Outlet shopping with a detour...

Outlet Shopping with a detour... This morning, I rose as I always do, around 5:30, took my vitamins, leisurely embracing the day. I went out for a longer than usual walk, because my knee was feeling better, the day was gorgeous and I was enjoying every second of being outside in the not quite yet hot summer sun. When I got home, I pondered how I could make this day even better. Why, a trip to Pucci would make for a perfect afternoon. I ate my breakfast, got dressed, and headed to Leccio, where the most marvelous outlets live: Burberry, Pucci, Tods, Gucci, Loro Piana. And that isn't even half of what all is there. But, I was on a mission: Pucci. I made it there in exactly one hour. Good time for the lunch hour. I pulled in to the parking lot and found a great spot at the very end of the line and started... Crash! I must have misjudged how much room I had because the next thing I knew, I was backing down from having mounted the curb. Well, no matter. These things happen all the time. I parked and got out, walking around just to look... I was certain I'd find nothing. Boy, was I wrong! The front right tire was completely flat. You could hear and audible shhhhhhh as the last whisp of air escaped the michelin rubber.  Great. Now what? I debated. Do I shop first then deal with this? Maybe I just change the tire to the spare myself and then deal with it later. Perhaps there is a nice man who will help me... Let me just interject here: chivalry is dead, at least at the Mall in Leccio. I asked a passer by and he ignored me. I walked up to customer service and asked a security guard... His excuse was his bad back. Right... So, my next series of thoughts was that I just needed to call the rental agency and let them handled it. So, I did. After two aborted calls which ended up as disconnects, I finally got through to a nice woman who said a tow truck would be there in 40 minutes. I could either get a new car or go with the tow while they fix the tire. At first, I got a little excited at the prospect of ditching what has got to be the unluckiest rental of all time! Then she clucked her tongue in the way only an Italian woman about to deliver bad news can: "Madame, you require an automatic? I'm sorry, but there is no automatic with which to substitute. You will have to wait with the car in Firenze." At least I had 40 minutes before the tow truck would be there. That gave me PLENTY of time to hit Pucci. I found a great top, two belts and the dress of my dreams ! I pulled out my Merrill Lynch to pay and the card was rejected. "you have got to be kidding me..." On top of everything else, I had to call Merrill in New Jersey, which, by the way, is totally frustrating because amongst all the menus there is not one which gives you the option to talk to someone!  After a 20 minute call during which it was discovered that no one alerted the account of my travel (although everyone knows I do this every year...) all was resolved. Now, all I had to do was wait for the tow. And on cue, precisely 40 minutes from the end of my call to Europcar, the tow truck arrived. A very quite man called Francesco got the car on the back of the flat bed and off we went to Florence to get a new tire. He spoke not a single word the whole way. I tried to make small talk, as I'm wont to do... He didn't bite. So, it was a very, very quiet drive to a section of Firenze Sud I had never ever seen before. Apparently, neither had the tow truck driver since he had no idea where he was going. We eventually found the tire place and after a series of calls, it was decided that the only thing to do was to trundle me off into a cab to the airport to deal with Europcar face to face. So, I collected my gear from the car and waited for my cab.   The next thing I knew, I was on my way. At the airport, I was assigned ANOTHER Mercedes A Class, but in true Italian fashion, it was not ready. They were cleaning it up. Where? I was unsure. Who? That, too, was a mystery. All I did know was that 5 guys were standing around, smoking cigarettes and talking on cell phones while one guy was rubbing down the same car for about 25 minutes. Now, I'm no professional, but Catherine and I can wash the Porsche inside and out in about 15 minutes. The A Class isn't that much bigger. So, I'm not sure what the hold up was. But, one full hour later, the same exact car as I had just left at the tire repair shop came lurching around the corner. The license plate number is even almost identical... I hopped in and raced, and I mean raced home. I think, tomorrow, I will just go to the pool, where I can do the least amount of damage. Oh: the other thing... sitting in the hot sun for an hour gave me a chance to scrutinize my car rental contract. It seems that I am prohibited from taking the car to Eastern Europe, so Croatia is out. I will spend the next 2 hours cancelling everything I booked yesterday. When it rains, it pours!

In Search of Pinnochio

In Search of Pinocchio... Anyone who has been in my house knows I have a quirky design flair. Either you like the monkeys on the chandelier or you don't. Either you love the Pinocchio paintings or you hate them. I happen to love both with all my heart. Many years ago, I happened upon the work of Eugenio Taccini, an artist working in Montelupo Fiorentino. He had a shop brimming with a variety of ceramic wares, from traditional pharmacy jars to ultra modern representations of Tuscan landscapes painted on tiles. I acquired a jar and a plate for my mom, a mirror as a wedding gift for my brother and sister-in-law, and two Pinocchio paintings done on tiles and mounted on rough wood. Whenever anyone came to visit me in Castel del Bosco, I always put Taccini's workshop on the regular tour route. His work is so exceptional and he is so open as an artist. When I took the Shaw-Bowdring family to visit Taccini about 6 years ago, Eugenio not only personalized one of the paintings, but he took a picture with Kathy. It is that sort of contact with the artist that makes the work that more meaningful. When I moved to Siena, I didn't have occasion to come this way much, other than to visit Vivetta. The guests I had coming were very short term guests and there just wasn't time to visit Montelupo. However, three years ago, when I was in Italy for Christmas, quite by accident, I happened upon Taccini's work again. He had opened a small sales space in the Coop shopping center in Empoli. I bought one piece (Pinocchio and Mangiafuoco) and saw another: Pinocchio and the Carabinieri. It was rather large, much larger than my suitcase and I knew it would never in a million years fit in the overhead compartment on my British Airways flight home. I stood and weighed my options... how could I get this piece home? I could get to DHL and ship it... but not during Christmas week. Everything closes intermittently and without prior notice. Could I really buy this painting without any real assurance that it would get home? I decided to leave without it. But, it bothered me. It gnawed at me for literally years. When I redid the curtains in the living room and rearranged, I took the brass rubbing down from over the couch. I knew that the Pinocchio needed to be there... but every year I went to Italy, I never made it to Montelupo. Other things came up along the way and it just never materalized. Until yesterday. I decided yesterday would be the day I ventured to Taccini. I looked on the internet to see if his website had an updated address. I knew that they would be leaving the shopping center; his wife had mentioned they were about to move back to their original spot as the rent was simply too high in Empoli. I found the address and google mapped it. (Google directions had done me right going to Villa Romana, why not try again?) I was a little less successful with my directions this time. I drove through the center of town, I drove around the western part of town, I drove through the northern part of town... it was on the fourth (and what I had decided would be my last) attempt that I happened upon the spot. In fact, what had happened was that the way I was used to going had been turned into a pedestrian, one way system, so google was sending me on an alternate approach. As soon as I saw the Arno and the parking along the river, I knew I was in the vicinity. I headed down the road into the little borgo and immediately saw the maestro at work in the street in front of his studio. I asked him where the shop was. He grabbed the keys and led me down the block and unlocked the door. He said, "have a look around" and started to leave, to return to his work. I interrupted his departure with, "Excuse me, but I am actually looking for something rather specific. I was in your shop three years ago and saw a painting of Pinocchio and the Carabinieri. I don't suppose you still have it?" He chuckled and said, "Ahhh... I had two of them. One broke. One is in Collodi." I clearly looked disappointed. I explained how this image has been haunting me for years and how I was fascinated by his Pinocchio images and how I had three already at home, and I even had a picture of one as a background on my iPhone... (I tend to babble in Italian once I get started. I feel sorry for whatever Italian finds himself in the direct line of fire of my verbal barrages...) I then went on to explain how I was here all summer staying in Castel del Bosco... at this point, the maestro interrupted me. "Wait... you are here for a while?" "Yes! I am here until August. I am going to France for a few days at the beginning of August, but I am leaving from Pisa on the 8th of August, or the 7th of August..." He interrupted again. "I can recreate the painting for you if you are here for several weeks. I am in the middle of preparing for an exposition in Florence on the 15th. I will be in and out of the studio after that. But I can definitely have what you want before you return to the United States. (At some point, I mentioned that I was a Latin teacher from Washington D.C. and that I used to live in Siena... as if he was interested in my life story...) He proceeded to fish through a paper bag of pictures, looking for the image of Pinocchio and the Carabinieri, so that we could agree on what he would paint, that it would be the same one I had in mind. He fished through that bag for a good long time without being able to find the image. Finally, he said, "I will just sketch out what I had in mind and you tell me if it was you saw..." and with that, he began sketching, "How big was it?" I pointed out a painting next to us which as about the same size. "So, 8 tiles... ok..." And the next thing I knew, he had perfectly recreated the image of Pinocchio being hauled away by two policemen. Overjoyed, I approved the design. The maestro and I exchanged email addresses, and he vowed he would get to work on it when he could but that he would have it done in plenty of time for me to organize the shipping home. He would send me a photo of it as soon as it was done so I could see and give the final approval. I could hardly believe that I was having a painting done specifically for me! It is one thing to go in and buy a piece and have the artist sign it to you, (which is what I did yesterday... I picked up a nice Pinocchio with the fox and the cat done on a pinkish mauve background which will be great in my new bedroom). But to have a painting done specifically for you, that is something special. You can find an entry on Taccini's Ceramics Shop in Fodor's. But, you would never know it by the lack of foot traffic in Montelupo. It is definitely a hidden gem of a place. This is the Italy I love. The secret, "I know a place..." or "I have a ceramics guy..." or "My jeweler is just terrific..." It is only by spending a long time in a place that you really get to know not just where things are, but where you can get the best panorama photo, or where the best onion marmellata is, or who can get you the best deal, or what artist is the best kept secret. The best kept secret artist is most definitely the maestro, Eugenio Taccini. For the other secrets, you will have to come visit to find out...

Two cars crashing in the night (evening)...

Two cars crashing in the night (evening)... When I lived in Siena, I did some translation work for a group called Radio Papesse (www.radiopapesse.org). It started out as an internship, and then I ended up taking various freelance museum audio guide projects. Some of them are attached to their website unde the archives. It was great fun, and work of which I am very proud. But, mostly, I am grateful because I met some really great people in the process. It is with these great people that I begin my tale today: I received a message via Facebook from Carola, one of the Papesse girls, inviting me to an art opening in Florence for the evening of the 5th. I couldn't say no. I love an art opening and I was eager to reconnect with old friends. So, on the 5th, I cleaned myself up, put on a dress and some make up and headed to Florence, armed with google maps directions to the Villa Romana (www.villaromana.org), where I would see an exhibition of the work of Gianfranco Baruchello. I followed the directions meticulously and when I thought I was almost there, I parked the car in a free (i.e. you don't have to pay) spot outside the walls of the city. I knew it was going to be dicey getting the car out, because of the traffic pattern behind me, but I figured it would be late and there would be less traffic then. So, I left the car and started off on foot. I walked and walked and walked. When I eventually found the Villa Romana, and saw that there was ample free parking on the street out front, I decided to go move the car. I had plenty of time, seeing as I was 20 minutes early (a feat which almost never happens). I set off back to the car, still with plenty of time. I got in the car. I secured my seat belt. I took a slug of warm tea from the bottle next to me. I was ready. I looked in the mirror and eased out of the spot. I got into the lane of traffic without any problem, and then I decided to make a quick u-turn. Wrong... As I turned the wheel, a little Opel Corsa came from nowhere and I hit her. It was totally my fault, since I was making this STUPID U-turn from the inside lane... What was I thinking?? In all honesty, I didn't think I had hit her. I didn't feel an impact, onlt the force of the car stopping abruptly. I got out and surveyed my damage. I had a rub mark on my front left bumper and that was it. I am going to pick up some rubbing compound and rub it out without any problem... Her car, well, there is a dent and a scratch and a HUGE rub mark. She is going to need some body work... I felt really bad, because it WAS my fault. But, geez... I have never had an accident in Italy before, and apparently neither had she. She called her husband and he instructed her to get me to fill in the CID which is an accident report you submit to the insurance when there is not much damage and you don't call the police. I think it is a great idea, and we should have this system in the States. It would make Judge Milian's job on the People's Court SO MUCH EASIER!! Anyhow, we filled in the report, as best as we could. The whole thing was in Italian, and much of it was asking information I could not provide, like in what State the car was registered... It wasn't on any of the little slips of paper I could find. At least no one was hurt. She was terribly nice, this poor Cristina B. who found herself in my path last night. And, maybe she will at least have a fun story to share with her friends and family about how she met this crazy American who rammed into her and kept nattering on about how she had never had an accident before... she couldn't understand what she was thinking... how it was totally her fault... (All things I would NEVER have admitted at home, but since the car has comprehensive insurance under their policy and I am not financially responsible for any of it, I figured I was in the clear.) In any case, I was able to get it all filled in, and get back on my way, now 20 minutes late for the start, but 10 minutes early for the presentation. I found a great spot right out front of the Villa, went in and met up with Carola and Ilaria. I had a wonderful evening, sipping wine, listening to an art historian have a Q&A session with the artist himself and then partaking in an al fresco dinner after. (Actually, I didn't eat, since I had eaten before leaving home, but I sat and enjoyed the company and conversation of long lost friends.) An evening that started with a BANG (or at least a CRASH) ended very quietly, and peacefully. I returned to Castel del Bosco around 1 in the morning, and waited an hour for my AP scores to post (the College Board was posting at 8PM US Time). Much as the evening was a net success, the AP scores were a net success. I had 5 pass, 6 not, but I don't count the one kid who got a 1 because he did no work all year and told me he wasn't even going to prepare for the test or answer the questions seriously. (Nice...) The scores that passed were good and I was pleased overall with the results. Just like my evening: serene, but with a few bumps along the way. Isn't that just like life?

The swimming pool

Today's installment is an entry I wrote last year, about going to the pool here in Pontedera. I am attaching it here now because it is timely, and I will have an addendum to it at the end. Enjoy! I have got a fun new game... we can all play. It is called, "Let's see what we can to to piss of the American swimming laps!" It is easy and fun for the whole family!! The way it works is this: when we see her swimming in her lane, not bothering anyone, we jump in front of her and stop. Or we send our kid to kick water in her face. Or, best yet, and worth the most points, jump in, cannonball-style, right in front of her as she is coming to the end of her lap. Sounds like fun, huh? Well, apparently, for the good citizens of Pontedera, at least those who frequent the 'piscina communale' or the public pool, it provides hours and hours of fun. At least, four hours, to be exact. I have been to the pool four times, each for and hour and I have had nary a quarter of an hour total of peaceful swimming. Now, don't get me wrong, I do understand that this is a pool for everyone, even the rude and obnoxious. However, where is the common decency? There is a lot of space. It is a HUGE pool. Perhaps the biggest pool I have ever seen. It is 50 meters long and at least 25 meters across, perhaps even wider. It is a gorgeous pool. The middle 4 lanes are roped off for adults to swim in, but that doesn't mean that kids don't play there. The first day I went, I was swimming along, minding my own business in a lane with three middle aged men, who were doing likewise. These kids were jumping in as each of these men were finishing their laps. Not one man said a word to them. When it was my turn to finish my lap, one of this 'young imps' dove into me, missing me by centimeters. I stopped, reared up and screeched in English, "Holy Christ, what the f do you think you are doing?" I yelled in English, mainly because it was instinct. I was frightened and shocked. However, it did the trick because they backed off for the rest of our swim. My question is why didn't one of the men say something? These brats will be brats as long as they are allowed to be brats. The next few days were more or less the same... bothersome, but not dangerous. A few fellow swimmers (women) not respecting the lane directions, or swimming backstroke with no idea where they were going. Stuff like that. But, the fourth day... it was an "all play!" I went to the pool knowing there was a thunderstorm brewing. It was cool (75 degrees) windy, and grey. Not a speck of sun. I thought that this boded well for me. The pool would be empty, I could get my swim in. Boy, was I wrong! The place was PACKED!! Kids everywhere. Adults everywhere. (I ask myself why the adults are not at work... and if they are out of work, why are they wasting their money on pool admission which is not cheap.) I got in the chilly water and started my swim. There was one boy who seemingly had my number from the get-go. As I approached him, he went under water and looked me in the eye and as I grew nearer, he swam in front of me and stopped. If I tried to avoid him, he zigged to stop me. I am not exaggerating when I say that this kid was messing with me. When I moved lanes, he followed. What was most shocking, however, was when his MOTHER got in the pool and started swimming laps, not respecting the lane directions and intentionally swam coming at me, when she knew that I was swimming there first and had been swimming to the right. About 5 minutes into this cat and mouse game, her kid started the "let's stop in front of the swimmer" game with his mother. Rather than chew him out for being obnoxious and rude, she just laughed it off. He continued, thinking he was being cute. He was at least 13 years old... far from cute. Now: Flash forward one year. I am no longer frequenting the piscina communale in Pontedera, because of the abysmal behavior of the local kids. I have found a better pool, larger and better equipped for both the swimmer for exercise and the swimmer for fun. Le Barbate is the name of the establishment. It is a private complex, not governed by the rules of the commune. It has two connected pools, one 25 meter lap pool with roped off, dedicated swimming lanes, and one huge kidney shaped pool with slides and big water gushers... everything a kid could want in a pool! I started coming here because I thought the issue of kids in swimming lanes would not be a problem, since they had the other, huge, and way more fun pool just to the left of them. Boy, I couldn't have been more wrong. Can I tell you-- they will leave the worlds of fun pool empty to stand, frolic or cannonball jump into the swimmers' lanes! This is not exclusive to kids, either. Older men will stand at the end of the lane, with arms crossed, blocking your lane turn, and glare at you in a menacing way, as you finish your lap. Older women will simply float in the lane on their backs, sideways. It is almost as if they have no understanding of the concept of DEDICATED SWIMMING LANES. And, the "life guards" do little to nothing to regulate any of this behavior. My only conclusion is that this IS a game that all Italians love to play, not just with Americans, but with swimmers, in general. Much as they do not respect the rule of standing in line and waiting one's turn for anything, they do not respect the rule of the swimming lane. They feel as if they are entitled to run rampant through the pool. They must feel as if they have paid their price for entry and, dammit, they are going to use every inch of the pool, no matter what it is dedicated for. Or, maybe it is not a game after all... The entitlement is their's: Adults here apparently don't reprimand their kids for obnoxious behavior. They often join in with the behaviors. This is why, when you go to a restaurant in Italy, you can spot the Italian kids a mile off. They are the ones running ape-shit-wild around the restaurant, while their parents are busy socializing and smoking cigarettes. The German kids and the Dutch kids are the ones sitting quietly, eating their meals, not saying a word. The American kids may be sitting at the table, but they are being loud, usually complaining that they want something else to eat, something that isn't on the menu. I am glad to see that the phenomenon of the little snowflake is not particular to the good old U.S. of A.