No, it's not space. It's the home office.
You know the place - You file things there. You pay bills there. You may even read your favorite-friend-in-Italy's blog there. What you hope NOT to do there is find a mountain of chaos, a degree of disorganization that causes you to think you will never dig yourself out of this infernal mess and find a bank statement ever again.
By now our apartment is well and truly on its way to becoming a home. A few rugs, a couple more cabinets and we will be pretty much there. Except for the office.
When we renovated this place, we cleverly carved a loft space out of the under-roof area above our bedroom. It was large. Much larger than our little 10x15 foot "office" in Washington. Ah, now we are set, we said. We have so much space that it will be very simple to organize ourselves and our work this time.
So we took our time, concentrating on the living areas of our home. After all, walls, floors and bathroom cabinets tend to take priority. I think I finally emptied the last box of my remains from the Verizon office last week. It only took me ten months. And why rush? After all, I'm retired.
But along the way, we realized that we were missing things. Like bills. Not only were we missing a lot of them, we didn't understand the ones we did see. So we were very happy when we received electric and water bills for 17 Euros. How cheap life is here in this little burg, we said to ourselves. And we laughed at the high cost of living in the big American city.
But one day other bills arrived. BIG bills. They were for water and electricity. They totalled more than 1,500 Euros together. (FYI, that's about $2,250.) We were perplexed. Why had no one sent us bills before this? And so began our adventure into the land of Italian utility billing.
Apparently we were unaware that we should have been calling the utility companies to tell them how much to bill us every month. THAT'S why the invoices they sent us were for 17 Euros. So now we had to pay approximately ten months - yes, almost a year - of electricity and water, all at once. How very interesting, we thought.
Not only that, but we hadn't even lived in the place until late March, and we were gone for a month over the summer. Hmmm. Seems our contractors, while working on the walls and floors, msot likely with the windows open, had been heating our apartment very nicely. Why be uncomfortably cold in February when someone else can pay the bill?
So Piero hoofed it down to the Assem office and started to figure out how we could arrange to be billed somewhat regularly so as to avoid these unpleasant surprises in the future. Meanwhile, it seemed that the garbage collection bills had been going to his parents all year, and we also needed to pay those. Interesting.
So, I wondered, when one moves to a new place, don't the utility companies normally welcome him or her with a marvelous information packet and regular monthly bills? Apparently not. But now that we have figured out how to set up the process, we should at least be able to plan to pay these nice companies so we will continue to have heat and water in our apartment.
But back to the office. How is it possible that I worked for a company for almost 28 years, and managed to keep my desk tidy and create a logical filing system, yet I look around at the piles of paper and unidentified boxes of stuff in here and think I'll never get through it all? I think the answer is sharing.
Once upon a time, my office was all mine. No overflowing cartons, no step machine, no dangling cables and no Cheetah Girls posters. It was simple and orderly. And now I am running out of time. I'm afraid my innate organizational desires will at some point propel me into the abyss and force me to uncover the horizontal surfaces that I know exist there. Until then, my improving yoga practice will help me deal with it. And IKEA sells great little boxes in a department called 'Casa in Ordine.' Go figure.
Ommmmmmmm
giovedì 5 novembre 2009
lunedì 28 settembre 2009
August and the Art of Vegetating
Yes, I know it's already September. But it's worth, even belatedly, documenting the way summer progresses here in Italy. So in the wake of the re-entry that is fall, I will try to capture the state of summer here that can only be described as comatose...
As we moved into late June, a strange thing started to happen to the American. School was ending, and suddenly all her activities began to be curtailed. Dance classes ceased. Why? she asked, naively. Well, nobody would be here. Hmmm. Next, hours at the gym were drastically reduced. But, why? again, she asked. Because nobody would come. It was too hot. People just want to go for walks now. Hmmm.
By July, the dance studio was closed. Pilates classes were cancelled. The gym was open only every other afternoon. Yoga had stopped. Finally, by August, the pool shut down. This, for the 24/7 fitness-based American, was really the last straw. All the excuses - the heat, the kids, the walks - had been exhausted, and what else was one to do if it was too hot, but swim? At her wits' end, she left the country and flew to the land of the midnight work-out, the US of A.
Now, I admit there are many nice things about the slower pace of a small Italian town. The stress of daily life here is dramatically lower than that of Washington, DC. Food is cheap, time with family is plentiful.
However, the Italian attitude toward exercise is just about as far away from American-acceptable as one could find. Remember that delightful older gentleman on the Shuttle flight that I quoted some months ago? The one who remarked that Italians were really good at vegetating? And remember what I said about that? That it was lovely to have all that leisure time to visit with family and friends? That vegetating was really a positive thing?
Forget it.
Vegetating in summer, with camp for kids that finishes at the latest by 4:00, weather too hot to be out until dinner time and EVERYTHING in town closed from 1:00 until 5:30 pm, is tough.
The mentality seems to be that once school is out, life loses all focus and discipline. No one wants to exercise - it's hot. (Hmmmm.) No one can do anything at all because the kids are around. (Hmmm, again.) Fitness is not really a lifestyle here. The only person I've met who truly believes in it is the woman who owns the gym where I do Pilates. She is amazing. And she says she would be happy to stay open, but it's too depressing because no one will come. So she, too, closes down.
It's like exercise belongs to adults only when it's convenient. And it's prohibited to plan it during the summer. There is really no understanding of exercise as a way of life, an enjoyable, everyday part of existing. I ran into yoga friends (English, Canadian and German) at a party in June, and one suggested we start a center for ex-pats who actually wanted to exercise during the summer, and hire our own teacher. Hmmm, indeed.
So while back in the States, I rejoined my old jazz dance group at the most wonderful of studios, Joy of Motion, in Washington. God, do I miss it. And was delighted to find that my double turn is still intact. At the pool I went off the diving board and managed my standard jack-knife and half-twist. And I found the greatest Vinyasa Yoga studio in Richmond, where I sweated my butt off and loved it. Because this year I turned 50. That's right, the big FIVE-OH. And I read my new bible, Younger Next Year, courtesy of my almost-fifty sister.
The moral of the story is this: Move it or lose it. I don't intend to lose it. I made my husband take a photo of me diving. And it's not bad. (If anyone out there recalls my competitive efforts of 30 years ago, please be kind.) Thanks to yoga and dance, I can stretch much farther than I could in my twenties. (I've lost the back walk-over, though. A new challenge?) And I bounced on the trampolines at the beach this summer with my nine-year old daughter, and taught her how to do a front flip.
So move it or lose it all year long, Italy. There are lots of charming things about European life. This isn't one of them. I know that sooner or later I will figure out how to organize myself around a town that shuts down completely for four hours in the middle of the day. But I hope I am never defeated by a society that discourages exercise.
For now, it's back to autumn and all the programs we've missed for the last three months. Who knows, maybe next year we'll found that ex-pats' summer exercise studio? Always an opportunity.....
As we moved into late June, a strange thing started to happen to the American. School was ending, and suddenly all her activities began to be curtailed. Dance classes ceased. Why? she asked, naively. Well, nobody would be here. Hmmm. Next, hours at the gym were drastically reduced. But, why? again, she asked. Because nobody would come. It was too hot. People just want to go for walks now. Hmmm.
By July, the dance studio was closed. Pilates classes were cancelled. The gym was open only every other afternoon. Yoga had stopped. Finally, by August, the pool shut down. This, for the 24/7 fitness-based American, was really the last straw. All the excuses - the heat, the kids, the walks - had been exhausted, and what else was one to do if it was too hot, but swim? At her wits' end, she left the country and flew to the land of the midnight work-out, the US of A.
Now, I admit there are many nice things about the slower pace of a small Italian town. The stress of daily life here is dramatically lower than that of Washington, DC. Food is cheap, time with family is plentiful.
However, the Italian attitude toward exercise is just about as far away from American-acceptable as one could find. Remember that delightful older gentleman on the Shuttle flight that I quoted some months ago? The one who remarked that Italians were really good at vegetating? And remember what I said about that? That it was lovely to have all that leisure time to visit with family and friends? That vegetating was really a positive thing?
Forget it.
Vegetating in summer, with camp for kids that finishes at the latest by 4:00, weather too hot to be out until dinner time and EVERYTHING in town closed from 1:00 until 5:30 pm, is tough.
The mentality seems to be that once school is out, life loses all focus and discipline. No one wants to exercise - it's hot. (Hmmmm.) No one can do anything at all because the kids are around. (Hmmm, again.) Fitness is not really a lifestyle here. The only person I've met who truly believes in it is the woman who owns the gym where I do Pilates. She is amazing. And she says she would be happy to stay open, but it's too depressing because no one will come. So she, too, closes down.
It's like exercise belongs to adults only when it's convenient. And it's prohibited to plan it during the summer. There is really no understanding of exercise as a way of life, an enjoyable, everyday part of existing. I ran into yoga friends (English, Canadian and German) at a party in June, and one suggested we start a center for ex-pats who actually wanted to exercise during the summer, and hire our own teacher. Hmmm, indeed.
So while back in the States, I rejoined my old jazz dance group at the most wonderful of studios, Joy of Motion, in Washington. God, do I miss it. And was delighted to find that my double turn is still intact. At the pool I went off the diving board and managed my standard jack-knife and half-twist. And I found the greatest Vinyasa Yoga studio in Richmond, where I sweated my butt off and loved it. Because this year I turned 50. That's right, the big FIVE-OH. And I read my new bible, Younger Next Year, courtesy of my almost-fifty sister.
The moral of the story is this: Move it or lose it. I don't intend to lose it. I made my husband take a photo of me diving. And it's not bad. (If anyone out there recalls my competitive efforts of 30 years ago, please be kind.) Thanks to yoga and dance, I can stretch much farther than I could in my twenties. (I've lost the back walk-over, though. A new challenge?) And I bounced on the trampolines at the beach this summer with my nine-year old daughter, and taught her how to do a front flip.
So move it or lose it all year long, Italy. There are lots of charming things about European life. This isn't one of them. I know that sooner or later I will figure out how to organize myself around a town that shuts down completely for four hours in the middle of the day. But I hope I am never defeated by a society that discourages exercise.
For now, it's back to autumn and all the programs we've missed for the last three months. Who knows, maybe next year we'll found that ex-pats' summer exercise studio? Always an opportunity.....
mercoledì 1 luglio 2009
Il Palio, a.k.a. San Severino's Medieval Festival
What is an ancient medieval town without archery tournaments, castle races and dinners of wild boar meat?
For two weeks in June, San Severino celebrates its medieval heritage with events and activities that showcase its long history. For newcomers like me, it is extremely interesting and somewhat bizarre; for people whose families have been here for 500 years, it's just normal. (Kind of like those religious processions with priests, statues and half the town following - I, the ignorant American pagan, am fascinated by the humans' behavior. To residents here, it's just a parade. Ah, well.)
The centerpiece of the Palio (ancient tournament) is a race around the town square. Each neighborhood has a team. Each team of four must carry the equivalent of a litter while racing, but instead of bearing a member of the royal family, the platform holds a large model of a castle tower with the name and colors of the team. Children race once around the square; for adults, the race is two laps, with relay hand-offs at intervals. The entire town gathers around to cheer, and the last competition goes well beyond midnight, with incarnations of the Smeducci family (the last royal rulers) on stage to award the prizes. Fireworks follow, launching from just below our window - amazing.
Throughout the weeks of the festival, there are many events to commemorate the town's history. Within hidden courtyards and on the grounds of the Castello, numerous archery tournaments are held. Competitors shoot at statues of boars and rabbits, or hit moving targets on wheels with traditional bows and arrows. They hold cross-bow events as well, and the archers are seriously trained, many competing on international levels.
There are also mock sword fights, which can get pretty testy. On the final eve, a team of costumed players enacted a chess game with swords and shields - Very exciting. Wandering around during all these events are the equivalent of minstrels, authentically costumed and showing off typical games of the time.
Many restaurants are open late, and serve special traditional fare. One evening we hiked to the Castello where an open courtyard had been set up as a medieval dining hall. It was beautiful as darkness fell, illuminated by flickering torches and huge pots of burning candle wicks. After dinner, costumed performers demonstrated ancient games with burning batons, twirling and throwing them in the center of the stone courtyard at night - A magical sight.
This little town retains a very lively core, unlike many small towns in the U.S. The center (piazza) is an important gathering place and still holds many important functions - snack bars, pasta/pastry/meat stores, farmacies, clothing boutiques. And festivals like these are truly meaningful and continue to bring everyone together. I can only hope that, despite the growing presence of shopping centers nearby, someone has seen the sad phenomenon of Wall Mart in the States and learned from it here.
The beauty of knowing your neighbors and participating in events that involve so many of them cannot be underestimated. Walking through the town and knowing the plumber or the curtain-maker or the dance studio manager is charming. (ok, being able to fly to Paris for a weekend isn't so bad either.) I hope this does not change drastically in my time here - And I hope I continue to appreciate it for a long time.
Ciao for now -
For two weeks in June, San Severino celebrates its medieval heritage with events and activities that showcase its long history. For newcomers like me, it is extremely interesting and somewhat bizarre; for people whose families have been here for 500 years, it's just normal. (Kind of like those religious processions with priests, statues and half the town following - I, the ignorant American pagan, am fascinated by the humans' behavior. To residents here, it's just a parade. Ah, well.)
The centerpiece of the Palio (ancient tournament) is a race around the town square. Each neighborhood has a team. Each team of four must carry the equivalent of a litter while racing, but instead of bearing a member of the royal family, the platform holds a large model of a castle tower with the name and colors of the team. Children race once around the square; for adults, the race is two laps, with relay hand-offs at intervals. The entire town gathers around to cheer, and the last competition goes well beyond midnight, with incarnations of the Smeducci family (the last royal rulers) on stage to award the prizes. Fireworks follow, launching from just below our window - amazing.
Throughout the weeks of the festival, there are many events to commemorate the town's history. Within hidden courtyards and on the grounds of the Castello, numerous archery tournaments are held. Competitors shoot at statues of boars and rabbits, or hit moving targets on wheels with traditional bows and arrows. They hold cross-bow events as well, and the archers are seriously trained, many competing on international levels.
There are also mock sword fights, which can get pretty testy. On the final eve, a team of costumed players enacted a chess game with swords and shields - Very exciting. Wandering around during all these events are the equivalent of minstrels, authentically costumed and showing off typical games of the time.
Many restaurants are open late, and serve special traditional fare. One evening we hiked to the Castello where an open courtyard had been set up as a medieval dining hall. It was beautiful as darkness fell, illuminated by flickering torches and huge pots of burning candle wicks. After dinner, costumed performers demonstrated ancient games with burning batons, twirling and throwing them in the center of the stone courtyard at night - A magical sight.
This little town retains a very lively core, unlike many small towns in the U.S. The center (piazza) is an important gathering place and still holds many important functions - snack bars, pasta/pastry/meat stores, farmacies, clothing boutiques. And festivals like these are truly meaningful and continue to bring everyone together. I can only hope that, despite the growing presence of shopping centers nearby, someone has seen the sad phenomenon of Wall Mart in the States and learned from it here.
The beauty of knowing your neighbors and participating in events that involve so many of them cannot be underestimated. Walking through the town and knowing the plumber or the curtain-maker or the dance studio manager is charming. (ok, being able to fly to Paris for a weekend isn't so bad either.) I hope this does not change drastically in my time here - And I hope I continue to appreciate it for a long time.
Ciao for now -
Visitors!
Finally - friends and family actually came to see us!
In May, my sister Lynn and a friend of ours, Mary Welter, made the trip on a direct flight from Dulles to Rome, arriving just in time for the White Night of San Severino. Jet-lagged as they were, we dragged them through the town, streets clogged with roving Brazilian dancers and numerous bands. (The White Night is an evening throughout Europe when museums and shops are open very late, and free tours are provided to many historical attractions. It was created to draw attention to the wealth of cultural sights and help promote tourism.) By 11:00 pm Italian time, they had been awake for approximately two straight days so were able to sleep through the concert taking place 50 yards away.
The week yielded lovely weather for sight-seeing, and we were busy. Sunday we visited the castle at Caldarola (check it out: castellopallotta.it) - Fabulous, inhabited by the original owners until the 1950's. Then we toured churches in nearby Tolentino, visited Sirolo, a gorgeous town on the coast where we lunched on fabulous seafood, and stopped in at the Pierandrei's beach apartment.
We spent some time in the country and in town - Everyone bought art at Adriano Croscenzi's shop; he's an amazingly talented artist who creates paintings, sculptures, vases and jewelry here in San Severino. We did a little outlet shopping (Tod's, anyone?) and then spent two days in Rome before our guests flew back to the U.S. After walking tours Friday afternoon and Saturday morning, we had seen all the key points: the Forum, Colisseum, everything in between, and miles of the Vatican Museums. My neck has finally recovered from the time spent gazing at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel - Our guide gave us a crash course in the evolution of Michelangelo's technique, and I could have stayed all day studying his amazing work.
They left too soon - After only a week! - But I think they would agree it was a lovely visit. Every little town here offers so many wonderful sights - churches, museums, stunning architecture and beautiful countryside. I am preparing to become San Severino's English-speaking tour guide later this year, so should be better versed in all the points of interest soon.
So come see us! There is plenty of space and it's a great spot to use as a base for day trips. Next topic - the Palio....
In May, my sister Lynn and a friend of ours, Mary Welter, made the trip on a direct flight from Dulles to Rome, arriving just in time for the White Night of San Severino. Jet-lagged as they were, we dragged them through the town, streets clogged with roving Brazilian dancers and numerous bands. (The White Night is an evening throughout Europe when museums and shops are open very late, and free tours are provided to many historical attractions. It was created to draw attention to the wealth of cultural sights and help promote tourism.) By 11:00 pm Italian time, they had been awake for approximately two straight days so were able to sleep through the concert taking place 50 yards away.
The week yielded lovely weather for sight-seeing, and we were busy. Sunday we visited the castle at Caldarola (check it out: castellopallotta.it) - Fabulous, inhabited by the original owners until the 1950's. Then we toured churches in nearby Tolentino, visited Sirolo, a gorgeous town on the coast where we lunched on fabulous seafood, and stopped in at the Pierandrei's beach apartment.
We spent some time in the country and in town - Everyone bought art at Adriano Croscenzi's shop; he's an amazingly talented artist who creates paintings, sculptures, vases and jewelry here in San Severino. We did a little outlet shopping (Tod's, anyone?) and then spent two days in Rome before our guests flew back to the U.S. After walking tours Friday afternoon and Saturday morning, we had seen all the key points: the Forum, Colisseum, everything in between, and miles of the Vatican Museums. My neck has finally recovered from the time spent gazing at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel - Our guide gave us a crash course in the evolution of Michelangelo's technique, and I could have stayed all day studying his amazing work.
They left too soon - After only a week! - But I think they would agree it was a lovely visit. Every little town here offers so many wonderful sights - churches, museums, stunning architecture and beautiful countryside. I am preparing to become San Severino's English-speaking tour guide later this year, so should be better versed in all the points of interest soon.
So come see us! There is plenty of space and it's a great spot to use as a base for day trips. Next topic - the Palio....
giovedì 7 maggio 2009
Ahhhh
Well, Piero said that although my first few entries have been accurate, they might actually scare people away, and he advised me to write about something pleasant. Last weekend fit the bill.
May first is a holiday here, Labor Day, and of course no one works. People leave the cities and enjoy themselves, so we did likewise, heading to the beach. It was a beautiful day, after weeks of chilly rain, and we walked along the sea enjoying the sun and that wonderful smell of salt water. After a big family lunch, we all went to a nearby park and the kids played soccer and tried to fall into the fountain - It was lovely.
The day reminded me a little of Easter here. That, too, was a nice day - cloudy and cool, but without rain - and we all headed to the country place for lunch. It was a gathering of the entire family, three generations, and as we approached the house we could hear from Paola's apartment upstairs the chatting and preparations. Wonderful smells wafted out to us. I turned to Pier at the front door and said, "This is why people have big families."
It's true - although I prefer to have only one child (as do most Italians today), the anticipation and enjoyment of a holiday where everyone gathers together are irresistible. Americans feel it, too, probably to a much greater extent because we are so scattered. That's why Thanksgiving has become almost mythical. It has the ability to center families around warm common memories (and the capacity to create those well-known nightmarish scenarios where the old grievances get resurrected, once ten or twelve adults are crammed into a single tiny house.....But I digress.).
It's that sense of coming together that I felt here at Easter (a big holiday in a Catholic country. But that's another blog.). It means so much to my daughter to have this loving, extended family and sense of belonging and roots in our adopted country. She will grow up very differently than I did, having moved eight times during my youth. She will probably feel certain of where she fits into the country and the world (hers already hundreds of times broader), and a solid foundation that is her family history. It's odd to think she will grow up knowing she is Italian, speaking another language, and experiencing relationships from a completely different perspective. (All this is especially strange since she was actually born in Siberia and came home to us in the U.S. at the age of one. But that is yet another blog.)
But back to that beautiful day...Spending it with family and having absolutely nothing to do but enjoy the weather, play with the kids and chat with the adults is what it's all about here. I met an older Italian gentleman on the Shuttle a couple years ago (remember those days?!) and he said Italians were very good at "vegetating." He didn't mean it as a compliment. I do think that perhaps it has its negative side - Ever try to get anything done on a tight schedule in Italy? You know what I mean. - But on the bright side, what it creates is time to just be.
Years ago our grandparents "visited." That meant they went to see other people and just chatted and spent time together. I would say that is a very positive side of vegetating, one that lets us deepen the bonds of friendship or family. The day after our holiday, we hosted the family at our place for dinner to celebrate Pier's father's 84th birthday. And yes, a plate was broken and sauce was spilled and the kids misbehaved. But it was an important evening and it created another building block in that foundation that is the family here.
That's the bedrock for everyone in a small town - The system that cares for you when you're ill or your car dies or you lose your job. We miss many things from the U.S., including my family and our closest friends that provided that backbone for us there. But it's a really special experience here to know you have the support, 24x7, of a caring family a couple blocks away, and I am happy my daughter will flourish in that environment.
So, again, come see us! It is a small, small town, but there's no lack of things to see and do. Happy May to you all!
May first is a holiday here, Labor Day, and of course no one works. People leave the cities and enjoy themselves, so we did likewise, heading to the beach. It was a beautiful day, after weeks of chilly rain, and we walked along the sea enjoying the sun and that wonderful smell of salt water. After a big family lunch, we all went to a nearby park and the kids played soccer and tried to fall into the fountain - It was lovely.
The day reminded me a little of Easter here. That, too, was a nice day - cloudy and cool, but without rain - and we all headed to the country place for lunch. It was a gathering of the entire family, three generations, and as we approached the house we could hear from Paola's apartment upstairs the chatting and preparations. Wonderful smells wafted out to us. I turned to Pier at the front door and said, "This is why people have big families."
It's true - although I prefer to have only one child (as do most Italians today), the anticipation and enjoyment of a holiday where everyone gathers together are irresistible. Americans feel it, too, probably to a much greater extent because we are so scattered. That's why Thanksgiving has become almost mythical. It has the ability to center families around warm common memories (and the capacity to create those well-known nightmarish scenarios where the old grievances get resurrected, once ten or twelve adults are crammed into a single tiny house.....But I digress.).
It's that sense of coming together that I felt here at Easter (a big holiday in a Catholic country. But that's another blog.). It means so much to my daughter to have this loving, extended family and sense of belonging and roots in our adopted country. She will grow up very differently than I did, having moved eight times during my youth. She will probably feel certain of where she fits into the country and the world (hers already hundreds of times broader), and a solid foundation that is her family history. It's odd to think she will grow up knowing she is Italian, speaking another language, and experiencing relationships from a completely different perspective. (All this is especially strange since she was actually born in Siberia and came home to us in the U.S. at the age of one. But that is yet another blog.)
But back to that beautiful day...Spending it with family and having absolutely nothing to do but enjoy the weather, play with the kids and chat with the adults is what it's all about here. I met an older Italian gentleman on the Shuttle a couple years ago (remember those days?!) and he said Italians were very good at "vegetating." He didn't mean it as a compliment. I do think that perhaps it has its negative side - Ever try to get anything done on a tight schedule in Italy? You know what I mean. - But on the bright side, what it creates is time to just be.
Years ago our grandparents "visited." That meant they went to see other people and just chatted and spent time together. I would say that is a very positive side of vegetating, one that lets us deepen the bonds of friendship or family. The day after our holiday, we hosted the family at our place for dinner to celebrate Pier's father's 84th birthday. And yes, a plate was broken and sauce was spilled and the kids misbehaved. But it was an important evening and it created another building block in that foundation that is the family here.
That's the bedrock for everyone in a small town - The system that cares for you when you're ill or your car dies or you lose your job. We miss many things from the U.S., including my family and our closest friends that provided that backbone for us there. But it's a really special experience here to know you have the support, 24x7, of a caring family a couple blocks away, and I am happy my daughter will flourish in that environment.
So, again, come see us! It is a small, small town, but there's no lack of things to see and do. Happy May to you all!
domenica 19 aprile 2009
Moving On
Well, winter wore on and we decided (after paying over 1,200 Euro to heat the tiny, 2-bedroom country place for three weeks) that it would be best to make the leap and move into our apartment in town, even though it was not completely finished. Better to save some money and live with a little dust, we thought.
So when the kitchen/dining room floors had been redone for the third time, still seeming a bit like gray and white zebra stripes instead of the "smoky" cement look we had requested, we directed our painters (that painters were applying resin floor should have been a clue) to wax it and get out. We moved in.
I must confess that I drastically underestimated the level of chaos to an alarming degree when I thought this would be a good idea. It had been years since we'd lived in a construction zone, and at that time we had neither a child nor much in the way of personal belongings, at least compared to our current state. Regardless, in we went.
March was a blur. Every time we felt we had cleaned up one room, the carpenter/painter/electrician/plumber would reappear, damage whatever the other contractor had done and cover the place with yet another coat of dust. The staircase got installed, ruining our new paint job. Baseboards were applied, destroying the retouched walls. Bathrooms emitted a strange odor and we discovered that ventilation had never been opened in the roof space. Ceiling fans worked one day, then not the next. Our front door resembled the entrance to a crack house, since we had tried to pry off the "modern" veneer the previous owner had applied, and were awaiting construction of the new ones Piero had designed.
We still had dozens of huge moving boxes scattered throughout, and after emptying and unwrapping the contents of several at a time, the rooms would fill with paper and cardboard. The nearby recycling center employee is now on a first-name basis with my husband. Poor Piero assembled miles of closets and shelving from IKEA so we could finally hang up our clothes and unpack our books. (Remember the only retail establishment in the country where you can find zip-lock bags? It's also the only place where closets and shelving won't cost you your first-born child. IKEA is the salvation of Italy.)
Gradually, the chaos cleared. It has been two months since we hauled in our suitcases, and we actually had a party April 3 to celebrate my first half-century. Nothing like a deadline to make you clean up your house. We even hired a cleaning lady - Now that we can see the floor, we need help dusting it.
Soon the kitchen counters will be finished and we'll even have towel bars in the bathrooms - So come visit!
So when the kitchen/dining room floors had been redone for the third time, still seeming a bit like gray and white zebra stripes instead of the "smoky" cement look we had requested, we directed our painters (that painters were applying resin floor should have been a clue) to wax it and get out. We moved in.
I must confess that I drastically underestimated the level of chaos to an alarming degree when I thought this would be a good idea. It had been years since we'd lived in a construction zone, and at that time we had neither a child nor much in the way of personal belongings, at least compared to our current state. Regardless, in we went.
March was a blur. Every time we felt we had cleaned up one room, the carpenter/painter/electrician/plumber would reappear, damage whatever the other contractor had done and cover the place with yet another coat of dust. The staircase got installed, ruining our new paint job. Baseboards were applied, destroying the retouched walls. Bathrooms emitted a strange odor and we discovered that ventilation had never been opened in the roof space. Ceiling fans worked one day, then not the next. Our front door resembled the entrance to a crack house, since we had tried to pry off the "modern" veneer the previous owner had applied, and were awaiting construction of the new ones Piero had designed.
We still had dozens of huge moving boxes scattered throughout, and after emptying and unwrapping the contents of several at a time, the rooms would fill with paper and cardboard. The nearby recycling center employee is now on a first-name basis with my husband. Poor Piero assembled miles of closets and shelving from IKEA so we could finally hang up our clothes and unpack our books. (Remember the only retail establishment in the country where you can find zip-lock bags? It's also the only place where closets and shelving won't cost you your first-born child. IKEA is the salvation of Italy.)
Gradually, the chaos cleared. It has been two months since we hauled in our suitcases, and we actually had a party April 3 to celebrate my first half-century. Nothing like a deadline to make you clean up your house. We even hired a cleaning lady - Now that we can see the floor, we need help dusting it.
Soon the kitchen counters will be finished and we'll even have towel bars in the bathrooms - So come visit!
Oops
For those of you who read my February posting, you will note that I implied all Italian males seem to be oblivious to the needs of housework and chore-sharing, especially as relates to the kitchen.
A BIG apology to my dear husband, who is definitely an exception to this! After reading my description of the ski trip issue, he (rightfully) took offense, so I promised I would publicly clear his name. He truly does tons of work around the house, probably more than I do lately. Sorry, Piero!
It's time to continue - I must get to work and update. Many changes since February and I hope I remember enough of them to chronicle here. Hope all is well, wherever you are!
A BIG apology to my dear husband, who is definitely an exception to this! After reading my description of the ski trip issue, he (rightfully) took offense, so I promised I would publicly clear his name. He truly does tons of work around the house, probably more than I do lately. Sorry, Piero!
It's time to continue - I must get to work and update. Many changes since February and I hope I remember enough of them to chronicle here. Hope all is well, wherever you are!
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