| The Travel Lady In Her Shoes

Pinocchio and Pizza

Montepulciano Italy

I would rather eat a fresh baked piece of bread than just about anything. To tell the truth, I could eat an entire loaf if left to my vices. For Italian bread lovers there is focaccia, ciabatta, pizza. FCP. I love it all. Italian rustic bread with olives and rosemary, bring it on. In Florence I was first introduced to Ribollita, day old bread covered in a tuscan vegetable soup (reboiled day old soup). Italy is famous for using day old bread/ no salt bread, in their dishes and I was curious about this. In one of the most popular places for cuisine on earth, recipes have developed from a history of malnutrition and hunger. During the war, the working class lived on what they could gain from their meager rations and gather from the land.

The cookbook, Cucina Povera, by Pamela Sheldon Johns, tells the story of Tuscan peasant cooking. Simple dishes inspired from fresh seasonal ingredients, cooking and eating in season. It is also a history book and picture book. Traveling throughout Italy Johns interviews older people to see how they managed during hard times. They tell heart warming stories and share their recipes and how they cook and how their parents cooked in days gone by. The photographs capture the Tuscan countryside, the families, and the prepared dishes. Most of these men and women ate bread that was baked in the community forno (furnace/oven) once a week. Salt, which was highly taxed, was too expensive to use in bread. It was needed for curing meat and making cheese, not making bread. Bread made without salt quickly dries out, because the salt holds in the moisture. Nothing was wasted, so dishes prepared including dried out bread were essential for survival. From these facts classic Italian recipes were born. Panzanella anyone? Bread salad made from day old bread, tomatoes, cucumber, onion, olive oil and basil. I can not wait!

Uptown Montepulciano Italy

Pamela Sheldon Johns, the author of Cucina Povera, owns a bed and breakfast (I wanted to write Bread and Breakfast) called Agriturismo (Farmhouse) Poggio Etrusco and teaches cooking classes there. It is located outside Montepulciano, Italy where I am going to a language school. I will not have a car while I am there and did not know about this place when I made my arrangements for the school, otherwise I truly would have considered staying there. She speaks very highly of the village cobbler, Virio Neri and he speaks highly of his mother’s cooking. These are pictures of Montepulciano, where I will be living for almost a month.

Notice the guy on the roof that looks like Pinocchio? I wonder if that is who he is? Pinocchio can be found in full glory all around Florence. So maybe he is here too?
Carlo Collodi, the pen name of Carlo Lorenzini, was born in Florence, Italy in 1826. He wrote de Avventures di Pinocchio. (Italian spelling). It was published in a weekly newspaper written for children called, Il Giornale per i Bambini. In the early versions of Pinocchio, Pinocchio was made of bread, not wood, and at the end of the story he was hung. A little radical for a children’s fairy tale. So the story was re-written and Pinocchio was fashioned from a piece of wood and taken care of by the carpenter/woodcarver, Geppetto. As we all know reading Pinocchio, all he wanted was to be a real boy and go to school. Well we know his nose grows when he lies too. I think all Pinocchio wanted was to be a real boy and EAT bread and pizza. I am going to try to find Mr. Neri, in Montepulciano. After all, he is the carpenter of Montepulciano and he cooks.

My Take on Magnificent Corpses

Duomo Florence Italy

The Duomo, Milan, Italy

I find myself drawn to historical books (and some not so historical) about saints, pilgrimages, the Medici clan, Leonardo da Vinci and the Catholic Church. All throughout Italy there are beautiful small churches, grand duomos, magnificent basilicas, filled with beautiful earth shattering art and sculptures. When I was in high school I had to take an art appreciation class as a freshman and I hated it. Pictures in a book. However, when I went to Italy and saw the real McCoy I wanted to know more. Who were the painters, the sculptors, the saints? What did it all mean? In the churches I had known, there might be a small cross, maybe a statue of Mary, or stained glass windows of Jesus as a shepherd with baby lambs. Church buildings looked to be a gymnasium. You get the picture. The Italian church soared into an azure sky, the pink marble glistened in the sun, the saints peered down at you. In Italy the fresco scenes were filled with gnashing of bodies or cherub angels floating across an Italian landscape. Sometimes both in the same scene. The detail and brilliance of color and depth in the scenes of people in deep distress or in a trance beyond words was captivating. There were armored men going on crusade urging their followers forward. A woman standing steadfast while holding the bloody head of a man in her gnarly strong hand. The man triumphant over the defeated slain dragon. The pictures became real. The pictures told stories. You didn’t even have to know the story, you got the message. No matter what language you spoke, words weren’t necessary. The frescoes and paintings said it all. Passion. Faith.

The Duomo, Milan, Italy

And I wanted to know more about those bones. Those pieces of bodies and what they were there for. I think the first relic (term for holy bits and pieces of people or their clothing) I remember and payed any attention to, was inside a tiny glass window lit up in an alcove in a small exit way leaving a church. It was a hand. I thought well that is odd and went up closer to take a better look. It was a real shriveled up cut off hand. I wasn’t sure what to do. I looked around me. Do you act like you didn’t see it? Ho hum that’s nice. Do you drop to your knees and pray? Why was that there? I was taken back. I had to know more. So I decided to read up on it. Hence, I started reading that………

During the early years of the church, the body parts of holy people were highly prized and sought after for their healing powers, and brought fame and followers to any church that presented these body parts or even the clothing these people wore. Remember the man touching Jesus’ clothing and being healed? So rich patrons and crusaders scoured the holy lands and returned with their riches to put them on display in their local churches. Or perhaps a holy person died and was buried on the spot. Believers came to this site to pray. A church was built. More people came. The believing flock became the first tourists. In those days the only reason to leave home was to go to war or go on pilgrimage. Sometimes a penance of traveling to a particular holy place to pray, repent and receive forgiveness was given to the sinner. The penitent had a lot of time along the way to think things over. The road was not easy. Some would be killed along the way and would never return to their homeland. The Holy Land was too far for most. Rome was a good choice, centrally located, and the Way of St James or the Camino de Santiago through France and Spain was best for others. Most of the people could not read or write. Story telling frescoes, awe inspiring churches rising to the heavens to meet God and the bodies of saints brought the people to the churches. My adventures to following the saints in books began with………

Sant Bartholomew

A Stolen Tongue by Sheri Holman, documents the travels and travails through the journals of Father Felix Fabri to find his spiritual mate Saint Katherine of Alexandria. Her broken body parts are scattered in several churches and have gone missing. He carries her dried up tongue in a pouch around his neck. He needs to find her. Need I say more? Who would not want to know what happens along his path? I was hooked.

Over the years I have read The Holy Feast and Holy Fast, Religious Significance of Food to Medieval Women by Caroline Walker Bynum, Holy Holidays; the Catholic Origins of Celebration by Greg Tobin, Why Do Catholics Eat Fish on Friday?: The Catholic Origin to Just About Anything by Michael P. Foley, Catholicism for Dummies by John Trigilio and Kenneth Brighenti, The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco, and just about every book written about the Way of St James or El Camino de Santiago. I have studied the saints……. and their

Magnificent Corpses. This book written by Anneli Rufus is a travel book with a difference. It encourages you to seek unheard of places contemplating on life and relics of life and what we regard as holy. Anneli focuses not only on the saints, but on the people who come to see them. She follows fifteen of the saints through Italy. So what does this all mean? If you build it and believe it, they will come. And we do. Abundantly.

Church of Santa Maria delle Grazie, Milan, Italy

Books and the Mafia

Cortona Italy

I think this is a good place to talk about the book reading prep I have done for the trip to Italy. Not just this time, but over the years. I love to read and cook, except by now you know I’ve been doing the Nutrisystem thing since January 1st, I have that day etched in my mind, so I just read the cookbooks for now. I’ m saving up the eating part for Italy. My book choices are varied because I like history and mysteries too and of course I have to read the books that talk about people who have actually moved to Italy. There are lots of books to pick from, but these are the books that stuck in my mind. Years ago I read Under the Tuscan Sun, At Home in Italy by Frances Mayes, after I saw the movie. I knew then and there I would go to Italy. I was enthralled by someone who could find a villa, fix it up, live amongst the land and people. Who hasn’t seen that movie or read the book? Since reading that book I have been to Italy several times and visited Cortona, where Frances Mays lives.

The Church Below Cortona

Italians really do have their own time. Italian time…… slow to slower, to never get on with it. Nothing is ever easy. It gets done when it gets done. It would take a lot for me to get used to that as an everyday occurrence. Frances has written several more books about her stay In Italy, learning to cook, growing her own food, keeping a slower pace, and I have read them all. Then she wrote about the pool incident. The village wanted to place a public pool at the end of the dead end lane where Frances lives. She already had people and bus traffic from tourists who parade by her home. She thought it would just add to the congestion. She tells stories of how she can hear what the tourists are saying about her as they stand by the gate and she sits in one of her rooms. Anyway, she wasn’t crazy about the pool idea and neither were her Italian neighbors. So she did the American thing and put together a petition, opposing the pool, to present to town hall. Her Italian neighbors would not sign it. She couldn’t really understand this and decided it was because they did not understand the idea of a petition. Soon after, while picking up the stuffed animals and other souvenirs left by tourists at her gate, she picked up an oblong shaped grey thingy, not really paying too much attention to it. When she looked at it more closely she realized it was a hand grenade, and froze in her tracks, afraid to move any further. Attached was a note telling her to lay off with the petition stuff. The police were called for a bomb threat. The bomb disposal / explosive ordinance team arrived. The grenade was real but inactive. There was a follow up investigation. The police drew no conclusions to who may have placed it. Finally, one brave neighbor explained to Frances, there were certain people you did not cross when they wanted to do something or approved of something. The Mafia. It was her first realization that they exist and still play a part in Italian society. I began to re-think that I actually wanted to move to Italy, because I usually say what I think and would have to pick up grenades everyday.

Cortona

The Church in Cortona

More of My Favorite Steps

I moved on to Marlena de Blasi and started with her book 1000 days in Venice, an Unexpected Romance. Marlena, is my kind of girl, a chef, journalist and food critic. She goes to Venice to work on a cookbook and falls in love with an Italian banker. Through her books you discover the Italian life from Venice to Tuscany to Orvieto. You also discover life with an Italian husband. Soon after they marry, she moves to Venice and he quits his job at the bank. Or maybe he retires, they can retire early there, but anyway, from then on they rely on her book income and his retirement savings. As her books have progressed from their move from Venice to Tuscany to Orvieto, I have felt an edginess develop after the writings of the early book. In the early days there were romantic candlelit perfumed baths taken together, regularly. They enjoyed long walks, holding hands, looking deep into each others eyes.

Now it is, “Marlena, you are spending so much money and you need to get away for a few weeks to write?”

“What, who buys all the fancy clothes? I don’t see your pay going for them!”

“Away from me? Who will cook for me? I have spent two years creating the perfect palazzo for you and you are going off to write? You spend the money on silk furnishings and pillows!”

She now spends more time with women. Her books have really ran the gamut and I have enjoyed them. And she writes about the Mafia. There it is. How they came to be, the influence they still have. Now I have learned another thing. I would not like being married to an Italian man. I have never taken a perfumed candlelit bath with anyone, and I would not like to take care of a husband as I would a child. I would love to see my husband’s face if I suggested that to him, both the bath idea and the supervision! Another reason to love Italy, you realize there are different ways of doing things. When in Rome do as the Romans do. I find it fascinating. I hope this has given you an idea for some great reads. As usual I have typed on and on and never got to the cookbooks or mysteries, so I will leave that for my next post. Grazie!

All Roads Lead to Rome

Charleston For Easter

Some of the window treatments and planters in Charleston

The Windows of Charleston

This post is a break of sorts from the Italian vacation prep. Well sort of. My husband and I just returned from Charleston, one of the greatest cities in the United States. It has everything…… cozy neighborhoods, fantastic architecture, history, cobblestone and cannonball streets, terrific shopping, sea breezes, did I mention the food? Fabulous! We spent the weekend walking, walking and more walking the neighborhoods, which I never tire of. I love the vibrant colors on the homes, one of my favorites is the tangerine color of these shutters. Or maybe the cameo pink of the skinny house. Or maybe the pigeon white of the antebellum. I really can’t decide which one I like best! Temperature in the seventies, the azaleas were in bloom, the fountains gurgling. Around every corner is a hidden garden, certainly one on the side of the Charleston House. We peek through the wrought iron gates. The flower boxes are overflowing at the windows. The churches, especially St Michaels and St Phillips were decked out in fine Easter greenery and floral arrangements were going up on the doors, along the pews and at the altar on Saturday. The ladies stroll Market Street in Easter parade outfits wearing beautiful flowing dresses, pastel hats and gloves. It’s been a while since I saw women so dressed up. Reminded me that I do own a fancy hat!

I also had a method to my madness. I was breaking in a new camera. I wanted to make sure I could take the shots I wanted without fiddling with the camera for ten minutes. I like to shoot and go. My current Canon camera has an eye problem. The shutter won’t shut all the way or it catches sometimes and won’t close at all. So I opted for a Nikon with lots of buttons, settings and zooooooom. I have my friend Katy from PraguebyKaty to thank for even thinking about getting a different camera. She takes wonderful pictures. She takes unusual shots and great videos too. Who knew a camera could have twenty scene descriptions alone? I know indoor and outdoor, ha! This camera has a close-up, food, snow, beach, fireworks, museum, dusk/dawn, sunset, party/ indoor, panorama and pet portrait, to name a few. For the first hour or two I had the camera on auto select. It kept telling me I needed the flash, but it seemed really sunny out to me. So I snapped away with the flash on. The pictures looked washed out. Then I switched to the scene mode. Much better! I didn’t get the really flashy camera, with different lenses and such. Too much to learn before I leave for Italy. I’ll keep playing with this one until I get it right. Here are more of the pictures I took in Charleston.

There are plenty of great restaurants here. This time we tried out some that were new to us and we were not disappointed. Now I must add here that I have been on Nutrisystem since January 1st and eating out in Charleston was a delight I had been saving up for. I love low country food. Shrimp and grits, fried green tomatoes, mustard roasted brussels sprouts. The first place we went to was The Dixie Supply Bakery & Cafe. A hole in the wall place, that could easily be passed by. The locals eat here, need I say more? We just wanted a no fuss lunch and to eat outside in the nice weather. The place was packed both indoors and out. The Dixie Burger is a hamburger with fried green tomatoes, bacon and pimento cheese. AND homemade pickles on the side. Awesome! The other items that caught my eye were the tomato pie and the bacon pecan pie. I didn’t try those, but I wanted to. Oh and they serve Nehi Orange in the bottle. Can’t remember the last time I had a Nehi. I was in heaven!

Going to Charleston was also a chance to break in shoes. The shoes I am thinking about taking to Italy. I wanted to get some mileage on those shoes. Would they be comfortable after walking three to six hours? I test all shoes before I pack them in the suitcase. Many hours, many miles. It will save me heartache and foot ache later. My favorite shoe shop is the Charleston Shoe Company. They specialize in the cobblestone to cocktail shoe. The shoes are very stylish, come in a bazillion colors and styles and are very comfortable. They are machine washable!!!!! I am showing some of my favorites here that I am narrowing down for the trip. I really am leaning toward the red to wear as my dress up shoes. Maybe I will see the Pope and we can compare shoes!

Safety and the Babushka Ladies and Gents, Elderly Grandparent Types

The most important safety and security rule to know when starting out on your vacation abroad is KNOW WHERE YOUR PASSPORT IS AT ALL TIMES. Once I have landed at my destination, found my luggage and gone through customs, I head for the bathroom, my adjustment area. I wear a silk passport protector around my neck so my passport can be worn on my chest. My protector also holds my cash and my credit cards. In my wallet in my purse I carry only what I think I will need for the day. So I put my passport, money and credit cards in my safety passport protector and away I go somewhat secure in the knowledge that my stuff is safe around my neck, on my chest, and under my bra. Here is my scoop on bathrooms. I have never forgotten this. I once read about Debra Dean, author of the Madonnas of Leningrad, going to a restroom in the Copenhagen Airport. The walls of the stalls went all the way to the ground, even the door to the stall. When she tried to leave she pulled on the door of the stall and it would not budge. The lock, like one on a school locker, would just spin without catching. Eventually, a woman came into the bathroom and Debra frantically tried to explain her predicament in English, and realized the women on the other side did not speak English. The woman left. Debra, now in panic mode, tried the trick that works in all the movies. Run a credit card up and down the space between the door and the jamb. It didn’t work. The woman returned with another women who spoke a little English and Debra tried to describe her husband so they could find him. Her husband was eventually found followed by the airport security. There was an exchange of words about breaking the door down, then the sound of metal on metal and the door of the stall swung open. So….the moral of the story is Always Look Before You Lock. If the walls go all the way to the floor I gently prop my foot up and hold the door closed, not locking it while using the toilet. No easy task, but hey I am not locked in the stall! I try to wipe down the door with a Handywipe before I leave it too. This episode reminds me why I like the Babushka Ladies, the word I use to describe the helpful grandmotherly type women. Sometimes you can find them seated out in front of the bathrooms in big traffic areas of markets, museums, etc. in European cities. They look like someone you would not mess with, a meaty sort of woman with big arms, no smile. She sits behind a table with small toiletry items on it. You pay her to get into the bathroom. Men and women must pass her and pay her. She knows who goes in and out. I love this woman! I know if I don’t come out she is going to come looking for me. I know no one will be fooling around in her bathroom. I know I can adjust my passport protector. I know she can break down that door if she needs to!!!!! I look for the Babushka Lady bathroom! I’m sharing my private trade secrets here!

I have found that same security in other areas. Babushka ladies can be found at train terminals. For some reason I have problems with tickets and how to use them properly in the machines. Safety and Security Help #2: Watch the person in front of you to see how to operate any kind of machine, any machine that requires a stamp or placing a ticket into a slot. In Paris I once put my ticket in the train turn style in the wrong slot. How could there be two slots and I pick the wrong one? Well, anyway it ate my ticket. So my hubby trudged back to the line to buy another one. The line was long so I pushed the luggage to the side of the turn style to wait. While I waited more people approached the turn style and had the same problem that I had experienced. Except, one little detail, they just picked up their luggage, and pitched it over the turn style with their body following suit. What? Not long after, teens came along, no ticket at all and just jumped the turn style altogether. I just stood there. That’s when the Babushka Lady Police showed up. They asked me questions in french. I did a lot of arm waving and pointing and mime trying to explain about my ticket. They shrugged their shoulders and looked the machines over until my husband came with a new ticket. But, I thought all along someone was watching me on a camera and sent the Babushka ladies to see what was going on.

Safety and Security Help #3. Be on the lookout for Babushkas

Last year I stood perplexed at the train station turn style at Victoria Station in London. I fiddled for the right ticket, why are there always so many? Before I could say Jack Robinson there was a Babushka lady there who opened the turn style and told me to just go on through. There must be lots of cameras and ladies for me. I take comfort in that.

While at the Prague train station I encountered the Babushka Man. I placed my luggage at my side on the floor while looking up at the screen to see what platform I should be going to. The next thing I knew a man had picked up my luggage and was walking off with it. I was so surprised. I rushed after him, tried to speak to him, tried to take my luggage back. He kept walking and talking, with me huffing and puffing behind him, going through a tunnel, up the stairs and to a platform. As he put the suitcase down, I took a good look at him for the first time and noticed he DID have some sort of uniform on. Well it was a blue shirt and slacks that matched. I got the message to stay put. He left, but I didn’t think that I was on the right platform and how did he know? The train did pull in that I was to take, but not my carriage. There are numbers on the carriage that match your ticket and seat number. The Babushka Man came back to the platform to make sure I was still there. I watched him out the corner of my eye as he helped other people with their luggage. He watched me while the carriage I needed was brought round and hooked to the train. He motioned for me to get on. I obeyed and was so surprised when I boarded. There were little red velvety booths with sliding wooden doors instead of individual seats. Inside the booth a wooden table separated the cushioned seats. I felt like I was in Agatha Christie’s book, the Orient Express! I’ve never been on such a beautiful train. The Babushka man waved goodbye and I was off. I was the only person on that carriage. I felt bad that I was so stupid! While on the train a concierge came by and took my order for food and brought it to me. He brought me maps of Budapest where I was headed to. When I arrived in Budapest the door of the train opened and there stood a new Babushka Man to take my luggage. I let him. He talked and talked all the way to the cab area while I just nodded and smiled. I had no clue what he said. I tipped him big and wished he could share it with the Prague Babushka Man, who I knew thought I was a jerk.

I have encountered the Babushka Lady in Italy too. The Italian ladies tend to be skinny, older, wearing a black or flowered dress with hose to their knees and black comfortable looking shoe string shoes. It was raining, pouring actually. I was in the Piazza of the Vatican when it started to rain buckets. I noticed an unorganized queue forming in the street and thought it might be the line for a taxi. A taxi stopped. Five Brits jumped from the curb and stumbled over each other to get in that cab. An Italian Babushka lady materialized out of nowhere. She pulled the back door of the cab open and in no uncertain terms told the Brits what she thought of them. Evidently she had been standing there a long time. She was soaked through and through. When they didn’t get out she opened the taxi driver’s door and let him have it too. By now the Brits understood that she was having that cab now! No ifs, ands or buts! The Brits got out and she got in. I went to look for the metro.

In times of need, the Italian Babushka Lady is there for you. I have stopped them to ask questions. I have been lost. I like to greet them on the street. I talk to them on the bus. I know they are thinking my Italian sucks, but they always try to help me. In Milan, again at the train station, I waited by the yellow machine that needs to stamp your ticket before boarding the train. It didn’t stamp properly. Sure enough here came the Babuskas‘ to look at it. At least I had already made it through the turn style right? The ladies moved on and as I stood there a young woman rushed up and asked me in Italian if this was the right train to some city that I thought I had recognized on the boarding screen. I answered her, in my best Italian, trying to reassure her that it was indeed the correct train and she had enough time to make it. She looked shocked that I was not Italian. She scurried on, but I was so happy to realize I was now the new Babushka lady!

PS I have not had the nerve to try to get a picture of the Babushka, maybe this trip!

Easter or Any Time in Italy

The Duomo in Florence Italy

Easter……..I thought I would share some pictures with you. It has been cold in the south the entire month of March to me. No rabbits, no eggs, no peeps. The birds are hardly looking for a mate. Or have they found their mate and are trying to stay warm? This is why I love Italy. On every corner you are reminded of God, of something bigger than you. In Rome there are nuns and priests everywhere all the time. There are Cardinals in their bright red robes and some in magenta huddling in groups to discuss who knows what. There are masses of people in the churches or waiting in line to get into church.

The smallest church will have the most fantastic art. But, what I like are the statues, crosses, stained glass windows, icons, churches big and small, bells ringing and the small memorials on the sides of buildings and at crossroads in the countryside. The Italians say, “God is always watching and it is a good way to remind you to choose between good and evil.” I like to think of it as God is always watching over me. He is everywhere in everything. I like to be reminded.
In a very small Italian village, Montisi, just a blip on the map, my husband and I took a narrow steep paved path from the car park up the hill. At the top was a tiny stone church perched on the cliff. Here on the front of the church was a stone with a map of the village etched into it. In Italian it read, “you are here.” The path took you to the church and back down making a circle. A beginning with no end. Have a blessed Easter!

You Have to Know How to Hold Em’ and Know When To Fold Em’

Traveling in the summer months is easier to pack for. Clothes weigh less and are not bulky. For any trip over seven days I take seven outfits that mix and match. Seven tops and seven slacks. And two lightweight sweaters that go with anything. Interchangeable. Period. This makes a very big wardrobe and believe me it so much easier to deal with. To dress something up add a scarf!

Sacs from Eagle Creek

The next best thing to soap is Compression Sacs from Eagle Creek, the kind that don’t need a vacuum to suck out the air. Put your clothes in it, and then roll the sack like you are rolling out a pie. The air escapes and it is flat as a pancake. A miracle! You will be amazed how much you can get into these sacs! The sacs come in three sizes. Small, medium and large. I take one large Compression Sac empty, to use for dirty laundry. I can separate the dirty from the clean stuff so I always know what is what. They are extremely durable and I have been known to mail home my dirty laundry in these sacs, when I bought too many goodies on vacation. (You’ ll still need to find a box to mail them in, but it will be a small one!) Also, if you go to a laundromat in Europe it is easier and less noticeable to carry your laundry to and fro in these sacs. Mark one for clean and one for dirty, so you can bring back clean clothes in a clean sac. Put dirty clothes in marked dirty sac, roll it up, squeeze out the air and place sacs in Veggie Borsa and off you go to wash! Scented laundry sheets are a real winner. Place them in the dirty clothes sac and in your suitcase and everything will smell heavenly!

Envelopes

The other must have is the Eagle Creek Envelopes and it’s matching bags. These come in different shapes and sizes, the items shown here are the ones I use. One for pants, one for tops, one for underwear and one for toiletries. I love it because it keeps my clothes sorted and I don’t have to pull everything out of my suitcase to find something. Also, if I am staying in one spot for a long time I take the envelopes out and put them in the dresser drawers. Easy! It is amazing how your clothes stay freshly pressed in these envelopes too.

How to do the Shoes

For shoes, your new best friend, will be the plastic sleeves that the newspaper comes in. Perfect for shoes, slide the shoe in and pack them. Keeps everything clean. I wear my heaviest shoes on the airplane and pack another pair in Papa Borsa’s front pouch, which is easy to get to.

Small plastic bags in assorted sizes come in most handy for makeup, lotions or hairspray that may leak. Place all toiletries in a plastic bag before it is put in the toiletry bag. Bring only what is necessary and in small plastic travel containers. A small bar of soap and detergent is handy, to wash out underclothes in my room. I also carry a small nylon stretchy clothes line.

Stuff to carry in your purse at all times:
A Tide to Go pen. You want to get at a possible stain before it has time to set. Ever been to a bathroom to discover no toilet paper? Carry Handywipes always and a No Rinse Hand Sanitizer. Carry a very small umbrella, if you have it with you, you will never need it.

Oh, and duct tape in some bright color to make a fashion statement! Put it on the back of your ankles and you will never get a blister, no matter how far you walk!

The Knee Bone is Connected to the Thigh Bone. The Thigh Bone is Connected to a Headache

Bellagio, Italy

I really want to talk about luggage here. See all the steps? What if you had to go from a) the bottom of that tiny stoned stairway to b) the top where your lodging is? Would you want to drag a large overgrown bear with you? Or better yet, could you carry that bear over your shoulders? Now let’s also throw in, it’s hot outside, you are tired and you are not even sure if this is the right stairway to heaven. Get the picture? Less is more. You can’t take it all with you. Italy like any other place has stores. AND carrying too much will give you a headache to boot.

So you say you will rent a car? Well you still have to get from the airline terminal to the rental car agency. Sometimes in order to get there this will include stairs, tiny narrow escalators, long tunnels with more stairs at the end or a combination of all of them. How much does that suitcase weigh? What about the Borse, how heavy are they? (See the previous post about the Borse family) Some of the most beautiful villages in Italy are all uphill. Even downhill feels uphill to me. Be prepared to pull or carry. Light.

Varenna, Italy

Once after landing at the Florence, Italy airport I made my way to the car rental area and found myself in line behind a group of two men and three women, who were traveling together. Now I could sense this was going to be trouble from the get-go because the women were telling the men, in detail, what to do. One gentleman filled out all the paperwork, as instructed by the ladies and when the agent thought they were through and handing over the papers, the women decided the other gent should be added as a driver as well. Back to the beginning. I stood in line for over an hour and the line behind me got longer and longer.
“Hellooooo, my knee was saying. Why are we standing still for such a long time?” When it was my turn it took ten minutes and out the door I went. Note: Make all your car reservations at home and it will save you time and trouble. When I got outside I found my car parked right behind The Group and watched in awe as they tried to get fifteen pieces of luggage into a mid-sized sedan. Big luggage. They tried every which way under the sun, again at the direction of the ladies and finally decided that the two large cases would have to go in the back seat of the car and the three women would sit on top of them. Bent over. Noses touching the seat in front of them. Those poor men! I hoped they didn’t have to go very far! How would they be when they arrived at their destination? I did not want to know.

I like to take the train most of the time. The trains that are “Mind the Gap” are easily accessible, just step from a platform over a small open space and you are easily on. Prince Charming is never around when you need him. Some trains in Italy are small. The trains in Italy may look like this: 1. Narrow entrance to get on and off . 2. Three or more giant steps that you must be prepared to hoist your luggage to and then yourself. For me it is luggage first than me. 3. Trains are on time (well Italian time) so you have to get a move on when the train comes to a halt. 4. Be prepared for the entrance to be crammed with people who do not want to move to a seat. Picture this. I was taking a train from the Zurich Airport by way of the local train. I had to take a train to get to another train. The train stopped, the door opened and all I saw were faces and piled high luggage. I quickly assessed the situation. The train was ready to depart so up went my case and I scrambled on behind it. Nobody moved. We were eyeball to eyeball with my suitcase squeezed between us. I couldn’t even turn around to face the door and just hoped my fanny would not get caught in it when it closed. I looked up and read the sign. Do not lean on the door. Luckily, I only had one stop to go before we all poured out.

Menaggio, Italy

Sometimes after you reach your destination in paradise there are stairs just waiting to greet you. So you have a room booked on the first floor? Well that will be the second floor in Europe. Most hotels do not have an elevator or if they do it is tiny, not room enough for you AND a large suitcase. You must be able to carry your luggage up the stairs. By the time you get there heavy luggage will make your knees weak, your legs screaming, your back aching, and give you a killer headache. You will need a drink! Or two, but won’t want to walk back down those stairs!

So what kind of luggage do I travel with? One on wheels, durable, but light weight. It measures 16X23 inches and has an easy to recognize name tag

My new best friend

and strong pull out handle to slip on Papa Borsa because he doesn’t like to be carried. Remember that your luggage does not like cobblestones, so it must have a durable handle that can lift it to carry and will not break easily. My favorite accessory is the luggage scale. Don’t leave home without it. You don’t want to get to the airport upon departure to have the smiling attendant say your ticket is now @$$%%^^^%#$$$$ because it is overweight. You will be directed to another line to take stuff out or re-arrange it. Re-arrange it to what? Use that scale beforehand and know how much the suitcase weighs. Practice walking with your suitcase full. Go up and down your stairs at home carrying it. Can you do it? Remember the knee bone is connected to the thigh bone and the thigh bone is connected to the back bone. All the way to your head. Save yourself a headache. Travel light.

Next….. what do I pack and how do I pack it?

It’s All About the Borsa, the Skinny on Bags

There once were three Borse (Italian word for bags) that lived in a long skinny house. They were very excited to be going to Italy! Papa Borsa was big, blue and handsome with lots of pockets. His favorite feature was a big pouch for an extra pair of shoes right on his front that was easily accessible. He could carry a newspaper, an umbrella or sometimes a yoga mat for mama in another side pouch. He also had a heart sleeve, a place he held dear, that carried mama’s lipstick and chapstick and anything small that would make mama look good at all times.

That’s why mama fell in love with him at first sight. He knew he was the brains of the family and carried the computer so he was always ready to compute. He was so thoughtful, with a plastic sturdy bottom on the outside, so he wouldn’t bring dirt into the skinny house. He came from Lug and had lots of brothers and sisters in bright cheerful colors.

The Borse Family

Mama Borsa was an organizer, she wasn’t too big or too small, but just right. She had lots of pockets and zips and came with several straps so was very adjustable to all kinds of situations. Since she was in charge of the purse strings she had a small change purse for credit cards, money and identity cards that clipped to her innards and could never be dropped or left on tables to be lost. She came from the family of Baggallini’s. They were a family of zippy deep pockets and closures, known for their endurance and strength. She was called Odessy by her family, but just mama at home.

Papa and Mama Borsa, had many children, but they decided for the trip to Italy this year it was Veggie Borsa who should go. He was adopted from the check out aisle at the market and was the baby and liked to carry lots of things with him all the time and was very stretchy. Mama had to keep an eye on him when shopping if he left her side. He would be found with all kinds of gifts and goodies and since he was so flexible he would stretch and stretch until he filled up. Mama and Papa were always surprised that he could carry so much and still not be too heavy to carry home. Papa Borsa was so proud of him! Especially when they went to market. With Baby Veggie Borsa along you didn’t need to pay for Papersacks Borsa to carry the groceries home. Baby Borsa was glad to help and never dropped or broke one thing! Even wet he never let the family down. He was a real bagger! After a big day when he was ready for his nap he would fold up so tiny and could be tucked in almost anywhere! And they all slept.

The Borse looked forward to the big plane ride to Italy. There was a big overhead bin where they all could cuddle. Papa hoped he would meet a briefcase to discuss the world in general. Mama hoped to delve into all the fashion and food of Italy with her new bag friends. And Baby Veggie thought he might be the only one along for the ride.

The Mobil Mobile

Talking about mobile phones and apps I must say “Traveler Beware.” Talking, texting or checking email in a foreign country on your mobile phone can cost you big bucks. Well it does if you have an American telephone and are traveling outside the country! In the previous post I explained about City Guides from TripAdvisor. There are no data roaming charges for this app. Very important detail. The same is true of Maplets, another great app, especially for places not found in the City Guides.

Also, I like an app called Translate. Most young people speak English, and are very helpful. But having a backup plan can never hurt.

When traveling outside your home country first notify your telephone provider to turn on the International services. If you do not do this your telephone will not work. Been there, done that and what a bummer that is. However, once your international service is on be prepared for the OMG moment when you see your telephone bill upon arriving home. It will be an eye opener for sure. On this trip to Italy I plan to buy a cheap mobile phone for local calls within the city and to other destinations in Italy. I am going to buy it at the airport upon arrival or wait until I talk to the nuns at Casa di Santa Brigida in Rome where I’ll be staying. I will let you know how that turns out in future blogs. I will also discover how good, bad or ugly my Italian is.

I like taking pictures on my phone. It is easy and convenient, but sometimes I get a glare on it and have no idea what I am taking a picture of or my hand is wobbly and the picture is blurred. This does not stop me from taking the picture however. I know how to use the delete button at the end of the day! On the other hand, I also like to use a small camera that can be carried in a small purse or bag (notice I said small purse) and takes great pictures too. Now I am a “snap and go” kind of gal. I envy those big fancy cameras that I see around the necks of tourists. But, I know I am not going to lug them around or fiddle with lens or tri-pods. My idea of a good camera is one not too big, easy to use, (which translates I don’t have to read a thick manual or take lessons to use it) one that has geo-tracking and the date the picture was taken. Oh, some editing features are helpful, like the ones that can take out stuff that you particularly don’t want to see. Back of heads sound familiar? When I travel I don’t want to look like a tourist. I want to look and feel like a local just out taking a picture or two or thousand!

Next….. It’s all about the borsa!

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Travel, Gardens, Food, Photography, Books, Shoes

Archive for ‘2013’

Pinocchio and Pizza

My Take on Magnificent Corpses

Books and the Mafia

Charleston For Easter

Safety and the Babushka Ladies and Gents, Elderly Grandparent Types

Easter or Any Time in Italy

You Have to Know How to Hold Em’ and Know When To Fold Em’

The Knee Bone is Connected to the Thigh Bone. The Thigh Bone is Connected to a Headache

It’s All About the Borsa, the Skinny on Bags

The Mobil Mobile

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