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...