Moving day for the troops. We are officially leaving the sleepy streets of Cortona for the bustling metropolis of Rome. Cam and I both woke up with a killer headache thanks to the Absenthe we drank last night. Though, we rallied ourselves, packed, and trudged up the hill to where the car was. Gunnar, Margie, Tom and Julie had left early. But my family, Cam's family and Leisha stuck around to look around the annual open-air market, and have coffee. And I needed coffee.
But all too soon it was over, so we said goodbye to the quaint town atop the hill and hit the road for Rome.
Now, if the two hour car ride wasn't enough, every time a motorcycle or car would get too close for comfort, Leisha would let out a scream that busted eardrums. I was thankful when we made it so that the ringing in my ears could die down.
We ditched the cars and crammed nine people into a Mercedes van and headed to town.
My dad had booked three nights at the St. Regis hotel, and I have to say it was the nicest hotel I've ever been in. Entering the lobby one would think they've stepped into the palace on Palatine Hill. I was tempted to ask if this was "Ceaser's Palace," but I think the joke would've been lost on the man behind the counter. We got our rooms, dropped off our bags and left for dinner. We stopped at a tasteful restaurant off the main drag. We sat outside in the narrow alleyway and sipped wine, making up for our real Italian experience we missed at Montepulchiano.
After returning to the hotel my parents and sister went to bed, but I went for a walk. I walked down Republica Square, the heart of Rome basically. Then I went down one of the busier streets. What I found was a city life I had never seen before. Shops were open til 1am or later, live music was being played on every street corner, everywhere I looked there was another twenty-something year-old beautiful Italian woman.
I went home after an hour tired, but very excited about exploring more tomorrow.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Monday, October 18, 2010
7-17-09
Sorry I haven't been posting, things got real. Now I'm in school again, studying business of all things... Ah, no matter, new journalism classes are on the way, and I'm sitting tight until then.
Today is Victoria's birthday, so you know it's going to be a special one. Cam and I took a lazy morning. Though, when we did decide to drag ourselves out of bed, we went downstairs to find a banquette of food waiting for us. French toast, gnocchi and a bounty of fresh fruit was a welcome sight for hungry eyes.
After breakfast I accompanied my family on a hike to see the sights we hadn't at the beginning of the week. In one of the churches, where stuffy air filtered the dusty light which angled itself through stained glass, there was a purported piece of the cross Christ was crucified on. True or not, it was the size of a dime and in a glass case, making it hard to take pictures of it. We visited St. Marguerite's Church, otherwise known as the oldest church in Cortona. My sister tried to get a picture with one a nun, but she ran into the church, her habit flapping wildly behind her as she retreated. We took a tour of the fortress atop the hill. We got to go out on the ramparts and get a panoramic view of Tuscany.
We drove to the pool, and after our sweltering hike, jumping into the cool water was a welcome refreshment. The others showed up, and we quickly made presence known. Cam performed a sideways backflip, causing the lifeguard to ban us from jumping in the pool. We protested, just like loudmouthed Americans should, but they still didn't let us jump.
At night we got all spiffed up and walked down to Republica Square where two hired cars waited to take us to the restaurant in the hills for Victoria's birthday. No expense was spared on the meal, which was succulent. Ashley, my sister, and I helped make the gnocchi. It was neat to learn real Italian cooking from real Italian cooks. My dad of course never stopped asking questions, he even started writing the recepies down on a scrap of paper he tore from a tablecloth.
We ate till we were stuffed, and drank all of their wine. We stumbled into the hired cars and made our way back to our warm beds. As I watched the great restaurant fade into an Italian night, I thought about the power of food and great cooking to bring people together. This was a treat, one birthday we won't readily forget.
Today is Victoria's birthday, so you know it's going to be a special one. Cam and I took a lazy morning. Though, when we did decide to drag ourselves out of bed, we went downstairs to find a banquette of food waiting for us. French toast, gnocchi and a bounty of fresh fruit was a welcome sight for hungry eyes.
After breakfast I accompanied my family on a hike to see the sights we hadn't at the beginning of the week. In one of the churches, where stuffy air filtered the dusty light which angled itself through stained glass, there was a purported piece of the cross Christ was crucified on. True or not, it was the size of a dime and in a glass case, making it hard to take pictures of it. We visited St. Marguerite's Church, otherwise known as the oldest church in Cortona. My sister tried to get a picture with one a nun, but she ran into the church, her habit flapping wildly behind her as she retreated. We took a tour of the fortress atop the hill. We got to go out on the ramparts and get a panoramic view of Tuscany.
We drove to the pool, and after our sweltering hike, jumping into the cool water was a welcome refreshment. The others showed up, and we quickly made presence known. Cam performed a sideways backflip, causing the lifeguard to ban us from jumping in the pool. We protested, just like loudmouthed Americans should, but they still didn't let us jump.
At night we got all spiffed up and walked down to Republica Square where two hired cars waited to take us to the restaurant in the hills for Victoria's birthday. No expense was spared on the meal, which was succulent. Ashley, my sister, and I helped make the gnocchi. It was neat to learn real Italian cooking from real Italian cooks. My dad of course never stopped asking questions, he even started writing the recepies down on a scrap of paper he tore from a tablecloth.
We ate till we were stuffed, and drank all of their wine. We stumbled into the hired cars and made our way back to our warm beds. As I watched the great restaurant fade into an Italian night, I thought about the power of food and great cooking to bring people together. This was a treat, one birthday we won't readily forget.
Monday, September 6, 2010
7-16-09
We leave Cortona for a day trip into Florence. I choose to go mainly because I had to get out of Cortona for a day. Don't get me wrong, Cortona is beautiful and exquisite and magical, but it is confining. I also want to partake in some people watching. Florence is awesome for people watching.
We take the train into town. It's about an hour and half trip sitting in coach with no air conditioning or fans. Come to find out my mom and Charlie had slipped into first class without realizing it. They had air conditioning and ice water, while we were stuck with parched mouths and back sweat.
We walked the promenade to the Ponte Veccio (a bridge in Florence famous for its shops). I drink an espresso at a cafe and Cameron eats gelato. Those who hadn't seen the David go to The Academia (which leaves Charlie, Victoria, my dad and me).
My dad and I visit the Medici Family tomb/museum. The Medici Family is the richest family in Italian history. They were merchants in the 1500's with ties to the Pope in Rome. Basically, they handled every banking transaction across the Mediterranean, so yeah, they're a pretty big deal. The shrines they built are amazing. All the art work was done by stone inlay. The coat of arms, which is a lion (go figure), is blue and the mane alone has 30 individual pieces of stone, which all fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. Extremely intricate.
We meet back up with everyone to go to the Duomo. I decide not to walk to the top and get a gelato instead. I wait on the sidewalk eating my gelato and watch the people. A Japanese tour stops in front of me admiring the Duomo. The tour guide speaks really fast and everyone is skinny and has black hair. They leave and another tour stops. They are all fat and flabby. Everyone is out of breath and looking for a place to sit down. The tour guide is speaking English. Before they leave I ask where they're from. A man, red-faced and sweating manages to wheeze out "Chicago." Boy do I love America.
Cam and I grab some fries from the McDonald's in the station before getting on the train to Cortona. We almost miss the final boarding call because the line was so long. It's even hotter in the train going back. About 100 degrees and Zero air flow. It's like sitting in a plastic bag between Ron Jeremy's ass cheeks. It doesn't help that Ashley and Erica are complaining about it all the way back to Cortona, but we arrive safe and sweaty, and excited about tomorrow's events!
We take the train into town. It's about an hour and half trip sitting in coach with no air conditioning or fans. Come to find out my mom and Charlie had slipped into first class without realizing it. They had air conditioning and ice water, while we were stuck with parched mouths and back sweat.
We walked the promenade to the Ponte Veccio (a bridge in Florence famous for its shops). I drink an espresso at a cafe and Cameron eats gelato. Those who hadn't seen the David go to The Academia (which leaves Charlie, Victoria, my dad and me).
My dad and I visit the Medici Family tomb/museum. The Medici Family is the richest family in Italian history. They were merchants in the 1500's with ties to the Pope in Rome. Basically, they handled every banking transaction across the Mediterranean, so yeah, they're a pretty big deal. The shrines they built are amazing. All the art work was done by stone inlay. The coat of arms, which is a lion (go figure), is blue and the mane alone has 30 individual pieces of stone, which all fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. Extremely intricate.
We meet back up with everyone to go to the Duomo. I decide not to walk to the top and get a gelato instead. I wait on the sidewalk eating my gelato and watch the people. A Japanese tour stops in front of me admiring the Duomo. The tour guide speaks really fast and everyone is skinny and has black hair. They leave and another tour stops. They are all fat and flabby. Everyone is out of breath and looking for a place to sit down. The tour guide is speaking English. Before they leave I ask where they're from. A man, red-faced and sweating manages to wheeze out "Chicago." Boy do I love America.
Cam and I grab some fries from the McDonald's in the station before getting on the train to Cortona. We almost miss the final boarding call because the line was so long. It's even hotter in the train going back. About 100 degrees and Zero air flow. It's like sitting in a plastic bag between Ron Jeremy's ass cheeks. It doesn't help that Ashley and Erica are complaining about it all the way back to Cortona, but we arrive safe and sweaty, and excited about tomorrow's events!
Thursday, August 26, 2010
7-15-09
The order of the day is wine tasting. We stop at 3 different wineries in Tuscany. The first one we visit is named S. Anna and it's located on the outskirts of a small town, whose name I forget. But what is interesting about this winery is the dedication to the art of wine making. The wine master, a older woman whose family has owned S. Anna for 200 years, describes the intricacies of wine making. Or at least she tried. We visited their cellars where moss grows 2 inches thick on the ceiling which gives the wine its musty aromas. She also tried to explain what to do with the caps that develop on the wine as it's being mixed in the tanks. The cap, she says, is a collection of grape skins, stems, and leaves which aren't filtered out during the draining sequence. They form a cap that floats on top of the wine, and it's the wine masters choice whether or not to leave it floating on top, or to pound it down into the wine, mixing the liquids and solids. She chooses to mix them because she feels that the acids and minerals in the stems and skins add to the overall aroma of the wine, giving it an extra layer.
I guess it was the authenticity of the place which sold me. That and the craftsmanship of the wine. I sipped and allowed the aromatic grape-juice to develop, catching all the subtle flavors that are the byproduct of a skill set developed over hundreds of years. We try Merlot, Zinfandel, Chianti, Cabernet and each has its own attitude. Considering the variety of flavors, you'd think each came from a different region in Italy. But no. They all come from grapes grown in their backyard. The wine is so good, Margie gets a little tipsy and jokes with Charlie about how he farted in the cellar. Which he did, and it was hilarious.
We move on to the other wineries, but honestly, they were factory-like and unauthentic. Which took its toll on their wine. They were mostly flat and drab.
Naturally, we are a little screwy after the 3rd winery visit and hungry. We go to a town called Montepulchiano, which sits atop a hill (don't they all in Tuscany?). We get word that there is a restaurant near the middle of town which used to house Hemingway back when he was a world traveler. But because it's too early (around 4:30) they aren't serving dinner, and nobody is willing to wait till 7, so we trudge on (after I had a peek into the restaurant of course). Our saliva is dripping as we think about the authentic Italian cuisine that is surely awaiting us as the top of the hill.
We sit at a table outside and order beer and wine. We choose from plastic menus, me - chicken carbonara. It's weird though, whenever someone orders a dish the waitor says something like; "Oh, I think we have one more of those." or "I'm sorry we don't have anymore of that dish." What's stranger still is that he seems to be keeping a tally and is checking it after each person orders. Then he brings out plastic utensils to be used for our authentic Italian meals. Our worst fears are realized when he brings out what are essentially TV dinners. Complete with plastic covers, straight from the microwave. I can't help but laugh. Here we are faded on wine, sweaty and and hungry, in the heartland of Italian cooking, a short walk from Hemingway's eatery, and we're stuck with Stouffers and Lean Cuisine. MmmMmmMmmMmmMmm, plasticy.
I guess it was the authenticity of the place which sold me. That and the craftsmanship of the wine. I sipped and allowed the aromatic grape-juice to develop, catching all the subtle flavors that are the byproduct of a skill set developed over hundreds of years. We try Merlot, Zinfandel, Chianti, Cabernet and each has its own attitude. Considering the variety of flavors, you'd think each came from a different region in Italy. But no. They all come from grapes grown in their backyard. The wine is so good, Margie gets a little tipsy and jokes with Charlie about how he farted in the cellar. Which he did, and it was hilarious.
We move on to the other wineries, but honestly, they were factory-like and unauthentic. Which took its toll on their wine. They were mostly flat and drab.
Naturally, we are a little screwy after the 3rd winery visit and hungry. We go to a town called Montepulchiano, which sits atop a hill (don't they all in Tuscany?). We get word that there is a restaurant near the middle of town which used to house Hemingway back when he was a world traveler. But because it's too early (around 4:30) they aren't serving dinner, and nobody is willing to wait till 7, so we trudge on (after I had a peek into the restaurant of course). Our saliva is dripping as we think about the authentic Italian cuisine that is surely awaiting us as the top of the hill.
We sit at a table outside and order beer and wine. We choose from plastic menus, me - chicken carbonara. It's weird though, whenever someone orders a dish the waitor says something like; "Oh, I think we have one more of those." or "I'm sorry we don't have anymore of that dish." What's stranger still is that he seems to be keeping a tally and is checking it after each person orders. Then he brings out plastic utensils to be used for our authentic Italian meals. Our worst fears are realized when he brings out what are essentially TV dinners. Complete with plastic covers, straight from the microwave. I can't help but laugh. Here we are faded on wine, sweaty and and hungry, in the heartland of Italian cooking, a short walk from Hemingway's eatery, and we're stuck with Stouffers and Lean Cuisine. MmmMmmMmmMmmMmm, plasticy.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
7-14-09
"I have no talent, I'm just passionately curious" - Einstein
Today we visited Siena. A tasteful town that lies and hour and a half west of Cortona. We had no trouble finding the town, but parking was another story. My dad and Charlie dropped all of us off by the side of the road saying, "Just a minute! We have to find parking." So we waited, and waited. We entertained ourselves by playing the category game (where you pick a category and go through the alphabet and try to come up with names within the category starting with the corresponding letter of the alphabet). The Google Maps machine ghosted by us on its never-ending quest of world documentation. I waved, but the others were too stroked out they simply reposed on the curb like zombies at a vegetarian potluck. Finally, after 45 minutes of waiting in the hot Tuscan sun, Charlies white tuft of hair was seen glistening as he labored up the steep Italian cobblestones. But he was alone. He told us Lee had split off to find parking in some other section of the city. I said, "Knowing him, he's already found a restaurant and is halfway through his second beer." So we began walking to the main square.
Once we got there, I spotted my dad sitting at a table sipping a beer and looking as cool as a cucumber. He greeted us as we sat down and ordered drinks. I looked out into the square that was lined with red-bricked buildings separated by cobblestone walkways which fed the open space with a steady stream of sightseers and sleepy souls. We ate our assigned appetizers ardently assuming that afterwards we'd ascertain some awesome-tasting entrees. Which we did. But as the conversation waned my appetite for gelato grew. So Cam and I quickly made our way from the restaurant to the parlor where we ate scoops of scrumptious frozen treats and talked to tribes of titillatingly tantalizing head-turners. But soon it was time to go, so we met up with the rents and left Siena as we found it: A somber, sunbaked city swirling with smiling strumpets and series of century-old stringent stores full of lip-smacking sweets.
Today we visited Siena. A tasteful town that lies and hour and a half west of Cortona. We had no trouble finding the town, but parking was another story. My dad and Charlie dropped all of us off by the side of the road saying, "Just a minute! We have to find parking." So we waited, and waited. We entertained ourselves by playing the category game (where you pick a category and go through the alphabet and try to come up with names within the category starting with the corresponding letter of the alphabet). The Google Maps machine ghosted by us on its never-ending quest of world documentation. I waved, but the others were too stroked out they simply reposed on the curb like zombies at a vegetarian potluck. Finally, after 45 minutes of waiting in the hot Tuscan sun, Charlies white tuft of hair was seen glistening as he labored up the steep Italian cobblestones. But he was alone. He told us Lee had split off to find parking in some other section of the city. I said, "Knowing him, he's already found a restaurant and is halfway through his second beer." So we began walking to the main square.
Once we got there, I spotted my dad sitting at a table sipping a beer and looking as cool as a cucumber. He greeted us as we sat down and ordered drinks. I looked out into the square that was lined with red-bricked buildings separated by cobblestone walkways which fed the open space with a steady stream of sightseers and sleepy souls. We ate our assigned appetizers ardently assuming that afterwards we'd ascertain some awesome-tasting entrees. Which we did. But as the conversation waned my appetite for gelato grew. So Cam and I quickly made our way from the restaurant to the parlor where we ate scoops of scrumptious frozen treats and talked to tribes of titillatingly tantalizing head-turners. But soon it was time to go, so we met up with the rents and left Siena as we found it: A somber, sunbaked city swirling with smiling strumpets and series of century-old stringent stores full of lip-smacking sweets.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
7-13-09
This is my last post for awhile as I am traveling to Shasta with my family for the week. I will be busy wakeboarding and basking in the glory of the summer months and will have no time to update this tell-all tale. So now you know.
My mom and sister (Erica) arrived by train at Cortona. "Finally!" said my mom as she embraced my dad and me, "you wouldn't believe the train system here." And right she was. Trying to navigate a metro system is hard enough when the signs are in English! And next to impossible when they are in Italian or German. However, with a little help from the natives (mainly finger pointing and short phrases spoken in broken English) they made it. But before they arrived...
My dad and I went for a drive on the country roads that surround the sleepy Tuscan town. We stopped at a restaurant which had been converted from a mansion-villa. It was so big we spent 20 minutes searching for someone to sell us a couple cokes. Once we did, we sat on the portico overlooking the valley and lake. We sat and sipped as an old man watched us from a few tables away. He was nicely dressed in a summer suit and panama hat. Just a curious old Italian man living out the last days of his life watching strange tourists sip Coca-Cola and speak funny languages. We asked him if he spoke English, and he replied by shaking his finger and saying, "No No," urging us to continue our conversation as if he wasn't there. So we did, and left shortly after finishing our sodas.
That night we met with Margie, Gunner, Julie and Tom (friends of Charlie and Victoria). Margie is the life of any party, she's loud and vivacious, the instant friend. Gunner is Margie's husband. He is a large German purebred who loves to cook and take pictures. Tom is Gunner's kitchen partner, meaning they cook together in the kitchen. Tom loves European history and has a sharp pallet for wine. Julie - Tom's wife - is somewhat reserved and soft spoken, but loves to laugh. Thankfully these four personalities have opened their villa for Cameron and I. Otherwise, we'd be stuck with sharing a couch - which would get old quickly. And the bonus is that we're staying with two gourmet chefs! How's that for a touche?
When evening rolled around, Cam, Charlie and I we went out for drinks at a bar in town. I had a Screwdriver (Orange juice/Vodka - a classic, I found you drink many of them in college) and Cam had a Sidecar (1 part Brandy, 1 part Cointreau, 1 part lemon juice - I was suprised he didn't just order "One Appletini please" and when told it's 6 euros say, "Oh my! I'll have to get my checkbook out of my man purse! Just one moment honey!" with a wink and slap of the butt.) I sat listening to Charlie and Cam bicker about this and that, slowly getting drunk. Charlie left after awhile to find the grown ups, so Cam and I upped the ante. We ordered two Absinthe (for those who've never had Absinthe, it is a neon green drink that needs to be sterilized by burning sugar cubes before being poured over ice. It is said to have psychedelic effects, but all I got was some heightened color which could have been due to the alcohol. Did I mention it tastes like black licorice?)
After the Absinthe we were both in the mood to find girls. We found a couple sitting on the church steps in the main square. One spoke awesome English because it was her first language. The other spoke none. We sat on the steps talking until 1am, and just as I was about to make the move and invite my girl back with me she said, "Oops! Sorry it's late, we have to go." Even Italian girls have curfews, so we headed back to the villa for some sleep.
Now before we left for the bars, Gunner pulled us aside and said, "Listen, we don't care what time you get back, just make sure to keep quite when going to your room." How hard could it be, right? Wrong. There is nothing harder to do than sneak into a century old villa drunk on Absinthe. If you ever did it, I applaud you because Cam and I failed. We were giggling and bumping into things, opening doors and eating bread, I was amazed nobody woke up. We miraculously found our beds on the fourth floor and passed out. I realized after piecing my night together - lots of Absinthe = hazy, hazy, hazy night. Just a warning.
My mom and sister (Erica) arrived by train at Cortona. "Finally!" said my mom as she embraced my dad and me, "you wouldn't believe the train system here." And right she was. Trying to navigate a metro system is hard enough when the signs are in English! And next to impossible when they are in Italian or German. However, with a little help from the natives (mainly finger pointing and short phrases spoken in broken English) they made it. But before they arrived...
My dad and I went for a drive on the country roads that surround the sleepy Tuscan town. We stopped at a restaurant which had been converted from a mansion-villa. It was so big we spent 20 minutes searching for someone to sell us a couple cokes. Once we did, we sat on the portico overlooking the valley and lake. We sat and sipped as an old man watched us from a few tables away. He was nicely dressed in a summer suit and panama hat. Just a curious old Italian man living out the last days of his life watching strange tourists sip Coca-Cola and speak funny languages. We asked him if he spoke English, and he replied by shaking his finger and saying, "No No," urging us to continue our conversation as if he wasn't there. So we did, and left shortly after finishing our sodas.
That night we met with Margie, Gunner, Julie and Tom (friends of Charlie and Victoria). Margie is the life of any party, she's loud and vivacious, the instant friend. Gunner is Margie's husband. He is a large German purebred who loves to cook and take pictures. Tom is Gunner's kitchen partner, meaning they cook together in the kitchen. Tom loves European history and has a sharp pallet for wine. Julie - Tom's wife - is somewhat reserved and soft spoken, but loves to laugh. Thankfully these four personalities have opened their villa for Cameron and I. Otherwise, we'd be stuck with sharing a couch - which would get old quickly. And the bonus is that we're staying with two gourmet chefs! How's that for a touche?
When evening rolled around, Cam, Charlie and I we went out for drinks at a bar in town. I had a Screwdriver (Orange juice/Vodka - a classic, I found you drink many of them in college) and Cam had a Sidecar (1 part Brandy, 1 part Cointreau, 1 part lemon juice - I was suprised he didn't just order "One Appletini please" and when told it's 6 euros say, "Oh my! I'll have to get my checkbook out of my man purse! Just one moment honey!" with a wink and slap of the butt.) I sat listening to Charlie and Cam bicker about this and that, slowly getting drunk. Charlie left after awhile to find the grown ups, so Cam and I upped the ante. We ordered two Absinthe (for those who've never had Absinthe, it is a neon green drink that needs to be sterilized by burning sugar cubes before being poured over ice. It is said to have psychedelic effects, but all I got was some heightened color which could have been due to the alcohol. Did I mention it tastes like black licorice?)
After the Absinthe we were both in the mood to find girls. We found a couple sitting on the church steps in the main square. One spoke awesome English because it was her first language. The other spoke none. We sat on the steps talking until 1am, and just as I was about to make the move and invite my girl back with me she said, "Oops! Sorry it's late, we have to go." Even Italian girls have curfews, so we headed back to the villa for some sleep.
Now before we left for the bars, Gunner pulled us aside and said, "Listen, we don't care what time you get back, just make sure to keep quite when going to your room." How hard could it be, right? Wrong. There is nothing harder to do than sneak into a century old villa drunk on Absinthe. If you ever did it, I applaud you because Cam and I failed. We were giggling and bumping into things, opening doors and eating bread, I was amazed nobody woke up. We miraculously found our beds on the fourth floor and passed out. I realized after piecing my night together - lots of Absinthe = hazy, hazy, hazy night. Just a warning.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
7-12-09
And here's a poem I wrote -
The clouds in the sky
were drifting by
like quiet giants
stepping deftly over pastures green.
First full day in Cortona! And what a town it is! For one, it sits up on a hill overlooking all of Tuscany. We walked to the top, and from there we caught a glimpse of a thousand acres of vineyards dotted with towns and yellow Sunflowers.
This morning we got up early. My dad went for a run, and I wrote. When he got back we had breakfast, got ready for the day and went for a walk. We walked to the church atop the hill, but were shooed away by a troop of flustered nuns who said "our knees weren't covered, so we couldn't come in." (Well, in so many words, they mostly pointed at our uncovered knees and yelled 'Diavolo! Diavolo!' which is 'come back later' in Italian, I think.) So instead we walked around the outside and then up to a fortress that lay on the very top of the hill. We spoke of its fortifications. I said it was genius placement because you could see your enemy from miles away, and if you ever were attacked, it would be difficult for them to storm such a steep hill. Just below the fortress lay three giant sandstones that were perfect seats to rest on during the heat of the day. While sitting on these stones I noticed a clear blue lake in the distance. Its shimmering blue waters reminded me of Suttle Lake in Central Oregon.
We descended to the church again. Sunday Mass was starting, and as we walked down the main road old women hunched over the wheels of their tiny Eurocars rambled past us on their way to church. We saw families, single women, men, fathers and sons, grandpas and grandmas all heading up the hill on their way to Mass. I pitied them and admired them for their brazen belief in God. How easy it must be for them to sleep at night thinking there is someone watching over them. Someone who really cares for their well being, hoho!
Farther down the hill we came to a turnoff where we saw a sign for "La Pisina", (which is pool in Italian). We took it and stumbled upon an oasis in the hills. Where we stood, which was on the backside of Cortona, was perched a pool, tennis court, soccer or 'futbol' field, and a restaurant! All overlooking the beautiful Tuscan valley! 'This must be paradise,' I thought to myself as I surveyed the scene. My dad ordered two waters and we sat on the terrace soaking in the warm summer breezes. I watched in awe as the lifeguard went about his job, which I learned was anything but. He would stand at the pool for 20 seconds, then he'd walk to the restaurant and talk to a chef or waitress, then he'd grab a cigarette from behind the bar and while smoking he'd adjust his skimpy speedo onesy. After, he'd loaf back to the pool and begin the process again. And I thought our jobs were easy!
After finishing my dad made an exit to look around the restaurant, and I went to the bar to talk to the cute girl mixing drinks. She took my empty bottle with a "Grazie" and a sweet smile and I about lost it. It's not many times in a boys life when he is confronted with absolute beauty. The type of beauty that is a byproduct of eating olive oil and fresh basil for the bulk of one's life. She was wearing a loose fitting white tanktop and her eyes were almond colored, same as her sunkissed skin. Her name is Lisa (pronounced Liza) from Cortona, whose been to Los Angeles and New York and enjoys reading Romance novels. Ah Liza, how beautiful.
We walked back to town via a goat trail carved into the hillside. When we got back to our villa we had a helping of Prochutto salad on toasted bagettes with beer. We talked about who'd we invite to a dinner party if we could invite anyone. I said Bukowski, Franklin, Groucho, Allen, Kurosawa, Pryor, Orwell and Thompson. My dad came up with Jesus, Bill Gates, Churchill, Jefferson and Morrison. After, we were drained and had to sleep. When we awoke Charlie, Victoria, Cameron, Ashley (next door neighbors from long ago) and their friend Leisha had arrived from Rome. And what better way to celebrate than to head into town and drink? So we did.
We stopped at a local bar, the adults (my dad, Charlie, Victoria, Leisha) went to sit at one table, and Cameron (a year older than yours truly), his sister Ashley (my sister's age) and I went to sit at another table. We ordered a round of drinks, Cameron a 'Sex on the Beach' (we gave him soo much crap for that), Ashley a beer (my kind of girl), and me a 'White Russian' (because 'The Dude abides.") We sucked those down and ordered something a bit stronger so we went with the "Harvey Wallbanger*." (*just for clarification, a Harvey Wallbanger is called such because after a few, don't be surprised if you are banging against a wall and introducing yourself as "Harvey, from accounting!") They brought the Harveys with finger-food, hoping that a few watercress crackers would offset the massive amount of alcohol being dumped into our system. The Bangers went down a bit more slowly, and after I had a pretty good buzz. I remember Cam saying, "Hey lets get another drink! One we've never had before!" I nodded in approval and said, "Pick one!" He chose one called "Horses Neck", which turned out to be whiskey and lemon with ice. Cam hates whiskey, but we drank those and ate finger sandwiches and felt very European.
Afterwards, we made our way to dinner. We ate like kings, slopping up the excess alfredo with slices of fresh Italian baguettes and downing more beer. Just as our dinner was ending, a festival began in the square below us. We sat watching the flag throwers and dancers twirl and shake while listening to the folk band churning out traditional Tuscan dance songs. It was the perfect ending to our first day in Cortona!
The clouds in the sky
were drifting by
like quiet giants
stepping deftly over pastures green.
First full day in Cortona! And what a town it is! For one, it sits up on a hill overlooking all of Tuscany. We walked to the top, and from there we caught a glimpse of a thousand acres of vineyards dotted with towns and yellow Sunflowers.
This morning we got up early. My dad went for a run, and I wrote. When he got back we had breakfast, got ready for the day and went for a walk. We walked to the church atop the hill, but were shooed away by a troop of flustered nuns who said "our knees weren't covered, so we couldn't come in." (Well, in so many words, they mostly pointed at our uncovered knees and yelled 'Diavolo! Diavolo!' which is 'come back later' in Italian, I think.) So instead we walked around the outside and then up to a fortress that lay on the very top of the hill. We spoke of its fortifications. I said it was genius placement because you could see your enemy from miles away, and if you ever were attacked, it would be difficult for them to storm such a steep hill. Just below the fortress lay three giant sandstones that were perfect seats to rest on during the heat of the day. While sitting on these stones I noticed a clear blue lake in the distance. Its shimmering blue waters reminded me of Suttle Lake in Central Oregon.
We descended to the church again. Sunday Mass was starting, and as we walked down the main road old women hunched over the wheels of their tiny Eurocars rambled past us on their way to church. We saw families, single women, men, fathers and sons, grandpas and grandmas all heading up the hill on their way to Mass. I pitied them and admired them for their brazen belief in God. How easy it must be for them to sleep at night thinking there is someone watching over them. Someone who really cares for their well being, hoho!
Farther down the hill we came to a turnoff where we saw a sign for "La Pisina", (which is pool in Italian). We took it and stumbled upon an oasis in the hills. Where we stood, which was on the backside of Cortona, was perched a pool, tennis court, soccer or 'futbol' field, and a restaurant! All overlooking the beautiful Tuscan valley! 'This must be paradise,' I thought to myself as I surveyed the scene. My dad ordered two waters and we sat on the terrace soaking in the warm summer breezes. I watched in awe as the lifeguard went about his job, which I learned was anything but. He would stand at the pool for 20 seconds, then he'd walk to the restaurant and talk to a chef or waitress, then he'd grab a cigarette from behind the bar and while smoking he'd adjust his skimpy speedo onesy. After, he'd loaf back to the pool and begin the process again. And I thought our jobs were easy!
After finishing my dad made an exit to look around the restaurant, and I went to the bar to talk to the cute girl mixing drinks. She took my empty bottle with a "Grazie" and a sweet smile and I about lost it. It's not many times in a boys life when he is confronted with absolute beauty. The type of beauty that is a byproduct of eating olive oil and fresh basil for the bulk of one's life. She was wearing a loose fitting white tanktop and her eyes were almond colored, same as her sunkissed skin. Her name is Lisa (pronounced Liza) from Cortona, whose been to Los Angeles and New York and enjoys reading Romance novels. Ah Liza, how beautiful.
We walked back to town via a goat trail carved into the hillside. When we got back to our villa we had a helping of Prochutto salad on toasted bagettes with beer. We talked about who'd we invite to a dinner party if we could invite anyone. I said Bukowski, Franklin, Groucho, Allen, Kurosawa, Pryor, Orwell and Thompson. My dad came up with Jesus, Bill Gates, Churchill, Jefferson and Morrison. After, we were drained and had to sleep. When we awoke Charlie, Victoria, Cameron, Ashley (next door neighbors from long ago) and their friend Leisha had arrived from Rome. And what better way to celebrate than to head into town and drink? So we did.
We stopped at a local bar, the adults (my dad, Charlie, Victoria, Leisha) went to sit at one table, and Cameron (a year older than yours truly), his sister Ashley (my sister's age) and I went to sit at another table. We ordered a round of drinks, Cameron a 'Sex on the Beach' (we gave him soo much crap for that), Ashley a beer (my kind of girl), and me a 'White Russian' (because 'The Dude abides.") We sucked those down and ordered something a bit stronger so we went with the "Harvey Wallbanger*." (*just for clarification, a Harvey Wallbanger is called such because after a few, don't be surprised if you are banging against a wall and introducing yourself as "Harvey, from accounting!") They brought the Harveys with finger-food, hoping that a few watercress crackers would offset the massive amount of alcohol being dumped into our system. The Bangers went down a bit more slowly, and after I had a pretty good buzz. I remember Cam saying, "Hey lets get another drink! One we've never had before!" I nodded in approval and said, "Pick one!" He chose one called "Horses Neck", which turned out to be whiskey and lemon with ice. Cam hates whiskey, but we drank those and ate finger sandwiches and felt very European.
Afterwards, we made our way to dinner. We ate like kings, slopping up the excess alfredo with slices of fresh Italian baguettes and downing more beer. Just as our dinner was ending, a festival began in the square below us. We sat watching the flag throwers and dancers twirl and shake while listening to the folk band churning out traditional Tuscan dance songs. It was the perfect ending to our first day in Cortona!
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