Il Mio Sogno

Dual Citizenship for Mabel

2012-01-21T14:36:00.001+01:00

Yesterday was a day of special significance for Mabel and me: Our 12th anniversary of the day Mabel adopted me as her mommy and Mabel became an Italian citizen. Remember that Mabel is an American doggy from Los Angeles who now lives in Florence, Italy.

Mabelina...

We went this morning to the animal ASL (L'Azienda Sanitaria Locale, part of the Italian health care system), where Mabel received her Italian (EU) passport.

...and her EU passport

Mabel is plenty proud today knowing she now has dual citizenship and is welcomed again on trains and planes.
Like her mommy, she loves going places!

La Befana and Gregorian Chant Concert

2012-01-06T23:46:00.000+01:00

Today is another religious holiday and officially marks the end of the Christmas season. The holiday is Epiphany. In Italy, the holiday is known as La Befana. The witch with a bag of coal will grace some of us if we've been bad in the past year; otherwise, we receive some little gifts of goodies. I am happy to move on and forward into 2012.

Next Monday most businesses and schools will resume their regular work hours. But today is definitely a holiday here, which means the streets are extra crowded with people. While out for our morning walk, Mabel and I had to work our way around what felt like a gauntlet of baby buggies drag racing. There is an abundance of strollers out there today. Do not think speed, however; I place emphasis on the word "drag" as opposed to "race."

A View of Florence from Above

San Miniato al Monte

Up the hill and overlooking Florence at Piazzale Michelangelo is the Basilica of San Miniato al Monte where there is a special Gregorian chant concert in honor of the holiday. I will learn later that the information previously emailed to me provided the incorrect time for the Gregorian chant; and it will turn out that my friend and I will arrive at the church as the chanting is nearly complete. We will have enjoyed only some of the chanting but much of the art in this church -- from the painted wood beam ceilings to the paintings and freschi on the walls, the sculptured tombs, and the zodiac mosaic floor, as well as the always breathtaking views from above the city.

Speaking of breathtaking, no more bated breath waiting for the onslaught of tourists to abate, I can resume normal breathing as the holiday season is officially over and things go back to normal.

New year/new beginnings.

Dark Days, Light Heart

2011-12-18T18:19:00.000+01:00

We are only a few days away from the winter solstice, the darkest time of the year, which also means we are well into the holiday season. In America, the Christmas holiday season officially begins with Black Friday, the day following Thanksgiving, and that offers sales galore for shoppers. In Italy, the Christmas season officially begins the day of Immaculate Conception, December 8. The streets are lit with Christmas lights and decorations. Christmas festivals fill piazzas. Stores here also are busy with holiday shoppers. The hustle-bustle of the holiday season has taken hold.

This time of year can be emotionally challenging and stressful for many of us. Many people can grow disconsolate, even despondent. I am one. I find the holiday season to be especially trying, as my family and long-standing friends are scattered around the world with the greater majority in California. I am in Florence, Italy. My newer friends here have mostly all returned to their "homes" wherever those might be. An Italian family has yet to adopt me. As a result, this time of year can feel very dark, just like the winter solstice.

In a time of gift-giving and romance and great cheer and spirits, it is unnerving to be alone and apart no matter how beautiful and memorable your surrounding environment. Florence is that beautiful and memorable. The choice is clear, even stark: We can focus on what we do not have or lack rather than what we do have.

I choose to be grateful for what I do have this season. Though my situation is not exactly how I envisioned it would be this year at this age, I make the most of what it is. In addition to my general good health is where I live. And I have work. I moan and whine about having to work. (At my core, I am a lazy slug.) But having work not only earns some money, it keeps me involved in my career and it makes me accountable to someone somewhere and helps keep me out of trouble. I have people in my life that matter to me, and I know I matter to my family and friends. This year I stick to my routines and rituals, which ebb and flow. However, the last couple months I am in the flow. It feels good to do some of the things that support my emotional, physical, and spiritual health.

In only a few days we will be on the other side of the solstice, and the days will begin to get lighter and brighter and so will the spirit. During some of the down time during the holidays, I make it a practice to reflect on the year now past and map out where I want to go and what I want to accomplish for the year ahead. I note my specific and clear intentions on paper. I look forward to that project, which requires my attention and diligence and is positive in direction and result.

What holiday / year end / new year rituals and practices do you engage in?

Along the Arno River, Florence, Italy

2011-12-02T17:14:00.000+01:00

An everyday autumn day with light so spectacular I have to be outdoors.

View of the Duomo taken near Ponte alle Grazie, Otrarno

Ponte Vecchio

Santa Croce

I admit this foto was not taken from alongside the Arno, but I like the light.

Florence Marathon 2011 / Firenze Maratona 2011

2011-11-27T23:27:00.000+01:00

I devoted 12 years of my life to long-distance running, which feels like another life ago. Sometimes I ran marathons, which surprises new friends because I am not now in my best physical condition, shape, nor weight. I do not miss running. I always had a love-hate relationship with it anyhow. As with many past relationships, I stayed in this one too long.

Despite the time invested and my efforts, I never was the level of athlete who stood a chance of winning the race. I trained hard, yes, but I also made a point to have fun with my training and the marathons. While training on the weekends of long runs -- 16, 18, 20 mile runs -- it took me close to double the time of the fastest runners. Now that I think about it, that makes me more of an endurance athlete than those winning the purse. Don't you agree? Elite athletes today finish a marathon in just a little over two hours, whereas I finish in about five hours. Think of how much time I spent on all those long runs. Do you see my logic? I trained double the time the elite athletes do. They might be elite athletes, but I am the endurance athlete. Okay. Somehow I think I have not convinced you.

The sky today was crystal clear and bright blue in Florence, Italy; the temperature barely 60 degrees Fahrenheit, at its warmest, and dry -- an ideal day for a marathon race. I raced to the start line of the Firenze Marathon to watch approximately 11,000 marathoners take off on an all-new, completely flat course.

The new course

I watched every runner cross the start line.

At the start

The very last person to cross the start was one sole racewalker.

Lone racewalker

I could have been the second racewalker. I considered it a few months back, researched to see if they even had a racewalking category. Nope. When I quit running many years ago, I took up the Olympic sport racewalking, which I love. I even completed one half marathon as a racewalker, which was satisfying for me because after the halfway point and all the way to the finish, I passed many joggers who were envious that I walked faster than they could run. I would love to get back into this sport and prefer to train with friends. Please contact me, if racewalking interests any of you local readers. A heads-up, though: racewalking is a funny-looking sport and does draw a bit of attention.

Throughout the day, I raced around to various points on the course ... and eventually ended up at the finish line.

I love seeing the elite athletes and am proud to see the woman in the lead on the course (known in Italy as the "prima donna").

But the athletes who most excite my interest are the ones like you and me, average, and the athletes with physical challenges, who, just by running the race, remind me that anything is possible if we choose to believe.

Barefoot

A man and his posse

I saw miracle after miracle cross that finish line today. And I choked up with tears many times. I know from personal experience the many emotions runners experience during the hours of running a marathon. Seeing the runners as they turn that final corner and can see the finish line just 100 or 200 hundred meters ahead provides a surge of adrenalin that gives the power to sprint home with all you have got -- all you have left -- head held high, across that finish-line tape. Some runners in sheer pain and anguish; some overwhelmed with triumph and victory; some crossing arm in arm with someone who gave them strength to keep going not only today but during their training; some with their child or spouse who supported their run; one hopping on crutches.

They spent all their energy

My hero. Very young man ran his first marathon in 4:20

Perhaps next year I will volunteer for the Florence Marathon 2012, or perhaps I will be racewalker No. 2 to compete and go the distance 42 kilometers and 195 meters (26.2 miles). Wanna do it with me?

Day After Day in Florence, Italy

2011-10-31T13:11:00.000+01:00

I hope the day never arrives when I take Florence for granted, that it becomes ordinary. Because Florence is not ordinary, it is not plain, it is not just another city. I never want to stop noticing this city's beauty. Florence, for me, is magical.

Costa de' Magnoli

This morning I attempted to capture, in a photograph, that feeling of magic Florence inspires in me. The scene above is one I walk past several times each day, and each time its beauty takes my breath away.

In the morning light, a patinaed wall takes on a softer shade of orange, the brilliance of pink bougainvillea stretching towards the sunlight and groping an ancient wall, the curves of an ancient cobblestone street, the bombardment of light just beyond the tiny, dark tunnel.... Simple, I know. Perhaps it is unordinary in an ordinary way, and so extraordinary. See what I mean? The total effect equals beauty. Spectacular. Magical.

Perhaps you agree.

FAGIOLI SERPENTI / TUSCAN SNAKE BEANS

2011-10-24T18:52:00.000+02:00

Beans of all kinds are a staple of the Italian diet. Today I was in the mood to experiment with a different vegetable. At Mercato Centrale, I asked my fruttivendolo (greengrocer) the difference between the string beans and the serpenti beans, which look like a skinnier, longer (~18 inches long) version of string beans. He explained that the serpenti beans are much more flavorful and a Tuscan specialty this time of year. Sounded precisely what I was looking for.

He then taught me how to prepare them, and now I will share with you the simple instructions for these delicious beans.

Ingredients:

one bunch of serpenti beans or green beans
2 or 3 cloves of garlic
onion
an abundance of ripe cherry tomatoes
sea salt

Preparation:

Break off and discard the tips of the beans. Then break into semi equal size in thirds. Wash the beans
Boil a pot of water with sea salt. Throw the beans in the boiling water for about 20 mins.

In another pot, with a little olive oil, place the tomatoes cut in half into the pan. Add sea salt. Add garlic. In this case, crush the garlic with your hands and break the cloves into four or five pieces instead of mincing or chopping it. Add chopped onion. Simmer. To allow the tomatoes to reduce, I let it simmer while the beans were boiling.

Drain the beans but reserve some of the water to add to the sauce as the liquid evaporates.

Add the beans. Simmer five minutes with another clove of garlic if you, like me, can't get enough garlic. Add some of the reserved water, if necessary.

Enjoy. I just did. Yummy.

I would also steam brown rice or add a protein of my choice if I wanted to make this into a healthful and complete meal. A friend from San Francisco visits Firenze, and we will eat out tonight, which made this small meal a fun experiment in my kitchen. Now I have another yummy vegetable dish for the winter months.

Romeo and Juliet (Verona, Italy)

2011-10-23T17:42:00.000+02:00

"O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?"

"I am Juliet. Are you Romeo?"

I am no Shakespeare scholar -- I was not even an English literature major -- but I do know that, thanks to William Shakespeare's adaptation of Romeo and Juliet, Verona is known as the city of love and romance. I am told that Shakespeare never even visited Verona, and yet his imagination was so vivid that people flock from all over the world to the house of Juliet and her infamous balcony. So, too, did my friend S and I.

Juliet's balcony

We left Florence early in the morning on the Frecciargento (one of the fast trains) for Verona. While on the train, we watched the recent movie Letters to Juliet to help set the appropriate mood.

Throughout Italy, lucchetti dell'amore (love lockets) can be found. In Florence, for example, sweethearts in love write their names on their lockets, attach it to the gate, and throw the key over the shoulder into the Arno River as a symbol of their eternal love. Be prepared to pay a hefty fine, though, if caught! In Verona, feel welcome to leave your lockets of love, and even graffiti attesting to your love, at the house of Juliet.

Lockets of Love

Graffiti

I know where my Romeo is, and Verona he is not...

R&J cookie kisses

While S and I found neither love nor romance -- well, not this trip -- we discovered anew that Verona is lovely and romantic, a top destination in Italy's Veneto region: fantastic food, friendly folks, plenty of historical monuments and museums to visit. And Verona is particularly special to me because it is the first place I visited on my very first trip to Italy.

-- Giosalina, Verona, Italia

18 ottobre 2011

Blogger Meets Reader

2011-10-13T23:38:00.000+02:00

An interesting thing happened on our way home the other night.

Mabel and I were out for our evening stroll. We passed our gelateria, Cantina del Gelato, near home. Giuseppe, one of the two owners, was running into the pizzeria next door, saw me in the distance and shouted that he would be right back. "Wait for me!" he said. Mabel and I had no plans to go for gelato, not this evening. We often stop by just to say hi, though, as both owners are now friends.

Cantina del Gelato

When Mabel and I entered, a couple were choosing their gelato. The woman turned around, looked at Mabel, looked at me, did a double-take, and then asked me, "Are you the woman who wrote about this place on her blog?"

"I am. How did you know?"

Turns out she recognized Mabel from the photos on this site. (I tell you, my dog is world famous!) She told me, "Thanks to your blog post, my husband and I have been here twice a day each day we have been in Florence. We love the gelato, and we go home tomorrow."

Seems her Google search for gelato in Florence led to my post. Not only that, but it was the first on the page. (I am proud to learn that bit of news.)

The entire experience was very cool. Purely by chance I met a reader of my blog -- from Finland! -- in the very place I recommended readers should visit. Thank you, Coppia Finlandese (a couple from Finland), for recognizing Mabel, me, and saying hello. You made my day!

Mirtillo (Wild blueberries. Mmmm...)

I even merited a gelato on the house, and that always makes me happy.

A Delightful Episode of Sensory Overload: Istanbul

2011-10-03T16:40:00.001+02:00

One week in Istanbul was not enough time to visit all that my friend and I wanted to see and do. Relaxation time was not in our schedule, nor our vocabulary. Despite our racing about, I remember well the genuine and kind-hearted people we met.

I remember also sitting on the rooftop terrace at our guesthouse for one or two hours one afternoon under a grapevine canopy overlooking the Sea of Marmara with the sea breeze on my face while sipping Turkish tea, resting my weary feet ... finally absorbing all that touched my senses. What a wonderful people, culture, city, and holiday. I must return.

I hope my photos below capture the wonder I felt and help re-create, for you, the magic that is Istanbul, Turkey...

View of Galata Tower from the Golden Horn of the Bosphorus Strait

Hagia Sophia (first a church, then a mosque, now a museum)

Making bread and Turkish pancakes

How many different kinds of baklava are there?

Another Turkish yummy. Looks like birds' nests to me.

Selling melon

Passing the church/mosque mosaic

Mohammed and Omed, two new and young friends

Pistachio baklava

A "shish" lunch.

Spice bazaar

Turkish Pinocchio

A young friend anxious to grow into her shoes

Marble Halvah straight from the source!

Fresh-squeezed pomegranate juice in abundance in Istanbul

Corn on the cob

Smoking the nargile

On the Bosphorus looking at Asia heading towards the Black Sea

Nuts, I just like the foto

Selling Simit, which is like a sesame bagel that ran into a pretzel

"Yaya yolu" is a funny way to say "pathway"

Sugar cubes, a necessity for Turkish coffee and tea

Skyline of minarets

Bitter melon reappears even more colorful than before (See my earlier post)

I know it seems I ate my way through Istanbul, but I really did go to many monuments.

Turkish rugs and kilims

Among my many amazing experiences this holiday was shopping for a rug. I went to Turkey with the intention to buy one, and yet, I just might be one of the few tourists to return home without a rug.

Roots

2011-10-01T16:24:00.000+02:00

Two years ago today Mabel and I said goodbye to L.A. and hello to Florence, Italy, when we boarded the plane for our flight to our new home.

Leaving Los Angeles, one last ride in our car

I worried about her traveling for so long in the cargo hold below me: the noise, darkness, items shifting about. After all, my brother's dog, Sparky, made a similar flight from L.A. to Brugge, Belgium, a few years earlier. He went deaf from the flight but enjoyed the best year of his life living in Europe. A dog's life is pretty good here because people in Europe welcome dogs to go almost everywhere. No need to leave them behind anywhere.

Mabel is a real trooper. She acclimated immediately to her new environs. Never will I forget the picture I keep in my head when two airport employees hand-delivered Mabel to me, still in her crate, at the Florence airport. She was pert and alert. In the taxi ride to our new digs, Mabel rooted her tushy to the seat of the car between the taxi driver and me as she extended herself as tall as possible to look over the dashboard and out the window at all she would soon get to explore. She quickly spotted sights and smells centuries old that she filed away for future exploration.

Jetlagged, Mabel naps with her baby after arriving to Italy

Mabel is a lucky girl. Everyone does their part to spoil her, and she is adored by all.

It can be an exciting and scary adventure to uproot yourself from everyone you know and everything that is familiar and comfortable and transplant yourself to a different country with a foreign language. To move to and live in a city that welcomes thousands of tourists every day makes getting close to the locals even more of a challenge because the locals measure their roots by generations, not days. Why invest in a friendship with people who come but do not stay?

Not every day is la dolce vita (the sweet life/the good life), of course, but the obstacles and challenges are, for me, worth the deeply felt gratitude, joy, and happiness I now experience. Sure, I continue to find my way here. Slowly and con calma, everything begins to fall into place. The life of the expat has its own process and rigors to endure -- many days present new and different challenges -- but its objective remains true to our passion: to arrive safely on the other side of the wide chasm that separates our past lives from the future we envision and strive to create.

Radici (Roots)

My roots grow deeper as I make Florence, Italy, my home.

Giving Blood

2011-09-02T14:48:00.000+02:00

Not as a blood donor but for analysis, I gave up several tubes of blood this morning. As a private party, I visit a private clinic where women in navy blue dresses resembling flight attendants greet you at the door and escort you to the counter where you are helped and issued a receipt listing the services to be performed. A consultation with a doctor is provided, if desired or necessary.

Actually, I feel more like I am in a private villa than in a medical laboratory clinic. The building is lovely, filled with antique furniture and original artwork. Each painting has a label indicating the artist. I recognize many original works by Boccaccio. You wait to see a doctor or to be called for your lab work in small rooms with homey furniture as opposed to medical appliances and commercial furniture.

The phlebotomist asks if I fasted. I tell her yes and "non vedo l'ora" (I can't wait) until I will enjoy a coffee and breakfast since I am starving. Following the blood draw, I am escorted back to the studio and told to wait ten minutes when breakfast will be brought to me. What?! They serve me breakfast? My plan is to stop at the nearest bar for a cappuccino and eat when I return home. Fewer than ten minutes later, a woman rolls in a linen-covered table upon which sit a sterling silver vase with a fresh rose, Florentine china holding a pot of caffe Americano alongside a pitcher of hot milk, blood red orange juice, and a continental-style breakfast. The container that holds packets of sugar and sugar substitutes is sterling. I have to turn it over to look, which I also do with the china and not because I am a snob but because I am surprised at the level of attention to detail that is provided. Even the doilies are linen. Actually, I feel embarrassed to be treated so well at a clinic.

For the average Italian, the private medical system is too expensive. I admit the total lab work I do is not inexpensive. But even with my private health insurance in California, I am accustomed to a price more than double today's price for the same tests. And that is my out-of-pocket expense, not what I would owe after insurance pays their small portion and my $400-a-month premium, before the premium increased an ungodly percentage this past January.

The entire episode from the minute I walk in the door, order and pay for my lab work, wait, have the blood drawn, and have breakfast is under 30 minutes. Efficient. And that's not all. The results for the majority of the exams are available the same day after 12:30 p.m. either by returning to the clinic or having the results faxed or emailed to you. And for privacy (think HIPAA), you are issued a codice (code) to access your results.

Last fall, visiting another Tuscan town with family that visited from the States, we had a need for an ambulance. Two ambulances and six paramedics arrived within minutes, and treatment began immediately. No questions were asked about the name of the patient, health insurance information, means of payment, et cetera. Treatment was rendered, period. In the end, it may be a tie as to who was in more shock: the three of us at the way the system worked and medical attention was No. 1 or the six paramedics at our amazement that they wanted no payment, no insurance, no tip, nothing.

I am not saying one system is better, just different. I like what I have experienced so far with the Italian health system. With treatment and services that made me feel a bit like a queen today, I just may return tomorrow morning. I remain impressed.

Changes

2011-07-26T02:04:00.000+02:00

Most of us resist change. I do. I do not want to let go, give up the familiar or comfortable for the unknown and uncertain. Personal experience teaches me that usually any change will be even better than what I hold on to. Nonetheless, change is frightening.

A sunflower in its prime before its passage

to its next beautiful stage of life

I am now a wee bit beyond the big Five-Oh and struggle with graceful acceptance of the changes I see in my body. Emotionally, I am a mere twenty-something. Physically, I am -- well, I won't say. But I am at the age when my body goes through many changes faster than I can recognize them. Silent passage I think is what people call it. I am not ready! There are too many items I still want to do in my current stage of life. This stage of the aging process signifies some things I do not want to have to consider.

I know very little about this stage of life I enter. Somehow I thought I would be exempt, that these physiological changes would not happen to me. Guess what? It is time for me to come off my comfy, puffy, pillowy cloud of denial. The time is now to stop resisting, holding on so tight, and to begin to let go and accept what is happening. I can do whatever is in my power to retard the aging process, have fun, and keep my body in motion. As for my mind and emotional self, it is time to be even more rooted in who I am, develop those qualities that matter most to me -- past, present, and future -- and practice being more kind, compassionate, and self-accepting. Life is a process, a fact that makes more sense as I get older.

How do you welcome change in your life?

Satisfying Heart, Soul, and Belly in Florence, Italy

2011-06-11T23:54:00.015+02:00

You know that sharing my experience and knowledge of Italy in general and Florence in particular is something I love to do, if you have been reading my blog. Every now and then, though, I am embarrassed or disappointed when my sharing does not go off so swell. You know those times when you take your friends or family to a favorite restaurant, but it turns out to be an off night and the service is less than usual and you know your guests are unhappy or even displeased. Perhaps the waiter forgets to place the order of someone's pasta dish, or the food comes out one plate at a time and lukewarm. That type of thing happens, of course; so I become a bit reluctant to share my beloved favorite places. We all do.

Sweet pleasures

For the love of cappuccino

The other evening I passed a woman on the street whom I overheard asking in English to her husband, "Should we just ask someone?" I spoke up, as I usually do, and offered my assistance. The woman was delighted and receptive. They wanted to have a good meal, and I sent them to one of my all-time favorite restaurants in Florence. And off they went. I hoped my recommendation would prove just the place they sought...

This morning while Mabel and I were on our morning walk, that woman was standing at the base of Ponte Vecchio on the Oltrarno side staring at me. I didn't recognize her. She spoke up, "You are the woman who sent us to the restaurant for dinner, aren't you?"

Uncertain whether her experience was good or bad, I responded with hesitation, "Most likely. Where did I send you, and how was the food?"

The girls at OSP

She replied that throughout their dinner, she told her family that she wanted to find me and kiss me. The family loved their food, the service, the locale, and the piazza. And they loved that they were the only American family there, or so they believed.

Osteria Santo Spirito

Osteria Santo Spirito is one I happened upon in 2003, my first time in Italy. I was attracted because of the energy and atmosphere, and, all these years later, I keep coming back because the food is that good. It is simple, not fancy, elegant, nor expensive. The food is authentic and, oh, so delicious, though many tourists now know about it. (I am certain the fact that I direct nearly every tourist there that asks me for a dinner recommendation and each friend I take there ends up adopting the trattoria as their own adds to the number of tourists that eat there.)

Amy with risotto zucchini

As we were talking, the rest of her clan showed up - they are a family of 8 from Minnesota - and she told her family, "I found her; I found her. This is the woman that told us where to have dinner two nights ago."

Chitarra

A young girl about 9 years old asked her mother if she had kissed me yet. And the little girl told me she loved her spaghettata (spaghetti meal). I inquired which pasta dish she ordered and realized it was the chitarra (guitar). I explained to her the reason that particular homemade spaghetti is called chitarra is because, when the fresh pasta is being made, it resembles the strings of a guitar as it comes out of the pasta machine. She immediately grasped the connection, and her face lit up having that little bit of new information to take home with her. They all piped in, speaking at the same time, saying they needed me for other recommendations the last two days and wished they had had my phone number.

Mango, fragola, lampone gelato?

Local gelato supporters

Today is their last day in Florence. They asked me about gelato. I volunteered a lesson on the real stuff (gelato, that is) and sent them in the direction of Cantina del Gelato.

Getting coned

The ultimate compliment for me is the genuine feedback I receive and happiness I witness in others as a result of sharing my passion and experience. It's so simple and pleasurable that it makes me want to sing.

Art and Yoga in Florence, Italy

2011-06-06T20:11:00.000+02:00

What attracts me most to the sculpture Costellazione (constellation) in front of Palazzo Pitti is the apparent yoga asana (pose, posture) she is in, Tarasana (star pose). Tarasana is a grounding pose, allowing us to internalize our awareness.

Whether accidental or intentional by the artist, the similarity to the asana, the name of the sculpture, the diamond/star shapes in her body paint, I do not know. Actually, I do not believe in accidents nor coincidences. Everything happens for a reason, and, no matter our perception, it happens for our own good.

The Roman-born artist Rabarama, also known as Paola Epifani, currently has several sculptures on display throughout Florence, Italy.

Nostalgia / Homesick

2011-05-30T12:03:00.002+02:00

After five days' travel in the nearby regions of Le Marche and Umbria and a week-long absence from Mabel, my dog, who enjoyed her own holiday with an Italian family, we are again reunited. Mabel stays close to me and tells me when she wants to be petted and just how and where to carezzarla (to pet her). She is by nature a non-demanding little girl, but today she has no qualms asking for exactly what she wants and needs. I love her style.

Crossing the central Apennino mountains

Meanwhile, it has been my desire to see every square inch, or centimeter, of Italy since I first fell in love with this amazing place. However, this trip, I observed something out of character.

Fermignano (Le Marche)

Urbino (Le Marche)

I was homesick.

Abundance of sweet, fresh cherries

Castello della Pieve (Le Marche)

I have no memory of ever being homesick. I have traveled on my own, without my folks, since I was a fairly small child, and I do not ever remember looking forward to going back home. I always found it interesting when people say what a great trip they had, "but there is no place like home. Home Sweet Home." Only one time a few years ago do I remember being excited to return to Los Angeles, and that was because I was dating someone I was pretty crazy about and could not wait to see him again.

Urbino (Le Marche), Italy

Mercatale sul Metauro (Le Marche)

Sant'Angelo in Vado (Le Marche)

Only five days away from home this time, yet every day I longed for my home. I missed my people; Mabel; my daily rituals and routines (never thought I would say that); my bed, a matrimoniale (two twin beds zipped together and not long enough for my altezza (height) but I missed it nonetheless); my yoga mat and hoop; certain routes I take; certain people I see daily; a certain someone who gives me a juicy kiss.

Gubbio (Umbria) (above 2 fotos)

I could not help but wonder: What is wrong with me? What happened to my sense of adventure and my love for exploration? Maybe it had to do with the space I was in. This was a first for me.

Amicizia (friendship)

Lifelong friends and local men of Mercatale sul Metauro (Le Marche)

Old bridge and house at Mercatale sul Metauro

Without needing to figure it all out, what I observed this past week confirms for me that home is where the heart is, and Florence, Italy, is my home.

Growing old together

Gubbio (Umbria)

I am home!

My Dog, Mabel, Leaves for her Holiday in Campi Bisenzio, Florence, Italy

2011-05-22T16:51:00.000+02:00

written by La Mamma Ansiosa

Today Mabel packed her suitcase -- a blue Ikea bag filled with her favorite things, food, and toiletries -- and has left to begin her week-long vacation with a family in Campi Bisenzio, a suburb of Florence, Italy. Her adopted Italian family for the week includes the two cutest 2 and 5 year olds, Niccolo and Sara, with gorgeous giant globes for eyes. It is like summer language camp. Mabel will have a week of immersion and return home with a much stronger understanding of the Italian language and culture. (I want to go to summer camp too.) The little girl arrived with a couple of her stuffed animals to take Mabel to her house. I do hope Sara will hold on tight to her toys because Mabel has a thing about hoarding other dogs' and children's toys. She places them under her neck and all around her body, and when the dog or child wants one of their toys back, Mabel just looks at them very smuggly as if to say "haahaa, you can't have it" while the other wimpers and cries afraid to reclaim the toy.

Mabel sprawled out on two of her beds on a hot day

I hope Mabel and her host family will enjoy many adventures and lots of fun together.

Mabel was unaware that she is going on vacation and that I will not join her. After the children were buckled into their car seats, Mabel climbed into the back of the SUV and settled in. We closed the door after many kisses. My heart broke as they all drove off. Mabel looked at me, her eyes fixed on me, not understanding why I was left behind. The look in her eyes was as though she thought that would be the last time she would ever see me.

I cried.

But meanwhile, there is the mommy, La Mamma Ansiosa. That would be me. I am in favor of Mabel going off and exploring new things, but she is still my baby.

A giant sea separates attachment and detachment. Letting go is very painful for those of us who suffer from our attachments. But in this case, I know we will soon see each other again in just under a week.

Non vedo l'ora. I can't wait / I look forward to it.

A Saturnia a Maremma in Toscana

2011-04-30T19:41:00.168+02:00

Throughout Italy are terme (thermal baths, hot springs). One such hot spot is a town called Saturnia, located in the Maremma part of Tuscany. Some of you know Saturnia is a zoological word that refers to a type of butterfly. Quite possibly a few of you assume it has to do with the planet Saturn. Must I admit which category of people I previously fell into? Well, here is a little lesson that even I needed to learn.

16th century Synagogue in Petigliano

Petigliano aka "Little Jerusalem"

The Romans stole, almost completely, their mythology from the predecessor Greek mythology. (Mostly it was only the names of the Greek gods the Romans changed; their attributes remained the same.) It is the Roman god, Saturn, from the Greek god, Kronos, that gives the name to the term, Saturnia. The mito (myth), as recounted on Wikipedia, is that Saturn was tired of the constant human wars and sent a thunderbolt to earth that created a spring of sulphurous water that would pacify mankind.

Saturnia from the road above and the gorgeous landscape of the region

Only a car makes it possible to reach many destinations in the interior -- despite Italy's fantastic train system.

Gorgeous, no?

arch of antiquity

Five girls rented a car and went on a road trip. Two of the five of us are extra furry and use four feet instead of only two.

Mabel chases Millie (aka "M&M") at our agriturismo

Cindy Lauper was right, "Girls just wanna have fun"

Our destination was an agriturismo in Saturnia. We were welcomed by Marta and Cristina (mother and daughter). Because we arrived early in the season, middle of April, we were the only guests. We were treated well, and I recommend you to stay at this conveniently located agriturismo (holiday farm), if you plan a trip to the region.

From these "pecorini" (sheep)...

...we get this,

wheels of famous pecorino di Pienza cheese. Yummy!

Each morning we followed the steam along the road to the therapeutic sulphur baths and immersed our tired and worn bodies into the cascading water. Afterwards, we returned to our agriturismo to wash away the stinky water and eat a bountiful breakfast. Cristina is most helpful and full of knowledge and information to make your stay even better.

Bathing beauties

Saturnia and the baths were our destination. Of course, there are many fancy and costly spas, but we opted for the free and natural spas. Along the journey and each day, we stopped in a few Etruscan and Medieval towns. I have wanted to go to many towns -- Montepulciano, Pienza, Saturnia -- for a long time. Other towns -- Sorano, Sovana, Petigliano, Proceno -- I was not aware even existed. We also spent a day in Argentario, an island connected with an isthmus or two or three (say that five times really fast without a lisp). We planned to take a 10 km panoramic drive and somehow ended up on the strada bianca (literally "white road," but in reality, a nice way of saying "you're lost." It is an unpaved road, full of holes, jagged rocks and boulders, on one side of the car is falling rock from the mountainside, and on the other side of the car is a cliff with no barricade to the sea very far below.)

Sovana ... or is it Sorano?

Sorano (above 3 fotos)

We survived. Of course, we returned to the baths at Saturnia to relax and laugh about the apparent wrong turn.

an Etruscan, I believe, stairway in Petigliano

There is always an adventure waiting to happen when traveling and exploring, especially when in the company of good friends.

Scoppio del Carro / Explosion of the Cart (Easter Sunday)

2011-04-25T14:24:00.003+02:00

I set out early Easter morning to enjoy the procession and the Explosion of the Cart to set free the Holy Sepulchre, a Florentine ceremony celebrated since the year 1099, the time of the First Crusade. Quite an experience! Rather than give a history lesson, you can read the history here and here. The Florentine word for carro (cart) is brindellone.

I arrived to where the cart is housed and watched from the beginning. Attached are several photos (click on slideshow) from the morning's celebration.

Buona Pasqua, tutti.

Giro in Bicicletta / Bike Ride

2011-04-23T18:23:00.005+02:00

I used to be pretty sportive, but life got busy. Always more work to be done, other responsibilities that require my attention. I got tired of working to pay the rent and having little energy and less money left over to do the things that really mattered to me. We do not realize how much we miss a certain something when we have not done that something for a long time. We wake up one day and wonder what the hell happened to our dreams.

That is what happened to me. And that has everything to do with what brought me to Italy, a grand dream of mine. I live a much less complicated lifestyle now, and lessons are regularly presented to me to learn how to live in a new, different, and more meaningful (to me) way. I never had dreams to become a professional cyclist, but I had, and still have, other dreams. It has been way too many years since this girl rode a bicycle, but I did these last couple days ... and it felt great.

My friend and I have talked for a good long while about doing some cycling together. She has a few days off from work for spring break, and so we ventured out on the bicycles. The first day we did a flat ride through the park to Signa. Yesterday we first cycled out of town to a bike store where a very cute guy helped fit and sell me a helmet. Buying a helmet was a smart investment since we decided to tackle the hill to Fiesole, which is about 300 meters (almost 1,000 feet) uphill from Florence -- straight uphill to Fiesole and then straight downhill to Florence. Surprisingly, I did well aerobically. It was my out-of-condition muscles that were screaming at me as we climbed that long hill. Technically, we went to Fiesole, but truth is we decided to end our climb in Maiano and eat a panino (sandwich) at Fattoria di Maiano, about a third of the distance shy of Fiesole proper, because the traffic became heavy and the road got steeper.

Today was to be the third day of our cycling trilogy -- cycle to Greve in Chianti, one of the closer Chianti towns to Florence -- but we decided to postpone since it was raining this morning and the streets were wet and slippery.

I smile contentedly as I follow my heart and do good things for myself. Perhaps a bit saddle sore, but that pain is temporary and more than offset by a wonderful friendship that continues to blossom into an even deeper friendship.

Sleeping and Sightseeing in Florence, Italy

2011-04-20T01:27:00.007+02:00

Most of us get only two or three weeks' vacation a year, which makes travel to far distances a challenge of time and planning. And, of course, once we get to where we are going, there is much to see and experience. Especially in Europe because it is my home now. The natural temptation is to take in as much as possible in as brief a time as possible, but who is a fan of whirlwind travel? Certainly not me.

My first trip to Italy was 30 days long. I began my Italian adventure in Verona and ended in Rome. For any vacation, 30 days is not exactly a whirlwind trip, but staying only a night or two in a town does not allow you to get too familiar with a particular place. Sure, I saw the highlights, and I experienced several regions of the country, but I have learned through experience that if I do not spend at least one night in a place, I will quickly forget that town because it didn't have an opportunity to penetrate my soul.

Now, before I venture out, I study a map and tour book and then place them in my purse or day pack in case they become necessary to refer to. Maybe I have a museum, castle, or cathedral destination in mind, but I allow my feet and my heart to lead my way, possibly wandering down this street or alley and not ending up at the originally intended destination until much later, if at all. Should a tour book indicate one day is all that is necessary in a town to see its highlights, I will choose to stay overnight and spend the next day in the town, which allows me to see the attractions and also have time to take it all in by sitting in a cafe, piazza, or park bench, meeting and speaking with the locals and absorbing the ambiance of that location. Creating and taking advantage of the opportunity to get to know the local people, to live and share in the life of the locals is my primary definition of traveler. Each holiday, each experience adds to my rich reservoir of easily recalled travel memories.

The first three times I traveled to Italy, I stayed in B&Bs or small, family-owned and -run hotels. No chain hotels for this girl! Because I fell in love with and kept returning to Italy, I decided to rent apartments if my plan included a stay in a town longer than a few days. Having an apartment offers the feeling that I live in a place for that moment in time. It also is a more economical way to travel. Each holiday, each experience, adds to my rich reservoir of easily recalled travel memories. And never forget that longer stays lessens the frequency of the least desirable part of traveling: continually packing and unpacking and schlepping around a suitcase.

A terrace

The holiday season is over. Winter is complete. Spring is almost halfway over. Summer will be here sooner almost than the blink of an eye. Now is the time people plan for their vacations abroad for the prime summer travel season. How about you? Do you consider a visit to Florence, Italy? You could rely on guidebooks and the Internet. They are excellent resources, but they all say the same thing. In Firenze (Florence), you must see the Duomo, the David, Ponte Vecchio, the Uffizi, eat Bistecca Fiorentina and gelato. But if you prefer to see and experience the real Firenze, the locals' Firenze, then you must add some lesser known places. Or so I believe. See the artists at work in their studios, have an aperitivo on a rooftop terrace overlooking the city, see some equally important artwork yet less well-known, experience a calcio (soccer) game, visit places off the beaten path. I am no travel expert, but my knowledge and experience of Firenze is of the type that can help you plan your itinerary, logistics, or practicalities. My travel experience and knowledge, especially of my adopted hometown, Firenze, is something I love to share.

For example, does the notion of staying in an apartment instead of a hotel appeal to you? I can refer you to a friend of mine, from whom I have rented seven different apartments in Florence. He has many more from which to choose in Centro Storico (historical center).

A kitchen

Also available to rent is my beautiful apartment, steps from the Ponte Vecchio (Old Bridge) in Oltrarno (other side of the Arno River) and still in the heart of town. Some readers might think it odd that I rent space to travelers, but I love the opportunity to meet new people and help guide them with their itineraries. Contact me via email (link below) to discuss the particulars of sharing my apartment at a favorable rate.

Living area and stairs to the loft of my apartment

No matter your final travel plans, please be sure to contact me if your travel will bring you to Florence. It is always nice to have a new friend in the city.

I Came, I Saw, I Conquered

2011-04-02T03:25:00.092+02:00

Currently in Los Angeles with many important things to do, today I accomplished an important task of another type: outlet mall shopping. Many of my friends know I have been fiending for the outlet mall, one of a few places I miss in Italy. I am not the average petite Italian size, which makes clothes shopping in Italy a bit of a challenge for me. I was in need of some new clothes.

Jennifer, my oldest girlfriend in the world -- we have been friends since we both were 5, and we have been through a lot together -- and I went to the outlet mall together. We had a blast shopping, reminiscing, sharing stories of what we have been through and what we go through separately and together, helping each other make decisions with blatant honesty as to which clothing fits well and which makes our butts look too big. It is such a joy to spend an entire day with someone so close and who knows the other person so well. Not only was it fun for the two of us, we also definitely brightened the day for many salesclerks, who became a large part of our fun and who had fun along with us two crazy girls.

Look how cute we are in the dressing room in matching sailor outfits. Yes, we each bought our Bobbsey Twin outfits ... only to be worn in two different countries.

With our playful personalities and charm, we were fortunate to have salesclerks who were delighted to play along with us, with all our bantering and teasing. The salesclerks parked themselves in the Esprit store fitting room with us encouraging and enticing more of our goofy fun.

Following his brief war with Pharnaces II of Pontus in 47 BC, Julius Caesar claimed, "Veni, Vidi, Vici." Today, April 1, I came, I saw, I conquered. Caesar's war, whatever. My conquering was a blast!

--Josslyn, Camarillo Outlet Mall, California, USA

April Fool's Day

2011-04-01T07:25:00.001+02:00

April Fool's is a day celebrated around the world with practical jokes played on one another. In Italy, the day is known as Il Pesce d'aprile (the April's Fish). I wish you all a fun and delightful day.

Since I have yet to experience the day in Italy and am currently in the States, I am counting on you, my friends, to report to me what the day is like. What jokes and pranks will be played on you, and which ones will you play on others?

-- Josslyn, Los Angeles, California, USA

Leaving Italy

2011-03-27T13:30:00.004+02:00

Which verb tense do you use when you are suspended in time? I think in "Leaving Italy" time, but that was 3 1/2 days ago. On the plane I caught a cold, which leaves me listless and fuori la testa (outside the head). It feels as though time stands still, but I know better. Time does not wait for me to catch up. So even now, I am in the past tense, or so it seems.

Boarding the flight

Here I am back in Los Angeles, an unexpected, unplanned, but necessary trip.

The wonderful 101 Freeway

I try to come to terms with who I am today. In my adult life I have been a responsible, productive, type-A personality, a small business owner who works hard. I had control and strove to make a name for myself in my career, which I accomplished successfully.

Nearly two and a half years ago, I had an injury to my back that changed my life. No longer was I able to work the way I used to. In addition to my injury, there was the economic crisis. My career changed drastically as a result of the two. It was then that I decided the time was right to make real my dream to live in Italy. With my personality type, comes the gotta-have-it-all-figured-out-in-advance mentality. I went against my usual grain in late '09 when I packed up and relocated to Italy. I didn't have all the answers. What I did have was an unwavering faith that, come what may, I would be okay, everything would work itself out, and with a little time, improved Italian language skills, and more contacts, doors would open wide and opportunities would present themselves. I still have the faith, though, quite honestly, not always unwavering.

Being an expat has its own set of challenges to overcome. It is no easy path. In fact, only a small percentage of people who relocate make it beyond the first year. Studies indicate that something like 5% of the expat population last five years in their new home land and actually assimilate, which means they learn to speak the native language and live like a local instead of in the safe confines of an expat community.

I have made it beyond the first year, and it is important now to assimilate and speak the language and live like a local, if I want to stay beyond the typical five years or fewer. I try to assimilate and plan to last far more than five years, but...

We often hear of la dolce vita (the sweet life). La dolce vita, though, is a bit of a myth. It is not to say that some don't experience it, but for the most part, it is not a reality for the average Italian nor the average expat. In fact, la dolce vita is more typically for the well-to-do pensioners who can afford extended vacations. Especially in today's economic climate, when the dollar is $1.42 to the euro, it is a struggle for most expats, especially American expats, to make ends meet.

I find that I, a once driven, type-A gal, now lack motivation. I care less about the things that used to matter. Now I struggle with questions such as: Did I do the right thing? Have I thrown away my life and the things I worked so hard to achieve? Will I ever be able to overcome the obstacles and challenges I face in Italy? Do I dig my own grave just so I can live in Italy? Am I truly an expat, or am I becoming a nomad? (That is, no fixed home, caught in a purgatory of not completely assimilating in Italy and keeping a grubstake in the U.S.)?

During this unplanned visit in Los Angeles, one task is to close up my existing office. I had previously downsized and effectively closed shop. But I left a physical presence "just in case." I get emotional comfort in having my desk set up that has my personality all over it. My desk is glass, which I turned into a vision board. It is one thing to pack up boxes of books and file folders. But what do I do with the mementos that surround my desk? They say much about who I am and what I worked for. How do I box up or file away those miscellaneous pieces of paper and trinkets? I have an Italian phrase sandwiched between the two pieces of glass of my desk that says, "Mi piacerebbe lavorare e vivere a Firenze," (I would like to work and live in Florence). Now done; check. But can I stay?

Also, while in Los Angeles, I will finally free myself of my car and some other personal belongings. This is all rather scary to me. The more belongings I slough off in America, the less I straddle the two countries and the more permanent I make myself in Italy. That spells F-E-A-R in capital letters. Yes, I do want this. But it is not that simple. (I cannot be entirely forthcoming on this public blog.) So the questions keep coming at me like tsunami waves.

The car gets towed for maintenance

I struggle with living in the moment, enjoying what I have today, for fear of what could happen tomorrow, next week, next year. I know it is against the principles we are taught, but I also believe it would be irresponsible of me not to give thought to those very real issues that could happen to any of us, but especially to me, as I straddle two homes, two cultures. It is not that I want to manifest these negative situations into happening, but I also know it would be denial on my part to ignore their possible reality. Heavy thoughts weigh on my mind. The questions I ask myself cause discomfort. I am determined to live a simpler and more basic life in Italy. Some days I do.

I love the home I have made, and make, for myself in Italy. I strive to create my own form of la dolce vita, and I succeed (to a greater or lesser extent). I will not give this up, no matter the difficulties that face me or my own thoughts that sometimes punish me. These past few days in Los Angeles tell me that Florence is my home, my destiny. That said, I also recognize that, when I return to Florence, I must spend more time indoors working. But when I choose to go outside, life awaits. I live in a place full of history, and I do not take it for granted. I try to be mindful of the beauty that surrounds me and to notice something new each day and definitely not to allow it to become ordinary.

An extraordinary life in an extraordinary home. That is the theme of this blog and also my mission in life ... one step at a time.

--Josslyn, Los Angeles, California, USA

Unità d'Italia / Unification Day

2011-03-17T17:50:00.004+01:00

Most people know today is St. Patrick's Day. Some will eat corned beef and cabbage; others, drink green beer and play darts; and even others, look for an opportunity to pinch someone not wearing green. But do you know that today is yet another holiday in Italy?

That's right. Today in Italy is Unification Day, the 150th anniversary of the day Italy became a unified nation, Italy's birthday. Many people have the day off. Italians love an excuse to celebrate, and the festivities actually began last night with another holiday in preparation for today, "Tricolore Notte" (three-colored night).

Don't feel bad if you didn't know today is Unification Day. I didn't know last night was Tricolore Notte until it was happening, and I was already in for the night. Not for long, though, as I got up and joined the sea of people. Live music was played in various piazze (squares). The queues to get into the museums that stayed open and gratis until 1:00 a.m. were long. A giant mongolfiera (hot-air balloon) came to rest in Piazza Santa Croce. Fuochi d'artificio (fireworks) went off at mezzanotte (midnight) from atop Palazzo Vecchio.

No photos of my own to share with you in this post, but you can look here as well as here.

Life in Florence, Italy, is an endless festival, a carnival of happiness.

Ortobello Farmers Market and Fuori di Taste

2011-03-14T02:25:00.001+01:00

We went to the farmer's market that is part of a weekend event in Florence known as Fuori di Taste.

In the rain and with my arms full of farm fresh milk and vegetables, I captured a few photographs of the food I love to eat, in season and locally grown.

La Festa delle Donne / Women's Day

2011-03-13T14:00:00.001+01:00

Since my fascination for Italy began, I have heard about a day in Italy when women are celebrated. I have been told the men give flowers to the women in their lives -- not only their wives, mothers, daughters, and lovers but also to their bankers, bariste (barmaids), bosses, shopkeepers, and even to women passing on the street in appreciation for all we represent, sometimes even laying a mimosa branch at her feet.

My thought was Wow! Italian men are known for their passion for women, and I couldn't wait to experience such an expression of exuberance.

The day is March 8, just passed. I did receive a number of buona festa greetings and kisses. No mimosa (sold at 8 Euro a branch) laid at my feet nor in my hand.

The day of celebration actually began in America back in 1908 when some textile workers protested against their unfair treatment and went on strike. The bosses locked the gates and trapped the women in the building. A few days later, the building was lit on fire, and 129 workers died. As women began demanding rights, politically and socially, the day caught on globally and has been known as International Women's Day.

Over the years much of the historical flavor has been forgotten, and though the day is still celebrated in much of the world, there is the tendency for it to be more commercial, like a Valentine's Day for women.

In Florence, the state museums offered free entrance to women. A friend and I toured the Medici Chapel. At the canoe club, women-only teams were on the Arno in a dragon canoe.

Three male friends of varying ages told me this is the day to celebrate women, but that tonight all the men stay home with the telecomando (remote control) in hand while the women are out at the pizzeria with their women friends.

Thank you to the women before me that fought, suffered, and died fighting for fairness, equality, and women's rights, paving the way for a much better life for all of us women today.

A Day for Baking

2011-02-27T20:03:00.000+01:00

What does a person do when a friend is a long way from home (Australia) and yearns for a proper kitchen and her passion for baking? A good friend offers said friend the use of her kitchen, that's what.

Ellen preparing pancakes

Australian-style pancake

My passion for good, home-cooked food naturally compelled me to help my friend Ellen with her overwhelming need and desire to bake to her heart's content. It was mid morning, and Australian-style pancakes were necessary to get Ellen prepared for baking. Australian pancakes are thin, light, fluffy pancakes, almost like a crepe, with brown sugar sprinkled on top and the squeeze of fresh lemon, then rolled up. They taste even better when eaten with your hands.

Aussie Ellen preparing batter with English Sally

American Blogger assisting the baker

See, I can do more in the kitchen than just quality control.

Flourless chocolate cake comes out of the oven

Torture waiting for it to cool

Canadian Sandra leaves Italy tomorrow and will soon return to her home base in Portland, Oregon. We wanted to say goodbye one more time. Being a rainy day, it made sense to invite the girls to my apartment for a bake-fest. We allowed Ellen to do her thing in the kitchen. We enjoyed good conversation, sharing life, love, and travel adventures over coffee and Ellen's delicious homemade flourless chocolate cake. My apartment smelled like heaven.

Sally gives her seal of approval

Sandra and Sally chatting

Sandra also approves of the cake

The baker herself takes delight in the taste of her cake

It was easy to convince Ellen to leave her mixer in my kitchen as collateral so I could be certain she would soon return for her next baking project. Always happy, I am, to help out a friend in need.

Golosa per il Gelato

2011-02-20T12:01:00.007+01:00

It is no surprise that I am golosa (gluttonous: to have a sweet tooth) for gelato considering the word "gelato" is mentioned several times on my blog. In fact, we could say I am a gelatoholic.

Recently, a new gelateria, Cantina del Gelato, opened up around the corner from my home, which is rather dangerous for me. I watched with curiosity as they reconstructed an old wine cantina, wondering what they would be opening in the upcoming weeks. The vaulted ceiling is a reminder of the cantina that once stood there. The small, blue window next to the door is where one used to pick up wine after hours, which reminds me of the days when, once upon a time, we had fresh milk home-delivered in the States. That was when you could still buy fresh milk.

Street view

Florence is filled with gelaterias, but few are truly good artigianale (homemade, artisan, craft) gelaterias. Most serve gelato that has been mass produced with plenty of additives and preservatives. Cantina del Gelato serves a few of the best flavors of gelato each day -- mascarpone and nutella, pistacchio, caprino and noci, limone, biscotti, to name a few -- not 31 or more flavors. They cater to quality and taste as opposed to quantity of flavors.

What truly sets this gelateria apart from the rest of the gelaterias? They found their niche with something you won't find elsewhere in Florence. Fruit from the Amazon rainforest in Brazil.

Cantina del Gelato offers Succhi Tropicale (tropical fruit juices). The fruit is picked in Brazil when ripe as opposed to prematurely like we are accustomed to; immediately juiced from the pulp; without preservatives added, they are then frozen; and then imported to Florence, Italy. Choose from fruit such as maracuja (passion fruit), goiaba (guava), caju fruit (the fruit of the cashew tree. Did you know that each fruit bears only one cashew, and the cashew is actually the flower of the fruit? The fruit itself has considerably more healthful than is the nut.), mango, banana, lime, acerola (the queen of vitamin C), and the number one "superfood," acai berry. These fruits are rich in antioxidants, anti-aging benefits, omega-fats, anticancer benefits, fights against heart disease, lowers blood pressure, low in calories, high in fiber, helps one lose weight, and packed full of a large variety of vitamins and minerals.

Best of all: Ask for a "Lo Frullo Acai." Served in a bowl; eaten with a spoon.

All that Cantina del Gelato serves is made with the finest, natural, top quality products, with no preservatives, and is made fresh daily.

A few of the many reasons why fruit from the rainforest is important in addition to what I've mentioned above: Seventy percent of the 3,000 plants that the U.S. National Cancer Institute has found to have anticancer properties are found only in the rainforest. There is an estimated 3,000 edible fruits found in the rainforest, but only 200 are cultivated for use around the world. At least 80% of our developed world's diet originated in the tropical rainforest.

As I move in the direction of what really matters to me on my journey living in Italy, I try to make healthful choices. In other words, because all they offer tastes so good and is full of healthy reasons to eat it, I can righteously justify going daily to my neighborhood gelateria. Right?

Samio (left) and Giuseppe (right), gelateria partners

Whether you're an athlete, foodie, have a sweet tooth, are hot and need something cold to put in your mouth, care about your nutrients, when you're in Florence or if you live in Florence, make a point of visiting Cantina del Gelato, and tell them Josslyn sent you. The winter hours are from 12:00 until 11:00 in the evening daily, closed Mondays. Soon they will extend the hours and days for the spring and summer. Giuseppe and Samio are friendly and will treat you right.

You can find them in Oltrarno, 200 meters from Ponte Vecchio at Via de' Bardi, 31, Florence, 50125, Italy.

JUNE 2, 2011 UPDATE:

The summer hours are now in operation, which means Cantina del Gelato is now open seven days a week until midnight! New flavors are in the house too. My new favorite: menta bianca (white mint). The flavor is incredibly refreshing on a hot day and tastes so clean being made from pure mint.

Casalinga Lunch in Cortona, Italy

2011-02-13T20:17:00.002+01:00

Cortona is a charming Etruscan and Medieval walled hilltop town that is easy to reach via the Italian train line between Rome and Florence. One hour and 23 minutes on the train from Florence, exit at Camucia, and take the 15-minute bus ride up to Cortona.

Piazza Garibaldi e chiesa

Walled city and view

Of all the times I have been to Cortona, my most recent trip was the first time I visited Cortona when it was not crowded with tourists.

Locals in the Piazza

Wear comfortable shoes since many streets are very steep, and you have the opportunity to walk several paths, either along the wall or out in the country.

Typical Cortona streets

This particular day, though not a clear day for gorgeous views and photographs full of vibrant color, was still quite wintery, and I enjoyed breathing in the clean air from the hillside and the smell of wood-burning fireplaces. Early in the day, we found a good local restaurant that we would return to for lunch.

Trattoria Tacconi Agniolo and a local woman

We asked Graziella, the owner and cook of our "Cortonese typical food" restaurant, to save us a table at one o'clock. It was necessary to do if we truly wanted to eat there since the restaurant has only five tables.

Graziella showing the fegato (liver)

We then resumed our exploration and chose to climb uphill so we would work up an appetite for all the delicious homemade food we would eat a couple hours later.

Fresco

Cortona views and streets

The restaurant is Trattoria Tacconi Angiolo (Via Dardano, 46, Cortona; phone: 0575.603588). Deciding what to order wasn't easy. Most of the dishes offered this day are dishes I enjoy. Each region in Italy has its specialties. This restaurant identifies its food as Cortonese style, but perhaps I am not yet experienced enough to tell the difference from Cortonese, Fiorentina, and Toscana food because all the dishes she was preparing were the same specialties in Florence. Graziella showed me the kitchen -- it was like being in their home -- and what she was preparing.

Baccalá (salted cod in tomato sauce)
Fagioli (cannellini beans) on the back burner

The restaurant is called a trattoria (small restaurant), but it is really more like a casalinga (housewife, and also refers to a restaurant that serves homemade food and is very simple.) It is like going home to eat at mom or grandma's house. The atmosphere is no atmosphere. That is how simple it is. But the food is always delicious. Tacconi is open only for lunch. Graziella does all the cooking, and her husband, Angiolo, serves your food.

Graziella e Angiolo nella cucina

We took Angiolo up on his offer to order a half order of primi piatti (first plates) (3,50 euro) because we did not want to fill up before our second plates arrived. Oh, and the pasta comes from just across the street at the fresh pasta store.

Fresh Pasta

I ordered pici (a long, hollow pasta) with fresh tomato sauce for my primo piatto and Arista di Maiale, which is a Cortonese and Florentine specialty of pork, and fresh spinach for my second.

Arista di Maiale

After lunch and stuffed to the gills, we walked along the wall and in the country for a good two hours to work off just how full we had become...well, that and also because we spotted a bakery we knew we would want to sample later in the afternoon.

View

Il Bramasole, Frances Mayes's house (Under the Tuscan Sun)

When you are ready to leave Cortona, I recommend you ask the bus driver his destination. There are two buses that leave the same piazza at the same time. Since only one bus was there, it did not occur to me to ask. We were engaged in conversation when all of a sudden I realized we had been on the bus too long and the road was unfamiliar. I inquired of the bus driver where we were and where we were going. Of course, everyone in the front of the bus got involved in the discussion between the bus driver and me. Sure enough, we were on the wrong bus. Luckily, we were heading in the right direction to return to Florence, and he let us off near another train station. If it weren't for the fact that our train was five minutes in ritardo (late), we would have missed our train to Florence.

Oops! Stazione Castiglion Fiorentino

Cortona has so much to offer, to see, and to do, yet I only touched on one of my favorite topics, food: where to eat with the locals and off the usual tourist map. We were the only non-Italians in the restaurant, and we enjoyed our food, the interaction with the locals, and our day overall.
-- Josslyn
Cortona, Italy

Italian Train Travel with Your Dog

2011-02-08T17:53:00.001+01:00

What if you show up at the train station as you have always done, allowing just enough time to buy train tickets for you and your dog from the self-service machine, validate, and board the train for your destination? Today, if you are not prepared, you will be in for a surprise. My recent personal experience can save us all some grief.

Be aware: There is a new law effective January 2011 regarding your pet traveling on the Italian trains. It isn't as simple as it once was. Tickets for your piccolo animale (small animal) are no longer available at the self-service machine. Now you must stand in line at the train station to buy your ticket or purchase your ticket from a travel agency. Why? Because the new law requires when you purchase your ticket that you show your dog registration certificate. What is a "dog registration certificate"? If you have residency or are a citizen of Italy, then the document you need is called "Certificato Iscrizione Anagrafe Canina." If you are a foreigner traveling from outside of Italy, your dog needs to have a dog passport. If you have one of these two documents, you will be able to take your dog along with you on your adventure. But you must remember to carry this document with you when you travel because, if you are asked to produce said document by the train conductor and you don't have it during travel, you will be in for an even ruder surprise. You will be fined, and you will have to get off the train at the next stop. Ouch! You are now informed, and hopefully this will not impact your travel plans.

Catch-22?
One. Mabel has her paperwork. Before traveling from the U.S. into the E.U., there is an extensive, bureaucratic process to go through before boarding the plane. The U.S. authorities told me with the documents that were issued to Mabel, she essentially has her E.U. passport and will be given one in Europe. In Italy, the authorities have told me that the U.S. is the governing body that issues the E.U. passport for animals. Does the right hand know what the left hand is doing?

Two. If you yourself do not have residency, a permesso di soggiorno (permission to stay), or whatever documento (document) allows you to stay beyond the 90-day touristic period, you will not be permitted to register your beloved animal even though your animal has the required paperwork. Mamma mia!

A bit of general information regarding train travel with your dog
Let us assume you have either form of the dog registration certificate and are ready to travel.

Be sure to carry it with you at all times
Keep your dog on leash and carry your dog's muzzle. The law says the dog must wear the muzzle, but I have seen it enforced one time only. Be prepared by having it available should it become necessary
A small cat, dog, or other animal in a cage no larger than 70x30x50 cm travels free
Espressi (Express), IC, ICN, and Regional trains: a dog of any size with leash and muzzle may travel except between the hours of 7:00 and 9:00 a.m.
Ticket for your dog is in second class and 50% of the adult ticket price
EuroStar and AV fast trains: animal transport is not allowed without special cage container

For additional and more specific information, go to the website of Trenitalia directly.

Chocolate Festival, Florence, Italy

2011-02-05T19:47:00.002+01:00

Are you feeling sad and blue? Too many dark, dreary days of winter getting you down? I have good news if you want to positively raise your seratonin level and enjoy an anti-depressant ... without taking a pill.

Start your day with a banana in the morning. Put on your sneakers and walk or jog over to Piazza Santa Croce in Florence, Italy, in the sunshine and warmer days that we are finally experiencing (a sure sign of spring's approach). You'll get a bit of exercise. Go any time between 10 a.m. and 10 p.m. And then load up on your dose of chocolate in whichever form you prefer. Chocolate-covered coffee beans, chocolate salami, cremino (chocolate cream, essentially the Italian equivalent of fudge), chocolate kebab are some of my personal favorites. But there are many more choices. The chocolate vendors are representing most regions of Italy with their local specialties in chocolate.

And while you are at it, you can buy your honey a chocolate treat for St. Valentine's Day.

I promise you the samples are certain to cause you to wear a smile. The chocolate festival began only yesterday, and I have already stopped by three times, and more than likely I will go get my chocolate fix every day until the festival closes on Sunday, February 13.

Buona Domenica / Good Sunday

2011-01-30T19:36:00.001+01:00

Good Sunday is a greeting said to one another in Italy. Often it is said at the end of a workweek to someone you will unlikely see again until after the weekend has passed. Sunday is the only day of the week addressed in this manner.

Buona domenica. (Days of the week and months in Italian are lower case.) Today, this particular Sunday, is perfect in my little world, a day overflowing with simple pleasures and gratitude. A light rain began late last night and has yet to cease. I am not complaining because I love the rain, and I know before long the heat and humidity will arrive and most likely, too, my lamenting at how I feel like a wilted flower.

Mabel, freshly bathed and with fur fluffier and softer than silk or satin, and I went out this morning for a long walk along the Lungarno. We visited with some of our usual morning contacts. Later I had a few conversations about our plans for the upcoming week. I enjoyed a gentle restorative yoga practice. A bit of homework as well as a bit of work for pay were done in the morning hours. My home is clean and orderly.

Like every other day, I have my list of "Things To Do." I have more work to do, but it is a manageable amount. Many days I am easily distracted and boondoggle the day away in spite of my intentions. And when a day like today comes along where everything is perfectly aligned and I can do whatever I choose without obligations and deadlines looming over my head, often I am too tired, the choices too many, and I become paralyzed, in a sense, as to what is it I really want to do with this "free day" because it is only one day, and there are so many things I could do ... and what happens? I end up doing something unplanned, not even desirable, and fritter away the time. In Los Angeles, I cried for days like today. My life was stressful in corporate America. Even in Italy it can be a struggle to have a day like today.

Not today! I am enjoying a well-balanced, quiet, soul-nurturing day in my home. Sweet Mabel is nearby. She keeps her eyes on me at all times. She makes no demands; she just lets me know she needs and loves me. Loving her is the easiest thing in the world. I feel comfy and cozy inside and out. Comfortable clothes wrap my body. Recently, I have experienced some small mental/emotional/perhaps even spiritual shifts and feel great. Various things need my attention, but there are no major projects that need to be accomplished today. I took a break from my work to come downstairs and read about women that are creative and the space in which they create. Inspirational, instrumental music plays in the background. Periodically, I look up from what I am doing, make eye contact with Mabel, and watch the rain.

Creating a great day, for me, begins with adequate and restful sleep. Since I was a child, I found it difficult to end my days, and the morning is my favorite time of day. Needless to say, I rarely get enough sleep. Last night I had a solid six and a half hours of sleep and woke up feeling like a new person.

Today I am enjoying each and every minute, consciously making the choice of what I want to be doing, free of guilt and anxiety. I feel love and loved and completely at peace and at ease in my own skin. There is no where else I would rather be and no one else I would rather be with in this moment. Today is perfect just the way it is.

My personal experience of this particular Sunday may not sound like much to get excited about, and it may even sound as if I am having a lazy day. But for me, this is what life is about, the simple pleasures, gratitude, love, self-acceptance, conscious choices. Instead of "doing," today is about just simply "being."

To you, I bid a "Buona domenica!"

Wild Goose Chase

2011-01-15T23:56:00.008+01:00

I showed up at the agreed-upon place and time to go enjoy a pizza with a small group of people ... and ended up going out with just one of the group, my friend "G'io."

G'io is a Florentine who insists there is no good food to be found within the city. I am no food snob, but I do agree few great restaurants reside within the city walls largely because the majority of the restaurants cater to tourists and, as such, is not especially great food. When I used to vacation here, people would tell me "You can't eat poorly in Italy," but that is so not true. That said, I do have a number of places within the walls that I love and frequent.

The night before G'io wanted to take me to dinner, which involved either driving or taking a taxi, where we could eat "well," but I had my reasons for not being adventurous and didn't go. Last night he conceded to my wishes to stay within the city walls and to go somewhere we could walk to -- well, that is, initially, he conceded. We walked to Piazza Santo Spirito and settled in at Ricchi, a decent restaurant. He wanted to have fish.

Nota Bene: Understand that Florence is landlocked and as a result is a meat-eating city. Even though the sea is only an hour away, fresh fish is brought to the markets on Fridays and available to all. Friday is the day of the week in Florence to indulge in fresh fish, whether in restaurants or at home. Otherwise, if you want fresh fish, chances are it will be frozen, even though it may have been frozen as recently as the day prior. Oh, you can get fresh fish here other days of the week in certain restaurants, but you will pay heavily for that day's catch.

Back to Ricchi. We ordered a bottle of fizzy water. The waiter came to take our order even though we had not yet opened the menu. "What good fish is on the menu today?" my friend G'io asked. The waiter began to explain. To each item the waiter said, my friend had questions and comments and poo-poo'd several of the waiter's descriptions. G'io ordered what he wanted, exactly how we wanted each dish prepared for both of us, and none of it was from the menu. I felt like I had just been dropped into a scene from the film When Harry Met Sally and G'io was Sally. Remember, I am in Italy, where the custom is that there are no menu substitutions. It was comical. A little discussion pursued regarding just how fresh the fish was. The waiter ran off to consult with the chef and promptly returned. Next thing I knew, G'io asked to pay for our bottle of water, which the waiter refused to allow him to pay, and to call a taxi for us, and we were out the door and on the street awaiting our taxi's arrival.

We took a 10 Euro taxi ride to just barely outside one of the city doors to Trattoria Vittoria. We could have walked there in under 15 minutes. I enter to see a large aquarium that I don't think is intended to be decorative followed by a very long display of fish and seafood of many varieties, big and small. It is obvious everyone knows G'io. He is greeted with handshakes, hugs, and kisses, and lots of "Mi dispiace," (I am sorry). At this point it is still early for dinner in Italy, but the restaurant is full. G'io frequents this place regularly and dumps a lot of Euro here. There were two very large parties that filled the restuarant, and G'io felt the restaurant made a grave error by not squeezing a small table for two in a corner somewhere for us to sit. (It was Friday night. We didn't call in advance, rather just showed up.)

Back out on the street. We discuss where to go next... He calls for another taxi. Having selected our next stop, I convince him we can walk to the next viale (boulevard, avenue) and at the same time work up an appetite. I tried to convince him, unsuccessfully, to start a charity fund in my honor after seeing how much he is willing to spend, frivolously, on taxis.

We arrive to Fuor d'acqua, and it is packed liked sardines. Again, he is greeted in the same manner, i.e., handshakes, hugs, kisses, and "I'm sorry." Again, no place for us.

Out on the street again and still outside the city walls, we walk next door to Via Vai, chic and also packed. The usual greetings again. I watch the maître d' shake his head "no" as he studies the 14x18 piece of paper full of reservations. Eventually, he finds a table for us. We're hungry, it is no longer too early for dinner in Italy, and we are finally sitting down. Again, G'io goes through the exercise of drilling the waitress about what good food is on the menu tonight, and then he proceeds to order for both of us what he wants, the way he wants, not according to the menu.

Dinner was excellent. We began with an appetizer of burrata. (Burrata is a fresh Italian cheese, made from bufala mozzarella and cream. The outer shell is solid mozzarella while the inside contains both mozzarella and cream, giving it an unusual, soft texture. It is usually served fresh, at room temperature. The name "burrata" means "buttered." It is served with lightly fried mozzarella and small mozzarella balls and prosciutto.) Our primo piatto (first plate) is fresh, homemade spaghetti with porcini mushroom sauce served wrapped in foil. Our second dish consists of a gorgeous fresh vegetable salad, and the most delicious, perfectly grilled Chianina filet mignon I have ever tasted with mashed potatoes. I still had food in my mouth when suddenly he was ready to go, and we abruptly left. It happened so fast that once we were on the street, I couldn't help but think I left something behind in the restaurant. My experience of eating dinner out in Italy is you "buy" your table for the evening and you leisurely enjoy one course after the other over several hours' time.

We walked back into town and back to Santo Spirito where we sat outdoors and took coffee and continued our conversation.

Oh, I am not complaining. It was a dramatic, exciting, and fun evening, full of great conversation. Started out with the intention of having a pizza, which turned into a mission for fresh fish, and ended up eating the best filet. I learned about a few restaurants (all in one night) that I hadn't previously known about that are off the tourist maps and places I would love to return and actually eat at. I ate well. For a simple girl from Southern California, the entire evening was entertaining.

After many hours of speaking and listening intently and intensely only in Italian with a person that has a thick Florentine dialect, speaks quickly and not often clearly, doesn't cater to my language inadequacies, I came home exhausted but with several new words and phrases added to my Italian lexicon, a belly full of excellent and yummy food, and a deeper friendship.

Self-portraits

2011-01-11T07:30:00.002+01:00

Autoritratto translates to self-portrait. Through January 30, 2011, a rare and interesting art exhibition is going on at the Galleria degli Uffizzi, Sala delle Reali Poste, in Florence, Italy, called "Autoritratte: Artiste di Capriccioso e Destrissimo Ingeno," (Women Artists of Wit and Great Ingenuity). It is a collection of sixty women artists' self-portraits ranging from the 16th century to present day. The Uffizi Gallery has a collection of 1,700 self-portraits. Only 100 are by women artists. Entrance is gratis.

Will you see the exhibit?

Groceries

2011-01-08T16:21:00.003+01:00

I never would have thought it, but I miss many items that I enjoyed while living in the States. I especially miss the many items available from Trader Joe's and Whole Foods. You know, the items we all use day to day and never give a second thought to. Many other items as well.

I took a field trip to a store I have known about for a long while now but had previously not made the time to explore. Natura Sì, Italy's answer to Whole Foods, is a short bus ride outside Florence's city walls. Natura Sì offers many products difficult to find elsewhere in Italy, and I was on a mission to find as many of them as I could. I scoured every aisle of the store two or three times looking for many beloved products. Unfortunately, I did not find the majority of what I sought. Perhaps now you can understand why I beg you to bring certain products when you vacation in Italy, and I will continue to beg. Some good news from my trip to Natura Sì, though: I returned home with a few new products, miso* and tahini included.

*Miso, a combination of fermented soybean paste and barley, is considered a brain food. In Japanese the word miso means brain. It is a live, fermented food -- think prana. Miso has so many health benefits and could not be any easier to prepare. Commonly recognized as brain food because its combination of protein and vitamin B encourages brain metabolism, making the wheels turn faster.

With tahini now in my home, dried, organic ceci (garbanzo or chickpeas) are soaking so that I can finally indulge in some homemade, roasted garlic hummus. Cannot wait.

How about you? What items do you miss when you travel?

Cucina Italiana

2011-01-04T23:00:00.014+01:00

What is it about Italian cooking that is so great? Perhaps the purity of its content. Perhaps the fresh, locally grown ingredients. Perhaps the deliciousness of the meal. Or perhaps the simplicity of its recipes and the letting go of the need to be perfect (a pinch of this, a handful of that).

I grew up eating out. Home-cooked meals on a regular basis were not a part of my background. Cooking and baking have never been one of my hobbies. But guess what? I am starting to get into it. Eating out is expensive (I am on a budget), and home-cooked meals allows me more control over what goes into my body. I now enjoy experimenting with many different dishes. Some I love and make a part of my regular diet; others I try, don't love, and move on.

Tonight's dinner is chicken, kale, and chickpea stew. Note the deep, rich colors, which are the sign of a healthful food and the staples of Italian cuisine. It tastes as good as it looks. C'mon over. Let's enjoy it together.

What are your favorite recipes...?

Buon Anno 2011

2011-01-01T12:16:00.033+01:00

Out with the Old

31 Dec '10

Duomo, Florence, Italy

A view I like

In with the New

New Year's Day 1.1.11

Ponte Vecchio, Florence, Italy

A new day, a new month, a new year, another new beginning. Always a good time for reflecting on the past and setting intentions and mapping our course for who we want to become and where we want to go.

I will say no more because I have work to do in creating my way.

Nina Simone's Feeling Good

What are your intentions for the year ahead?

Buon Anno!

Abbicci and the Art of the Italian Language

2010-12-27T17:45:00.003+01:00

Abbicci is how we pronounce ABC in Italian. It means ABC, alphabet, primer, rudiments, and basics. I love that abbicci is a word instead of merely ABC. The English equivalent is abecedary, though, I must admit, I have never heard it.

Many of my friends in the States often comment to me that I must now be speaking fluently and like a local. Magari! (I wish) Anzi! (on the contrary).

Since a child and growing up in Los Angeles where Hispanics make up approximately 47% of the population, I spoke Spanish.

My first visit to Italy in 2003 inspired my desire to learn Italian. I thought it would not be too difficult since it is similar to Spanish. Wrong! Spanish is a piece of cake. Italian is -- I don't know what to compare a piece of cake to. A piece of marble? It requires chipping away at the stone for a long time to speak the language at all well.

Twice I received a month-long scholarship to study the language here in Florence, Italy. Once I began studying Italian, my brain told me, "You must decide. Will it be Italian or Spanish?" The two languages are similar yet still so different. Spanish is spoken in more than 20 countries around the world; Italian, primarily in two countries, i.e., Italy and the Ticino region of Switzerland. It would have been more practical to choose Spanish, but I found the Italian language beautiful, melodic, enchanting, and seductive. And I knew I would continue to return to Italy. I chose Italian. Now when I speak the word "gracias," it doesn't sound correct to my ears.

I am in Italy since about a year ago, and I would hope my Italian were near perfect by now. I believe that practice does not make for perfection, rather practice makes permanent. If you play tennis with a bad backhand and continue to play with that bad backhand, it's never going to correct itself. It becomes a permanent bad backhand. Old habits are difficult to break. Yes, I can speak all day in Italian, but I make errors in every other sentence. I imagine I sound like I just crossed the border into this country. I can survive and get along quite well with my level of Italian. But I want more. I want to be able to speak and understand better than I do.

Speaking on the streets and in my day-to-day life, the conversations rarely get deep enough to stretch my language skills, and because most Italians appreciate our attempts to speak their language in their country, they rarely correct us. And, frankly, there is too much English spoken in this town with so many tourists and English-speaking expats. Therefore, I keep reinforcing that bad backhand.

By summer I was becoming frustrated that my Italian was actually getting worse, not even staying at the same level. I had forgotten the rules and the exceptions and was questioning myself when I spoke. Summer of 2006 is when I last studied, and my language was at its peak then. Speaking well, not perfectly, is high up on my list of priorities since I chose Italy to be my home.

At the end of summer, I decided to take private Italian lessons with one of my favorite professors from 2006. It's been a few months now since my professor and I started to review the grammar from the beginning. Days come when I arrive to my professor's office for my lesson and tell him, "I used to love this language, but now I hate it." The only easy part learning Italian is the pronunciation: What you see is exactly how you say it. Italian has a ridiculous amount of rules, and for every rule there are about 20 exceptions. And the verbs... 21 tenses and moods. In English there are several, but we use only about a handful of them and not much changes in the conjugations.

Just this week we are studying the subjunctive tense (congiuntivo). There are four moods: present, past, imperfect, and past imperfect. It is a challenge to learn all the ways to use the subjunctive. I am determined to grasp the proper usage. At this stage in my review of the language, subjunctive, is when the language becomes rich and colorful, where it advances from abbicci to pure romance. We no longer speak only in the indicative, facts: See Dick. See Spot. See Spot chase the squirrel. See Dick chase Spot. I need to express myself clearly. My favorite topics of discussion are often subjective topics, which makes the subjunctive mood a necessity. I am on the edge of properly expressing my hopes, dreams, wants, desires, opinions, doubts, suppositions, uncertainties, fears, experiences, expectations and more and having give-and-take dialogue clearly with others in a foreign language in a foreign country. And it finally is sticking to my brain. My backhand is improving. It is exciting to be able to express myself and understand what others say to me in Italian, to have much deeper, more meaningful conversations, and take the relationships to an all-new level. This is the very meaning of to be rich. The wealth of words and language to me is wealth in our hearts. And with this kind of wealth, many doors open wide. Abbicci spells opportunity. Just in time for the new year.

My New Year's resolution? Expression, self-expression, and a wealthy heart and mind. My pursuit of the Italian language helps me achieve that resolution.

Poinsettia

2010-12-24T11:05:00.001+01:00

A flower associated with Christmas in many parts of the world, its origin is Mexico and was first introduced to the United States by the former U.S. ambassador of the U.S. to Mexico, Dr. Joel Roberts Poinsett, in 1825. The flower is known as Poinsettia in America, Stella di Natale (Christmas Star) in Italy, Noche Buona (Christmas Eve) in Mexico and Guatemala, Flor de Pasqua (Easter Flower) in Spain, Crown of the Andes in Chile and Peru, Atatürk çiçeği (Flower of Atatürk) in Turkey, Αλεξανδρινό (Alexandrinò) in Greece, and Lalupatae, Winter Rose, and Mexican Flame Leaf.

Wishing you

Peace in your heart

Peace in your home

Peace on earth

All the best in 2011

Piu' Biscotti / More Biscotti

2010-12-23T20:20:00.004+01:00

Visible signs of the heavy snowfall less than a week ago melted away with our current heatwave (60° F) and rain, but evidence that someone has been baking in the kitchen is apparent with flour and cookie crumbs on the table, countertops, and floor. So the snowfall is inside my home rather than outdoors.

The experimenting continues.

Cool before slicing and returning to the oven

The first time making biscotti since my attempts last December, and the biscotti are near perfect. A bit of tweaking is still in order, but I learned a big lesson today.

The first batch of batter would not come together; so the cookies eventually found their way into the trash bin. With the second batch I learned I need to trust in the process, and that in time everything will come together. Just like rain and freezing temperatures mix to create snow, if I just keep mixing (being patient, trusting, and doing the footwork), eventually it will stick. And then I place my hands in the mix and knead the dough. The trick is to get the mix just right: not too farinoso (floury; figuratively: flowery) nor too appiccicoso (sticky, gluey; figuratively: clingy, clinging).

Ready to eat

In the case of my quasi perfect biscotti, today it worked. Magical. What a wonder it is to create. The second part of the lesson is to take what I learned out of the kitchen and apply it in my day-to-day life.

Mabel gets comfy while I bake

Snowed In

2010-12-19T23:56:00.003+01:00

Rosehips

under snow

The Day After

2010-12-18T12:50:00.009+01:00

Ponte Vecchio

Not a cloud in the sky today, the sunshine is bright and brilliant, reflecting yesterday's 11 inches of snowfall. The forecast calls for a chance of more snow tomorrow evening.

Ponte alle Grazie

Mabel and I learned the hard way that she is not crazy about the snow under her little paws. She will wear her little, pink booties on her feet the next time we return to a snowy outdoors.

Santa Clauses on Ponte Vecchio

Before my eleventh birthday, which was a very long time ago, my birthday wish was to have a white Christmas. Figuring snow to be a frequent visitor to Detroit, Michigan, I flew to visit relatives. That winter, though, was unusually warm -- no snow on Christmas -- so I renegotiated my wish. A few days later, my cousin woke me early in the morning to tell me it was snowing. Finally! We rushed outdoors, still in our pajamas, to play in the snow, have snowball fights, and make snowmen and snow angels. My wish came true on my birthday.

Scales of Justice

I can't share with you this year's wish, but I hope it too comes true.

"Ti Amo"

I am old and wise enough to know that while you can't always get what you want when you want it, if you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need. Sometimes it is the day after and what we need is also what we truly want.

Florence street

Nevica Oggi / It is Snowing Today

2010-12-17T17:31:00.003+01:00

On the cusp of a change in season

What is it about snow that brings out the child in each of us?

A dusting of snowflakes

Especially the first snowfall of the winter. Especially for this girl from sunny Southern California where Santa Claus spends his time at the beach in shorts, holding a drink with an umbrella rather than drink a hot toddy, and Santa's elves wear string bikinis.

The girls ...

... only an hour or two later ...

... on Ponte Vecchio

I love weather's many changes. I love the sunshine warming my soul. I love the wind making me feel alive and frisky. I love the rain, thunder, and lightning, being childlike and splashing in puddles, coming indoors and watching the rain fall, raindrops on the window, and steamy windows, and having that someone special with whom to cuddle.

Duomo

Palazzo Vecchio

Piazza Repubblica

Duomo

Piazza del Duomo

Snow...something so fresh, new, pure, clean, calming, quiet, and peaceful about fresh snow.

Piazza Signoria (above 3 fotos)

The elements when they keep changing, instead of staying the same, cause me to feel vibrant and alive. If only I could embrace this attitude with the continual changes in my personal life...

We just had to go out and play. Everyone is happy, smiling, and laughing.

Arno

We'll see how much I love it when the snowfall turns to rain and the snow on the streets turns to ice and it becomes frightening to walk on.

Lungarno

But today, as the snow continues to fall, Florence is heaven and a playground for all.

Sledding outside my house

One of about three streets in Florence with a slight hill

Bel Giorno

2010-12-12T10:15:00.005+01:00

A day with gorgeous light, the streets full of people in spite of the cold, enjoy a walk through Centro Storico with me.

Ponte Vecchio

Palazzo Vecchio

Via Roma

Dead animals (there is a lot of that here)

"Caldarroste" Hot roasted chestnuts

Street painting

Nostalgic for cotton candy

Via Calzaiuoli (shoemaker street)

Xmas lights on Via del Corso

Via del Corso

"Mangia, mangia!"

Zingara (gypsy woman)

Love

David

Giambologna's "Nettuno"

Connected (more dead animals on their heads)

Rivoire (8 Euro hot chocolate!)

Fett'unta

2010-12-05T18:36:00.031+01:00

What the heck is fett'unta? It's a greasy, garlicy, piece of toasted or grilled bread. It is the Italian version of garlic bread and tastes delicious.

Fett'unta = fetta (slice) + unta (from the verb ungere, meaning greasy or oily) = oily slice or greasy bread. End of math lesson.

In Tuscany, the traditional Tuscan bread is saltless and rather boring for that lack. This happened because during the 12th Century the Pope put a hefty tax on salt, which the Florentines couldn't afford to pay. Even today, in the 21st Century, they continue to make bread without salt. Saltless bread does not detract from the flavors of the rest of your well-seasoned meal.

At this time of year, late autumn, fett'unta is served more often in restaurants in Tuscany than during the rest of the year. After the back-breaking labor of picking olives and then within a few days going to il frantoio (the olive mill), everyone rushes home with their new oil to make fett'unta and swallow it with a glass of Chianti. New oil is made from the first harvest of the olives in the fall when the olives are not quite as ripe as they become after a few weeks more in the sun. The quality of the oil is peppery with a punch, the color is green, and the health benefits are higher.

Because I am not crazy about the plain, old Tuscan bread, I visit one of several of my favorite panetterie or forni (bakers or bread stores) and choose from a variety of whole grain breads.

Then I slice bread from the widest part of the loaf (not too soft nor too fresh). Toast it or, better yet, grill it on top of the stove. Cover with new virgin olive oil, and rub the bread with fresh garlic. If you like, add a little sea salt and pepper. That's fett'unta. Enjoy!

What you do from here is up to you. What I have been doing is adding to the recipe as the Tuscan's do. This makes for a very healthful, quick to prepare, and economical dinner loaded with protein, vitamins, minerals, fiber, and flavor.

You could, for example, cook cavolo nero (lachinato kale) or bietola (beet greens): Boil water in a pan. After rinsing the leaves, place in the boiling water for about 30 seconds. Drain.

Add on top of the fett'unta.

Add some beans of your choice. I am using a mix of ceci (garbanzo beans) and cannellini (Italian white beans). I buy dried, organic beans. After soaking a minimum of eight hours and changing the water frequently (to reduce the gassy problem), I cook the beans in water with a small amount of olive oil, garlic, and some sea salt until the beans are al dente and the water is just cooked out.

Add the beans on top of the kale. Top with more new olive oil, sea salt, and pepper.

And wouldn't you know? All this talking about fett'unta caused me to crave some now. What better occasion than a visit by a friend? He's Italian, from another part of Tuscany. He'd never heard of it before and never ate it. So, of course, I made fett'unta for lunch. I thought it was cute how about five times I had to tell him the name, fett'unta, and why it's called that. So maybe it's even more regional than I thought. No matter, he liked it. So will you.

Buon appetito.

Mantra

2010-12-02T09:08:00.007+01:00

MATTINA

M'illumino

d'immenso

Seven melodic syllables. Italian. Not Sanskrit, not English. So simple, yet profound. Written by Giuseppe Ungaretti, a classic Italian poet. Lost in translation, the essence of it's meaning: Immensity enlightens me / I enlighten myself by immensity.

Morning. Immensity. Greatness. Power. Spiritual illumination. All that is possible when I choose to get out of my own way.

Today this poem serves as my mantra.

Firenze Marathon 2010

2010-11-28T12:46:00.002+01:00

A short film

Filmed on location from my balcony

Whistling, yelling, clapping, horns, drums, noisemakers, church bells, words of encouragement all cheering me on and supporting me to be my best, to run my race, to cross my finish line is what was calling to me from below my windows. Grazie.

Oh...all that cheering wasn't meant for me?

~17 km into the race

Some people are still on the course of the Florence Marathon as I write this blog post.

After crossing the finish line and taking your well-deserved medal...

Whenever I see a marathon as a spectator, I reminisce with fond memories and emotions of the days I was a marathoner.

...you get wrapped in a space blanket

Last year's marathon was ideal running weather for a race; this year it's cold and wet.

Gotta love the Port-O-Potties

Room with a View

2010-11-27T01:45:00.001+01:00

A view from one of my bedroom windows

Fiat Cinquecento

2010-11-18T12:39:00.001+01:00

Twenty-seven years have passed since Fiat has had a presence in the United States, but the news is out that Fiat is returning to the States with the release of the 2011 Fiat Cinquecento (500) (pronounced "chinkwa-chentoe"), and it promises to compete with the MINI Cooper. The starting price of the Fiat 500 in the States will be $15,500, about $5,000 less than a MINI Cooper If you are in Los Angeles, you can see the car at the Los Angeles International Auto Show beginning tomorrow (November 19, 2010).

The new design of the car was released in Europe in 2007 and is very popular.

Following WWII, the Fiat 500 was Italy's answer to the VW Beetle.

Old or new, the car is damn cute!

A bit of trivia: Most of us are unaware the MINI Cooper Clubman also existed in the 1960s. I learned that last year when I happened upon one.

Prato

2010-11-15T20:32:00.004+01:00

Nineteen minutes by train from Florence (15 km), I arrived to Prato, Italy, to meet a friend a meta' strada (halfway) and see a town I've been curious about for quite some time.

Basilica Cattedrale Di Santo Stefano

I find it hard to imagine, coming from Los Angeles, that Prato, with only 180,000 inhabitants, is Italy's third largest city following Rome and Florence

Fresco on the ceiling inside the Basilica Cattedrale Di Santo Stefano

Prato has its history in textiles. Today it is the garment district of Florence. Full of immigrants in the past 60 years and Chinese in particular since the 1980s, it is also Tuscany's official Chinatown. If you're really desperate to eat Chinese food while in Tuscany, then Prato is the place to find authentic Chinese cuisine. The "Made in Italy" label on the scarves and many other items you might buy while in Italy are often made by the Chinese in Prato, Italy.

Shadows above the candles

Finocchiona salami

Finocchiona is a Tuscan salami made with fennel seed and one of my all-time favorites. Its origin is from Prato when allegedly someone stole a salami from the market and hid it in a bushel of finocchio (fennel). When he later retrieved his salami, he discovered the salami had absorbed the aroma of the fennel. And a new salami was born.

Prato (field under grass, meadow) is a small town with a very old historical center and well worth visiting. There are several churches to see with a few important pieces of artwork, the textile musuem, a castle, some nice piazze (squares) to pass some leisure time and fare una bella chiacchierata (to have a good chitchat).

And I am always in the mood for a caffeè macchiato (espresso with a spot of milk). Don't forget from my recent post, this is also home to the famous Antonio Mattei biscotti.

-- Josslyn

Prato, Italia

Soup Time

2010-11-09T21:27:00.002+01:00

What do you do on a cold, windy, rainy afternoon when you have completed your work and have other work to do but you are procrastinating? You make soup. That's what I did today.

I ventured out in the pouring rain to my local fruttivendolo (greengrocer) and bought the best possible locally grown produce, herbs, and organic lentils all from Tuscany. Here is what I did:

INGREDIENTS

extra virgin, cold-pressed olive oil

1 onion

1 leek

5 stalks of celery

6 carrots

several cloves of garlic

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 small can of tomatoes (diced)

2 cups of lentils (rinsed in cold water)

vegetable stock or fresh water

fresh thyme

fresh Italian parsley

freshly grated Parmesan cheese (no Kraft products EVER!!!)

First, I put on some great music to accompany me in the kitchen. I played some blues, a live B.B. King CD. As the soup was on the stove, the windows fogged up, and the scent from the vegetables and herbs perfumed the house. It was just the right ingredients to make for a cozy, comfy homestay.

Chop the vegetables very fine in preparation for making soffritto (sauted mixture of freshly chopped vegetables and ham or bacon). I want to explain.

Soffritto is the base of many soups and other dishes in Italian cooking. I chose not to add any meat to the soffritto because I wanted a vegetarian soup. The vegetables ideally should be chopped so small that they are barely larger than a lentil. Many people tell me they find all that chopping to be a form of meditation and very relaxing. Being that I'm not a big fan of cooking nor the most patient person, I find it to be work. I chopped my vegetables pretty finely today, but they were not uniform. One reason is I lack the essential cooking tools. A mezzaluna (half moon; crescent shape) is what's really necessary for efficiently and quickly doing all that chopping, which is a crescent-shaped knife with two wooden handles that you rock back and forth as you chop your vegetables. And the other reason is I started to get lazy.

After chopping all the vegetables, heat the olive oil, add the vegetables and saute until the vegetables begin to get tender (about 8 minutes). Add the garlic, salt, and pepper. Add the tomatoes and juice and let simmer a few minutes until the juice begins to evaporate. Add the lentils, coat in the mixture. Add the stock or fresh water. I probably used about 2 quarts of vegetable stock. I didn't measure it, which is what I love about Italian cooking. It doesn't have to be perfect. Add the thyme. Bring to a boil, then cover the pot and simmer on a very low fire until the lentils are almost tender (al dente), about 30 minutes.

Lentils are more commonly used in Indian and Middle Eastern cooking; however, in Italian lentil soup, a pasta is usually added. If you would like to add some pasta, toss it into the pot when the lentils are al dente and simmer until the pasta becomes tender.

Once the soup is ladled into the bowl, add some fresh Italian parsley, fresh grated Parmesan cheese, sprinkle some olive oil, and serve with a yummy crusty bread.

Add some friends and laughter, and the soup becomes that much better.

Orsanmichele

2010-11-07T17:48:00.000+01:00

Some of the smaller details from outside Orsanmichele.

Mabel, however, is a big detail with a grand and regal presence in Florence, Italy.

Italian Men in a Nutshell

2010-11-06T07:11:00.004+01:00

Who doesn't love Italian men? I am a sucker for them.

Since I have been coming to Italy, I learn over and over that they are like Pinocchio.

"Pinocchio, you can only become a real boy if you learn how to be brave, honest, and generous."

End of story.

The Glow of Sunset

2010-11-03T21:56:00.001+01:00

Dear Reader

2010-11-01T23:55:00.005+01:00

We're coming up on a year since the birth of my blog. Still, the blog percolates; not entirely certain the direction I want to go, although some things I am certain about. One is that I want to write frequently and consistently. In looking at many blogs recently, a common trend I have noticed is the blogger apologizing for being away from posting for a length of time. Oh, please don't let me do that. I do not want to blog out of obligation to you, my reader. First and foremost, I write for myself, and second, you. This is tricky because my ego gets in the way. So I will tell you that I strive to post more frequently. So please do keep coming back; follow the blog; share the blog.

In fact, let me reveal a little secret desire. I'd love to see 2,001 hits on my blog by November 7, the anniversary. That's a high expectation, but it is possible. In fact, I can see it. A week from now I am looking at ClustrMaps on my blog, and I see the 2,001 total visits from various parts of the world since I started blogging last year. And you can help make that happen. Of course, it isn't about quantity, but it is a mini Bhavana of mine.

And comment, please! Again, I write for myself foremost. But once again, the ego... I love hearing from you, what moves you, what you like reading, what you don't, or to know whether anyone out there even reads my words. So indulge me with a little ego-stroking now and then, but please keep it genuine. Don't say it if you don't mean it.

My intention since inception has been to write honestly. I want to get to know myself better through my writing and to take risks -- while allowing you to know me too. On the Internet, that's an extremely vulnerable position because the Internet is infinite. And this especially challenges the ego, my ego. Like most of us, I have wasted energy and time worrying about what others think, their judgments of me. Of course, I care and want to be liked -- or better yet, loved -- but in writing honestly, that means I want to write uncensored without fear of what you may think of me, whom I might offend, or what will come back to haunt me (good thing I have no plans of going into politics). Because few people have bothered to really know me, if I died tomorrow, perhaps someone would understand me. Perhaps you even relate to me.

Some posts have been superficial and light, others educational and/or experiential, and some others more self-revealing. I want to share with you my experiences of the place I love, Italy, and my personal evolution in leaving my corporate-American lifestyle to learning how to live a life truer to my heart, spending quality time with people I care about, eating food that's more natural and closer to the source and full of prana, feeling the wind on my face, my feet on the ground instead of driving in my bubble leaving my pod to go to a larger pod and having little human contact on a daily basis. That's how I lived in Los Angeles; that's why I left Los Angeles. That kind of writing isn't always positive and upbeat. Many times it's about disappointment, disillusion, and sadness. Or maybe it's the sadness and grief from long ago that I have yet to resolve; so it keeps reappearing as pedestrians in front of my car. Or the insecurities -- when I have a muffin top, I believe I'm no longer lovable -- and the addictions I battle, and the chatter that goes on inside my head that tells me I'm different from the rest of you, and I believe it! So I still have a long way to go on my personal journey.

I consider a second blog, one in which I can cut loose and let that stuff out and maybe not confuse and scare you, my readers, and find men in white coats at my apartment door with a straitjacket for me to wear. However, as a sole-practitioner, I never liked the idea of having two or more checking accounts -- one for personal, and one for business -- because to me, it's all one pocket. It's all me, and it comes from the same source. And that's how I feel about having another blog. I'd like to keep it all one.

Also, I'm moving away from signing my name at the end of each blog posting. I'll use it when I blog from or about another location. Otherwise, it feels redundant.

Eccomi (Here I am), still a very simple girl moving in the direction of living a simpler, less-complicated and more genuine life in Florence, Italy, one day at a time.

In Pace / In Peace

Not Halloween

2010-10-31T21:30:00.002+01:00

Tonight might be Halloween in America and other parts of the world. But in Italy, it is just another day. However, it is a long weekend because tomorrow, November 1, is Ognisanti or Tutti i Santi (All Saints' Day). It is a religious holiday celebrating all known and unknown saints. And the day after tomorrow is All Souls' Day, which commemorates the departed who have attained the beatific vision.

So for Italians it is a long weekend, and the streets are packed with local tourists from the south and elsewhere.

Look at all those people waiting to get into the Uffizi! That is why I recommend making a reservation in advance. Think about all the gelato you would miss out on if you spent hours waiting to enter the museum. With a reservation, you just walk in to the museum at your reserved time.

Last night we turned our clocks back an hour, and this weekend officially marks the beginning of the holiday season. From now until early January, there will be one holiday after another. What I remember from last year was the challenge in keeping up with which days I needed to shop in advance of the closure of stores and for how many days in advance did I need to plan if I wanted to eat each and every one of those days. Obviously, I don't like to miss my meals. Coming from America, I was in shock when there were a couple weeks where everything was closed five days in a row, then they would open for two days, and then close again.

Maybe I should consider taking up canning ... like right now.

Getting Close

2010-10-30T23:59:00.005+02:00

Here's the thing.

I am a freak for geometry, not in the sense of mathematics -- I did not get beyond pre-algebra -- but in the sense of shapes, patterns, forms, lines, and angles. I love the abstract quality of getting in close to something and seeing its beauty from a different perspective.

When it comes to technology, I am a bit challenged. I have this camera that frustrates me. It has been decided and proven that in the case of my current camera and photography, it is not only the operator that is defective but the camera itself. So it is not completely my fault that my pictures are often not sharp or crystal clear. That being said, the macro feature seems to be working well. And I am pleased with the results of this beautiful little flower.

In the grass grows in abundance these beautiful flowers that are smaller than an inch (< 2.5 cm) in size.

To many, these wildflowers are considered weeds. Weeds are usually thought of as a plant growing in a place not intended or desired therefore having little value. I value these weeds and consider them flowers.

Considering that the flower is so tiny in size and I photographed only a portion of the flower, I like what I see up close.

In two of the photos, you'll find an insect or some type of fly -- it has wings -- that I did not notice before loading the photos on the computer. Hopefully, you are not bored seeing the same flower many times. I love the color and details and couldn't decide which photos to leave out.

Simple pleasure.