BAGNO 2

And there is that sweet sound of construction I was talking about...

Construction in Italy Part 1

A peek behind the scenes featuring Giuseppe, the singing idralico...

House Restoration in Italy

The purpose of my visit to Italy this fall was to remodel the tired bathroom

that just has had enough.

(actually I am sure the bathroom is quite content, it is me that has

had enough...)

Husband keeps asking how it is going.
Well, it is always much more interesting
to use some visual aids to tell a story, in my opinion,
so I keep evading his questions
until I could paint a picture with both words and photos=
BLOG POST!

We bought this apartment in 2002 and in the first year we owned it, it was necessary to remodel the kitchen and add a second bathroom.
That is pretty much all we have done in 8 years.

But this tired old bathroom has not had

an overhaul probably since the 1980's and it is due. I tried to give it facelifts by
painting it white a few years back and I worked with a local Cortona
artist to paint some fun painted finishes on the ceiling.

3 or 4 years ago doing the bathroom "facelift"

The facelift of the past 3-4 years

It was fine for a while, but this poor bathroom has

seen better days.

I'm over it.
So once again, I am entering into the world of
Italian
House Renovation.
Not a job for the faint of heart.
Everything you may have read or heard about renovating a house
in Italy is most likely true and then some.
I have had just about all these experiences that were ever
written about building or remodling in Italy.

They are extremely challenging, frustrating, funny,
unbelievable, maddening to the point of homicide,
and some of the best times I have ever had.

I love the sound of workers hammering, sawing,

pounding, drilling, it thrills me to no end to see

my vision being built.

(remind me I said that when something goes

wrong with THIS project, so far nothing has

but it isn't over YET)

So exit old tired bathroom and this is what I walked into

10 days ago...

Completely demolished, down to the 500 year old walls.

Isn't it beautiful?

I was delighted!

No more stupid blue.

No more 1980's tired gaudy fixtures.

No more cheesy painted white wood

walls that keep peeling.

No more centuries old dust that keeps falling out from

behind the cheesy white paneled walls that barely

held everything in.

Just rubble.

Beautiful, pure rubble.

And 500 year old stone walls.

A blank canvas.

I called the two main worker guys,

Giuseppe and Taddeo, the

respective idralico (plumber/electrician)

the muratore (wall mason).

They INSISTED on coming over immediately

that evening at 9:30pm.

They seemed quite eager and pleased

to see me.

(actually I think they were really happy to see

me arrive,

knowing they were going to make a

sacco di soldi (a sack of money)

at my expense,

stupidina Americana..

Now I was here to begin the project and

the sacco di soldi was not far away...

But maybe not,

maybe we are all just good pals and they were

really excited to see me...

Yeah right.

But none the less, we had a fine, animated chat.

They point out all the various places of work that was done

BEFORE their sojourn here, at Casa San Marco 2 years ago,

and take great glee in showing me how the imbecile former

plumber who remodeled our kitchen which

adjoins the bathroom wall,

used pipes made out of plastic that were as thick (or thin) as a balloon.

Balloon thin pipes in 1/2 thick walls.

If you fell against that wall with enough impact,

you would probably end up in the kitchen.

They then illustrated to me how

both the bathtub drainage and the washing machine drainage was

joined into one tiny pipe that leads out of the house.

The previous evil idralico then encased these pipes

in a flimsy sheetrock rock wall about 1/2

inch thick.

The upshot of this

discussion was that we were extremely

fortunate that the pipes never burst by carrying so much

water in pipes

not designed to carry much water at all,

much less the kind of water that gets

drained out of a washing machine and bathtub.

Next, they proceeded to show me the the pipes

where the toilet HAD been.

The way the former plumber had done those was to not support them

in any way, the main drain from the toilet was just kind of flopping around,

lyingright up against my

neighbors ceiling.

So again, we were lucky that the toilet sewage

or the toilet itself never fell into our downstairs neighbor

Ivana's living room.

They then asked who the CAZZO (fuck)

did that shoddy work anyway?

Was it that joker Rinaldo?

I sheepishly looked at the floor.

"Well, we were new here, we didn't know anyone, Rindaldo

was referred to us by some friends who knew a plumber...''

They dismissed my pathetic answer, they all ready knew that

Rinaldo was the culprit, they just wanted to see me squirm.

They went on to

joke around between themselves drawing me into

the festivities.

A lot of words were batted around referring to the former

idralico (plumber) such as:

"CRETINO" and "IDIOTO" and "IMBICILE".

I don't see that I need to translate here.

It is fairly self explanatory.

I don't usually like to indulge in such slander (Ha!)

but I must admit, I got right in there with them.

So a good time was had by all.

We made some decisions, talked about the general ideas

of this bathroom remodel

and it was agreed that they would come back to start

building the next day.

The next day, the new improved wall went up in about 10 seconds,

thanks to the hard work of the

Albanian work force that Taddeo has

employed.

Those guys are amazing.

Newly improved wall, made with real bricks,

several inches thick,

with the correct plumbing fixtures and pipes,

strong enough to carry sludge to the sewer system.

I should say that my experience

in these now 3 times of doing restoration in

Italy is always done by looking at a few photos

that I show the workers,

and I cross my fingers, say a prayer that it will all turn out ok.

And here I go again, insane enough to enter into this

process yet another time.

It is like giving birth.

You never remember the pain and you

are ever so eager to repeat the whole

grueling experience all over again.

Here we go....let's have another baby!

How I Spent Day of the Dead in Italy

Had a most incredible Day of the Dead here in Italy, it is a national holiday, many go to the cimitero (cemetery) to pay their respects and and bring flower and candles to remember lost loved ones. It is also a time of gathering with friends and family over some elaborate pranzo, or lunch.

Flower vendors set up temporary booths several days

before hand and the graves are graced

with elaborate flower arrangements, it is such a lovely and civil holiday that I wish we celebrated in our country.

I was invited with along with my friends, Denys and Claudio, to lunch at the

4-star Olive Oil Resort,

Villa Campesti,

http://www.villacampestri.com

in the hills outside Florence.

Denys is a local travel/tour agent and

she often gets invited and comped gratis lovely tours and meals by hotels, resorts and such, in an effort to work with her to bringing clients to their establishment.

I got to be the recepient of today's invitation, lucky me.

This sublime estate was built in the 14th century,

we were given a tour by the owners,

then wined and dined (well, I only dined) in the exquisite dining room overlooking this verdant estate.

The pranzo (lunch) was unreal,

not my usual piece of cheese I normally wolf down standing up.

Antipasto started with bruschetta, a selection of cheeses

with some fresh pear compote that knocked me out!

(I will never be able to eat Trader Joe's sliced New York Cheddar again..)

followed by some spaghetti with an amazing grated breadcrumb mixure,

their "new olive oil" that was pressed 2 days ago,

followed THEN by a steak Tagliata (grilled) over a bed of fresh greens and shaved parmigiano

(watch out Rob, this was a close contender to yours...)

And if that wasn't enough,

the desserts were olive oil ricotta cake over berry brulee,

chocolate fondante olive oil cake,

and olive oil pear tatin.You think there is a theme here?

We were all happily groaning and stuffed,

Claudio kept remarking that he wanted to go take a nap in the papal

bed that was in one of the rooms we had seen earlier.

A bit heavy and ostentatious for both Denys and myself,

but Claudio was pretty fixated on that Pope bed.

Then of course, doppio espresso...which was fortunate,

because after this 3 hour lunch,we were then escorted down to the olive oil tasting room

where the olive oil "sommelier" gave us an education

on how olive oil should be tasted and several samplings of

swirling olive oil in ones mouth.

Oh, and I visited the cimitero also, but you will

need to wait for that story;

it is worthy of a future blog post.........

stay tuned....

Breakfast in Berlin

It seems as though I have suddenly found myself back in Berlin again this autumn.

When I was here this past summer, I made some wonderful

new friends,

(see former post here)

who invited me back to visit,any time.

How could I refuse?

So here I am, living and hanging in the heart of the

MITTE neighborhood,which is about maybe

a kilometer + or - in circumference,

and I have barely made it out of this zone

in 3 days.

I started to get panicked, I have to SEE, DO, FIND

everything in Berlin in the week I am here,

and I havent even left the MITTE.

I had all these fantasies about how I would be

painting, collaging and writing in

art journals at some chic and cool cafe, whiling the

hours away,

dressed in fashionable attire

fitting for an artist,

with my little portable studio

spread out all over the table,

looking and actually being extremely prolific as I fill

page after page of the MANY blank

journals I hauled over to Europe.

(Last time I checked, they don't sell Moleskin here,

or any other blank journals either)

Oh, and each page of these newly filled journals would be a masterpiece too.

AND

I would have seen

EVERYTHING

in Berlin as well.

So as you might imagine, I have done none of this.

I am living in a fantasy land.

It is a big problem for me.

I have a seriously warped perception of reality.

Oh well.

Keep coming back.

Meanwhile, I am having a blast.

And I truly am enjoying

WHAT IS.

and

I have found the most wonderful caffe, it doesn't appear to

have a name except:

BAR CAFFE.

I am completely enamored of the place, it's a young trendy

hang out, open 24/7, with millions of 50's and 60's thrift store sofas stacked back to back

(that part is a little questionable,I could have done

a much better job with the furniture arranging)

BUT

the wall treatments are so great,

I have been obsessively studying them for days.

And I have taken about 200 photos so far.

They went down to the existing rock and sheetrock in this broken down building

and left all the rawness and then did beautiful graphite pencil drawings on

heavy tracing paper and pasted them onthe walls , so the effect is translucent

and the drawings look totally integrated with the crumbling, raw walls.

Plus, the BAR CAFFE makes killer espresso.

I am NEVER Cooking Again

I am so happy.

Jesse cooked dinner.

He has an extremely refined sensibility about food,

how it should taste, and how to put it together.

"Una buona forchetta"

("a good fork", literally translated from Italian,

but actually means "good taste"

So we were at Zupans together, trying to figure out what to have

for dinner, and he said

"I have it Mom, let's do Pasta Puttanesca"

Yuck, I say,

"I HATE tomato sauce!!!"

"No, no, no, we do fresh tomatoes, barely cooked...", he insists.

In my mind, I struggle with this concept of relinquishing control.

Tomatoes?

I arrive at a solution.

"Ok, Jesse, you make it!"

He says no.

I say yes.

He acquises and happily runs about Zupan's gathering ingredients.

"What about the anchovies", I feebly insert...

"NO, no anchovies, this is MY dish now."

Ok, I surrender.

And Jesse takes over.

The results?

Fresh cooked sweet cherry tomatoes, garlic, olives, capers

basil and parsley, the exact proportions that created

the most delicious sauce,

it was PERFECTION!

And I am a food snob.

I do not give out compliments regarding food lightly.

This was truly one of the best pasta dishes EVER.

And the best part was:

Now I know that not only is my son

more than capable of cooking a great meal,

he is MUCH better than I am, so now I don't ever have

to cook AGAIN, yipee!

Too bad Jesse is moving back up to college next week,

minor detail.

Oh well.

Cortona 2010

Cortona!

Always the same heading up this hill, it never fails to

delight me!

I first came to Cortona over 10 years ago, as a result of

having done a junior year abroad in Florence

over 30 years ago.

Or as they say so politely in Italian:

Diversi anni fa...

(Some years ago)

This is what you say when the number of years ago REALLY

starts to tell your age, so you just say vaguely:

Some years ago...

Anyway, I like that, as the college experience is now just not

a few years back, it is

Diversi anni fa...

Duomo, Florence

So, I had the good fortune to be spending my junior year in college,

in Florence, Italy,

with an extraordinary group of kids from all over

California and had an EXTRAORDINARY

resident director who was from San Jose State,

Duilio Peruzzi.

He was originally from Cortona, Italy,

still had family and friends there, and

has always traveled back and forth to

Cortona his entire life.

10 + years ago, Rob and I set about realizing a dream:

to move to Italy for a year with our young kids, put them in

Italian elementary school for a year and give them the

experience of living in a foreign country.

We chose Cortona, because Duilio connected us with

his family there and we were made to feel

so welcome and at home.

We have been returning there every year since, and it

truly is a home to us.

Duilio is often there as well when we return.

He lives down the street from us in Cortona,

and it is always a joy to see him about town.

He possesses the gift of gab, as do many Italians,

so I was able to catch some candid shots of him at the weekly

market in Cortona, doing what he does best.

And so I start this month of Cortona 2010 adventures

giving credit where credit is due:

to my pal Duilio, who I always

credit with not only instilling in me, a love of Italy

but more particularly, leading me to

this magical home that I am blessed with,

Cortona.

Duilio, love and mille grazie to

you always!