gofarther.me

Kathy and I went for a brisk and long walk along the River Arno today. The weather was outstanding–clear and cool with a warm sun–exactly what I like. Here are a few more tidbits about how things work in Italy, at least Florence.

–Waste disposal. There is no trash pick up. You take your trash to an area disposal site. Thankfully, ours is just steps away from our apartment entrance. The site has several large receptacles that have a foot pedal. They are marked for plastic, glass etc. You push the foot pedal and the receptacle opens–you put the trash in and it gulps it down into a huge container below. Starting next year, residents will be given a magnetic key that has your personal information on it and you will wave it at the receptacle and it will open and measure how much you put in and meter that amount and you will pay tax on the amount you put in monthly.

–Tobacco Shop. They are plentiful and this is where you buy tickets, especially for the bus system.

–Water Closets. Yes, you pay to use public ones. They are clean and constantly disinfected, so that is a plus. The cost is between 1 and 2E. You do not use one in a store or restaurant unless you are buying something. They watch closely.

–Pedestrian only. Florence has large pedestrian only streets. They are clearly marked with a sign with a red light. Drive past the light without a permit (taxi or delivery truck) and the camera takes your photo and the fine is an automatic 150E.

–Cobblestone. Kathy brought one of those four wheeler spinner bags. I thought that the two wheeler was better. I was right. The four wheeler will not go over the cobblestone easily and cobblestone is everywhere. The two wheeler is a trooper. Guess who has to lug the four wheeler. That’s right–Kathy. I said, “You wanted it, you have it.” Actually, I grit my teeth and do it. What makes it worse is that it is purple. WEG

While much is the same–they drive on the same side of the street in Italy–some things are different. It is like you have just enough knowledge and familiarity to get you into trouble.

–Watch where you drive. Randy was driving in Lucca when they were here. The US GPS said drive here–the older folks were wildly waving us down–it was the city wall, built in the Middle Ages for fortification and not driving. I told Randy it looked like a sidewalk–he said all the streets were narrow. How do you spell retreat? Melisa talked Spanish so they would not know we were Americans. At least that’s how I remember it now that they have returned home. Randy might suggest that I told him to drive there, but his memory would be faulty on that point.
–Get out at closing time. We were on the last gondola down from Mount Baldo in Malcesine on Lake Garda. I needed to use the restroom in the big visitor center below as we exited the gondola. I did. It was then that we discover we were locked in. Thankfully one remaining attendant noticed Kathy and Melisa as he was exiting. He had to unlock the doors and open the underground garage where our car was parked to let us out. Imagine what would have happened if he had not noticed them. I had not been in the restroom long. When they have a closing time, they mean it.
–Take a number. You can get into big trouble by pointing to something you want when you do not have a number from the omnipresent little number machine. Most are manual, some automatic. The manual ones are often stuck. You still need a number. I have learned how to unstick them now and glare at tourists who ignorantly don’t get one. OK, I am not the glaring kind of person; I help them.
–Gloves, please. You take the plastic gloves and put them on before you pick up fruit or vegetables. This is the European way. We are getting used to it and actually like it.
–Weigh it right. They do not weigh fruits and vegetables at checkout; you must weigh them when you get them. You select fruit or vegetable on the screen first, then punch in the two digit number for the item (only two digits, easy to remember) with a picture beside the number that is like the item being purchased. The machine spits out the cost quickly. You stick it on the bag and continue on.
–Rent a car. Even the big chains close on Sunday. If you do not turn in your car by a certain time on Saturday or Sunday, you get charged for an extra day. Thankfully, we made sure to do this right, since we had to leave on a Sunday and if the rental was closed we would have had to stay another day since there would have been no place to leave our car on Sunday. Some of the rentals take an automatic 750E fee in case you have an accident, and should you have an accident, even if not your fault, you do not get the refund until the insurance pays.
–Cross walk. Striped lines mean pedestrians have right of way, unless there is a stop light. They also mean, this is where pedestrians must cross the street. Oh, yes, watch out for bicycles. They mix in with walking traffic. Little bells mean watch out, I am behind you. Oh, yes, watch out for motorcycles and scooters. They mix in with walking traffic. A loud hum means get out of my way; I am behind you and will run you down.
–Meal courses–Menus come with an appetizer and three courses printed out. You do not have to order from each one, however, some do. Many restaurants have price fixed several course dinners for the day. Being Italy, pasta in its various forms is big on the menu. We often order different things and share. That is acceptable. Service charge is on the bill already, but you can leave an extra tip if the service was outstanding, as it is at our little trattoria by the gate that leads to our apartment. The waiter now waves to me when we go by. WEG

The streets of Florence are not as confusing as those in Venice. No up and down steps on bridges ad nauseam and no abrupt dead ends–still, because streets do not run in straight lines, it is easy to get turned around in Florence. Today, the rains stopped and the sun came out to blue skies and the temperature was fantastic. Kathy and I went strolling about.

Our street Vigna Nuovo is a shopping street. Right down from our apartment entrance are Gucci, Cartier, Chopard, Bulgari and the like. Mont Blanc and Visconti compete with each other and are practically side by side and next door to us and various Italian fashion stores are peppered along the street that leads to a big archway into a major piazza that stands between the Duomo and the Uffizi Gallery. We have walked this street many times, but today we went the other way that leads to a bridge over the Arno River and the Oltrarno District of Florence. Just before the bridge our street joins several other streets. Kathy and I basically made a u-turn onto the first street to intersect with ours. We had not walked this way before. We found ourselves in the antique district. Stores sold vintage clothing, antique furniture and accessories, porcelain and lighting. Kathy was intrigued with an Italian made to order wedding gown and event clothing shop. They displayed the magazine photos of famous people wearing the clothes made there. As we walked, modern Italian design shops appeared. Anyone building new or remodeling would have a fun time getting ideas in these shops. Before we knew it, the Santa Maria Nouvella Square and Church stood before us. We turned to the right and walked a street leading to the Duomo. We could see its massive dome towering over the buildings as we walked. It was a relaxing, enjoyable jaunt that brought us to familiar territory once again. We saw the archway that led to our street and our apartment. WEG

The Standly’s left for Rome to have a whirlwind day of sightseeing, ending in standing in St. Peter’s Square watching for the smoke that would indicate an election or non-election of a new Pope. They would then head home to Tomball. Kathy and I thought we were going to the large Tuesday market held in a park in Florence. It was raining when the Standly’s train pulled out at 7:38 am. It was cold. Kathy and I looked at each other and knew we were not going to the outdoor market. Next Tuesday would be just fine. We headed to the big indoor market by St. Lorenzo Church not far from out apartment. We picked up food items for our day at the apartment–fresh focaccia bread, fresh chicken breast, risotto–when in Italy, eat like the Italians. It is fun wading through all the food stalls and making decisions about what to buy and then figuring out how to get it. Sometimes you take a ticket and sometimes you don’t; sometimes you can touch the produce and sometimes you can’t. We watch natives to figure out the procedure. The chicken is in the case with the head on (so that no one can accuse you of running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off); the rabbit is totally skinned and stretched out as if running; the beef and pork are cut by the butcher to your specification and you can buy portions of large loaves of bread–the baker will cut it for you (most Italian bread has no salt–they say this is so that the bread cannot steal from the flavor of the food with which it is being consumed.

I went out for a walk around the apartment as night fell and found some lost American tourists. I asked if I could help and felt like such a native knowing everything they asked and getting them to the right street. That felt good. Kathy and I ate our Italian home cooking and listened to Italian opera in the background. Tomorrow we walk neighborhood streets to window shop and get exercise. Gucci and similar stores are on our street. An Italian fashion store with an entire window that is a video screen is just across from us. I am sure this marketing instrument is coming to Houston soon. WEG

Basilica de San Miniato al Monte sits on a hill high above and overlooking Florence. The sight from its plaza is glorious. All the great buildings of the city are within one awe-inspiring look. Within that look is more than the sight, it is the knowledge of the grand sweep of history that is within view–centuries of rulership and art ooze from the buildings. We are at the Basilica for the evening vespers of the monks who reside there and to which the public is allowed to witness. They are singing the ancient Gregorian chant in the crypt below the main altar in which the brothers who have died over the years are buried. The tombstones of the deceased monks form the floor upon which the pews sit. Because the Basilica is stone and marble with no heating and the weather outside cool, the interior is dark and cold. The voices singing the liturgy echo throughout the Basilica. All is quiet except the voices, and it is a touching experience. WEG

Beautiful Italy–A Fond Farewell

How do you say in a few sentences what a trip of a lifetime means? This trip exceeded all of our dreams. We have laughed and teased each other all the way through ITALY.

I can easily say that we have learned more about history and the hard working people who came before us with a passion for the beauty of the art that they would only be a small part of completing…beautiful masterpieces that would take hundreds of years to finish and yet , they would see their part to fruition. I thought of how our own lives are much the same…part of a beautiful masterpiece in God’s tapestry.

We have been to the Arno River, the Mediterranean Sea, the Adriatic Sea and even Lake Garda….what a treat to see so much of God’s beauty.

Randy and I both said that this was in the top three vacations of our life….we are so grateful to have had this time to be with the Graumann’s and share in their encore life. Melisa Standly

Turn north of Verona and somehow you enter an Italy you had not imagined. The narrow allies of the hill towns disappear, the historic central cities are not an attraction, art is not the reason for existence, and agricultural pursuits are not evident. What you find are towering snow-covered mountains and beautiful lakes. A chic atmosphere dominates. The eyes of Italy in this part of the world turn north towards Switzerland and Austria, and the architecture and food begin to incorporate northern elements: like pasta with beef sauce rather than tomato sauce, and fat dumplings instead of spaghetti, and steeples rather than towers on churches, and roof designs like chalets rather than villas. Lake Garda is crystal clear and big. We drove one hour on the eastern shore and did not go the length. We stopped at Malcesine to ride the gondola to the top of Mt. Baldo. As we drove the shoreline drive, the mountains began to rise sharply on both sides of the lake, and at Malcesine, the cozy and tony village with pastel-colored buildings and boat harbor and towering castle jutting into the lake, Mt. Baldo reigns supreme. Snow skiers joined us on the gondola ride since the mountain is still snow covered. The Standly’s mused to us that we had been on the ocean shore that morning in Venice and now we were on the mountain top. I mused that we had left one Italy and entered another. WEG

Lake Garda is peppered with castles. Old and foreboding with thick walls and turreted towers, they now sit proudly above or within the coastal communities that dot the lake. They are attention grabbers. Sirmione sits on a peninsula that juts into the lake. It is a “wow” community and it is obvious that it is a favorite among the “with it” set of folks who happen to have means. The lake is very clear and the ducks, sea gulls and swans that wait for crumbs to be tossed are picturesque as they weave and bob on the blue water. As the sun pushed the fog away, Lake Garda cast its magic spell and begged for us to stay longer, but after two days, it was time to go.

While at Garda, I would take wonderful pictures of the Standly’s. I would beg Randy to take a picture of Kathy and me. When he finally would consent, acting somewhat peeved that I was interrupting his shopping for a shirt or tie, the results were not the best. He would complain that the sun was in his eyes or that we were standing in the dark or whatever. I would say that I had no problem taking his picture and he would say that I knew how to use the camera and he didn’t. So, with the pictures posted here, you have the evidence right in front of your eyes. For those of you who know him, when you see him back in Tomball, don’t let him fool you with sweet talk about how he sacrificed to make the Graumann’s “encore life” tour easier:-) WEG

Kathy and I and the Standly’s, who are traveling with us right now, share a common experience–we both tried to make homemade ravioli from scratch with terrible results. To remedy that situation, we went to Italian cooking school today on the Lido (a small island close to Venice). We boarded the vaporetto–the large water taxi that plies the big canals in Venice on a scheduled route–for the trip out to the island. We walked its quaint streets to the residential neighborhood where our class was to take place. It was a beautiful neighborhood where each house was a villa–large, stately and old. Marika, our instructor, is a culinary chef by training, but settled on the Lido to teach cooking. Her villa was remodeled for this purpose. The kitchen was a dream, every appliance imaginable. If you watch any of the food network cooking shows, this was her kitchen–built in flash freezer, built in sparkling water spout, commercial ice cream maker, commercial pasta dough maker, built in coffee machine that makes every coffee thing imaginable, etc. There were 12 students (England, Belgium, France, and Texas) and Marika and her three assistants and room for all to work. What a day!

We made Venetian vegetables tempura; ravioli with spinach and ricotta in a butter and sage sauce; potato and spinach gnocchi with gorgonzola sauce; black Ligurian olive gnocchi with caramelized tomatoes and scampi; sgroppino veneziano (lemon sorbet ice cream mixture with prosecco wine). All of this was made from scratch and we all decided that we can come home and make ravioli with confidence. Yes, we did get to eat the labor of our hands and everyone agreed that what I made tasted the best 🙂 In fact, you could actually pick out which gnoccchi I made by hand from the serving bowl–they tasted so good–my secret–I didn’t wash my hands for three days beforehand 🙂

Below is the recipe for the sgroppino veneziano–serves 12. This is really good!

For the sorbet/ice cream (sorbet is not made with milk, but sgroppino is made like sorbet but with milk, thus making it ice cream like)

1 cup of heavy cream
3/4 cup sugar
1 cup whole milk
Juice of 3 organic lemons
Vanilla extract–whole vanilla bean in the hot milk, scraped and pod discarded

Melt the sugar in the milk that is warming on the stove. Add the vanilla bean and then add the cold heavy cream and then the fresh squeezed lemon juice. Stirring constantly, heat the mixture, but DO NOT BOIL. Scrape the inner vanilla bean and discard the pod–it is ok, in fact, preferred, to get the black vanilla beans in the mixture. (P.S. It will curdle a little and that is ok as it will dissolve as it mixes to freeze.) Place in an ice cream machine for at least 25 minutes or until softly frozen and then pour into a CHILLED container and place into a freezer.

For the liquid:

1 Tablespoon Absolute Lemon Vodka
1/4 Cup Prosecco Wine
1/3 Cup Sprite

Add the Prosecco, Vodka and Sprite to the frozen sorbet/ice cream and whisk with an electric blender to reach a smooth creamy consistency. It has to be creamy enough to drink. If too thick, add more Prosecco. Serve in a fluted glass.

Kathy and I decided to just walk Venice–no map–just see where each turn would take us. It was a fog-laden day, just the right kind of day for exploring narrow alleys and small plazas. Randy and Melisa were off to the Doges Palace. Kathy and I have been there and will likely go again later this year, so we opted for the walk. We had seen Murano earlier in the day and had watched a master glass blower make a vase. We also visited Burano where we had watched a skilled woman knit lace. (OK–we had to ride the vaporetto to get to those two small islands.) On our walk, we saw open courtyards and open churches–one had a magnificent painted ceiling and lit candles. We saw the great St. Mark’s Cathedral with its gold mosaics lining multiple domes. We saw little bridges, either stone or iron, and had to traipse over many of them. Everywhere were archways and towers. We often walked into a dead end at a canal or plaza and just turned around and tried a new route. I told Kathy that eventually we would end up somewhere, and we did–the Rialto Bridge and the fish market that we had seen earlier in the day. From the Rialto, we knew our bearings. It was an adventure–one I like–just launch out and see where the current takes you and enjoy the trip.

We effortlessly glided along the rails comfortably situated in our train coach. It was raining all across Italy. We rode past green pastures and large vineyards. Then suddenly, the Adriatic was on both sides of the track, signaling our arrival in the Venice St. Lucia Station. Venice does not change. The canals and bridges that cross them are ever-present. Old buildings with archways and shops of every description line very narrow streets. The good news is that there are no cars, bicycles or scooters to vie for the limited space. There are gondolas, water taxis, and vaporettos to ferry you if you do not wish to walk. It is so very easy to get lost. Streets do not always go through, ending abruptly at a wall or building or canal, and dark alleyways seem somewhat foreboding, especially on an overcast day. We spent our afternoon walking around and to see the great San Marco Square, large and formal and beautiful. Tomorrow holds much in store. WEG