FuoriBorgo

Requiem

These days, we're all humming it as we go about our activities, and, occasionally, I'll hear a teenager's tenor voice sing out a single word, "Mors!", his right hand raised in a theatrical gesture (didn't I always tell them that Latin would come in handy?).  It's the music from the Requiem by Verdi, which my sister's choir performed just before Easter.

(photos taken during rehersal)

As I was sitting with my family and my niece in the church of San Francesco in Prato, crowded with a surprising number of people who'd come for the concert, observing my boys and all those present deeply absorbed by the music, at that moment in time it seemed to me that of all manmade things, this one that can't be touched nor seen, that can be experienced only by one of the five senses really, music, is the most involving on all levels.

Messa da Requiem by Giuseppe Verdi, conducted by Johanna Knauf (whom, incidentally, is one of the few women orchestra conductors in the world).  

414 Medieval steps up

When we finally arrived at the top of Giotto's Campanile, we thought we'd reached the most exciting part of the whole experience.  But not so!

Oh, don't get me wrong, after climbing four hundred and fourteen narrow, dark, steep steps, all the while squeezing past the people who were trying to make their way down, the view we earned from the slender terrace at the top of the tower was magnificent (and scary too for those like me who suffer from vertigo!).

But the real thrill came later, when we'd descended the first flight of stairs to the first landing beneath the summit, and the bells of the tower suddenly began ringing to announce an Easter function over at the Cathedral.  To say it was loud doesn't do justice to the sound of the seven huge bells tolling just above our heads (the biggest of which, il Campanone, is three centuries old, and is 2 meters in diameter, 2.10 meters tall, and weighs 5385 kilograms).  It was so loud that the entire tower shook and vibrated, a somewhat disconcerting experience when you're still far above ground and dizzy from vertigo (me again!).  In a brief moment of lucidity, I remembered that my camera has a nifty video function, and I manged to take a tiny recording of the event (shaking due to the sound waves, of course).

Imagine this symphony of bells played for a good long time, directly above your head and at considerably greater decibels, just minutes after you've climbed up 414 steps to the summit of a 84.75 meter high bell tower. I think good old Giotto and his work crew probably had a laugh at my faintness of heart.

dancing mice

quando il gatto non c'e'
i topi ballano
*
when the cat's away
the mice dance 
(an Italian proverb) 

In a way that was quite unplanned, when our boy was invited by the national tennis federation to a training camp for selected players these last few days, all the rest of us also ended up taking some special time away from our routine.

Rebecca and I went on a little trip to Milan, where we got together with cousins, aunts and uncles, and where she, as the only visiting grandchild, was pampered and doted on by the nonni.  I got to go to a beautiful and inspiring art exhibition on Amedeo Modigliani and the painters in his Parisian circle, who, at the beginning of the 20th century, created art while often living in utter poverty and alcoholism.  I discovered some new names, and was mesmerized by the haunting French landscapes and Parisian scenes by Maurice Utrillo, as well as by the colorful portraits by Moise Kisling.  Oh, to have access to culture, and to be able to go to an art exhibition at last!  I also lost myself among shelves of fibers in the largest yarn store I've ever been to in this country.  But generally, I just walked miles and miles around a city I love.

Tom and our big boy had several special father-son days, complete with a dinner out, and some late nights spent discussing life while watching a tennis tournament streaming live on the computer, and ... even skipping school one day!  But spending special time one on one with your father is an excellent excuse for missing school, in our opinion.

We're now back together, and back to our normal life at home, but each of us is still a little giddy with all the recent extracurriculars (and we're a little tired too - but happy tired, just like after dancing).

Flickr-ing city mouse

I love going to Milan, the city where I come from and where most of my family lives, during the Christmas holidays.  The city is all dressed up, tastefully glittery, and festive - a joy to walk around - and the streets are quiet and almost empty of city-folk, many of whom are vacationing on the very beaches and hills in Liguria where I live - which I've just left for the holidays.

I've put a few more photos from our days in Milan on Instagram.  Speaking of which, since I already have a photo sharing account in Flickr, in an effort to simplify my "technological footprint",  I've been considering posting my cell phone snapshots there as well, and letting my Instagram account go dormant.  However, the new Flickr app (used for the above photos) isn't as good as Instagram: the filters are far too saturated to my taste, and there isn't an option to tone them down.  There is also a question of privacy: while Flickr doesn't seem able to prevent third parties (like Google Images) from combing through one's account and using their photos, as far as I can see, Instagram can (though Instagram perplexed and irritated many of its users by instituting questionable new terms of service, and then retracting them).  So for now, until Flickr improves its app, I'll be keeping two photo sharing accounts: Instagram for quick cell-phone snapshots, and Flickr for photos that I post on the blog.

when in Rome, with teens

You know how teenagers are a different species from the rest of humanity.  Well, our teen boys are no exception, and recently Tom and I have detected some underlying dissenting opinions to our unshakable belief that traveling is uniquely exciting.  On more than one occasion when traveling, in fact, we've noticed that distinctive teenage slight-rolling-of-the-eye attitude, or heard that undertone of outrage in the question: "NOT another church!?"  And when in Rome, of course, there are one or two churches to be seen.

Tom and I were adamant that this trip be enjoyable for everyone, above and beyond cultural enrichment, and had agreed that if teenager-church-block set in, we'd take the boys to see another type of site, one that has less to do with culture and more with tennis: the Foro Italico.  Because, when in Rome, there's something for all species of humanity, teenagers included.  Except that, as is often the case with children, they surprised us.

The boys loved Rome.  They didn't just love Rome, they loved touring it.  We'd rented a small apartment in the heart of the city (through Homelidays, which is an excellent website for holiday rentals in Europe), within walking distance of all the main sites.  From there, we set out each day into the richness of Roman art, architecture, and history -- and the boys' years of studying the Romans in school finally took shape and came to life before their eyes.  They were so excited by discovering that all those historical figures, those forums, columns, palaces and temples had a context in reality, that weren't satisfied with our slow, sick-six-year-old-pace of tourism.  Every night, when little sis went to sleep, they headed out with their father, to march all over the city to see new things.  Tom was only too glad to share his own enthusiasm, love and knowledge of Rome with his sons.

 

One of their biggest regrets about this trip?  That they'd missed the inside of St Peter's Basilica (the Church among churches!), which was already closed the evening we walked around Vatican City.  But no worries, they said: we'll see it when we come back to Rome.

La Dolce Vita

This trip had so many hitches, that several times Tom and I looked at each other with a "why did we bother?!" look.  But we didn't voice our frustrations (at least, not too loudly), and despite all the odds, we made it happen.  Sure, it took some effort, and our plans had to endlessly be adjusted to work around one unexpected problem after another - the snowfall that blocked our roads on the night before departure, the rain that made tourism a soggy, chilly affair, the forgotten GPS device, a sick child that had to be tended.  But all 5 of us worked together, each giving up something in order to make our trip as enjoyable for everyone as possible: walking slower and taking more rest breaks, skipping some of the fun, and doing a few more merry-go-round rides in Piazza Navona to buck up and recharge a brave little traveler, while her brothers ate yet another nutella doughnut and shot targets with airguns (and won a toy gun, oh, joy!).  

Yes, it meant a lot of compromises for all of us, but this is what makes family life sweeter: working together, while learning something about each other and about life, as well as a lot about the Eternal City, which is now a very special place in all of our hearts.

"The Emperor of the Fall"

"The Emperor of the Fall", read the title on the antiqued menu.

The room was vast and empty, and the huge picture windows looked out on an autumnal landscape shrouded in dense Piedmont fog.  But that didn't spoil the event, because all the action was inside - and though highly sensory, it wasn't a visual experience at all.

It was the rich, intoxicating smell of "the Emperor" that reigned all around us:  the musty, earthy fragrance of a dozen little, lumpy, potato-looking things: white truffles. 

The trifolau, or truffle hunter, had brought them to the restaurant for the owner to take his pick, and was now walking around the tables chatting to people, while his white truffles made the rounds in a small basket.  He spoke to us about his land, the rich Langhe hills of Piedmont, where the soil produces the famous Nebbiolo wine grapes above ground, and the prized white truffles below.  He told us how a neighbor had introduced him to the secrets of truffle hunting when he was a boy.

Grown in darkness under the earth, and sought out during the night by a solitary man and his highly-trained dog, the white truffle becomes the essence of conviviality at the table: always consumed in a group, each diner grates thin slivers of the truffle over his or her food – linguine in butter, fried eggs with fondue,carpaccio.  The aroma of the truffle floats up over the table in an invisible cloud. 

And then the truffle is passed to the next lucky person, and the ritual begins again.

travel in the rain

There was rain and there was fog and there was cold.  But there were also new friends, a memorable dinner, a city fix for me, and a family celebration.  In the end, the weather didn't matter at all.

wool, silk or both?

 

Yesterday as I was making arrangements for a teeny-tiny trip over the weekend, I was laughing at myself, and at our pack-light traveling motto, "what you don't have, you won't need."  Because packing for a trip in winter isn't the same as in summer: the risks are much higher.  If, for example, a Southern European woman with zero tolerance for cold weather should forget one of her many and vitally necessary warm layers, including the silk scarf for not too cold conditions and the woolly one for extremely cold ones, then she would be utterly miserable the whole trip.

But I think I've got all layers packed.  We've got the snow tires on (oh, winter!).  So off we go!  

Have a nice weekend!

Corner View ~ growing

Corner to Corner update: slowly but surely, our little project is progressing, and the tenugui is traveling across the world to all of our corners.  You can follow its course on the map that Gis kindly helped me update, here!

Corner View is a weekly appointment - each Wednesday - created by Jane, where bloggers from all corners of the world share their view on a pre-arranged theme. If you'd like to join in, please leave a link to your Corner View post in the comments below, and be sure to visit other participants too.

Many thanks to Kasia for the theme today!

I could see growing fond of slow travel by ferry boat: the sweeping view of the whole coastline from out there on the sea was memorable.

The theme for Corner View next week is "impression", and comes from Ö. 

Happy Corner Viewing!