Hilltowns and Castles

Don and I have been touring around the Tuscan countryside and visting nearby hill towns.  This time of year there are not many people around.  A couple of times now we have felt as if we were the only people in a town, nice, but also kind of creepy....like a ghost town.

Yesterday we went to Pienza again  as we could not seem to connect to the internet at the hotel.  The town seemed deserted. We found an internet cafe and checked email and I posted here. I am still trying to find the organic farm that Isabella brings her clients to, but my GPS does not recognize it's address.  Perhaps I will give up and visit another  farm instead.  I know there is an organic farm near Montipuliciano which sounds interesting.  I was hoping to find a local market nearby but they dont seem to occur often now that the tourist season is drawing to a close.  Even Castelmuzio is different now.  There are far fewer people around and the locals seem to be wearing heavy coats already, but it isn't even cold here yet.  The olive harvest is in full swing and apparently there is an olive mill near town although I havent found it yet.  The vineyards are painted in colours of gold and red and the colourful leaves have started to fall from the vines.  There isn't much fall colour here compared to Canada, but the landscapes have changed from even a week ago.  The ploughed fields were shades of beige dirt last week but now they are various shades of bright green.  The winter wheat has sprouted and a field's colour is dependant on what day it was planted. The brighter fields were planted first.  From a distance it looks like a patchwork quilt of greens and beiges.  The bright green is a sharp contrast to the grey green of the olive trees and the dark green of the many cypress trees. 

The woods are painted in rust and gold with a few oranges and reds spead about sparingly.  The air is crisp but not particularly cold, perfect weather for walking.  The evenings are colder and we are enjoying the fireplace and preparing our evening meals together.  There will be a full moon tonight so we may venture out for an evening walk.  This afternoon we will visit Montipuliciano.(photos below)

Caio for now
Diane

November in Tuscany

The weather has started to remind me of fall at home.  The days are still quite warm but as soon as the sun is gone the temperature drops to between 10 and 15 degrees Celsius.  It’s still warmer than Canada this time of year.  

Olive harvesting is in full swing now and it is interesting to watch the method used here.  Huge fine nets are laid on the ground under the trees.  Frames are used to hold nets up to catch olives that might roll away on steep hills or where branches reach out over the roads.  Workers use ladders to reach into the trees where they use small hand rakes to gently pull the olives from the trees.   The ladder may need to be repositioned many times while working your way around the tree to reach all of the olives. This work can be quite precarious as most olive groves are planted on steep hills where it is difficult to find a level spot to position a ladder.  It is also a slow process as it is all done manually.  When one section of the grove has been harvested, the big nets, full of olives, are gathered up and emptied into large bins.  The full bins are taken to a local olive mill where the fruit is cold pressed to produce precious olive oil.

I had hoped to participate in the olive harvest but apparently there are insurance issues due to the danger of falling.  I suppose it is just as well as I am afraid of heights anyway, and now that Don is here I have been quite busy.  We have been touring around the area and visiting other local towns.  Don is wishing he had his Goldwing to drive on the twisty roads, just as I thought he would.  However, I would rather he didn’t drive my car like he was on his bike....he is a great driver but it seems these roads make me more nervous as a passenger than as a driver.  We drove through the Crete Sensi the other day and my heart was in my throat the entire way. We were on our way to visit Siena.  The views are spectacular but the landscapes there are so different from elsewhere in Tuscany. The hills are so steep that farm tractors have tracks like tanks or bulldozers and the soil is lumpy clay varying in colour from red to pale beige.   We watched a farmer planting a crop of winter wheat which is the reason for the emerald green often seen on the hills of Tuscany in winter.  There are few trees in this area, save for the beautiful cypresses surrounding houses and lining driveways.  Ploughed fields stretch for miles, their fluid contours rippling as if liquid.   Blacktop roads snake around hills and along ridges between deep valleys. White roads, intersecting them at steep angles, lead to distant farmhouses and villas.  It almost seems like a desert here with so little vegetation, hills resembling dunes, and soils the colour of sand.

In Siena we reserved a trip on an old steam train to a nearby village to enjoy the white truffle festival.  The scenery is apparently spectacular and, since neither of us will be driving, we will be able to enjoy it together.  We will also book a tour to see castles in Chianti with wine tastings, and a dinner of Florentine Steak at an agritourismo.  We will stay a few nights in Siena to give us time to take in the sights and visit other towns nearby.  From there we are off to Florence for a few days to take in the Academia, where Michelangelo’s statue of David is housed, and the Uffizi gallery.  Of course we will also visit the Duomo and Baptistery doors and visit some leather and jewellery shops too.  We also want to visit Venice and maybe even Milan.  We are both taking lots of photos so I will have plenty of things to paint when we get back home.

I have been enjoying Don’s company and having someone to cook for. We have only had dinner out once in the past week.  The time is going by so quickly, it’s hard to believe we will back home in 27 days!

Ciao for now

Diane

Devistation in the Cinque Terre

Today I am remembering my time in the Cinque Terre in September of  this year.  The town where I stayed is one of the worst hit by the flooding.  Vernazza is under 10 feet of mud and debris.  It is hardly recognizable and they have no idea yet of the number dead and missing.  The town was virtually cut off from the rest of the world, roads washed out, telephone and hydro lines down, no gas, fresh water, or oiutside help.
The town sits along steep hills leading down to the sea and with the heavy rains earlier this week much of the steep slopes were washed away causing a sea of mud and debris to literaly bulldoze all in its way along its path to the sea. Hiking trails are gone, first floor shops along the main street are completely buried in mud.  People and even some houses were swept away. People trapped in the Blue Marlin are grateful to the propieter who was able to knock a hole in a wall so that people could crawl up to the second story; which saved their lives.


It is hard to beleve that this pretty little village may never be the same again.  I treasure my painting of the town now more than ever.  I am particularly pleased that I spent an entire day there, sitting along the sea wall, sketching the town.  I have a new reason to finish that sketch now.

Today rescue teams have finally arrived to begin the massive job of evacuation and clean up.  Heavy machinery had to be brought in on a barge pulled by many tug boats.  The bulldozers have partially cleared a path down the main street but the piles of debris on either side of the path are metres high.  This is allowing rescue teams to evacuate any survivors they manage to find.  Pictures of the inside of the big church in town show several feet of thick mud covering the marble floors and the wooden pews all pushed by the mud to the front of the church as if they were matchsticks.

I think of the 100 steps we had to climb to reach our hotel rooms and doubt they even exist now.  The room I stayed in was a semi basement and I'm sure it must be under water or a sea of mud.  It is a good thing that almost all of the buildings in town are made of stone as nothing else would stand the pressure of so much mud pushing against it.

The Italian people  are no strangers to hardship.  They have remarkable resiliance and a very strong  joie de vive.  Still, it will take much time and perseverance to recover from this devistation....and it won't be cheap either.  At a time when Italy, like other countries in the European Union, is suffering financially, it is not likely that the government will be in a position to provide aid in the clean up or rebuilding.  They will have to rely on the public to contribute what they can.  Lets hope it will be enough to restore all that has been lost.

My thoughts and prayers are with those affected by the devistation, may God give you the strength you need to get through this trying time.

D 

blahhhhh

This morning I woke to the sound of heavy rain.  I slept late and dont even recall hearing the church bells signal the passing of each hour. It is a dreary day here and I dont feel like doing much.  Perhaps I will make some homemade soup and do some laundry and other housework.

Don is arriving on Monday and I am anxious to see him again, it seems so long since we have seen each other.  Although we only had 3 weeks to get aquainted before I left for Italy, we have talked almost everyday on the phone since, not to mention the countless emails back and forth.  I think we have both learned alot about each other while I have been here.  I am looking forward to playing tour guide and sharing my favorite places with him.  I wonder if he will feel as infatuated with Tuscany as I am.

The hotel is quiet today, the regular locals have come and gone this morning, drinking their coffee and chatting a few minutes with the owner before pulling up their hoods and opening their umbrellas to venture back out into the rain.  I wonder how they spend the rest of their days. 

This really is a quiet little town, sleepy almost, now that most of the tourists renting places here have left.  I have become familiar with some of the locals routines and I could set a clock by them.  The local women head down the hill each morning to the little CoOp grocery store to buy their food for the day.  Some of the older ladies, clothed in black, stooped over and wearing only slippers on their swollen feet, make this trek every morning and it is heartbreaking to watch their slow progress, especially when they are climbing back up the hill with their purchases.  I have offered to help, but they are very proud, and insist on doing it themselves.  There is a man who is 100 years old who walks every day, stooped over so low he can only see what is directly in front of his feet, as he shuffles along.  He uses two canes, which prevents him from using an umbrella.  His steps are tiny and he can barely lift his feet at all.  I cannot imagine how is does this in the winter.  I see him out and about several times a day and he always lifts his head to greet me with a smile on his face.  He also refuses any assistance, but I have noticed that some of the locals stop by to check on him throughout the day. 

There is another man that spends a half hour, several times a day, at the lookout point in town.  He never sits on the park benches but instead stands at the railings, surveying the valley below.  It is as if he knows every square inch of it and checks to ensure nothing has changed since his last visit there.  From the look on his face he loves this land, this place, this view.  He has probably spent his entire life here, as many of the elders here have.  I envy them.  They are not concerned with technology, the information age,the economic crisis, nor the pace of life in other parts of the world. Thier world is right here, in their village, with their neighbours and friends and families.  They look forward to every day and seem to truly appreciate the beauty surrounding them.  They are not rushed, thier lives are not hectic.  They seem so genuine, friendly and caring.  I will miss the way of life here when I go back home.

Ciao for now, time to go do housework....blahhhhhh
Diane

The Change of Seasons in Tuscany

Yesterday I drove into Pienza to mail some things and to buy time for my cell phone.  On the way I noticed how the scenery is changing.  Fields have been tilled, grapes have been harvested, and the vines are now taking on many shades of yellow, gold, and even some crimson.  Although there are not many maples here, there are a few trees now sporting the reds, oranges and golds of autumn.

The leaves on the chestnut trees are all a rust colour and many have already been shed.  The nuts litter the ground beneath the trees and stain the streets where they have been crushed by passing cars. 

 In the olive groves nets are spread on the ground so as not to lose any of the precious fruit.  It is interesting that some of the olives have already ripened to black while others on the same tree are still green or green with a purplish tinge to them. 

 In some groves I saw large crates and many ladders in preparation for the day’s picking.  It can take several weeks to harvest the olive crop, depending on the weather, maturity of the olives and the size of the grove.  It is all done by hand here.  

I plan to participate in the picking on some local farms. I also noticed how much darker the cypress trees seem against the colours of the tilled fields and yellow leaves.  They seem to look even more majestic now stretching up to the autumn sky. 

It is windy here again today and the sky is dark with clouds.  Back home you would think they were carrying snow or freezing rain, but here they are just pushed along high above us by the strength of the north wind.  They cast shadows on the ground below making the fields seem as if they are alive and dancing to the music of the wind whistling and the rustle of many leaves.  The grey skies give the impression of coldness but the temperature is quite pleasant.  You might even call it balmy. It is amusing to watch the people in town, bundling themselves up, as if against a cold winter night, when the temperature is actually quite warm.  Is it the wind or the dark sky that signals us to believe in a need to bundle up?  

The sun sets earlier and much faster now, and the temperature drops quickly once the sun is gone.  I like being out in the evening though, the smell of wood smoke in the air and the crunch of leaves under my feet is somehow both invigorating and calming.  It is this type of weather that inspires me to cook hearty meals of stews and soups served with warm homemade bread.  Fall is such a bountiful time.  Fresh fruits and vegetables, especially apples, pumpkins and other squash, and of course root vegetables like beets, turnips and carrots  tempt me to roast, stew, bake and sauté them.  The time of apple crisp and pumpkin pie is upon us and I have no one to cook for.  I will have to make up for that when I get back home.  I love baking and cooking but it’s not the same if it is only for me.  Last year I baked dozens of cookies, all of my favourite varieties, filled numerous cookie tins, tied ribbons around them, and gave them as Christmas gifts to my friends and family.  I also made homemade truffles and packed tins with them too.  I enjoyed that immensely and I find that for me, giving something I have made myself feels more genuine than going shopping.  I make shortbreads, sugar cookies cut in Christmas shapes, gingerbread, molasses cookies, chocolate chip, oatmeal with raisins; thumbprints rolled in chopped walnuts and filled with jam, almond stars with apricot jelly, and chocolate macaroons. I love the smell of something baking in the oven and when I bake I usually have joyful music playing, mulled apple cider to sip and a song in my heart.  I spend days that way in December, preparing for Christmas. I enjoy that so much more than shopping.  I remember my mom making donuts for Christmas, plain ones, and my favourites, rolled in cinnamon and sugar.  She used to buy flour in gold pails which she kept once they were empty, and every Christmas she would fill one with plain donuts and the other with cinnamon ones.  When I helped by shaking the hot donuts in a paper bag filled with the sugar mixture, I would get a reward of some donut holes rolled in sugar and cinnamon. To this day I can’t pass by that type of donut without my mouth watering. It is one of my fondest memories of my childhood.  So many wonderful memories are attached to specific foods for me.  Is it like that for everyone, or is that the reason I have a weight problem???

Time for dinner.....

Ciao

Diane

The more I rush, the longer it takes

Yesterday I went to Sinalunga to buy some time on my cell phone, pick up a few groceries and then visit the Outlet Mall near there.
After I got up , cleaned up, and had my morning tea I set off to the hotel to check my email before leaving town.  Of course, I had forgotten it was Monday, and the hotel was closed...so no internet access for me.  Then I decided to go to Sinalunga so I went back to the house to drop off my laptop, pick up a bottle of water, and the car keys and be off.  It was already close to 10 AM.  I reached to pick up my camera off the dining table and when I straightened up the fringe on my scarf caught on the neck of the bottle of olive oil I bought on the weekend.  In slow motion it tipped and then crashed to the floor.  The glass bottle seemed to almost explode on the tile floor sending shards of green glass and a litre of olive oil all over the room. I'm sure the neighbours heard what I had to say about that!
Now the problem was to figure out how to clean it up.  Oil on a tile floor makes it very slippery.  I grabbed the broom and threw some paper towels onto the floor which I moved around with the broom, trying to gather as much of the oil and glass to one place as I could.  I must have used a roll of paper towels this way before finally soaking up enough of the oil to warrant trying to clean the rest up with a mop and hot water.  Still my feet were slidding all over and I had to steady myself by holding onto furniture.  In order to have hot enough water to disolve the oil I had to heat it on the stove. I tried using a sponge mop but it wasn't working very well and the retractable handle kept coming loose and sliding into itself.  It really was useless, no wonder the Italians don't use them!  Then I remembered the long handled scrub brush the landlord bought for me to use as a mop, and the thick cloths in the cleaning bucket upstairs.  I had to remove my shoes as they were still full of oil and went to retirieve the "mop" and pail. I used the kitchen sink insead of a pail, less bending that way, and filled it with the hot water and lots of dish soap.  I soaked the cloths in the hot water and wrung them out.  I threw one on the floor and used the mop to push it around and it worked beautifuly.  The Italian way was actually the best way...who knew???  I had to repeat this many times before all of the oil residue had been cleaned up.  Then I had to wash off the bottom of my shoes as well as the broom and dust pan. A glance at the clock told me it had taken nearly an hour and a half to clean up the mess....all because I had been in a rush....or maybe just because I am clumsy???
Today I'm off to Pienza.
Ciao
Diane

Time Keeps on Slipping, Slipping, into the Future

Today I came to the realization that over half of my time here in Tuscany has passed by.   I cannot believe how quickly it has gone.  I am looking forward to the second half of my stay perhaps more than I did the first.  A very special person in my life is coming to stay with me for the last 5 weeks of my time here, and I couldn’t be any happier about that. 

Isn’t it interesting how we perceive time; from one perspective it seems that the six and a half weeks I have been here have just flown by, yet from another perspective it seems like I have been away for months.   As a child, waiting for Christmas seemed such a long time, yet as an adult it arrives in the wink of an eye.  Summer holidays from school seemed almost endless, but now years seem to go by in less time than those summers did. What is it that makes us perceive time so differently?  What role does anticipation have in this oddity?  It seems a week can drag on forever if there is a reason to want the weekend to arrive.  Now that I am retired, weekends no longer really matter, I can do what I want, whenever I want to and the days seem to pass so quickly.  I don’t think it is simply a matter of the span of time one has lived influencing our perception of time.  If that were the case  then all perceptions of time would quicken as we age and that just isn’t the case; ask someone who is waiting for medical test results or an person waiting for an organ donor. 

Does our perception of time have anything to do with our ability to live in the present moment rather than in the past or for the future?  If we are focused on waiting for something to happen does that influence our perception of time?  If we are unable to let go of aspects of our past's, how does that impact time perception?  Why is it said that animals have no concept of time?

I obviously have way  too much time on my hands to be spending it contemplating such questions.

Yesterday I finished a small watercolour painting I had started weeks ago and then set aside.  Already though I am not satisfied with it and want to make changes.  I have another larger piece that I started while in the Cinque Terre using chalk pastels that also is unfinished.  I have decided that I do not enjoy working with pastels as they are so messy and difficult to use in small areas.  I have done some work on that piece since coming back to Castelmuzio, but mostly by adding watercolours to the picture.   

Today the commune of Trequanda had festivities in Castelmuzio celebrating the upcoming harvest of olives for the making of oil.  There was free food and local wines to sample as well.  People came from all over the region, filled their plates and sat at long communal tables to eat and talk with friends.  They were also selling local wines, cheeses, meats, honey and olive oil.  I bought a bottle of local red wine, some honey and a bottle of oil from La Pieve,  the family farm of my landlords, the Cenni family.

In town the fountain in the park has been repaired and refilled with water....the fish have not been returned to their home however.  It looks a little strange with a single spout of water shooting about 5 feet high in the centre of a pool of water about 2 feet deep.  It certainly is noisy as well, I won’t be using the park anymore to make phone calls as I won’t be able to hear.

This afternoon I brought my sketchpad, pencils and a chair and sat in the courtyard in front of the hotel sketching it.  I went into the bar for a hot cappuccino which I brought outside to warm me up.  As the sun started to go down the temperature dropped enough that my hands were not functioning properly so I had to stop for today and bring my supplies home.  Fall is definitely upon us.

Tonight I am sitting in the bar at the hotel and it is very crowded because there is a soccer game on TV.  All of the locals are here and there is a special on pizza tonight, and I know from past experience the pizza here is wonderful, even the margarita with only tomato sauce and mozzarella cheese.  The chef has come all the way from Naples for tonight.  So, the party continues!

Ciao!

D.