous”? As we walked home, Kim starting singing, “Rachel has a boyfriend…” And that is what happened.

Next thing I knew, Kim was blogging her twisted version.

(I fear she doth protest MY version too much, non ѐ vero?)

Rachel has a Boyfriend

I can't remember if Rachel ever blogged about the man who owns the little vegetable and wine shop around the corner from us? She came home one day about a month ago and told me how nice the shop owner had been to her when she was looking at the wine bottles on sale outside his shop. They had a nice long "moment" together- he liked the fact that she was American yet was living in Alessandria for a year and that she was here with a "friend". She came home saying she had a new best friend. Somehow I never met the new best friend but I believe now that she probably kept me away from him so that she could have him all to herself. However when Jean was visiting and obsessing about finding balsamico glaze, we tried all the little stores nearby in our search and so went into his. He seemed to enjoy having all 3 women in his shop, asked us about ourselves and if we had husbands, surprised that none of us were married. He commented that Jean, although American, looked so German, so fit and strong. Despite the fact that it was I who was trying to speak in Italian to him, he only had eyes for Rachel- I swear! Then he gave Rachel a complimentary hot red pepper to try at home. Hmmm HOT red pepper, in retrospect I should have been more suspicious...

And while I could kick myself now, when we passed his store today it was I who insisted we look for wine there. If only I hadn't been so foolish I tell myself now... But today they could contain their passion no longer- no more secret longing between them. I may as well have been invisible for it was obvious they only had eyes for each other. To save face, I should have walked out but it was as if I was frozen to my spot near the door. Angelo (ha!, Il Diablo he will forever be to me) had Rachel in his arms, in such a sustained intense embrace, it makes me blush to write. I could hear him murmuring in Italian something like ooh, my little hot tamale, we could make such beautiful love together. At that, Rachel pretended to tear herself away from his arms and moved toward me. But the damage was done- their love revealed. I fled home locking all the doors behind me while she stood at the window and begged me to forgive her. I shut my fabulous Italian windows and can hear her no longer.

A Special Guest Blog!

 

After being home for a week now, I thought I’d better do my guest “blog” (what an ugly word! Is that the abbreviation for something?) before I forget about all the fun.

First of all, it was great to see Kim and Rachel again –and, it was great to see for myself if their life in Alessandria is anything like they’ve been describing it.

Now, I know there are a lot of other faithful “La vita Alessandria” readers out there who miss the girls and look forward to Kim and Rachel’s almost daily reports on their life in Italy (and are disappointed when they leave out a day of report/reflection) but I thought it might be interesting for them to read some comments from a somewhat more “objective” person.

Here are a few of my observations:

Oh yes, their little apartment is quite cute. The ceiling is a really ornate pattern of arched brick. Although the apartment’s small, it certainly gives them more of a “european experience”, where there just isn’t all the space everyone’s so used to in America. Rachel failed to mention that she uses the bidet to soak her feet on a hot day. I don’t know if any other reader noticed but Kim and Rachel have mentioned a number of times that people can see into their apartment. Now, I tried to explain to them that people can only see in if it’s lighter inside than out, which in the time I was there was only at night, when they closed their shutters anyway. But I’m glad they got their little gauze curtains cuz this will help with the mosquitos that eat poor Rachel up (I guess Kim and I aren’t sweet enough!)

About the cars and the noise…the courtyard outside their apartment seems to have the same acoustics they used while building the amphitheatre in Verona where Kim and Rachel enjoyed an opera. If you just talk normally while going from the apartment to the street or vice versa, your voice is carried and amplified as if you were on stage with a big set of Bose speakers. And although they mentioned that the cars have the right of way over all other modes of transportation, they failed to mention the SPEED with which the cars drive down the narrow little cobblestone streets! While lying on the pull-out couch in their living room (having chosen not to close the wonderful soundproof windows), on the morning of “the Ascension of Mary”, I thought I heard Lewis Hamilton drive by -the noise of his racing car also being amplified by the courtyard. I’m surprised no one is killed stepping out of their driveways.

Now, about those bikes Kim and Rachel wrote about -in the 6 days that I was in Alessandria, I remember they were pointed out to me only once. However, it seemed nowhere near where they live. I found that strange! Apparently, you have to travel to get to your bike in this city.

Do you remember Rachel saying that the phone technician spoke a bit of English? Well, I guess he probably moonlights as a national interpreter cuz I met NO ONE (with the exception of the beautiful student in Genoa, who helped explain to us the efforts of the train personnel) who spoke a word of anything other than Italian. We tried English, Spanish and German at the hairdressers but no go-just Italian. Luckily, Samuele and Co. knew what to do with hair AND were very friendly. So, Kim and Rachel found a place where they really have to learn the language and I was very impressed at how well both were doing at that.

As the last part of my guest blog, I’d like to go into a little more detail about the changing/showering situation at the beach on our trip to Cinque Terre. (Please refer to “the Odyssey Part 1”- third picture down). One had to throw all inhibitions to the wind because there just wasn’t any room to do otherwise. I took this picture of my oldest and dearest friend, naked, wrapped only in a flimsy towel, standing in the open public hallway of the shower/changing facility. Unfortunately, I failed to capture the people passing her on their way to the soda and ice cream machines located next to the cashier, who was seated behind me. What a pity! Good going Kimberly!!!

Daily Lessons...

 

 

 

 

August 23, 2008

Each day as we walk out of our apartment there is always the potential for new lessons to add to our learning curve; today’s Saturday market trip was such an event. We wandered in search of coverings for our front window and new pillow covers for our couch. The window covering allows us to see out but others cannot see in.

Slowly, we are getting with it regarding the Italian lifestyle. Recently I hung curtains that had been kindly left for our front door. That way, people who walk by can’t directly see in but we can see out. Also, last week we joined the Italians in adding flower boxes onto our front fenced area. This was done after we looked at pictures that Aurelie had taken when she lived here. It looked so pretty and welcoming and we had done nothing; we are losers when it comes to some things… So, now, to add to the door covering, I told Kim that I wanted curtains for our other dining room window which opens wide onto the court yard; anyone walking by can easily see in, whether they want to or not. All of this adds up to gay girls trying to manifest what comes naturally for gay boys. Sadly, it is not easy for us.

Recently some new folks moved into the upper floor just across the court yard. They often sit outside squatting, and from that upper floor they have a direct, bird’s eye view into our apartment. I am really a snob when it comes to them because I call them “The Clampets”. They tend to be very noisy at all hours and our closest neighbor complained to us about them last week. Some nights when I have been up late, unable to sleep, I hear them coming in, slamming the front main gate and talking loudly to one another. (Thank heavens for our fabulous Italian windows!) At other times, we hear loud arguments coming from all of their open windows and if they are being picked up by car, the driver lays on the horn blaring loudly to tell them to come.

They are not a big improvement over the folks that resided just before them. Those folks had a skinny, yippee dog that barked all hours of the day and night. As is my way, I dubbed it “Heroin Dog”. (I have to add a note re: Heroin Dog and her owner, a woman who also was extremely skinny with red long hair. The dog had a red coat, a long body, with long floppy ears. They looked so much alike, it was stunning). Those folks were asked to leave when their lease ended and the Clampets have now moved in.

As mentioned, it was time to find curtains similar to what we have covering our front door. The curtains are very sheer and, one can see out but others can’t see in; I tested this phenomenon and it is true. So, off we went to the market; me fighting a cold and sore throat but intent upon “doing something”. We found our curtains and couch pillows (la dee dah!) and set out to buy our bread, veggies, and as has become our Saturday custom, fresh fish.

There are a number of fish shops but they have big differences. Either the shop contains fish which is frozen and vacuum packed or it’s fresh, fresh, fresh. Not only do they sell fish but also shrimp, octopus, and other things that I honestly can’t identify. To date, we have bought salmon (salmone) twice, sturgeon (storione) once and today, sword fish, or “pesce spade”. The fish is always whole and when you ask for a piece, the worker (butcher/cutter) cuts off the slice(s) you request. Our fish today looked huge with its big head and sword attached. I communicated that I would like one ½” slice which given the size would make two very nice fillets—about a pounds worth. He cut the fish, weighed it, and let us know that the grand total was €25, or about $37.00. “Wow”, I said; “ummmm, grazie pero, no”. (Kim stood by looking incredulous as he then showed us the price tag which the fish had partially covered and I’d not even considered: it read, €60 per kilogram) and signed to us that “once cut, it’s yours”. Unfortunately, we didn’t have enough money with us AND we’d left without our ATM card (they don’t take VISA). So, as we hemmed and hawed with embarrassment, I had the idea of giving them Kim’s driver’s license and told them we would go home and return with the money. They understood but the cashier kept pushing the wrapped fish at me and I slowly realized that he trusted us, wanted us to take the fish home to refrigerate, and come back when we could.

So off Kim and I went, weaving our way through the throngs of shoppers, trying hard not to blame the other for a) not reading the cost and b) leaving home without the ATM card which was sitting in my wallet on the counter. The mood didn’t last long as we quickly rationalized that if we were to go out for dinner we would easily spend more, a lot more. We just kept shaking our heads, saying, wow, it better be good.

Given my cold and my weakened state, Kim was kind enough to retrieve our money and return without me to settle our debt. Upon returning home, she told me about a delightful conversation with the men in the shop who having seen her driver’s license realized we were Americane, and now were all smiles. They wanted to know where we are from and had her point out Washington on a large map that hung over the counter. She felt like a connection had been made and our embarrassing mistake turned into an opportunity to connect on a friendlier level in the future.

Given that Saturday is “fish day” and is a bit expensive, it has become our special dinner night. I always try to make the fish as best I can with nice side dishes. Tonight as I prepared to oven grill the fish, I made a sauce with olive oil, lemon, fresh capers, garlic, a touch of red pepper flakes, and salt and pepper. On the side was rice and Italian peasant bread salad. As I was getting ready to prepare the fish (olive oil and salt and pepper) Kim looked at me and remarked, “just make sure you don’t screw it up, okay”?

It’s a damn good thing I knew she was kidding… or was she??

August 21, 2008

 

Today is the first anniversary of my mother’s death. I find myself amazed at all that has transpired and changed in this last year. Never would I have imagined where I would be today.

This has been a year of milestones presented as, “firsts”. The first Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, Mother’s day and birthday without her; given the number of holidays in the US, I could also add others. It has taken work and extra breath to get through them in a manner that reflects the loss but simultaneously enhances my own life bounty and experiences.

I must continue moving forward with each day, remembering to live the moment and strive openly toward my future. It’s easy to slip back to the past too much; I seek a good balance between both worlds. But, above all, I hope to be someone who finds gratitude in all events and the peace and courage to accept whatever comes my way.

The Odyssey, Part III and Finale

 
 
 

August 20, 2008

Just to remind you, this was supposed to be a day trip- the original plan to arrive by 1pm on the Cinque Terre, spend 5 or 6 hours and return home by 9 or 10pm. After all, the entire trip should have taken us only 5 hours total in transit, NOT the almost 12 hours of train rides, waiting, waiting, and more waiting, culminating in a wild taxi ride from Genoa back home to Alessandria.

On the train from La Spezia, the very nice English-speaking train conductor, didn't give us any indication that there would be a problem making a connection to Alessandria once we finally arrived in Genoa. But, she was wrong and as we departed the Genoa train we saw a small crowd of people standing on the empty train platform; it didn't take much to figure out that we were all in the same stranded boat.

The next couple of hours involved train personnel trying to figure out what to do with all of us and indignant 2nd class passengers demanding some sort of compensatory help. Luckily, one of the passengers spoke good English and acted as our guardian angel and interpreter, updating us periodically as to what was being said and considered. To our surprise, we all were given the option of either a hotel for the night or a cab ride to our destination. This impressed us but we first had to get through a "tiny" and amazingly drawn out detail involving the copying of ID's, organizing who was going where and for us as a group, deciding hotel vs cab ride. Kim seemed content with a night at a Genoa hotel and I was wanting a cab ride home, now! (Jean didn't dare vote; she was wise enough to go along with "whatever you girls decide". AND, she was too busy talking about the inefficiency of the Italian train system vs the Austrian system). I wanted to get this over with and had zero belief that we would be given a decent hotel; I also didn't want to face the trains in the morning. So, my self righteous indignation won out (Kim didn't dare disagree) and f i n a l l y we were escorted out of the building and put into a cab.

It was a W I L D cab ride with the front windows rolled down and air blasting us as the driver sped his way toward Alessandria. Each of us was sure that "this is it" and I pondered whether I felt guilty if my decision would get us killed. I didn't; it would be fast.

So this is it, our first Italian style Odyssey. We were dropped off across from "our" train station and we all walked happily home. It was almost 3AM; the streets of Alessandria were peacefully deserted and with each step, we let go of any hard feelings, shushing ourselves as we laughed a bit too loudly.

Today's Quote

August 29, 2008

"Don't you think it's great that lawyers are called avvocato(s) in Italy?"
Kim Nicholas, Alessandria, Italy

Photographic Interlude in Vernazza....

Happier times.....
















Vineyards in the hills...

















Finally! Touchable, beautiful cats!











And some locals.....

The Odyssey, Part II

 

 

 

 

This someone was not happy at the thought of going all that way and NOT getting to Vernazza. So despite our long wait in La Spezia to get to Monterosso, I insisted that earlier delay must have been a anomaly and lobbied hard to go the 4 minutes by train (none of us said "let's walk the 1 and 1/2 hour trail...)to the very next stop, Vernazza. Ignoring the throngs at the station and Rachel's disgusted glances, I insisted we had enough time to catch even the latest train. Well, let's just say at this point, we could have walked and still the train would have been behind us. I am one very stubborn person and have a hard time admitting that just maybe, this wasn't the smartest thing to do. When finally the train for La Spezia arrived (another "anomaly," perhaps?), I continued to insist that we should get off at Vernazza. So with Jean's tacit approval and Rachel's strong disapproval, we got off the train there.

Vernazza is gorgeous and all of us thoroughly enjoyed looking around. It was still basically the same as Rachel and I remembered from 15 years ago but with a bigger, reshaped seawall and a rock pier from which swimmers were happily jumping off. We wished we had ignored dear old Rick Steves and come here first! The views are spectacular and the village so colorful and quaint, surrounded by the vineyards high on the surrounding hills. In such a place, who can worry about such mundane things like train schedules?? It was only 7:30 after all...

Maybe we(ahem)should have worried a tiny bit, in retrospect. Again, the station was mobbed and while I knew the last train from La Spezia to Alessandria departed at 9pm, I persisted in my vociferous defense of the Italian train system, and exasperatedly, told Jean and Rachel to "chill for god's sake! We'll get there!" And we did-in enough time to get to La Spezia to wait for our 9pm train. "Wait" being the operative word of the day...

Whatever one thinks of MacDonalds it is common knowledge, worldwide, that there is always a bathroom for anyone's use in there, hence a tribute should be made to the ubiquitousness of the Golden Arches. And not only do they have a bathroom but what better place to eat and wait when one's train never comes. Mind you, we didn't eat their delicious food, rather we simply ate our recently-purchased-elsewhere kebabs at a table of theirs. (For my money, MacDonalds deserves the gold medal of fast food-dom- so welcoming even when you're just mooching off of them)!

Since I am writing this from back home in our little apartment, obviously the train eventually arrived. My first clue that my faith in the train system was misplaced should have been the column labeled "rit" on the arrival/departure screen. "Rit" for ritardo (delayed). Jean noted this column doesn't exist in Germany or Austria and while we watched the screen change every 15 minutes to a new "ritardo" I wondered why Italy's own Fascist history couldn't have made the trains run on time ad infinitum like in her own adopted country. Needless to say, at this point in our trip, Rachel chose to be as far away from me as possible. While Jean and I camped out in MacDonalds, Rachel camped out on the hard, cold, stone slab they call a seat right next to the train tracks, with only a New Yorker magazine for company. Almost anticlimactically, when the announcement rang through the MacDonalds at midnight that the train was arriving heading toward Genoa, Jean and I headed to the track, and barely looking at Rachel, climbed aboard. Rachel, taking a seat across the aisle from me and Jean, was sending me a torrent of psychic messages, not the least of which was "I told you so, I told you so, I told you so". While I stubbornly made my mind a steel trap from her wordless assault, I remembered with growing dread that Genoa was still only halfway to Alessandria.

(This concludes Part II of our 3 part Odyssey)

The Odyssey, Part I

August 18, 2008

One of the things I really like about living in Alessandria is our location: an hour from Milan, Genoa, Turin… We’re on a main rail line and if you pay the Euros, off you go. Both Kim and I think that the train fares are high—much more than in the past. But, worldwide, things are more expensive so why not trains? In any case, given Jean’s visit, we thought it would be fun to head over to the Cinque Terre for the day. For those of you who may not be familiar with the Cinque Terre, it’s five little towns along the coast and overlooking the Ligurian Sea. It was first described in medieval times as the “five lands”. Jean has never been and it’s a two hour ride to La Spezia where you then connect to a local or Regionale train for the smaller town connections.

After reading Rick Steve’s for advice, we decided to head to Monterosso because he said the beaches there are bigger and sandier. Kim and I spent three or four nights in the Cinque Terre some 15 years ago so we were happy to revisit a place where we’d had such a fun time; at that time we stayed in Vernazza and on this trip, we’d hoped to also make it to that amazingly picturesque town. So, around 10AM with bathing suits in hand we left Alessandria on our journey for the day.

It’s summer and the area is quite busy with lots of tourists from many different countries. Families, couples, young backpackers carrying their heavy loads; all heading toward the beach and a spot to put down one’s towel. A new addition to us was the many chairs available for rent in certain “private” areas and then public areas where people were elbow to elbow. This public beach is what you first see as you come off of the train in Monterosso as you begin to orient yourself and strategize where you will hope to soon land. We of course headed (unknowingly) to the private, more quiet area and plopped ourselves down. A small technical detail was that the place where you pay to shower or change was closed for afternoon break time. We discussed the situation for a few minutes; the blaring down of the sun aided us in making a quick decision, which involved going to a wall behind all of the empty, non purchased chairs and changing there. Jean and I went first and held up a towel for one another and given that we all have 50+ some year old bodies, we didn’t worry about anyone getting too excited over us. Kim, with a little bit of encouragement followed shortly.

Our beach spot was very rocky and really had very little sand; actually, all of those empty chairs were on the sand and we sat right up in front of them. Within a few minutes, Jean and I were in the water which was a great temperature and felt fantastic! The waves pounded, the currents were strong and all those rocks were under our feet making walking a challenge. But we all managed and enjoyed our dips (I was the only one to get totally knocked down by the waves) followed by lots of people watching and talking. The sounds of the surf, the beauty of the day and the companionship of very dear people with good philosophical conversations made for a few perfect hours. But, all things do change and that perfection was not meant to last forever. A young man who was big and buff approached us to let us know that this was a private beach. “Oh, my” we said and it was time to move on….something that we internally knew we were ready to do.

There was no way we were going to join all those on the public beach and so headed to the little changing/shower/bathroom area which was now open. Now, as far as this kind of establishment goes, one is deluded to think that it’s going to be anything like your own home bathroom. But, as luck would have it, it could have been better but also W A Y worse and we managed cold showers and changing, ignoring the wide open window that ran along a main outside stairway. (Actually, Jean and I easily ignored those walking by but Kim who describes herself as “the prissiest of all” was not pleased; too much of her father’s daughter, too much sand and grime).

That done, it was time to wander and explore Monterosso followed by a nice drink at a bar overlooking the sea. I had Grappa for the first time ever (fire water!), Kim had an imitation Marguerite (bad choice), and Jean enjoyed something that seemed to be more like a Tequila Sunrise even though she’d ordered a wine spritzer. So, now fortified, it was time to head to the train station and on to Vernazza.

This ends Part I of our Cinque Terre Odyssey. As readers, please keep in mind the following additional details: our two hour trip to Monterosso (from Alessandria) actually took four and a half hours. It was 5PM and someone in our group was thinking that despite the hour, going to Vernazza was still a fine idea.

Meatballs anyone??

Jean left on Saturday but not after a few traumatizing events (and no, I'm not talking about having to get up at 4am to see her "boyfriend" Lazlo Che swimming in the Olympics for Hungary).

The first trauma occurred the night of my birthday during our dinner out to celebrate. Jean was so excited to see something called polpetini* on the menu, telling us that the grandmother of an old friend of hers used to make this wonderful meatball dish that she was sure must be the same thing. So imagine her surprise when after our delightful complementary glasses of champagne as well as a yummy complementary (!)appetizer this incredible "meatball" dish is set before her. The expression on Jean's face was priceless as she was struck dumb by the sight. It's important that you know at this point that Jean, unbelievably, is the only person I know who will not eat seafood of any kind. And on her plate was not an ordinary piece of fish, instead there were many "pieces" with many legs peering out from under her pasta in tomato sauce. I looked at her plate, nervously laughing. In one quick motion, I exchanged my ravioli- sans seafood- and put the offending dish place. Jean's expression changed to gratitude and all was well at our table for three. As for me, there was no sacrifice involved; I couldn't have been happier as I love all food- and it was by far the best octopus I (and Rachel agreed) had ever tasted! In Rachel's words: "incredibly succulent baby octopi prepared in a thick, rich, well seasoned tomato sauce with an underlying hint of spiciness (peperoncino rosso picante)over a bed of spaghetti." I just say molto delizioso!

*Once home we looked up octopus and meatballs. (I may have spelled it incorrectly above). Polpe is octopus (didn't see baby octopus) and meatballs are polpette- easy mistake to make with fortunate consequences for me. Even Rachel who is not fond of tentacles or weird seafood says she will order this dish our next time there.

And for those of you who commented incredulously about our "first time out to dinner," first I have to say that we really have eaten out in the evening, just not in a such a nice place and not after 8:30pm like the Italians. But the main reason for eating at home most of the time is that I live with a wonderful cook who actually enjoys making our meals and shopping in the markets for the ingredients. How lucky am I!!

Trauma #2 will be on our next blog...