Albergo – Il Girasole a Milano

Hmm – should I take a picture of Jack napping in our comfortable room at Il Girasole in Milan?  Nah, that would be nasty – and you my readers know that I am never nasty. Besides, surrounded by the warmth and love that emanates from every inch of Il Girasole  it would be impossible to think a nasty thought.  In the city of Milan, the Negruzzi family has created and warm and winsome atmosphere .  The three star hotel is a short subway ride to the historic and arts filled center of the city.  What I appreciate is that it is in a neighborhood where we felt like cittadini di Milano – not tourists.

When our taxi pulled up to the industrial looking portone of the exterior, Jack and I looked at each other.  My  cousin Rich and his wife Lynn had recommended the place so we knew it had to be OK – but the big metal gate???  We rang the bell and all of our concerns were swept away by the effusive smiles, laughter and bubbling personalities of Matteo and Nicola – the two brothers who manage the family business.  Nicola schlepped our 4 huge suitcases up to our room while we enjoyed a prosecco and conversation with Matteo.  (Yes you read that right – 4 large suitcases – we are here for 7 months.  Most of the stuff was Jack’s.)  Matteo whipped out maps for us, and in perfect English gave us restaurant hints and immediately made us feel comfortable with where we were.


Matteo threatened to put Jack to work!

Our room was large – by European urban standards – and had a desk, couch, armoire and large bathroom.  It costs us €303 for three nights and included a continental breakfast. I loved the smiley faces on the cappuccino.  The hotel has free wi-fi that worked quickly everywhere – including outside in the small garden.  There is parking and a meeting room.

The first night we took Matteo’s advice on a restaurant, Vineria San Giovanniand came back to peels of laughter bursting up from the breakfast room.  Never one to miss a party, I dragged Jack down the steps and discovered three men and Nicola swapping tales.  (He speaks English, Spanish, Italian and is studying Chinese.) Nicola  promptly poured us each a beer and we joined the party.  The three guests were regulars.  They worked for an international company – one was from Taiwan, another Hong Kong and the third a Chinese American.  We prattled on about politics, food, fun and I felt like I had known them forever.  That is what Il Girasole does to you!

One morning I asked Matteo to tell me how the hotel came to be.  The building was originally a bicycle factory.  His mother, Bianca, and brother Nicola started the business in 1998 as a B&B.  The original space only had 3 rooms.  As they continued the renovations, they opened for guests .  Their first international guests were from the USA and stayed for three months.  The family relocated for the dad’s business – he worked in radio and actually got the B&B a month of free spots!  They are all still friends.  The hotel now has 16 rooms and three star hotel status!  Bravo.

The brothers grew up in a “culture of responsibility.”  Bianca was a community organizer who – through a not for profit agency – spear headed local projects. The family feels that their home is the entire city and that means they have a responsibility to help solve the city’s issues.  Nicola is currently president of the parent organization of the public school and organizes fund raising events.

It was joyous to hear Matteo tell me about his city, his family and the passion they all have for the hotel. Even their website is steeped in sunflower good cheer.

Il Girasole  – Via Doberdò, 19, 20126 Milano,

A sunny spot of home in a big city.

Ci vediamo!


On The Road Again!


Once again, Tony and Jack load the bags and we head to JFK Airport!

The bags were packed – mine stuffed with art to hang on the walls and fabric for Rosa, Pontelandolfo’s great seamstress, to make me cute outfits with.  Jack’s stuffed with new clothes – he is such a cute clothes horse.  My carry on carries all things related to my Mac Book Air.  Cousin Maryellen ran around the house making sure we didn’t leave anything behind.  We had passports, tickets – we are set to hit the highway and fly on home to Pontelandolfo.

Thanks to my nimble Godson, Tony, the ride to JFK was swift and chatty.  We were shocked to see that there wasn’t a line at the Emirate’s Air check in desk.  We checked in – our overweight bags were miraculously not overweight.  Then the clerk said, “enjoy your 4 hours.”  What!!!!  The flight leaves at 7:20 PM.  “No, the check in time was 7:20 – the flight leaves at 10:20PM.”  But, but it is only 5:00 PM!!!!  Well so much for good planning – who read that e-ticket????  We headed to the TSA clearance center to the gates.  I’m glad we got there four hours early – we needed the time.

I’m not one to whine – well maybe just a little –  but 55 minutes in the TSA line at JFK is a real whine, whine, whine! Moms with baby carriages, ladies holding babies, elderly people stooped with the strain of carryons – all marching slowly in circuitous paths.  Step by slow step we moved in one direction, only to be turned around and headed back from whence we came.   The only people that could avoid the 55 minute wait were the .05%  with first-class tickets. Stop bitching Midge -it is not a class issue – just a ticket issue. Sensitivity to the elderly and the woman carrying two kids would have been nice.  They literally had us go the entire length of the huge space in one direction and back four times and then do it again. What great fun. Reminded me not to come to Terminal Four at JFK.

After wending our way back and forth, fourth and back, back and forth, fourth and back, we got to the place where one takes off one’s coat, unpacks ones computer, ones iPad, ones anything metal etc.  I absolutely support this process.  It is better – as they say – to be safe than sorry.  In today’s world, we accept the challenge of travel and appreciate the oversight.  As I was accepting and happy to comply, I watched all of my goods going through the x-ray machine  and walked towards the door-frame like scanner.  Suddenly, I was told to go into another line for a different kind of full body x-ray. I didn’t mind the full body x-ray. I rather liked the patdown. Especially when she was fondling my breasts. I didn’t like seeing my purse, computer, IPad and briefcase laden with my good jewelry sitting about fifteen feet away from where I was. I never think about anyone mugging me or in any way doing all those things that people tell me I should worry about.  BUT – I was carrying  – rather my briefcase was housing – all the euros to pay the May Cooks in Pontelandolfo group expenses.  F#$%! There was no way they would stop patting me down so I could get to my stuff – I was able to turn around and at least see it.  Those of you who know the volume and rancor that my voice can take know that I would be able to thwart any evil doer with my not so dulcet tones. Putdown over I ran to my stuff.

Next stop, Terminal Four’s Tigín Irish pub. Rock and roll, starting with Michael jack son’s Thriller, called us to the pub and perked me up. Since we didn’t board for hours, a slow snack, Guinness and chair dancing to groovy sounds was in order. Perfectly poured Guinness – I might add – the glass rested partially full and then there was a second pour with a perfect head. OK – I belched at the airport prices.  Gulp, it cost over $100 for two Chardonnays one beer, hummus  and veggie platter, a grilled chicken, pear and fresh greens yummy salad and a chicken cheese bacon sandwhich.   Ouch, I want to get to Pontelandolfo where a pensioner can afford the prices.

Last year, you will recall we flew Emirates – cheaply upgraded to business class – ahhhhhh.  This year we tried coach.  The seats were big enough for my substantive butt and there was enough legroom for Jack.  That was a good sign.  The wi-fi surprised me!  Who knew you could have wi-fi in the air and not screw up the automatic pilot. It was 10:30PM and I sure as hell didn’t want dinner – I wanted sleep – wait what is that scrumptious odor?  Yes, I’ll have the chicken thank you.  My little tray sported real flatware – no cheesy pack of plastic.  Wine?  Of course, thank you.  The food was nothing to rave about but wasn’t anything to complain about either.  I think the aisle was a wee bit wider too – easier to walk about – and the giant plane was divided into sections with each section having a large walkable space fore and aft. Sounds like a good flight – right – ehhh – it was still coach.  No foot rest.  No flat down to a bed seat.  No little kit with ear plugs, mask, creams and presents.  Still coach…

Ci vediamo dopo.  Time to take a snooze in Milano.

Biennale Arte di Venezia


On the Vaporetto to the Giardini and the Biennale!

We were excited to attend La Biennale di Venezia.  The 56th International Art Exhibition ran from  May 9th to November 22nd 2015.  Visiting Venice years ago, we had strolled through the Giardini, looked at empty buildings that every two years are filled with art and vowed to return.  Each country that participates in the Biennale has it’s own building to fill or we discovered – to barely fill  – with representative art of their country.  The exhibition takes place not only at the Giardini but also the Arsenale and in various locations across the city of Venice.


Curated by Okwui Enwezor, this year’s event got a scathing review in Art News.  Not to be put off by one person’s point of view and because we never do what we are told, Jack and I booked our train tickets and headed to Venice.

Our Cittidini Anziani – old people – tickets cost of €20 and were good for exploring both artsy sites – Giardini and the Arsenale.  The space is open and easy to navigate.  We strolled from pavilion to pavilion.  It was incredibly interesting to see the stylistic differences between artists and the types of art that were chosen by each country.  It was also interesting to look around and note that probably most of the 501,502 visitors and over 8,000 journalists that the exhibit attracted were our age.

One exhibit that the arts administrator in me found really enlightening was a giant space featuring blow ups of audience surveys from famous museums.  The surveys went back to the 1800s and asked many of the same demographic questions that we ask today.  Current exhibition viewers could sit with an iPad and take the Biennale survey.  As I did that, my answers immediately changed the results by 1 and were projected.  Most of the visitors to the Biennale have an advanced degree!  That bothered me – was it because only people with advanced degrees can afford to go to Venice?  There were young people interspersed among the baby boomers – were they all in graduate programs?  Hmmmm.

Jack and I love to go to museums and galleries.  We appreciate art of all types and eras.  That said – oh you know what is coming – she is going to say something bitchy about someone.  Who picks the American Artist?  I won’t say her name because she might be someone I got drunk with in the 60’s – actually her art reminded me of the crap some of my friends handed in to their art teachers in the 60’s.  The exterior of the American Pavillon could use a touch of paint and maintenance.  We entered through a side door held open by a fire extinguisher – charming.  The darkened interior sported a variety of screens all featuring the same film.  Two young girls dressed like  Isadora Duncan’s Isadorables scampered about, beat on a wooden log with sticks and generally didn’t do anything interesting.  Hung on the walls were props from the films, repeated repeated repeated prints and – oh I really can’t even talk about it.  With all the artists in the United States WHY THIS STUFF?

I did a little research and figured it out!  The artist teaches at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and guess who curated the American Pavillon?  Good guess – MIT!!!!  They must have a “sacco di soldi” or access to the big list of sponsors that put up the cash for this trash.  Oops – I didn’t mean to make a disparaging comment.

Here’s a short video of just some of the exhibition halls we visited.  We intend to go again.  We had a great time – even if we did snicker at some of the art. Enjoy.

Ci Vediamo!

Terminal 1 – Roma

  • Happy travelers in Terminal 1

How is this possible ?  We just had a great meal, served on linen covered tables in Terminal 1 at Rome’s Fiumicino Airport.  Our day started on the Frecciargento fast train from Benevento to Roma. Next, we grabbed the 1/2 hour shuttle train to the airport. Lugging our luggage we finally got to Terminal 1 to wait for our plane to Alghero, Sardegna.

Yawn. Bored right?  Impossible – this place is a stroll down Fifth Avenue on New York. I quickly zapped to attention and drooled on the display windows of oodles of Italian designers.

Jack was more focused. “Pranza,” he said. Let’s find a place to eat and relax. We started searching. Sigh, designer shops and a facockata food court?  However, the foodie gods were with us and led us to a wee bit of gourmet heaven just beyond the expensive panini.

“Wine and Food Restaurant” is tucked away at the end of the food court. Lunch cost us €52.50 but was well worth it. When you consider an airport panini can cost you €15 the price isn’t bad. I had the freshest mozzarella di bufalo that I’ve had in ages. It was served beautifully on a bed of greens and tiny tomatoes. Yum.

Jack’s ceasar salad was elegant and unusual. It was made with arugula, tomatoes, and tons of large slices of parmigiana. He followed that with pasta caccio e peppe. A thick creamy ragu laden with tons of cheese and fresh ground black pepper graced home made spaghetti.

Yes, of course we had wine and acqua minerale. Yummy.

We will remember this place the next time we have a long wait in Terminal 1!

Ci vediamo.

Train to Venezia

The adventure was just starting  out and I discovered a great spot.  Our train trip to Rome on Trenitalia’s Frecciargento 9350 began in Benevento. My first stop – the ladies room. It was wonderful and I encourage all who end or begin their journeys in Benevento not to worry about using the bathroom. There were only two stalls but they were as big as horse stalls. That means you can take your suitcases in with you and not be squished. At New York’s Penn Station I shudder at how terrible it feels to have those bags pressing my knees. The other station  amenity that appealed to Jack was the bar. Due cappuccini per favore – cost 1.50 each – double what they cost in Pontelandolfo – but hey this is the city.

We decided to splurge and booked first class train tickets all the way to Venezia. Two tickets round trip cost us a total of €300. The first leg was Benevento to Roma with a quick change. The train arrived a wee bit early and we plopped ourselves in the commodious seats. It was a 4 top table just right for a game of bridge – which of course I don’t play. Oops, I’m sorry, Jack hasn’t quite plopped yet. His suitcase was too big to fit overhead and they don’t have a luggage rack at the front. Hmmm – put it on an empty seat! Good plan. (We lucked out and no one ever took that seat). The host came through with newspapers, snacks, water, sodas. Ahhhh.

The guy next to us had set up an office. Each seat has electric outlets so phone, lap tops – even wee portable printers can be set up. Commuting with style. Or is that working under pressure?

Out the windows, the hills of Sannio passed us by complete with sheep and shepherds. Jack read. I wrote. It was lovely. Than the other shoe dropped – what is that announcement about Caserta? There was a problem on the track after Caserta and we could sit there for 40 minutes. Beh! That puts a big damper in our travel plans – we have a connecting train in Rome. Our seat mate said I should talk to the Capo di Treno – who or what the hell is that? Lets go find out.

I walked through the first class cars towards the bar – how civilized – searching for Il Capo near the bar. Even though it is only 9:30 AM I am tempted to have a caffè corretto – toss that shot of grappa in that coffee please. Yes, he must be  Il Capo – I’m guessing head conductor. There, in a uniform that looked an awful lot like Captain Kagaroo’s, was the charming and robust Il Capo. He glanced at my ticket and said it would be easy to change the connection at Rome Termini – just go to the info kiosk between tracks 3 and 4. There is a train to Venezia every hour. Whoops – the train moved, I guess the wait wasn’t the predicted 40 minutes. We didn’t sit for 40 minutes, they put us on a different track. The sloooooo mo track from Campobasso to Roma. The same track the 12€ ticket from Boiano takes. The seats may be first class but we are poking along.

Looking at the bright side – it is a clear and sunny day – the wifi works! I jumped to an empty seat, set up my iPad and keyboard, put on my classy shades, watched the world go by and sighed. Oops, I sat up straight, sucked in my gut and smiled. Here comes the cute host boy again with more drinks and snacks. I’m being good and just looking not touching. AT the snacks – the snacks.

We pass Cassino. It’s laundry is fluttering from terra cotta and sun kissed yellow high rises. Smaller towns are bleeps as the train chugs on. Then countryside with plowed fields and neat small homes surrounded by goats and sheep enclosed in make shift fences. I expect to see barefooted children with their dogs standing near the tracks waving. Factories – 1950s style boxes – break up the green. I turn my head – a field of solar panels out one window and untouched hills out the other.
Staring is great fun and really relaxing until my inner “equal justice girl” roars out and and dons her cape. I realized that all of the beautiful verdant hills are unencumbered with freakin’ ugly wind mills. I’ve written about the windmill blight on the Southern Italy landscape. I just need to say it again. How come they don’t put any on the hills outside of ROME! Take a cleansing breath and get over it. Questa è italia.

That reminds me – no one ever checked our tickets. Does that mean you can scope out first class and ride for free?????

Any minute the view I find unbelievable will appear. Waiting for it – yes, yes, – I poke Jack awake – there they are – the wonderful Roman ruins.

Roma Termini is always a ZOO! Lots of folks getting off trains, getting on trains – New Yorkers, you can understand this. Le Frecce, the fast cool train, department of Trenitalia has quick fix booths between tracks 3 & 4. This is important to know. We did have to wait about 10 minutes to get our tickets to Venezia changed. Instead of being on the 11:50 that we missed by 40 minutes, we were on the 1:50.

Since we had time to kill, we looked for a restaurant with seats. Close to the tracks is an American Style joint called “Roadhouse Grill.” We knew it was American style because there was a life size cow statue by each door – like the ones that artists paint in cute American towns. I rolled my eyes and looked at Jack. “It has seats,” he said. We went in and what a pleasant surprise. Clean, well managed and if you like beef a great place. The steaks coming past us were rare and gorgeous. Jack had a cheeseburger and said it was good. I opted for Caesar Salad with grilled chicken breast. The chicken was a real breast – not pressed goop. It was again, surprisingly, good. Lunch with one beer and one bottle of mineral water cost us €31.60. Not bad for lunch in a major city.

We are finally on the way to Venezia! Train 9430 was waiting for us on track 3. Only problem was our seats weren’t together. Beh! I fixed that in a smile and a wink. Ahhhhh my own wide reclining chair with foot rests. Nice leather seats, wifi, big windows and have I mentioned foot rests?

The scenery changes. The mountains are off in the distance. This valley of small rolling hills must have caused invading armies sporting armor and spears to grunt and groan. We race through tunnels and zip by fairly modern houses painted in those terra-cotta and sunny colors. I long for purple or red or green.

We had our snack and the requisite glass of wine and acqua minerale then stared some more.

Filling my huge window are fortresses, lakes, and beautiful villas set back and surrounded by tall, skinny evergreens. Toscana I shout. Next stop Firenze. Che Bella. An Italian portrait right out my window. Know what else was beautiful? This train had a wheel chair, easily accessible, huge circular bathroom. Complete with toilet paper! Traveling with a handicapped student, I remember an Amtrack trip to Washington and it was the train trip of hell. This ain’t Amtrack.

The view keeps changing as we go. I am mesmerized by the shifting landscapes – mountains to rolling valleys to the plains of the north to the long bridge over the water to the station “Venezia Santa Lucia.”

We got off the train, dragged our bags out the front door and gasped. This is what greets the weary traveler.

PS – toilest at this train station costs €1 and are just OK.

Train Facts:

Great App for your phone – Info Treno

You can purchase Trenitalia tickets on line at They have deals all the time.

Overhead space doesn’t hold big suitcases – airline carry on size works.

You may be sharing a 4 person table with strangers. There is no extra space on the floor for that giant Murano lamp.

Use the Train Number not where you are going when you are trying to find the right track. You may not know the last stop on the train and that is the town that will be posted.

Ci Vediamo.

Mail Boxes ETC. Italian Style!


Jack had two large suitcases.  I had one large suitcase and a small suitcase stuffed with books.  He had a carry-on.  I had a carry-on and a purse.  Easy peasy – we get a ride to JFK International Airport and are a scant few feet away from the Air Emirates counter.  They take the bags and we go off to have a drink and talk about our next six months.  In Milano we use a FREE cart to hold the bags and take them out to the taxi kiosk.  There the driver jams them into the trunk and escorts us to our apartment building – where he hands over the suitcases to a charming man who worked there.

Ahhhhh – we open a bottle of wine and stare out the window at the street. “Look Jack – the subway stop is so close it will be easy to get to the train station.”  EASY – we have three huge suitcases, one book stuffed sack, two carry-ons and a purse!!!!  What were we thinking!!!

We decided we would end up paying big bucks to take a cab to the train station – in rush hour traffic and not worry about the bags.  Than one morning we decided to walk down our street in the opposite direction.  There, on the corner was a Mail Boxes Etc.  Dragging Jack over to the window I pointed out the sign that talked about a cheap rate if you could stuff a bunch of stuff in a box and it weighed less than 10 Kg.  “The books,”  I screeched – let’s at least offload the books.  I went in and talked to Fernando La Vigna, the store manager, and he said the books would get to Pontelandolfo in 2 days.

The next morning, we dragged two shopping bags full of books back.  It cost us €16.90 to send the books – we were under the 10 Kg too.  I jokingly said, “lets go back and get more stuff from the suitcases to stuff in the box.”  Fernando looked at us and said, “we can ship the suitcases.”

The thought of a way not to schlep all the suitcases on the train and drag them around Roma Termini to switch trains was incredibly appealing.  We had looked into shipping the suitcases from the USA and the average charge door to door was $250 each.  I asked how much it would cost – “not to worry – not much.”

The day before we left Milan we dragged the four suitcases to Mail Boxes Etc. located at Via G. Pelitti 7 – 20126 Milano.  ( or 02 395 46101)   For €80 all four pieces went from Milan to our house in Pontelandolfo.  They actually got there the next day before we did!

Would I do that again?  In a nanosecond!!!  Riding the train is a great way to see the country – dragging the suitcases for a six month stay on the train is not.

Getting to Naples Airport


Road Rage Doesn’t Become Me.

It is so exciting for us when our friends and family come to visit. It is not so exciting to drive to the Naples airport. We love our family and friends but aren’t kind and gentle enough to drive to the Rome airport to pick them up.  We (OK me – Jack is kind) tell them to fly to Naples.  Now, after schlepping to Naples numerous times to procure our loved ones, cursing and shrieking during the drive and watching Jack clutch the wheel while I turned green –  I started thinking there must be a better way.  Couldn’t the adventuresome guests take the train?  Yeah, yeah, yeah I know, I’m a bitch but have you driven in Naples or Rome?


Janet Cantore Watson came and found her Cantore cousins in Pontelandolfo!

It is a small world.  I have always considered Janet my daughter and discovering she had family where I had family was an uber woo woo moment.  Being a brazen lady of the world, Janet was the first guest to take a bus from a stop seconds from our house to Naples.  We were told that an early morning direct bus to Naples stopped in the piazza in Compolattaro.  That piazza is literally 5 minutes from our house.  We were there in the wee hours of the morning.  A tiny little bus stopped.  I asked if it went to Naples. “Si” said the lying S.O.B. bus driver.  Janet kissed us goodbye and got on.  As we were leaving a big bus pulled around the corner – h’mmm I wondered?   The first bus only went as far as Benevento – the second bus was the right one.  Merde.  Janet had to figure out which bus from Benevento went to Napoli.  Jack just pointed out that the first driver was not an S.O.B since he stayed with Janet and escorted her to the right bus – which cost her €10.  Double Merde.  After tooling around Naples Janet hopped a €16 cab to the airport. Her experience taught us that we have to over research everything and ask ALL the right questions.

Alex 2013

My brilliant niece, Alexandra Rose, was the first to explore the train to the plane connections from Pontelandolfo to the Naples airport.

When she came to visit this fall, Alex wanted to hang in Naples with her cousin Giusy. ( I didn’t ask what they got up to and they didn’t tell.)  After landing at the Naples Cappodichino  airport she hopped the Naples Alibus Airport Shuttle.  It took her to Naple’s Central Train Station.  After frolicking with Giusy, she took a Metrocampania train from Naples to Benevento.  There we scooped her up in big hugs and drove the scant twenty minutes home.

It is wonderful to have an adventuresome kid in my life.  Living in London she has traveled all over Europe alone.  Alex has scored thousands of points with this Auntie Mame.  Returning to London, Alex was going to do the trip directly to the airport. We hopped in the car and took a short slide down the mountain to Stazione di Benevento.


There Alex was able to get a ticket on a Metrocampania NordEst train to Napoli Termini.  She tells me the ride was quick, easy and uneventful.

Next, the ever resourceful traveler jotted down specific directions to the AliBus shuttle from Napoli Termini to Naples Cappodichino airport for whoever was going to try it next.  Alex’s directions were simple enough. Tickets were cheap too.  It’s €4 if you buy the ticket on the bus or €3 if you buy it at a shop – but we don’t know which ones.  She was easily at the airport and on the way to England.


Marta Figueroa – our next adventurer.

Marta, the traveling buddy of my youth, spent a fun filled week with us.  Being another world wide explorer she said it was stupid for us to repeat the drive to the Naples airport.  We had picked her up there and she got the full driving in Naples and on the highways experience.  “How could they be passing on a solid line?”  “Is going that fast legal?”

We got Marta to the Benevento  Train Station in plenty of time.  There isn’t great parking near the station so Jack stayed with the car.  I went in to discover that Alex was right – buying tickets was a breeze.  The station was organized – just lacked parking which reminded me of NJ Transit.  The ticket to Naples was only €5.  She got on the train and all was well until she got to Naples.  Even though we had Alex’s directions and knew that the Alibus stop is located in Piazza Garibaldi midway between the Central Station and Corso Garibaldi.  No one could help her figure out which door out of the train station headed in the right direction.  When she finally dragged her suitcase to the right place a kindly gent suggested that since the bus wouldn’t be there for ten minutes she cross the street and buy a ticket in advance.  Marta bought the ticket and  watched an Alibus come in, unload and leave.  What???  Maybe the driver had to pee.  A second bus came in, unloaded and left!  Now she is panicking about making her flight.  Finally, a full 45 minutes later,  an empty Alibus appeared and let the throng of people on.  Imagine how many people were now cued up, worried about catching trains and dragging luggage.  Marta pushed her way onto the bus and then watched the drama unfold.  The driver wouldn’t leave until a very proper British type lady got a new ticket.  She spoke Italian with great force and pretension.  “I have a bloody ticket and will not buy another.”  Now, you must validate the ticket in the electronic ticket machine on the bus and it is good for 90 minutes from validation.  What Marta couldn’t figure out is if the women had validated it too long ago or it was three years old.  She said the shouts and screams were incredible.  People on the bus were offering to pay her way.  The driver threatened to call the police.  She threatened to – well I don’t remember what.  But there was much shrieking until – —

The bus took off and Marta made it to the airport with only twenty minutes before the boarding of her flight.  Her recommendation – take the taxi!

Some cynic said to me – “Mussolini is dead you can’t expect public transportation to run on time.”

Taking Nonna’s Mulberry Tree on the Road

Midge cutesy

Headshot Waiting to be Hung in Your Lobby!

You knew it had to happen!  How could the actress in me just sit at a computer and write the tales of an Italian village?  When would I explode and start shouting the tales from the hilltops – or better yet as a one women show wherever anyone will have me. (And pay me of course!  This living on a fixed income stuff ain’t what it’s cracked up to be.)   The kick in my lazy butt to work on a show came from the Westlake Italian American Club.  Marie M, one of  the faithful Nonna’s Mulberry Tree subscribers reached out to me and asked if I would do a presentation at Westlake.  She knew of my theater background and thought that I would be a funny, entertaining and informative presenter.  I mean, of course she is right.  Gulp – I have a gig this January – now I need a show!

I quickly e-mailed back and said the title of my show was:

Il Dolce Fa Niente – The Sweetness of Doing Nothing

The BS  – oops – PR blurb I wrote was:

How does a type A personality manage to assimilate into the life of a small Italian mountain village? By taking a gulp and repeating daily, “it is OK to do nothing”.  It is expected that one naps every afternoon.  The evening meandering passeggiata through the piazza is for meeting and greeting not power-walking. I’ll share the stories of how a “Jersey Girl” manages to live in Pontelandolfo, explore her roots and ultimately learn, “Il Dolce Fa Niente”.

Pretty general blurb – I can pretty well talk about anything.  Now, here is where I need your help.  What would an audience really like to hear about?  Take the short poll to help me pick out topics.  Or better yet – leave a comment about what posts resonated with you, made you laugh, cry or curse.  Tell me what you’d like to know!

Grazie Tante!