• Contact
  • Elaborations
    • A Policeman’s View
    • Driving School Diary
    • Great Danes
    • IVA charged on Tassa Rifiuti
    • Nana
    • Old trains and Old weekends
    • The peasant, the virgin, the spring and the ikon
    • Will Someone Please, Please Take Me to Scotland??
  • Recipes
    • ‘Mbriulata
    • *Baked Barley and Mushroom Casserole*
    • *Captain’s Boston Baked Beans*
    • *Cherry Tart*
    • *Crimson Pie*
    • *Louise’s Birthday Cake*
    • *Melanzane alla Parmigiana* – Eggplant Parmesan
    • *Penne with Cabbage and Cream
    • *Pizzoccheri della Valtellina*
    • *Pumpkin Ice Cream*
    • *Risotto alla Bolognese*
    • *Rolled Stuffed Pork Roast* on the rotisserie
    • *Shrimp and Crayfish Tail Soup*
    • *Spezzatino di Vitello*
    • *Stuffed Grape Leaves*
    • *Swordfish with Salsa Cruda*
    • *Tagliarini with Porcini Mushrooms*
    • *Tagliatelli al Frutti di Mare*
    • *Tzatziki*
    • 10th Tee Apricot Bars
    • Adriana’s Fruit Torta
    • Artichoke Parmigiano Dip
    • Best Brownies in the World
    • Clafoutis
    • Cod the Way Sniven Likes It
    • Cold Cucumber Soup
    • Crispy Tortillas with Pork and Beans
    • Easy spring or summer pasta
    • Fagioli all’ucelleto
    • Fish in the Ligurian Style
    • Hilary’s Spicy Rain Forest Chop
    • Insalata Caprese
    • Kumquat and Cherry Upside Down Cake
    • Lasagna Al Forno con Sugo Rosato e Formaggi
    • Lemon Meringue Pie
    • Leo’s Bagna Cauda
    • Leo’s Mother’s Stuffed Eggs
    • Louis’s Apricot Chutney
    • Mom’s Sicilian Bruschetta
    • No-Knead Bread (almost)
    • Nonna Salamone’s Famous Christmas Cookies
    • Pan-fried Noodles, with Duck, Ginger, Garlic and Scallions
    • Pesto
    • Pesto
    • Pickle Relish
    • Poached Pears
    • Polenta Cuncia
    • Pumpkin Sformato with Fonduta and Frisee
    • Rustic Hearth Bread
    • Sicilian Salad
    • Soused Hog’s Face
    • Spotted Dick
    • Swedish Tea Wreaths
    • The Captain’s Salsa Cruda
    • Tomato Aspic
    • Vongerichten’s Spice-Rubbed Chicken with Kumquat-Lemongrass Dressing
    • Winter Squash or Pumpkin Gratin
    • Zucchini Raita

An Ex-Expatriate

~ and what she saw

An Ex-Expatriate

Category Archives: Photographs

Apache Trail in the Snow

21 Saturday Feb 2009

Posted by farfalle1 in Arizona, Driving in the U.S., Photographs, Travel, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Apache Trail, Arizona Route 88, Besh-ba-Gowah, Canyon Lake, Roosevelt Dam

apachemap

(Map courtesy of http://www.americansouthwest.net/arizona)

Last week it snowed here in Arizona.  No, not down here in the ‘Valley of the Sun,’ but in the Superstition Mountains and the peaks of the Tonto National Park.  The radio instructed us not to drive north for several days as many roads were impassable.  Exciting!

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We waited, as instructed, and then set out on the Apache Trail. What is it and how did it get that name? Briefly, according to Tom Kollenborn’s article on the Trail, the general path of the trail was used back in 900 AD by the Salado Indians.  Later the Apache Indians used it in raids against the peaceful Pima Indians who lived in the valley.

roosevelt-dam

Theodore Roosevelt Dam at the top of the trail was built from 1905-1911, and there was a need to connect the dam site at Roosevelt with the Valley towns of Mesa and Apache Junction.  The road was built from 1903-1905, but access was restricted until completion of the dam.  Ironically, the laborers for the road-building project were also Apache Indians.  Today the Apache Trail, also known as Arizona Route 88, is one of the loveliest roads in the state, but it is narrow and rugged. One end is in Apache Junction, and the other in Globe.

My pal Mary Ann and I set out at about 9 a.m., and got home sometime after 5 p.m., having covered only 150 miles.  We stopped briefly in Tortilla Flat, which is completely touristic and hilarious. (Steinbeck’s Tortilla Flat was in California.) It is full of visitors who have enjoyed the scenic ride past Canyon Lake; not many venture farther, especially when the road is under water. (!) Here’s a photo of the dollar-bill papered dining room of the small restaurant there.

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We especially wanted to visit Tonto National Monument on the other side of Roosevelt Dam, but didn’t get there until 2 p.m., and we were starving, having not seen a building since leaving Tortilla Flat.  Did I mention it’s a really isolated part of the world?  So we took a quick peek at the ancient cliff dwelling visible from the Visitors’ Center and motored on in search of a sandwich.

ruins-at-tonto-national-monument

After The Best Pre-Packaged Sandwich I Ever Ate we continued on to Globe where we visited the Besh-ba-Gowah ruins.  They are the remnants of a Salado settlement, dating from about 1200 AD. They have been well reconstructed, and one is able to walk through the settlement and imagine what it might have been like to live there 700 years ago. The visitor’s center is extremely interesting and there’s an excellent video and a museum stuffed with archaeological finds from the site.  Here’s a model of the ruins:

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Evidently they liked ladders.  The dark hole labled ‘central corridor’ was a long, dark hall that gave access to the areas within.  The ‘tree’ seems all out of proportion to me – it must have been huge.

It was a breath-takingly beautiful drive, especially the old road from Apache Junction to Roosevelt Dam.  If you’d like to see more photos, click here, or over on the right under Photographs – Apache Trail in the Snow. As always, I recommend the slide show. You will see there a rare shot that captures both the male AND female jackalope.

Cats and the Metro

06 Friday Feb 2009

Posted by farfalle1 in Arizona, Cats, Photographs, Travel, Uncategorized

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Cat show, Opening of Phoenix Light Rail, Phoenix cat show, Phoenix Light Rail, Phoenix Light Rail grand opening, Phoenix Metro

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But cats don’t like to ride on the metro, I hear you say. True. But no sooner did I grouse about the lack of good public transportation in the US than lo and behold! The Phoenix Light Rail system opened.  This is more like it!  The Metro offers a very inexpensive and convenient way to travel around metropolitan Phoenix, including outlying Tempe (home of Arizona State University) and a bit of Mesa.

The grand opening was on December 27-28, 2009.  As luck would have it the Captain and I were attending a cat show (I know.  But we like cats.), and we stumbled serendipitously into the gigantic street fair celebrating the opening just outside the Phoenix Convention Center.  As it turned out, there were festivities of one sort or another at almost all the major stops along the 20-miles of Metro.

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It took twelve years to build the system, and it was gravely inconvenient for many businesses and residents during construction.  But now, everyone seems well pleased. The Metro web site gives all the information you could need to take advantage of this service.  The fares are ridiculously low – $2.50 will buy you an all-day pass, which includes some amount of bus transfer.  If you’re over 65 your day-pass costs only $1.25.  There are Park and Ride lots at many stations which offer free parking during the Metro’s hours of operation.

In addition, some fun blogs have sprung up around Light Rail: RailLife.com, Blogs about Phoenix Lightrail, and my favorite, found by the now-famous Mrs. Harris (bread, pumpkin ice cream), PHX Rail Food, which is a great guide for places to eat within easy walking distance of each Metro stop. You Are Here gives an urban stroller’s guide to metro Phoenix, with guides to culture, shopping, sports, events, dining and nightlife all along the Route.

Speaking of Mrs. Harris, she had the brilliant idea that we should take a day and ride the Metro from one end (Sycamore and Main in Mesa) to the other (Montebello and 19th Ave. in Phoenix).  So that is exactly what we did a while ago, and it was loads of fun.  We met a lot of people, all of whom were pleasant and chatty.  We stopped in Tempe for a walk-around and ended up giving our opinion on speed radar on the freeways for a PBS show (our 15 seconds of fame). Then we took a mid-day break and visited the Phoenix Art Museum where, in addition to walking through several exhibits, we ate a delightful lunch.

tickets
We rode to the end of the line, then jogged to the other track and rode straight back to where we began.

If you’re interested in some photographs of both the cat show and the festivities outside the Convention Center at the Metro’s opening, click here, or over on the right under Photographs (Cat Show and Rail Opening)(You’ll see that I was fascinated by the break dancing.).

If you’re interested in some of the sights along the Metro, click here, or over on the right under Photographs (Riding the Light Rail).  These photographs are in three sections: sights along the rail ride, people we met, and some of the art at the Metro stops (each stop has at least one piece of art incorporated in its design).

And if you need to get your cat somewhere, you can probably take her on the Light Rail, but she’ll have to be in a cat-carrier.  She might even enjoy the journey! We did.

rail pics

cat show and rail opening pics

Gee Whiz!

19 Friday Dec 2008

Posted by farfalle1 in Photographs, Uncategorized

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Mail, Post, U.S. Postal Service

Disclaimer – this is another postal post.  But I can’t resist writing it because I mail-truckam completely amazed.

Those of you living in the States full time are probably accustomed to such miraculous service, but I am left with my mouth agape, saying Gee Whiz over and over again.

I had five Christmas boxes to mail off, and dreaded going to the Post Office.  When I went to the USPO web site to research what it would cost to mail my packages I discovered that I wouldn’t have to go to the Post Office at all; the Post Office would come to me.

That’s not quite true; I had to go to the Post Office to pick up Priority Mail boxes in which to ship the goodies.  But they’re free – which means I didn’t have to stand in the long holiday line to pay for them.  I simply walked in, took what I needed and walked out. I have to admit, I expected bells to ring and policemen to run out to arrest me for stealing.  But no.

AND there is a flat rate for mailing these priority-rate boxes.  A large box costs $12.50 to mail to a US destination, and a smaller box $9.30.  It doesn’t matter how much it weighs, as long as it’s less than 70 pounds (you couldn’t get 70 pounds in those boxes unless you’re mailing gold, which I don’t recommend).

So I packed my boxes, went online, printed mailing labels and postage, paid online with a credit card, attached the labels to the boxes (I used plain paper and clear packing tape), made an online request for pick-up and that was that.  This morning I put the boxes by my front door and when I returned from errands they were gone.  In their place was a receipt from the mail carrier. They will be delivered from California to Vermont and points in between in 2-3 days.  And I can track them.

The only way they could improve the service, I think, would be to do the shopping for me and pay for the presents.  Maybe next year?

n.b. Reader Giovanni sent in a very useful comment which said, in part,

“Shall we tell to ours readers that in Italy we have a PostaCelere? You go to the Post Office buy your standard package and send it for a 10-30 euro. Your package will be delivered in 24-48 hrs in any civilized location worldwide.”

I didn’t want this very helpful information to be buried in comments.  I had no idea this service was available in Italy and am happy to know about it.

Culture Shock X 2

22 Saturday Nov 2008

Posted by farfalle1 in Customs, Italian habits and customs, Italy, Law and order, Photographs, Travel

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

culture shock, German habits and customs, Lufthansa, Mainz Germany

You know the old joke: In heaven the French are the cooks, the Italians are the lovers, the Germans are the engineers, and the English are the diplomats; in hell the Germans are the lovers, the English are the cooks, the Italians are the engineers and the French are the diplomats.  Flying from Italy to spend a couple of nights in historic Mainz, Germany on the banks of the Rhine made us think of that.

Our first indication that we were in the Land of Precision was the airplane trip itself.  We had a 20-minute connection in Munich to catch a flight to Frankfurt.  Lufthansa had a van waiting for us when our first flight ended which whisked us to the other side of the airfield and our second flight.  Amazing.  Meanwhile, in Rome a friend was enduring a 5-hour delay for his Alitalia flight and, needless to say, he missed all his ensuing connections.  We can only say that if you have the choice between Lufthansa and other carriers, you won’t regret choosing the former.

Some things were remarkably similar, for instance, the market, where only the mittens and heavy jackets told us we were no longer on the Riviera:

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Mittens, jackets, and, oh jawohl! the background:

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That is the Dom, the great central cathedral of old Mainz.

The good burghers live on the other side of the platz:

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When we left Rapallo the Christmas lights were just being strung across the streets and wound around the palm trees.  In Mainz, too, Christmas was definitely in the air:

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Big trees like the one behind this fountain were being placed in all the main squares.  And what says “Christmas” in Germany more than this?

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Good as the Italians are at most things culinary, they have not yet mastered the gingerbread house, or, for that matter, the angry Santa.  What is wrong with him?? Must be those pesky elves misbehaving again.

Speaking of gingerbread, you don’t see many houses like this in Italy:

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But above all, the culture shock of being in Germany was the cleanliness and order that was all around. Italians are more casual about such things.  What exemplified it best for us was the difference in airport trash receptacles.  In the Genova airport they are here and there, and on the floor around them is evidence of well-intentioned but careless effort.  In the Frankfurt airport on the other hand, the trash receptacles look like this:

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They are almost frightening.

Part Two of culture shock was arriving at the Dallas/Fort Worth Airport in Texas. We flew on American Airlines which was comfortable, on time, and staffed with very pleasant flight attendants.  America!  We were honest citizens and, on the customs form, said Yes to the question, ‘are you bringing food with you.’  Our punishment was to be sent to the Agriculture Inspection Area where a long line awaited processing.  Fortunately a kindly inspector took pity on us, quizzed us on our cheese and olive oil, and let us through.  A few years ago I brought a cat into Italy with nary a glance from the customs officers to whom I tried to introduce him at the Milano airport.  So, Officials and Inspections and Security, all on a level a bit above that we’ve grown accustomed to.  (On the other hand, no one holds a candle to Italians when it comes to plain old bureaucracy.)

Then there’s size.  Everything seems huge in America when one is accustomed to Italian scale.  Beginning with the large people, and moving right along to the large automobiles, roads and houses which accommodate them.  It’s a change of scale that takes one’s breath away.

We’re in Arizona now, and will be for a few months, having traded a sea of water for one of sand.  Oddly, though we’ve always been Americans, we feel a bit like expatriots in our own country now; perhaps we’ve been living away too long.  Or perhaps this is just a first reaction, and after a week or two we’ll slip back into a more comfortable place. Just now being here feels like wearing shoes that don’t fit exactly right: some places are too loose, and others pinch too much. Rather like the shoes we wear in Italy.

A Pressing engagement – Olives, part 2

05 Wednesday Nov 2008

Posted by farfalle1 in Food, Italian habits and customs, Italy, Liguria, Photographs, Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

frantoio, olive oil, pressing olive oil

Saturday, the day we took our olives to the press, was a gorgeous day. It turned out we had 99 Kilograms of fruit, not the 111 our funky scale told us (we weigh using the unreliable technique of standing on the scale with the olives, then without, then subtracting the difference; it’s kind of comical, especially the shocking ‘without olives’ part).  Mixing ours with T and J’s 75 K gave us a total of 174 K from which we got a total of 26 K of oil.  My trusty calculator tells me that almost 15% of each olive is oil.

We came home with 16.3 liters of oil, and T & J came home with 12.3, giving a remarkable liter of oil for every 6 K of olives picked, a very good result.  We were all happy except for T & J who had picked only half their trees.  Fortunately they were able to pick the rest the next day during a brief respite from the rain, and got them pressed with a batch of another friend at a different frantoio.

frantoio-and-church

The frantoio is in the teeny little building above, squished between San Pietro church and a building housing a delightful restaurant where we ate an enormous lunch (don’t even ask).  The olives are weighed, dumped in a chute, washed, and then disappear into a vast array of machinery with pipes, hoses, gears and belts.  Eventually one is told to put a container under a nozzle and, as they like to say here, Wah-Lah!  Olive oil, golden green and slightly bitter, arrives.

The bits that don’t come back to you as oil are pumped off into a big truck just outside the building.  All this muck is taken off to another kind of mill where it is heated and somehow even more oil is extracted.  What we received is the Virgin (or, I suppose, Extra Virgin) oil.  What is made from the leftover is ‘olive oil.’

Now the oil will sit in its demijohn for about 4 months.  Impurities will sink to the bottom, and somehow the bitterness will disappear and we’ll be left with the mellow, rich oil for which Liguria is justly famous.  It’s hard to wait!

There is a series of photographs of the process available here. Some of the photos look very hazy.  That is because the interior of a frantoio IS hazy – it must be from tiny particles of olive oil floating in the air.  They get into the back of your throat when you walk in and you wonder if you’ll be able to continue breathing.  It must be very good for the complexion.

So the Olive Adventure of ’08 is over.  Our trees will be pruned rather severely this winter, so it may be a year or two until we pick again – unless we can help our friends pick, which is always fun.  It was a Banner Year.

The Best Thing We Ate This Week – Slow Food

26 Sunday Oct 2008

Posted by farfalle1 in Food, Italian habits and customs, Photographs, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Lingotto Fiere, Salone Internazionale del Gusto, Slow Food, Terra Madre, Torino

The opposite of fast food.  That’s the premise behind the organization Slow Food, which was started in 1989 in (of course!) Italy.

Every two years the organization sponsors a Salone Internazionale del Gusto in Torino which, for the first time, was joined this year by Terra Madre, an organization that promotes sustainable agriculture and food production, with a focus on the small producer and preserving taste and biodiversity.  The two groups have much in common in that they both have an interest in the responsible production of delicious food.  Terra Madre focuses more on the agricultural side of the equation, Slow Food on the side of finished food products.  Terra Madre had a much smaller group of exhibitors than did Slow Food, but they were much more interestingly attired (see web album). One theme of this year’s Salone was environmental protection.  Everything was recyclable or made from already recycled materials.

The Salone ran from Oct. 23-27 in the Lingotto Fiera, a HUGE group of pavilions which are a part of a former Fiat manufacturing site.  The whole Fiat plant there has been redesigned as a exhibition center, including the Fiere halls (70,000 square meters) and an auditorium, museum, and exhibit spaces.

Imagine two long aisles of nothing but cheese producers!  A beer hall with at least 10 different beers on tap.  Aisles and aisles of meat products.  Chocolate!  Pasta!  There’s not much that you can eat that wasn’t at the Salone del Gusto… except fast food. And there were not many fresh foods on view; some fruit, not many vegetables, and the meat was all cured in one way or another. One aspect of the Salone which we didn’t take advantage of (nor did many others I’m sure) is the great number of classes, conferences and so forth on various aspects of food, its growth, its preparation and presentation. Over 250 Presidi (chapters of Slow Food) from around the world had exhibits (or something?) – we never got to that pavilion.

Many of the exhibitors were from Italy, but there was a good representation also from Germany and Austria and even someone from Mexico.  And almost all of them gave little tid-bits of their food to taste (except for the caviar and chocolate people, darn it).  You can eat enough for a week on your E 20 admission ticket (and if you’re very lucky, as we were, friends will give you a brace of tickets).  Even the wine was available to taste in small amounts. (Mysteriously all the wine-tasting ground to a halt between 12:30 and 2:30, a great inconvenience to our friend Frank who had developed a powerful thirst.)  Beer of many types was on tap for E 3 for a generous glass.

I truly can’t single out what the very best thing we ate was, it was all fabulous.  We were very careful though, and came home with only one salami and one cheese.  It got easier to resist temptation as the day wore on and our stomachs filled with all our tasting.

Two years ago there were 160,000 visitors at the Salone.  It felt like they all came back on Friday when we were there – it was mobbed.  I can’t imagine what Saturday and Sunday must have been like.  The food people were all unfailingly friendly and pleasant – big smiles and no hard-sell.

It was a fabulous day, but a sensory overload.  There was entertainment in the background almost constantly, and the pavilions are not designed to cut down on sound bouncing around.  There was so much to look at, and to taste, that it was hard to take it all in at once (literally and figuratively).  Will I go back in two years?  If you’d asked me on Friday I’d have said Never!  Too exhausting.  Today?  Well I’d certainly be tempted.  It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen in my life.

Here’s a photo album you can look at if you’re interested.  It only scratches the surface of what we saw, but it does give… the flavor.

Riding in Style

18 Saturday Oct 2008

Posted by farfalle1 in Customs, Driving in Italy, Italian habits and customs, Italian men, Italy, Liguria, Photographs, Rapallo, Uncategorized

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Driving in Italy, Motor Scooter Riding

Many of our friends deplore the number of scooters on the streets, and the abandon with which they are driven.  To which we reply, Think how crowded our already crowded streets and parking areas would be if every one of those scooters was a single-occupant car.  It would be day-long gridlock – a nightmare.

Having said that, there are some scooter drivers who give the rest of us a bad name by being reckless and thoughtless.  And there are scooter practices which car-drivers find annoying; for instance, all scooters will move to the front of any line of cars, and will pass any slow-moving column of cars.  Personally I think irritation at this practice is just envy on car-drivers’ part! I was stranded in a long line in down-town Rapallo a while back; here’s a photo of a few of the scooters who made their way past me and up to the front of the line:

We’ve been making a years-long study of the various driving styles of the Italian Scooter Drivers, and herewith we present our findings.

First of all there are the Wild Young Men who ride with their helmets on the back of their heads, sometimes unfastened (though this is illegal so you don’t see it so often), and always, always, their elbows bent out.  What is it about leaning forward and sticking your elbows out that makes you go faster?  I don’t know, but they all do it, so it must work. You know if you see someone coming at you on a scooter with arms akimbo that you’d better watch out, because he won’t be. And yes, it’s always ‘he.’

The counterpoint to the young boys is the Straight Young Girls. They seem always to be reed-slim, and they sit absolutely erect, with their knees and elbows tucked demurely in. They don’t necessarily drive more slowly than the boys, but they make a neater package. I have to say here that I had a hard time getting the photos to illustrate these styles – the scooters go by quickly, so many of my attempts were blurred failures. The example of this riding style is a woman a little older than the teens of whom I’m speaking, but she has not lost her youthful Style.

Then there are the Young Bucks out cruising. They’ve learned to keep their elbows in, but haven’t yet learned to watch the road all the time. There are more important things to look at!

Time passes, young men age, and through some bizarre rule of body physics the elbows go in and the knees go out. I was able to capture a rare elbows AND knees out gent. This is uncommon; usually the Old Guys simply put their knees at right angles to the scooter and hold their arms in.

Smoking levels are down in Italy, but many people of both genders enjoy smoking as they scoot along. The Captain has noted that most smokers like to light up immediately after putting on their helmets but before they’ve started the motor. (Only yesterday I watched a man put on his helmet, then pull out his papers and tobacco and proceed to roll a big fat cigarette before setting out; that was a first for me.) The Captain wants to invent a ‘sigaretta finta’ (fake cigarette) for those trying to quit – something they could keep in the scooter and put a match to when they set off, and then clench between their teeth as they drive. He thinks it’s an idea with real financial potential; I think we should keep our day jobs. I was unable to capture the not unusual sight of someone driving, smoking AND talking on the cell phone all at the same time. It’s a rather terrifying sight.

Another oddity of the older gentlemen riders is the One Foot Dragging style. I’m not sure what this accomplishes – maybe it serves as a sort of outrigger in case balance should suddenly vanish.

I felt very fortunate to be able to capture a photo of the almost-never-seen Two Foot Dragger:

Perhaps this driver had an especially wiggly passenger?

Before showing you the last two photos, which are of everyone’s favorite scooter style, I want to mention three important styles I was not able to document with pictures. The first is highly illegal, but still often seen. It is the Entire Family of Four on One Scooter. Dad drives; Mom sits pillion; between them, smooshed to near invisibility, is the smaller of two children. Standing between Dad’s legs and arms, between him and the steering handles, is the larger of the two children. Phew!

The Chat is an amusing illustration of the Italian national past-time of sharing information. It’s not unusual to see two scooters zooming along side-by-side as the drivers engage in animated conversation involving, of course, lots of hand language.

You go years without seeing something and then, boom, three times in one week: last week I saw the ever-rarer Side Saddle Passenger, not once, but three times. This style gives me the jim-jams because having tried it once or twice myself I know how completely unstable the side-sitting passenger feels. And if you’re wearing a slippery skirt it’s just a short slide from the scooter seat to the pavement. Ick. Give me my jeans and let me straddle that seat, please. This riding style is favored by older couples, the woman in her sweater and matching A-line skirt, which is too tight to allow her to ride modestly in any other way.

Everybody’s favorite motor-scooter sight has to be the Dog on the Floorboard. We frequently see the older men up here on the mountain transporting their hunting dogs to the woods for a good run. These dogs seem all to be liver-spotted spaniels, and they are excellent passengers.

The other day I rode behind a scooter which had an unwilling lab as passenger. It was hilarious; the dog was all over the place and howling at the top of its lungs. It’s owner was driving very cautiously, but it was still all too much for the dog who sounded more like an air-raid siren than a dog. Perhaps they had come from the vet; or perhaps it was a training exercise. In any event, it had Fail written all over it.

Of course, the smaller your dog, the easier it will be to carry it on your scooter:

If you don’t trust your pooch to balance on the floor, and he’s small enough, you can always tuck him into a basket:

This last is a bit of a cheat because the scooter is stationary, but it’s clear they will soon be on the move:

Have I left anything or anyone out? Let me know if I’ve missed any Moto-Riding styles and I’ll update the catalog.

Zoom Zoom

01 Wednesday Oct 2008

Posted by farfalle1 in Customs, Driving in Italy, Food, Italian habits and customs, Italian men, Italy, Liguria, Photographs, Uncategorized

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Canadair, Chiavari, Chiavari Food Fair, Driving in Italy, fire fighting, Formula One, Mercatino dei Sapori, MotoGP

Sunday in Japan Valentino Rossi won his sixth Moto GP Championship.  That’s motorcycles, and a happy result for Italy.  And in Singapore Filipe Massa and Kimi Raikkonon did not win the Formula One race for Ferrari.  That’s cars, and cause for a national day of mourning in Italy.

Should you care?

Well, that depends.  If you live with or are going to talk to one of the 90% of all Italian males or 60% of the males in the rest of the world (and who knows what percentage of females) who follow motor sports closely, the answer is Yes.  You will want to be at least familiar with the main players so as not to appear a complete dunce.

Personally I stopped watching Formula 1 when Michael Schumacher retired.  There was something about his utter focus, determination and single-mindedness that warmed the cold northern cockles of my heart. (If you haven’t heard of Schumacher, he was the Tiger Woods of Formula One.  If you haven’t heard of Tiger Woods you need a subscription to Sports Illustrated.)  The new Ferrari ace, Massa, is a cute kid, but he doesn’t seem to have the killer instinct that Schumacher had.  And I never did watch the motorcycle races; those boys lean over way too far.

If you live in Italy, however, there’s a more pressing reason for you to keep abreast of at least the racing schedule, if not the results.  Within half an hour of the completion of either of these races the ordinarily gutsy driving of the Italian male becomes downright lunatic.  Sunday morning as I coasted sedately down the hill to Rapallo, shortly after the completion of the MotoGP, a young kid on his all terrain bike came screaming around a car in the opposite direction on a blind curve; he was in the middle of my lane, and very fortunate I wasn’t driving my gravel truck today.

We were on our way to the beautiful city of Chiavari just down the coast from Rapallo.  There is a Mercatino dei Sapori (a food market!) on the last weekend of each month; vendors come from all around the country with absolutely delicious things to eat. Over on the right you can find a link to an album of photos of this delightful event.  This week, however, my interest strayed from the comestibles to the sky, because there was a Canadair flying from the sea to an inland fire and back again, over and over.

The Canadairs are small 2-engine airplanes with big stomachs.  The pilots, who must have to pass an insanity test for the job, skim over the sea and pick up a belly-full of water which they then carry back to the site of the fire, on which they dump their load of water, back and forth, back and forth.  Again on the right you’ll find a link to photos of the Canadairs fighting fire – both from Sunday and from a couple of years ago when they were flying over the hill just behind us.  They engage in amazing feats of flying prowess, aiming right towards a hillside, for instance, and pulling up at the last possible moment, at the same time releasing their water which inertia carries forward to the burning hillside.  It’s incredible to see, much more exciting than either of the races that were on TV that morning.

There’s a great urban myth about the forestieri finding the charred remains of a swimmer, in full scuba outfit, high on a burned out mountain.  He must have been scooped out of the sea by a Canadair and dropped right into the heart of the fire!!  I believed this entertaining tale the first three times I heard it; then the penny dropped.

The pilot this morning flew back and forth low over the city of Chiavari instead of over a less-populated area.  We could hear the low grumble of his engines as he neared the city; the sound growing to a roar as he passed low over the narrow streets, which sent the sound bouncing back and forth till we weren’t sure from which direction it was coming.  The Captain, who should know, says he was between 300-400 feet above us, which sounds like a lot until it’s an airplane flying over your head.  Then it doesn’t seem like nearly enough.

As we were scooting home we watched this hot dog fly parallel to the coast up towards Rapallo.  He then banked sharply and flew directly at a cruise ship in the bay outside Portofino, banked very sharply and flew between the ship and the land, banked again in the other direction around the Portofino lighthouse, and headed back up to the airport at Genova where the Canadairs are based (rather poor pictures of these maneurvers, blue tinted for some reason, on the right).  Anyone on the ship or at the lighthouse will have had a more exciting morning than they had planned. The Captain says that the pilots eat in the cafeteria at the Genova airport at 12:30.  As it was 12:10 I’m sure this fellow was on his way back for lunch.  But he couldn’t resist giving the folks on the land a bit of a thrill.  No doubt he had watched the motor cycle race that morning.

If you see a path, take it

27 Saturday Sep 2008

Posted by farfalle1 in Italy, Liguria, Photographs, Rapallo, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

old mill in Rapallo, San Maurizio, sentiero, walking

Not always good advice, but as often as not it works out well here, so if you’re planning a trip to Italy, be sure to pack your walking shoes.

We used to wonder why so many places in Italy were built in ‘inconvenient’ locations, for example San Fruttuoso, which was once a very important abbey.  Nowadays you can reach it only by boat or on foot.  But of course, we finally realized, in the 1200’s when it was built it was as convenient for it to be there as anywhere else, in fact being on the sea made it more convenient.

Italians are inveterate walkers.  You can be out in the middle of nowhere on some trail that you figure no one has been on for a century; you’ll round a corner, and there will be a middle-aged lady in her straight skirt and high heels walking towards you.  The passagiata is one style of walking, and ‘footing’ along the sentieros is another, slightly more energetic approach. After that I guess you graduate to hiking.  One reason Italians seem so much slimmer and healthier than Americans, I’m sure, is because walking is still central to life here (leaving out the Mediterranean diet for the moment).  In the town where we used to live in the U.S., people routinely drove to the Pharmacy to pick up their newspapers, then got in their cars and drove about 100 yards to the Post Office to pick up mail. The pace of life here accommodates the time it takes to walk in a way that the hurried life in America frequently doesn’t.

Almost every community, certainly every region, has  available maps of the public paths, so it is not difficult to find places to walk.  Not all paths are on these maps, however; there’s no substitute for an ancient neighbor who can tell you which unpromising looking set of steps to take to get someplace quickly. Every place in Italy is connected to every other place by these paths.  Some have been turned into roads since the invention of the automobile, but the shortest distance between two locales is frequently still the ‘sentiero’ – the path.  A good example is the connection between Rapallo and San Maurizio, the frazione where we live.  It’s about 8 kilometers by car, but it is surely not more than 4 or 5 by foot through the woods.  Now that autumn has arrived it is a lovely walk, dry scuffling leaves underfoot and cool breezes off the sea just when you think you’re becoming overheated.

I walked into town yesterday, partly for the sheer pleasure, and partly because my moto was receiving its new back tire.  Here are some photos of the journey.

After leaving our street I walked down this long flight of steps, cutting out 2 switchbacks in the road – isn’t it inviting?

Then I crossed the street and walked down a curving road through a small settlement. Now I know where all the barking we hear comes from. I’ve never seen so many watch dogs.
One house had 3, each fiercer than the last!

Continuing down the hill I arrived at the old mills, which have recently been restored. We’re told there used to be five or six mills in this narrow valley; now there is just this one, but it served double purpose, milling both olives and chestnuts. The old mill wheel between the buildings could be used for both milling operations. Now it is a civic museum and quite interesting to visit.


The stone paths here have always interested me – they’re the devil to walk on because so many of the stones are set end-up rather than flat. I don’t know why, but have decided it was to give better traction to the mules as they made their way up and down these trails loaded with goods.


It was unusually quiet walking down this path. I didn’t hear scooters, or buses honking, or dogs barking, just the occasional bit of birdsong.

You know it’s autumn when you start finding chestnuts on the ground. The ones on the ground now are a bit early; the recent big winds brought them down before they were ripe. The wild boar, cinghiale, love these nuts, so it’s a good idea to keep your eyes and ears open when you’re in the chestnut forest, even though the boars are usually nocturnal.

Amazingly there is a ‘last homely house’ well along this path. I met the woman who lives in it several years ago; she works in the hospital and has (of course!) a lot of dogs. It’s impossible to drive to her home; she parks about a quarter of a mile down the hill and uses this ingenious device to get her goods up to the house – the Modern Mule.

At last I arrived in Rapallo. It took me over an hour to make this walk, but only because I stopped to take so many photos. It was a glorious day to be out and about and hard to find an excuse to be indoors.

But I had to go to driving school…

Aquileia, Croatia and Great Food

23 Tuesday Sep 2008

Posted by farfalle1 in Photographs, Travel, Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Aquileia, Cikat, Croatia, Mali Losinj, mosaics, Villa Asiola

Cikat Bay, Mali Losinj

We’ve been away for a week visiting a friend in Mali Losinj, Croatia.  If you’re looking for a gorgeous spot for a vacation, let me recommend the island of Losinj.  It was developed as a tourist area in the late 19th century and now that Croatia once again has a market economy, it is flourishing.

Mali Losinj

The only culture shock we suffered was linguistic.  What a lot of consonants!  But I know what happened: all the vowels ran away and are now in Italy where they live happily (and pronounced) at the end of every word. Once we learned a couple of tricks (‘j’ is pronounced like the English ‘i’; ‘c’ with a little hat on it is pronounced ‘ch’) we were able hesitantly to begin to sound out a few words.  It’s a nice language to hear spoken, full of swishy sibilants and rounded sounds.

Croatia is not yet part of the EU so we had to cross through border control, which seemed oddly quaint and old-fashioned. They use a currency called the Kuna, seven of which will buy you one euro.

The water of the Adriatic there is the clearest and cleanest we’ve ever seen.  The food is good: Italian from the days when this part of Croatia was a part of Italy, with a healthy mix of northern cuisine from the days when it was part of the Austro-Hungarian empire, and Slavic from eastern influences.

Fish Market in Mali Losinj

We stayed with one of the three best cooks I know, the Captain and the Contessa being the other two (she’s not a Real contessa but she’s a Real Cook).  Our friend Adri buys her lamb by the animal from the farmer who lives in the hills behind her house, cuts the beast up and puts it in the freezer.  The fish comes either from her neighbor who’s a fisherman, or from the local fish market.  It is always whole and never more than 8 hours caught when she receives it. You get a much better sense of what you’re eating when you see your food whole than you do when you buy it neatly packaged in the grocery store.

Nasello ready to be cooked

The Best Thing We Ate This Week is many things: Adri’s poached nasello (hake fish), her slow-cooked lamb, her dessert made with plums the first day, apples and pears the next, the Captain’s chicken gizzard sauce.  I did nothing but eat while the other two spent companionable hours in the kitchen whipping up one delicacy after another.  I hope to be able to give recipes soon for some of these treats; but both cooks work without measuring, so I need to experiment before being secure enough to pass on the procedures.

Mosaics in the Basilica at Aquileia

On our way to Croatia we spent the night near a town called Aquileia, which is the site of extensive Roman ruins and the largest early-Christian mosaic floor in the world (3rd-4th century, 700 square meters).  It was a complete surprise to us, and thrilling to see.  How could we never have heard of it before?  We stayed in a charming Agriturismo which I cheerfully recommend to you called Villa Asiola.  Parts of it date from the 11th century.  And they serve ham and cheese with breakfast!

There’s a photo album over on the right under Photographs, Aquileia and Croatia, if you’d like to see some pictures of our trip (including some very photogenic cats). As usual, I recommend a slide show.

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