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Live Archives - Page 4 of 12 - 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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December 31, 2020 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

New Traditions

It has been a long time since I have been stoned. So long that I can’t even quite remember the last time, but it was before marriage, before kids. So, when one of my children suggested that we all get high as a family over the holidays, it seemed a fitting thing to do at the end of 2020.

First there was the task of actually acquiring the stuff. I gently remind my readers that we are not in a U.S. state where this activity is easy and legal. We live in the equivalent of Cincinnati circa 1963. And there is a pandemic with restrictive movement orders, in case your forgot.

My child, through friends and contacts, located Sketch (his alias has been changed to protect his real alias) and we arranged a bus stop rendezvous a couple of miles from where we live. The offspring and I took off into the dark, with many warnings from my husband about the likelihood of a routine stop by the police to find out why we were on the road during the “orange” zone limitations. (I have somehow acquired a “reckless” label recently from John, which may have something to do with my Chamonix adventure. But who doesn’t occasionally need to be rescued by a helicopter?)

We devised a cover story that we were merely picking up pizza at a restaurant near where our connection would be waiting. I insisted that we actually did order a pizza so that our alibi would be airtight. This was much to the shock of the restaurant which was clearly having a slow night and had probably made one other pizza to go that evening.

We pulled up in the bus zone and there was Sketch, wearing a black hoodie pulled all the way up. To the relief of my progeny, as there was not one other person awake in a 2-mile radius, no secret handshakes were needed. These had been practiced, along with a carefully (and apparently mandatory) averted gaze.

We got the goods, and the pizza, and headed back to the house. On the way we stopped at a large and well-stocked tobacco vending machine to buy rolling papers and filters. We thought we had it all set.

Then came the hard part. I’m so out of touch between being such a mom and living eight years in Italy, which is behind the times in these matters, that I’ve missed out on a few basic life skills. It turns out that rolling a joint is a lot harder than it looks in the movies, or when some unimpressive yahoo hands you one. They have air gaps, come apart, and the filter is always in the way. I worked on doing dishes while one of my descendents turned to YouTube for answers. There is a vast library of information filmed by experienced 14-year olds in their bedrooms, but none seemed to solve our problem. We were over an hour into this and had not yet successfully inhaled anything.

We then went to Plan B. The apple bong. Very popular on YouTube. This involved using advanced tools to tunnel a set of intersecting channels into a regular old apple. This actually got us somewhere although we did end up almost singeing off some facial hair trying to light the tiny bud balanced atop the apple.

After all this a mild effect was felt and it was time to watch Blades of Glory. I remembered that I really hate smoking anything and rarely need to feel more tired, but it was all very pleasant.

We wish you a merry end to 2020 and a much, much better 2021, hopefully filled with some unexpected adventures.

(And thanks to Anna-Sophie for the glorious sunrise photo from her window, which happens to overlook our house.)

December 5, 2020 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

Today’s turkey

I’ve been having fond memories of how our village came together to help us celebrate our first Thanksgiving in town in 2012 when we were living in the small apartment in the convent. We may be in a different house now, in a pandemic, and not celebrating with family and friends, but some things remain the same. I went to the butcher today to pick up the bird I’d ordered for the two of us—”the smallest turkey at the farm, please”—to find this behemoth waiting for me. (At least the butcher refrained from asking me any personal questions. He recently asked a group of women customers, all 80 and up, “How’s sex, ladies?” They were delighted to be asked. More moments with the butcher here.)

I carried my bird through town, legs sticking out from the large plastic bag the butcher had wedged it into, to the wonder and amusement of most onlookers. It was market day and I went to my favorite cheese stand where they were fascinated by this little-known, foreign tradition—there are very few Americans in town. “How long to cook it? What is this “stuffing” thing you do? Do you really eat squash for dessert? How do you say ringraziamento again in English? Leave it here with us while you get a coffee—it is too heavy for you.”

Now for the brining.

October 18, 2020 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

A chill in the air

When I was heading out for my walk today I spotted this amazing rainbow and John was able to get this photo out our bedroom window. It reminded me of what my mother used to say when I was really little and we spotted a rainbow. “That’s God’s promise that he won’t kill all of us again by using water. It will probably be fire next time and we will all be burned.” Why she thought that this would be a good thing to tell a small child would fill a book, which I do not intend to write, but my mother did have a gift for worrying. It’s a good thing that a pandemic, divinely sent or not, never crossed her mind.

The days are getting shorter, as are our leashes. Life had pretty much returned to normal in Italy over the summer, albeit with the new accessories of masks and hand sanitizer. Outdoor spaces and nice weather were abundant so it was easy to eat out, catch a drink with friends, or have a morning coffee pretty safely. Stores have been open and operating normally for months, although it is required to be masked and sanitize before entering. But it was kinda easy to let worry subside, fill up on socializing, sunshine, and freedom of movement, storing away those experiences like bits of gold for the soul. And when cases were averaging a couple of hundred a day, out of a nation of 60 million, this felt appropriate. I felt so very lucky when friends and family in other parts of the world have remained in virtual lockdown since spring.

Things have changed. As temperatures have started to drop cases are surging again. There is a new worry and seriousness on people’s faces. Even though everyone has been 100% masked in the grocery store throughout the summer there was a lightness and normalcy that’s fading fast. Fewer people are stopping to chat, the contents of carts are getting bigger, and eyes above the masks look concerned.

The slide back to a lockdown is happening quickly. The first sign I had that things were getting serious was when the Italian government announced a couple of weeks ago a warning that Sunday lunches were of grave concern. This may seem like an odd government warning to people outside of Italy but here Sunday lunch, culturally more than Friday night drinks or Saturday evenings out, is the main event of the week. Families gather en masse with everyone in attendance from babies and toddlers to recalcitrant teens to young families through to the very elderly with much conversation and hugging. Although a lot of lunches occur in homes it is almost impossible to book a restaurant Sunday at lunchtime. If you are lucky enough to get a place you often find you are sandwiched between long tables with dozens of people, all related. There’s a loud din as people from one end of the table are trying to catch up with others across six or seven people in the middle. Kids are underfoot everywhere. And it is a wonderful thing to behold. And a petri dish in action. If I happen to be driving on a Sunday around 1:30 the roads are empty. Stores are deserted. It’s like Superbowl Sunday. This tradition is starting slipping a bit — several families of Donella and Sebastian’s friends don’t do the formal Sunday lunch anymore — but Sunday lunch is still ubiquitous enough to merit a nationwide government warning aimed at the very heart of Italian culture.

This primal need to be social extends to schools. Keeping schools open is of the highest priority for the government, partially due to the impact on the economy, but also because it’s felt that socialization is one of the primary benefits of school. There’s a phrase in Italian i bambini devono stare con i bambini, children should be with children, as that’s the only way they will learn the rules of getting along in society. As of right now most schools in Italy have students back in the classroom. There was an interesting article in the New York Times, written by an American pediatrician/parent living in Italy. The article quotes an American, Mary Barbera, living in Florence with a 7-year old daughter attending a local school. She describes the elaborate safety procedures and parental co-responsibility pacts that are in place. “Personally, I think Italians have a better inherent sense of common good and taking care of each other. They understand that in order for people to be well, everyone has to follow the rules.” And from what I’ve seen locally, which is reflected in the article, there is a willingness to trust the system and other parents, and take some risks, in order for the kids to have this important socialization that was missing when academics were online.

But it is fairly inevitable that with cases surging in numbers similar to the spring that we, no matter how much we are social creatures, are headed into a dark period of more isolation as winter sets in. Some things are definitely an improvement from the spring, downloads of the trace and track app Immuni have been impressive. The app monitors via Bluetooth everyone you are around, how close you are, and for how long. If you are positive you self-report to the app which notifies the people who have been in your vicinity and might have been exposed, all anonymously, so that tests can be administered. Testing in Italy is free or low cost and widely available. When a traveler arrives at a major airport or train station there’s a tent where you can get a free, rapid result COVID test. Rome’s Fiumicino Airport was the only airport in the world to be given 5 stars by SkyTrax COVID-19 Airport Rating. Despite all of these impressive things the testing numbers are looking bad — 11,700 new cases today which is similar to the worst of the spring, although thankfully, hospitalizations and mortality are still lagging the earlier wave.

When I went for my walk my Italian neighbors clearly weren’t thinking of this beautiful rainbow as a sign that the next time God was displeased he might wipe us out by fire, or pandemic. They just thought it was beautiful. Four people had come out of their houses and were standing in the middle of our small lane taking pictures with cell phones and smiling in delight.

Although we had one of the toughest and longest lockdowns in the world I read today that 84% of Italians feel prepared to face what comes next and “are ready to face the health emergency and restrictions.” Once again I am impressed by the resilience and grace of this culture.

August 9, 2020 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

Notes to a former self

A good friend of mine recently found this photo of me that she’d taken when we were at university. The photo caused a flood of memories — not so much around the specific moment as I don’t remember where the hell it was taken or what road trip we were on — but about that younger version of myself, and what I have, and haven’t, wised up to since then.

I feel like these months have stripped me bare, having lost so many of the trappings that I use to prop up my ego. Some weeks I feel lost in it all and have a hard time feeling focused or positive about anything. Other moments feel like a ray of light comes out showing me the way forward. But through it all this sense of being raw. This kind of vulnerability reveals the throughlines of self.

So what would I tell the me in the photo? That she can relax and play more. She will find love, marry, and create a family. That a beautiful, creative, and eclectic home in California waits, and then it will be outgrown and reborn in completely unexpected ways in Italy. That the group of friends she met at college who felt like family would not be the first or only experience of such connection and that I’d be lucky enough to have people in my life who see me as I am and still love me. I’d tell her to take more risks. Fall in love more often. Look up more often. And above all, that striving for perfection is no life at all.

Sounds so easy when I look at the photo. But here I am, with the same unnamed fear somewhere behind my heart that she had, and a familiar litany in my head that differs in specifics but not in tone — I haven’t used this time to grow our business, blast Itch into the millions of readers and film and book deals, lose weight and get in the best shape of my life, become fluent in Italian, pick every weed in the garden, and more. And thus I am somehow less than.

And here we come to the wising up part. Mostly I am thankful that this period is tough as the times I change the most are when being the same is too hard. I feel like it is time for the ultimate showdown with the boring voice and its litany of ways I’m not perfect. That it’s more interesting to be in the moment and to celebrate the things that make me who I am and bring me pleasure.

I am spending time with the discomfort, attempting to meditate, reading a lot, and comparing notes with others. I’d love to hear from any of you who are confronting discomfort what is working for you.

Because when the future me looks at a photo of the current me I want her to say “That’s when you learned to trust and relax inside. When you really started to have fun, love yourself and be completely who you are.” And I probably won’t arrive there this week, or next month, as the voice of perfection would like, but I am closer than I was.

August 2, 2020 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

Bored at home yet? Come to the village!

One of my favorite things that happens in our village is the local musical play, called Tovaglia a Quadri, performed every August in a tiny piazza filled with long tables. The plays are written a month or so before they go live and tackle current and controversial topics ranging from how Amazon touches village life to the Genoa bridge collapse. Tovaglia a Quadri is satirical, introspective about the village, and broadly performed, but hard to experience for non-locals as the dialog is in Italian and the local dialect, and tickets are almost impossible to get.

tovaglia a quadri

As with most things this extraordinary year the fate of Tovaglia a Quadri’s summer play was not looking promising — it wasn’t just the restrictions against crowds gathering in close quarters but also a prohibition against serving food at theatrical performances, which put a damper on the three-course meal. But this is the 25th anniversary of the play and the show must go on. The intrepid creators, Andrea Merendelli and Paolo Pennacchini, decided to make a movie instead.

The movie will be subtitled in English and available to stream from August 24 – Sept. 6th — ten nights just like would have happened in our parallel “normal” universe. I can’t give too much away, but the plot is a humdinger. While Andrea and Paolo were writing the play there was a positive case of Covid-19 in our village. The person involved was a healthcare worker who had returned to Anghiari for the weekend from a city where he worked when he received the positive result. The reaction of several of the villagers was surprisingly extreme. Andrea and Paolo wove parts of this event right into the play. Their fictional character has to flee to the village rooftops to live, in fear for his life should he descend. Meanwhile the rest of the village is gathered around a community bread oven rediscovering the joy of making bread despite the shortage of flour and yeast. The title, as always, is a pun: Pan de’ Mia, which refers to the pandemic as well as means “My bread”. It’s a clever glimpse into one way that Italians are processing the horror of the epidemic with grace, creativity, and humor.

I’ve been at some of the shooting and the movie looks like a treat. Not only will be it entertaining but it’ll serve as a nice little escape to our village. There is a 15€ fee to stream the movie which helps to cover expenses. You can buy tickets here. A couple of production shots…

Tomatoes, harvest, vegetable garden, orto

July 27, 2020 In Best Of, Chow, Live, Recipes By Nancy

Orto adventures

This summer we have become more deeply Italian by creating the thing that makes every house complete — an orto — or vegetable garden. Most houses around here feature one prominently in the front yard. We didn’t put in any wimpy things like zucchini that grow all over the place and I don’t quite know what to do with beyond one or two things, but we did plant loads and loads of tomatoes.

Here are two tomato ideas from this week.

Slow roasted tomatoes

This recipe is from one of my favorite chefs, Skye Gyngell, and is unfussy but yields a tasty result. Skye suggests plum tomatoes but we used a mix of what we had in the photo above, halved or quartered them depending on size, and placed them on baking sheets with parchment paper underneath (we had four going). Sprinkle liberally with a mix of equal parts salt, pepper, and sugar. Then place in an oven on the lowest temperature you can get for about four hours until the edges start curling up. You aren’t going all the way to sun dried, just mid-way there. We’ve found that they store well submerged completely under olive oil and in the fridge.

We will use them often from making paninis to salads, but first out the gate was a pasta with eggplant and sundried tomatoes from chef Francis Lam. Here is her recipe for what she calls Pasta With Let-My-Eggplant-Go-Free! Puree. When she calls for tomatoes we added the slow roasted ones above.

Heirloom tomato tart

A friend in my WhatsApp “Cooking in Quarantine” food group made this today and it is on the list for this week. She said it was absolutely delicious. Recipe from the New York Times. Extra bonus points if you make your own pesto, which I think we will try, as we also have basil taking over the orto.

July 27, 2020 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

Drop everything and prisencolinensinainciusol

A friend recently told me about an Italian hit song from 1972, called “Prisencolinensinainciusol”, and I am obsessed. In the 1970s Italy was fascinated by all things American and Italian entertainer Adriano Celentano created a song that sounds phonetically like American English but is complete nonsense. He performs it below with his wife Claudia Mori. It is so effective that when John, Sebastian, and I watched the video we all had the same response — that it sounded so like English that our heads hurt because we were straining so hard to understand lyrics that were just out of reach. That if we just listened a little bit harder it would all become intelligible. It’s that good, and the video version is oh so fabulously 1970s entertaining. I think you should do yourself a favor and watch it. NOW.

The song not only reached #1 in Italy, but also in France, Belgium, and the Netherlands. I’ve cornered several village friends to listen to it now and in my small sample of Italians and a Belgian all remember it fondly. The Italians could sing it from memory. Although “Prisencolinensinainciusol” is complete nonsense clever Italian teens came up with a phrase in Italian that closely matched the sounds: presi in culo un etto di acciughe or “I took a pound of anchovies in my ass”. The eyes of the two Italians I was talking with lit up with amusement and recalled teen naughtiness at the memory.

There is a good article about the song and its history in Atlas Obscura. The song was not a isolated feat but part of a long tradition dating at least to the middle ages. Dante has a passage in The Divine Comedy that means nothing but sounds like Hebrew. And there is “grammelot, a system of languages popularized by Commedia dell’arte, a theatrical form that started in Italy in the 16th century and later spread around Europe. Grammelot was used by itinerant performers to “sound” like they were performing in a local language by a using macaronic and onomatopoeic elements together with mimicry and mime.” (From the Atlas Obscura article.)

Adriano Celentano, who is now 82, is one of the Italian greats. In addition to being a singer-songwriter and performer with over 40 albums he is also an actor and director starring in numerous comedies on the big screen and TV. He started a record label which is still active. Claudia Mori is a prolific musical performer, actor, and producer who often collaborated with her husband. They are still together.

July 12, 2020 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

The Talk of the Village

It has been a busy couple of weeks around town as people emerge from quarantine.

An emergency

I was walking into the village when I heard the sirens of several emergency vehicles. To hear one at all is noteworthy, but hearing six or seven within the space of minutes is shocking. Then I heard a helicopter — I didn’t even know there was one in the area. My American mind started running wild imagining possibilities, mostly involving guns, standoffs, and some nutcase.

I later read in the paper that a man was working on the shoulder of a road when he lost his footing and fell into a big patch of wild blackberries. When he was unable to get out his friends called for help which turned out the firemen, forest service (complete with their helicopter), and ambulances. They got him out, he was treated for scratches at the hospital, and is now doing fine. The regional newspaper wrote a rather prominent article about it featuring a hero image of the helicopter, which I assume they don’t get to feature very often.

Camping complications

A group of five 17-year old guys decided to camp in the woods in the hills near here. Darkness came and they got scared when they started to listen to the noises around camp. They then packed everything up and walked back downhill through the dark to be picked up by their parents.

I’m tall, and that’s only half the story

Moving to Italy has changed my life in so many ways, not the least of which is that my towering 5’4 1/2″ self is frequently one of the taller people in a group. But most excitingly is that I’ve been told repeatedly that I have an exotic name. I was reminded this week when I ordered some bread to be reserved for me to pick up later. I clearly spelled my name over the phone but when I arrived this was waiting for me:

Yep, “Signora Nanzi”. Doesn’t get more exotic than that.

Awkward questions

The cheese guy at the market, where I get huge slabs of delicious 36-month old reggiano parmigiana for 9€ or so, wanted to know why the United States has gone crazy and is failing at controlling the coronavirus. I shared my view on the nature of our collective psyche. Meanwhile Italy’s data looks like this:

Italy coronavirus statistics

Yes, that’s right. Only 188 new cases on July 11th for all of Italy, with its population of 60 million, and this is with plentiful testing. John’s theory is that the same things that made Italy so hard hit in the beginning — lots of close intergenerational family ties and a great deal of time together — is also why it has done such a good job of following basic guidelines to keep the curve flat. There’s a sense that we are all in this together and need to take care of one another. I’ve started to see some relaxation around the edges, a guy in the grocery store with the mask pulled under his nose, two guys having a discussion in a small shop with masks both pulled down to better talk, gatherings of teens walking around on a Saturday night without masks, but in general people are still good mask-wearing, social-distancing, hand-sanitizing compatriots.

We are starting to see more and more tourists from the rest of the EU since the borders relaxed on June 3rd. The bloc decided to admit people from a list of “safe” countries as of July 1st but Italy changed its mind and is not letting any visitors in beyond the EU/Schengen zone. “The global situation remains very complex,” stated Italian Health Minister Roberto Speranza. “We must prevent the sacrifices made by Italians in recent months being in vain.”

Not that tensions don’t flare. The Guardian had an interesting article today about people from previously hard-hit towns in Northern Italy not being welcomed to book holiday rentals elsewhere in Italy, although their hometowns are now virus-free. And public beaches near Rome have been packed which has resulted in a lot of tension between the cautious and people who are not respecting distance.

I won’t be heading to the beach anytime soon.

July 5, 2020 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

How designer shoes and bags are born

Once in awhile a handbag, or pair of shoes, catches my eye and I pick it up to discover a price tag in the thousands of dollars. Little did I guess the origin story of such fabulously overpriced, beautifully made, and highly-coveted accessories. A former Gucci executive explained to me how Italian, French, and American fashion labels share a common supply chain which surprising leads to small garages in the Italian heartland.

Luxury bags and shoes start with great leather. Hides have to be of the highest quality and impeccably dyed. (Another time I will write about the man who is behind creating the “it” colors each season for brands like Chloe.) After a rigorous selection process the hides are dyed and shipped to brands like Gucci for cutting. The hides are very valuable so the process of cutting is a critical control point for profitability. Sloppy cutting results in excess leather which is wasted — unless there is enough of it from a particular pattern to rework into a new design for sale. Cutting is also controlled in-house as there is a temptation for a few “mistakes” that could be sold on the black market by less than scrupulous subcontractors. After it is cut the leather, together with any parts needed to complete the bag or shoes like zippers or metal trim, are put into a bag and shipped out for assembly.

And this is where I think it gets really interesting. All over Italy there is a vast network of highly-trained artisans, many of whom learned the trade through generations of their families, who take the pieces and make the final product by hand. Although many of these workshops are what you expect, larger factory-like buildings with dozens of employees, a significant percentage are actually a couple of people working out of their garages. I love that these items, sold in temple-like shrines of fashion and brandished by celebrities and denizens of the 1% in a constant battle of one-upmanship are actually made by some dude (albeit a master) in a garage in an average Italian town. All earning the coveted “Made In Italy” mark.

I tried to work my contacts to visit one of these micro-workshops but my inquiries were rejected. The identity and location of these prized artisans are closely guarded by both brands and the workers themselves (whose tax reporting may not be fully accurate).

Of course coronavirus has wreaked havoc with many of these workshops, both large and tiny. Many artisans may not be able to carry on as the ecosystem is so tightly dependent on the overall health of the fashion sector, which for Italy is a 165 billion euro part of the economy, expected to be down at least 40% this year. Here are two articles covering the situation from the NYTimes and Fashionista.

July 5, 2020 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

One crazy race

I originally posted this on July 7, 2019. The race did not occur in 2020, of course, because of coronavirus, so I wanted to mark the date. I had no idea how prophetic I was when I wrote below, one year ago, “Next year will be different”. Truer words have never been said…

Every June 29th the village of Anghiari hosts the Palio della Vittoria, or Race of the Victory, to commemorate the Battle of Anghiari. It’s one of the oldest, most famous, and according to the Corriere newspaper, craziest races in Italy. The battle, fought in 1440 between Florence and Milan, is known for three things: Florence’s victory cemented its dominance and set it up to be the powerhouse of the Renaissance, the battle is the subject of Leonardo da Vinci’s lost painting (believed to be his best work), and Machiavelli wrote scathingly about the battle reporting that only one soldier died—and that’s because he fell off his horse. (Local historians deny this. According to them the Tiber valley was basically awash in blood…)

The palio, at first a horse race, was held every year on the anniversary of the battle, starting in 1441. It was was stopped in 1827 because it had become so violent that one of the jockeys was killed. The race was brought back sporadically during the late 1800s through the early 1900s as a foot race and is now an annual event.

The palio is its own sort of battle. Every year teams of runners from towns in Tuscany and Umbria (who had soldiers in the original battle) are invited to participate. The starting line is at the battlefield site in the valley and the race covers 1440 meters, a good part of it straight uphill—on a road with an incline of 18%—to the main piazza. It lasts just over five minutes. The race is famous for lots of bodily contact. Runners wear tear-away jerseys that most shed the moment the starting gun goes off so they are harder to grab. The street signs are padded right before the race.

If this isn’t daunting enough on a hot summer day there’s the added element of strategy, sabotage, and subterfuge. I decided to call one of the runners, Celestino, who happens to be our physical therapist and was born in the farmhouse next to us, and ask him all about it.

Each town has four runners and they work together to “protect” the fastest from being shoved off the course (something you can see happening to the runner circled in the video above). Sometimes towns who know they can’t win will work together with other towns to help them with the understanding that the favor will be returned in a future race. (These alliances are a secret at the time of the race.) This year Anghiari and Venice worked together to help block runners from Pieve Santo Stefano, an even tinier village than Anghiari further up the Tiber river valley. Anghiari has won the race four times, and Pieve Santo Stefano three, so it was important that Pieve not be allowed to win again to tie the record, hence the alliance. One runner was employed as a sprinter who ran all out for 300 meters to get ahead and stop another runner from another town. He then walked the rest of the way uphill.

There were a record number of runners this year, 84 athletes from 22 different towns. Milan was new to participating in the race. Ironically, considering the combatants of the original battle, one of their runners, Salvatore Gambino, a professional long distance runner, won.

Celestino said that the Milanese runner was unhindered since the Milanese team members were unknown. Next year will be different.

The race is followed by a seated, candlelit dinner for 1,000 on the walls of Anghiari. Runners eat for free.