Live Archives - Page 13 of 13

Live Archives - Page 13 of 13 - Itch.world

A three-minute escape to Italy.

Tuscany, travel, medieval village, Italy, festivals, celebrations, customs, cooking, recipes, living in Italy, moving to Italy, visiting, visit, restaurants, language

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August 24, 2018 In About, Live By Nancy

Mostly out of control, nearly all the time

I’ve always been a bit of a control freak, thinking that if I can get the most in-depth information, take my vitamin D3, get the “best” teachers for my kids, walk 10,000 steps a day, and have just the right black cashmere sweater, that I may be able to slightly control life’s path. So stupid really, but inescapable for me.

Moving to a small village that seems to operate in its own dimension and century, navigating another culture, getting along in a language I barely speak, all these things have not only blown away any illusions I had of control, but have made me realize that I can function quite well in life having basically no idea what is going on around me most of the time. And that, in some ways, is a tremendous relief. Because I have to trust those around me to an astounding degree. Maybe it’s part of what has drawn me to stay.

The way we ended up choosing our village set the tone for this shift. When we decided to have a one-year family adventure, we didn’t do a grand tour of villages to check out the schools, talk to locals about expat life, and look at possible housing choices. Quite to the contrary, initially we were set on a major European city with a well-connected airport and lots going on culturally. Partially to reassure ourselves (and we thought better justify to our clients) that our year abroad would be “worth it”.

But the kids kept asking for more of an adventure (as did our hearts), so we decided to find a choice that was as different from our lives in Berkeley as possible. And it turned out true adventure for us was a small village, in Italy, a country that we had never been particularly romanced by, but had citizenship in through John’s grandparents.

We scoured the internet for year-long vacation rentals and found it—a beautifully restored apartment in a mostly unrestored convent from the 1600s in a small Tuscan village. And we decided, sight unseen, about the village, and place to live. And moved. And let everything fall into place. Which it did beyond what any amount of careful planning could have yielded.

It was one of the first times I found myself surfing the wave rather than thinking about how to surf the wave. And one of the oddest things of our new life was that, leading up the one-year mark, when we had to find another place to live, we never had a family discussion about whether to stay or go—all of us were coming into ourselves in such profound ways that it never even came up to go back to our old life.

And it keeps unfolding—this not being well-informed or on top of anything, but feeling like that’s the right thing. And that is at the heart of Itch, the spirit of adventure, leaps of faith, amazement, struggle, failure, and joy.

August 22, 2018 In Live By Gianna Delle Valle

The morning coffee

In this section I’m pleased to introduce Gianna Della Valle: an Italian who has lived abroad for more than 20 years. She has made a study of how to bring elements of the Italian way of life into her adopted, frenetic homeland.

The morning coffee is a ritual that celebrates the bravery, self-discipline, and sacrifice you are making to get out of bed and face the world—all of your own free will. You could have stayed in, slept a bit longer, or entertained other thoughts with your partner. But no. You got up, washed, dressed, and went out. It is a very delicate moment—you need to be celebrated and supported in the day’s first bow to your duties.

That’s why coffee shops were invented in Italy. The “barman” is performing the highest-level duty to society. Like a midwife, he facilitates your daily entry into the world. He understands that your private space should not be disturbed with silly things like asking what you want, and, abomination, asking for your name. The barman knows you intimately and can detect your innermost state. He will scrutinize your face and decide whether to ask you “il solito?” (the usual?) if he feels you are approachable, or simply get on with it and serve your favorite combination coffee and pastry if you’re seeming too delicate for questions that morning. The world has an order that needs to be respected. For that moment, you are at the center of that world and that order.

The barman then will engage you tactfully in a conversation that is meant to be uplifting and get you out of the natural grumpiness your situation warrants (you just got out of bed, remember).

Then the smell hits. And the burst of caffeine. Your energy level spikes. You are ready for your day. Mission accomplished.

Sorry mass coffee chains, you simply do not get it. I don’t want you asking my name. I don’t want paper cups. I don’t want to have to stand in line.

But that’s ok. I am not at the center of the world. I am just a cog in the system. It rains and I got here after a long commute. Another shit day.

August 4, 2018 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

Rooster ring tone

There’s the most fantastic rooster who wakes me up every morning. So ready for the stew pot, partial cock-of-alzheimer’s, partial been-out-too-late drinking. Indescribable call. So I decided not to try, but to go one better.

One Sunday morning around 5am I decided to track him down. Armed with a mic and recorder I drove down to two different chicken coops in nearby fields and stealthy, like the fog, sneaked around until I heard my mystery rooster.

He is now properly recorded, and turned into a ring tone because I wanted it, which means that at least one of you probably does too. And no roosters were harmed in the making of this post.

August 2, 2018 In Live By Nancy

Big cheese

Growing up in the United States, I somehow missed out on learning that there is an Italian sport that involves rolling cheeses. My first clue that my sporting education might not be complete is a photo on the wall of one my favorite workers’ lunch restaurants. In it, the chef is holding a large wheel of cheese. He’s poised to throw it, much as if he were about to roll a bowling ball.

My next brush with cheese rolling happened as I was driving down a Tuscan backroad on the way to the grocery store. I noticed a group of men—including the chef— standing together, looking very serious, all well-armed with large cheeses. I’d like to say that I instantly pulled over to find out more, but wasn’t brave enough—they were having such a good time among friends that it like intruding, and I’m not yet confident enough about my Italian.

The third time I spotted a cheese in play, it was a solitary man, practicing his cheese roll, and I wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass. I was with my fluent daughter, and she owed me one because I had just picked her up at the horse stable, so “we” found out when the next competition was happening and asked if we could come and film.

As is appropriate with cheese rolling, my search came full-circle when I interviewed the chef—whose picture hangs in the restaurant—about the basics of the sport. I was surprised that he has only been participating in this sport for three years—so for those of you who think “It is too late for me to learn to roll a cheese” there is hope yet.

Each team of two has a large, flat, hard cheese between them (could be pecorino, asiago, or parmigiano; but all the teams have to use the same kind.) They attach a leather strap around the cheese, which creates a sort of handle, that enables them to launch the cheese, rolling it down the road. The team who cheese goes the farthest with a predetermined number of throws wins.

Cheese rolling is an all-day sport. The day we came out to watch, they had been out rolling cheeses since 8 in the morning and would be doing so until about 7:30 in the evening, covering around 9 kilometers on foot.

Cheese rolling dates from Etruscan times (the local tribes living here pre-Roman times, whom Tuscany was named after). It’s even included in the Federation of Italian Traditional Games and Sports (figest.it), an organization that holds competitions and publishes the rules for about 15 ancient games like, tug of war, cross bow shooting, darts, and very obscure games like morra, which dates to the ancient Egyptians. (For a lovely little blast of morra: https://www.facebook.com/MorraMarche/videos/978697128831911/)

In cheese rolling there are five different weight classes—cheeses ranging from 1.5 kilograms (a little over three pounds) to 25 kilograms (55 pounds). Hurling a 55 pound cheese down the road takes serious training and muscle!

My favorite part is that the rules specify what to do if your cheese breaks during competition. First feed the spectators cheese, then you can replace the cheese and carry on.

Our chef friend says they always serve the cheese after it has had its moment of competition and that it is particularly delicious. The rules dictate that, after the competition, the winner provides everyone else with glasses of wine. But victory is sweet after all, because the victor gets to keep the cheese of the defeated.

July 9, 2018 In Live By Nancy

The race to be—exactly—on time

I don’t know a lot about races, but I do know that in most, being fastest is key. So I was surprised—and delighted—to discover that the path to victory in our local vintage Vespa race is being very, very punctual. The winning strategy requires finishing the race to the correct hundredth of a second of a specified time. How do you do it? By adhering to the speed limit the whole way.

(As you could well imagine the Italians adore going the speed limit and do so on every opportunity. On a nearby, well-used road the speed limit just dropped from 70 to 50 kph prompting a local firestorm of opinion. A TV station described local drivers as being beset by “panic and rage” at the reduced limit—really? “Panic”?)

For this vintage Vespa race the art of winning is in the precision and preparation. Routes can be tricky, and are often on windy, steep, and even unpaved roads. To add to the challenge, all the Vespas are old—only certain storied racing models from the 1950s and 60s—and likely to break down. Inspired by their rides, some participants pride themselves on using only time-keeping and navigation technology from the period of their Vespa.

This all leads to some very interesting finish-line maneuvers to burn through those all-important seconds if one is slightly too early.

Watching it for the first time, I thought that surely, this was a race like no other. But digging a bit deeper into the world of vintage “racing” I realized that this style of rally is actually pretty common. But the story of this particular rally stands out as one of determination and resurrection.

Our local Vespa repair shop, which sits just down the road from the finish line, has been in business since the 1950s. It’s run by the son of the original owner, who has been racing—and fixing—Vespas since he was three (check out the pic below).

He remembers seeing the race go by when he was a kid in the 1970s but then it stopped. Two years ago he decided to revive the race and got over 50 riders to participate from all over Italy. I can’t wait for next year’s race to see how much it grows.

The lure of the Vespa is a deep one for Italians, and for reasons I wouldn’t have expected. More on that later.