Where the Locals Go

We have three islands easily accessible to us via a short ferry ride: Capri, the mainstream of high class tourism with the fancy shops and 7euro coffees to prove it; Ischia, the preferred destination of mainland Europeans and ex-pats living in Naples, with a focus on the hot spring spas dotting the island; and Procida, the island where the locals go. Without Capri's fancy-schmancy shops and Ischia's hot spring spas, Procida is an island of quiet beauty and simple charms. Only a 20 minute ferry ride away, Procida is a quick and undemanding trip for us, and getting off our ferry, Nathan and I immediately fell in love with it. The small harbor is fronted with a sailboat filled marina and colorful, peeling paint buildings housing pizzerias, bars, and cafes. We were there with a friend of a friend who was spending a couple of days with us. Our Procida visit coincided with his last few hours in the region, so we elected for a walk out of our guidebook to show us the highlights of one end of the (sort-of) crescent shaped island.

Up a hill we walked, gaining our footing on the cobblestones and passing typical, beach town shops selling flip-flops, T-shirts, and beach bags. A quick turn to the left took us past apartments opening directly onto the street and into a small piazza, bordered with a cafe, a bakery, a beautiful, yellow church, and a stunning view down into another harbor area, called Marina Corricella. Pastel painted buildings tumbled down to a short embarcadero along the water, and the view from above looked exactly like my imaginings of small, Italian seaside towns. We continued past the church with vibrant mosaics both outside and in, up past a castle and another beautiful viewpoint, through a tunnel "Romantico," and onto the tip of the island to the Abbazia di San Michele Arcangelo, a former monastery built in the 11th century. Nathan had no interest in the catacomb and "secret chapel" tour, so he read on the church's beautiful terrace while our friend and I took the Italian language tour of the catacombs (which consisted of a library and a room with a big pile of bones viewable through a plexiglass window, and a couple of frescoed chapels once used for prayer and meditation). I have found that no matter how much I concentrate on these Italian language tours, there is just very little information that I take away. I might catch a couple of dates and be able to read some body language on some points, but overall, unless I have a one on one tour, I never learn anything to really expand my knowledge of the site. But still, the Abbazia was interesting and beautiful.

After this visit, we headed back down the hill, via the old castle moat, and into that gorgeous riot of buildings I mentioned before, Marina Corricella. We walked down narrow stairways, between buildings painted bright coral and yellow and pale green, we watched a delivery man use a motorized cart to carry his wares up the steep stairs, and we finally landed at the water, where a small inner harbor held sailboats in miniature - tiny, wooden daysailers - and an outer harbor held the larger, liveaboard and charter sailboats. We'd planned for lunch here, but options were few (only one option really), so we headed up, up, up another steep set of stairs, where we promptly took a wrong turn (my fault) that led us past grand villas with grand gardens, set back from the road and locked away behind ornate, iron gates. With time getting short and bellies crying, we turned back to the main marina in order to have time for food before our ferry back to the city.

Our short tour of Procida was enough for us to know that the island takes its place as our favorite. While I absolutely love Capri's quiet neighborhood of Anacapri, filled with white houses and narrow streets bordered by flower spilling walls, Capri can be hard to visit. It takes quite awhile for us to reach the port for the ferry, and the ferry can be a rough ride. Once on Capri, it's a fight to the finish to fit yourself onto a bus (every time I've gone, the funicular has been broken). In Anacapri, it's gorgeous and serene, but getting there and away can be a long and stressful journey. Ischia, for me, isn't much better, although the hot spring spas are a powerful draw. But lovely, lovely Procida is the island to relax, walk, and take in all the color. Next time, we should rent Vespas.

And the Winner Is...

We're approaching our one year anniversary of living in Naples. I thought I'd wait until the official year anniversary to announce where I did indeed find the best gelato, but I can't wait. I'm jumping the gun and calling it. I have two favorites, one found yesterday right here in Naples: Casa Infante, Via Toledo 258. This is the place. With a wall of sugar cones lining the back of the restaurant and fluffy, yummy, artisan gelato flavors filling the chilled cases, Casa Infante is officially my favorite gelateria for the year. They even coat the bottom of your sugar cone with a bit of chocolate, so that once all the gelato is gone, you still have a special treat to enjoy at the end. Casa Infante has two locations, but Nathan and I happened upon the Via Toledo on a quiet Sunday in Centro (downtown). As long as you don't want to shop or see any sites, Sunday is a great day to be in downtown Napoli - it's so quiet, some streets become pedestrian zones, and there's enough tranquility to really enjoy the area rather than sneak quick glances at buildings while dodging Vespas, cars, people, trash, and dog poop. Fortunately for us, one of the few businesses open along sleepy Via Toledo (never thought I'd write those three words together) was Casa Infante, and we had a family consensus: best gelato.

I do have to give more than a nod to Rome's Gelateria della Palma at Via della Maddalena 19/23 (a couple of blocks from the Pantheon). I love this place, despite the absolute hordes of customers at all times. The gelateria offers every flavor possible to dream up, and while I've read that others think they offer too much to keep their quality good, I lucked into a favorite flavor the first time around...and went back for the same flavor the next day (honey and pine nut). The high crowds make it difficult to get a good look at all your options and the menu list at the cash register is absolutely horrible at explaining the different cones and prices. Even worse, like any place that has that many customers throughout the day, the service is a "get 'em in and get 'em out" style, so Gelateria della Palma doesn't get the winning vote...but for me, they are a must visit when in Rome.

Jazz Among the Ruins

A couple of weeks ago, there was a jazz festival here, held in a few different tourist sites around Pozzuoli. Concerts were held every night, most in the Solfatara (which is that stinky place I wrote about back in September 2010). Since I vowed never to return to the Solfatara, those concerts were out for me. But one was allegedly held in the Baia Terme Archaeological Park, my favorite ruins in our immediate neighborhood. This is the place that is an old Roman spa complex and villa, and so lacking in visitors that most visits, I've had the complete complex to myself. There is an old swimming pool, a fabulous, domed spa, tunnels heading down into the ground, and a wonderful view of Baia and the Bay of Pozzuoli beyond. Naturally, I was very excited to attend a jazz concert there. I'd made arrangements to go with new friends, who know the festival organizers. They said the concerts always start late, so we didn't rush and eventually arrived to the venue about 30 minutes after the start time...and the venue was completely dark with a chained gate locking it up tight. Okay, this is Italy - maybe they're starting really late. We headed down the street to a popular bar for drinks and snacks. An hour went by and other friends showed up. As it turned out, the venue was printed wrong on the flyer. Possibly the concert was now over, but with good drinks and good company, the evening carried on anyway.

Saturday night was the final concert of the festival - my last chance. Nathan was out of town, but a co-worker couple of his had expressed an interest in going - this concert was at the Temple of Neptune, a ruin that is usually closed to visit, but does have a soccer field attached to it where the local kids play. I'd never even heard of this ruin, so I was quite excited to see something new. Once again, we arrived a little late in hopes we'd get there as the concert was starting. It seems that when my friend told me the concerts don't ever start on time, he was not exaggerating. The 8:00 concert started about 9:25. But what was even funnier is that the venue didn't even fill up until about 9:15 or so. I was wondering if this was a chicken and egg riddle - Did the concert start late, so no one showed up on time...or did no one show up on time, so the concert started late? Which came first? But, as my friend said, "It's Italy." And remember...now I sort of smile at that instead of doing internet searches for cheap flights back to the U.S. Regardless of the start time, the evening was absolutely lovely. A cool breeze had blown away the humidity, our "early" arrival landed us seats in the back where there were cushioned chairs around tables, the better to rest our glasses of a local wine, and when the concert eventually started, we were able to chat quietly with a background of live jazz filling our ears. The night ended perfectly with a visit to a neighborhood pizzeria, where I ordered some of the best pasta I've eaten in Naples. Unfortunately for my friends, they and the rest of the neighborhood had ordered pizza, which took about an hour to come out - highly unusual, here, but the pizzeria was hopping. At midnight, families were still pouring in - families, as in Mama, Papa, Nonna (grandmother), and at least two young children. At midnight. It really is different here.

Market Bounty

Last week, my friend took me to her vegetable stand at the Pozzuoli Fish Market (which quite obviously, also has vegetable stands). She'd been telling me how good her place was - the veggies are usually fresh and the prices are great. She did not tell a lie. While Nathan and I have been getting our produce at either the grocery store or a veggie stand down the road from our house, we've found the produce a little old and usually expensive. And had I gone to the stand at the Pozzuoli Fish Market alone, my bounty may have cost significantly more. But an introduction from a long time customer, at any small business here, can work wonders. For the largesse above, my final bill came to the princely sum of 13euros. I tried, unsuccessfully, to cram all my purchases into the small backpack I'd brought. In the future, I will haul along a granny cart (large bag on wheels with a handle), a gift from the same friend.

Slowly - oh, so slowly - I feel more and more settled here. The last month of getting out to markets, finding a favorite drink at the coffee bar, dinners with friends, and discovering stores for everyday life (Metro is my new best friend and will one day get it's very own post) has calmed my mind from the near constant anxiety of always feeling behind the curve, of not knowing what's going on, of never knowing exactly what to say. A common refrain I hear is that "Naples isn't Italy. Naples is different." While every region in Italy has it's own quirks, customs, dialect, cultural norms, Naples truly is a world unto itself. So many times in conversation, when speaking about some event, idea, whatever, people just sigh and say, "It's Naples." I'm finally able to hear that with a little bit of pleasure rather than an immediate desire to hop on the nearest plane home. After all, as I've had to tell myself in six other cities before Naples, this is my home now.

Perfect Summer Day in Italy

Yesterday was as near a perfect day as I've had this summer. I headed back to the beach with a friend who lives down the street. We set up our chairs and umbrella, pulled out water, snacks, and books, then promptly set to the hard job of relaxing on the beach. Our view took in the Baia Castle up on the nearest cliff, then on to Capo Miseno, that famed home of the Roman fleet at the time of Pompeii's eruption, and off in the distance, Capri was visible in the clear air. When time for a cool down swim arrived, I donned snorkel gear, and we set off for a nearby buoy. Where the buoy floats was once dry land, and with this particular stretch of the coastline being a former hotbed of vacation villas for wealthy Romans, under the waters lie the ruins. There are more watery ruins down the road in Baia, but those are for divers. The Arco Felice bits lie just off the beach where we were set up and the water is so shallow that in a couple of places, had I put down my legs, I would have been standing on an old, villa wall. The only villa we found during this swim was not one that had a mosaic floor, although those are out there, too. This one did have several columns, creepy with the algae covering up their former glory. One toppled column was not covered with marine life, so it's brick facing was clear. In other places, the columns just rose up out of the sand bed, with the walls of the villa surrounding them.

I'm always a little wary when I put on a snorkel. I'm not completely comfortable in the water, and for me, the unknown can sometimes be a good thing. I'm not sure I actually want to know what creatures are swimming around me. As with everything else in my new life, things are different here! There is no marine life. Nada. Just around the villa, I was thankful to finally see a few small, colorful fish - I suppose due to the marine growth on the ruins providing food. That made me feel a little better, but I've never snorkeled a place that just had nothing going on. Is it water pollution? Just a fact of no food = no creatures? Come to think of it, I now recall a headline from a couple of weeks ago in Italian, meaning I paid little attention to it. It was a news banner flashing across my email home page with the words "bianca" (white) and "Naples" in it and a picture of a shark. Perhaps I should have paid closer attention. This seems like it could have been important now that I'm actually swimming in these waters...okay, I've just done a Google search on the matter and found nothing. Although apparently some company named Evinrude is now distributing something called the White Shark line in Italy - see, that headline I read could have said anything. That's why I just count on ignorance and prayer to stay safe here.

Following a few hours under the summer sun and sporting a lovely stretch of skin that my sunblock spray missed, we packed it in and headed to our respective homes. Since sitting in the sun all day is hard work, I had no desire to cook dinner. As it turns out, a J-O-B. is actually hard work, so Nathan, too, was missing a desire to cook. He made the most lovely suggestion for dinner. You might think it was the words, "Let's eat out." That, however, is not the relaxing, easy way out - dinner out can be complicated, and very long, unless it's pizza. Since we're just off our diets, we're trying to spend weeknights with more healthy options. Off we went to Gennaro's, where we picked up prosciutto, salami, mozzarella di bufala, fontina cheese, and a large loaf of bread. Back home, adding in some olives and tomatoes and fresh basil to our spread along with glasses of wine, and we enjoyed my favorite, Italian dinner of all. And best of all, while we were at Gennaro's, we also stopped in to the gelateria for dessert first - a cone of biscotti gelato, and the day was perfect!

Going to the Market

Before I moved to Naples, the women who had lived here in the past kept telling me about the wonderful markets. "Oh, I miss the markets." "You're going to love the markets." "The markets are the place to buy anything you want, especially Italian shoes." This last one really caught my attention. Despite the fact that I essentially wear two pair of shoes only, black loafers for winter and flip-flops for summer, I adore shoes. Heels especially - very practical for walking on cobblestones, especially for someone who trips when wearing flip-flops. Thankfully, we go to church, so I have an outlet for my fancy shoes. I probably get holy points deducted for that - possibly it counts as pride. I'll have a moral crisis over the issue at another time, though. Today, we're talking markets.

Naples has many markets spread around the city. We even have one right here in our neck of the woods on Saturdays, although I've yet to drive over to it. Some markets operate every Monday-Saturday, some are just one day of the week, some are just a monthly market (can-not-wait to go to the Naples Antique Market one of these months). Markets are typically outdooors, with vendors set up under large tents. Some are produce/food only; some are a mix of everything - food, clothes, shoes, housewares. They are not like a market with handicrafts or artisan products. That's a completely different entity. Way back when, a friend invited me to join her group of girlfriends for the Monterusciello market and coffee after at a fancy pants coffee/pastry joint. We had a good time, but as for the market, I just didn't find a whole lot. The clothes and shoes seemed cheap. And maybe it was the fact of being in a group of six that made me more hesitant to take my time looking. Maybe it was that I was still overwhelmed by just living in this country, and I was still operating in a bit of a daze. But since that time, I'd yet to visit any other markets. In the past couple of weeks, I have determined to make a change in my weekly routine - read, get out of the house!

A new friend and I were going out to lunch, and we decided to go to the Fuorigrotta Market first. We both thought we'd cruise through the market, probably not buy anything, just get a feel for what a market is like. Wrong for both of us. We found beautiful shoes, vintage tablecloths, adorable bathing suit cover-ups, gorgeous beads (for jewelry making), and even a little bit of produce for each of us. Despite the fact that we are under a weather advisory for extreme heat and the temperature reached well into the 90s, we soldiered on for over two hours, exclaiming over every booth and having the most fun with the shoes. After the heat had beaten us, and we'd explored every booth, we headed back to the port town of Pozzuoli for lunch. Finding a wonderful, "climatized" restaurant, we finished our market day with a delicious bowl of penne arrabiata, delighting in our good deals and the opportunities we have here, from big travels to such fabled places as the Amalfi Coast and Tuscany to smaller events, like a Market Day.

Caves and Beaches

Santa Maria di Castellabate beach - A Blue Flag beach (=good)

Summer weekends are fast disappearing, and we've been very lazy this season in our exploration. For the weekend of July 4th, Nathan had four whole days. This is prime travel opportunity time, but we decided weeks ago to spend the time exploring our own region of Campania. The plan was one beach day, one day on the Amalfi Coast, one day in the Cilento National Forest, and one day at home. Good plan. We didn't follow it. After two entire days of lazing about, we finally decided to actually get off the sofa and see something. On the Fourth of July, we drove to the Cilento region to visit Grotte dell'Angelo. There are two main cave systems in that area, this one and Grotta di Castelcivita. While I want to visit Grotta di Castelcivita someday - who wouldn't with this description out of Lonely Planet: "There are longer, three hour tours between May and September when the water deep within the cave complex has dried up. Hard hats and a certain level of fitness and mobility are required." - we opted on this trip for Grotte dell'Angelo, mainly because the tour starts in a boat that you take into the cave system, and you "disembark just before the waterfall" (again with the LP guidebook).

Cave Entrance

On arrival, we found that the next English speaking tour was in three hours. And off we went on the Italian language tour departing in 20 minutes. Therefore, I can tell you next to nothing about the cave. But it was awesome. We rode the boat, then walked for about an hour through caves and halls and itty, bitty little grottoes chock full of stalactites and stalagmites, many that had met in the middle over the millenia of growth. This and the other cave I mentioned have shown signs of human habitation, and Grotta di Castelcivita (the one we didn't visit) takes it's place in the record book as the site of the oldest settlement in Europe, with evidence of habitation dating to 40,000 years or so, give or take a few millenia. This makes our local, Roman ruins seem pretty puny.

Okay, here's where I get on my soapbox. To all Americans traveling overseas: (1) If you decide to take a tour in which the guide is speaking the language of your host country, IT IS RUDE to talk to your partner loudly while your guide is talking. Just because you can't understand him doesn't mean the others in the group can't; (2) It is also rude to just walk off in the middle of his sentence - you picked going on a foreign language tour, so by golly, stand there and pretend you know what the heck your guide is saying; (3) In a cave, DO NOT touch the stalactites and stalagmites; (4) Even though you didn't understand your guide saying do not take pictures with a flash, I'm pretty sure you can read - and there's a huge sign IN ENGLISH at the entrance with instructions - like "Don't touch anything" and "Don't take flash pictures." There were even accompanying pictures to these instructions.

Soapbox over, and I won't go into even more detail how completely Nathan and I were embarrassed by our fellow countrymen (on the Fourth of July, no less), but I will say we had a serious sidebar discussion about pretending we were Canadian in order to distance ourselves from these folks. With the tour over, we'd planned to visit a nearby monastery, one of the biggest in southern Europe, but we were toured out and in need of some beach time. Around the mountains and to the sea we drove, landing in Santa Maria di Castellabate, mainly because the town sounded nice and has a two mile beach, key in this high traffic, beach season. Parking was a dream, and we were lying on the beach in no time - the sand a nice golden color, refreshing after the black sand beaches closer to home. It was already a bit late in the day with a brisk breeze blowing, so rather than a swim, we promptly fell asleep with our books turned face up on our bags. Upon waking and sitting up, staring groggily out at the sea, a man came up, asking if we spoke English. Upshot is that he is from Naples and used to have many American friends who have now moved away. He is looking for someone with whom he can practice his English. Hopefully, we can get together with him as we're hoping to make some connections with Italian families.

All in all, a pretty good Fourth of July - although I sure missed parades and picnics and flags flying everywhere. I didn't miss fireworks. We have fireworks here every night. That's not an exaggeration.

Long Delay

Oh how I wish I had a fabulous excuse for my long silence here. Something like traveling all over Italy, attending loads of local markets, or spending the days lounging by the Mediterranean (side note: we're actually on the Tyrrenhian Sea, but that's so much less interesting to type). Instead, I've been dieting. My first ever and extremely difficult. For a few days there, all I could think about was food. Have you ever watched the show Survivor? Invariably, each season, the players start talking about food, in detail. That's what I was like. I imagined sitting down with a bag of chips, pictured drinking a nice, cold glass of white wine, dreamed of eating the chocolate bar sitting on our hutch. Then I pictured the beaches here in Italy, full of women in bikinis. Now admittedly, Italian women here in the south are not as fit as what I think Americans imagine - the svelte beauty, limbs toned. But that's the media for you. Instead, Italian women aren't obsessed with covering up their body flaws - or maybe in this culture, extra pounds and stomachs curling over the tops of pants aren't considered flaws. I don't really know. Bikinis reign here, regardless of age or size. The nonnas (grandmothers) do put on full coverage bikinis, but that's about the extent of their concern.

I went to the beach last week, my first time this summer. This is a crying shame since we literally live one block from the beach, including a free beach and three pay beaches. I believe I've mentioned the beach culture before, but just to clarify, the beaches are lined with "beach clubs," places who clean the sand, have bathrooms, maybe a cafe or restaurant, and chairs/umbrellas for rent. Entry is somewhere from 3-10euros per person, with extra costs for chairs, umbrellas, and so on. Some clubs have pools, too, which is yet another cost. The pools, I have found out, are very important here because of water pollution. There is a sewage treatment plant about 20 minutes up the coast that routinely dumps sewage into the water. Our location is in a large bay, separated from the coastline by a couple of peninsulas, so my guess is that the water near our house is okay for swimming, given the water current. However, when we go to church on Sunday (our church is located on a huge stretch of beach heading up towards the plant), the beach is filled with families enjoying the day...and not a single person in the water. It's a little eery, actually. We're hoping to do some beach exploring this summer and kicked that off on the Fourth of July. More on our Fourth later, but I hope you all had a lovely holiday and that you ate lots of burgers, chips and brownies, which is what I dreamed of all day long.

Reason for Riposo

I have spent all winter hating riposo, that afternoon rest time when all the businesses close. It can begin anytime between noon-2pm and ends anytime from 3:30-6pm. Riposo has driven me batty. Everything closes - the grocer, the vet, the salumeria, the shops. Visiting small towns has been a special challenge. There have been times when we've arrived somewhere about 11am, done a slow walk to a restaurant, enjoyed a leisurely lunch, then headed off to visit the town's shops...and they're closed. So now, visiting towns for only a daytrip is more of a marathon to see it all before riposo shuts everything down.

But now, at last, I am on board with riposo. And the reason is summer. Most homes do not have air condition, so getting anything done is like swimming underwater. It is not just hot here. It is oxygen-sucking hot. I do not "glisten" in my house, I flat out sweat. The one saving grace is our rooftop, which gets somewhat of a cooling breeze.  Mornings and evenings are a wonderful, balmy temperature that makes me understand the phrase of air caressing skin. But afternoons, the battle is lost and I must retreat to higher ground. We are some of the few, lucky ones with air conditioning in our home, but they are small, electric wall units (not the window units that are more common in America). Two of our bedrooms have one; they're perfect for the small spaces and allow us to pay lots of money to the electric company in order to sleep at night. I've mentioned before the high cost of electricity being the reason for many homes not having dryers. Ditto for a/c and large, American style refrigerators. We also have one a/c unit for our living room which is open to the whole house, and I found that in the heat of the day, it's useless. Possibly because it's located right next to one of our sliding windows that has a four inch gap at the top of it where the window is undersized for the frame around it. As soon as it's not too hot to go to our garage and carry our ladder upstairs, I'm plugging that gap with a towel. But for now, it's time to lay down my battle weapons and have a little riposo.

Something I Never Expected

Back in April, Nathan and I strolled down to our local roundabout for a gelato. Our roundabout is sort of like our village's piazza, only filled with traffic. Edging the roundabout are businesses which include a newsstand, coffee bar/gelateria, pizzeria, salumeria (very small grocer), butcher, tabacchi, hair salon, and restaurant. The coffee bar has a large patio with tables, and the sidewalk of the road is edged with benches, the better to watch the traffic go by. It's surprisingly entertaining to sit on these benches and people watch the drivers. When my aunt and I did so, we saw a lady drive by with three dogs in her car, the one in the front seat had his head hanging out the window while the two in the back were sitting up very properly, both with heads turned to watch the world go by out of their respective windows. It's also fun to count how many cars go by with young children riding either in laps or just bouncing around on the backseat playing - definitely a unique sight for these American eyes. Across the street is the Metro stop and a large parking lot, empty until this month, when I found out the parking lot is not for all the trash usually heaped there, but is instead  for all the summertime beachgoers.

So back to mine and Nathan's stroll...the fence edging the parking lot usually has a banner of some sort hanging from it. Sometimes it's the same banner for months - usually the soccer ones are around awhile. Then there are political ones every now and then, advertising some candidate or other. This particular evening, we were struck by a banner that I never, ever, in a million years thought I would see half a world away from the U.S.:

Best of all are the words that you can't make out with the blog photo resolution, but it says, "The South Will Rise Again." We stood across the street, staring at this banner in absolute awe. We looked up and down the street as if we'd see who raised it. We looked at the store owners standing in their doorways, as they often do, to gauge if this sort of banner was acceptable. There were no clues anywhere. But it was yet another reminder of Italy's youth as a country and as a democracy, and their culture wars as the country grows. I write so much of the ancient history and culture that surrounds me here, but even more so, the modern problems of a growing country are the backdrop of daily life.

Until 1861, Italy was ruled by city-states and/or foreign countries. So 100 years after America became a democratic country, Italy's disparate parts joined together, ruled by a monarchy, then the Facist dictatorship, and finally, almost 90 years after unification, Italy became a republic in 1946. Prior to unification, southern Italy was powerful. The people were rich, cultured, smart, and basically, they were the cool kids. The northerners were considered the peasants and the laborers. Then, unification occurred, and the decades have brought us to today, where the north is considered the land of the educated, the people who know what's best, the rich and the powerful, while the southerners are the farmers, the hillbillies, and are considered to be very lazy. Any of this sounding at all familiar to anyone? Anyone? Now I don't pay close attention to the details of the Italian political culture, but I do know there is a group who wants a divided Italy, who essentially, wants the south to rise again. But what I really found interesting is thinking about the North/South divide in many countries and on a global scale. In considering many of the European countries, they have a similar culture war. Even more interesting, I put North vs. South into Wikipedia and found a great article on the global ramifications - across the globe, the developed, First World nations are in the north while the poorer, struggling nations are in the south (with Australia and New Zealand as exceptions). And so it seems the Weepies are correct...the world really does just spin madly on.

Living La Dolce Vita

You knew that phrase would have to come up sometime. I've resisted for months now, but today, it's time. This week has been my first truly "free" week in months. Nathan has even been gone (but will be home by the time this posts), so I had only to worry about myself and Crazy Dog - I could eat whatever I wanted (turns out, a person can live on bagels and wine), watch whatever I wanted on TV, spend as much time on the computer as I felt like, read in bed with the light on, all sorts of crazy things. I thought I would enjoy some time to really relax with no obligations. Turns out, not so much. I've spent all week reading Facebook posts by Nathan in Germany and my family back home on "our" annual vacation to the Florida Gulf Coast - they go every year, while Nathan and I just try to make it as often as possible. Quite frankly, I'm jealous. Flat out green with envy. Of all of them. Nathan is calling me with tales of his love for Germany and how we should move there in his post-Navy career. My aunt and cousins keep posting pictures of themselves at the beach, and I'm not in the pictures, while my aunt consoles me on the phone with possibly true tales of thunderstorms. But today, as I was organizing, editing, and labeling the photos my mom took while she was here visiting, I came across one she took of me. Then I remembered, life in Italy can be pretty good indeed:

Tuscany, A lounge chair, Wine, and a Kindle - what more does a girl need?

Finding More in Centro

Way back when, in my “wander around downtown Naples” early days, I blogged here about going into a church and finding that underneath it were some pretty spectacular Roman ruins. With our friends in town last week, I’d planned my normal “Tour of Centro,” to include Capella Sansevero for my favorite sculpture in the entire world, pizza at Sorbillo, then a little walk to catch a few churches. They were interested in churches and ruins, and I remembered this place, located only a couple of blocks from the pizzeria. Entering, we dutifully paid our 9euro entry fee (7euro with the ArteCard or for over 65), and once inside, I found a huge part of the Chiesa di San Lorenzo Maggiore complex that I’d missed on my prior stealth visit. There are two chapels with the most amazing frescoed ceilings. One lights up with motion sensors when you enter, and the lights start out dim as you walk forward, gazing raptly at the ceiling. By the time you reach the altar, the lights are full strength, and you can then turn to see the majesty of the ceiling.

So in answer to a question I’m constantly asking myself, “Nope, not tired of frescoes yet.” I admit to being a little jaded to the churches. They’re all just so beautiful that they sort of run together. But frescoes never wear me down. I love all of them, from the intricate ceilings to the cutest, little bird in a corner.

At Villa Ariana, Castellammare di Stabia

The second chapel has vaulted ceilings and yet another frescoed ceiling in a completely different style. We spent quite awhile in both chapels just in awe. Then, heading below ground to the ruins, I was reminded of just how amazing they are and how these sorts of things most likely exist underneath every structure in centro. There are several hallways that visitors can wander at will, up a few stairs here to yet another section, down this dead end tunnel, ending at a large floor mosaic to enjoy, and down another hallway with barrel arches still in place, until finally, we climbed more stairs through the ruins and up to modern day street level. The actual church was closed for the afternoon, which just leaves for something else wonderful to see on my next visit.

Berry Bounty

Back in late fall/early winter, we found ourselves overwhelmed with oranges. Big oranges, little oranges, oranges dripping from trees, even wild oranges that are too sour to eat - that's right, this country has so many orange trees that many of them aren't even tended and have just been allowed to grow wild. Our landlady brought over bags and bags of clementines. We bought bags and bags of clementines. And this was my introduction to becoming a locavore. I read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver a few years ago after hearing her give a reading in Floyd, Virgina. That book is one of those change your life books - I didn't change mine radically, but her words and her message resonate with me even now, half a decade later. I still talk about this book all the time. The upshot is that she, her husband, and their two daughters moved from the southwest to a farm in VA, where for one year, they ate food that was grown within a certain radius of their home (something like 60 miles). I loved the premise and how the family lived it out. Here in Italy, as long as we shop in town rather than on base, we can't help but become locavores. The produce stands are full of what is in season, not what is grown in hothouses countries away and shipped to our location. And the bounty is wonderful and cheap, cheap, cheap! While I seemed to pay more back in the U.S. for food with the locally grown label, here, prices really reflect supply and demand.

This was just a small orange purchase - it cost us 36 cents

In December, we ate oranges. I asked my friend, K., if she thought we'd be able to get oranges after the season was over. She said then that she imagined something just as wonderful would come along to make me forget about the oranges. And so it has been. We had artichokes in the spring. And this month, it's the strawberries. Big, juicy strawberries and itty, bitty sweet ones. They're so plentiful, that we buy them in cases, not little pint containers. Thankfully, I purchased a canning kit prior to moving to Italy, although I've yet to pull it out. But strawberry season is calling to my canning kit. Nathan and I have been having some Bubba from "Forrest Gump" moments where we just call out things we can do with the strawberries - strawberry jam, berry smoothies, strawberry martinis. I can't wait to see what sort of bounty comes next.

This huge case was only 3 euros

Something New

 The day I dropped Mom off at the airport, I picked up two friends for our last set of visitors until early fall. These friends were on a tour of the Amalfi Coast for seven days, but had added some days on the beginning and end, which gave us some time together. Their first couple of days, we stayed in our Campi Flegrei region, exploring all the ruins nearby. As it turned out, they'd recently read Robert Harris's excellent historical fiction book, Pompeii, which is set in Baia/Bacoli/Capo Miseno, right down the road from our house. Even better, the book centers on the head engineer for the aqueduct running through this area and ending at the Piscina Mirabile, that large cistern I blogged about back in March. Our friends shared some of the book's plotline with me, which prompted me to head straight home and grab it off the shelf. What a great, alternative look at the area's history rather than just walking around some ruins.

Their tour had a free day near the end, so we arranged to meet-up for a daytrip. At the suggestion of their tour leader, they suggested we visit the excavations of two villas, Villa Ariana and Villa San Marco, located in a town south of Pompeii called Castellammare di Stabia (known only as Stabiae in the ancient times). Interestingly, the book Pompeii has a large end scene set in Stabiae, and by the time of this trip, I'd read the book as well. All three of us were able to remember bits of the book and apply them to what we were seeing. We set off for Castellammare and only spent 30 minutes lost in the thick of town, complete with one lane streets full of parked cars on one side and pedestrians on the other and speeding vespas. After finally finding Villa San Marco, we saw that it was well worth the time spent lost in town.

There are seven known villas in that area covered by the Vesuvius ash. Only two have been excavated, and both are ongoing projects. The villas sit on a high hill, with a fully developed plain in front of them reaching down to the sea. Today, between the villas and the sea are acres upon acres of multi-story apartment buildings crammed together, a bustling carpet of thousands of lives. At the time of the eruption however, these villas were waterfront property, complete with entrances from the sea. We parked and begin walking a path toward private homes, turned a corner to a little office and picked up our mandatory guide provided by the site (free, but a little tip is appreciated), then walked through some people's yards to get to the entrance.

Down a few steps, and we entered ancient Roman life. This villa is phenomenal and seems more like a palace. Our guide assured us that the prevailing theory is still that the villa belonged to only one family, and even better, they were from Rome, meaning this was a vacation home. We walked along what would have been their seaside terrace, then through rooms upon rooms, many with large, intact frescoes, saw their kitchen and living rooms, their grand entrance for guests coming by land, the afternoon parlor for the ladies, and two swimming pools, one of which was rimmed with carbonized tree stumps and newer trees replanted by the sites of the old ones. What made this villa so remarkable to visit was it's up close look at how the Romans lived. With a personal guide to answer all our questions (Italian only...but it went surprisingly well) and no other visitors, we really got to see a place in depth, to imagine the ladies in their afternoon parlor, to picture the powerful and rich owner striding down the columned and frescoed loggia, and to think of the servants, who lived in the section with the horse stables. While I love Herculaneum and Pompeii, those places are both so full of things to see that the sites themselves can overwhelm and the data intake can just be too much. Villa San Marco was a hit will all of us. The second villa was very interesting, but the villa itself is much smaller and is laid out with a bunch of individual rooms opening off of one long terrace - so we walked by rooms as if we were walking down a museum corridor - interesting, not as much as Villa San Marco. I also had a terrible time understanding our guide at Villa Ariana, so that also detracted from our experience. We finished up at the villas and then had a great lunch at a tiny little place we happened upon - it was mid-afternoon, and all other restaurants and pizzerias were closed. The family who owned the restaurant was fascinated with us - the matron of the restaurant finally asked, as we were leaving, why we were there. We may have been some of the only American tourists they've ever had.

As a side note, Castellammare di Stabia is the town that tried, last year, to ban miniskirts, playing soccer in the piazzas, and cursing. I don't remember now if I ever blogged about that, but it was big news right after we arrived here. I'm still not sure if the town council actually passed the proposals, but I did not wear a miniskirt, just in case.

Mom Finale

We had a great visit with my mom, and while we'd planned to do a little more beach lounging, we still managed to have a good combination of relaxation and sightseeing. Here are a couple of my favorite Mom pics that didn't make the previous posts:

Dinner of meats, cheeses, olives, cherries and wine - yumm!

Movie Star Mom having lunch in Cortona

Tuscany Wrap-Up

 We spent our final, full day in Tuscany in Siena, that gorgeous, rolly city, with streets that curve and turn back upon themselves, a campo famous throughout the world and considered one of the best piazzas in Italy, and a zebra striped Duomo with the most vibrant frescoes around. After finally working things out with our landlady regarding the dog, we intended to leave Scully behind. He was having none of that. For the only time in his entire life, he went into hysterics when we left, complete with high-pitched, loud barking that just would not stop. And so, Scully went to Siena, too. Since I'd seen the Duomo and Museum just a couple of months ago, Scully and I set up camp on the church steps, him with the adoration of every passerby and me with my Kindle. I don't know how Nathan and Mom's visit to the Duomo and Museum went, but Scully and I had a fantastic morning. We moved along the steps with the sun, always staying in the shadow. I continually cleared cigarette butts from each new location - Crazy Dog got his moniker by many of his personality traits, one of which is his severe nicotine addiction. He attracted kids and adults throughout the morning, so I had near continuous conversation. In addition, after the first hour went by, a nearby deli owner took Scully under his wing and began bringing out pieces of baguette and bottles of water. After the second hour, we'd moved up to cheese. Sadly, this nice man gave all of the food directly to the dog. After Mom and Nathan joined me for a picnic lunch on the Duomo steps and they'd finished up their visits to the church, museum, baptistry, and the panoramic viewpoint overlooking the city (in the museum), Nathan took over Scully duty and headed to the Campo, where the two of them took a little nap.

Mom and I shopped - or tried to, but many of the shops were closed. The biggie for me, the Pratesi shoe outlet, was open, and with Mom's birthday gift help, I got my first pair of Italian leather boots. So gorgeous!!! After all shopping was finished, we met up back at the Campo, where Scully again proved his nickname is justified by flipping the back of my skirt up with his head. Now, all of Siena and her tourists know exactly what color my underwear was that day. Crazy dog.

Our day to return home was a long, but active day, per usual. We drove the Crete Senese, a road south of Siena that has the most gorgeous views of Tuscany I could have ever imagined! Sometimes, places don't look like the movies. Tuscany looks exactly like it does in the movies. Green and yellow hills, cypress trees dotting the sky, stone farmhouses placed so picturesquely that it seems a film producer had to be involved. Nathan and his uncle are biking through Tuscany this fall, so the drive gave us a great opportunity to scout out the region...except that Nathan kept saying, "This will have to be on our route," and said it so often that I think it all has to be on the planning route. There didn't seem to be a single place where I heard, "Well this is no good."

From the Crete Senese drive, we stopped in at Montalcino, first visiting a wine store outside of town which included a long visit with the friendly, knowledgeable owner (Francesca at Enoteca Fontepreci) and then a winery she recommended, Mozart Winery (aka Il Paradiso). Both were great stops for Nathan to get more information, tastes, and purchases of the local, hotshot wine, the Brunello. In Montalcino, we had a casual, delicious lunch at the wine cafe located in the town's old fort. This is the first cafe in a fort I've come across and what a great setting! A quick browse through town, all wine shop all the time, and then on to Montepulciano.

Montepulciano was another town I fell in love with, and not only because it's where Twilight's New Moon was filmed. The facade architecture of the cathedral was fascinating and unique, resembling a crumbling log cabin, yet made of stone. Montepulciano is all hills, and as Nathan commented on departure, it was uphill both ways to our car - I don't know how, but he's actually not wrong. We were anxious to get on the road to get home before it got too late, so Montepulciano only got a quick perusal from us, but it goes on our list of places to return for a longer look.

Living in a Beach Town

Today, you get two blog posts...
It's almost 11pm and some sort of rave seems to be going on in our village piazza. I don't know this for sure because I can't see it from my house. You'd think I would have noticed the music when it started, but only subconsciously. My real awareness came when the man speaking (shouting) over the microphone said the word, "tonight." That's right - 30 minutes of discotheque music didn't phase me, but one English word grabbed hold. I would love to go down to the party, mingle, eat gelato, have a drink, but did I mention it's 11pm? That's the old fogey in my talking. I'm probably going to head down there and check it out, if for no other reason than to lay eyes on an apparent outdoor discotheque going on in the middle of the week. I love living in a tourist town. No really, I do. Despite the fact that our weekends are now spent fighting traffic both in and out of our town - beachgoers on their way further out the peninsula, where the best beach clubs are. Despite the rumors that our coffee bar is soon to be completely overrun and packed at all times. Goodbye any chance I had at becoming a "local" by repetitious visits for morning coffee. We must have moved in at the perfect time, just as winter was settling into the region and families holed up at home for their long winter nights. But now, doors are thrown open, cafes have sprung up out of seemingly direlict buildings, days are filled with the nearby shouts of families at the beach, and this is the second rave of the week (and it's only Wednesday!). Our little piazza (read, traffic congested roundabout) has truly come to life, and I'm enjoying the vibrancy. Fireworks just ended (they're a nightly occurance now) and "I Gotta Feeling" by the Black-Eyed Peas is playing. And now, we dance...

Tales of Tuscany

Staying outside of Siena put us smack in the middle of gorgeous Tuscany, meaning the whole region was open to us. While I do want to visit some of the more out of the way towns, we decided that for this trip, we should see some of the biggies first. This led us to our first day's visit to Cortona, the town written about by Frances Mayes. Her fabulous books, best I can tell, put the town on the tour bus map (Under the Tuscan Sun, Bella Tuscany, and my personal favorite, Every Day in Tuscany). And lovely it is.

We approached from the flatlands and saw this beautiful city cutting into the hillside, complete with towers and the deep red rooftiles atop sandy colored buildings, colors so prolific in this region. I fell in love with Cortona, but that was probably due to the beautiful, blue skies that formed such a perfect backdrop for both the town views and the panoramic views of the countryside. Or it could have been because we visited on market day, always a fun treat, or that there was a medieval festival of sorts going on, filling the town with medieval costumed performers and making it so easy for us to cross the line of time between past and present. I even lucked into a shop with a clerk who wanted to chat...in Italian! I love it when that happens! After a delicious lunch on the main drag in town and another quick spin through town and to the Duomo (church), we headed back to our hotel to drop off our dog and on to San Gimignano for a visit and dinner.

San Gimignano's Towered Skyline

San Gimignano is a real favorite of mine. It's the only Tuscan town to retain so many of it's medieval towers, 14 still standing of it's original 60+. This makes for a fantastic skyline. Rick Steves writes that San Gimignano is given over wholly to tourism, and I suppose I found that to be true. But just walking those cobbled streets beneath the towers and climbing up to the fortress and the uneven, rock staircase to look out over those same towers...magical. With most of these little towns, activities are limited. They are small, filled with shops (some good, some typical tourist tchotch), have a church or two, maybe a civic museum, and several restaurants and cafes. We didn't visit every church and museum and shop, but we wandered, we enjoyed. Wild boar, cinghiale, is king here, and shops are filled with boar related items, advertised with boar heads hanging off their outer walls. Shops were for tourists, and I don't think we passed a single store dedicated to "real life," but still, San Gimignano is a wonderful visit.

Piazza of San Gimignano

On the way to Tuscany

After nine months in Italy and about the same number of trips back and forth to Rome, we finally had the chance to take the little detour off the freeway to Subiaco Abbey. At least I thought it was a little detour. At the end of the day, it actually took about three hours, but it was three hours well worth it to see this amazing, 6th century monastery rising out of the cliff with an interior completely covered in frescoes. St. Benedict holed up in a cave here for a few years, founding the abbey, before moving down the mountains and founding the abbey at Montecassino (of WWII fame). We were headed up to Siena, only a four hour drive away, so we had some spare time for me to cross Subiaco off my list. Parking at the bottom of the hill, we walked up, up, up, then entered through a narrow, twisty staircase to a little piazza next to the abbey. The engineering of the building is fascinating as it's built on top of Benedict's cave and the walls seem to just grow out of the rock. Since we had Scully with us, we took turns going in. Mom and I visited first, and after passing the monk at the entrance, there were no other monks around, no arrows pointing the way, nothing. We visited the chapel next to the entrance, peered down a hall that seemed to be admin offices and rejoined Nathan to take over dog watch. Nathan disappeared for quite awhile, then came out with a confused look on his face, saying, "You know there's a whole lot more than that chapel, right? And was there ever! At the back of the chapel is a staircase down into Fresco Wonderland, complete with St. Benedict's cave, a tucked away staircase up to a small chapel, and more stairs down a Rose Garden and some exterior frescoes. In this land of frescoes, Subiaco is king. Sadly, no photos allowed - but I did take one of this warning, located outside the entrance door:

No Hussies Allowed

Continuing on to Siena and our hotel, we dropped off the dog at the hotel and headed into Siena for dinner. When I visited with my friend back in February, we'd lucked into this fabulous restaurant. Locals sitting next to us informed us that this restaurant was one of the two best in Siena...and gave us the name of the other one. We headed to this other one, Tre Cristi, for dinner, especially after reading rave reviews on Trip Advisor. It was very good, but none of us would classify it as our best meal. With one big "but"...absolutely the best grappa we've ever tasted. Grappa we've never even imagined existing. Grappa that tastes like butter. Grappa that we've now been completely unsuccessful in tracking down to pick up a few bottles ourselves, so if anyone knows where to buy 10 Year Reserve La Centenara by Aquileia, let me know! 

The best part of the evening was getting to the Campo right at dusk, that magic hour when the buildings glow.