Dining Out

Last weekend, we had the great pleasure of eating at Florence's friend Elena's grandparents' house (got that? I love nested possessives!). They are the most lovable and loving people you could meet.

They live down by Crocefisso, and on our way down, we saw the owner of Buffetti (our local school supply store; needless to say, our family alone kept them afloat for several months last fall). He greeted us cheerfully and I introduced Michael, whom he'd never met. We exchanged a few words...it turned out that he was going to be the chef for the party that was being held at Crocefisso, and he thought we might be on our way there.

We explained our purpose, and went on our way. A few minutes later, he came up from behind, carrying a bottle of homemade wine -- an offering for our dinner! From where we were, he was able to point out his own vineyards -- how often does that happen upon receiving a bottle of wine?!

And there we were...being greeted warmly by i nonni, Elena, and Elena's mom. Unfortunately, her dad was not able to join us, as he had a gig playing trumpet.

They showed us through the house, which had been a farmhouse for who knows how long. The grandparents were local butchers for many years who also raised their own animals, so they continued the tradition of keeping the bestie (cows for slaughter) in the lower level of the house and living upstairs. The pigs, by contrast, lived in what is now their shed/where the cats hang out.

The tree in the background extended over the entire table,
providing welcome shade

The table was beautifully set outside, under a tree that the nonno told us was around 300 years old. Michael expressed his amazement, and we received further explanation and corroboration: some years back, the tree was infested, and they'd had to call in a tree surgeon. As part of that work, they'd had to augur out cores in order to pack in medicine for the tree (details are a bit sketchy here, sorry), so they could get a feel for the number of rings.

And the melon was scrumptious, too!

At that point, the eating began in earnest. First we had prosciutto -- that of course they had prepared themselves. Confession time: I've not been a huge prosciutto gal. But they loaded my plate, and I had to be brave, so here I was. Supplied amply with torta di testo, a freshly-made flatbread (it arrived hot off the griddle), we made little flat sandwiches. Can I tell you about this prosciutto? Seriously yummy. There were two types -- the first was the more commonly found kind that was still yummier than usual. The second? Well, it had some really good chew to it. And it was so so so so so delicious, I couldn't believe it.

The view from my seat

James ate nearly the whole pig leg. But we won't embarrass him about it.

Next came a cold risotto. It was really made flavorful with the addition of tuna -- but it also had veggies, eggs, and so on. Moving on, we had little slices of pork loin (?) poached, with a sauce of tuna and mayonnaise, and who knows what else.

Another small part of the garden

At this point, we could hardly move. But we had to: the sunset was too compellingly lovely, so we all ran down to a little viewpoint where we could see the entire sky with Todi in the background.

Back to the table! Not done yet! At this point, we had a salad of some sort (I'm wracking my brain), and homegrown cherries for dessert.

The live accordion music from Crocefisso provided such a fitting accompaniment! After a while, the kids drifted over there while the adults continued to chat over coffee.

And then, a brisk walk up the hill, and bed.

Love,

Alexandra

A vertical adventure

Last night I went to my scout leader, Giacomo's, house to do some planning for our trip in August (right now it looks like we'll be hiking on the Swiss border).  On the way out the door he casually mentioned to me, "oh, would you like to go climbing?"  As the kid who lived half her life in trees (until she found they started bending under her weight) naturally I jumped at the opportunity and asked the obvious-- when?  "Eh, tomorrow... how about six?"  Sure, why not?

By the time he came around to pick me up I still was not entirely sure of the situation, as in I didn't know where or what kind of surface we were climbing.  But I did know it would be fun so I didn't worry too much.  Wow, I was right...

We had driven a bit out of Todi-- maybe fifteen minutes-- when Giacomo pulled over, pointing to a cliff hanging over the road.  "That's where we'll be climbing," he said simply.  To get to said cliff was an obstacle course in and of itself: twisty 1' wide paths up steep slopes, flights of steps created by tree roots, even a portion that traversed a ditch and required that we balance along the rear edge of the concrete wall that supported the (rural) highway barrier... all of which Giacomo managed while on the phone.

Eventually we stood at the foot of the cliff.  I looked up and saw rocks and sky.  I looked down and saw a densely wooded slope scattered with the odd boulder here and there.  I looked in front of me and saw the tiny members of the insect world going about their busy lives. Nothing and no one else. "Look up there," said a voice over my shoulder, and I followed his finger up about two-thirds of the way up the cliff [everyone is asking how tall it is, but unfortunately I am completely lost at estimating distances, especially vertical ones.  Let's just say that it is high enough that you're pretty tired by the time you reach the top.] "From there you get the best view around of the lake and mountains behind us, so don't forget to look."  Yes, assuming that I manage to get above that threateningly smooth patch of rock, find a good handhold, and by some miracle twist half of my body around while keeping the other half on the cliff, I will look.

In the meantime our other companion had arrived, bringing with him some important items, such as bug spray and rope.  We geared up and Emanuele began scaling the rocks, attaching the ropes to the clips so that those of us less experienced could have fun without risking our vertebrae or other important parts.  In no time another adventurer-- who, as I later found out, was a climbing instructor who comes out here every day to practice-- showed up and greeted my companions.  He showed me the basics and sent me up.  Adrenaline and hard work do funny things to your brain.  I have no idea how long I was clinging to that rock; nor do I remember how difficult it was.  I do remember one portion-- a smooth bowl shape hollowed out in the cliff surface-- that got me stuck for a little while, and Emanuele calling me to come down before being silenced by the others.  Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not one to give up while the end is in sight, and sure enough I did end up reaching the top.  And seeing the view-- Giacomo wasn't kidding either!

Next it was Giacomo's turn.  Emanuele gave me a 5-minute crash course on belaying and set off to climb another side with his friend, leaving me with a rope and an adult male to keep on a vertical surface.  I'd say it went pretty well-- no one left with broken bones, and I didn't really need that bit of hair anyway.

After not too much longer it was time to go home for dinner.  If half the sheer joy in my heart showed through my face, it's a wonder that Giacomo wasn't blinded on the way home-- then again, it must have been dimmed by the brilliant sunset to our left.  He was very enthusiastic as well, though, and happy to quote the instructor, who seemed to have been quite liberal in his praise of my little venture up.  He seems to think that with a little practice and some shoes of my own I could actually end up being pretty good-- whether or not he's right, I think that I can safely say I've found my sport.  Turns out this group, along with our darling driver, generally meets every week-- will I be there?  You bet!  (Assuming that I can get my fingers to unclench by then)

Eleanor

PS They're talking about going a weekend in September to a location near Naples, taking a couple of tents for the overnight, and climbing up the cliff that overlooks the beach.  Che bello!

Giacomo got some great photos of the only part of me visible...

Fresh Food

One day while Angela was visiting, she and I stopped at a local farm to pick up some cherries. The truth is, the farm no longer has their fruit and veggie store, because the farmer is older & his wife needs a good bit of care now. However, he has a helper and they do sell bits and pieces.

Marco picking cherries for us

We drove up, and the farmer came around the corner looking at us through his rheumy eyes. When we explained what we wanted, he called, "Marco!" -- and up trotted the helper, an Albanian. Of course, the first question was how many cherries we wanted. Because he had to walk 15 meters to get to the tree & pick them.

While we were deliberating, Marco asked us whether we wanted some "piccione" ("pigeon") for lunch. Making an indeterminate, pensive expression, I asked how they were prepared. Heck, he didn't know -- the farmer was the fellow for the recipe -- and he gestured for us to go behind the house.

And this is what we saw:

"Five little doves went out one day..."

Rather hesitantly, I asked our culinary guide what exactly one does with these small creatures. He explained that they're simply done with a little olive oil & salt, no garlic. He said that they are the crème de la crème of poultry, corroborating the verbal statement with that charming gesture of the index finger swiveling on the cheek.

Remembering our experience with the whole chickens, I asked if he would clean them. He looked a bit puzzled. And then asked for detail, explaining that the innards are considered the best part. I was thoroughly dubious by this point, since organ meats are most decidedly not my thing. He did offer to remove the stomach, though, which I agreed was an excellent idea.

Cleaning small birds

While our sous-chef was preparing the birds, we went out into the fields and picked (well, ate) cherries and talked to Marco.

The family food review was mixed. The meat turned out to be every bit as dark as well-done beef, which I found fascinating, and very flavorful -- which I liked. It turned out that the farmer had reconsidered the process and had (thankfully) fully cleaned the birds, which certainly helped my enjoyment. I hope he had an innards pie or something for lunch, because I'm sure he would like it better than I would have. The meat, rather than being mushy (my only other experience with dove -- which had been stewed rather than roasted) was on the tough side -- which actually I rather enjoyed.

And the cherries? Delicious.

Love,

Alexandra

Tomorrow's lunch

Rome

Last Sunday, I got the opportunity to go to a Mass in Rome. Held in St. Peter's Square. Presided by Pope Francis.
We arrived early, as in an hour early. And it was HOT. And we were in the sun. When the Mass started (at  9:30), we couldn't see much, but Pope Francis was wheeled around in his "Papamobile". That was the first time that I was glad that we got there early, because he passed me about ten meters away -- close enough that I could see him, despite the fact that everyone was standing on chairs. The Mass was long and multi-lingual (including Chinese and Korean) and the entire Gospel was sung. Pope Francis's benediction ended with "buona Domenica e buon pranzo" meaning "good Sunday and good lunch!" but it sounds better in Italian and it makes more sense too. After the Mass we visited the basilica and then we split up into two groups: one climbed the dome, the other visited a nearby church (I was in that group).
Ciao,
Florence

Ashley...the Hook Champion!

Forget Michael, noted in the local paper for his running. I mean, he only came in 102nd or something. Ashley, though, is the certified 2nd fastest girl her age in Todi! It was hilarious to see them convert the piazza into a track (documented earlier by Michael) -- who would have expected that? But sure enough, a little fake grass (indoor outdoor carpet, actually!), a finish line, and a pair of wooden blocks (clapped together to start the heats), and you’re on for a great series of races! It was remarkably well run...as Michael put it, they were like worker ants, each knowing his or her own task. The rest of us could merely look on in wonder as somehow the work was completed smoothly!

And our girl WON!  Woo hoo!  I have some videos to share, as well as some clips. Sadly, James -- usually our sprinter -- was an also-ran...maybe next year!

Before the start of the events

Atta Girl!

This is James's race:

And here's our champion:

Love,

Alexandra

Breakdown!

Going up into the hill to Deruta, I was stuck behind a car going veeeery sloooooowly. My little sweet thing started acting strangely, and then completely stalled out. Okay, fine, just pull the starter again, right? Except there was absolutely niente in response.

Next plan: let myself drift back down the hill in the hopes of turning it around & roll starting. Unfortunately, the road was a wee bit narrow, so I wasn't able to turn as far as I would have liked; I ended up nose uphill, across a narrow road. Hmm.

Onto plan C: pull out the cell phone and call Claudio & Daniele, staunch speed dial allies. The conversation was short and sweet...because of course at THAT point, my cell phone decided that it wanted to alert me to a dying battery. However, Daniele told me that he had a friend in Deruta, no problem, and if the friend couldn't come, he himself would come rescue me. I described where we were, and all Angela and I had left to do was wait and watch the other cars try to get by my sweet thing.

Not a shabby view to look at while waiting on the mechanic

Medieval wash basins outside the town walls

I finally got to use the triangle stashed in the trunk!
Which, ironically, a driver ran over and flattened....

While we were waiting, the most enormous potato chip delivery van (think a Lay's delivery truck...that style) drove up. If you can tell in the picture, the wall curves at that point. So going through can be tricky in a wide vehicle. The young driver inched up as far as he felt comfortable, engaged the parking brake, and looked through the passenger window to check out his room. With an inch to spare on each side, he made it through! Bravo! He even stopped to help by pushing the car, but when he heard that the mechanic was on his way, decided that it could wait.

That was contrasted by other, more experience drivers in smaller cars who were completely unnerved by the situation.

Eventually (within about 15 minutes, I'm guessing), up came our hero -- but I've unfortunately forgotten his name now. He clearly had never seen the guts of a cinquecento, but was very brave. He called Daniele for advice, then decided that I needed a new battery. Maybe. 

At that point, I gave him my keys and cell phone number (with the instruction not to call me unless he really needed me because of the phone battery situation), and told him that Ang and I would be wandering in the town. 

We had only been in the first shop for 5 minutes when the call came: "Your car's all ready." So out we popped, looked over the wall to the scene of abandonment, and it was gone! Gah! putt.putt.putt. I looked behind me, and there he was! My new best friend with my little car putting merrily away! Turned out that the battery had managed to slide against the carriage of the car and had shorted out -- leaving us without our auxiliary power on the uphill! He had provided a "temporary" fix (meaning, I'm sure, spacers made from cardboard boxes) and instructed me to see Daniele because he didn't want to poach clients. Are you kidding me?  

Upon asking what I owed, he said "nothing, no problem." I fixed him with a steely eye & told him he was being ridiculous and that that answer would not work for me. He offered, "10 euros, then."

Love,

Alexandra

It Takes Two...

It’s Todi’s Tango Festival! All week, we get to enjoy music, dancing, workshops, and a great time in the Piazza! It’s fascinating to see the variety -- some are in the whole gear -- others just wear cargo shorts and their dancing shoes. They’re pretty amazing, though! I'll try to get some video later. Nighttime doesn't usually come out well, though, so we'll see.

Love,

Alexandra

The piazza transformed into a ballroom

Pilgrimage

Angela, Florence and I decided to take a pilgrimage of sorts to Citta di Castello, a town a bit north of Perugia. Margherita di Castello was a young woman who was born disabled, completely rejected by her parents, and then taken in by nuns -- who then later rejected her.  She somehow managed to lead a rather full life with her level of disability, and had her physical needs cared for by the Dominicans. As a result, she is the patron saint of the disabled, a potent saint for the prochoice, and interestingly a protectress against financial insecurity. Interestingly, it was on St. Anthony of Padua’s feast day -- another favorite of mine -- he has helped me find many a lost object in my time!

The town itself is lovely. In many ways, it is different from Todi. To begin with, it is much flatter -- and sadly doesn’t have the views that we enjoy here. On the other hand, it’s very, very well kept up. The buildings are freshly stuccoed and beautiful.

And (ulp), they have the world’s best gelato. My apologies to Pianegiani (a close second), but I have to confess. The pistachio was made with pure nuts (including chunks of pistachio butter that melted creamily in the mouth).

We visited St. Dominic’s Church, where Margherita’s mummy is enshrined, and visited the Duomo. The Duomo has a slightly funny episode in history -- it was heavily damaged in an earthquake in xxxx. A mere 13 years later, the town voted that it was important to restore the building. It took another 57 years to actually get started on the reconstruction project -- and I thought I procrastinate!

Love,

Alexandra

The main piazza

Savings Bank

Fun chair in a shop!

St. Dominic's

Side door of St. Dominic's

Fresco over side door, St. Dominic's

This is the round church tower

City Hall

Inside City Hall

Another fresco. Very unusual styling!

Side entrance of the Duomo

A palazzo, now a museum (?)

The fresco work on the stucco was amazing

En Route in Amsterdam Schiphol

Yesterday Eleanor, Jeremy, James, and I had a relaxing four hour layover in Amsterdam Schiphol on our way back to Todi.

But first a look at the the three excellent travelers in Atlanta:

And here they are quite a few hours later as we approached Amsterdam:

Upon arriving we found that everything had turned blue:

There was no doubt we were in the Netherlands:

If you ever have a few minutes in the Schiphol airport I can highly recommend this restaurant. We split a pair of triple chocolate muffins and I had a nice salmon sandwich. While we ate we saw other people with parfaits, chocolate fondue with beautiful fruit, milkshakes,...all sorts of stuff we would have loved to try.

Do you like this three foot high chocolate flower?

After eating we wandered around the airport some more. They have an airplane on the roof!

We tried to find out how to get up there but we're not successful. Maybe it is part of the KLM lounge.

We did find a quiet upstairs area for travelers, complete with twittering bird sounds and lounge chairs:

It also had an outside patio. I didn't take any pictures of the nice green bits, but I did get these three people you know to prove that we were there:

The airport is everything you would expect from the Dutch: clean, well planned, and pleasant to look at. Do you like the way they handled the only broken tile in the building?

Michael