TRAVEL HINTS FOR THE LONG HAUL TRAVELER

ITALY, UMBRIA . . . AND BEYOND — First of all, I am not a total straight line kind of guy. I try to be organized, but ten minutes after I have cleaned the garage, my office, anything, I’ve got everything all stirred up again. I’m a mass of carefully controlled confusion at most times, but total chaos reigns when I am traveling. Keys for Maine, keys for Italy, driver’s license, passport, international driver’s license, plane tickets, whoa. . where DID I put those tickets? So many things to take with on a trip. Or not take. Finally cured myself of donating a Swiss Army knife to the security guards every, single, trip. That took awhile.

Ok, Hint One. Hey, the bulk of us are not immigrating when we go abroad. It is just a trip for heaven’s sake. Are we going to places totally without stores? Well, I hope not. But, you would never know it from the freezer-sized pieces of luggage I see so many people checking in. I hope my daughters are both reading this. The stuff they will bring for a weekend should come by truck or cargo ship containers. But anyway, I’ll just say it: I hate waiting for bags to come off the carousel after a long trip. Only thing worse? When they don’t come off the carousel and you have to go describe your precious cargo and hope it really does eventually arrive and they really do bring it to you, before your vacation is over. But the waiting is wearisome. And your mind is racing as you are pacing. How long will the taxi lines be? Will all of these people be cueing up ahead of me? Will my ride wait for me? Will the last bus come and go while I am cooling my heels here? Customs. Look at the line growing over there.

So. I take one small, but light and efficient, wheeled suitcase. End of story. One. After a lot of false starts and inopportune choices, mine now happens to be this vaguely purple one from L.L. Bean. We ARE from Maine, afterall. Yes, this is not an ad. Think they probably have plenty of business as it is. But this is a nice bag. We have actually got plenty of dumb bags at Beans, as well. This just doesn’t happen to be one. This one works. Light, simple, efficient. Typical, wheeled bag big enough, or actually, small enough to qualify as carry on.

When I get off a bus or out of my car, I pull out my bag, I lift up the pull handle on it and loop my laptop bag’s hand straps over the pull handle. Totally obvious concept, everyone does it. For good reason. That way, the pull bag can carry my laptop. And not me. And then, I’m off like a shot. Traveling light. And since I am not waiting in line, ever, for random bags on the carousel, it DOES matter, if I am early off the plane. So, I ask for seats on the aisle and toward the front as a matter of course. Not THE front. That’s for babies. You don’t want to be there. Just sort of toward the front. When the plane lands, I can be through the airport, past customs and on the bus headed north to Portland while people from my flight are still milling around hoping their bags made the same trip. And it works coming in, too. On this trip, there were hundreds of people in line, out-going. The Air France guy that presorts you as you get in line and makes sure you are on at least the right airline, on the right day, saw me and my carry-on only, and waved me out of a line of literally 2-300 people and into a line of two people. I was number two. Living lite and living large.

Once through with check-in, I head for a wash room and put my belt with metal buckle, wristwatch with big metal band, coins, ANYthing metal into a pocket of my laptop or small wheeled bag and I go through security like nobody’s business. I’m squeaky clean and they rarely ever look twice at me. And I do what they say and not act all surprised at the last second. If they want laptops out, have them out. Shoes off? Same deal. I was through check-in and security in maybe 10 minutes. In Boston, Mass, with throngs of people going the same direction as me. I win! I win!

FLIGHT JACKET? GO AHEAD: PICK A POCKET, ANY POCKET.

Hint Two For some un-recalled reason, someone at our office had flagged an article for me from the WSJ and I took it home to read. My attention wavered and then wandered over to the ad next to the article. Very homemade looking, cartoon-y ad talking about this magic sportcoat. At least that is what I call it. Duluth Trading Company has it. And now, thanks to the internet, I have it. I am from the Midwest and I think Duluth is in the Midwest too. Minnesota, maybe? But I had never heard of this company. I don’t know if it is a fashion statement or not, but I’ve seen worse in the airports. You sweatsuit wearing people know who you are. Yes, I am talking to you. Anyway, this coat is Denim and it is lined. Way soft. But here is what got me: pockets, pockets, pockets. Deep ones, big ones, small ones, pockets hidden inside pockets, zip top, flap top, open top. This was its first trip and I used it day in and day out. Totally passed the travel test. I thought I was going to be, at one point, a wild life photographer vest wearing kind of guy. Got the vest, wasn’t that kind of guy after all. I put it on, I hung it back in the closet. This sportcoat, on the other hand, works for me.

In the airport, passports and tickets go in a big inside pocket. Note pad and pencil in a big outside pocket. The paperback I’m reading goes in another. I’ve got what I need during the flight, on me. I pack the rest of the stuff up over head and never look back. During the days and nights around town, I’d shove my clunky old camera, (digi, but old and big as a couple cans of Spam) into one pocket, cell phones in another and I am ready to go, knowing I had my minimum requirement of Stuff, my security blanket.

It helps me maintain my number one travel rule. Be prepared. Prepared for the moment that may never come again. At least have your camera and a note pad with you at all times. Even if you are ”just going for a quick coffee, dear”.

Writing this, right now the jacket is on my lap defending me from the Air France Air Conditioning. So, now it’s a security blanket, with pockets. And no, this is not an ad either. I know it may sound like one, but believe me when I say there was no money in any of the pockets when I got it and Duluth’s computer thanked me in an email for being a valued new customer. So, I paid them vs the other way around. I’m just saying what works for this guy after a million three hundred trips, might work for someone else somewhere down the road.

Uh, oh. Company Coming.

I tell Daniel to take a nap- and head out- and I feel relaxed, until I see my knuckles are white and my jaws clenched- ok relax girl, there is no traffic and its easy- stay focused- don’t look at the clocks that say 3.30- eeek!

This is another WileyReport. This was a lost file from last month’s September Grape Harvest festival.

Today- I did two loads of dishes, one of laundry, spruced up the whole house, took out the trash- please tell me I put it in the right dumpster! Swept the garden, scraped all the dropped figs of the ground- there were bucket loads. And buckets more appeared as soon as I had finished. Went to Castiglione del lago for gas and phone money. Worked on a web page.
Went to the piazza and struggled through a conversation with Simone at the bar to ask if there was music in town tonight- there wasn’t -but no matter, but I understood what he said and tonight I go to Bertonni to see Celia.
But man was I tired- never underestimate how long chores can take- if you’re not really sure what you’re doing!

I was just heading over to Celia’s to watch a folk music concert- which actually turned out to be a comedy play and town Cena! When I found a note on my door saying PAULETTE WAS IN TOWN!!!! YEAH!!!!!! The gray clouds don’t matter- life is good I got another party buddy, and an arty, fun up for anything one at that! So I make my way down to her door- and ambush poor, fresh-from-San Francisco-via-a-week-in-Paris, Paulette into coming with to Celia’s- and of course she was up for it. We went to a great Cena (town dinner of Pici and Duck) near Celia’s and then headed home before it got to late, only to go back to Paulette’s and stay up drinking wine and talking until 3.00! Excuse me- how did that happen?! (photo is the kitchen ladies in their official shower caps resting post cena . . .near Bertoni. By Paulette and her trusty Sidekick cell phone)

Then Friday was the day of reckoning- More tidying, more website, at 6.00 Paulette came over for some snacks and wine- and to send me on my way to Rome- alone- to pick up Daniel. OH MAN! Well the drive there was fine; I made it all the way, with surprisingly good radio, and little traffic. Daniel got it at 12.45 from London we were on our way back by 1.00- late but fine.

. . . And then our trip took a little detour! Well, y’know it is such an easy ride back from Rome, and it really is, especially in the daytime- but at night there are a lot of things you took for granted in the day.

Like it’s only my 5th day driving in Italy. I’m driving a new car (see photos) that has loads of new dash instruments, a little distracting green light in the rear view mirror, a massive overhead skylight. Italian direction signs that look different at night. Loads of twists and turns, and an exit that goes straight! While the main road takes a jagged badly signed veer. Then when you take that exit, and realize it seconds too late, because its easy to see in the day, but invisible at night, you think you’ll be able to just hop right back on…oh no! You drive 20 minutes until you see a hotel, run in and teach your boyfriend how to say- bona sera, parla inglese? Oh thank goodness the answer is yes! He tells us how to get back onto the main rd. where I see a sign for the airport and think ’ forget it I’m starting over’! So back at Fiumicino we begin again. I tell Daniel to take a nap- and head out- and I feel relaxed, until I see my knuckles are white and my jaws clenched- ok relax girl, there is no traffic and its easy- stay focused- don’t look at the clocks that say 3.30- eeek! But we make our way back and are home by 5.00 am. When Daniel suggests I open my birthday presents! Yeah! I feel my second wind! So we do that, and they are all great! Really lovely and I even got a jacket which I needed as it’s a touch cold and rainy lately, but never mind that, because after all the excitement of the night before- we are ready for the Festa!!!

High over the Alps headed to Umbria

Andrea pointed to a table for two. And says I put you right by the heater on this cold night. Really? The little gold “Reserved” sign is for moi? Kind of choked me up. I feel the love. I feel the love, praise the Lord, we have made it to the Promised Land once more!

Leaving on a jet plane. Yeah. All systems Go. Going. Gone. We slipped the gravitational pull of Logan International in Boston and a couple random movies and rubbery raviolis later I was rushing through DeGaulle in Paris. Shortly after Paris I was up in the air over the Alps and the next thing I knew I was getting into a taxi in Chiusi, Italy and saying “Panicale, per piacere”. I found Wiley! She looks great, the house looks great, even in the cloudy rainy weather. I managed to stay up till real Italian dinnertime to get on myself sort of on Italian time and then we treated ourselves to dinner at Masolino’s, next door to our house.

They had a table reserved – in case I wanted to come – because they knew I was landing that day! Can you believe? Andrea pointed to a table for two. And says I put you right by the heater on this cold night. Really? The little gold “Reserved” sign is for moi? Kind of choked me up. I feel the love. I feel the love, praise the Lord, we have made it to the Promised Land once more! We ate the food, we drank the wine. I came home, fell into bed and slept the sleep of the seriously jetlagged. Except for a few minutes in the dead middle of the night. Where the heck am I? Did I say it was raining? It took some doing waking me from the coma-like state that I was in. But this was a wild and wooly midnight gully washer. Very freaky Friday weather this fall. We were here all last September and it was shorts and tee shirts in the garden till sunset everyday. Into each life.

But that was Friday. OK, that was yesterday too. But Today is another day. It is literally Sun Day in Sunny Italy. Sun on the rooftops, sun in the sparkling raindrops still hanging on the tip of every tree leaf. Sun in the Piazza. And, why there’s my daughter in the Piazza too. We had cappuccinos and watched the world go by and then had them all over again. And then, the bells began to ring and the village church at the top of the piazza poured a lava flow of wedding goers out and over the sun drenched piazza. We had to think All is Right with The World. I may even go home and garden for a while. I think I will.

Can not wait. Non vedo l’ora!

What to do, what to do? Dinner at Masolino’s first? Or coffee and hot gossip at Aldo’s? It is like the old Seinfeld program. A show about nothing. We never know what a trip to Umbria will have in store for us.

Finally. It is my turn to pack up the laptop and head off to the airport. Pilot, head this rig east to Italy! Can’t wait to see daughter, Wiley. She is the legendary Wiley Traveler. Anxious to see what adventures she has had. And together see all our old friends and new property listings! What to do, what to do? Dinner at Masolino’s first? Or coffee and hot gossip at Aldo’s? It is like the old Seinfeld program. A show about nothing. We never know what a trip to Umbria will have in store for us. I always try to stay open and flexible but things always flood in from all sides, time evaporates and I will be back on a plane headed west long, long before I will want to be. But, in the meantime, I fully expect to enjoy every moment to the max.

Oh, I have to share this. No, this is not a photo taken on a back road of Umbria. But just something designed to give me quantum nostalgia for the back roads of Umbria. A perfect little purple Ape, separated at birth from its homeland and somehow, someway transported to an apple orchard in northern Maine? I slowed down, shook my head and turned right around on a side street in Portland, Maine when I saw this beauty. Vintage 1969. And who knows why they call these Apes and their cousins, the motor scooters, Vespas? You in the back. That is correct. It is because of the sound they make. Like Bees and Wasps, those Apes and Vespas buzz up and down the streets of Italy. And at least one street in Portland.

Allora, if you will be in Panicale in October, we will wave madly, and say . . .

See you in Italy!

Stew

WILEY’S FIRST LONG TERM VISIT: AND FIRST IMPRESSIONS

The blur began with finishing university in London (Yes, I have the papers to prove it!!). And coming home to Maine for SeeYouInItaly boot camp, and now I have landed in Italy again to ––– well–––to begin!

CENTRAL UMBRIA — Well, let’s see . . . where do I begin? Is today Wednesday? I have to admit the past couple of days– the past week– the past few months have been a blur. But now that blur is slowly starting to become a dream! The blur began with finishing university in London (Yes, I have the papers to prove it!!). And coming home to Maine for SeeYouInItaly boot camp, and now I have landed in Italy again to ––– well–––to begin!

Last week here was a crazy week full of cell phone buying, unpacking and learning how to drive here, there, and anywhere else, my mother and I could think of. But on Monday, lessons finished, and after dropping my mother off at the airport, I officially dropped down the rabbit hole.

First off, driving the three hours back from Rome by myself, with my father’s words firmly in my head ”When you pull out onto a road you are not pulling out onto a road in Maine, you’re pulling out into OMIGOD! ” Well, lucky for me I avoided all ’omigod’ situations on the way back, and only had a little bit of traffic and rainfall! And I have to say, it felt good, pulling into Panicale in my little car, heading to my little house, and knowing I got there on my own. I came in and made myself a big celebration dinner– pasta with pesto (and Italian gods don’t kill me– but I put a little Tabasco sauce in it too– my version of something old, something new,?!) also had some of the great farm fresh ricotta that the Spannocchia girls brought us from their tenuta outside Siena, mmmm was that nice, and yes Mom if you’re reading this, a green bean and tomato salad! Then at about 10:30 crawled into bed and passed out– talk about big girl!!!

GREEN HONEY. AND DATING HABITS OF BLUE HAIRED UMBRIANS

Yesterday I woke up facing blue skies outside my the window and my first day alone– what to do, what to do? Work? Well that would seem like the right thing to do, but luckily I was saved from my own good intentions by our friend Celia, from San Diego. Celia found a house on SeeYouInItaly several years ago, and today was looking for some company– and some BEES!! Sounded like good enough fun to me; so, met Celia in the piazza at noon and promptly got sidetracked!

It’s Orfeo that’ll do it every time. After a brief hello, Celia told him about her quest for a particular hand cream made from bee products – that quickly led to Orfeo running into his house, grabbing his car keys, and leading us down the hill to his friends ”they have the best honey– you don’t need to go to Chiusi! You come to them”!
And so we went and arrived at a large house on a little road off the main hill to Panicale where an older woman was sorting through a basket of freshly picked mushrooms– soon her husband had made his way out, and we had small plastic spoons of honey in our mouths– then slow and heavy steps outside heralded a surprisingly young son (and bee keeper) just as a daughter, grandmother and grandchild came driving in– and in all this mayhem we managed to come away with two jars of lovely dark honey!

After our nice little detour we headed over to Chiusi where Celia’s friend and owner of a fantastic restaurant in the old city, Simoneta, greeted us warmly, handed us wine and quickly saw to preparing us food. No real ordering. Melanzane was the vegetable of the day– so I heard that word being said, other than that– Celia knew what she was doing, so I just sat back and let her. After meat starters, pasta, and a warm bean and tomato salad– all superb– we rounded out the meal with pecorino and honey (surely to keep with theme) . . . Man oh man it was a feast!

Later, as we strolled back to the car, more likely waddled, I noticed a very interesting difference between Chiusi and Panicale– In Chiusi all the benches and door stoops were filled with women, all sitting and chatting, fanning themselves and petting cats, well, as anyone’s who’s visited Panicale knows, in our town this sight is very unusual, it’s the men who take up the benches– but in Chiusi no men were to be seen– am I seeing a dating show? Umbrian Bench Dating, I really think I’m onto something here!

While at Simoneta’s we had discovered the bee shop that Celia had been told was 3 km away was really an hour away– uh oh . . . However! On Sunday I had been to Cetona for the first time with our friends Peter and Shiranee—and at the base of a particularly striking church piazza I had noticed a very strange word–Apinare? I had asked peter–Ah. he said, To do with bees . . . . hmmm well, Cetona was only a touch away and also has a great pottery shop– so, no harm in checking right!

After directing Celia where to go (yeah I remembered! See I can do this Italy Stuff!) We walked into the main piazza in Cetona, a lovely long piazza, very different from a lot of places around this area, and made our way up to the Apinare e Erbologist. It was a small shop with loads of goodies! And a father daughter sales team, who once deciding we were there to buy turned out to be very knowledgeable and very helpful . . . and although they didn’t have exactly what Celia wanted, we both came out ladened with plenty of unneeded stuff! I myself some bee pollen, royal jelly, and some ear candles! Like I said, totally useless, but incredibly fun!

Then we headed back to Panicale, where we caught the last of the sunset– and then onto dishes, and finally unpacking– yes it isn’t all glamour I’m learning!

SOUNDS OF SILENCE. GOOD NIGHT, UMBRIA

And it’s a funny thing, I’ve gone to sleep in empty houses before, but I think there are normally 3 things that can go through someone’s head alone in the dark, the first, being am I safe, well the doors are locked, the windows shut– and oh wait, I’m in Panicale– so check that one off the list. The second, it’s an old house– are there ghosts? Well I distinctly get the feeling that there is no other inhabitant in the house, so that’s alright, but it is strange, not eerie, but strange– there is no noise, none whatsoever, the sound of a buzzing insect can actually make you jump as you read in bed. And if the window is open, there are sometimes voices that find their way in, but it is very serene, but strange– I’m used to wood houses– I’m used to sounds you have no idea what could be making them– I’m used to living in a creaky house in Maine on the side of a noisy highway with four other people—and let’s admit it guys, we’re all pretty loud! Not to mention living in a five person flat in London– talk about loud! And now, suddenly, I’m in bed surrounded by thick stone walls, a sleepy town, and my own thoughts. But somehow it is not a lonely experience– maybe it’s the circular shape of the city or seeing my parents’ touches on every wall or even remembering that on any given day this house has the potential to become Party Central, but it feels like a hug. A great big Italian Nonna hug! And sleep comes very easy.

Today I am Actually Doing Work!! Yeah, it’s all going well, with breaks to do dishes and sweep and weed the garden, and chase the cats! We have two new kittens, one black and one white that have decided that our garden is their home, truth be told I’m assuming they were born here–and yes they are cute– cute as newborn kittens, but, no, our garden is not their home, which is something that not one of the town’s cats understands! And on any given day can be found asleep on our garden posts or in the lavender. Now our cause is really not helped by the fact that our neighbors —we suspect– are throwing food into our garden for them. Now, we could be wrong, but finding a large bone on the stairs doesn’t really help their case! So you can probably find me every few hours running around like a mad woman, chasing a kitten that is too small for you to see from the street– I was always good at first impressions! But apparently I am good at mimicking the action because today at Linda’s market I was able to mime out the whole thing to Linda and the Lillianna and tell them all about the kittens and all the cats, and it was nice to get some sympathy– and know that when all else fails charades work in any language– and in Italy they especially enjoy a little descriptive song and dance!

So that’s where I am now– about to make some nice soup in a bag– they really are great! Watching a Beatles video on German MTV– and trying to figure out what the message my Italian phone just sent me actually means! So we shall see, we shall see, but there is a flamingo sunset on the horizon, and warm stone steps underfoot and although my Italian isn’t anywhere near communicable, a smile will get you far in Umbria, and I have one at the moment that I just can’t seem to wipe off my face.