Tag: friends

Pane e vino Vino e pane

This is an interesting book, seventy years old but there are parts of it that seem to be talking about where we are today. A classic Italian story from WW2. By Ignazio Silone who was born Secondo Tranquilli but had to write under a pen name to keep out of the clutches of the Fascists. My copy is the 1962 re-edited version of the 1935 original. It is an anti war book in a sense, certainly a book that refuses to glorify or glamorize war. It shows the futility of blindly and illogically following the crowd whether politically, religiously, or any other way. Considering Silone himself was in exile for years and that the Fascists beat and tortured his brother to death, this was a calm, considered book. Maybe a bit bleak, but not totally hopeless. Close. But he made his points.

Here’s the general plot: The protagonist, Pietro Spina has lost his faith in religion and has become a sought after Communist fugitive. Like the author, he is in exile, but the main character of the book risks it all and comes back to work in the underground resistance. After almost dieing from the rigors of his clandestine re-entry into the country, Pietro hides in plain sight as Don Paulo Spada, a cranky priest recovering from a serious illness. I liked the Robbing Pietro to Pay Paulo first names he chose for his main character. And the last names too. The radical politician was a mere rose spine (Spina) while the small town priest was a more war-like sword (Spada). The book goes along in a complicated, what-the-heck-is-going-on vein for a while. To me anyway. And I will admit, I set it aside as preachy and political, several times. But yesterday, I read the last chapters and found it all came together in a well thought out way.

Here’s what motivated me to pick up the thread and follow it to the ending: I was working in the yard when our friend Gail stopped to invite us to dinner. She and Midge are directors of Spannocchia the non profit estate outside Siena. “It is just a We Love Italy Dinner” she said. “Pot luck”. I asked what we could bring. Knowing we’ve been a bit under the weather (all better now, thanks) she evidently took pity on us and gave us The Easy Out. “Bread” she said “and maybe wine”. I knew what she meant. But I also knew I had to finish the book. I had to bring her wine and bread and “Bread and Wine”.

Wiley has arrived.

I’m 31 days and counting,

See you in Italy,

Stew

NEXT STOP, UMBRIA. GOING DUTCH?

To quote the Italian designer Valentino: “ . . . I must go. It is not convenient. Perhaps it is not right. But this garden must be seen. There are many things you have to do in life, but you cannot ignore the roses.

We typically go to Umbria via London or Munich or Paris. But London is having a jet fuel issue and threatening to raise Cain with flights originating in the US. Airline pouting and politics. So, maybe this time, we are thinking, we will go via Amsterdam. Kind Dutch people have emailed us here at SeeYouInItaly extolling the charms of their town outside Amsterdam named Vreeland. Never been there. Never got the Tshirt. But the perfect meld of Dutch and Italian is happening now in honor of the 400th anniversary of Rembrandt’s birth and one of the highlights of the celebration is a massive Rembrandt—Carravaggio show at the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. That has to Gogh on our list. And then, la nostra cara Panicale. To see how my Umbrian roses do grow. This photo was taken last April by our good friends the Lambarts, from Steamboat Springs, Colorado. Nico and I have been tending these roses for several years but I have only seen them in bloom, in photos. Hope to correct that this year!

To quote the Italian designer Valentino: “ . . . I must go. It is not convenient. Perhaps it is not right. But this garden must be seen. There are many things you have to do in life, but you cannot ignore the roses. When they demand to be seen, one simply has no choice but to go to them.” Words to live by, whenever possible.

Typical day in the Neighborhood? Only in Italy

PANICALE, UMBRIA—We are high up on a hill in Umbria, way off the chart or the map in most cases. But it is not even unusual to see car rallies roar into town and surprise us all with a quick half hour car show. We saw a gaggle of classic race cars from the 30’s one time. And we have seen this sort of Ferrari rally multiple times.

PANICALE, UMBRIA—We are high up on a hill in Umbria, way off the chart or the map in most cases. But it is not even unusual to see car rallies roar into town and surprise us all with a quick half hour car show. We saw a gaggle of classic race cars from the 30’s one time. And we have seen this sort of Ferrari rally multiple times. So not in Kansas anymore, Dorthy. The routes of these rallies are always unannounced, always fun. They are timed and very precise rallies and so they do not let out the schedule till the last second. Die hards would cheat and practice the route ahead of time to get an edge.

I walked into the piazza and was happy to see this visual feast, but at the same time all panicked because, for once, Bad Stew, I did not have my camera with me. My friend Biano, the town barber said No Problem as he was shooting up a storm anyway. A few days later he handed me an envelope of huge 6 x 8 inch glossy prints. Is this a great country or what?! He wrote the details of the extra slick red coupe down for me. So, when you are trying to find the exact thing on eBay later, you will be bidding on the right model. He says it is the classic 1960 Ferrari 275GTB4. Guess-timated value? You know what they say, if you have to ask . . . but here it is anyway: 750,000. And friends that is EUROS.

Grazie Mille, Biano! Tu sei troppo gentile, come sempre!

See you in Italy!

Stew

Ah, Siena. Ah, Spannocchia. (A Wiley Report)

At an hour and half away from Panicale, Spannocchia , is just far enough away to feel like a mini vacation and just barely far enough away that you can rationalise spending the night. The drive there is easy and really it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t. We’d go anyway!

SIENA, TUSCANY—How do I love Siena, I couldn’t possibly count the ways. So when Erin, our friend at Spannocchia, just outside Siena, invited me to come stay the night I was beyond excited. Erin is the director of the foundation there. She is also our neighbor in Italy and in Maine!

At an hour and half away from Panicale, Spannocchia , is just far enough away to feel like a mini vacation and just barely far enough away that you can rationalise spending the night. The drive there is easy and really it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t. We’d go anyway!

This grand AgriCultural estate sits atop over 11,000 acres and includes a castle, a major villa, a chapel and lots of interesting and original farmhouses, a classic Medieval Tuscan hilltop community, in short. We have definitely written about Spannocchia before. Here is a Siena/Spannocchia blog from this time last year. But it is just so amazing I want a whack at it, too . . .

Note from Stew:
the photo above can be clicked on to see it in enlarged form.

When I was 13, my family went to Italy for two months. As I said, I was 13, it was the end of eighth grade — I would be missing eighth grade graduation!! Now I was not completely upset about the missing school situation, but foreign countries are scary and/ or boring when you have no idea what you’re doing, where you’re going or what you’re looking at and what people are saying.

But something special happened in Sienna and at Spannocchia. It was all just so pretty, so calm and dream like in its simplicity and elegance, with such amazing history and a great sense of fun. In Sienna it was the Duomo’s Piccolo Uomini Library that captured my heart, at Spannocchia? Pizza Night!

Now, nearly 10 years later, I had never been to Spannocchia for any other night except for Pizza Night. So when Erin emailed and asked if I would come on a Monday (pizza nights are Wednesdays) of course I said YES!

Between Italian class, webpages and phone calls that followed me literally up to the gates of Spannocchia I was definitely ready for some of Spannocchia’s white wine to empty my mind on the terrace before moving on to the official pre-dinner drinks, -Red, this time- in front of the fire.

Then dinner. It started out with Ribolita, a Tuscan, twice-boiled, vegetable and bread soup that seems to warm your insides as soon as you look at it. Of course totally enough for a meal on its own, but true to Italian form, we were literally just getting warmed up. It was followed by their own thin, succulent, pork filets, little cakes with pine nuts, limoncello and huge amounts of laughter.

After dinner we gathered back in front of the fire to see all the pictures from Spannocchia’s last batch of visitors, this is an annual group that includes Erin’s parents Gail and Peter, that goes to Spannocchia in order to continues the rescue and restoration work on “The English Garden”. This year a highlight was a woman from Maine helping everyone make animal statues out of pine needles and branches including a set of wild boars.


Then it was time for bed, but I’m sorry, I just can’t sleep. Why? Because it has started to rain, and when I say rain I mean it is pouring buckets out there. Y’know how you count between the thunder and lightning to see how far away the storm is? Well, that storm was right over us, directly over us, and it just would not budge. The windows were rattling, the shudders were shaking, it was loud and it lasted all night. But it felt kind of nice to be in this big all- weather, weathering castle and snuggling under the duvet listening to the rain as I eventually drifted off to sleep.

After breakfast the next morning of yogurt and muesli, hard boiled eggs and coffee lots of coffee, I swam down the road and back to Panicale, canceling house viewings along the way, and wishing I had another week, another lifetime to stay at Spannocchia.

. . . THE NEXT DAY

Aldo is in his cups. In quiet moments he is washing up a lifetime of Sunday coffee cups, when one jumps straight up out of his hands and does a suicide swan dive onto the hard, cruel floor below. Not again. What can we say? It has been a funny, full moon kind of day. Well, funny unless you happen to be one of Aldo’s coffee cups or Prosecco glasses, of course. And I guess you would have to say, it been a smashing day for them, too.

PANICALE, UMBRIA— Today’s fun was hanging with a group of Australians in the piazza. Saw Emma and Luca going by after church let out and finally got to meet ”la contessa” Luca’s cool, Mamma from Sarzanna. Our table is positively full of Sunday morning Prosecco drinkers, . . . and . . . here comes reinforcements! Oops. One hits the ground. Aldo? Dropping a glass? Later, instead of letting him clear off the tables we decided to be really helpful and brought our glasses in with us and Wiley tumbles one. Here comes the broom again. Aldo laughs and sweeps us all toward the door — Everyone go home to lunch! Please. Which we all, obediently, do.

Now, lunch over, I’m in the garden, but I’m going to put down my pencil and just doze in this patch of sunshine. Just. Sit. Very. Still. Like my new role model. That lizard on the plum tree’s branch a few feet away. He thinks I can’t see him. And I barely can. But it is just the two of us. Absorbing the absolute last bit of today’s solar energy.

Ten minutes later:

Pssst. Wiley. Wiley? Want to go for a late afternoon walk after your nap? Wiley? Guess that would be a no.

LA LUNA ERA PIENA. AND IT WAS A FULL MOON TOO.

More Cuckoo. Less Swallow. Actually, no swallows at all. They are so omnipresent in Summer. Hard to think of them as seasonal, fair-weather tourists, like us. Their visual acrobatics are nicely replaced by the gentle coo-coo’ing of the cuckoos that you hear but never see. Oh. There is Wiley. Did I wake you up?

Early evening, the weather still grand, we took a lap around town, took a couple sunset photos of the town. Happens every time. We walk, we get thirsty. We end up at Aldo’s where he pours us some drinks as we lean on the polished metal bar. Fresh squeezed combo of orange and grapefruit juice only, I promise! Finally, the crowd has died down and it is just us. And Aldo is in his cups. In quiet moments he is washing up a lifetime of Sunday coffee cups, when one jumps straight up out of his hands and does a suicide swan dive onto the hard, cruel floor below. Not again. What can we say? It has been a funny, full moon kind of day. Well, funny unless you happen to be one of Aldo’s coffee cups or Prosecco glasses, of course. And I guess you would have to say, it been a smashing day for them, too.