Train 9939 for Bari departs from binario 8. Jack and I were ensconced in Italo’s first class lounge at Milano Centrale. Ah, the benefits of senior rates and first class train travel. We didn’t rush and drag our suitcases down two flights or up escalators. We gathered up our bags and took the private elevator right to the tracks.
Italo’s first class lounge in Milan is a long and narrow room that is filled with comfortable “Italo Red” couches. We snagged two that faced each other and stared out the window at the minions racing from binario to binario, while we sipped coffee and noshed on a snack or three.
Great view of the energy of the station.
My phone rang and not being on the concourse I could actually hear my pals talk to me. We swapped stories when I said shit. There is an influencer shooting video and describing the lounge with me in the frame. Should I flip her the bird? Would she give me a SAG day rate? By the time I got my hand over my head she turned her phone in the other direction. Hmm, maybe I need to be more conscious of what or whom I snap a video of?
We boarded the train and discovered I had booked the Italo Club Car with two private rooms, five single seats and our four facing seats. (We were originally traveling with friends and booked the easy conversation facing seats.) Promptly, all cozy in his Club Chair, Jack started snoring. I decided it would be rude to take of picture of him with his mouth open and took this one instead.
If our friends had come we would have played kneesy. You need to know your seat mates well.
I miss our friends, but am glad we aren’t sitting with knees touching. Luckily, no one sat in the other seats – yet. Obviously, I made a mistake booking a four some. The singles along the window and private rooms looked more comfortable. That said, Jack was so comfortable, even with the train traveling at 248K an hour, my husband slept through five stops.
We had the four top to ourselves until Firenze. The “fixer” boarded and sat across from us. What is an ADTrentino? Anybody know? Seriously, this quasi business attired woman just said that to the ticket taker and no ticket was shown. The big clue she would spend the trip blathering was her reaching under the armrest to plug in her phone. The second clue was the focused scrolling through her contact list. Call one – to a harried professoressa asking the teacher to cut a student a break. It was obviously a hard sell. If she had called me, I would have hung up on her. She kept going on and on about this kid. I wanted to shout, let the kid fail, but I realized then she would know I understood her. Call two – to set up a meeting with someone she wanted to lobby on behalf of something else. Call three – social faces into the FaceTime screen. Call four – and it went on and on. I stared at her. She said to her call Devo parlare basso voce. And then she finally started to whisper. I guess the raised eyebrow stare got to her. My laughter erupted – her whisper was entertaining to the entire cabin.
A wonderfully harried young businessman raced into the car shouting in English on his phone. “No, we can’t meet then. This is important bla bla bla.” He went into one of the private cabins, shut the door and continued not just that conversation, but hung up and started another. Then another and another. All corporate secrets were revealed to the whole car. The little room had walls – but they didn’t reach to the ceiling! I was impressed he spoked English with an Eastern European Accent and about three other languages. Too bad, he was so stressed out. The weather was great and the views he never saw were fabulous.
Great! I snapped just as the letters were changing. But you understand the entertainment value.
Il treno viaggia in orario. The changing sign kept me amused and since it was being read aloud in both Italian and English I really got a giggle out of it. What a great way to learn important phrases in either language. Prossime Fermate. Next Stops. Prossima Fermata Bologna! Next Stop Bologna. Siamo in arriva a Bologna. We have arrived in Bologna. Non fumate nell’ ambiente. I think they meant don’t smoke in the bathrooms. What I heard in English was “Don’t smoke int he ambiences.” Now, I thought I had a fairly decent vocabulary but didn’t have a clue as to what a space called ambience was. Maybe it is a British thing. I texted my talented Niece, Alex, who went to university in London and asked her. “What is an ambience?” We both laughed out loud. Don’t smoke in the atmosphere. Don’t smoke in the feeling. Don’t smoke in the …. The giggling kept me occupied all the way to Benevento. Il treno e in orario. The train is on time. Grazie per aver scelto italo. Thank you for choosing Italo. Arrivederci. See ya!
A shout out of thanks to my publisher, Read Furiously, for promoting my interview! Thank you for reading what I write – if you want to know more about me why not check out Episode 165!
When life hands you lemons – or the Pandemic closes your hotel – make lemonade. NOT. The ever creative and entrepreneurial owners of our favorite Milanese B&B, Il Girasole Milano, Nicola and Matteo Negruzzi understood that people around the world were feeling crappy. Hmmm…. In case you didn’t know, the name of their wine that grew out of the Pandemic is a vulgar Italian idiomatic expression – essentially meaning “fuck off” or “up your butt.” It is also a wine that sold rapidly during the two plus years that Covid had as all feeling – well – gulp – fucked and continues to sell today.
Nicola Negruzzi told me the story –
It was the end of November, 2020 and they got a call from a very good friend who was having a very bad year. A disabled child, the pandemic, Milan closed up tight and – well you went through it and you understand. At the end of the call, she said to Nicola, “you don’t know how many vaffanculos I have to say a day.” To make her laugh, Nicola designed a label for a sparkling Trebbiano wine from Abruzzo. He took a picture, sent it to her and said, “Come here, we drink this wine and say vaffanculo together.” It was just a joke – join the rest of us and raise a glass while screaming “vaffanculo!” Their friend not only laughed, she ordered a case. Nicola and Matteo realized they might be on to something that could save their souls. They asked a friend to design a professional label, ordered a bunch of wine from a vineyard in Abruzzo, attached wooden baskets to their bicycles and started creating an old fashioned huckster promotional buzz. They pedaled around Milan looking for groups of masked up, glum looking people. Imagine the surprise and cheers when two men carrying bottles of Vaffanculo Wine, stopped and offered glasses accompanied by the very cheerful, but vulgar, toast. The wine took off like rockets. The timing, creativity and energy of the brothers is a marketing case study.
Taking the project even further, they got the permits to turn their empty hotel into a bar open just for apertivo. Matteo took mixology courses and started creating signature drinks. Together they created a menu of interesting stuzzichini, canapès.
They papered the neighborhood with fliers announcing the opening of “The Garden.” I was shocked when we came to the B&B to see their old parking lot festooned with trees and shrubs in enormous pots. They created spatial social distancing islands of tables surrounded by plants.
From 5:30 PM until 10:00 PM locals visit the Garden to snack, gossip and drink. The featured wine – Vaffanculo. Imagine someone coming to the bar for the first time hearing customers shout, “Matteo, Vaffanculo per due.”
Yes, I did. You know I did. I bought a case and shipped it home to Pontelandolfo.
Here is some exciting Midge News! I was a featured guest on the theatre podcast, OnStage, OffStage. Interviewed by George Sapio, I had a great time. Actually, when I heard it for the first time, I cried. I sounded like a real writer! Who knew that my pandemic lemonade would be getting a book and five plays published! Listen to the podcast and hear all about it.
Oooo, the little demon in my brain is bellowing in my ear – WINTER VACATION??? Cripes, your whole life is one big vacation – you spend months in Italy, bum around Europe and hang out with New Jersey pals.
What can I say, Jack and I have “third act” wanderlust. We also have dear friends – former Asbury Park, NJ pals – who ditched New Jersey for a life in Ecuador. Marie and Jan were our travel buddies for more than ??XX?? years and we love to let them find adventures for us. It is our great joy that they are expats living in Ecuador. It is their great joy that we live in Italy. Do you get the picture? Three years ago, Jan and Marie stayed with us in Pontelandolfo and helped me celebrate my big 70th birthday. Three years have gone by and now it is our turn to celebrate life in general at their home in the mountain outside of Ambato, Ecuador.
LESSONS LEARNED
Lesson 1: You don’t always get what you pay for. We bought United Airlines First class and Business Class tickets. Don’t ask me why each arduous leg of the flight had two diverse class status’s tickets. The first leg was to Houston. The plane configuration was not the Polaris class that we have enjoyed flying to Europe and our seating area was filthy. I always bring alcohol wipes and I was wiping food and crumbs off the seats, tray table, pocket, everything. Where the heck is the foot rest? Is the seat in front of me falling apart? Are Jack’s knees touching the seat back in front of him in Business Class? This reminded me of flights we have taken on the old cheap Norwegian Air recycled planes. Oh, and the staff was barely interested. Eucch, dirty, uncomfortable and ignored. The second leg, Houston to Quito, had a clean plane and wonderful staff. The seats were certainly not anything special, didn’t have foot rests and the control for the in flight entertainment was under my butt. Both flights used Dish TV as the inflight entertainment. Movies started at a specific time, the lackadaisical crew from Newark never gave out headsets until the films had started. I must admit, the United Lounge was a great place to hang during our four hour and forty minute layover. But is the lounge worth the high price for the tickets?
Midge, why did you buy the seats that cost a un sacco di soldi? Are you loaded. Did your book, Cars, Castles, Cows and Chaos, sell a million copies. None of the above, but a great book or play sale would make me smile. We fly in the high price seats because my glorious butt is too gloriously large to squeeze into a coach seat. Yes, I am on a diet. Yes, I am attempting to remember to excersize it off. Meanwhile, gulp, I cough up the cash for big seats in a freaking dirty plane. Glad I brought those wipes along! Sad, we spent all that cash for seats and service that was nothing like the super seats and service we get on United when we soar across the Atlantic to Rome.
Lesson 2: A lot of things in Ecuador remind me of Italy. A. Quito sits high in the Andean Foothills at an altitude of 2,850 meters. Ambato is a wee bit lower on the hill at 2,577 meters above sea level. These are mountain towns, with curves and cliffs that scare the pants off of me. Just like driving in the Italian Sannio hills – only higher. B. They have universal health care, just like Italy. Actually, they have reciprocity with Italy and our Tessera Sanitaria, health insurance would have been accepted. C. We loved looking at all the elementary school children going to school in uniforms. They weren’t the same as the ones in Pontelandolfo but the idea was the same.
Even the little yellow bus with a driver and an aide reminded me of Pontelandolfo
D. Bella Vista! The verdant green mountains, forests, mountain peaks and glacier topped volcanoes are glorious to see in both countries. E. One of the wonders of Pontelandolfo are the huge white dairy cows that summer in the mountains. The contadini travel up the the mountain and milk the cows right where our bovine friends are enjoying the mountain grasses. We were driving and noticed people on stools milking the cows living in the hills between Quito and Ambato too. F. Road and village lawn maintenance is done by tethered cows, goats, pigs and horses! A Pontelandolfo sight that gives me the giggles!
Goats keeping the grass cut in Piazza Roma, Pontelandolfo
G. Wonderful historic architecture juxtaposed with modern buildings, reminded me of many Italian cities. The styles were similar to what we see in Benevento. H. Just like Italy, even the smallest villages have a plaza/piazza! Check out the fresh flowers around the fountain.
Lesson 3: Things I wish both Italy and the USA had.A. Clean bathrooms open to the public in every Ecuadorian gas station. What a brilliant idea! Want to build a gas station? Sure, but you must provide all travelers access to a clean and modern bathroom! We tried more than one and it is a great idea. You might have to spend 10 cents at the toilet paper machine and/or pay the person who cleans a quarter but that is a cheap fix for the “I’ve got to go now” traveler. B. Plug in charging stations can be found in parking lots all over towns. Electric cars in a country rich in oil – imagine that! C. Voting is quasi mandatory. If you don’t vote you will not be able to renew your car’s registration or access any other government related services. Elections are on Sundays too! Italy has elections on Sunday but they don’t make voting mandatory for existing within the framework of government bureaucracy. Ecuador consistently has over 80 percent voter turnout. E. Senior Discounts that are incredible. 50% off all transportation, including airline flights that originate in Ecuador! 50% off all land line telephone services. Senior lines in all banks and offices that are absolutely honored.
Clean bathrooms where ever gas is sold! Speaking of gas – electric charging stations. (They don’t offer bathrooms.)
Lessons learned! Winter, spring, summer or fall travel is a great way to learn new things and appreciate the things that you have. I learned a lot from my winter vacation in Ecuador. Thank you Marie and Jan for being our grasshopper pals of yore, generous hosts and adventurers of today.
I’ve often said, one of the advantages to living in Pontelandolfo is that we can hop around fairly inexpensively to visit other European cities. During one rainy week, four of us hopped over to Amsterdamfor a taxing good/bad time.
Like foxes sniffing for prey – taxi drivers roam the streets of Amsterdam looking for wet and bedraggled tourists to gouge. When we landed, the fox phone chain must have been rattling. The foxes didn’t have far to look for new soggy chickens to fleece! Our happy or maybe crazy foursome went out in wind, rain and hail. Ten minutes after leaving point A to get to point B, we looked like dripping shaggy dogs. The foxes pounced-
“Growl, there are four good ones,” drooled the first driver we met. “The white haired guy looks old and about to faint. Errrr, and look at that chubby momma flagging me down. She can barely waddle in the rain. The other two, with hair plastered down, look ready to cry. Hee, hee hee. Yumm.”
Ann Frank Museum visitors que up in the rain.
It was pouring when we left Amsterdam’s Ann Frank Museum. My little party of four was soaked and starting to wrinkle. Sadly, I didn’t see the driver’s drool and flagged the fox’s cab. It stopped. We started to get in and told him the name of our hotel.
€30, he snickered.
What???!!! We had paid the cab to get to the museum only €17. He looked at me. I looked at him. Susi, my friend sputtered, that isn’t just. We all looked at the rain, and sunk into our seats. No tip was getting into his greedy little paws.
After that scurrilous experience you would think we would have learned something. Noooo! We took a fun, yet rain and hail filled, canal boat tour. Seriously, the rain and hail made me feel like a native. We were toasty dry on the boat and laughing at the sounds above us. Then we got off the boat. Merde. It took thirty seconds for the rain to fill our shoes, pockets, hair and drench our coats. We clambered up the metal stairs to the dock and headed for the street. Susi raced ahead and starting talking to a cab drive. We all piled in. The hotel was about eight blocks away. We could see it. If we were nimble youths we would have run. We aren’t nimble or young. We asked the driver if he was going to use the meter.
It’s raining – you want a ride – €30.
Not a sputter came out of our blue and freezing lips. We paid the €30. It must be the official rain on tourists price.
I noted the similarity between the fair and honest taxi drivers of Naples and the fair and honest taxi drivers of Amsterdam. The honest folks clicked on their meters. The price gougers didn’t. The honest ones played by all the rules. Once, the four of us attempted to jump the cab line to enter the second and bigger vehicle in the cue. The noble driver of the second car wouldn’t accept us as customers and sent us back to the first car. Whoever was first in line was to be our driver – no matter how tight a fit it was for four people.
The foxes are always ready to take a bite out of your wallet. In Amsterdam, the unmetered prices versus metered prices fluctuated between thirty to fifty percent more. Some times even the metered fairs varied coming and going too. How could that be, we would bellow. Then one of us would point out that we seemed to have driven in a circle two or three times.
Hmm, has that ever happened in Naples? Until we knew better, Jack and I had been fleeced from the Naples train station to our hotel in the center of town. A tourist, or person who looks like a tourist, needs to beware. Drivers have said things like, your suitcase is big – that costs more. There is a special charge for blah blah blah. Look at the posted price sheets. There should be posted fixed prices in every cab. Amsterdam didn’t seem to have prices posted. Actually, they didn’t have cab licenses posted in the cars either. One time, after we got in, the driver took the sign that said taxi off his roof and tossed in on the front seat floor. He didn’t use the meter either. He had lots of reasons.
One way streets. Construction. Rain. I can tell you about the city. Beh.
Researching after the fact is like being a Monday morning quarterback. As I was writing this rant, I thought I should check with the experts. According to http://www.amsterdamtips.com/amsterdam-taxis –
Taxi Rates in Amsterdam 2022
The cost of a taxi in Amsterdam depends on 3 elements – a starting tariff, a cost per km and a cost per minute which is all calculated by the compulsory meter in the vehicle. The maximum allowable rates are as follows:
Taxi car (4 people): €3.36 start tariff + €2.47 price per km + €0.41 price per minute
Taxi van/bus (5-8 people): €6.83 start tariff + €3.11 price per km + €0.46 price per minute.
Reading that, I began to understand why some drivers took the longest routes. I also read that you didn’t have to tip the drivers – except maybe the change. Sadly, not wanting to be ugly tourists we asked our first driver what the tipping standards in the Netherlands were. He said 10-15% but not mandatory. Duhhhhh. Silly girl, next time I should reasearch before we go anywhere. But why should I have to? Why can’t every driver be like the fair and honest drivers? Sigh…
Happy traveling! Enjoy every voyage – even if it rains.
Jack and I came home to Pontelandolfo to find a bag of scrumptious fava beans on our door step. Our neighbor, Lina, had left them for us. (You’ve heard me talk about the ever growing and traveling fava bean before. Click if you haven’t.) The beans themselves are nestled in a furry lined pod. I sat down to clean them and realized I was “unmasking” the hidden delights.
As I unmasked the raw beans, I saw each little bean as a person who had been safely ensconced and came home to me unharmed. On May 4th, we arrived in Italy from the unmasked state of New Jersey. Frankly, since Covid was still active, I never felt particularly safe with the unmasking edict. Prior to boarding our flight to Rome, I was thrilled to read that Italy still had some stringent masking travel rules in place. The FFP2 masks remain mandatory on airplanes – as well as other methods of travel. (FFP2 is similar to N95 or KN95 masks.). Every passenger on our United Flight should have read all the Covid rules and regulations.
Of course, there is always someone who doesn’t read, doesn’t care or obviously knows better and can be a pain in the butt about it. “Why do I have to put on a mask?” shrieked the woman boarding the plane a few people behind me. The United employee at the gate was very calm and tried to explain that it was a rule. The loud mouth continued screaming, “we don’t have to wear masks anymore – didn’t you get the message?”
You who know me, know what is coming. I couldn’t bear it another nanosecond and pulling my school administrator stop the riot voice of authority out of my ass turned and bellowed – “It is an Italian law. We are taking a plane to Italy and Italian law supersedes whatever it is you are talking about.” Jack grabbed my arm and pulled me forward.
I mean what is the big deal about a mask? Since we arrived in Pontelandolfo, we have been surrounded by masks. The day we got here, after a short nap – OK from noon until 7:30 PM – we tossed on some clothes and went to dinner at our favorite seafood restaurant, Sesto Senso. Everyone working there was wearing a mask. Patrons wore masks until they got beverages. Tables were more that ten feet apart. No one complained. Masks in the grocery store, masks in the pharmacy, masks at the butchers, masks anywhere groups of people were congregating and no one was bitching.
Back to the fava beans. The little pods protect the beans until they are big, strong and scrumptious. I enjoy being protected by my mask and look forward to the end of Covid and being strong and scrumptious too.
For the past ten years, many of you have been with me on my journey as a Jersey girl living in Pontelandolfo. My second – or is it third – act as a quasi expat in a small Southern Italian village has been filled with unexpected life detours. Your support of my blog was the kick in the keister I needed to write a book about these Italian adventures. Gulp – the book is being published by independent press, Read Furiously! It even has an ISBN number – it is the freakin’ real deal. Wowza!
I cried when I saw this. Alex said it is like preparing for a Broadway opening – we are in previews!
In these most unpredictable times, a fantastic get away is just at your finger tips! Sip a prosecco, sit in a cozy chair and read about places that you are not only visiting through my book, but can someday experience yourself. Giggle at the illustrations drawn by my best bud Janet Cantore Watson.
Pre-ording the book insures a copy lands in your mailbox at the same time it hits the book stores. All of you have always been here with me. As I think about you now reading my book, my heart fills with emotion. Thank you.
On a recent snowy night, I hunkered down to clean out a dusty over stuffed plastic tub. You know the kind – large, filled with files and memoribillia you will get to some day, covered with a snap on lid and left to fade in the back of a closet. I opened the tub, pulled out a batch of files when a folded cache of browning papers fell into my lap. Was it very old love notes from a high school beau? Or recipes in my beloved zia’s hand. Giggle, I slowly unfolded the cracked paper and saw the date – January 2009. Wow, it was a love note of sorts, my notes on an earlier trip to Alghero, Sardegna and Italian lessons at the fabulous Centro Mediterraneo Pintadera. Walk with me back to January, 2009 and take an armchair voyage.
We were excited to be heading back to Alghero. Never having been there in the winter we didn’t know what to expect. The city juts out into the sea. Walking the sea wall in the summer is bliss. Will it bluster in January?
It did not bluster! I wore a coat but Jack did his daily walk in the noonday sun in only a sweatshirt.
On Saturday, January 3, 2009 – courtesy of air miles we flew Primo Classe on Alitalia from Newark to Rome. (In those days there were flights out of Newark, New Jersey.) I still use the little grey tweed makeup bags they gave us filled with mini stuff that I probably tossed. .
On Sunday, January 4, tired and still tipsy from all that Primo Classe booze we lugged our suitcases across the terminal to our jumper flight to Sardegna. We had an uneventful but cramped Air One flight to Alghero. (They went out of business in 2014.) A 25€ cab ride organized by Pintadera brought us directly to the apartment they had found for us. Pintadera co-owner, Nicola, met us with keys in hand. I looked at the steep staircase from the street leading up to the apartment, muttered bad words and lugged my suitcase up. Gasping for breath I walked in and saw the sea. The steps were worth it. Wow, we have an apartment with an ocean view. The terrace was tiny but a terrace. There was a twin bed with pillows in the front room, a chair or two, table and a kitchenette. The bedroom had a king-sized bed. For the amount of time we planned on staying there it was perfect.
Bella Vista from or terrace!
I love Pintadera. This was our second trip to the school. We are so taken with the place and people, that I had organized a group of Italian language students from New Jersey to join us this time. Starting Monday, January 5, we had classes daily from 9:00 AM to 1:00 PM. The weather was perfect. Staring at the sea, sipping a cappuccino at a bar with a view was heavenly. January in Alghero means very few tourists, sales in the stores and lots of sun.
Every day at 11:OO AM class took a caffè break. This is January – note the sun, smiles and me squinting.
Jack is always teachers pet.
The queen of not doing enough research and just diving into travel, I really lucked out. The first week in January, Alghero was transformed into a cultural Mecca. We had no idea how important Epiphany was nor how involved the arts community would be. That Monday, after class we strolled the tiny cobble stone streets and alleys following the sounds of carolers. Sparkling arches of holiday lights topped the throngs out for a pre-epiphany passegiata. Itinerant volunteer actors dressed like La Befana or the three Kings could be found in every small piazza dispensing nuts and fruit to every child. Even us kids in our second acts!
The whole city came out on January 5th and 6th – Epihany – waiting for La Befana, (The gift giving strega.)
Piazza Teatro lived up to its name. A troupe of wheelchair assisted and developmentally challenged actors costumed beautifully portrayed the manger scene. The love pouring out from every actor filled the piazza and my heart. Their focus and passion for the nativity brought the scene to life.
Every one visits the new born baby. This is a fraction of the actors. I bet there were twenty.
After a scrumptious dinner of roasted calamari and l’insalata at a nameless little spot we followed the sounds of six part harmony. Angelic male voices filled the air from Piazza Civica. The crowed surged there. It felt and sounded like there were hundreds of men dressed in black with white collared shirts singing in intricate harmonies. Traditional Sardo and spiritual songs wafted over the crowd as we trailed the singers from piazza to piazza. Choiristers sang a rousing march as they moved from spot to spot. I never found out if all of these musical artists were from Alghero.
A phenomenal men’s choir serenades us.
La Befanas scampered about clutching brooms and tossing sweets at children. The the night before Epiphany, La Befana traditionally flies from house to house bringing candy to good children and carbone, coal, to evil monsters. Besides engaging with the crowds La Befana was also plastered on doors or hanging from lamp posts. (The universe must be kicking me. I just had finished yet another rewrite of my play “Mamma Mia – La Befana!??” when I found this picture. Hmm – time to start pitching that work???)
La Befana, the gift giving witch, is a symbol of Epiphany.
Often, other amateur actors appeared dressed as angels or in traditional Sardegna garb to entertain with stories, dance and pageantry. Music and art was everywhere.
Folklorico Dancers shook the cobblestones. In 2009 I wrote, “Hey USA how about a little more public art?”
After class one day, I saw a sign for a children’s theatre performance at Alghero’s opera house, Teatro Civica di Alghero. Built in 1829, the space is amazing. Think a jewel box version of Carnegie Hall with draped box seats surrounding the house. It is unique because it is the only Italian theater built entirely of wood. Lavish is an understatement. We ventured in and sat down in our box excited to see our first performance in Italy. It was the worst children’s theatre I have ever experienced in my life. Disclaimer, in the 1970s I was the director of a touring children’s theater company so I kind of know what works and what doesn’t. Here are just some of the reasons it was abysmal – for the first fifteen minutes the star – a middle aged curly haired sprightly woman stood on stage directing traffic to seats. Then the curtain opens – late of course – on an amateur cardboard set. Add to that bad lighting and a shared microphone and you have all the stuff you need for failure. I love audience participation and pre -show warm ups but this crew did a warm-up that lasted an hour. Then there was a brief pause and the scripted piece began and went on and on and on. The show started at 5:00 PM. We snuck out with many others at 7:00 PM and the show was still going on. Do I sound snarky? I love theater and it pains me to have troupes produce less than professional work for children. That said, seeing the interior of Teatro Civica was worth the distraction.
Who are the divas in the box???? We didn’t know the women we shared the box with but loved their fur coats.
Early Wednesday mornings I took an early morning jaunt to the covered market. This market is classic. One whole section is just stall after stall of fish vendors. Sardegna is an island and Alghero sits right on the sea – perfect location for the freshest of fish. Fruit and vegetable stalls, ready-made treats and more filled the space. I love wandering the aisles and discovering what I will be cooking.
Tuna anyone?
Ovella Negra just a staircase away from our apartment.
I love this city! We also loved the wine and local cheese plates we enjoyed in Ovella Negra, the grotto like bar below the apartment. (We have been back to Alghero many times since and sadly, this bar is no longer there.). The owner was a real foodie. He only served local fare and treated us like visiting royalty. During our two week stay, we did go there almost every single day so I could see why they treated us well. This particular night, I must have had an orgasmic food experience – why else would I have written down every morsel. We tend to share lots of small plates – think tapas style. First, he served us a fresh, unsalted goat cheese that was so light and creamy it must have been made by angels. With that, of course we had Cardegna, a dry white wine. Next, some room temperature small plates to warm ones heart of dried tuna and sword fish. Yup, caught off the coast. We tasted bottarga, Sardinian cured fish roe, for the first time. Now, we are bottarga junkies. Bottarga is cured, air-dried roe from flathead mullets and is a Sardinian staple. After dinner, we were given a glass of Mirto – a local digestivo. It is the national drink of Sardegna and made by infusing alcohol with fresh myrtle berries. Most nights we staggered up the stairs to our apartment. The stairs seem easier when I stagger.
Saturday, January 10th we took the train to Sassari. The train ticket was 3.80€ roundtrip. It was a twenty-minute walk to the train station from our center city apartment. The ancient train meandered through a valley and we were surrounded by mountains. Sheep, sheepdogs and olive groves completed the picture. They city of Sassari was reminiscent of any neighborhood in any major Italian city. Cobble stone streets, buildings that were built during the middle ages and – of course – one of the finest restaurants on the island. We had the best grilled calamari ever at the Trattoria Gesuino. Seriously, the best ever! So very tender – I can still taste it. We visited the Museo Nazionale “Giovanni Antonio Sanna.” This archeological museum was chock full of great finds – including glass from 200 BC. We will go back someday.
We hopped the Train to Sassari and visited the museum. That will be 2 euro please.
Every great day takes longer than you think. Gulp, we missed the last train back. Thanks to that snafu we experienced even more of the island on the bus. The bus was 3€ – bella vista – we saw hills, small towns and more sheep. No wonder the local cheese is so fantastic! The bus meandered through villages the train passed by. We were dropped off in the park by the city wall. It was a shorter walk back to the apartment. Which of course we didn’t enter, going down to the bar instead.
Life in Alghero for educational tourists like us is magical. We didn’t know what to expect in January – except cheaper prices – and were happily surprised by the temperature, holiday culture and the food. Since I kept that journal in 2009, we have been back to Pintadera at least four additional times. We love the sea, the food, the people and of course Centro Mediterraneo Pintadera. We will return – perhaps we will see you there too.
Many of us are stuck in our homes thinking of all the places in the world we’d like to visit. Why not take an armchair tour of Venice with my favorite detective, Commissario Guido Brunetti. The fictional Italian detective, is a commissario in the Italian State Police, stationed in Venice. He is proud to be a native Venetian. The creation of Donna Leon, Brunetti becomes our eyes and ears in Venice. His wife, children, family life, upper class in-laws, obnoxious boss and the other detectives all become part of our tour. We peek into the worlds of Counts and Countesses, immigrants, Venetian middle class and the very poor. What I love about Leon’s books is the way they draw me into the social, political and historic fabric of the city, and region. With Brunetti, we hop on a traghetto (think bus in the water), a police boat, sometimes even a car, but most often on foot to wend our way through canals and neighborhoods tourists don’t see.
And then the air was just as suddenly filled with the sweetness of springtime and buds and new leaves, fresh grass and nature’s giggly joy at coming back for another show
As they turned into the broad stereet, Brunetti saw evidence in support of his belief that this was one of the few areas of the city still filled primarily with Venetians. It was enough to see the beige woollen cardiagans and short carefully permed hair to know the older women were Venetian; those children with their skateboards were not there on vacation; and most foreign men did not stand so close to one another during aconversation. The shops, too, sold things that would be used in the city where they were purchased, not wrapped up and taken home to be shown off as some sort of prized acquisition, like a deer hunted and shot and tied to the top of a car.
“By Its Cover” 2014
The Venetian inspector also editorializes on the not so positive transitions that have occurred in Venice over the past fifty or so years. He often speaks of the changes that all of us who have been fortunate to visit Venice over the decades have seen. The enormous cruise ships that displace tons of water and toss thousands of back pack smashing tourists all at once onto the island. Like whirling dervish they twist and twirl over bridges. Made in China faux Venetian glass, masks and more have taken over bakeries, butcher shops and vegetable stands.
Brunetti — I had the good fortune to grow up in a different Venice, not this stage set that’s been created for tourists … Venetian families, especially young ones, are driven out because they cannot afford to rent or buy a home.
“Earthly Remains” 2017
Picking up travel and life hints while binge reading Brunetti is also a great way to plan your next visit to Italy. There are so many food references that fans demanded and were rewarded with the Brunetti’s Cook Book.
The first time I had a prescription filled in our villages local pharmacy I was mesmerized watching the farmacista peel and stick labels from boxes. Leon’s accurate description of the action had me smiling. There are many more bits and pieces of everyday Italian life sprinkled in the books.
She took the boxes, peeled off stamps from the backs, and pasted them on to the prescriptions the woman gave her. Then she ran the prescriptions over the sensor plate next to the cash register, put the boxes in a plastic bag, and accepted a twenty-Euro note in payment. She rang up the sale and returned the woman’s change, added the receipt, thanked her, and wished her a pleasant eventing.
“Temptation of Forgiveness,” 2018
Take a walk with Donna Leon’s Brunetti and become a part of Venetian life. Just be wary when and where you walk. Once we were trying to get over the Rialto Bridge and cross the Grand Canal. A wild large tourist group of where could they be going in such a hurry, came galloping over the bridge. Jack and I clung to the sides. No, even though I thought it, I didn’t stick out my foot.
Brunetti’s first response, given that it was a warm day in early spring, had been to calculate the easiest way to walk from the Questura to the Palazzo without becoming entrapped in the by now normal migration paths of the herds of tourists. Because of the clear sky and benevolent temperature, walking hip Riva Degli Schiavoni would be impossible, crossing Piazza San Marco an act of madness.
Brunetti walked home quickly, paying almost no attention to what or whom he passed, deaf to the sound of the returning birds, the only tourists no one resented.
“Upon Us a Son Is Given,” 2019
Donna Leon is incredibly prolific. I think there are twenty-nine Brunetti novels. But there may be a new one coming soon. She is my literary work ethic idol. Besides the cook book there are television shows, a Brunetti walking tour, even stories with music! But hey – she IS a Jersey girl! Born in Montclair, New Jersey, she lived and worked in Venice for over thirty years. Her Commissario Brunetti series has won countless awards. I would love to award her the Midge’s Favorite Author of All Things Venetian award. Would it be stalking if I just sat outside her house and stared???
“Trace Elements” is the latest book. I can’t wait to get mine and see where Brunetti goes next. Why not pour a glass of Prosecco and visit Venice with Guido Brunetti. You will be so happy you did.
Nonna's Mulberry Tree 