A Delightful Episode of Sensory Overload: Istanbul

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

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.

A Saturnia a Maremma in Toscana

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.

Giro in Bicicletta / Bike Ride

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.  

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