All the Water and None of the Sand
I can’t tell you what a delight it is to get a Google alert from out-of-the-blue, notifying you that someone has said something nice about something you’ve done. Alison and I worked very hard to make France: Instuctions for Use a useful pub, and a worthy follow-up to Italy: Instuctions for Use; according to Cherie Thiessen of January Magazine, we succeeded:
I’d have bought the book for only this one piece of advice, which I happily learned before the plane’s wheels smacked the runway.
… always to be the first to say bonjour… anything else is unfathomable, and will be considered downright rude.
What great advice this was! Time and time again we saw dour faces transformed by a mere “bonjour madame,” and helpful suggestions offered in response to our “Bonjour monsieur. Pouvez-vous m’aider?”
We are very flattered. Merci, Cherie.
The first thing I did when I awoke this morning (excited to head for the remiera, as we were in caorlina to accompany the Doge in his Buccintoro for the Festa della Sensa) was to check the results of the 134th Run for the Roses.
People ask, what do you miss about the States? It’s not dryers, it’s not garbage disposals; it’s certainly not having a car. It’s things like the inevitable tearing up along with 150,000+ Churchill Downs attendees as the band tunes My Old Kentucky Home prior to unleashing twenty powerful three-years-olds to pound their hearts out in a race some call the most exciting two minutes in sports.
I have the most resourceful friends. Two of them live in Florence, and are a “set,” even though they are not married (to each other or anyone else), and live in case separate. If you met them, you’d think they’d been sposati for eons; and although they’ve been a couple for some time now, it has seemed that way to me from the second day of their relationship. When you think as much as I do of Gabriella and Roberto, you’re happy not only that they’re friends of yours, but that two such extraordinary people managed, however it occurred, to find each other.

Aside from being resourceful, these two are also curious and exuberant travelers. Sicilia, Zanzibar, Istanbul, Cuba, China, Greece, Denmark? was it? and all over Europe, anywhere, independent, group if necessary, whenever they can manage it. Even in this they are well matched: when she can escape the demands of her position as the long-time owner of a translation/interpretation business, Gabriella is willing to go anywhere, and Roberto is perfectly happy even to drive her there (while she naps, usually), at least for destinations not too far afield. They’re economical travelers as well, characteristically, as they feel it’s a way to get a truer feel for the culture — that being a primary reason for their traveling in the first place.
This is the way owners of Irish B&Bs greet you on arrival: You’re welcome, they tell you. It’s utterly disarming, charming…and you believe them. Below is a slideshow summary of a frantic five days along Ireland’s dramatic west coast, touring both popular and some lesser-known sites (Cliffs of Moher, Aran Islands’ Inisheer, the Burren, along the coast to Galway), then across to Dublin on our final day where we departed for Venice at 6a.
Managed another scapata down to Firenze and Val d’Elsa combining business and pleasure, with one of the pleasure parts being a second Saturday morning scapata to abandon the Florence forno for the rugged Tuscan shores south of Livorno. Roberto and Gabriella make this a habit when they can’t slip away for longer, and I learned it indeed makes a great half-day getaway.
We were on the road by 7a.m., to beat traffic and make sure to be able to find a roadside parking place once we arrived. We stopped on the way out of town for un caffè, because, well…it’s necessary, that’s all; un tappo obbligatorio. As I was trying to decide on a brioche with or without marmellata, I heard some discussion of my name. This is normal anytime I tell someone come mi chiamo., as although it is only three letters, the vowel sound is wholly unpronounceable in Italian: nin? nenna? nahnna? Com’è? goes the conversation, always. Explaining that it’s short for Nancy seems to provide some relief, but I become Nancy from then on (who’s Nancy?).
A couple of friends I had not seen in years let me know they would be in Ravenna for two weeks at a language school, and after much organizing and reorganizing we managed to make a plan to connect for an overnight in Ferrara, a point halfway between us. I had not visited to Ferrara since I studied in Bologna over a decade ago, and remembering how much I liked it, was delighted to have both the excuse and the time to return.
First filly to win the Belmont in over 100 years, first ever at a mile-and-a-half, and with such panache. Girl, you go. Here’s the article…
http://sports.espn.go.com/sports/horse/index
…and the race (hold on to your hats).
You can take the girl outta Kentucky… (yeah, lulu)
Venetian video, this? Macchè! But ragazzi, they don’t make ‘em any better, anywhere. Grand, veteran cantanti Mina and Adriano Celentano portray a couple of animated fowl with some touchy domestic issues: she can’t cook, and until he puts a little more effort into the bedroom department, she ain’t learnin’, either. Italian language students, listen for the “southern” accent; and see if you can spot at least one take-off on a famous Mastroianni-Loren film scene…
It gets more enjoyable every time you watch it…credimi.
Here’s a all-too-quickly assembled slideshow turned video from an all-too-quick trip across France, taking advantage of the excellent myair.com fares from Venice to Bordeaux, and Nancy back to Venice, with all the France I could manage in between. The goal (OK, the excuse) was testing out Paris resident and travel writer Alison Culliford’s content for the upcoming France: Instructions for Use (it was only a matter of time…and the right writer, of course).
I’m unexpectedly captivated by the oddest things.
We we had the pleasure to dine recently at Vini da Gigio, and to accompany dinner, co-owner Paolo brought us a Blauburgunder Pinot Nero (that’s what Blauburgunder means in German, I’m told). He didn’t open it with his usual panache, i.e., with his preferred cavatappi, though. He couldn’t, because the stopper was made of glass.
I finally managed just a few of days out of Venice…one of which I spent in Bologna, indulging in Mimma’s cooking, and running a few errands in the center, something I never have time for a Venezia. Mary Tolaro-Noyes, (http://www.noyesfamily.com) who’s been compiling a Bologna guide, is there for the fall, and she came for the meal and the wandering both. She asked if I’d seen the recent library relocation and renovation, and I had not…what a treat!