Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

That can be true. I have been remembering a lot of old songs of my growing up years, with the help of the very funny people who post on http://www.expatsinitaly.com/ ... 'Purple People Eaters', 'Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Polka Dot Bikini', Marty Robbins' cowboy song 'Town of El Paso' ... all the way up to the hauntingly beautiful (and I do mean this, as a native-born Northern Californian) 'California Dreamin' ...

All the leaves are brown And the sky is grey

I went for a walk On a winter's day

I'd be safe and warm If I was in L.A.

California dreamin' On such a winter's day

I stopped into a church (stopped into a church) I passed along the way (passed along the way)

You know, I got down on my knees (got down on my knees)

And I pretend to pray (I pretend to pray)

Oh, the preacher likes the cold (preacher likes the cold) He knows I'm gonna stay (knows I'm gonna stay)

**** flute solo ****

Oh, California dreamin' (California dreamin') On such a winter's day

All the leaves are brown (the leaves are brown)

And the sky is grey (and the sky is grey)

I went for a walk (I went for a walk) On a winter's day (on a winter's day)

If I didn't tell her (if I didn't tell her) I could leave today (I could leave today)

Oh, California dreamin' (California dreamin') On such a winter's day (California dreamin')

On such a winter's day (California dreamin')

On such a winter's day (California dreamin') On such a winter's day

I'm thinking about the impressionability of my youth, how I really can remember a lot of goofy lyrics as well as the beautiful ones, though I wasn't good at remembering names of groups and who played what.

Wanted to live in Europe, how impossible I thought it would ever be.

And then I met a man (I met a man),

who got down on his knee (on his knee .. well, sort of)

and asked, 'Will you marry me?'

And twenty six years later (twenty six years later), it all came to be (came to be).

Now in Italy two years, and I'm California dreamin' (California dreamin'),

or maybe New Jer-zee (New Jer-zee).

The man is wondering what I'm thinking (what I'm thinking).

***zither solo***

Fall the leaves are yellow (leaves are yellow), don't turn flame and autumn gold.

Someday I'll return home, before Medicare kicks in (Medicare kicks in),

and I'll have my memories when I'm tired

and old, when I'm tired and old.

Bricks and Beams in the Morning

This morning I woke up and, for the first time since August 2, 2005,

I did not say to myself,

'This is not home.'

I looked up at the bricks and beams, and smiled.

Total relaxation, no split-second of panic.

Maybe I am turning a corner.

Customer Service, Part 685

This is just a little vignette of the customer service that isn't. We go into FNAC, the 'Best Buy', 'P C Richards' equivalent in Europe. We are looking for a shelf stereo system, and we settle on two or three systems to test. We go home, telling Francesco the salesman that we will be back tomorrow. Tomorrow comes and we have brought two CDs so that we can hear what we need to hear. We listen to the first system, the more expensive one. Then Francesco suggests that we listen to that system over there...less expensive, smaller speakers but by the same manufacturer... but it isn't hooked up. He says, no problem, he can do that.

So while he is doing that we look at something else in the store, nearby. I don't want to appear to be looking over his shoulder. He tells us the second system is ready, and we listen to the CDs. Then we take the CDs back to the first, more expensive system, the one that we really want, to listen one more time before we make a buying decision. And the cables are gone!

There aren't enough cables in the store for all the systems, so our oh-so-helpful salesman hooked up the second system with the cables from the first system. Now we have to ask, beg, please would he hook up the first system again, as we are making a big decision (remember that 35% exchange rate) and we need to hear the first system one more time. I promise that if we like it we will buy it. I am dancing as fast as I can to get him to change the cables again.

So, he does and we do and we buy. Now, my question is: Why would a salesman disable one of the two systems a serious customer is examining? It was our second day there, we brought our own music for listening, he knew we were going to make a decision that morning.

Answer: ...This Is Italy.

Deep Roots

I have wondered why I felt the need to bring so much stuff with me on our move to Italy. One obvious answer is that I thought we would be moving here to stay for a long, long time. Now I have changed my mind on that time frame. When we were planning our move, we briefly considered the furnished pied a terre option, and I vehemently discarded it. I felt that I needed to leap in with both feet, and bring my stuff so that my new home would feel like home.

So, something Angel said the other day really has been percolating through my mind, and I think this answers my question to myself. Some people are deep-rooted and some are shallow-rooted. I am deep-rooted. I put down deep roots by decorating my walls, accumulating books and papers, saving mementos, buying pots and pans and china and crystal. As a deep-rooted person, I am also a collector, for a collection ties me to a time and place. Maybe I collect 1930s kitchen implements, because doing that recreates for me a mythical time in the life of my family of origin that I have romanticized.

Therefore, when a deep-rooted one decides to uproot herself and plant herself somewhere else, a lot of stuff comes out with the roots.

A shallow-rooted person travels easily, rents places to live, doesn't mind using someone else's things temporarily. A deep-rooted person has tentacles that go back into her life, that drag things along from place to place.

Every once in a while there is a pruning, a garage sale, a dumpster to be filled. But basically it just pares things down a little. The ties to my past define me. I look at framed pictures and smile. I look at favorite books and think 'maybe I'll reread that this summer'.

When we have gone back to New Jersey, I will have objects from Italy and France and Vienna and London, and all the places we have yet to go.

When I was a kid, my family's neighbor was a couple who had lived in Saudi Arabia for thirty years, while the husband worked for Aramco. After he retired and they returned permanently to their home on our street, their house then held memories of all their travels. Roots in their pasts, however long into the future the past took to build itself. Layers of meaning, physical memories of a life. I like that. And so my boxes of stuff will always go with me.

London, London! June 2007 Part 5

One afternoon I visited Westminster Abbey, in memory of my Mom, who had made some artistic pottery that she sent there for the sacristy. Its probably long gone, but I knew that if she visited London, she would go to the Abbey. I was not prepared for how much this visit affected me. I was raised in the Episcopalian church (The Anglican Church of England in America...at least that's what it was a long time ago; today it is full of controversy and rifts), I haven't gone to church for myself for forty years, yet there was something so familiar about being there. I took a guided tour, 90 minutes. All the history, all the centuries. Just spendid.

Chimneys masquerading as ice cream cones. I like this photo a lot.
The actual motorcycle (totally restored, of course...the English apparently do this a lot, restoring things...see earlier photo in earlier post about Montgomery's tank) that T. H. Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia) was riding when he veered off the road to avoid boys on bikes, and sustained a terrible head injury which killed him within a few days. There it is, in the museum.

For my daughter, Sandra, I visited Covent Garden, where she had been on a school trip. It was fun, noisy, full of people, wonderful stuff.
And, yes, I went to Harrod's. From the guidebook: No backpacks, no torn jeans...Harrods' doormen ensure even the people in the store are in the best possible taste. This world-famous emporium began life in 1849 as a small, impeccable grocer's, and the present terracotta building was built in 1905. It is most striking at night, when it is illuminated by 11,500 lights. It has more than 150 departments full of extraordinay things at extraordinary prices. The photo above is part of the escalator well, rebuilt by the current owner, Mr. Al Fayed, in an Egyptian theme at a cost of over 21 million BPS ... incredible to see. Fortunately, I wasn't the only one snapping photos.

That's it, my wonderful visit to London. The 2:1 exchange rate of the US$ to the British Pound Sterling was a little bit of a damper, but not enough to make me second-guess the trip. I loved London. And, not surprisingly, one of the things I loved most was being able to speak ENGLISH for four days, be understood, ask questions, be understood, listen to guides, be understood...did I mention being understood??? And the people were terrific, everyone was friendly. I learned to ride the tube and by the second day was scooting around without problems. Color me independent.

London, London! June 2007 Part 4

Always having been fascinated by the whole WWII era, two of my 'must-sees' visiting London were the Churchill War Rooms and the Imperial War Museum. I spent hours between the two.

The Command Center for Churchill and the General Staff. The white phone at the far right is the direct line to Churchill.

The Churchill War Rooms, from the guidebook: During the dark days of World War II, Winston Churchill and his War Cabinet met in these War Rooms beneath the Government Treasury Chambers. They remain just as they were left in 1945 [with the addition of Madame Tussaud-type figures, as lifelike as can be dressed authentically in the uniforms of the day, putting pins in maps, talking on the phone...eerie].

Churchill's quarters in the bunker: his bed, and his desk.

I found this experience, of this visit, to be very emotional. These were the men who held Hitler at bay until America woke up and joined the war effort.

The Imperial War Museum, fittingly enough, is housed in part of the former Bethlehem Hospital, immortalized as...in the vernacular pronunciation...'Bedlam', the hospital for the insane.
These mammoth guns sit before the entrance. I always think of them as the lesser cousins of 'The Guns of Navarone'. Looking at the size of the people at the right, maybe these ARE the guns of Navarone.The smallest existing boat that evacuated soldiers from Dunkirk. The advancing German army was threatening 330,000 French and British soldiers trapped on the beaches.

Field Marshall Bernard Montgomery was the hero of El Alamein and Africa, as well as a continual thorn in Eisenhower's side. This is his personal tank, totally restored (of course).

London, London! June 2007 Part 3

Sunday, I went for a walk and met the most wonderful couple, the Williamses, who were planting window boxes at their son's house. Great faces.

Monday I passed a church with a sign for a harp concert at 1 PM, so after the Kensington Roof Gardens, I returned to the church and listened to a young harpist perform for an hour.

Monday night was the theatre experience of a lifetime, seeing 'Billy Elliot', music by Elton John, based on the 2000 movie of the same name. The story of a young boy who finds out that all he wants to do is dance, set in 1984 against the backgroup of the Thatcherite assault on the coal miners way of life. Terrific.

Tuesday night, dinner with the Kenny family at Lundum's Cafe Bar, a wonderful Danish restaurant. That part of South Kensington at one time was settled by the Danes, and this restaurant serves only Danish food at lunch, and continental at dinner.

Wednesday, my last full day in London, I just walked and looked. I went to Covent Garden, to a British pub for traditional British food (OK, done that, not doing it again!). I ran across this group of schoolgirls in the theatre district going to 'The Lion King'.

London, London! June 2007 Part 2

From the book 'Secret London' by Andrew Duncan, I learned of the Kensington Roof Gardens. Paraphrasing from the book: Conceived by Trevor Bower, head of the Barker's Stores empire, they were begun in the summer of 1936, completed 1938. Ralph Hancock, a leading gardener of the time, did the landscape design. Shoppers used to take a cup of tea before strolling through the gardens. Since 1981, the gardens have belonged to Richard Branson's Virgin group which generously opens them to the public when not in private use. Covering 1.5 acres, divided into three themed areas, with trees up to 40 ft. high, and a stream of 100 feet, with flamingos and ducks, as well as pavilions and a private nightclub.

The old Barker's Department Store building, a Deco treasure, with the most beautiful bas reliefs on the exterior, of birds and fanciful animals and reeds and trees. The gardens are on the roofs.
The Spanish Garden. The arches in the background are the Orangeries.

A view from the nightclub terrace down into the Oriental Garden.

A view of the Spanish Garden showing the superstructure of the nightclub and restaurant.

I spent two hours walking back and forth among the gardens, sneaking over to the portholes in the walls to view the city beyond, and getting permission to go inside the nightclub, a Deco beauty of structural glass and curving stainless steel. The private door into the building which takes you to the elevator to the roof gardens says 'The Hanging Gardens of Babylon', and that they were.

I have a thing about Mallard ducks and photograph them everywhere. There was also a family of Muscovy ducks, but the babies were so fast all I got was a series of little blurs. And two gorgeous flamingos, ignoring me completely.

London, London! June 2007 Part 1

The Giro d'Italia penultimate stage ended in Verona on June 2, and June 3 Angel and I each took off for separate parts, he to the Puglia with his cycling club and I went to London, my first solo trip in Europe. Wow! What a great time I had! So these are five posts with my highlights. Of course, I saw monuments and Big Ben and all of that, but as usual, these photos are personal to me. Above is the street where my hotel was, a typical row of white houses.

American friends were in London, Louise and Mike Kenny and seven Kenny family members; most of us stayed at the same hotel, Number Sixteen in South Kensington.

The first night we went to dinner at an outdoor cafe. That is me by the white-haired guy in the yellow shirt, one of the Kenny brothers. Louise and Mike are in the back...Louise is in brown. I guess the London authorities got tired of scraping tourists off the pavement, because in the City and the hotel areas, you see these signs at all crosswalks.

This was the view from the French doors in my room, to the breakfast garden. Did I say that I love beautiful hotels? This is a small boutique hotel, very charming.

This is the breakfast buffet, and me in the mirror...I took a few 'mirror' pictures so that I would be in my vacation photos.

Two days through others' eyes, August 2007

Thursday August 2 was our second anniversary of the move to Verona, and we were...each in our own way...having a Peggy Lee 'Is this all there is?' moment. Then Sally and John from New York arrived.

New friends (Angel had met John once years ago, through cycling), they were in Verona for Friday and Saturday. Showing them around Verona let me see the city through their eyes, and refreshed my own view.

We walked and talked for hours. Angel and I skipped taking them to museums and churches, thinking it best to leave that to them and instead choosing to show them the streets and courtyards and views of the city. The four of us had great meals, told funny stories and laughed a lot.

I get caught up in the daily rituals of life. Visitors to Verona sometimes ask me (thank you, Sally and John, for not asking this annoying question)...'Well, what do you do all day?' I try to answer...I go grocery shopping, to the butcher, to the frutti vendola, to the cleaners, we go out for coffee and brioche in the morning, take our morning walk, we clean the apartment, take care of our balcony and terraza plants, play with the cats, sit in a park, have a gelato, plan trips, go to the Lake, relax (we are RETIRED, people!)...but wait! that is the wrong answer.

From now on, I will say...'I supervise the maid while she cleans and straightens up, I give the cook her instructions, what to buy for the next two days, I have lunch with the ladies, I peel grapes and eat chocolate'...oh, I forgot, I'M the maid and cook. Angel does the heavy lifting. My bad.

I think the questions they WANT to ask are really, What is retirement like? Is living in a foreign country what you expected? How is it different? But the easy question is 'What do you do all day?' When Angel and I were planning this move, he would ask me, What are you going to do differently in Italy? And I would answer, I'll be doing the same things but I'll be in Italy. I thought the obvious difference was rather profound.

Angel is doing the same things that he did in New Jersey, cycling, cycling, cycling...but instead of riding to the Delaware Water Gap and back, he is riding Mont Ventoux, Alp d'Huez, Izoard, Galibier, a week in the Puglia, a week cycling around Corsica, etc etc. Instead of the Memorial Day Tour d'Somerville, he is in the VIP tent at the Tour de France. But that's his story.

Instead of going to Cape May for a week in August (though enjoyable), I'm going to Paris, Vienna, London, Lugano, Venice whenever I like. Instead of our daughter coming to dinner, she comes to Verona and we have her all to ourselves for a week or ten days, and I take her shopping. Fun, fun, fun. Our lives are the same but totally different.

So to be taken out of the routine by a surprise visit by friends I hadn't yet met, that is a good thing. It didn't hurt that the weather was perfect, not too hot for August, no humidity, breezes. And it was especially good that Sally and John are such delightful company...they are funny real people, with tons of enthusiasm for life and the native New Yorker's edge and wit, no holds barred.

I saw the city again, in all its beauty. Thank you, Sally and John. Come back sometime.

Vienna, May 2007

Angel told me to pick a place for our next trip and I chose Vienna. It sounds romantic...Tales of the Vienna Woods, waltzes, Strauss, that kind of thing. So we flew there, staying in the center of the city opposite St. Stephen's Cathedral (Stephansdom) at the Haus Haus Building in the Do & Co Hotel http://www.doco.com/hotel/. Stephansdom, built between 1147 and 1511, sits across a plaza from modern buildings; this juxtaposition somehow works, and each enhances the other. All over Vienna, there is the ancient next to the very modern.

Vienna was the home of the Secessionist Movement of 1897-1939. The most well-known artist to me is Gustav Klimt, and we were fortunate enough to see many of his works while in Vienna.

The history of the Hapsburg Empire dominates Vienna. Somehow I must have speed-read this part of my education in European history. I saw the state apartments of the Empress Sisi, who was the victim of an Italian anarchist assassin in 1898. She was a target of opportunity, just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The museum devoted to her is fascinating. The representational fragments of her poetry suggest a modern woman ahead of her time.

The most fun thing we did, every morning, was take our hotel breakfast voucher to Cafe Demel and have whatever we wanted. Its not a far stretch from a brioche to a dessert for breakfast. We ate outside every morning, it was great. The photo above is of the Demel kitchen, making sachertorte.

The most interesting thing to me was the Hundertwasser-Karina House. An organic apartment building, a grand experiment, begun in1979 as a municipal housing project. http://www.hundertwasserhaus.info/ Check this out, it's amazing.

I'm glad we went to Vienna.

Americanness, Part 2...trade-offs

Some thoughts have been rolling around in my mind.

A few of the differences between Italy and America...

there are a planetful, these are simply representative, the tip of the iceberg...

Italy: low wages (1000 Euro a month average for an office job), great food, long lunch breaks; extended families, predictable work hours, no social mobility; young adults trapped by the economy into living at home well into their 30s, late marriages and the lowest birth rate in Europe; endless laws and regulations, spurning of same, admiration of being 'furbo'...the ability to be (from the American point-of-view) sneaky and devious in order to get around burdensome laws. Italy is an ask-permission society. A throwing up of the hands, a shrug of the shoulders, a grudging acceptance of the status quo.

America: high wages, average food (from the point-of-view of an American living in Italy who now appreciates fresh unadulterated food), 15 minute lunches at your desk; dispersed families, 60-hour-workweeks in corporate America, the-sky-is-the-limit social mobility; young adults expected to leave home by their early 20s, four years of college and you're out; marriage after college, growing families; a nation of laws...we are taught, brainwashed, not to litter, not to park in no-parking spots, blah blah blah...we have police who enforce our laws. America is a do-it-and-ask-forgiveness-later society. Seeing something that is not right, taking action to change it. Finding injustice, taking action to change it.

Our Italian friends always ask, 'Which is better, America or Italy? Italy, true?' I have always answered 'not better, only different'. But, all-in-all, I have to say that my native's appreciation of America, the United States, has reasserted itself in the two years I have lived in Italy. We in the States have many seemingly insurmountable problems...immigration, lack of universal health care, safety of our Ports, aging infrastructure, a debtor society, cultural decline, damaged standing in the world community thanks to GW...the list if long. However, and this is huge, our system works, its slow, but it works. We have mechanisms to solve problems and historically have always done so. A modern democracy is cumbersome, and may grind to a halt at times, but it corrects itself and gets going again.

So, despite the flaws, despite my frustrations over the choices my fellow Americans have at times made, I cast my vote unashamedly, unabashedly, positively, without hestitation for America. Am I naive? I don't think so. Am I being unfashionable? I don't care. There seems to be a lack of hope for the future in Italy. I still think that Americans have hope for their futures. I came here thinking that I would find answers in 'Old Europe', and I think that I have.

We spent an incredible day yesterday showing new American friends the city of Verona. Beautiful weather, a 'ten best' day, sitting on an historic bridge by a castle, a real musician with an accordian playing a mix of American standards and old Italian songs nearby...it doesn't get any better than that. But this is not my country, this is an experience in my life. I will enjoy it to the fullest, I will always have these memories, but someday...maybe three or four or five years from now... I will go home. Someday I'll be ninety (I hope) with no regrets.