Important information from our cruise

We've been on a wonderful cruise in Southern Italy and Sicily. We were with my sister and brother-in-law on a small sailing ship. Chris will write more about the great trip but I couldn't wait to share some important new information. Both Chris and I prefer the basic pizza called Margherita everywhere. I had always wondered why the name was used everywhere. I now have the answer! It was named after Queen Margherita of Italy. She visited Naples in the 19th century shortly after Italy was unified. The pizza was created in her honor using the three colors of the Italian flag, In an expression of solidarity we have had pizza almost every day since we learned about it.

Postcard from Florence

THIS IS JUST A SMALL SAMPLE OF THE TINY VEHICLES WE CAME ACROSS WHILE HERE. THEY'RE ALL ELECTRIC AND MOST ARE USED TO TRANSPORT LOCAL WORKERS AND EQUIPMENT--EVERYTHING FROM BRICKS TO MAIL!

TO MARKET, TO MARKET

In Florence there are two main markets that are open daily to supply the pantry's of the locals. Today, our last day, we visited the Mercato Centrale. It is a covered food market, packed with stalls offering fruit, vegetables, fish, cheese, bread and as you can see a variety of interesting meats. We were amazed there isn't any part of the pig that isn't on display in the various stalls. Want an ear or nose for your stew--no problem, even intestines were readily available, we weren't quite sure for what. Not once have we seen anything that resembles what we saw at the market in any restaurant. Well maybe there were unidentifiable bits in the sopressata that filled our sandwich one day, but aside from that, no trotters, snouts or ears have been visible on any plate that we've seen!

While in Florence we've eaten more pizza in three weeks then in all the years we've known each other! More pizza even then gelatto! Every Enoteca, lunch spot and wine bar features the pizza in all it forms. From a plain margherita to something piled high with salad, veggies and meat of all sorts. Our favourite, and most expensive, was one that featured pecorino cheese and wild boar salami. That with a glass of Chianti Classico and we're set for the day! How will we ever be satisfied with the product we buy from Whole Foods???

As we prepare to leave this city, we're filling up with a last bite of cheese, nibbling on the wonderful foccacia we turned up in a small neighbourhood shop and wondering what delights await us as we head further south. It's been a three week adventure. One filled with incredible art, tasty food and learning about a culture that has surprised us in new ways, gotten us into a couple of real "pasticcios" (big trouble) and made us smile as we watched the interactions of the locals (especially the men); connected with travelers from all over the world especially Canadians and delighted in the sounds of our local church bells to keep the rhythm of our days.

Drinks with the Contessa

Many of you have, I know, experienced Paul's right hook in relation to a glass of wine--especially red wine. If not, just let me say that his 'best shot' occurred across the table from a woman dressed in a white suit--need I say more! It's been a source of many jokes at his expense and it keeps me on my toes trying to anticipate where I should be sitting and how I can best intervene while he's telling stories when there's wine on the table!



Well, the day has finally come, when I will NEVER be able to mention his 'wine shots' again. Yesterday, was a day I'll not long forget and not just because the stock market went down ANOTHER 500 points. We were shopping at a local gourmet store finding goodies for dinner when we ran into our landlady, the Contessa. It was a bit of a walk back to the apartment, she had rather a heavy package, a cane and given how gracious she's been to us, Paul volunteered to carry her groceries back--we were afterall going the same way. Once home, she invited us in for a cocktail and who could resist--I was dying to see her space. This apatment has 15 foot ceilings, a kitchen with a cooking spit large enough to roast a pig and a sink the size of a small bathtub. It's filled with Renisannce art, furnished with antiques and the two dogs who immediately jumped into our laps just completed the picture. Things were going well until I went into the room where I had left our groceries to put something away. A bag slipped and crashed to the floor which was concrete covered in clay tiles. You can probably guess this doesn't have a good ending and that it involves quantities of red wine! Right! Not only did the bottle smash, but the glass splintered and it rolled out of the bag! THE ENTIRE BOTTLE spilled on a rug that looked and probably was hundreds of years old! I WANTED TO DIE! Could I possibly ignore it and just pretend it didn't happen???? Would anyone notice???? NOT! Not only was there a puddle on the rug that looked like someone had been shot and killed on the spot, but there were splashes on the antique chairs she had pointed out that came from France and had been in the family for decades. Well, I was horrified, what to do, how could I begin to appologize??? In the end after picking up shards, sponging the chair (all traces came out--thank gawd), the housekeeper and her daughter carried the rug into the laundry room to try to spot clean what they could. With assurances that "it's alright", "these things happen" and on and on, we went back into the family room for our glass of wine, but I have to say, I was NOT comfortable and could hardly wait to escape.

American students are the new Mexicans

One of the most surprising things we've noticed is all the American "students" we've met working at different places in Florence. I use the term "students" loosely since not all of them are studying in the classical sense. And I also use the word "American" loosely since just today, we met a young Canadian who was working at a bio cheese producing farm.



The first one we noticed was at a farmers market. The butcher's assistant was from NJ, here for two years to study Italian, pig farming and butchering. We've met quite a few others at food related sites and markets, a gelato stand a restaurant and some who work as local tour guides. Most are on student visas and are now "illegal aliens" in Italy.



There are probably as many 'creative' ways to stay in a country as there are people seeking adventure. Where once, parents and/or their offspring spent hard earned cash to escape abroad and experience the Big 3 - wine, women and song, now there seem to be endless possibilities. These kids are working on farms! I assume they still find time for the big 3. One of the kids told us they were WWOOF -ing it - Willing Workers in Organic Farming. I kid you not. Check out their website. They're a global organization and provide inexpensive ways to 'work ones way' across many different countries. Who knows, we just might be tempted to come back to Italy in November -- we'll be just in time for the olive harvest!

A real "fiasco"

A REAL FIASCO

Welcome to the 900 year old Castello Trebbio, the former home of the Pazzi family in the Chianti region. This Castle has a famous and bloody history given that it was the place where the Pazzis tried to do away with the Medicis! The plot involved the Pope, the bishop of Pisa and the local church, but it was not to be. In the end, the entire Pazzi family along with the bishop were either tossed from the windows of the church or hung from the walls by their neck. Only one Pazzi family member, who was married to the sister ofthe Medici prince was allowed to live. Today, the castle houses a young family with two passions: wine making and pressing quality olive oil.

Our visit included tasting some interesting local wines, including a super-Tuscan called Pezzano and an interesting dessert wine called Vin Santo. Here, instead of dipping biscotti in coffee or tea, they dip it into the sweet wine--not a bad idea! This was also where we were surprised to learn of the origin of the word 'fiasco'. It seems that before there was any regulation for wine in the region, farmers blended whatever they had pressed, with whatever was available cheaply and bottled it in a straw covered bottle called the "Fiasco". If you're of the same vintage as us, you might have some fond memories of these straw bottles covered with wax drippings from many burning candles while sitting around listening to Jimmy Hendrix or the Stones. Boy, things sure have changed! The wine is better, not sure about the music.

Here the olive oil is still picked and pressed by hand and stored in large clay pots. Clay pots are now outlawed for mass production, but small boutique producers are still able to use the old methods. The 'extra virgin', first pressing is delicious. We've been amazed at how much olive oil is used here. The average Italian uses a liter a month. It's placed on the table with all food, drizzled on bread, pizza, soup and even some desserts. We've become even greater fans of this golden oil.

We've tasted many varieties, enjoying most; even one special reserve from the "Verrazano" cellars.

Postcard from Siena

When we leave the apartment in the morning, map in hand, there's no telling where we'll end up. The good news is that neither of us get too bent out of shape about losing our way - a good thing because we spend much of our time trying to figure out where we are and how we got there. The most common thing we say to each other is - NO! That's the wrong direction! It's amazing how difficult it is for us to navigate without the familiar grid.

This week, we visited Siena. We found our way to the bus station in time to get our scheduled bus. Once there however, we discovered that the resturant where we had booked lunch was 4 km out of town! They had told us it was across the street from the bus station; we assumed they meant the one where the bus from Florence stops. Wrong! After a ten minute discussion about what to do, we took a cab! The decision was justified because our lunch couldn't have been better: roasted pigeon on polenta and a saddle of rabbit served with local artichokes--delicious.

We really enjoyed wandering the streets of this medieval town. This is the place where the popular horse race the 'Palio' is run each summer. The colorful banners represent the flags of the 17 local neighborhoods or "contrata". People identify with these like a tribe. Each has a coat of arms, a flag, motto and a patron saint. In addition, specific crafts and guilds are associated with each area. The neighbourhoods mark their boundaries with the flag and many will only marry within their associated contrate. But the highlight each year is the Palio and what a race it is. The entire festival lasts for about a week and begins when the Piazza is filled with dirt and the stands are built for the spectators. Lots are drawn to see who will get to ride which horse and strategies and plots begin for how to win a race which runs for approximately 19 minutes! It's a day of pagentry, filled with excitement and the winner gets to proudly fly the winning banner all over their Contrate! We were here during the week of preparations one year and the level of excitement was electric. Our visit this year seemed much calmer.

So, back to our adventures. Heading for the bus we decided we had just enough time for a local Gelato--notice, we believed we were on the right track! It soon became clear that not only were we going in circles, but we were going in entirely the wrong direction. Our hope of catching the 6:10 was lost! Asking directions here didn't get us anywhere, because others like us, were just as perplexed by the twisty windy streets. In the end, we did manage to find the bus station, just in time for the next bus! The adventure continues--stay tuned.