So you're probably wondering, hmm I wonder if Lindsey ever got back into her apartment. [You're probably also wondering How did Lindsey know my thoughts? Get out of my head, woman! However, you may be relieved to know that I know this to be true from the comments on my previous blog].
The answer is yes, but not until Monday night!
Saturday morning, Allison came down from Parma to help me with the lock. However, we ladies -- intelligent and creative as we may be -- lacked the ability to get the door to open. And my key could not have chosen a worse time to break: not only was the entire family out of the house, but every shop in Italy was closed until Tuesday ... including the locksmith. (Excepting the bar, because the Italians have their priorities).
So Allison and I -- as intelligent and creative ladies -- decided that there was nothing to do but continue with our awesome plans. No point in crying over spilled wine (especially not when you can just suck it up from the floor). So we went to the ancient and beautiful city of Mantova ... and shopped. And shopped. And shopped. I bought a belt, scarf, and mascara. Allison bought some fashionable baseball caps. We both bought gelato. We didn't see much of the city.... Another weekend.
The next day was Easter and we celebrated it by avoiding Italian cuisine. That's right: for the two foreignors, there were roasted potatoes, buttered carrots, spinach and a huge roast beef. We ate this for lunch and dinner and it was fantastic. Allison, being Irish, also had a solid supply of Bailey's Irish Creme in her fridge, so we had Irish coffee throughout the day.
That night, we went out in search of an open dance club. We were unsuccessful. However we did wander into one of the city's two McDonalds. I love how people turn to stare when they hear Allison and me speaking English. Allison complains about how the Italians stare, I just enjoy it. Though it hurts me inside to go to a McDonalds during my time in Italy, I enjoyed the night. I had a strawberry milkshake (this seems to be a reoccuring theme in my European travels).
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Subsonica
The cd I bought is really just fantastic. Maybe their music just appeals particularly to me, but I think if they sang in English, they would have quite an international following. (Not that I want them to sing in English, I'm just saying).Here are a couple clips of my favorite songs of theirs:
Tutti I Miei Sbagli (All my mistakes)
Ignore the music video -- it's not the original
Incantevole ( Enchanting)
Enjoy! I love them.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Crazy Weekend, the Friday Post
I woke up bright and early at 11:00 am (love it!). Stefano and I had planned a lunch and lesson for this afternoon and we headed into Parma. What I hadn't anticipated was Stefano's determination to get me to try raw horse meat.
Oh, I'm sorry, did I forget to mention that the Italian's eat horse?
So my teacher took me to this amazing little Italia hole-in-the-wall-deli that was bursting with people. He ordered us two raw horse-meat sandwiches. And I ate it. I will provide details on demand, but don't want to upset any horse-lovers who might be reading the bloggy blog.
Afterward, we hit up this "slow food" gelateria. Oh man, was it creamy goodness. Worth note is that the Italians use a thicker, less sweet whip cream which might have come straight out of the cow.
I found out while in Parma that the Nonni were going to Siena for the weekend. That meant that I had the house all to myself this weekend! How exciting -- I could blast my music and just enjoy some solitude. What a fantastic surprise.
Stefano and I drove back to the 'Ganza (Allison calls Sala Baganza this, and I love it). But five minutes later I was hopping into a car with Laura to head back to Parma. She needed to get a present for her friend's birthday and I was going to meet up with my exercize buddy, Augstino, in Parma anyway. Well, we went to Comet, a huge electronics/entertainment store, where Laura found some presents and I bought my first Italian cd. Subsonica. I love them. We met up with Augustino, he bought us some coffee and we ended up walking around a park in Parma all together. It was great fun. I love that I can now hang out with people who don't speak any English and make a connection.
At around six o'clock, after about 3 miles of walking, we went home. I rode home with Augustino and ended up just hanging out with him and Luana at the gastronemia until nine o'clock. We joked and had impromptu English and Italian lessons. When the gastronemia closed, we went upstairs to Luana's aunt's house and ate some leftover pizza from the gastronmia, drank some "old beer," and watched the tv. It was laidback fun. So much fun, in fact, that I ran late to meet Laura at Floyd for another night of fun.
This night was an improvement on Thursday because Luana came and also a guitar showed up. When Danilo brought the guitar, it was immediately passed around. Even I played a ditty on it. A whole bunch of us sat around even after the bar was closed and sang along. Many of the songs were in English, so I knew the words. What fun!
After a fantastic night at Floyd, I returned to my empty home very early in the morning. As I inserted the key into the lock to my apartment, I was all ready to collapse happily into my bed. A unpleasant popping sound interrupted that particular dream -- my key had broken into two; half of it was in the lock, half in my hand.
...To be continued....
Oh, I'm sorry, did I forget to mention that the Italian's eat horse?
So my teacher took me to this amazing little Italia hole-in-the-wall-deli that was bursting with people. He ordered us two raw horse-meat sandwiches. And I ate it. I will provide details on demand, but don't want to upset any horse-lovers who might be reading the bloggy blog.
Afterward, we hit up this "slow food" gelateria. Oh man, was it creamy goodness. Worth note is that the Italians use a thicker, less sweet whip cream which might have come straight out of the cow.
I found out while in Parma that the Nonni were going to Siena for the weekend. That meant that I had the house all to myself this weekend! How exciting -- I could blast my music and just enjoy some solitude. What a fantastic surprise.
Stefano and I drove back to the 'Ganza (Allison calls Sala Baganza this, and I love it). But five minutes later I was hopping into a car with Laura to head back to Parma. She needed to get a present for her friend's birthday and I was going to meet up with my exercize buddy, Augstino, in Parma anyway. Well, we went to Comet, a huge electronics/entertainment store, where Laura found some presents and I bought my first Italian cd. Subsonica. I love them. We met up with Augustino, he bought us some coffee and we ended up walking around a park in Parma all together. It was great fun. I love that I can now hang out with people who don't speak any English and make a connection.
At around six o'clock, after about 3 miles of walking, we went home. I rode home with Augustino and ended up just hanging out with him and Luana at the gastronemia until nine o'clock. We joked and had impromptu English and Italian lessons. When the gastronemia closed, we went upstairs to Luana's aunt's house and ate some leftover pizza from the gastronmia, drank some "old beer," and watched the tv. It was laidback fun. So much fun, in fact, that I ran late to meet Laura at Floyd for another night of fun.
This night was an improvement on Thursday because Luana came and also a guitar showed up. When Danilo brought the guitar, it was immediately passed around. Even I played a ditty on it. A whole bunch of us sat around even after the bar was closed and sang along. Many of the songs were in English, so I knew the words. What fun!
After a fantastic night at Floyd, I returned to my empty home very early in the morning. As I inserted the key into the lock to my apartment, I was all ready to collapse happily into my bed. A unpleasant popping sound interrupted that particular dream -- my key had broken into two; half of it was in the lock, half in my hand.
...To be continued....
Crazy Weekend, the Thursday Post
WHAT A WEEKEND.
Shall I start at the beginning?
Thursday, Filippo did not have asilo (nursery school) because the nursery school is run by nuns and they need lots of praying time for Pasqua (Easter). I must admit that I was dreading giving up my free morning hours. I'll lose them as it is when summer comes and I do so love being productive. Well, I had an Italian lesson with Stefano and made sure it was ok that Filippo accompanied us. Of course, it was no problem at all. In fact, it was fantastic and fun. The Italians are wonderful with children -- men, women, everyone. Children are fair game for touching, cuddling, ooh-ing and aah-ing over. This could have something to do with the small number of little Italians running about; Italy has the smallest population growth rate in the world (exepting the Shakers). So, not only was Stefano great with Filippo (wonderfully inclusive and patient), but the people at the bar looked after him while I was speaking with Stefano. And he was such a wonderful little kid -- it was a beautiful, fun spring morning.
Well, I find out later that Filippo, Pamela, and Michele were all heading up to the mountains that evening and not returning until Tuesday! I had no idea. I had stumbled into a 4-day weekend! (I love Pasqua!).
So after lunch, Filippo and I played outside in the beautiful day. Then, because the morning had been such a success, we went back to Floyd. There, I met another 22-year-old woman living in Sala, Laura. She's a friend of Marco, so they decided (I just let people make plans for me, since I don't understand what they're saying) that we'd go out for pizza that night. (Eccellente).
And that is what we did! After the family took off for the mountains, I went to pizza with Laura and Marco. It was delicious. I wish I could say it wasn't repeatedly horribly awkward, but that's what you get when a man is telling you how much they like you while his friend is pumping you for information on your relationships with men. Then, a group of 48 french children crowded into the pizzeria. My favorite part was when one of the french teachers shushed me, when it was obvious that we couldn't have a discussion over the dim of excited children. Even though we were probably three languages removed (A French-speaker in an Italian speaking country with an English-speaker), we still managed to share a laugh -- love it.
After eating the entire pizza (a feat, to be sure, but not as difficult as in American pizza joints), we stopped into a bar for a quick Guinness ... delicious. Though Laura was very comfortable prying into my affairs, I feel like we get along great and we could have some good times. We droped Marco, the working man, off at home and then went back to Floyd. Wow was it fun! The people were great -- too much fun. I even got my first kiss in Italy (excepting Italians under the age of 4). This quirky guitarist took a fancy to me and was outrageously flirtatious. When he went to leave, he gave me the customary kisses on the cheeks and then planted one on my mouth. As far as first kisses in exotic locales, it wasn't what I expected -- largely because I wasn't expecting it. Nor was anyone at the table. They laughed while I sat there shocked. [And don't worry -- I didn't feel at all invaded. In fact, I was rather impressed with his quirky moxy, though I don't plan on persuing anything in that arena.] He promised to return the next night with his guitar and play me something. Well, I certainly didn't plan on missing out on that.
After he left, the bar closed. Then, the remaining guests/friends partied down with barista Luca (see older post), including an impromptu dance party. With many plans for the morrow, I got to bed way past my bedtime.
All of this leads me to the Fateful Friday Night....
Shall I start at the beginning?
Thursday, Filippo did not have asilo (nursery school) because the nursery school is run by nuns and they need lots of praying time for Pasqua (Easter). I must admit that I was dreading giving up my free morning hours. I'll lose them as it is when summer comes and I do so love being productive. Well, I had an Italian lesson with Stefano and made sure it was ok that Filippo accompanied us. Of course, it was no problem at all. In fact, it was fantastic and fun. The Italians are wonderful with children -- men, women, everyone. Children are fair game for touching, cuddling, ooh-ing and aah-ing over. This could have something to do with the small number of little Italians running about; Italy has the smallest population growth rate in the world (exepting the Shakers). So, not only was Stefano great with Filippo (wonderfully inclusive and patient), but the people at the bar looked after him while I was speaking with Stefano. And he was such a wonderful little kid -- it was a beautiful, fun spring morning.
Well, I find out later that Filippo, Pamela, and Michele were all heading up to the mountains that evening and not returning until Tuesday! I had no idea. I had stumbled into a 4-day weekend! (I love Pasqua!).
So after lunch, Filippo and I played outside in the beautiful day. Then, because the morning had been such a success, we went back to Floyd. There, I met another 22-year-old woman living in Sala, Laura. She's a friend of Marco, so they decided (I just let people make plans for me, since I don't understand what they're saying) that we'd go out for pizza that night. (Eccellente).
And that is what we did! After the family took off for the mountains, I went to pizza with Laura and Marco. It was delicious. I wish I could say it wasn't repeatedly horribly awkward, but that's what you get when a man is telling you how much they like you while his friend is pumping you for information on your relationships with men. Then, a group of 48 french children crowded into the pizzeria. My favorite part was when one of the french teachers shushed me, when it was obvious that we couldn't have a discussion over the dim of excited children. Even though we were probably three languages removed (A French-speaker in an Italian speaking country with an English-speaker), we still managed to share a laugh -- love it.
After eating the entire pizza (a feat, to be sure, but not as difficult as in American pizza joints), we stopped into a bar for a quick Guinness ... delicious. Though Laura was very comfortable prying into my affairs, I feel like we get along great and we could have some good times. We droped Marco, the working man, off at home and then went back to Floyd. Wow was it fun! The people were great -- too much fun. I even got my first kiss in Italy (excepting Italians under the age of 4). This quirky guitarist took a fancy to me and was outrageously flirtatious. When he went to leave, he gave me the customary kisses on the cheeks and then planted one on my mouth. As far as first kisses in exotic locales, it wasn't what I expected -- largely because I wasn't expecting it. Nor was anyone at the table. They laughed while I sat there shocked. [And don't worry -- I didn't feel at all invaded. In fact, I was rather impressed with his quirky moxy, though I don't plan on persuing anything in that arena.] He promised to return the next night with his guitar and play me something. Well, I certainly didn't plan on missing out on that.
After he left, the bar closed. Then, the remaining guests/friends partied down with barista Luca (see older post), including an impromptu dance party. With many plans for the morrow, I got to bed way past my bedtime.
All of this leads me to the Fateful Friday Night....
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Future Adventures
Next month, I am going to Morocco! Charlotte will be done teaching in France and is going to do a bit of traveling, so she and I are taking off for a truly foreign experience. After three days in Morocco, we’re flying back into Italy so I can make proper introduction (Charlotte, Italy. Italy, Charlotte). I don’t think it needs to be said how excited I am to travel with the Charlotte, but I’m also very excited to have her see my world here in Italy. I’ll write all about it.
In the more immediate future, I’m making some awesome Easter (Pasqua) plans with Tata Ali. We’re heading to Mantua (Mantova) on Saturday for sight-seeing and shopping (in only of the window variety) and then doing something awesome involving non-Italian food on Sunday. Allison bought me a travel guide on Mantua, which was so sweet of her.
Also as far as future adventures are concerned, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what I’m going to do after this Italian adventure has concluded. I’ve been keeping some ideas on the backburner for some time, such as working on an international cruise ship (with Charlotte), moving to New Zealand for a few months on a Holiday Work Visa (where Charlotte might be working), or going back to school. Now I’m expanding my options. I’m seeing that the people I admire most are those who really help others and understanding that I’m not going to be satisfied with an unrewarding job. So maybe I’ll look into actually working (*gasp* that sounds vaguely adult). Also, I was thinking – college is about 90% less expensive in Europe. Maybe I can extend my adventures in Europe and get a master’s degree while I’m at it.
I ran across this op-ed article called The End of Philosophy on The New York Times Web site today, and loved it. It's short, give it a gander.
In the more immediate future, I’m making some awesome Easter (Pasqua) plans with Tata Ali. We’re heading to Mantua (Mantova) on Saturday for sight-seeing and shopping (in only of the window variety) and then doing something awesome involving non-Italian food on Sunday. Allison bought me a travel guide on Mantua, which was so sweet of her.
Also as far as future adventures are concerned, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what I’m going to do after this Italian adventure has concluded. I’ve been keeping some ideas on the backburner for some time, such as working on an international cruise ship (with Charlotte), moving to New Zealand for a few months on a Holiday Work Visa (where Charlotte might be working), or going back to school. Now I’m expanding my options. I’m seeing that the people I admire most are those who really help others and understanding that I’m not going to be satisfied with an unrewarding job. So maybe I’ll look into actually working (*gasp* that sounds vaguely adult). Also, I was thinking – college is about 90% less expensive in Europe. Maybe I can extend my adventures in Europe and get a master’s degree while I’m at it.
I ran across this op-ed article called The End of Philosophy on The New York Times Web site today, and loved it. It's short, give it a gander.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Earthquake
I didn't even know that Italy had earthquakes until last Friday when I saw the destruction a small one wreaked two months ago on the Sala Baganza castle (La Rocca). But late last night, a huge earthquake (terremoto) hit L'Aquila, a historic city four hours south of me. The event is dominating news outlets, especially, as one may imagine, in Italy. At this point, the death toll is at 100, as many as 50,000 are homeless, and I don't need to mention that it's horribly tragic.
Broadcast news in Italy is different from American news: the rules are more flexible when it comes to showing personal grief or injured individuals. I kind of wish I didn't understand what the agonized Italians were saying.
For those who might have been worried about me, know that I didn't even feel a tremor from the quake. Earthquakes are common in Italy, but not large ones. (Of course, I am not used to them, so I'm sure I'll write about every one I experience).
To those who I love and miss: I love and miss you!
And Happy Birthday little sis!!!! Did I mention that I can't believe that you're 19 years old?
Broadcast news in Italy is different from American news: the rules are more flexible when it comes to showing personal grief or injured individuals. I kind of wish I didn't understand what the agonized Italians were saying.
For those who might have been worried about me, know that I didn't even feel a tremor from the quake. Earthquakes are common in Italy, but not large ones. (Of course, I am not used to them, so I'm sure I'll write about every one I experience).
To those who I love and miss: I love and miss you!
And Happy Birthday little sis!!!! Did I mention that I can't believe that you're 19 years old?
Self Indulgent Post of Wonders
Who knew that one week could make so much of a difference. Below I have two posts: one from two Saturdays ago (May 28th) and one from this past Saturday (April 4th). I didn't post the first because I thought it was rather whiney and a bit too self-indulgent. But paired with the second, I think it's post-worthy, if only to note the change that can occur in one week.
Dance Night and Introspection
I had a lot of fun. I’ll say that off the bat. I love to dance, I know I can dance, it’s a great time. And I love that I don’t have to try to talk. I have never second-guessed myself or unconsciously apologized for myself more than in this past month. I’ve said it before: it’s exhausting stumbling through this language. Not just mentally, but it also exhausts my ego – my poor ego has been tormented, twisted and mangled. It has been a long time since I’ve had to feel so consistently out-of-the-loop and downright stupid. Now, when I’ve (attempted) to express this emotion, I get the inevitable chorus of “no, you’re very intelligent and picking up the language quickly.” I believe both of these statements, yet I still feel frustrated.
I told my friend Luana tonight that I had a degree in Journalism, and that I studied Acting. She had no idea that I even attended college – I saw her image of me change before my eyes. I saw the thought flit behind her pupils, “Oh, in her own culture and language, this girl is actually a competent human being.”
I’m so frustrated by my inability to express. I’ve come to realize that expressing is all I do – I don’t have a technical craft or training, I have the ability to manipulate the English language as well as my delivery of thoughts and ideas. Stick me in Italy and suddenly I’m inventing a new form of sign language.
I find my outlets in strange places. First of all, I crave dancing. Dancing is a universal language. On the dance floor it doesn’t matter that I don’t speak Italian (in fact, it has actually come in handy). I’ve gone dancing the last two weekends and I have plans for next Saturday. Also, I can’t keep my hands off Pamela’s old classical guitar. And here I find myself frustrated again – the instrument is not the proper conductor for what I want to play; namely, rock songs. (Just like the language!) I don’t have any of the right notes, knowledge of guitar chords or finger flexibility, but I have oh so many songs I want to play. I digress: in the next couple of weeks I’m going to buy an inexpensive acoustic and find all kinds of solace in the six metal strings.
Dance Night the Third
I went out again with Luana and her family. It was her birthday today and she was awesome enough to invite me over to her family party as well as out to dinner and dancing. I was the only person not related to her (or dating her), and I felt honored. There are a few people in Sala Baganza who have completely welcomed me into their lives, and it’s wonderful.
We went to a nearby pizzeria and had an assortment of seafood pasta dishes – delicious! I chatted with Luana, her aunts, and her boyfriend all through dinner. And the best part: we had real conversation. I feel like I woke up today and was able to understand what people are saying. In retrospect, I realize that isn’t true; it was when I wasn’t paying attention this past week that I improved by leaps.
A couple things clicked in the past few days. First, all the studying paid off on a few key grammatical rules, and I’ve internalized meanings, so I don’t get caught on words only to miss the rest of the sentence. Also, I’m starting to take chances with the language – there are so many cognates that I’m making educated guesses on what certain words might translate into, and more often than not, I’m right. One of the most helpful things I’ve done was to create a list of common filler words (although, often, each, then, etc) and studied them EVERY DAY so that I don’t get caught up in the little words.
I will also say, I’m getting out of the habit of tuning out what people are saying on the assumption that I won’t understand. In fact, I’m meeting someone for coffee in Parma tomorrow who speaks nary a word of English. (Most of my friends – Marco, Stefano, Pamela, etc – speak English at least competently, and I think this often allows me to be lazy).
Well, anyway, I’m far from being competent in Italian. And keep in mind I hang out with people who know my language limitations. Still, it was so fantastic to realize mid-conversation that I was holding my own, as opposed to sitting with my apologetic confused face or tuning out the conversation.
Such improvement also makes me a lot more excited to have my friends come visit. I didn’t like the thought that I wouldn’t be able to competently and comfortably introduce my friends to Italy.
Also, all the Italians here use the same hand gestures. But, instead of picking them up like you might imagine I would, I find myself making up and using my own hand gestures. I’m going to return to the US with these new gesture habits that aren’t at all Italian but are a direct consequence of my living in Italy.
Dance Night and Introspection
I had a lot of fun. I’ll say that off the bat. I love to dance, I know I can dance, it’s a great time. And I love that I don’t have to try to talk. I have never second-guessed myself or unconsciously apologized for myself more than in this past month. I’ve said it before: it’s exhausting stumbling through this language. Not just mentally, but it also exhausts my ego – my poor ego has been tormented, twisted and mangled. It has been a long time since I’ve had to feel so consistently out-of-the-loop and downright stupid. Now, when I’ve (attempted) to express this emotion, I get the inevitable chorus of “no, you’re very intelligent and picking up the language quickly.” I believe both of these statements, yet I still feel frustrated.
I told my friend Luana tonight that I had a degree in Journalism, and that I studied Acting. She had no idea that I even attended college – I saw her image of me change before my eyes. I saw the thought flit behind her pupils, “Oh, in her own culture and language, this girl is actually a competent human being.”
I’m so frustrated by my inability to express. I’ve come to realize that expressing is all I do – I don’t have a technical craft or training, I have the ability to manipulate the English language as well as my delivery of thoughts and ideas. Stick me in Italy and suddenly I’m inventing a new form of sign language.
I find my outlets in strange places. First of all, I crave dancing. Dancing is a universal language. On the dance floor it doesn’t matter that I don’t speak Italian (in fact, it has actually come in handy). I’ve gone dancing the last two weekends and I have plans for next Saturday. Also, I can’t keep my hands off Pamela’s old classical guitar. And here I find myself frustrated again – the instrument is not the proper conductor for what I want to play; namely, rock songs. (Just like the language!) I don’t have any of the right notes, knowledge of guitar chords or finger flexibility, but I have oh so many songs I want to play. I digress: in the next couple of weeks I’m going to buy an inexpensive acoustic and find all kinds of solace in the six metal strings.
Dance Night the Third
I went out again with Luana and her family. It was her birthday today and she was awesome enough to invite me over to her family party as well as out to dinner and dancing. I was the only person not related to her (or dating her), and I felt honored. There are a few people in Sala Baganza who have completely welcomed me into their lives, and it’s wonderful.
We went to a nearby pizzeria and had an assortment of seafood pasta dishes – delicious! I chatted with Luana, her aunts, and her boyfriend all through dinner. And the best part: we had real conversation. I feel like I woke up today and was able to understand what people are saying. In retrospect, I realize that isn’t true; it was when I wasn’t paying attention this past week that I improved by leaps.
A couple things clicked in the past few days. First, all the studying paid off on a few key grammatical rules, and I’ve internalized meanings, so I don’t get caught on words only to miss the rest of the sentence. Also, I’m starting to take chances with the language – there are so many cognates that I’m making educated guesses on what certain words might translate into, and more often than not, I’m right. One of the most helpful things I’ve done was to create a list of common filler words (although, often, each, then, etc) and studied them EVERY DAY so that I don’t get caught up in the little words.
I will also say, I’m getting out of the habit of tuning out what people are saying on the assumption that I won’t understand. In fact, I’m meeting someone for coffee in Parma tomorrow who speaks nary a word of English. (Most of my friends – Marco, Stefano, Pamela, etc – speak English at least competently, and I think this often allows me to be lazy).
Well, anyway, I’m far from being competent in Italian. And keep in mind I hang out with people who know my language limitations. Still, it was so fantastic to realize mid-conversation that I was holding my own, as opposed to sitting with my apologetic confused face or tuning out the conversation.
Such improvement also makes me a lot more excited to have my friends come visit. I didn’t like the thought that I wouldn’t be able to competently and comfortably introduce my friends to Italy.
Also, all the Italians here use the same hand gestures. But, instead of picking them up like you might imagine I would, I find myself making up and using my own hand gestures. I’m going to return to the US with these new gesture habits that aren’t at all Italian but are a direct consequence of my living in Italy.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Under the Tuscan Sun (no copyright infringement intended)
Last Saturday, the family took a day trip to Toscano (Tuscany) and brought along me and Luciano (family friend). Our aim was to check out this apartment on the beach that Pamela and Michele might rent for the summer. It took about an hour to get to Massa, the beachside town. The trip there was amazing – only a few minutes into the trip and we were in the foothills of the Alps, with snow-powdered mountains around the bend. (Randomly enough, the mountains made me miss America). Massa was very nice – it draws a fair number of tourists, though it’s no hotspot. There was a pizzeria on every corner; like Starbucks …except with pizza. We checked out the apartment, which was nice; I wouldn’t mind spending some of the summer a three-minute walk from the beach – which is exactly where we went next. For a couple hours, the adults reclined in the sand and the sun while Filippo ran through the water. It was far too cold to be splashing around, but Filippo is a water-baby and couldn’t stay out of the ocean. He was a muddy mess by the time we left.
After a customary visit to a bar (it’s what you do in Italy) and a cup of hot chocolate (this hot chocolate was very thick and soupy), we strolled through a neighboring town. This town is vacation-home to the (Italian) rich and famous. Though it looked like every other beachside town, the shops betrayed it for upscale: Prada, Gucci, Versace, etc….
In the distance you can see the Marble Mines. “Marble mines?” you ask. Yes, mines where they get marble. And not just any marble, but incredibly famous marble. The same marble from these mountains is the marble used by Italian sculptors through the ages, including Michelangelo. And everything in the town was made of marble, including the sidewalks, the monuments, benches … it was marble heaven! (If you like marble).
All in all, it was a wonderful first trip into Tuscany.
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