Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Italy is Beauty
Defining Italy brings to mind many words: faith, love, beauty, art, history, death. But if I had to chose one, I'd pick beauty. Each town I've visited in Italy inspires me in a different way. Rome, history and intrigue. Florence, art and contemplation. Capri, beauty and mysticism. Pompeii, archeology and death. Anacapri, creation and awe. Brescia, design and appreciation. Moniga, landscape and tranquility. I could go on and on. But I'd rather you see for yourself.
When a place inspires you, when it opens up feelings hindered by the cement walls and temperature controlled rooms you live in, you are forever changed. Some for good, others for new affinity for home wherever that may be. Italy is not my home, yet it is. I keep it in my heart when in Texas and Arkansas. I look for it and find it in the small areas of my world.
Arkansas may not boast frescoes of colorful angels on my ceiling as the palace in Brescia did, but I do find color. Houston, Texas certainly would be miserable in the hot, humid summer without A.C. but on the cool windy days I am reminded of the smell of Italy's air.
Living among a new culture allows me to reflect and realize what exactly I love about life. When abroad, you tend to group your favorite things in two categories. One: Things I Can't Wait To Get Home To: the love of my life, my two dachshunds, family, friends, my sense of security; all things not replaceable. And Things I Will Miss: gelato, unprocessed food, the Italian language, pasta, mosaics, walking instead of driving; cultural aspects.
Does this mean I belong to a culture that is not mine? Was I born in the wrong country? Do I have Italian blood running through this mixed breed of Irish, Scottish and who knows what else? Or do I just simply appreciate a way of life that I want to incorporate in my own?
Dinners where conversation can overrun the meal. Mid-day breaks where one can re-charge. A city that remains true to tradition. I can infuse these practices into my lifestyle. It's possible in America. But before I turn on that t.v. and settle in for the evening, I must remember that reality cannot be captured in a box. It must be experienced outside, in creation, where beauty is ultimately mimicked in art. And I can find that everywhere.
But I am glad I found it in Italy.
When a place inspires you, when it opens up feelings hindered by the cement walls and temperature controlled rooms you live in, you are forever changed. Some for good, others for new affinity for home wherever that may be. Italy is not my home, yet it is. I keep it in my heart when in Texas and Arkansas. I look for it and find it in the small areas of my world.
Arkansas may not boast frescoes of colorful angels on my ceiling as the palace in Brescia did, but I do find color. Houston, Texas certainly would be miserable in the hot, humid summer without A.C. but on the cool windy days I am reminded of the smell of Italy's air.
Living among a new culture allows me to reflect and realize what exactly I love about life. When abroad, you tend to group your favorite things in two categories. One: Things I Can't Wait To Get Home To: the love of my life, my two dachshunds, family, friends, my sense of security; all things not replaceable. And Things I Will Miss: gelato, unprocessed food, the Italian language, pasta, mosaics, walking instead of driving; cultural aspects.
Does this mean I belong to a culture that is not mine? Was I born in the wrong country? Do I have Italian blood running through this mixed breed of Irish, Scottish and who knows what else? Or do I just simply appreciate a way of life that I want to incorporate in my own?
Dinners where conversation can overrun the meal. Mid-day breaks where one can re-charge. A city that remains true to tradition. I can infuse these practices into my lifestyle. It's possible in America. But before I turn on that t.v. and settle in for the evening, I must remember that reality cannot be captured in a box. It must be experienced outside, in creation, where beauty is ultimately mimicked in art. And I can find that everywhere.
But I am glad I found it in Italy.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Saint of Urbino Story
Check out www.inurbino.net to read my story on San Crescentino: Urbino's Patron Saint.
The legend, tradition and faith has been fascinating to learn about.
The legend, tradition and faith has been fascinating to learn about.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Saturday afternoon, we headed out of Urbino for a 25 minute car ride to the countryside town of Orsaiola. A painting called Madonna Del Giro travels between churches, no matter how big or small. Processions are celebrations often used for honoring saints but on this occasion the piece of art depicting Mary was the reason for the procession. The purpose of this procession was to bring the painting from one church in Orsaiola in the region of Urbania to another church, Chiesa di San Nicola, located less than 5 miles away.
Rain clouds gathered over the church making us question if the procession would be possible. An umbrella was tucked away in my purse but I was hoping I wouldn't have to use it. This was my first procession.
The procession would start once the painting was loaded up and driven to the starting point. The march's starting point was down the road because otherwise it would have been too far to walk. The walk was among and up hills.
The sun came out and the rain clouds cleared once the painting left the church.
The procession was equip with a band that played upbeat songs reminding me of one from The Godfather. Check this out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yRxK-3buon0
Old and young together played.
The procession was led by the painting, followed by the priests who said prayers in between the band's songs. The faithful followed behind.
Carried by four men, the painting made its way to the new church escorted by Carabinieri.
About 300 people walked in the procession. They murmured prayers led by the priest as we climbed the hill to Chiesa di San Nicola.
A steady but slow pilgrimage to the top. Wearing sandals, my feet began to hurt on the gravel road but I did not complain because women all around me wore heels.
Our destination. When we arrived, mass was performed outside. After this hour long mass, meat sandwiches were passed out and a choice between water, wine or soda was to be made.
The bells rang as if to encourage and welcome our climb to the top.
The hills and country side below. The smell of incense surrounded us as we marched one mile.
Miles and miles of hills, trees, farm land, sunflowers and wild flowers set the scene.
Band and angels.
The angels at the top.
Rain clouds gathered over the church making us question if the procession would be possible. An umbrella was tucked away in my purse but I was hoping I wouldn't have to use it. This was my first procession.
The procession would start once the painting was loaded up and driven to the starting point. The march's starting point was down the road because otherwise it would have been too far to walk. The walk was among and up hills.
The sun came out and the rain clouds cleared once the painting left the church.
The procession was equip with a band that played upbeat songs reminding me of one from The Godfather. Check this out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yRxK-3buon0
Old and young together played.
The procession was led by the painting, followed by the priests who said prayers in between the band's songs. The faithful followed behind.
Carried by four men, the painting made its way to the new church escorted by Carabinieri.
About 300 people walked in the procession. They murmured prayers led by the priest as we climbed the hill to Chiesa di San Nicola.
A steady but slow pilgrimage to the top. Wearing sandals, my feet began to hurt on the gravel road but I did not complain because women all around me wore heels.
Our destination. When we arrived, mass was performed outside. After this hour long mass, meat sandwiches were passed out and a choice between water, wine or soda was to be made.
The bells rang as if to encourage and welcome our climb to the top.
The hills and country side below. The smell of incense surrounded us as we marched one mile.
Miles and miles of hills, trees, farm land, sunflowers and wild flowers set the scene.
Band and angels.
The angels at the top.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Keeping It Local
It was an adventure filled day. My alarm went off at 3:30 a.m. so I could be ready to leave by 4 for the coast. On assignment for a fish story, two group members and I followed a local fish truck to see how they gather their gold.
We snaked around curvy roads, arriving at Rimini, close to Pesaro, in about an hour. When we arrived, we went into a smelly room filled with fish, squid, crab, lobster, mussels, sardines and even sting ray. The workers hauled each iced filled containers onto a conveyor belt that ran across a sort of fish stage that men from above inspected before keying in their orders.
The prices were projected on the wall above and depending on the quantity of the day's catch varied from high to low. We asked where we could film the boats that brought in the fish and were soon led down the block where the Adriatic was waiting to greet us.
About 100 boats of all shapes and sizes were anchored in the bay. We walked around and saw fisherman unloading their nets. They were a happy lot. As we made our way back to the car, the owner of the Urbino market asked if we would join them for an espresso before heading back to town. Our Italian counterparts did not speak English and we little Italian, but we managed to have a delightful exchange.
On the way back, I counted the hours I could sleep until my next task, but I ran into another group member who was on her way to interview a cheese maker. "Why not?' I thought. So I loaded up and was off to see cheese.
This is fresh cheese.
Production of ricotta.
The big pot of cheese.
A day's hard work.
What a joy it was to see how fresh indeed the food is here in Urbino. The efforts of the citizens is to be celebrated.
We snaked around curvy roads, arriving at Rimini, close to Pesaro, in about an hour. When we arrived, we went into a smelly room filled with fish, squid, crab, lobster, mussels, sardines and even sting ray. The workers hauled each iced filled containers onto a conveyor belt that ran across a sort of fish stage that men from above inspected before keying in their orders.
The prices were projected on the wall above and depending on the quantity of the day's catch varied from high to low. We asked where we could film the boats that brought in the fish and were soon led down the block where the Adriatic was waiting to greet us.
About 100 boats of all shapes and sizes were anchored in the bay. We walked around and saw fisherman unloading their nets. They were a happy lot. As we made our way back to the car, the owner of the Urbino market asked if we would join them for an espresso before heading back to town. Our Italian counterparts did not speak English and we little Italian, but we managed to have a delightful exchange.
On the way back, I counted the hours I could sleep until my next task, but I ran into another group member who was on her way to interview a cheese maker. "Why not?' I thought. So I loaded up and was off to see cheese.
This is fresh cheese.
Production of ricotta.
The big pot of cheese.
A day's hard work.
What a joy it was to see how fresh indeed the food is here in Urbino. The efforts of the citizens is to be celebrated.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Siempre Eat, Drink and Be Merry
Our sommelier, Otello Renzi, described each wine and how it's paired with food.
The most glasses I have ever had at one meal. A total of 5 different wines and 5 courses of food. The Italians know how to create an experience and unforgettable memory out of a meal.
Antipasto, the first course consisting of ricotta cheese, caicesta (a special cheese made in this area), salami, quiche and prosciutto.
The second course consisted of pasta with mushrooms. But I was focused on tasting the wine.
Third course, pasta with beef and mushrooms. Delightfully paired with white wine.
Fourth course, meat from cow and pig. Well-seasoned for this picky meat eater. Vegetarians would turn carnivore over this specialty. Zucchini and tomato accompanied the meat.
At the end of four hours, dessert was served. Fresh berries topped the cake with a creamy icing that was more smooth and cool than sweet.
At the conclusion of this extraordinary dinner, espresso was served. The food and wine were of the highest taste and class. The outdoor setting added to the experience. Fifty of us, mostly American and then generous Italian hosts, took in the fresh air from a table that sat us all comfortably with candlelight illuminating the scene.
As one diner put it, it was a complete "feast of the senses." Entrance to Serra Alta.
The restaurant is called Serra Alta in Fermingnano, Italy. It also serves as a bed and breakfast. www.serraalta.it
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Urbino is lived on the outside
Windows and doors stay open at many residences to let in cool air, the neighbor's house on the right posted a sign announcing away on vacation.
We enjoyed breakfast with espresso outside; I could not pick just one dolce.
Serving as background to Urbino, this scene appears in the background in one of Raphael's painting.
Delicious lunch of pomodoro and mozzarella mixed in noodles made with egg and gnocchi on the side. The potato is 3piante's version of french fries, rosemary and olive oil grilled slices.
Bikes and, of course, feet are the main mode of transportation here.
Sun sets into the mountains.
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