Pain au Chocolat....

Today is a quiet Sunday morning with wandering the streets of Toulouse for our coffee and daily pain au chocolat....Oh, yum, they are a treat that we usually reserve for special occassions.  But, given that we are in France, we are trying to be good visitors.


We had a very nice time watching a very handsome, efficient young man do his coffee making craft as he served many people in a cafe.  I will post his picture; I have named him Jacques.

We visited the basilica Saint Sernin, a grand church that was built in the 11th century.  One of its major features is an incredible pipe organ.  We arrived in the church 5 minutes before the end of mass and were treated to a fantastic organ concert! For now, hear it in your mind and later, we will treat you with the sounds of Saint Sernin and Toulouse. 

For now, we say adieu and we are going to pick up Sister Wendy who is taking a personal and special tour of the basilica.  Because she wears a special outfit, she gets special treatment!!  She did not even once advocate for our being able to accompany her....She is retaliating for the time spent in my bag.  This trip she is a bit more demanding.

Jean and Linde arrive tonight and we begin a new chapter....

Spending the Day with Rita....

Yesterday Rita invited us over for the early afternoon main meal. She had many leftovers from Christmas and we were more than happy to help her "manage" them. She began our meal with a few antipasti: baked eggplant in olive oil, an olive tapenade and another kind of tapenade on crackers, and the wonderful peperoni con bagna caoda. Next we had cappelletti in broda (a lovely capon broth); we'd helped her make hundreds of little cappelletti the night before the night before Christmas as they are a holiday ritual for her and she had many people in her exended family to feed on Christmas eve. (Kim managed to form the filling into little balls and Rachel and Rita made the cute little stuffed caps). Next Rita served a capon salad with fruit and nuts followed by a capon that she had stuffed with a mixture of pork and bread crumbs, accompanied by delicious roasted potatoes. When the bird was carved, the breast included a beautiful layer of the pork which just melted in our mouths. Naturally each course was accompanied by wine and bread so how could we possibly fit dessert into this picture? Easily- especially when it's a yummy chocolate cake served with a flute of champagne. (Is it any wonder that in Italy one would need a rest between the hours of 1:30 and 3:30?)

The three of us decided against resting. We chose to take a walk instead. We walked to a bridge that we had only seen from the train in the distance. It has huge spotlights on the side which, according to Rita, either makes it look like the Brooklyn Bridge at night or the bridge itself is compared to the Brooklyn Bridge- something was being said about the BB that we couldn't understand. We couldn't see any resemblance so once again we're sure we misunderstood. It was too light outside for the lights to be on so we really don't know. We will explore one of these evenings soon and see what we will discover. What we could see- and they were beautiful- were the mountains in the distance backlit by the sun. Stunning.

It was very cold out and despite being bundled up we were chilled upon arriving home. Rita told us that we now needed to have "vin brulee." We said you mean like creme brulee but with wine?? She laughed ( we are very amusing to her we're sure) and within a few minutes, watching her at the stove, we realized vin brulee is hot spiced wine. And indeed it did the trick- we were now warm inside and out.

Happy Holidays!!

Greetings from Alessandria!!

BOOKS!!!

Since we lugged so many books over here (how could a former bookseller NOT bring a ton of books... as books in a suitcase will win over clothes every time!) and both Jean and Louise have each given or loaned us many, too, we thought we would share "our reads in Italy" with you. (the image above is a stock image, not our book shelves, so don't think we brought a book about Florida to Italy) To find the list, you'll have to scroll down to the end of the entire blog where you'll see the books we've read thus far (we will update the list as we finish a book). Kim, of course, couldn't resist putting stars next to ones she really enjoyed- Rachel who is much less opinionated declined to use the star system. We both enjoyed the mystery novels (Leon and Hiaasen) but they were not starred either. And should you be interested...there is a world map showing the locations of our blog readers and also links to the blogs of Louise in Lucca and Steve in Copenhagen. So keep scrolling!

A Snowball Fight!

 

Building a snowman and having a snowball fight--what could be more fun?? Here we are with our wonderful neighbors (from l to r) Massimo and Eduardo, Barbara, Rita and Chiara. Kim had the idea for the snowman (dressed to fashionable Italian standards), I had the idea for TiTi the rabbit (including pinto beans for cacca). When Massimo, Barbara and Eduardo drove up for the night the snowball fight erupted as soon as Massimo walked out of his garage; we were armed and waiting. We all threw snowballs, laughed and made tons of noise for a good half hour. Leda, aka La Senora, (not pictured) applauded our efforts from her window perch above.

Click on pictures to enlarge and we promise, they'll then look in focus!

Happy Thanksgiving!

 

November 27, 2008

A Very Happy Thanksgiving To All Of You!

We made a meal here in Alessandria...Three carry packs full of groceries, turkey, and most of the trimmings. AND... Kim baked an apple crisp which we had with vanilla ice cream. Leftovers go to Rita and family, to introduce them to an American Thanksgiving. Be well, safe, and happy. Thanks for being in our world.

More Candle Lighting Opportunities....

 

Did you know that if you double click on the collage (or other individual pictures), it will get bigger and thus easier to see?

We Were Hijacked!!

To any of you who checked the blog recently and saw the picture of a piece of human anatomy, WE APOLOGIZE!!! We posted at an internet cafe in Perugia and all I can guess is that perhaps there was a virus/hemorrhoid of some sort that infected our posting.

Thank you to a reader who kindly pointed this out....we just returned and because we are NOT anal retentive (so to speak) we hadn't been online until now...

More to come soon; hopefully no more surprises!!

Oh Please, May It Be......

Vienna Friends Fall '08

 

Vienna Old & New...

 

Vienna's Cemetery

 

An Innocent Little Mistake...

 

 

 

 

September 8, 2008

It was Kim’s idea. She’d read about a festival that was occurring in a town north of us named Vercelli. The festival was described as having food booths as well as folks dressed in medieval costumes. So, given our ideal location we decided to take a day trip and check it out. At first, we thought that we could take a bus but as we investigated, it looked like we would need to take a train; one of the very small “regionale” trains that go to the smaller towns. So with enthusiasm and anticipation, we headed out and were treated to the beauty of the Piedmont landscape: rolling hills in the distance with fields of corn, wheat and rice. Given the irrigation needs and the flooded fields, there are always many birds flying and swooping and I never tire of seeing the different variety of what look like cranes and Blue Heron.

Vercelli is the rice capital of Europe; 60% of European rice comes from Vercelli and its northern neighbor town, Novara. Rice was introduced in Sicily by the Arabs and the many canals which feed the fields were dug in the 15th century. The story goes that this rice was a greatly guarded commodity for many years until 1787. In that year, Mr. Thomas Jefferson came for a visit and smuggled out a few bags of this granular gold where he took them to South Carolina and thus began the American rice industry.

Across the aisle from us, Kim spied two women who were reading an English dictionary. Kim initiated a conversation and it turned out that they are from the Phillipines; one has been here for several years and the other had just arrived. The woman who has been here the longest spoke very good English and told us she was headed to Milan to sign her friend up for work. As soon as she learned that we were living in Alessandria “just to have the life experience” she quickly announced, “You must be very rich; do you have any work for my friend”? We let her know that we didn’t but she again asked wondering if we were sure.

As we continued our ride through the small little towns, we remained alert for a town where we would have to change trains and make the Vercelli connection. At one point I asked aloud if this upcoming town was “the one” and quietly the young man next to us said, in perfect English, “no”, adding that he knew so because he too was headed for Vercelli. This young man, Alberto, is 28 years old and is from the Dominican Republic; he’s been living in Italy for 4 years now and told us his story about his family and plans for his future. He lives in Genoa and travels to Vercelli on the weekends to be with his wife and their three year old daughter. He proudly showed us their pictures and spoke of his goal to earn enough money to be able to return to “my country” and begin his own business as the boss (1€ = 50 Pesos). Currently, he works long hard hours in a bakery owned by his brother in law—“they call bakers white artists” he tells us proudly. He goes on to talk, very realistically, about his other talents (his excellent English opens tourism employment doors and he also knows the construction business). As I remarked that he seemed to be a very talented, intelligent young man, he answered “Yes, and it is all due to my parents”. Now, could he have said anything sweeter? (Kim, of course, said she hoped her daughter would say the same thing someday…) We transferred trains together and continued our talking until we reached Vercelli where we said our goodbyes to this Spanish, Italian, and English speaking young man and watched him walk away to greet his waiting family.

Vercelli is a nice town that reminds us of Alessandria with its pedestrian walkways but has more greenery and flowers than Alessandria. Of course, we arrived during the rest hours when most everything (including the Tourist Information) was closed. We began walking around to orient ourselves but also to see where the festival might be; we assumed it might be in the older section and perhaps near the huge 13th century Basilica di Sant’Andrea that greets you as you depart the train station. With no immediate luck, we had ourselves a leisurely lunch to wait out the rest period and then once again began our exploration. What did we discover besides the fact that most things were still closed (including their big museum that was in theory, supposed to be open)—was a sign announcing that “our” festival was not scheduled to begin until 19:00, oh about 3 or 4 hours from now. And, not meaning to be judgmental, since we saw no evidence of tents or preparation, we didn’t hold out too much hope for their festival and for what had been my fantasy image—jousting, food booths, music……

‘Twas not our fate to enjoy a fair and so we made the best of it by walking the meandering streets, sitting in the main piazza eating gelato, and looking at the various stalls of products. By around 4:30 we decided to head back and catch the 5:40 and on our way we took more time at the basilica. For quite awhile, we were the only ones inside and we viewed beautiful inlaid wood work scenes in the choir section behind the main altar. For a few minutes I didn’t see where Kim was and I just stood looking around this massive room, alone, feeling chills from the history encompassing me.

With that, it was time to arrive at the train station for our departure but, wouldn’t you know it, there was no train and instead of leaving at 5:40, it had already departed at 5:26 (17:26). So, with that information, all one can do is wait until the next train (in an hour and a half) and wander a bit more—this time to a nice park nearby where we discussed all the ways that Alessandria “should” improve itself.

Finally it’s train time. What is the problem? All we have to do is backtrack—go to Mortara, switch trains and back home to Alessandria…. A few details about the train stations: often, they don’t list the stops on the overhead reader board, just the final destination. And in this station they didn’t even have that- just departures from the morning. The in-between stops are listed on a huge 6 x 5 poster with ALL the destinations and arrivals. More often than not, we look at the arrival poster when we should be looking at the departure poster. Somehow (occasionally God works with us instead of only for Sara Palin) we made it to our connecting station but again, there was nothing listing Alessandria. And, when one is quickly looking because they’re worried about missing their connection, sometimes rash decisions are made or we listen to people we shouldn’t. I asked a young woman waiting on a bench which binario was the train to Alessandria and she sounded so sure when she replied, cinque (5); so with that “official” confirmation we raced there. We saw a train conductor (he had a blue hat on so he must be the conductor) also racing to binario 5 and we took that as all the confirmation we needed. He jumped onto the first car of the train and we hurriedly got on in the back- the last car. Kim commented that the reader board next to the train was blank and asked if I didn’t think that odd? We no sooner sat down when there was a whistle and swoosh, the doors closed and the train began to move.

Once on the train, we were completely alone in our car. I rationalized that everyone must be further up. So, for about ten minutes, we reveled in the air conditioned car as the country side moved by and we headed north… hmmmm, I began thinking, the sun is setting on my left, that means we are going north and I’m pretty sure that Alessandria should be south. Kim was busily taking pictures of the landscape at twilight, trying to catch the beauty of the westerly sunset on the brilliant yellow and green rice fields while I was obsessing about whether we were going in the wrong direction. Hmmmm, still no one around and the train wasn’t stopping at any of the towns we passed. It was then I announced to Kim that “This kind of feels like one of those old Twilight Zones…” and when she quickly agreed, we looked at each other and burst out in nervous, ooops laughter.

So, what to do, what to do? Here comes the beauty of different personality and coping styles. Kim thought we should “Just stay on; it’ll stop eventually and we can get off then”. I said that I thought we’d best head up front and see what we could find…to let someone know that we are here. I won out only because I started leaving and Kim scurried after me…”Don’t leave me; don’t leave me!” So, forward we moved, pulling open the sliding doors between each car (and it seemed there were a zillion) and letting each of them slam behind us with a thunk! “You two are something else” the train seemed to yell as it eerily roared and sped down the tracks. I kept thinking to myself, “How did we do this and what will happen?” but had no answers as I continued opening and closing doors, seeing no one, laughing, and wondering what I would blog.

Eventually there were no more doors. We had arrived at the lead car and through a small Plexiglas window I saw two men sitting at the controls. For a second, I was taken in by all the dials and lights (have I mentioned I am a daughter of an engineer?) and tentatively knocked. No response; no looking back. So again, I knocked, harder and louder and as I looked behind me, I saw Kim standing, hidden in a corner yelling at me, “You can’t knock on that door!! He has to drive! Stop knocking! Finally, one of the two engineers slowly turned and looked at me but then turned back and kept driving; nothing. In hindsight he probably thought he was hallucinating. I just started laughing and tried knocking again. After what was really, probably, only a few seconds (but seemed like an eternity) the door opened and two men were looking at me just a tad bit annoyed.

Okay, first things first. “Io non parlo Italiano; sono Americana”. (and can you guess what that means??) Well, apparently it meant nothing to them because they both just started speaking in rapid sentences saying that this train is out of service (I do understand more of the language these days, but they didn’t have to tell me that because I already had figured that out). One driver was really annoyed and kept yelling at me- how did we get on the train? Kim stepped forward and uttered the word “Mortara” and he kept saying they hadn’t stopped at Mortara. I just didn’t know what else to say because here we were and what was the point of going on in this ridiculous vein. Again, I told him I didn’t speak Italian and again, he just kept ranting at me. Finally, his colleague said to him, “Hey, they don’t speak Italian; chill”. We were then told that they were NOT going to Alessandria but to Novara (in quite the opposite direction) and that no train would be going to Alessandria until tomorrow. “Um, okay. Can we get off there?” “Oh, you bet you can” they seemed to say.

So, we walked back to another car and sat down and laughed; there’s really nothing else you can do in these situations. Meanwhile Kim showed me her failed attempt at taking a picture of me talking with the engineers; it’s of the floor. (It’s probably a good thing these guys didn’t see her or we would have had to practice the jump and roll out of a speeding train that Kim had fantasized about doing a half hour earlier…). A few minutes later, the engineer who’d told the other guy to chill (okay, whatever the corresponding Italian is) appeared carrying a palm pilot and looking up the schedule. He told us that in Novara, about 10 minutes up the track, we could get off, catch another local train back to Mortara and transfer to an Alessandria bound train.. That all sounded really familiar but we just kept saying “thank you, thank you, sorry, sorry, sorry”.

The wheels began to screech as the train began to slow; we had arrived in Novara. Mr. Nice Engineer came and got us and tried to open the doors; they would not open. He kept yelling at the other engineer and they kept trying. This only added to the tension; eventually, they opened the opposite door and we were off of the train. Mr. Nice personally escorted us across the tracks and to the track where our return train was waiting. He again reviewed our directions with us in broken English and we all shook hands. Looking over my shoulder to wave goodbye, I could have sworn he crossed himself.

The rest of the story ends with us making it home 10 hours after we left the apartment for what we imagined would be a few hours at a fair. Yes we had made the correct train connection but there were still a couple of minor details: the cars were so brightly lit at 10 pm that you couldn’t see out to see the name of the train station- the windows were like mirrors; and they didn’t announce which town we were in when we stopped so there Kim and I were with our faces plastered to the windows trying to see out. Kim and I reminisced and got semi-hysterical about a similar experience we had on our first trip to Italy together 15+ years ago when we were barely 40. She wondered aloud if we’d still be doing this kind of dumb stuff when we’re 80 and we both agreed yes, more than likely we would (that is, unless some furious train engineer throws us overboard before we ever see that ripe old age!).
When we finally arrived in Alessandria, I heaved a sigh of relief. “We’re home”, I said. And we were.

Roaming Genoa

 

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....

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??

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.

Photographic Interlude in Vernazza....

Happier times.....
















Vineyards in the hills...

















Finally! Touchable, beautiful cats!











And some locals.....