Sleeping and Sightseeing in Florence, Italy

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.

Unità d'Italia / Unification Day

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.

La Festa delle Donne / Women's Day

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.

Casalinga Lunch in Cortona, Italy

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

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.

Buona Domenica / Good Sunday

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

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.

Groceries

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

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...?

Abbicci and the Art of the Italian Language

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.

Mantra

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.  

Soup Time

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.