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JANUARY 2007
January 1
We arrive home from our Cappo D'Anno festa around 2AM after cleaning up with the group, and it takes until almost 3AM to get into bed. So although our intentions are honorable, we forego this morning's mass at 10AM with Don Fabio, recently returned from his work in Romania.
Today is a special day for Romania and also Bulgaria, for they have conditionally been admitted to the European Union. Every six months they will have to report, as if to the principal, the progress on a number of financial and economic fronts. For now, I imagine the two young Romanian women in our village, here as caretakers of elderly residents, are celebrating.
We arise at around 11AM, and return to the "club" at l'una for pranzo, consisting of Gigliola's delicious homemade ravioli and a special salad, plus leftovers from last night's meal. Most of the meal is heated up on the tiny stufa in the main room, so not everything is hot. But it is tasty, and with a few additions to our group, a lot of fun.
After pranzo, with Sofi resting in my arms like a portable heater, we stand at one of the windows facing the street, and look out at the valley, all dark and grey, with not a person to be seen. The world outside seems to be sleeping...the beginning of a long rest. Overhead the clouds are dirty and dark and menacing. Inside it is cold, but outside it is not so. With lots of wind, I expect a winter storm as a harbinger of a very cold winter ahead.
We drive home for a few minutes, and to drop off Sofi, and then drive on to Viterbo for a concert in the Teatro. There is not much traffic, but the doors are full of women dressed in minks (Italians love their furs) and as we enter the lobby there is much pushing, pushing.
Italians, especially Italian women, think they must push in a crowd. The experience is frustrating, and many times we just let them through. I have never seen an acknowledgement, for the expression is always the same...a blind focus on the final destination as if it is some kind of valhalla.
"Mine! Mine!" they seem to say to themselves. Women are seen with hands on their husbands' shoulders, pushing, pushing. I cannot figure out why there is a need to push; when the doors open there'll be plenty of time to sit before the performance begins.
Pia has kindly given us tickets, and we sit in boxes to the right of the stage, leaning over on velvet cushions. There are no guardrails at this theatre, and we're wondering who will join us in our box. A few minutes later Pia arrives by herself, and the three of us chat and then enjoy the performance.
Tonight's performance is the Sinfonia Giovanile di Viterbo, with an important guest director from Vienna, Eduard Melkus. Our friend Daniela is first chair of the cellos, and it appears that tonight a number of "pros" are joining the group of young musicians.
Tonight's final piece is the Radetzky-Marsh, and everyone knows to clap along with the chorus. Following right on the heels of the Blue Danube, the audience already clapping, we know just how to clap, and the clapping gets faster and faster with the Director egging us on.
And then it is over, with everyone walking off the stage and a "brindisi", or toast, ready for us downstairs. Upon recalling the scene of people cramming around earlier, we choose to leave, so thank Pia and find our way to the car.
Earlier, during the intermission, Pia suggests that we have a Carnevale festa in Mugnano. She enjoyed last night so much that she thinks we should continue in party mode. For the rest of the performance I am wondering what costumes the Festaroli would wear. I'm already sure that we should wear costumes in a group, and then figure it out: we will be a field of sunflowers.
I already know how I will make the costumes, with wires and crepe paper and fun little caps. We'd enter the door from the kitchen en masse, and perhaps we can get young Valerio to dress as a bee. My mind is racing, as usual.
So after a few minutes at home we scoop up "piccola" and take her to the "club", where Mauro and Laura and Livio and Gigliola and a few figli and a couple of friends are already enjoying the leftovers, mostly cooked on the little stufa in the main room.
Everyone is crowded around the little stove, for it is cold, and wood is brought in and shoved inside every few minutes. The drapes are closed, to keep out a little cold, and we sit around eating bruschetta with liver pate, except for Giuliola and me.
I won't get near the liver and eat plain bruschetta with green olive oil. Gigliola just sits by the fire next to me, dreaming of staying in bed all day tomorrow. There are leftover lenticche and cottechino and salsiche and plenty of panettone. Laura tells us that we can't leave until it's all finished.
We ignore her gentle threats, telling her to throw the rest of the food out, like the Italians throw their old washing machines out the windows on New Year's Eve. I think that custom has passed, and that there are even laws prohibiting that crazy custom.
We love getting to know the paisanis, and there are many in this village, as well as friends who arrive to spend time during the holidays. I can't get an image out of my mind of one particular woman, very sweet, who eats food from a plastic knife in one hand and a fork in the other, shoveling one after another into her mouth almost daintily, as if what she is doing is perfectly correct. That sound you hear is Galateo thumping as he turns over in his grave. I can hear Loredana gasping in horror, just at the thought of the woman daintily thrusting a knife laden with food into her opened mouth, her "pinky" raised as if it's all very proper.
We say goodbye for now and walk home, looking forward to a night of sleep and hopefully no pain for Dino.
January 2
After sleeping in, we stop at Fedora's for "capuccias" (cappuccinos) and drive on to Viterbo to drop off food containers at the caterers, giving them high marks for the excellent food for this Sunday's festa. We'll surely use them again.
Nostalgia overcomes us, and we shop across the street at the same COOP that we credit as the first supermarket we shopped at nine years ago, for pots and many things for our house that we still use. Those were memorable days, full of excitement and wonder at this strange culture, strange language, and even stranger bureaucracy. We take most of it all in stride now.
We stop at Klimt for a roll of drawing paper and gesso. the chalks I'll use for pastels. I'm not a fan of pastels, but Marco wants me to experience the style. We pick up a set of them, and I'll experiment with them this week.
At home after pranzo, I set up the easel in the kitchen while Dino drives to Soriano to pay for our annual medical insurance, but the office is closed. He returns to find me drawing away, two ballerinas in a studio.
I want to draw the toe shoes and the ballerinas show up as an afterthought, then I draw in the barre and long mirror along one wall. Now I'll have to figure out how to draw the mirror images....That will be fun.
I'm not afraid of drawing faces or hands or feet, but don't really like human subjects. Since Marco wants me to do a still life and pastels, I think I'll draw a red caftan on a hook, flanked by one on either side in duller colors. It will give me the excuse to practice drawing and then painting folds of fabric.
After thumbing through a magazine, I notice the door of the cabinet beside the sofa partly open. I move my arm to shut it and instead fling it open. Dino asks me what I am doing.
My eyes are drawn to the gray inside of the door, and six or seven pots and measuring cups and funnels and forbice hanging from hooks. What an excellent still life that would make!
And then in the magazine, a luminous and fat radicchio rests against a cabbage and two heads of lettuce, the light reflecting behind them from a lamp on a nearby counter. Another idea. And then a simple dark wooden table with a basket piled high with oranges. There are so many things to paint. Now people seem boring compared to the wondrous colors of nature.
Not wanting to overtax my shoulders, I stop for the day, filling my brain with images to dream of. Tomorrow let's draw and then paint the caftans and then the vegetables in giant sizes, big and bold and beautiful.
Dino calls Paola and makes a date for tomorrow night to meet with Antonio and Paola about our ideas for the bringing together of the disparate groups within the village as winter turns into spring and our year on the festarolo committee comes to an end.
I'm thinking I want to return to San Remy de Provence, and if Candida and Franco still want to go to France, we can rent a house for a week there so that I can paint and Dino and Candida and Franco can ramble about. They we can take a few days to travel about.
After running the idea by Dino he agrees so we think we'll do that instead of traveling to Puglia or Sicily, taking trips there some other time. We already have the dates booked with Angie, so why not?
That reminds me. I need to call Pascale. I will surely take at least one lesson from her. Perhaps Candida will want to do something as well...
I have a flash about the May festa, and Dino and I talk about featuring a rally on the ring road below our house with apes and tractors, decorated for the occasion. The viewing stand would be at the bus stop.
And did I tell you that I think there is room at the back of the ex-scuola (club) for a small bocce court? Why not get that built this spring and unveil it the first weekend of May with the other events?
The village is ready for it, the people so thrilled by the changes in the old school building. If we can share our enthusiasm with others, anything can happen! Come no?
January 3
Yesterday was our wedding anniversary! We were married in the Catholic Church in Italy by Don Francis three years ago! Let's celebrate! Yes, we were originally married in 1981 in San Francisco, but no matter...
We wake up to sun, so bright that the sky outside our front windows seems a pale yellowy-gray instead of blue. There it is, facing west, a clear blue sky. I'm looking toward Orvieto, and that's where we're going this morning.
There is an art exhibit close to the Duomo and also at Chiesa di Sant'Agostino, a church at the other end of town. The artists are: Signorelli, Simone Marini and Francesco Mochi, and we're looking forward to seeing both locations. We'll also walk to the art studio of a man and woman who are friends of Candida and Franco.
I'm hoping that Olga will be willing to give me a lesson on painting San Vincenzo's face. I cannot seem to replicate his expression, nor can Marco. From what I have seen, she's an excellent representational artist.
But we hear she is expecting a child at the end of the month and that she also may have pneumonia. So our chances are "iffy". She's Russian, and I'd like to meet her, anyway.
My hope is to take the canvas from Marco's studio on Friday and bring it to her some time next week before my next class. Remember, anything is possible!
The gallery is closed, and we never get around to calling them today...perhaps tomorrow. We view both exhibits, and the first at Palazzi Papali is quite remarkable, as is the structure itself.
Architecture in Orvieto is a wonder of tufa, either set tightly without mortar or in wondrous checkerboard designs. I'm quite taken by the angels, especially their wings, so expect to see some angels and some angel wings in upcoming flights of my own fancy on the canvas.
We drive to Soriano to make sure that our medical insurance costs the same this year as last and it does: about €370 for the two of us! Brava Italia!
Dino's pain continues, this time also in his thigh. But the drops work well, especially if he doesn't wait too long to take each succeeding dose. Next week we'll have some answers. For now, Dino at least is able to sleep at night and not have a lot of pain during the day or at night.
Paola stops by tonight on her way home for a short visit, and although she and Antonio get along with everyone in the village, she thinks that the schism will continue with the older generation.
I'm losing interest in putting on Carnevale, thinking instead that we'll put all our efforts into the other planned events for the spring. Life is too short to knock our heads against a tufa wall, although we'll continue to do all we can to get the warring sides together.
Next week when we get together with Paola and Antonio we'll see what we can do about getting more activities planned for the "club".
The nights are quite cold and damp, and it's time to start clipping the hydrangeas and roses back. It's also time to bring Mario back to dig a big hole in the far property for our existing plum tree now growing on the front terrace.
Then we'll have him dig the plum and the loquat trees out, give away or cut down the nespola (loquat) and purchase two special apple trees to grow in the places where the loquat and plum are now. I've wanted apple trees on the terrace for some time. This is the month to purchase them, too.
January 4
On a trip to Klimt in Viterbo we run into Marco, and he agrees that we should purchase a few of the softer pastels. Why are they called pastels? I have no idea.
I am imagining a red for the center cape that is so vivid it appears to bounce off the page in a three-dimensional kind of image. When I worked with the other pastels, the white of the paper kept showing through. There are so many lessons to be learned for even the smallest detail; and it is those details of life that are the most interesting if one stops to notice them.
I work at home in the kitchen, and the two side capes come out just as I had hoped, the folds and intonations working well, the subdued colors giving the flanking capes a kind of cornice for the star in the center.
I have the courage to make the call to Olga, an artist in Orvieto and friend of Candida and Franco, to see if she'll work with me on San Vincenzo's face and expression. Marco and I just can't seem to get them the way I'd like.
Olga is expecting a baby in a week or two, and after two conversations she agrees that she cannot give me the time, even two hours in her home. So I'm left to figure it out myself or find someone else.
Tomorrow we'll lay the "capes" in the back of the car with the back seats down, and Sofi will stay at home when we drive to Marco's for my lesson. I have this piece, as well as the ballerinas, to work on, even if we don't begin San Vincenzo.
On the way back from Viterbo through Bagnaia earlier today, Dino points out that there really is a San Antonio d'Abate church here..of course. That is why there is such a huge bonfire each January in the square. We have even stood on its front steps to watch.
But like the Macchina di Santa Rosa event in September, the crowds are not fun. So I hold the memory, trying to forget how uncomfortable the actual standing was.
January 5
We wake to the sounds of wood being cut by a moto-sega, and it feels warm somehow. Since we've had a full moon and lots of light at night, it seems fitting to have it all followed by a balmy day.
Why should I be depressed at the thought of a beautiful day in the midst of winter? Global warming, that's why. For every hour that is warmer than it should be this winter, we'll surely suffer this spring and summer. This also means a host of other woes, but I won't linger on them now...
Instead we'll enjoy the warm weather, and I find myself in shirtsleeves changing the water of the olives in the loggia. I think we're another couple of weeks away from being able to taste them.
We toast banana bread for breakfast, and Sofi and I take a walk around the loop, greeting Gino's father, Argentina and her girls, Luigina and Vincenza, who calls out to me from her balcony. The air is wet with last night's fog, but it is so warm that I don't even wear a coat. There is hardly a sound on our walk, and not even one car passes us. The village is still asleep.
The lentils are cooked, sausage is cooked in the loggia and added to the pot, and they are delicious. Since I've not made them with any salt to speak of, they are not over-salty. There's plenty more for tonight's snack and at least one more meal.
With a holiday this weekend, the stores will be closed for two days. So we pick up some lievito, because it is too late to buy good bread, and I'll start some in the morning before mass.
I have a good session with Marco and almost finish my pastel. But I need a couple of better colors, and Dino picks them up for me while I'm working away, and we decide to leave the piece at Marco's for a week.
I'm learning about pastels, now. For any mistake I make, I just spray the paper with strong hair spray (really), and as soon as the area is dry I can rub right over it with a new piece of colored chalk. Marco hardly makes any changes, but gives me counsel regarding the understanding of light and shadows. I am growing more confident by the minute. Next week the piece will be finished.
I also begin San Vincenzo, and work on the first two houses at the bottom, mixing colors to replicate tufa bricks. The house I finish with is the original Gasperoni house on Via Mameli, and I wonder about the provenance of it.
Perhaps Tiziano will know something. Tito was born around the turn of the 20th century, and I don't know if he was born in that house, or how far back the family goes in that house. Tomorrow in church we'll ask Tiziano.
I'd like to be accurate, but Marco suggests that I follow the copy of the painting. Although Dino has taken detailed photographs off all the cantinas and buildings on our side of the borgo, I decide to follow the print instead.
The air cools off, and by the time Dino picks me up it is cold again. With the hot and cold, hot and cold weather, the flowers will not know whether to bud or not. I'm hoping they'll all wait. But if it is mild tomorrow, I'll work on the roses.
That reminds me. I think we'll get rid of a few of our roses, keep the stronger ones, and look at paring down the number of plants. After viewing photographs of properties in Provence in a local magazine, I'm sure that less is more.
So we won't replace any lavender, and if we purchase any plants they will be sempreverde, or evergreen, meaning probably box or vibernum or pittisporum, of course all guided into rounds.
I remember liking Sarah's arrangements of rounded orbs in her Bolinas garden, and as we thin out the lavender the remaining areas will be similar. Bless you, Sarah and Alush.
It's time to finish painting the background of Pascale's Bull, and this week I shall. Perhaps by time of the Mugnano festa in May I'll have a number of canvases to show. And I've determined the design for our dinner plates, so once the weather warms up in March or so, I'll smalto and paint those after we pick up the raw plates in Deruta. It all depends on whether the vetrina is finished...
January 6
Today is the day of the Befana, or old ugly witch, who leaves presents for children all over Italia. I'm not a fan of the Befana, but the idea is fun for the children. Tonight we'll attend a live presepio in Tenaglie, and it will be fun to see some of our friends there. We expect to spend more time in Tenaglie as the year progresses, supervising the restoration of Merrit's house.
This morning we walk up to mass, and Marsiglia and Felice arrive late. I am increasingly worried about Felice, for he does not seem to know what is going on. After mass Marsiglia asks us to join them for coffee, so we do, following them up their steep stairs and sitting in their kitchen to talk.
First they have photos to show us, of Lorenzo, their first great grandchild, who was born on December 19th. He is very cute. Then we're treated to coffee and Marsiglia's famous cookies. She gives us a few to take home, wrapped up in a Christmas napkin.
Felice seems better, telling us a few stories and sharing his new shoes with Dino, although Dino's feet are a bit larger...quite a bit. Dino now wants a pair, and we'll visit the shop in Bomarzo where he purchased them next week.
I am determined to understand the face of San Vincenzo, and spend a few hours trying to capture the same expression. But I set it aside to go out and clip roses and herbs, for it's a beautiful day and I am ready to clip, clip, clip, readying our garden for spring. Unfortunately, with so many buds on the trees, I fear an early blooming and a later freeze. We'll see.
I remind Dino that we need to measure the space in the cemetery that Francesco tells us is too small for anyone, and Sofi leads us up the hill. The hill is steep, but the women of the village take the walk every day, at least once.
With measurements and photos in hand, we walk back down the hill and back to the house, where Dino continues to download music to our IPOD from our CD's and I work on the drawing again.
It's time to go to another mass, this time the blessing of the reliquaries. We are not able to go to Tenaglie tonight, for Dino is needed to dress up in his confraternity garb and help Don Luca. Don Luca overtakes us on the way to church, and asks us if we understood that he spoke about Babbo Natale today in his homily. He is always very kind to us.
I love this service, although it is a little ghoulish. There are about twenty or so reliquaries, and each one is more beautiful than the next. Most of them are silver. But what I love the most is that the reliquary of San Liberato is inside a bust of the saint, and he is clearly black skinned and very handsome.
The bust itself must be bronze, for I can't imagine he is gold, but who knows? Don Francis assured us on a previous visit that we have a grand collection of saints' fingers and bones in ornate containers. That is what a reliquary is, in case you did not know.
On the walk home Dino is back on the trail of the real San Liberato, and we have research to do on the internet and also at the Vatican Library. It's time for Dino to pick up the mantle and make it a project.
Tonight is cold, and I'm hoping tomorrow will warm up so that we can continue to cut back the roses and plants to ready them for the spring. Perhaps tomorrow we'll study the far property, to determine how many trees we need to buy, and where to put them.
Dino is ready to attack this project, as am I, and this week I hope we'll be able to buy at least the apple trees and get Mario over here to prune some trees and move some others, as well as plant the new trees. But with the mild weather, it's probably not a good idea to cut back any trees...
There is always something to do...
January 7
It's time to take down all the holiday decorations, including our Christmas lights. Dino wants to keep the rim of white lights up, but since we'll probably only use them once before next winter, it seems silly.
I want to use them for our lavender festa at the beginning of July, since the party will be held at night this year. I'm hoping I can convince him to take them down.
I'm really in a paring down mode. I want to rethink our plantings, and take out whatever lavender plants that don't look well, perhaps replacing them with box or vibernum or other evergreens here and there.
It's cold this morning, and we never get around to taking down the outside lights. Dino packs up some of the inside things, but otherwise it's a mellow day.
We take a walk out to the far property to talk about trees, but it's too cold and windy. So that will have to wait for another day. We start to talk about a late April trip to Provence, but won't plan anything until we hear if Candace and Frank will want to travel with us.
With but five cachi left sitting in the loggia, I have two sessions of cooking and steaming for the year. With two of the orangy-red orbs, I make three puddings, and they steam away on the top of the stove in two pasta pots and one large dutch oven.
But when I'm through with them, I can't turn off the light over the stove. The steam for all my puddings has warped the fan and the light and they are both jammed...Dino to the rescue.
After a bit of wrangling, he takes the whole installation apart, and we'll see if we can replace the fan and light with a newer smaller fixture, to be reinstalled under the piece of furniture fitted over the stove. There's always something. I could throw out the three last cachis....
This morning, Gigliola thanked me for their steamed pudding, telling me it was "magnificent"! That's quite a complement, and I do admit they are really tasty. So I'm not ready to throw them out...yet.
Dino wants me to paint his grandfather sitting at a kitchen table peeling an apple, with an open door in the background. The finished painting is to be hung in the kitchen above the sofa, so I might as well give it a try. He'll have to wait a little. I have San Vincenzo and a couple of others to finish first.
Tonight we measure for the painting, and I think it will be 80cm high by 1 meter wide. Can I "pull it off?" If not, we just won't hang it. I'll start to draw it out soon, looking for some old photos of "Nonno" to start with.
Dino's leg is still painful, but we have the doctor's appointment tomorrow morning, and that is encouraging. But what is really exciting is the possibility that Terence and Angie and the girls will come for a visit in May, in the middle of their trip to Macedonia to visit Angie's relatives. How joyful that will be!
Soon we'll be able to tell the women in the village, each of which will want to meet the girls. And then there are the twins who live above us for them to meet...Christian and Edoardo. The thought of them meeting is, I admit, a little scary...
The visit gives us both plenty to dream of, and on this cold night we climb into bed early...
January 8
The morning is cold and foggy, but we drive to Orvieto to make an appointment at the hospital for me with Dr. Franciosini about my hernia and then to the doctor in Orvieto for Dino's leg. The computer is not working at the hospital, so after a wait we decide to leave.
We have better luck with Dr. ShŠfer, who is German but speaks very good English and is quite a nice guy. He seems to be a good diagnostician. Since he does not do surgery, he performs acupuncture and a host of other things, including chiropractic medicine.
At one point, Dino is lying on a gurney and he's wrestling with the doctor as if it's a Laurel and Hardy routine. It appears the good doctor has him moving to and fro to get his mind and body relaxed and...wham! He pulls Dino's leg as if it's a rubber band. Yikes!
I ask him in passing about my shoulder, and before we're through he tells me it's my rotator cup that is causing me the pain, and that it is a degenerative thing. Unlike Dino's maladies that want to cure themselves in time with rest and exercise, he thinks I need a cortisone shot but that I'll never completely heal.
I do want to play the violin again, although I don't know when I can fit in the time. He does say that if I choose to play again, I'll have to work up to it slowly, doing exercises at first and stretching before really playing. He tells me I'll have to see him in Rome, for his expensive equipment is there, and he'll inject me while doing a kind of ultrasound. Perhaps, one day...
These days all seem to end the same way, with the weather cold and none of us wanting to gambol about. So it's inside with us by the stufa and a fire.
But at 9 P M we're told to visit with Livio, for the winners of the raffle are announced on T V. With our lotteries, we use the city names of Roma and Napoli. Each week, on TV, the winners of local lotteries are announced where the city names are followed by key numbers.
We arrive at Livio's under umbrellas, and in their kitchen learn that both lottery prizes are won by...Mauro's brother in law! How embarrassing for Mauro!
After some nudging, Mauro calls and finds him at home, so Livio and Dino and Mauro and I drive to Bomarzo to deliver the goods. He's such a sweet guy, and can hardly believe his good fortune. Va bene!
January 9
Dino travels to Montecchio for projects for a client and I roast the defrosted bones and meat left from our Christmas roast with carrots and tomatoes and rosemarino and thyme and, why not, some balsamic vinegar.
It makes an unbelievable sauce for wide noodles, and there's some left to make something with rice for tomorrow. Dino loves leftovers, and this pork is truly yummy. I've also made a roasted red pepper sauce, and that will be added to tomorrow's fare.
I complete my last drawing of San Vincenzo's face. This time I map out the face I'm to copy from into quadrants, and I still am not happy with the result. I'll take the 28 examples to Marco on Friday. In the meantime, I research San Vincenzo on the intenet, and come up with two paintings that show his face and hair not unlike that in the painting.
Since he was martyred in around the year 300 A D, it's interesting that there are depictions of his face. Father Francis told me that the first patron saints dated back only a few hundred years, but my internet research tells me differently, that patron saints go as far back as, well, San Vincenzo!
Both photographs that I have from the internet show him in prison with a rope around his neck and a big ring of cement. What a way to go! I think Don Francis told me he was killed because he kicked over a pagan altar. Anyway, I've just learned that he's the patron saint of roofers, and of viticulturers, or winemakers. The villagers will love that.
January 10
Dino drives back to Montecchio for business with the bank and at the Comune, and I decide to sew the last panels for the "club". There are eight of them, and I finish the sides and the tops, waiting for a final measurement to finish the bottom hems.
I finish as Dino arrives back home and put on a pot of rice. Pranzo is even better than yesterday's, with the pepper sauce added to the roast pork mixture.
We have an appointment with Diego in Roccalvecce, and it is good to see him again. How good he looks! After his second back operation he has recuperated very well, and walks with no pain at all. After twenty minutes or so of sharing pain and remedy options with Dino, we talk about his properties, and about his castello. Take a minute when you can to look at his place. It is remarkable, for a meeting site, for a special occasion, or for a week's sojourn.
It's time to do some serious research about trees, and so we visit our friends at the Vivai Michellini in Viterbo. Sofi especially loves roaming around the place, and we take a look at some different trees, then look through some books with Lucia.
We want shade trees for the far property, five of them, and two apple trees for the front terrace. We find apple trees that will work, they are about six or eight years old each, and that's a good age.
But I'm not really happy with the ideas she comes up with for shade trees, and we agree that we'll do some internet searching before returning to them again. The only trees she suggests that I like are the Prunus Autumnalis. Those are quite lovely, and although they won't be trees we'll really want to sit under for shade their look will be lovely. Huh?
The others include Paulownia tormentosa, Sophoroa Pendula and Catalpa Bugie. I dislike all three. I'm also suspicious, as the first she suggests, the Paulownia Tomentosa is invasive, with thousands of pods that explode sending their seeds everywhere to propagate.
This has been an unsettling visit. We're to map off the area we have to work with and do a lot more research. We see two rows of trees forming an arch, or kind of pergola, over the top, with the view of San Rocco in the center at the end.
The more I think of it, the more the plum trees will work the best. But I'm concerned about the bank, about the long-term strength of it all, and we agree to get Stefano in to give us a price for a tufa retaining wall.
But before we can do anything, we'll have to meet with the mayor and push him to repair the front wall and front path. Otherwise, we won't be able to plant anything out there. Since we now have photos of our proposed cemetery plot, we're ready to meet with him about both subjects. So let's make that happen.
While I've been sewing this morning, I've come up with the idea to do a short workshop on the morning of the Festa della Donne in March. So many women wanted to know how to make the topiaries that we used as centerpieces, that we'll put together a package for each participant, and guide them in making them. I think it will be fun, as long as we limit participants to adults.
January 11
We never do get up to the "club" today to measure. Dino works on our brochure and I work on the design for our far property, including sketching out a number of possibilities. After a lot of research, I think that we want to soften the two "banks" and make the area more of an undulating rise and fall, with trees here and there for shade.
I remember that on a Mediterranean Garden Society tour last year, we were both struck by the beauty of "underplanting" olive trees, so perhaps we won't have to move many of the olive trees already there.
Since we no longer want to install a bocce court on the lowest property, realizing the best place is behind the "club", we can consider the whole three levels as one space. I email Sarah to see if she wants to advise us before looking for someone locally for a little guidance.
Either way, we'll probably purchase a few trees this month, so we'll need to bring Mario back to do some digging and moving. We're also both encouraged and rather tired of the rows and rows of lavender.
So whatever plants are dead will come out and not be replaced. That means there won't be any more distribution of lavender to the people of the village, but I don't think they sit around and wait for their little bouquets...
I think the neighbors will really be excited about meeting our grand daughters in May, and they certainly are "grand". Hopefully in the next week or two Terence and Angie will have firmed up their plans and dates.
I'm itching to paint, and there is another canvas sitting around, ready to be used. So I place it on the easel and outline several huge zucca. In less than two hours Dino walks downstairs and laughs at me.
I'm well on my way to finishing the basic design, now working on the light and shadows and tones. I really love to paint, love to experiment with dark and light, and will have something to take to Marco tomorrow to look over.
Dino drives off to Soriano to pay for our annual medical insurance, but returns telling me that they think we should have each been paying that amount each year. We'll need more advice, so I email John Murphy of the Informer, and he responds by telling me that I am correct. He forwards a site that explains it all, http://www.stranieriinitalia.it. I encourage Dino to take this information back to Soriano and press them to comply. He agrees.
Tomorrow Dino will pick up supplies for at least two more paint canvases, and I think I'll ask him to help me to stretch the canvases. My hands aren't strong enough to do the work myself, but I like knowing that I have something to do with making the frame and preparing the linen. I think Dino will like the process, too.
Each week I'll work on the painting of San Vincenzo, but at home will work on something else. Tomorrow I'll probably finish the pastel of the three capes in the closet.
"Where will we hang them all?" Dino asks tonight. Sure we'll sell them to anyone who wants to buy them, but in the meantime we'll find places to hang them up on our walls. Now that my violin playing is looking a bit doubtful, I'm delighted to have a backup plan.
January 12
What has happened to Don Francis? It appears we will not see him this trip. We hope that he had a restful two weeks in Isernia and that he is enjoying his house there. He calls this morning from the airport in Napoli, and encourages us to contact his friend at the Vatican regarding San Liberato. Great idea!
The fava beans are starting to come up, but isn't it early? Although it's a sunny day today I don't know if I should be happy about it. Might as well enjoy it. The weather patterns have probably changed forever...
Sarah encourages us to bring in an expert for changes to our landscaping, but we'll let her "look over our shoulders" just the same for her endorsement. I couldn't imagine it any other way.
This morning I'm going to paint again, and take out the canvas I began with yesterday. After a few hours I set it aside to fix pranzo. It's too wet to take to Marco's, so I'll continue to work on it at home. There is plenty to work on at his studio.
On the way out of town we stop to drop off refuti (garbage) and see the name of Maria Monghini on a death notice across the street from the recycling canisters. Hmmm. Monghini. Her maiden name was Natali. We wonder if she is related to the Monchinis, and if the Monchinis are related to the Natalis. Surely this year we will figure it all out...
Most of the studio time this afternoon is spent on the pastel, chalk images of three capes hanging on a wall. Part way though the session I think the piece has been ruined. The red cape at the center has too many black lines, delineating shadows and curves in the fabric.
Spray and rub again. Spray and rub again. Over and over I work on the piece, first spraying the surface, then reapplying the red and black and yellow chalk.
Marco wants me to use just red and black, but there is too much black, and after a lot of finessing I take out about half of the black lines and replace them with red tones. It looks much better, and I finish with some white and yellow chalk, rubbed in to make highlights where the light most likely reflects off the fabric.
With a final spray and my "firma" or signature, I'm done, and return to San Vincenzo. I'll need glass over this piece and will have to frame it, and Marco encourages us to buy the supplies and frame it ourselves.
But we make arrangements to return to Marco's in the middle of the week for a short time to mix the fixative we'll need for my next two canvases. He cannot give us a definitive calculation of the formula. Dino purchased the linen and gesso and colla di coniglio, and Marco lends him the tool he'll need to stretch the canvas. We'll work on them this weekend.
Dino wants to know how to make the stretched canvas frames, and this is a good way to do it. I'm so pleased that he takes such an interest in my artwork. He also makes me so happy by his comments and reassurance about the quality of my work.
Duccio calls and we'll visit them tomorrow in Bomarzo. We have not spent much time with them lately, and want to catch up on all the goings on.
We hear that this weekend will be very warm, and I'm resigned to just enjoying it. During a pause in class, Alessandra talks with me about her fruit trees. And I'm reminded that it might be a good idea to pick up spray for the peach and plum trees from Bruno tomorrow.
We always wait too long to spray the peach tree, and have not had a good harvest of peaches yet. Perhaps this year, if a late frost does not ruin it all.
January 13
Sofi does not want to get up this morning, and since we're surrounded in fog I don't blame her. When we all do get up, we drive to Bomarzo for a visit with Duccio and Giovanna, taking them a budino di kaki (how many ways have I spelled this fruit?).
Dino tells me that Michelle recanted her Christmas kaki story to him yesterday. With a house full of guests, she decided to serve our budino, which we had given to her the day or so before. People made sour faces at her and loud noises against wanting any, but being a very strong willed woman she decided she would serve it anyway.
It appears that everyone, yes everyone, loved the dessert. I admit it is an amazing dessert. And almost no one likes kakis, those round orange orbs that hang on their trees around Christmastime like ornaments, their leaves fallen long ago. Somehow they are transformed when mixed with the other ingredients and steamed for two hours.
With only two kaki left in the loggia, I'll probably make one large pudding and freeze it for a large gathering. (I'm reminded of the Noel Coward line..."Let's join the ladies and make one great big lady!....or was it Cole Porter?)
We arrive back from Bomarzo and take a last look at the pastel. After agreeing what the upper border will be, I add a little chalk, then a lot of fixative, and when it's dry I sign it and we drive it to Amelia to the woman we like so much who is an excellent framer.
She has the funniest name, Luciana Quadracchia, and when Dino comments on it she makes a frown, agreeing that it is a good name for her but telling us that it is an ugly name.
It translates more or less to "ugly frame", but we tell her that she receives pieces when they are ugly, and when they leave her shop they are beautiful. She beams and thanks us, telling us it will be fifteen days or so until our piece is finished.
On the way home we discuss names for the piece, and Dino reminds me that she commented that it looked as though the subject was located inside someone's closet. So I think we may call it Diego's Armadio.
Why Diego? Well, we have two friends we like a lot names Diego, and the name needs a kind of flourish. Dino thinks the owner of the capes would be a "swashbuckling" kind of person. Huh? We'll figure out what to name it when we put it up on the back wall of our kitchen.
We've decided that that will be the test wall for my paintings, and except for the first one, which we agree we'll never part with, I'd be happy to let the others find new homes.
I expect to paint one painting a week at home, and to work on San Vincenzo at Marco's. Dino has wanted a painting of his Nonno sitting at the kitchen table peeling an apple for as long as I have known him, so I'll start to sketch it out, and we'll set up a still life on the kitchen table and Dino will be the model.
Now Nonno was smaller than Dino, but we have a few photos of his face, and I can play around with that. I have no idea when I'll feel confident enough to actually tackle it. I suppose it depends on the success of San Vincenzo.
We drive to Viterbo in the afternoon for more paints, and to pick up the gola di coniglio to set the linen after it is stretched. We try to buy tenaglie (forceps looking things used to stretch linen on frames) but our regular shop does not have them in stock. They also agree to custom make the frame for Pascale's Bull, and we'll give them the exact measurements on Monday afternoon.
The frame will be difficult to make, for the canvas itself is not large, and the painting covers most of the canvas. We're working out how to make it work, and I'm confident that we will, even if we have to offset the cape toward the left, which will be fine, for the design moves toward the right of the canvas.
I know you don't need to know all this, but remember: the reason for this journal is for us to refer back to it when we need to. We're happy if you gain some enjoyment in the meantime. My memory continues to drift. I'm thankful I can remember anything at all...
On the drive back from Viterbo we meander through Bagnaia, and dozens of young men put finishing touches on the huge bonfire for Tuesday night in honor of San Antonio d'Abate, the Patron Saint of Animals.
Earlier, Duccio taught us that a Patrono is a Patron Saint, not to be confused with a Padrono, who is the owner of a property. He gives us another connection in Rome regarding the research we are about to do about San Liberato, and we'll give that information to Tiziano tomorrow. Let's hope we can travel to Rome soon to find some answers.
January 14
This forwarded by neighbor and journalist Shelly:
"A Canadian study shows bilingualism has a protective effect in delaying onset of dementia by four years."
"Here's the gist: Researchers at the Baycrest Research Centre for the Brain have published a study saying that in a cohort of 184 elderly patients, 134 showed signs of dementia. But the ones who spent their lives speaking more than one language-there were 25 languages in the group-started showing onset something like four years later than the ones who only spoke one language. Salient bits of the press release:
"What's just as likely (though much less comforting) is that everyone gets the same memory and cognitive deficits as they get older, but some people have innate abilities that let them trick their way around them for longer. And those same innate abilities let them hold more than one language in their head."
Thanks, Shelly.
So, noodling around with Italian is going to help us figure out where we've left our keys longer...I do think that the effort we're taking slogging through this strange and wonderful language is keeping us young longer...And we recommend it highly.
That reminds me. It's time to get off your duffs and come over to seriously consider picking up a little piece of paradise for your very own. We're continuing to add new properties and have lots to talk about. Hope to see many of you in the new year.
With another foggy morning greeting us, we attend church with the locals and intend to ask about the death notice of the woman whose cognomes (family names) are familiar in this borgo...Natali and Monghini.
Celestino Natali built our house, and is now in the local cemetery with his wife, but the only Natali in the village is Norena, who lives mostly in Rome but visits here for the warmer months.
Antonio and his mother Giuseppa live in the village. Antonio is the president of the Universita Agraria, but their cognome is Monchini. Tiziano will surely have all the answers...
We walk up to the borgo in the mist, and find Tiziano waiting outside Ernesta's for his family. But our talk is all about our San Vincenzo research, and about his former teacher.
We tell him the good things that have been said about him, passed on through Duccio. He is a very good friend. We love to see him beam, and beam he does.
A few minutes later, while waiting for the priest to arrive, I ask him about the woman who passed away a few days ago. She lived in Giove with her brother, but owned the house where Franco and Giovanna now live, across from Luigina. We think that Maria might be the mother of Franco, who is a Monchini.
But what's with the spelling of her last name? It was sbagliato (wrong)! Can you imagine the final notice of your name after death spelled incorrectly? I tell him that in English it would be an indignity, and ask him what it would be in Italian...Indegno. It surely was that.
During the liturgy and after the homily, I read hastily in my horrible Italian that civil authorities are not afraid to help immigrants who profess to be Christians. What?
Today's mass honors immigrants among other things (don't expect me to understand it all:), but is this the stand of the Catholic Church? I will certainly ask Tiziano after mass if this is true.
I am reminded of attending Summer School as a child one year in a nearby town, and it was a Catholic Summer School. I was brought up as a Protestant, and recalled that the nuns treated me as if I was extra special. It was not until years later that I realized that they probably treated me differently because they wanted me to embrace their religion and become a Catholic. They will never know that their prayers were answered after all...
But immigration is a "hot topic" in Italy. Italians want to be friendly and open and welcoming, but don't what their jobs taken away, their services lessened and their homes robbed. They are fearful of all of this and more.
After mass, I show Tiziano what is written, and he tells me that the Church is open to immigrants who are not Catholic. I breathe a sigh of relief.
There will be no Fuoco di San Antonio d'Abate in Mugnano this year. Perhaps the fire we had a few years ago was a fluke. Dino thinks there are not enough priests around to make everyone happy. So I sadly concede that we'll take Sofi to Bomarzo for her annual blessing in a few days as we did last year.
Tiziano also translates a notice from the mayor, telling us we need to behave ourselves. We first think that he is telling us that we cannot burn leaves and trimmings on our properties, but what he is saying is that we can't throw large items, like old washing machines, away on the road.
There is a specific place where we can take them at a specific time each week. The fines will range from €25 to €500 for each offense. Sounds good to me.
I give Mauro an idea for us to hold a workshop on the Saturday of the Festa della Donna in March, where we show people how to make topiaries out of walnuts or hazelnuts, etc. Laura thinks it's a good idea, Mauro thinks it's fine until I tell him he can make one for Laura. We laugh and I tell him he'll probably have to go to work that morning.
At any case, Laura confirms that she and Gigliola and I will sit and be waited on at the dinner that evening and not work at all. Since the meal will be catered, there is not a lot to do, but perhaps some of the men will chip in to help. We'll find out...
I want to make the kitchen curtains for the "club" a little different, with tabs at the top, and we unlock the door and hold the fabric up on one of the kitchen windows. There is a knock on the door and Tiziano wants to come in, amazed because this is the first time he has seem inside the building since the painting was finished.
We ask him why the club is no longer open on weekends, and he tells us that it was too difficult to get people to work there. With an idea of taking turns, and having it open for several hours each day of a weekend or holiday, we think we can turn things around. There is much to talk about, and people seem interested and happy that there is a clean place in which to congregate.
We walk home and I fix a pork loin roast, using part of a recipe from a Marlene de Biasi cookbook. I make more warm apple sauce and roast vegetables and the meal is very tasty, although the 1997 Brunello we open is a disappointment.
We remember purchasing the wine from a small winery in Tuscany with Mitch a couple of years ago. It is strong and acidic, and at a price of more than €30, it is not one we would recommend.
I roasted the bones along with the meat, and have enough to make a couple of meals from it. Perhaps we'll freeze one container.
Dino has made a roaring fire, and it is beautiful. It is so beautiful that I have to take off one of my sweaters and we open the window. This is a lovely winter afternoon, although there is no sun, and we're enjoying sitting around in the kitchen as the afternoon turns into early evening.
January 15
Fog persists, but it's not too cold for Sofi and I to take our little walk. The silence is unbroken only by a few passeri chirping about above us. Not even a car drives by when we turn the corner and finish our walk on Via Mameli, Mugnano's "main street".
I return to sewing the kitchen curtains for the club, and since I have taken on the time-intensive project of making tabs for the top of the curtains, I work in the guest bedroom with Sofi taking a nap nearby.
We're determined to get to the bottom of our medical insurance controversy, but the person Dino has to speak with is in Viterbo, so we will save that for another day.
Dino stretches three canvases with Marco's ancient metal stretching tool and does a good job. We also mix the cola di coniglio or glue that is to be painted on the top of the linen, but it is to sit for twelve hours. I'm not sure the canvases are tight enough, so we'll wait until we see Marco tomorrow so that he can take a look.
January 16
We are ready to return to Marco's, so after I've sewn for a while we drive through the back roads of Bagnaia. Tonight is the fuoco del San Antonio d'Abate (bonfire in honor of the patron saint of farm animals), and we want to escape the crowds. We'll drive to Bomarzo tomorrow instead for Sofi's blessing in honor of San Antonio.
We arrive in a blanket of fog and while taking the stretched canvases out of the car I'm drawn to the view: trees and undulating meadows turned grey, the images clearer the longer I stare.
The scene reminds me of McIver's Morning Cart, a painting I've loved since a childhood visit to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston with my father. The longer we'd stare at the image, the more detail we were able to ascertain. It would be a dream to be able to paint such a scene. There I go again...
Marco thinks Dino has done a fine job, and there are just a few spots to re-staple. He thinks I'm a bit crazy to insist that the staples be placed on the back of the canvas instead of the sides. I think it makes a difference, for perhaps the canvases will be hung without frames, and who wants to look at the staples? The devil certainly is in the details...
We heat the gola di coniglio in a bagna maria (double boiler), making sure that the water does not boil. Dino brushes the gola onto the canvases as I search some of Marco's books for subjects with lots of folds of fabric.
He lends me one, and now I'm interested again at working in pastels, thinking it will be a good exercise. I show him an example and tell him I'd like to paint it with oils, but he tells me it is very difficult.
While I think to myself, "Come no?" he tells me that the shading of light and dark is very difficult to obtain with the medium of oils. I'm exasperated, but don't let it show. Some day I'll paint these very images.
We have to leave the two large canvases, for they are wet, but take home the little one and the gola, for we have work to do on re-stretching the little canvas, and we'll buy another frame since we have enough linen to do a second canvas.
Tonight is a re-showing of the Golden Globes on TV, and although we know a few of the winners from the news, we sit down to enjoy the show and the antics of the stars. What a plastic and unreal scene this Hollywoodland, a world within a world that people all over the world can't get enough of.
January 17
Rain today greets us; a gentle, lazy kind of rain, juicy drops weighing down the hearty nespola leaves. Weight of the heavy drops causes the edge of the leaves to bounce ever so slightly as the weight pulls one and then another down for just an instant while the tree rocks back and forth in a steady sigh.
Dino drives off to Viterbo to stand firm against the bureaucracy. We've information online that tells us we need only to pay for Dino's medical insurance as I am his dependent. John Murphy of The Informer confirms we are correct, but the folks in Soriano, where we pay our annual fee, have changed their mind this year. Perhaps the rain will bring Dino good luck.
I sew a little and spend time looking for images in Marco's figure book to copy, images of people wrapped in cloaks of fabric, in scenes of several hundred years ago. I'm going to work on these images until I can "draw them with my eyes closed".
Dino has agreed to pick up another frame from Klimt and also pick up a few pastels so that I can study and then paint new subjects. The squash painting sits in the dining room, and I return to it almost each day. The intonations need more work, but it should be finished before I return to Marco's next Monday.
Tonight is the fuoco di San Antonio d'Abate. San Antonio d'Abate is the patron saint of farm animals. Italians put their domestic pals in the same category and on this night we take them to be blessed outside by a bonfire.
The most spectacular around is that in Bagnaia, but it is so crowded and the wait is so long that we drive to our little Bomarzo instead. Right outside the circolo (club), on the way to the Comune, is a little plaza where a respectful sized fire blazes, an old man faithfully stoking it with a long wooden stick.
We arrive just before five P M, and have to pass by a man holding a huge black Rotweiler on a chain. The Rotweiler lunges at little Sofi while I gasp and stand between them. The man does not look me in the eye, but yanks the dog back and leans against the stone wall.
We enter the plaza and stand to our left, against another stone wall. There are perhaps six or seven dogs of all sizes at this point, and a man with two caged doves and two women with little rabbits join in. Within a few minutes Don Luca arrives and jumps up onto a metal bench to begin, right outside the circolo.
He tells us, or at least I think he is telling us, that San Antonio was really the patron saint of pigs, but the designation was expanded to include all farm animals. It may have had to do with health reasons. How do you like that for stretching a story farrrrrr????
The benediction goes off without much fanfare, just a sprinkling of holy water all around, and Sofi's ready to face another year.
January 18
We have Dino's first acupuncture treatment today in Orvieto, plus a meeting with the sindaco (mayor) and a jaunt to Viterbo to slay the medical insurance dragon...
First we stop in Attigliano to fax a document and our eyes are drawn to a headline outside the giornalista: "Jewel Heist in Central Orvieto!" We pick up a copy of the paper, and I scour it while juggling Sofi on my knee. Dino drives toward Orvieto, where we expect the whole town is buzzing.
The story in the paper tells us that someone wearing a Carabinieri uniform entered a jewelry store right after noon in yesterday's rain to empty the contents of the safe and escape through a back street. I believe there were two accomplises.
We arrive at Dr. Schafer's and he knows nothing about it. But his wife is at the Thursday market, so when she arrives she will know. We seem to know more than anyone in Orvieto, for the doctor has seen two patients before Dino, and no one mentioned it.
His wife arrives, and knows nothing about the robbery. So I wait while she reads the paper and shrugs her head. I'm dismayed by it all. It seems inconceivable that someone could pull off a robbery on the Corso in Orvieto. The newspaper indicates this is the first time a robbery of this kind has occurred in Orvieto.
When we return for Dino's next appointment, the doctor will have more knowledge. It is a shame that Franco and Candace are not here. They have their ears to the ground about everything happening in Orvieto. We stop by their house to make sure everything is fine and exit the town to return to our little hamlet and pranzo.
First on the docket for our meeting with the sindaco this afternoon is the conversation about the plot we have picked out at our little cemetery. The sindaco had told us that there were no places left, but Francesco, the Vigili Urbani, thinks no one owns the space we found on our own some weeks ago and hope to purchase.
Periodically I read the New York Times online, and today there is a funny feature about funerary urns for ashes. The artist featured speaks about walking by the urn where her mother's ashes are placed and "giving it a spin". Ha!
I have to laugh. For more than a year Hildegarde's (my mother's) ashes sat in a Chinese urn on top of our television in Mill Valley, CA, until I took "her" to Stinson Beach and buried her where she wanted to spend her days, in a modified "shack on the beach"; this time I buried her over some French tulips in a mound of sand facing the sunset.
Now I think cremation makes a lot of sense. In the article one man agrees with me, but for the strangest reason: "I've always disliked the idea of spending a lot of money to throw people into the ground...One you're gone, you're gone. But at least (funerary) art brings it up one level and blends in with your dŽcor." Boh!
We'll be the first to be cremated, I suppose, in our little cemetery, but with the numbers of cremations in Italy rising, we may start a whole new trend. I think for a moment or two about designing and making two urns for us, then change my mind, thinking it's all too grotesque.
But if we are to be cremated, what then? Might as well design the whole shebang, including the architecture of the space, have it built and make or purchase the two urns. Let's see how today's meeting goes.
But the main purpose of our meeting is to look down the edge of our pinc nez glasses (we don't wear them but I'm imagining the drama of it all) as the sindaco sits before us and while looming over him give him a little puff and see if he falls over.
I'm being dramatic, but we're intending to push him into getting the Comune or the Region to repair the wall and the path below our house on the way to San Rocco. We've met with him three times about it, and now I'm hoping we'll do a verbal pushing of his desk against the back wall as he faces us, somewhat like the way Sofi puts her long nose into her basket of stuffed animals and bones on the floor and moves it about...
If it bears noting, the mayor is the person who is to marshal our citizenship papers, so we have to be a little careful. Although there is a bill in Parliament to lower the number of years of residence to five, if it does not pass we will be ready to apply for citizenship next November. (The present waiting period is ten years, with the application permitted six months before the ten years have been reached.)
Five hours later... Well, the little mayor did deflate, but seemed to deflate all on his own. In a nonstop diatribe seemingly against his own government, he rambled on about examples of people whose houses are so destroyed they cannot leave them, abandoned dogs being financially supported in caniles, and we found ourselves ready to holler "'nuff!"
So there is no money to do anything. For the first time in memory I sat dumbly without speaking a word, while Stefano directed his entire conversation solely to Dino.
The subject of the cemetery plot lasted less than two minutes, with him nodding his head and asking for a formal request in writing from us. That we'll do within the week.
He seemed uninformed about the citizenship issue, yet confirmed that we would be working with him. That reminds me. He finished his diatribe by saying that in two years he can wipe his hands of the whole deal, for he will no longer be sindaco.
What may well be happening is that the regional government is looking for reasons to move the Comune from Bomarzo to Soriano. It makes no difference to us, as long as Mugnano will be treated with respect. With the government in financial shambles, Prodi is doing what he can to pare down and raise taxes.
We can't blame him. We pay less than €8 a year for property taxes, so how can a government support itself with that kind of taxation?
So we move on to Viterbo, and talking about the government trying to support itself, we're fighting the change in medical costs per year for us. For the last five years or so, we've paid less than €400 a year for the two of us. Now it appears we may be paying twice as much, which is still very inexpensive but more than our advisors tell us it should cost.
We step inside the brand new ASL office, for today is its first day of operation and everyone stands around preening about his new digs. We're directed to a man who tells us, yes, come around behind the counter.
He walks to the telephone, dials a number and hollers out to Giuseppe, who sits in an office less than twenty meters away. One by one people walk over to listen to what is going on.
Italians are a very nosy lot. There is much debate, with at least half of the people telling us we need to pay more, but one woman who seems to have experience in this area telling us that we should both be covered at this price. Single coverage would be much less money.
It's decided that we'll return on Tuesday morning for the verdict, and we leave not feeling very good about it at all. The man who is to decide is the man who instructed the people in Soriano last week to charge us double. The saga continues...
January 19
We have not given up about the wall repair, the path repair, or the San Rocco restoration. I have been thinking, thinking and Dino tells me I'm scaring him. He does this with a smile, for he knows that I "dare to think "big" dare to dream even "bigger"; and he knows that nothing will happen at all without a dream, and with a dream anything, yes anything, is possible. Sorry for the bad grammar, but the word "big" is the only one that seems to fit tonight.
I can't tell you about my dreams right now. I'm formulating my ideas, and when they take on a semblance of reality I'll tell you then. Just know that something's afoot.
This morning is very warm, and we drive on to Rome to meet with a new commercialista. His office is near the Via Veneto, and Dino pulls the car over to look at the Rome map. "Where are we? " he asks. We look over his shoulder to his left to see a sign "Via Porta Pincio" and we're right on the correct block! So we park and Sofi sleeps while we enter a huge building, resplendent with rococo front and beautifully maintained chestnut doors.
There is a very old elevator in the middle, and so we decide to take the stairs until we realize that was not a good idea. Several flights later we find the office, and it's only a moment or two before we meet our new friend.
Roberto is our new commercialista, and although he does not speak English, he can read and understand it. He takes us under his wing and tells us what we have been doing wrong, not been doing, doing correctly, and we realize we are in good hands, at least for the time being.
We leave with a few assignments, and will be back in touch with him shortly. Outside the office it is so beautiful that we pick up Sofi and take a walk over to Piazza Buenos Aires, which exhibits some amazing architecture.
A building on one corner is full of detailed mosaics. The dates on a number of the buildings date back to the 1920's. The style is Liberty, ornate and voluptuous. It is all eye candy, and just delicious!
We find a place to eat outside, and Sofi is thrilled, sitting by my side watching people walk by and staring at me to try to get me to share my seafood risotto. The day is so balmy that we want to take our coats off.
After a walk around we drive to IKEA, where we pick up more pure linen to use for canvas stretchers. IKEA has the best price around for linen. With no luck finding a parking space around Piazza del Popolo where the art stores are, we'll try some of the art stores in Florence tomorrow, instead for the tenaglie (pincers) to pull linen across the stretchers. Dino seems to thrive on these projects, and takes on his role with gusto.
If the weather holds, we'll return soon by train on a mild day. We both miss walking in Rome. It's a treat not to be missed. For a few minutes or an hour or a day or a year there is always something captivating about this city.
We return home to new information about our San Liberato search, and on Sunday we'll share it with our good friend, Tiziano. This is the best lead yet to the source of all the information.
The office is called the Congregation for the Causes of Saints, and we think it's located right in the Vatican. But first we'll need a letter from Don Luca, which Tiziano will be happy to write. The journey continues...
January 20
It's warm this morning, and we're expecting the same weather as yesterday on our sojourn to Firenze. Dino takes Sofi to Annika's for the day, stopping at the post office to pick up what I hope will be a bunch of books that Terence shipped to us six weeks ago.
Unfortunately, it is something else. Actually, it is a tax invoice. So we'll have to wait a little longer for the books. It is the first set of books. We're waiting to see what happens with this shipment before asking Terence to send the others.
Duccio and Giovanna pick us up and we drive to Orvieto to take the Inter City train to Santa Maria Novella in Firenze. We have our doubts about Duccio's interest in parking in Orvieto, but decide to go along with him as it was his idea to take this trip together in the first place.
After a long but pleasant train ride, Giovanna finds a place for us to have pranzo. She keeps restaurant receipts...forever. This one dates back to 1986, and although the name of the restaurant has changed, the manager/owner knows the former owner and tells us where his restaurant is now located in the Tuscan countryside.
We think Giovanna is so funny with her old red Michelin guides, and receipts folded in the back flap of places they have been. She is a low-tech version of Dino, who includes every restaurant we have ever been that is good, alongside comments that will jog our memories.
The food is good, it is inexpensive, and we're out of there just before 3PM when the first church we are to see opens up. It is Santa Felicita and the paintings inside are pretty miraculous, especially the Assumption right inside the door.
We visit the art exhibit around the side of the Uffizi, and it is pretty good. The exhibit consists of paintings that are hardly ever shown. These will be returned to the "warehouse" at the end of January. I'm not really intrigued by any except one, where a number of women lean over a railing, their opulent clothes alight with color and tone. I ask Dino to take a photo of one woman's draped elbow. Yes, that's me, fixated about fabric again.
Before we're through for the day, we've purchased a taffeta silk shawl for less than €30 in a tiny shop. I test it by scrunching it up on the table, looking at the light and shadow reflecting upon it. The clerk does not know how to respond when I tell her it's to use as a subject to paint, but she willingly takes Dino's euros just the same.
A while earlier we passed a shop where a woman hand makes hats and shawls, and after asking her if she will sell me a piece of black yarn so that I can repair a hat, she reaches into a basket under her desk and hands me a handful of black yarn. She refuses to take any money and I give her a hug instead. Some people have such generosity of spirit, and she is surely one.
We purchase a biography of Michelangelo at the train station before returning home, and I read quite a bit of it on the train. Duccio's ancestor Valori is mentioned twice, once regarding his loyalty to Savanarola just before being killed. Duccio reads the passage and shrugs. Duccio is light to his ancestor's shadow. I cannot imagine him related to this dark character we've been reading about.
We arrive home and then drive to pick up Sofi, who has had a wonderful day but is very happy to be back with us. We stop in Attigliano to pick up a couple of pizzas, that we keep warm and polish off with a glass of wine and a toast to the 26th anniversary of our first date!
January 21
It's really humid this morning, our clothes feeling heavy, the air stifling. By the time we reach our little church, the temperature cools off. And by the time we reach home after our festaroli giro, it's almost noon and the skies flirt with sun, but settle on clouds and a little wind.
On today's giro, Dino writes down all the family names as we walk from house to house. Livio tells us he has done a tree for the families in Mugnano, and we'll compare "ours" to his on Saturday night, when we walk up there to prepare the snacks to be served after the movies on Sunday.
Many people are confused, thinking that we should be celebrating San Vincenzo's birthday today. But since it is tomorrow, Mauro tells everyone that Don Luca determined that the celebration would be next Sunday. So that's that. San Vincenzo is our "second" patron saint in Mugnano.
Back at home, Dino opens the Viterbo phone book, and marks off those people who live in Mugnano. He makes a list, and when Tiziano comes for a visit tonight, he takes out the pages and pages of names, taped together. Tiziano helps to add some names and the research will continue.
I'd like to have something to pass out about San Vincenzo, so Tiziano will ask Don Luca this week if there is something that we can distribute on Sunday. But tonight's visit is mostly about the letter we'll need to do the research in Rome about San Liberato.
Dino and Tiziano want the letter to state that we want to do research on two saints. I let them finish their rationale, then offer that if we express that there are some real problems with the statue we use as our patron saint, the drama of it all may engender more attention. Once we are safely ensconced within the group, we can broaden our search. They agree.
We determine that the bishop might have some connections in Rome, and so ask if Don Luca can use his influence to help us to gain access to the records we need. These meetings with Tiziano are always fun and we continue our meeting with conversations about our patron saints and local research.
There is much to be done, and Tiziano is very busy with his research. So we offer to help him take archeological measurements, and he'll take us up on our offer soon. We're always happy to help him.
I've not been able to paint for a few days and surely miss it, so tomorrow morning while Dino travels to Orvieto for his acupuncture treatment, Sofi and I will stay at home and I'll paint.
I'm really tired, so tonight I'll get into bed early and read more about the life of Michelangelo. Tiziano confirmed that he listened to the talk of the man who claims that Michelangelo was responsible for the design of the Monster Park in Bomarzo.
We're all skeptical, and I'd like to know the dates. For I have a list of the things he worked on, and after he became well known his backlog of projects was so deep that he disappointed many people. When, oh when, did he have time for this project? The only curiosity I found was that his brother lived in Viterbo, at least for a while as an adult. I suppose anything is possible.
January 22
Sofi and I take an early walk, because Dino is in Orvieto getting an acupuncture treatment. We walk down toward Aqua Puzza and Tomasso and Paolo drive up the strada bianca toward us.
"Stop!" I call out to Sofi, and Tomasso screeches on his brakes, the gravel underfoot spitting every which way. Sofi runs away from the car and I run after her. Once I catch her I return to apologise, but they smile and Tomasso utters, "Niente!" (It is nothing.)
Otherwise, the only person we see is Italo, who looks up at the blue sky and tells me it's "...sempre Primavera" (always Spring).
I have an art lesson, and we decide to take the painting I've been working on of the four large zucca (squash). This self-teaching has lots of minefields, and I'm sure it is taking me longer to learn, but I'm enjoying the experience.
At Marco's we re-tool the painting, and I work from right to left making changes. By the time I leave four hours later I'm well on my way to finishing it. Next Monday I'll be done with it.
Poor San Vincenzo sits against an easel, waiting for me. It's his day today, and I don't even give him the respect of taking him out and painting his canvas a little. Next week I'll spend most of the session just on him. I promise.
We talk with Candace and Frank in San Francisco, and don't know if they'll join us in Provence at the end of April. Either way, we're going, and will book a place before the week is out. That reminds me. I'll have to call Pascale soon to tell her we're coming and to make plans for at least one lesson.
The wind starts up, and by the time we reach home we can tell that bad weather is on its way. Today the temperature reached 70 degrees, but in the next 48 hours it will drop 20 degrees or more mid-day. Our freezing nights are about to return, and with it a major rain storm. We're ready...
January 23
Wind whips across Mugnano throughout the night, and at first light we watch three cypress trees next to the lavender leaning, leaning...
Closer to the house, the smaller nespola (loquat) tree shakes its sturdy leaves, seemingly up and down, as if it's a medieval woman shaking out crumbs from her skirt.
We've been warned to expect a storm, and although I can't see rain, there are tiny drops sitting against the south-facing window. Sticks that are the branches of the plum tree bounce about as if to say, "Help us! Help us!" I can see just a few of them, for the shutters are partly closed and locked, showing only a few inches of light.
And then it begins...first with the tiny clicking sounds of rain against the glass...followed shortly by waves of it ...again and again and again. And all the while the fragile branches of the plum tree call out, "Help us! Help us!"
While Dino returns to Viterbo for a showdown about our medical insurance, I work on sewing tabs for the kitchen curtains for the club, but the bobbin jams and I can't seem to figure it out.
This is another of my "self-taught" follies, and I am not an engineering sort, so the mechanics of it all drives me to distraction. When Dino returns, he'll fix the machine for sure. I can only sigh.
Might as well do more searching the internet for places to rent in April in Provence. I try to call Pascale, but can't get through to her. Might as well start the English muffins. Yes, English muffins. Dino loves them and we can't buy them here, so I have a recipe and I'll fool around with it, adding some sourdough starter we bought in the U S. Why not?
Today is a day of false starts. I never get to the English muffins, but do find a way to fix the sewing machine myself by locating the book (in Italian) and figuring out that I need to adjust the tension. Dino chimes in with an offer to help, but before he's able to begin I've fixed it. I sometimes amaze myself.
While I'm sewing away at the tabs for the curtains, I wonder how curtains can be sewn in a cost effective way that have tabs. There must be some kind of automated process, for the darn things take forever.
I need about sixty tabs for the six curtains, and all the while I'm sewing I'm hearing Dino's words, "Why ever do you do this to yourself? The curtains don't need that much detail."
Yes, Dino is absolutely correct. But since I have no other winter sewing project, might as well tackle this and see if I can pull it off. Some of the insane things I do I do just to test myself.
The final disposition is really not all that important, other than to complete the task, although whatever I'm working on must be done very well. Give it a break, I tell myself, rolling my eyes at...me!
Dino returns just before pranzo to tell me that he has been successful at ASL (the regional medical insurance office in Viterbo). The woman he met with called the same capo as the others did on other occasions, but presented her case to him and he agreed to let me continue for another year as Dino's dependent.
I'm not sure if I understand all of this, but we now have coverage until our permesso di sojourno (residency permits) expire in May of 2008. Confusing, but let's not rock the boat. Ordinarily the dates of these certificates are on a calendar year basis.
I think I have been given a "gratuita" or gift of this. The actual details are somewhat flimsy.
This afternoon in the rain Dino ventures out to visit Bifferoni, our local doctor, for more prescriptions. Prescriptions are doled out like candy from the teacher, but in Italy they're given out by the local doctors.
Later this afternoon we drive to Viterbo to visit my gynecologist, and I'm not looking forward to the visit. She is expensive and usually spends about three minutes with me. This woman is not on the regular Italian medical insurance, for we are unable to find a good gynecologist who is.
The last doctor on the state system who gave me a gynecological exam was an elderly handicapped man who was unable to get around except by metal crutches. I won't go into the details, but lets just say I don't look forward to seeing him again.
This doctor is a "keeper", although she's a bit remote. She sees me and examines me and tells me I'm fine in about three minutes. One hundred euro later we're out the door to pick up a few prescriptions. She took care of me so quickly that I forgot to ask her for a recommendation for a general practitioner in the zone.
Frank and Candace will join us after all in Provence in April, so we continue our search....
January 24
We all drive down to Rome this morning, to find an art store near Duccio's house. We find an almost-legal spot right across from his house and Sofi guards the car while we follow him a few blocks away to one of the many art stores in Rome.
They do not have the wooden components for the frames, called telaio, in the size we need, but we do find the tenaglie (metal pincers used to stretch the canvas) and buy one as well as a book on making icons.
Stein and I have spoken about making icons, and a friend of his is an expert at making them. So he has invited his friend for a week sometime this spring, and this will be a good advance primer for us. If the friend does not come, perhaps we'll be able to make one or two anyway.
After leaving Duccio and wishing he and Giovanna a happy wedding anniversary, we stop at a famous panificio for bread, and Dino picks up two loaves as well as goodies for pranzo.
We drive home under a mixed sky, with plenty of rain and here and there plenty of sun. After pranzo we continue our research for our Provence trip, and agree on a place to rent. Tomorrow we'll reserve the ferry, but are in for a slight shock. We will take the ferry to Toulon but will have to return from...Barcelona!
We have to laugh, and agree to not let a small thing like last year's major robbery in Barcelona daunt us. We'll just drive right to the ferry and wait at the dock until it's time to board, having pranzo somewhere on the coast way before we arrive in Barcelona. Our adventuresome spirits don't let a little bad news get the better of us.
Tonight we have cena with Alan and Wendy and a friend at Nonna Papa, and enjoy getting together with them and sharing stories. Their property sold amazingly quickly, and with plenty of profit in their pockets they are returning to Australia in March with new projects and new houses to work on. What a wonderful and profitable five years they have had here! We've enjoyed getting to know them.
January 25
We've had no snow overnight, but last night was cold enough, and it was windy enough, that we expected a real storm. The morning brings sun and little wind, so we're confident that the latest storm has passed.
Last night while driving down the Bomarzo hill to Mugnano in the dark, Dino was unable to put the car into second gear. We drove down that hill and up the Mugnano hill in third gear.
Under a streetlight in front of our house he looked down and found...a big flashlight blocking the gear shift! Earlier we lost power twice in the house and left with the flashlight in case we needed it.
For a few minutes we each silently pondered the possible replacement of the transmission of our beloved Alfa. Now we could laugh at ourselves instead.
Dino drives off this morning to Orvieto for an acupuncture treatment, and I fantasize about making costumes for the grand daughters. I have wanted to make angel wings, reminiscent of a costume I wore when I was three in a dancing recital. The wings were made of crepe paper, and the body of the costume was made of fifties-dusty pink satin.
Did I tell you about our idea about a rally/parade around Aqua Puzza during the festa weekend in May? Participants would be dressed in costume, or their "rigs" would be decorated, with a panel of judges located at the bus stop. If for some reason Terence and Angie and the girls will come then, the girls will have angel costumes.
There will be a grandparents' section of the rally/parade, with Nonno in the center, flanked by each grand daughter dressed as an angel. Dino would either be a farmer or a devil, depending on his "motivation". If for some reason they don't come then, they'll have the costumes anyway.
I'm itching to draw, and to paint, and sketch a figure that I will transform into a pastel. I'll show the basic drawing to Marco first next week, then complete the pastel at home. He counsels me to begin a project with him, then finish it at home.
This subject is a man in a big cape and a hat with a large brim, worn back on his head. He is seen mostly from the rear, and holds a staff in his left hand. He's probably a shepherd. It's in my "folds of fabric" mode, and although I initially thought I'd do it in pale brown and beige and white chalk, now think I'll do it in a darker green and brown.
We've found a place in San Remy for our April vacation and sent the contract back, have made our reservations on the ferry, Angie the dog sitter from Rome is booked, so all the preliminary work is done for our vacation. All that's left now is the dreaming, and I'm always ready for that.
Planning and pondering about vacations are wonderful activities. Anticipation can be a wonderful thing. I recall how we loved to plan and dream about our lives here before we actually moved, and now I love dreaming about our week in San Remy, a town we love.
In many respects, life here really is a dream. After working for so many years, retirement is a joy. Retirement in this little piece of heaven is all we could ask. But sometimes a change of scene is fun, too.
January 26
Dino views a very special property nearby, and we'll return to see it again before posting it on the site.
While he's gone, I've drawn an old man in a long cape, and it comes out so well I've decided that I'll complete it in three mediums: drawing in pencil, a pastel, and an oil. Because I've been reading about Michelangelo and his "cartoon" drawings as preliminaries to paintings, I have a real respect for the initial drawing part of each painting. This latest subject is based on part of a painting known as the Lodovico Carracci Madonna. What fun I have!
I'll draw a second copy, one that I'll use to outline the oil painting and then use chalk to do what is called a pastel on top of the outline. I don't know why the medium is called a pastel, for the chalks are not always a pale color. I have renewed excitement about my craft. There is always, always something new...
We hear from Helga and Stein, and the message is so funny I have to laugh. He's moving into a new house in Finland, and has so many glasses to put away that he tells Helga to break some if they won't fit. I can hear him laughing now, his big belly of a laugh and his blue, blue eyes. We really miss them.
The curtains for the "club" are finally finished, and what an undertaking they became! It is all for a good cause, especially if Antonio agrees to lead a group to clean up and paint the kitchen. With the feast of San Vincenzo this weekend, we'll have another opportunity to use the hall, and will certainly see if we can drum up enough interest to move forward on transforming the kitchen.
We're both hoping that we can also convince Antonio that we need to build a bocce court behind the building, but one step at a time...
The day is cold but not so dreary. My January blahs have ended, and I'm happy to be drawing and painting. Tomorrow we'll pick up the pastel of the capes, framed by our favorite framer in Amelia and Dino will hang it in the kitchen. What fun! Tia asks us to stop by on the way home so that she can see it. Come no?
He now wants me to do a series of capes, and that's fine with me. Let's see how this first one looks up on our kitchen wall behind the sofa. Dino wants me to paint his grandfather sitting at a kitchen table peeling and orange with the open door in the background. Sure. Some day.
January 27
With sun streaming in through the partially open shutters, we're all ready to face the day.
After a trip to Viterbo to pick up baby pink crepe paper for the angels' wings and a few more pastels and paint, then a stop at Michellini to look at apple trees (we're still not certain we have picked out the correct ones), we drive on to Amelia to pick up my first pastel, "three capes in a closet", from the framer, then stop for a minute at Tia's so that she can take a look.
Here it is:
I work some more in the afternoon on two drawings, and stop for the afternoon, deciding not to do any more until I meet with Marco. I need to finish the squash painting and get some advice about these pastels, but I really must move on to the painting of San Vincenzo.
Tonight we drive up to the borgo, spending a few late hours making panini at Livio and Gigliola's with Mauro and Laura and Livio and Gigliola. We're really quite a squadra (team), this festarolo committee a certain success. By the time we're through, we've made hundreds of the little paninis and have eaten one of my persimmon puddings as a treat. We're all really tired.
It's a beautiful clear night, and we're happy to return home to little piccola and get right into bed...
January 28
Today Mugnano celebrates the feast day of San Vincenzo, for he is our patron saint along with San Liberato. Right at 8AM the first cannon blast reverberates across the valley. There are four or five blasts, fifteen seconds or so apart, and this is the traditional way of announcing a saint's holy day. Sofi is less than happy, rushing under the bed and whimpering.
We're dressed and walking up to the club by 9:30, passing by a growing number of musicians from the Bomarzo Polymartium band. All together there are twenty-five of them plus their leader, and their winter costumes come complete with black baseball caps with their insignia emblazoned on the front. "Batter-up!" I think to myself. The hats seem out of place.
We lay out food and drinks for them, and after they've serenaded every street in Mugnano, they stop by for a drink and something to eat. Only one opts for a little homemade wine. We leave the building open for them, and walk up to church, where Dino puts on his confraternity garb and I take my blue Accion Cattolica scarf.
Laura comes over to sit next to me, helping to straighten my blue A C scarf over my coat. The mass begins, this time embellished with fifteen members of the Confraternity plus the adult choir from Bomarzo plus Don Renzo and Don Luca.
I do love the procession after the mass on these holy days, and take Candida's arm after she tells me she wants to take the walk. Marsiglia is at home preparing pranzo for their son and family, so I join my other favorite villager while Dino holds the banner of the Confraternita and walks up front in the procession.
So let's talk about the procession. For people who dream about Italy, dream about experiencing a slice of life in Italy, taking in a religious holiday with a procession and participating in it is a wondrous thing to do. Here's an idea of what to expect:
At a certain point near the very end of the mass, the men in costume walk quickly down the main aisle to the door of the church with the things they are to carry, followed by the priests and then the women and then the men.
People form two lines, with space in between for one designated confraternity member holding a wooden staff, I believe to designate his authority, and a woman holding the Accion Cattolica banner. These two are flanked on each side by single lines of women, and then men.
The band remains outside, and leads the procession, followed by five or more confraternity members with the Confraternita di San Liberato banner, two lanterns, and a huge crucifix under a kind of satin awning. Here in Mugnano, Otello always takes the crucifix, for he wears a leather strap around his waist to help hold the heavy structure in place.
I asked him one day how many years he has carried the crucifix, and I am sure it has been more than twenty...I don't think anyone else wants to take on this difficult but honored task.
Further back in the procession are the remainder of the confraternity members, in our village from six to twenty of them, depending on who is in the village at the time.
One priest walks with a microphone, and there is at least one, usually two or three priests, chanting the Ave Maria or other sacred prayers.
The band conductor raises his baton to begin, and we proceed around the Orsini Palazzo and down the hill across Via Mameli. Once we reach Giustino's building near our house, we return up the hill.
On San Liberato's feast day, and on August 15th the procession winds around every street, but today we're just walking down Via Mameli and back.
Our steps are slow and practiced, in time with the beat of the horns and drums. It's a sing-song-y walk, and because there is silence except for the reciting of certain prayers, it is time for reflection.
I think about the rationale of having a patron saint, and recent research has confirmed that the reason for a patron saint is a practical one. It is a reminder to the people of the town or village of the saint's holy and reverent examples of living a spiritual life. It brings people together and hopefully encourages them to treat each other with kindness and good will.
Today, the procession ends with Don Renzo holding the reliquary of San Vincenzo at the steps of the little church while each parishoner steps up in turn to kiss the glass.
Behind the glass we can see what appears to be two pieces of bone, purportedly those of the actual saint. We are told that there are religious orders that deal with the reliquaries of saints, but that is a story for another time...
I walk over to Tiziano and ask him if he's written the letter to Don Luca and he apologizes. I respond, "fa niente" (it is nothing), then ask if he'd like to ask Don Luca right now if there is any special wording that should be included in the letter.
Tiziano thinks it's a good idea, so we walk inside the church and wait until Don Luca walks out of the sacristy. Don Luca is not in a hurry today, and lingers with us, talking about the fact that this statue that we have is really not San Liberato.
Vezio, the bronze artist, appears, and we walk into the sacristy all together to look at the bust of San Liberato, which clearly shows a black-skinned saint. I offer that Vezio might be commissioned to make a body in bronze to go with the bust, but don't know what material the face is made of.
Vezio touches it and tells us it's some kind of lightweight metal. Sounds like my idea is not all that good. But Vezio is a bronze artist, and we are lucky to have him. If we could only find a real image of San Liberato, perhaps we can have him make a statue for the village.
Don Luca thinks that writing the letter is fine, and Tiziano will write it for his signature. So we continue, like turtles, on this slow process. At least we're moving forward.
Dino and I walk home and I fix a pasta sauce that Dino loves, but is in a way a little strange. I start with onion and carrots chopped and sautéed in olive oil, then add two bottles of heirloom tomatoes, a cup or so of sun dried mushrooms that have been heated in broth, several frozen cubes of basil, a little sugar, some oregano, and some rich broth. It cooks down somewhat and really makes a tasty sugo after sautéed meatballs have been added.
Later we walk up to the club to put out benches for the neighbors to watch the movies. Don Renzo brings the movies, as well as the equipment, and we begin only twenty or so minutes late. There are sixty or so people in the room, and we have plenty of benches. Between the second and third movies, Livio walks around with tiny plastic cups of popcorn.
Italians make fun of carabinieri the way some people joke about blonde women...or worse. "How many .... does it take..." We think carabinieri also laugh at themselves, for this clearly is a story within a story, a story of redemption and a story of goodness.
Interspersed are boffo Carabinieri characters, and the dialogue in these films is spoken in a local dialect. Don Renzo later tells me, "No one can really understand the dialect; it is not spoken in Italian." Does that mean that the people watching the films are as foggy about the actual conversations as we are?
After the three films we bring out more food; this time it's panini and sweets and drinks, and for a few hours or more it's time to socialize. We're tired, and after a while we leave, agreeing with Mauro that we'll clean up tomorrow. Italians love to sit around and talk, and it will be hours before the last person leaves, hopefully with the remaining food...
It's good to be home. It's good to have this event done without a hitch. Earlier, before Don Renzo left, he picked out the winning number of the day's lottery, and Valerio and Elena won the prosciutto. So we have more money for the festaroli coffers, and two friends go home with the prosciutto.
There are a little more than three months left to our festaroli year, and we expect to include before we are done: the festa della donna, pasquetta (the day after Easter), and then the big festa at the first weekend of May. It has been a lot of work but a lot of fun...so far.
January 29
Dino has an acupuncture treatment, so leaves early. He does not know if the treatments are working, but will follow through for a few more.
I have a class this afternoon, and complete the zucca painting. We bring it home and it is still wet, but I'd rather have it at home. Here it is. What do you think?
He nods, and shows me what I need to do to fix the figure. We have never had an actual anatomy lesson, but he shows me how to draw the basic figure first, then add the clothes. That makes sense, and of course I've done it backward.
I have too much fabric, and the body is not aligned correctly with the head. So this week I'll redraw the drawings, there are two of the same, and next week we'll use a sheet of carbon paper to trace one onto a prepared linen canvas, then use that same drawing to complete a pastel, with chalk. The third I hopefully will have completed at home to his satisfaction, and mine and will be ready for framing.
In class I must return to San Vincenzo, for each week there is something that keeps me away from it. The zucca have taken a long time, longer than I thought it would take, but I am satisfied with the result.
Also in class Marco sees that I have not completely cleaned my brushes, and gives me a lesson on how to do that correctly. I ask him if he is going to send me to the corner, and he does not understand until I tell him that in the U S that bad children are sent to the corner for a "time out".
Everyone in the room laughs as he sends me to the sink in the back corner of the studio to wash the brushes carefully and completely with white soap and hot water. I am confused, for I thought only turpentine is used. But I am not correct. The sink is now called "Eva's corner", and when Dino arrives I am still there, so of course he is let in on the joke.
I like this group very much, and also like the free form of learning. It is a good thing I did not choose the other instructor in Viterbo, for I learn that his methods are very different: each student paints the same subject and one painting can take as long as a year. Marco knows I would not last long there.
I ask him if there is a problem with the speed in which I paint, and he tells me that no, he paints as rapidly as I do. I am progressing, and that's enough for me. Next week, when I return to San Vincenzo, I am sure that I will slow down markedly, for the detail in this painting, and the complexity of it, will take a great deal of concentration.
We return home with the painting, and one of these days may replace the three capes on the back wall in the kitchen with it. Now it needs to dry, and sits on the main easel in the dining room. Tomorrow it will get its first viewing, with Don and Mary here for pranzo.
January 30
Dreary fog wakes us, but we're not deterred. We'll revisit a new property this morning, then pick Don and Mary up from the train and fix them a welcome pranzo. They'll be here for a week, as Don tells us "to experience winter in Umbria." Yesterday Dino turned on their heat for them in Don's house, so the cold won't be quite as bone chilling.
It really hasn't been all that cold this winter, or are we finally adjusting to it? On occasion, nighttime temperatures have dropped to freezing, but that's about it. Winter in this part of Italy should be stormy, rainy, windy, but we've had very little of that so far.
Perhaps in the next few months we'll be hit with late winter storms, destroying the crops and the flowers, for buds have popped out during these past two weeks in all the warm weather.
That reminds me. It will soon be time to start the pomodori seeds in the guest bedroom. Wonder when the next full moon will appear....? The new property is wonderful, and it consists of two homes, to be sold separately or together. The couple that own the two houses loves their home, and will consider selling if they find one wonderful home to replace it.
In the meantime, we're treated to a tour of their two lovingly restored houses, full of Matisse-like art and color, touches of antique carved wooden pieces and old beams. The bathrooms and bedrooms are simple and stylish, the views are lovely.
One huge table and benches are to remain in the house. They were originally beams from the porchiao and are so heavy that they cannot be moved. Placed in the loggia on the second floor overlooking a lovely view, I can imagine wonderful meals and days and nights sitting out here with friends.
We finish our tour just in time to pick up Don and Mary. Poor Mary has a baby stroller that she uses to balance a suitcase, and superman Don carries two or three huge pieces of luggage. At the train station, Dino walks down the stairs and up on the side where they exit the train, to help. I walk down the same stairs to find Mary and to help her. It's so good to see our good friends here again.
Off we go to our house, and Sofi greets us with customary joy. Then it's simple bruschetta with Diego's superb olive oil chicken risotto, a salad and the budino di kaki before a roaring fire. The day clears, and by the time we take them home to Tenaglie, the sun is as high as it's going to be and Don marvels at the heat rising off the brick columns outside the house.
Don buys six of my ceramic plates, and I am so happy that they will be able to enjoy them. I think my days of painting ceramics will be more of an afterthought, so look forward to selling what we have. I will make a set of dinner plates for us to use when the weather is better, but for now am pleased to lower the inventory.
We love showing our friends my latest paintings, and the painting of the zucca is growing on me. I think it will hang in the kitchen soon, although Dino likes the capes hung there now, for the reflection off the glass gives us another view outside our kitchen window.
Dino gives Don's car a charge, and it starts right up. But we're drawn to the artichokes thriving in their garden, along with a few marigolds. They will have fun in this house, we are sure. We'll see them in a day or so.
Back at home, Dino walk up to Dottore Bifferoni for some prescriptions and to show him the results of his latest tests.
Before going up to bed, Sofi and I take another look at the zucca painting, and I love the roundness of the vegetables and how the shadow behind each one helps to emphasize their roundness.
I think I am not finished painting zucca. There should be a series of them, but for these I think I can paint them myself at home. Marco's pointers have left their mark on my brain, and I'd like to attempt a few more to see if I can capture the light and shadow and perhaps even some odd shapes.
January 31
I'm so tired that I don't want to get up, and at about nine I stuble out of bed. With another cold day ahead, I'm going to work on a drawing as well as make a big pot of vegetable soup.
Dino leaves for the Comune to drop off our request letter for the cemetery plot, but neither Francesco nor the sindaco are around. We don't know how long we'll have to wait for our answer. Stay tuned...
After working on the drawing, based on Marco's suggestions, I realize what he is doing. and think I might need to do some anatomy studying. Since I'm rereading The Agony and the Ecstacy, a story about Michaelangelo, I understand how important the anatomical form is to any picture of a person.
After pranzo, Dino and I hang the zucca painting in the kitchen, and the capes are relegated to the dining room. I really like having this painting in the kitchen. It fits well here.
Since this is the end of the month, we'll get ready to post, for we do try to post at least twice a month, no matter how busy we are. We look forward to hearing from you, and I especially want to hear what you think of the paintings...
That's it for January, 2007. C'è vediamo.
FEBRUARY 2007
February 1
Yesterday, I called my gynecologist to get some advice about a prescription that she gave me last week. She was not available, and when she called me back could not understand what I was asking her. She was unwilling to try to understand my feeble Italian. So I'll call the office and see if she can fit me in between patients.
This is a good example of what a new resident would have to go through who does not speak the language well. Our pharmacist thinks there is a woman who works at the ASL office (Italian Health Dept) in Viterbo who can help us find a doctor who speaks English. I'm hoping we can speak with her today.
The subtleties of what I am trying to communicate are a frustration both for the doctor and for me. I know I should take the time to learn the tenses and the verbs and the conversation, but I just don't think I have it in me. I'm going to take my chances...for now.
The best thing I could do is to find someone nearby who would be willing to speak with me for an hour a day in Italian who also understands a little English. But in this village no one speaks English. Well, Paola does, but she's young and works in Rome. She is not a candidate.
Dino speaks Italian much better than I do, and in cases where he's dealing with muratores or bureaucrats, he manages just fine. We're able to slog through just about everything here, or at least Dino is. This particular challenge has given me pause...
And beside...I'd rather paint. The wood we have ordered to make a couple of special sized frames has come in, and we'll pick that up to make some new frames. One was specially ordered for Pascale's Bull, so I'm anxious to frame that one.
Once it has been framed, I'm going to paint some shadows in the corners to set it off better. And we need more gesso. Dino is so happy with the results of my painting that he tells me to not worry about anything...just paint.
We've agreed that I will paint a series of capes similar to Pascale's Bull, and perhaps the next one will be red and fire-y with possibly also a sword and the arm of the bullfighter. So what does a bullfighter's cape look like? After a little internet search I find out that I should, and will, paint it in magenta, with a yellow lining.
Something to remember if you're coming to Italy for a trip and will be driving around...There is less traffic at the end of most months on the main roads. Italians who rely on their pensions, and there are many, run out of money at the end of the month and don't have money to buy gasoline, which is very expensive in Italy.
This strange bit of trivia seemed true these past few days on the road. Now if you're coming to Italy during the late spring and summer months, you'll be joined by other tourists, so all bets are off then...
It's late morning, so back to my language adventure. The original medical appointment with this private doctor cost €80. I hope to not have to pay this same amount again just because the medicine she prescribed had a side effect. It was not her fault, not my fault, but paying another €80 to speak with her for three minutes does not seem reasonable. Allora...
I call the office, after Dino leaves for an acupuncture treatment in Orvieto. Corragio (courage) Eva, corragio!
An assistant answers the phone and dottoressa is not in the office. I am somewhat relieved. Yes, I am really a wimp. I tell the woman that during a telephone conversation yesterday, I used the wrong word to tell her what was wrong. I told her I had a temerio, which is an adjective and means hasty or rash. Today I tell the woman I have an eruzione, or rash. Yes, the word I want to use is a noun. Boh!
I am concerned about the money, and when she asks me if I want to speak on the phone or to "pass by", I tell her that dottoressa would rather see me in person. Is there a charge if I make an appointment? Yes. Well, it's only to speak about the medicine. All right. Well, come by this afternoon at a quarter to five.
I call Dino on the cell and I can see him smiling. He congratulates me on my effort, an effort that still has its doubts. In the meantime, I clip some roses, for today is an exquisitely warm and lovely day.
Two rose plants sitting on the ground in pots have long and droopy branches, and I think they'd be wonderful sitting on top of a wall, draping over the side. Which ones are these? I believe they are named Cornelia. I clean them up, but leave many of the branches long.
It's still early, so I do some drawing. This afternoon the art store will be open and we will purchase the wood for the frames. Then Dino and I will do the stretching of Pascale's Bull, for the paint is dry enough.
There is a big pot of tomato vegetable soup, made yesterday, and it's a good day for soup. I'm to not eat too much tonight and nothing tomorrow morning, for my hospital procedure is just after noon. Let's not think about the procedure and just enjoy the beautiful day...
As the day turns into evening, we drive to Dottoressa's and after about thirty minutes she agrees to see me, telling me she doesn't understand that I might be allergic to her prescription. Take the second medicine just the same and good luck.
I don't feel particularly warm and fuzzy, especially since she took about twenty seconds to give me her diagnosis. We really need another doctor.
We drive to ASL in Viterbo to find the woman who speaks English, but the office is closed for the day. We won't be able to return until Monday, but that's fine. Instead we drive to Klimt to pick up the special frame we ordered and magenta paint. And then we drive home, under what looks like a full moon...What?
In February, we need to start our seeds under a full moon. Does that mean we should start them now, or at the beginning of March? Since many of last year's tomatoes died on the vine with the rains in September, we'll need to start the seeds...now.
At home I take out all the seeds, the special coco-powders, root innoculant, special fertilizer....all purchased in the US and brought back on the plane in December. For the past few years we've purchased our seeds and related products from Golden Harvest Organics online. So we'll stick with them this year, too.
I soak about fifty seeds in bottled water and fertilizer for 24 hours, and tomorrow we'll rig up the planting in the guest bedroom, including the fluorescent light. This time, for the first time, we'll plant the seeds in their final pots, instead of transplanting them from tiny pots to medium pots to the final pots before they're put in the ground. Whatever does not take, does not take. If half of them sprout, we'll be fine. If more "take", we'll have plenty to share.
We wonder why we can't do all this in the serra (greenhouse) and I'd like to, but the temperature needs to be around 65 degrees Fahrenheit and for the next couple of months that won't be possible. Nights drop close to freezing, and the best days don't rise much about 15 degrees C.
We could purchase a heater, and program it to be on at night in the serra, but don't think we're there yet. The serra really doesn't work for us, after all that planning. The southern exposure is great, and we have electricity there, so perhaps an oil heater on the ground will work after all. We'll see. Come no?
Just as I begin to think we'll have a few slow months ahead of us, I have a feeling that things are going to "heat up" instead. And as we get ready for bed, Shelly emails us that there is ADSL being offered in the area. Sounds too good to be true, and it looks expensive. We'll have to check it out....
February 2
Today is Groundhog Day, Saint Blaise, and the Blessing of the Throat this afternoon at mass...I need the blessing this morning, for I have a procedure around noon with a tube stuck down my throat....Yikes! I'm hoping they'll knock me out first.
The day begins with bright sun, and Dino is sure to spray the fruit trees. It's important to spray them before they begin to bud. We have never had luck with our peach tree, for there is a blight that is particularly common in this area that attacks fruit trees, especially peach trees. But then again, Dino has never sprayed early enough. There is so much to remember. Is today early enough?
I long for peaches from our own tree, golden and sweet, the red juice rolling down my arm as I stand over the sink devouring a ripe one. Yes, I think of you Sarah, and of the peaches we ate one summer here in our kitchen, looking out over the Mugnano valley.
I'm keeping myself busy this morning, hemming some lovely material purchased in Provence last fall to make a tablecloth for the long table outside the front door. I have to put my sewing projects away, for the seeds will take center stage in the room later this weekend.
While it's sunny, I rinse the olives that have been soaking in a bath of sea salt and water since November. I can't try one today, but Dino does and tells me they're great. So I rinse them off, put the back in a bath of sea salt and water and this weekend or early next week will put up the olives. Since we don't have a tremendous number of trees, this seems to be a fun and enjoyable way to process them.
At noon we leave Sofi in the kitchen and drive north to Orvieto on the A-1. The trip is mostly silent, with me concentrating on the view, the trees, the Oasi, the hills, the buildings...Everything seems so clear today.
At the hospital, we know just where to go, and to wait. The wait is around twenty minutes, and right at one o'clock I'm staring at a clock on the wall in a procedure room. I'm here for an "endoscopia digestiva" to determine if I have a hernia, and if I do if there are any problems.
I know in advance to ask to be given an injection to "put me out", similar to what they give when one gets a colonoscopy. I'm a little nervous, and don't like the idea of a tube being stuck down my throat. So I ask. And the momentum around me stops short.
Yes, I can have something. The doctor and a woman next to him who will be performing the procedure somehow think I am Russian, and ask if I can speak English. Ha. Ha.
I show a woman the best spot in my inner elbow to find a vein, for my veins are difficult to locate. It takes her a while, and everyone stands around and waits. I am given something like valium, mixed with something else, after I'm asked what medicine I take and if I'm allergic to it. I remember putting my head down and turning over on my side. I'm fully dressed, except for my glasses and my shoes.
The next think I remember is a tugging after the tube is in my throat for a bit, and I'm feeling squeamish. They seem to jog it right and left and hey, can't you keep it still? I start to get squeamish and then I can't really remember a lot. I can't remember the tube coming out. There. That wasn't too bad.
Remember, this is my journal. You won't be tested so you don't have to read it:) .
Dino comes into the room and the gurney is moved into a quiet room next door. After a while, we're able to leave, and tomorrow we'll return with a signed paper and a biopsy will be done and returned to the hospital within fifteen days.
Biopsy. I read the report and it doesn't look all that bad. Now I'm interested to find out what I have and what kind of treatment I'll need to have.
I'd like a milkshake, and on the way home we stop for ice cream and milk. Dino mixes one up for me while I fix us scrambled eggs. In the meantime, Don and Mary arrive for a visit, and we chat for an hour until it's time to leave for mass.
Today honors St. Blaise, and the mass is known as the blessing of the throat. Don and Mary leave and Dino walks up to mass. I'm not feeling well enough to go, so Sofi and I stay home and watch T V.
Dino returns with "salutis' " from the neighbors, and we settle in for a quiet night. My throat is sore, but that's to be expected. I'm happy to have the procedure over with, and we both feel very good about the hospital and the quality of the care. I think the procedure cost €45. Multiply that by 100 for what it would cost in the U S...
February 3
In one of the bureaucratic processes that drives Dino nuts, we stop at the Attigliano post office to pay for my biopsy to be done, then with the receipt drive half an hour to the hospital in Orvieto to turn in the receipt.
On Monday, the biopsy will be sent somewhere else for processing, and in ten days or so we'll have the results. Why can't we pay at the hospital? I really have no idea. But we can't.
At the COOP in Orvieto I see a package of cece flour, I assume made of cece beans, or garbanzo beans. I remember reading a recipe somewhere that used this flour, so we pick up a package.
We're really here for Total "0", which is the closest approximation to sour cream that is available in Italy. I'm wanting a crispy baked potato for pranzo with our vegetable soup. Dino opts for a steak with his potato. Some American tastes remain...
Back at home the sun is so bright that temperatures soar. We're in shirtsleeves and vests, working on the terrace. Dino brushes two coats of golo di coniglio on two large canvases. He's getting very comfortable with the process.
Along with a grilled steak and baked potato for Dino and a potato and vegetable soup for me, I mix the cece flour with water and fry up some fritters in a little pan. I've mixed minced rosemarino and added sea salt and grindings of pepper and they are really tasty, especially with the fake sour cream. I love experimenting, and these cece things are worth repeating...
It's time to get the heirloom pomodori seeds from the U S planted, so we take two bricks of coco-peat and mix the fiber in a bucket of water. Once it becomes fluffy, I set it out on the table in front of the kitchen and fill fifty-two full sized pots with the stuff, leaving more peat for...whatever.
Once the pots are full, and I've cleaned off a bit, Dino walks out to the fence and hears "Ciao, Roy!" from the front path. It is the twins, Edoardo and Cristian, and we take Sofi down to say hello. But they're spiritoso (full of energy), and push open the gate and bound up the stairs, then into the front hall, checking out the kitchen and dining room until Dino moves them back outside.
These twins are all over the place like a basketball in motion on a court. Their grand mother calls up to them, but they tell her they're helping me plant seeds. Come no?
I bring out the tiny seeds sitting in a fertilizer and water bath, and show them how to poke a hole in the center of each pot of peat and insert a seed. They like the poking part, but have no patience for the tiny seeds.
Cristian tells me he'll poke while I put in each tiny seed and close up the soil. At least I think it's Cristian. I cannot tell them apart.
Edoardo tries to get Sofi to play ball, and she runs after the ball but they're still a little too wild for her. All the while the grandmother stands in front of Augusta and Maria who are sunning themselves on our little stone bench at the end of the walk, not knowing what to do.
After a while they run down to her. I'm sure she'll give them at least a verbal thrashing. I like these boys very much. They are sweet and fun, although a little rambunctious. I look forward to showing them the plants as they grow. I ask one of them if he likes the life of a contadini and he smiles and tells me he does.
They are just starting to learn English, so Dino asks them how they are and although they are both smart, they're too full of fun to be serious. We'll have fun with them as they learn more and more words...When the granddaughters arrive, we are sure they will be here running around with them. By then they'll know a few more words...
With the pots moved upstairs to the guest bedroom South-facing window, that room is now our internal greenhouse. If Annika stays here in a couple of weeks, she'll undoubtedly stay in our room, unless she really wants to commune with nature. By then there'll be a tableful of plants learning toward the sun...At least we hope there'll be sun...
It's still warm, so we take Pascale's Bull outside with the newly made frame, and I hold it while Dino stretches the canvas around the frame. It really works well, the oil paint dry enough so that it won't come off, but not too dry so that it will chip. The staples are affixed to the back of the frame, so that the sides are painted and become part of the art.
Dino tells me that he has seen frames that are made so that a canvas can sit inside them, so that the edge shows, meaning that none of the front of the canvas is covered up. If we frame Pascale's Bull, we'll want that kind of frame.
Until we decide where to hang it, we lean it above the fireplace against the wall. I think I'll add some shadows to three of the corners, but for now I am happy. That is one painting that will never be sold. It is my first, and I am very proud of it.
It's olive time, and after almost three months in water and sea salt baths, changed about once a week, the olives are ready. So I rinse them off and make a brine of vinegar and water for most of them. They'll sit in a dark spot for a few months.
For two of the jars, I make a marinade of olive oil that is heated and seasoned with minced rosemary, minced thyme, lemon rind, pepperoncini, crushed garlic, crushed peppercorns, mustard and more olive oil. Before the mixture is poured on, I take the side of a large knife and crush each olive a little (some more than a little...sorry) to allow the marinade to sink in.
So the olives are done for the year, the seeds have been started, and I tell Dino that it feels as though this year has "begun"....from now on there will be something to do in the garden, or for the garden, almost every day....
Late next week, Silvano promises to strip and restain our front door, if the weather holds. We wonder what has happened to winter. This morning was very cold, but there is no rain and this afternoon is very warm. And now I read that the White House refuses to do much about global warming...I'm sure that will change...
I've had a sore throat from yesterday's procedure, but Dino bought a very thick solution for me to take three times a day and it is already working. What a guy!
We go to bed early, for tomorrow after church Don and Mary will be here, for a visit to our favorite monthly mercato in Pissignano outside Spoleto. We'll then eat at our favorite restaurant around there, and I'm sure they'll serve ribbollita. This twice-cooked soup famous in Italy and served almost everywhere during the wintertime is made with beans and black cabbage.
Since our vegetable soup is almost finished, I'll make some ribbollita myself this next week. We have some cavolo nero (black cabbage) that we planted this fall, but it is very puny. It must have been planted too late. There are still plenty of leaves, and we'll have enough to make at least one big potful.
February 4
Sure it's cold, but there is plenty of sun, and we're up and walking up to church with our coats open. It is warm for this winter day.
Gigliola greets