Adventures in AndreaLand

Last weekend I met up with Jesse and Zach again (my friends from seattle, not saved by the bell), this time up in Venice. I had been debating weather or not to spend my last weekend here in Florence, but had been told that Venice was a must-see and most of all, I really wanted to see the Biennale. I am sooo glad I went… Along the way I met a bubbly girl from San Fran who had also gone to NYU and randomly, spent a year living in Kirkland. So we chatted and laughed throughout the 3 hour train ride. J&Z’s best friend Rick Steve (the super nerdy travel guru) describes Venice as "A puddle of elegant decay." I laughed at the absurdity of this description, until I arrived in the fog and had to take a water taxi to the Rialto Bridge, zooming along the Grand Canal past stacked 18th century houses and ornate villas, as if it were the main arterial. I soon learned that in fact, it was. In Venice, streets are replaced with salty green water, cars with water taxis and kitschy gondolas and sidewalks with narrow alleys between old buildings and over 400 bridges that connect over 100 islands that make up the city. I was at first dissapointed to see the city was covered with damp fog, but realized that it only contributed to the overall magical effect and mystery of an ancient city that seems to float on  water. I found our quaint hotel down an alley behind the fish market and we all set off to explore. Venice is infamous for getting lost in and apparently even its lifetime inhabitants often lose their own way. We made our way to beautiful St Marks Square, along the busy narrow streets filled with street vendors selling Murano glass and tourists from everywhere. St Marks was beautiful and the facade of the Basilica is guilded ornate and provides a beautiful backdrop for the entertaining stage that is the center of the square. Although I live in and have visited cities filled with flying rats, I have never seen anything like what I witnessed with the pigeons at St Marks. Millions of themthey are everywhere and it is the most amusing sight to watch the tourists who think its funny to put a little bread in their hand, until they immediately find themselves with pigeons landing on their head hands arms chests children screaming freaking out. Even though it made my skin crawl (bird flu is all the talk these days) I couldnt get enough of watching stupid innocent people so sweetly start to feed them then quickly become part of Hitchcocks worse nightmare… we had a delicious lunch quick rest then later feasted again until late in the night and wandered aroun the quiet foggy streets. Sunday up early to catch the free breakfast (ie bread in many forms) and make our way to Venice’s 51st Biennale, an international art exhibition that occurs every two years since 1895, with different pavilions and over 40 countries represented. Unfort right now in art painting is dead. It was heavy with video installation which is ok but requires a lot of time but also many interactive pieces that the viewer walked in or around including one pavillion where the entire piece was a giant wooden treehouse structure to climb up and around. We managed to hit every pavillion in the Giardino and barely make it to the train station that evening to head back to Firenze. Two days was not nearly enough time to explore the delicate floating mysterious city that is slowly sinking into the marsh and fog it once so elegantly rose above.

Rick Steve isnt such a jackass afterall.

Last night I talked to Mommie on the phone, and the sound of her voice soothed my soul more than any pile of scrambled eggs with prosciutto and asiago and smothered with truffle cream. (Which so far has been a great homesick remedy)  She was curious if her birthday present was going to be from the Tuscan region and when I said that it was but that I was concerned about the weight limit on the small planes she wanted to know how much I weighed these days. My luggage was my concern, not necessarily my new fat ass. Which got me thinking about these new strict weight limits airlines are imposing to combat rising gas prices. Even carry-on items are now being weighed and steep charges are incurred if you are over the limit. I was almost not allowed on my flight from Paris to Pisa. But really fat people seem to have no problemo. So you can gain all the weight you want on your backside but god forbid you support the economy and try to bring home a nice bottle of wine. So just a warning to those of you who are hoping for presents, you can blame the airlines, rising gas prices, and essentially george bush, because I can bring very little back with me.

When I explained to my mom that my own rising weight was hardly my fault, living here in the land of delicious wine, pasta, cheese and gelato, her response was, Oh Andrea I know, I could drink wine with every meal!

Nothing like a moms wisdom to make one feel better.

I thought it would have been easy- Ghostbusters- but maybe some of you are just too young. Of course CB knew it…

Anyway, had to head up to Cinque Terre again before I left so met up with my friends Jesse and Zach who are on their own big Euro adventure. It was a wonderfully hot and beautiful weekend so I am so glad I was able to visit that magical place one last time. Stepped off the train and in honor of Ms Cohen, had a big cone of pistachio gelato…soo good. Layed around in the hot sand, napping and listening to the waves crash while waiting for them to meet me. It was sooo great to be around old friends, lots of laughing and catching up on tales of our adventures.  We picked up some local wine pesto archichoke dip and cheesy focaccia and had a picnic and got ready for dinner. Went to a popular seafood restaraunt and laughed some more over a steaming pan of spaghetti with mussels and clams and grilled swordfish jumbo prawns and baby octopi. There was something quite disturbing about the tiny purple baby octopi with their innocent faces and squishy heads. A little too spongebob squarepants for me. We tossed one to a cat who was prowling around the streets and even he was having no part of it. More gelato- hazelnut this time- it did not dissapoint.

The next day over breakfast on a beachside restaraunt, we debated the hike or just laying around in the sun. The beach won unanimously so we spent a hot afternoon with another wine cheesy bread and yummy dip picnic listening to the waves gently roll in and swimming in the sea hardly imaginable in the middle of October. I even got a massage from a tiny woman with very strong hands for $20. After a quick dinner of pesto lasagna it was hard to say goodbye and jump on the train but had to give a tour of the Villa first thing Monday morning so knew I couldnt play hooky. Jesse and Zach stayed on and are touring around the north making their way to Firenze at the end of the week.

Its weird to think I have less than two weeks left here at the Villa and in Firenze. Although the transisition hasnt always been easy as I start to feel more comfortable and feel the symptoms of Lady of the House set in it will be difficult to say goodbye. The sun still sets brilliantly yet a bit lower in the sky so as my favorite season begins to chill the Tuscan landscape with the colors of warmth I will make every effort to be appreciative of each of the few remaining days left of this wonderful adventure.

And also get in a litle more shopping.

I cant believe that the army of critics out there did not correct me when I wrote about Bangladesh but clearly meant Pakistan. Whatever, I said I watched a lot of CNN but guess I didnt note that I usually write after a lot of wine.  Nothing terribly exciting to report about the week, well, there could but it could be bad.

Egon: There’s something very important I forgot to tell you.
Peter: What?
Egon: Don’t cross the streams.
Peter: Why?
Egon: It would be bad.
Peter: I’m fuzzy on the whole good/bad thing. What do you mean bad?
Egon: Try to imagine all life as you know it stopping instantaneously and every molecule in your body exploding at the speed of light.

Those of you who know know what I mean by this. And those of you who dont, should. In any case, Im off to meet Jesse and Zach up in Cinque Terre for the weekend. Ciao for now.

My dear friend Fifi came to visit me over the weekend and it was a much needed infusion of girlie time chatting laughter late night deep discussions and gluttenous luncheons. I was in much need of spending some time with someone on the waaavelength and despite the nasty fall weather that rolled in with her plane from London, we had fun. Churches frescoes pasta pizza wine and walking, we even took in some contemporary art which I had been craving for quite some time. Donne Donna exhibition at the Galleria Tournabuoni- Ofili and Golden in Firenze were unexpected but unrepenting. Later, we decided to check out the nightlife and since even accidental eye contact seems to be an open invitation to come on over and annoy us,  we developed a highly sophisticated look to detract unwanted attention from overeager Italianos. The look involved thinking about poor Princess Diana, her drunken driver and that whole mess, and we would avert our eyes purse our lips shake our heads clearly indicateding "dont even try." As much as we were cracking ourselves up, it actually worked. Later we went on a bloody massacre killing the army of bloodsucking mthrfckrs that have invaded my apartment. Although it was a fun game to throw my thick book - The Agony and the Ecstasy- at those nasty mosquitos, it was a bit disturbing to see our own red blood splattered all over my white walls.

Sunday arrived with sunshine and blue skies a warm perfect fall day and it was sad to say goodbye. After putting Fifi in a taxi, I had a nice long talk with Sherrybaby while in a phone booth at San Marco square, among families, elderly and several police officers on a bright sunny Sunday afternoon. It was then that I was visually violated by a "rubber" for the second time in this quaint Renassiance town. At first I thought he was just a weirdo in thin sweatpants with an itch and bad manners but as he circled the phone booth and kept on his rubbing it became clear that he was engaging in some self love and wanted me to see it. Note to the men out there: NO ONE WANTS TO SEE THAT!!! Not quite the "whacker" that had showed it to Caty and I years before, but disturbing nonetheless. I knew the Poor Princess Diana look would not work in this case, so I ignored to the best of my ability until he finally went away.

I was in the middle of noodling on a clever synopsis of the weekend, while eating pasta cheese and wine and watching CNN, (The only english speaking channel I have, so am currently up to date on all foreign politics but had no idea that Katie Holmes was knocked up..) when the images of the devastation and loss of lives in Bangledesh became overwhelmingly saddening. So before exiting my carefree rambling about my daily observations while living abroad, I wish to say a prayer for the people whose lives have been lost destroyed or shaken. And a special heartfelt wish that the little babies now without families will find safe shelter warm food comforting arms and know growing love from this day forward.

Many thanks to those who heeded the warning of the authors strike and sent lovely emails. But come on, did you really think it would be that easy to stop my writing?…

This past weekend I went on another excursion outside the city walls of Firenze, which has proven to be by far the best experience of this Italian adventure yet. Taking many peoples advice, I headed for Cinque Terre, a group of five tiny fishing villages spread out appx four miles along the rugged cliffs of the Mediterranean. The "Italian Riviera". The train ride up was only 2.5 hours, during which time I feasted on Vanity Fair magazine, which actually cost more than my ticket. And worth every euro.

As the train approached the end of the journey, I could feel with every fiber of my being the closeness of the Sea, although I could not yet see or smell it. The final stretch was thru a long dark tunnel, with teasing peaks of blue rushing by like the surreal windows of unimagined dreams. When the train finally came to a stop in Monterosso, the last village, and I stepped out on the platform and could see nothing but rich lapis turquoise emerald sea stretching out before me and inhaled the the salty breeze and felt the hot afternoon sun vibrating thru clear blue skies I was overwhelmed to tears. Maybe corny, but this Seattle girls soul was parched in need of lake ocean or sea that the slowmoving brown Arno of Firenze had not been quite quenching. Upon seeing the pink and orange almost tropical buildings fuschia bougainvilla and even sand outlining the beach I knew I had to find a way to stay the night, despite the many denials I had already received from overbooked hotels. I happily found the shitty hotel recommended by my neighbors, clearly pushing the limit of the two star system, I dropped off unecessary weight and started immediately on the hike that connects the five villages.

The path was far more treacherous than I had imagined, along rugged mountain terrain on steep cliffs up stone steps traversing thru vineyards that ran up the vertical hillside with deep dropoffs. But each step of ascention brought with it a widening view of hot sun sparkling on the horizon endless calm Mediterranean waves softly crashing below. Thru wild mountain blackberries fruited cactus refreshing pines ripe red currants carefully tended to grapes purple yellow wildflowers while bees buzzed birds sang butterflies alighted. It was out of a dream yet felt invigoratingly real and empowering and humbling all at once. In all the churches I have been to in the past several weeks I have never felt this touched by something more powerful than myself or felt more grateful to be part of this earth. My mind body spirit senses were overwhelmed by the power of this place and a tangible energy and as I was reminded recently that spirit runs thru all things, this could not have been more evidenced.

With mad determination I managed to reach all five towns- Monterosso, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola, Riomaggiore each one a tiny cluster of bright colored buildings blending with Medieval stone structures and proud castles watching guard all impossibly nestled into the jagged cliffs spilling out into the calm Sea. I only fell once, a good hard fall quick lesson in patience that was worth the bloodshed. Completely exhausted and famished, I trained back to Monterosso to feast on the local cuisine of seafood olives mushrooms pesto lemons wine. Sadly, my options were limited as a diner of one…

After a failed attempt to adopt a wild cat for the night, I slept hard, awoken only by unfortunate rainstorms. My wishes of lazy Sunday beaching in the sun were replaced by beachcombing in the rain but I aborbed the sound of the crashing waves and collected pretty rocks and ate pesto lasagna and fragola gelato and milked every moment before heading back to rainsoaked Firenze.

Cinque Terre is beautiful amazing magical and everyone should go but please dont tell anyone wouldnt want to spoil such a treasure.