La Lingua

Can you imagine approaching a stranger in the U.S. and asking "scusi, parle Italiano?", especially if you were anywhere but in the Bronx?  I'm certain that the answer would be "huh?" and don't even think it would be worth the breath.

So, I am always amazed at how many Italians speak English and how well they do.

I struggle with the language.  Just told Joe last night that it is interesting how well I do with my "words" and even nowadays my "sentences" when not in the presence of a native speaker and while nowhere even vaguely near this country. I can formulate thoughts, plot them out, and clearly speak them in my head in....going out on a limb here.....perfect Italian.  Maybe I should make a few videos to prove to myself that I can do that.  Maybe I can just use the videos when in Italy, as my little voice boxes because when I am here, the words simply get in the way. Joe says it has to do with becoming worried about making a mistake.

Another point about the use of language makes me realize that I am not in my Mother-land.  Here, men actually ASK directions.  Yes, they do.  And at least twice a day, I am approached by an Italian man, who, in Italian asks ME how to get to a specific place.  Fortunate for me, most of the requests are to major churches.  I must look like a holy Italian or maybe even a nun.  So, I've actually gotten fairly good at giving directions. Hand gestures help a lot too, especially in directing.  Especially in Italy.

"Scusi, Senora.  Dove tomba San Francesco?"

"Scusi, Senora.  Dove casa San Francesco?"

"Scusi, Senora. Dove Basilica?"

"Scusi, Senora. Dove Santa Chiara?"

There's a pattern to this that makes it oh, so much easier for this senora. Assisi is a small hill town with an upper (sopra) part,  a central (piazza del Comune) part, and a lower (sotto) part. Each part is anchored down with at least one major landmark. So, all you have to add to that are the words, "dritto" or "straight", "destra" or "right", and "sinistra", left.  "Vicino" also becomes a handy word, meaning "in the area..nearby" and it allows one to be vague but at least not too misleading.

Add arm movements and an air of confidence to the conversation and it might sound like this...

"Alora, dritto e sinistra, dritto e destra e, bah, in vicino.  Arriverderci"

My father was also very good at this type of thing.  He was a cop on a beat in New York.  Countless times each day, he would be asked for directions and he could not have cared less about what language who was speaking.  He held fast on the use of his own language.  He said it was all very easy for him because no matter who asked, no matter how complicated the route to the final destination requested, he always had the same (and to his way of thinking, correct) answer. In. Perfect. English.

"STRAIGHT AHEAD".

My father, the Italian teacher.

Or maybe I just look like a cop?

Santa Maria della Rose

Above, the Alpha, below, Omega

It's known as "MARIA" and it is an exhibition of sacred sculptural artwork of the Italian artist Guido Dettoni della Grazia.  The work is a permanent exhibition, stunningly installed in the 16th Century Church of Santa Maria delle Rose on a quiet street in the upper section of Assisi.

The installation is based upon hand-sized sculptures, a total of thirty-three (for each year in the life of Jesus), encased individually in lighted glass cylinders that hang from a round steel frame. The tiny sculptures, each made from a different of the Earth's woods, are planted in soil. Overhead one sees in the frame the letter "A" representing "Alpha" and below, the form of "O" for "Omega".

Adjacent to the circular exhibit is a large marble sculpture, beautiful in its simplicity and breathtaking in its elegance. Inside the circle, on a table, lie several white marble sculptures, intended to be picked up and held by visitors.  A guide encourages this and carefully explains that each depicts the life of Mary as it is manipulated in the hand.  With grace and reverence, she demonstrates, using her own hand, how the sculpture fits into the palm.  We are invited to be fully involved by touching, smelling the fragrance of the trees of Mallorca, looking closely and feeling the shape and its subtle changes that evoke the feeling that we have a uniquely meaningful life in our own hands if only for a few moments.

Different angles allow one to distinguish significant moments in the life of Mary. Genuflecting, carrying the pitcher to the well, pregnant with her child, Jesus, Mother and child, and finally, seen from a horizontal perspective, she becomes the Dove of Peace.

Mini-Me

The city of Perugia, Italy has approximately 529 thousand fewer residents than the city of Boston, Massachusetts, according to the 2018 census.  It has lots of newer high-rise (for this part of the country) apartment buildings in its surrounds and is probably best known for its older parts, all of which are way, way uphill.  The first time we attempted to get to the Centro by car, we simply could not do it.  We drove around and around, unable to find a space to park.  We abandoned our plans. Sadly.  Fast forward to the present time. The problem was solved in 2008.

A few trips ago, an Umbrian-resident friend suggested that we try again.  Only this time, another of those wonderful secrets that keep us returning to the region was revealed.  "Park your car in the big, free lot and take the Minimetro up into the center" was her advice.  Una donna geniale.  A genius, that woman!

More about the charming city of Perugia later. It was early on our list of places to be in Umbria because the train station was the drop off center for our rental car. That's a whole other story.  We are carless and fancy-free now.  Happiness comes by foot. With an umbrella.  That's also a whole other story, one that hopefully, will have a happy ending one of these days.

So, I re-introduced Joe to the Mini and off we went, up, up and up to the top or "centro" of Perugia, after making four of the seven stops that the tiny cars briefly make.  The cars are small and they keep on coming so there's never a stampede to catch one and entrances and exits are done with civility and efficiency.  When all the stops have been completed, the tiny cars go around a bend and start all over on the  gleaming rail.  Miss your stop, catch it on the next pass. Toddlers love this stuff.  Nonnas love this stuff.
Take a cranky grandchild on the mini and you've rescued the day. While it is not an amusement park ride, it still is fun.  Too bad kids just take it for granted.  We sit on our seats in total amazement as we imagine zipping up Route 3 from Quincy to downtown Boston. Or is this another of those "Only in Italy" happenstances that we see happening every day? While in Italy.

Ciao!

Festa di Tutti Santi

Standing in the security line at Logan Airport Thursday afternoon, I remarked to Joe that the feelings I used to have at that point, the first step in the departure to Italy, did not feel the same as it used to. I used to be balloon-like, the tiny bits of air entering as I stepped out of the car onto the airport pavement.  Now, I enter with the balloon full.  I no longer have that kiddie-before-the-party feeling. Kind of sad in a way. But also kind of good because I embark with the wisdom that many previous journeys have conferred and that, that feeling of confidence and bravery is what gets us from Point A to Point B and allows for the rapid shift in attitude and lifestyle that it takes to enter a country and arrive in a small town on the first day of an Italian holiday weekend.

Picture Cape Cod.  It's Friday, July third of a very good year.  One in which the weather has so far been perfect.  See, in your mind, cars, bumper to bumper, all going in the same direction, all at the same time.....and triple it.

The flight over was uneventful.  The wait for our car rental agreement to be completed, long and for what reason, I don't know but it always takes a long time to rent a car at the airport in Rome.  While I am not a "car" person, I do look forward to the end result and after the wait, to see what kind of Italian, death-defying, quirky car we are getting for the weekend. This time, the wait paid off for Joe in the form of an Alfa Romeo Giulia, the very car he and our son have been sharing sighs over for the past few years. Good thing it's roomy and comfortable.  We spent a heck of a lot of time in it yesterday. Again, that picture of the Friday of Fourth of July weekend.

So, throw in the holiday of Festa di Tutti Santi (All Saints - the day after the gruesome celebration of the dead, Halloween), add a bit of olive oil harvest, new wine and chestnuts and the love of a good time, and you can start to imagine how, after hours in traffic getting here, the little town of Assisi was overflowing with celebrants.  People and cars, everywhere. This weekend, for the tourist industry in Umbria, is tantamount to Labor Day in the States.  After this, the show will be over for a while.  After this, the peace and quiet that makes Umbria so inviting to us, will be back.  But for now, it's time to join in the celebrations.  We're here.  We're getting our Assisi legs back. We will need them for this hill town!  Joe is thrilled to be a part of the life that I have described for him each time I returned home from my solo stays here.  This time, we are once again Two For the Road, no matter how filled those roads, ready and willing to be a part of the action or the tranquility, together.  And together, we will be making more memories and remembering that life is a journey, fifty years (almost) together is worth celebrating, and that we have weeks ahead of us that surely will be filled with the stuff that makes it all worth the hours in.

So, we're off to the supermarket today and to a harvest celebration followed by a birthday party.

Andiamo!

Packing

For weeks, friends have been asking us if we are packing.  The answer, "yes, we started weeks ago".

We are as ready as we are going to be, evidenced by the two large, opened suitcases that take up a whole lot of valuable space in our bedroom and den at the moment.  It's a routine that I know well.  Fill up with what you think you need, items that you believe you can't live without, and then remove most of them lest the suitcase will exceed the fifty pound limit. In, out, in, out.  The drill.

Preparing for a long trip always reminds me of a writing exercise.  The art of packing a suitcase for a five week jaunt across the ocean is so much like the art of preparing for life itself.  I used to use the metaphor when my son was a newly graduated young man, floundering around, trying to get his life started on his own.  My motherly defense guard would spring into action during those moments of weakness when we questioned whether he would ever get going in the "right" direction. My self-medicating answer always was "it's hard to pack for a trip if you don't know where you're going".....

Good shoes, suitable for walking over unknown terrains, as well as known.  Ups and downs, twists and turns.  Hiking poles are the first items to go into the suitcase.  They lie on the bottom.  We don't carry them.  The can't be mistaken for weaponry.  We wear our hiking shoes, the heavy ones.  We've already lived in those shoes and know they are capable and strong so they never stay home.

Comfortable clothing makes the cut over "fancy dress".   We've learned that with good "basics", appearances can be manipulated.  Scarves weigh practically nothing and totally change the look.  Black, black and more black.  If you're good on the inside, it doesn't take much to tweak the outside.

I used to drag cosmetics along but over the years and after many trips, I have come to realize that most items weigh too much and most of them are totally un-necessary.  Italian supermarkets are up to speed on their selection of "health and beauty" products and what we need, we can easily purchase.
That is, if we "need" anything.  Here again, it's what's inside that counts.  If one wants to feel "well", a large bottle of shampoo isn't the answer.  My beauty was packed a long time before those hiking poles and will last me the duration of this trip.

So, our bags are packed.  We just have to zip them up.  After we throw in a few "cold remedies" and muscle creams.

Life is filled with unknowns.  It's too hard to pack a bag if you don't really know where you're headed but it's also hard to pack when you do know where you're headed.  There comes a day when you just have to trust that you really do have all that you need, that you are capable of making do with less and trusting that each day will work out just fine with what you brought.

Wheels Up in two more days.  Joe has a cold.  This should be very interesting..........

Re-Connection

"Is it our age?"  She wrote.

Last week, I popped a quick note off to my friend Janet.  I don't use the word "friend" loosely here. Janet and I have shared the gift since our days as Brownie scouts.  Our gift has spread itself out over the span of almost seventy years.  We, and our friends Lori and Kel, have proven that one does not have to see one's friends regularly to know of their existence.  When we do get together, we know that we have been blessed many times over.  Following the exchange of emails, we decided to actually have a phone conversation.  Remember those? And so, the following morning, we did just that and we caught up on life since our last conversation.

During our phone call, we talked about re-connections that each of us has made recently.  Other friends with whom we are once again in contact after long gaps and various activities we have done, alone or with others, highlighting those done with the newly-reconnected.  We also spent a lot of time discussing books we have read, something that we hadn't done in forever.

The book discussion in itself reminded us of our bond.  We discovered that our reading choices were similar and our interests identical.  I don't know why this struck me as a revelation.  After all, aren't similar interests part of the fabric that glues friendships?  In our case, it was glorious to find the affirmation, to then follow up with sharing lists of suggestions for future reading and future discussions.

Yesterday, a group of newer "old" friends gathered.  This group of twelve first met six years ago. Our bonding material was "creativity".  Every month, we got together and presented our interpretation of a simple word.  Our first word was "sunset".  Unfortunately, due to time and other commitments, we stopped meeting and a few years passed since our first. So, it was time to re-connect and like magic,
most of the members were able to attend and over lunch we revelled in just being together and finding out what each has been doing in her life.  Naturally, we had many laughs and naturally, the consensus was that another get-together was needed some time soon.

Is it our age?  More than likely. I think of life as a gift.  One that surely keeps on giving. Maybe life is a fire, one that constantly needs fuel to stay alive.  We keep connecting and, fortunately, reconnecting as we are presented with the gift over and over again.  We watch the sparks spring out of the fire and catch them, one by one.  The kindle, long having been burned, we throw larger logs into that fire and we sure as hell can't let it die.

If you haven't re-connected with someone, it's not too late.  Don't let your fire burn out and don't forget to say thank you to your Higher Power today.

THE BEAUTIFUL WOMEN OF THE CREATIVE CHATTERS GROUP

Shoulder Season

On a wall in the hall that enters my bedroom hangs a favorite photo.  It's so beautiful in its simplicity. A black and white, taken behind a row of modest cottages bordering the sea somewhere on the beautiful Prince Edward Island, sometime in the fifties.

The photo captures a strong and handsome young father.  Seated high on his capable right shoulder is a little girl with windswept hair falling down over her face. Both appear to be happy and proud of each other.  A father and a daughter on a carefree holiday at the beach.  A Summer season day that they thought surely would never end. A moment in time that now remains frozen in that photo for ever and ever.

So many seasons have come and gone.  I scarcely know those people in the photo any longer. Time swept in and like the wind that blew my hair over my face, took with it our youth and replaced it with days that have grown longer and years, shorter.

Seasons come and go swiftly but for me and my dad, it will always be shoulder season.