The exploration continues

That afternoon, I boarded another train to a spot that has captured my interest for many, many years – the Cinque Terre. Two hours later, as I had stared in awe at the Mediterranean landscape passing my window, I arrived at my home for the next three days – Vernazza. Vernazza is one of the smaller villages in the Cinque Terre – unique lands adjoined by miles and miles of trails – some along the water and some reaching into the mountainsides that surround the towns. The towns are also linked by frequent trains and a ferry system that allows for easy passage from one town to the next in the matter of minutes – fighting the crowds onto the trains was another story. In fact, the biggest downside of the area was simply the crowds – I had heard it described as a Disneyland of sorts. As someone who was coming off of 5 weeks in the countryside, it was indeed a bit of a shock. Queues to get on trains, trains that were standing room only; queues at the pizzeria and the gelatterias and waits of 20 minutes for a proper restaurant. The crowds only forced me to find my only way of retreating – to explore off the beaten track; to turn left while everyone else turned right. This always leads to some interesting and unexpected adventures.

Night one, I checked into my hotel, grabbed a book and a towel and headed for the beach. Little did I know that the beach would actually be a boat landing with a small strip of sand and boulders and bulkheads everywhere. No matter, I was there for the water, not the beach. I wanted to feel the spray of the sea and here the crashing of the waves; I found a cozy nook on a pile of rocks and read and people watched for hours. It never hurts when you have a good book that is capturing your interest (The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest). The town appeared to be full of Italians and at the end of the day, I watched locals bringing in their boats and others heading off for sunset cruises. Dinner was a quick bite at a pizzeria which had a framed letter on the wall from the owners of Perche No – an Italian restaurant next to Greenlake – just a mile or so from my house. What a small world; the restaurant had been recommended by the owners at my hotel. Back to my room for a leisurely shower and sleep in a real bed – the first comfortable bed I had had in 5 weeks.

In the morning, I headed to the hotel for their breakfast buffet – a beautiful spread of pastries, cheeses, salamis, granola, fresh fruit yogurt and the most amazing cappuccinos – topped with a thick foamed milk and a beautiful array of flowers – see the picture on their web page as I am still lacking an upload cable. And then I was off for the day – I bought a 2 day Cinque Terre pass – entitling me to free access to the trains, the trails and to buses that covered the outlying areas. I grabbed a train to Corniglia – the next town south and set off to see what I could find. Corniglia is the only of the 5 villages that is set off the sea – a staircase of 365 steps takes you to the village from the train station (or a quick bus). It’s a quaint little town with narrow passages and of course an array of gift shops, cafes and pizzerias. After a bit of wandering, I saw a sign to “al mare” and decided I wanted to see the sea – I had hoped that it might lead to a trail that would take me to another village or the train station. Instead, I descended down several hundred stairs to a dead-end at the sea – another boat launch with rock formations. I laid out the towel and decided to enjoy a more quiet sea spot with my feet dangling into the waves and my book on my lap. As I climbed the stairs back to the village, I remembered my commitment for this to be my quiet day and descended more stairs once again to return to the train station. Soon, I was in Manarola – the smallest of the 5 towns. I grabbed a beautiful slice of pizza with onions, olives and anchovies (the local specialty) and headed for the beach to enjoy lunch. On exploring the town, I decided to grab a bus to see what I thought was an old olive press. Instead, I watched as we drove past a sign identifying the press and continued up into the hillsides. As we pulled to a stop, I had no idea what was there – only spying an old church. I asked the bus driver when the next bus came and what there was to see, as it seemed to be pretty sleepy. She encouraged me to check out the trail leading back to Corniglia – I was in flip flops with no sun screen and wearing a sleeveless dress with leggings and thought maybe it was not the best plan, but decided I might as well give it a try as the next bus was not for almost two hours. Little did I know that I would be walking through about 45 minutes of Cliffside trails through a wine cooperative – vineyard upon vineyard with narrow trails with and dry rocky land – beautiful vistas of the Manarola and the sea; slip sliding in my flip flops and sun bearing down on my skin. Thankfully, I had a water bottle with me and was able to stay hydrated. I then walked about 45 minutes through forested land – up and down, sometimes scrambling down stairs and climbing up slopes. Finally, I could see me end point in sight – Corniglia – another 30 minutes descending stairs under the blazing heat of the midday. I returned to the town, found the first water spigot (a typical site in these ancient towns from the days when the homes were not plumbed and people had to go to a central point to collect water) available and doused myself in the refreshing flow of water. A few minutes later, I bought a beautifully cold bottle of water and drank it down before heading back down the stairs to once again take a train.

Next stop – Riomaggiore. The southern most of the 5 towns and one of my favorites. This one is bigger than the other towns that I had visited thus far and was full of life without being overly touristy – crowded but still retaining its charm and uniqueness. I arrived as the day was getting late and wandered about in my usual non-agenda seeking fashion. As the night started to fall, I found a small pizzeria that served pasta and decided to try out a beautiful salad made with boiled potatoes, octopus, mussels, green olives, parsley and lots of olive oil. I had a slice of focaccia with anchovies to top it off. The seaside was making my tummy very happy. I noticed a bus stop and decided to explore and realized that a bus was coming soon – learning from my mistakes, I thought I would just hop on to take a round trip tour. As I boarded the bus, it was just me and another older Italian woman. Soon the bus began filling with people who clearly knew each other – I could only guess that there were people who were finishing work for the day and heading back home. Everyone seemed to know each other and in typical Italian fashion, the talking was loud and jovial. Soon the bus departed, and we climbed the hillside – beautiful views of the sea and the village below. People got off as the bus precariously wound through narrow roads. As we reached the final stop and all of the other passengers departed, the driver explained that he wasn’t returning to the town and could drop me at the parking lot at the top of the hill. 15 minutes later, I had walked back down the hill to the train station and was soon traveling back to Vernazza for the night.

Exploration

Five weeks into my time in Italy, I finally took a break. Not that the work has been that hard, but it’s still nice to have some time to sight see and just relax as I see fit. I planned my trip well and was nearby many exciting places – making it easy to see quite a bit in a short period of time.

I had the good fortune of being close by Torino and a neighbor, Tina, commuted there via car and train daily – I went along to spend a day exploring this truly beautiful city – I had unfortunately planned a day when all of the exhibits and museums were closed and was unable to visit one of the grand palaces, but had a great day none-the-less. One of the girls from Il Cucchio was from Torino and she filled me in on some must see places. I visited the Mercado de Porta Palazzo - the largest outdoor market in Europe. It was mostly filled with peddlers pushing cheap clothing, luggage, handbags, house wares, shoes – you name it. In one large section, it was all food – mostly fruits and vegetables, but also cheeses, salamis, olives, mushrooms, and other Italian specialties. Another area contained organic and heirloom produce – beautifully misshapen and flawed. The area is home to a large immigrant population and I soon felt at home wandering amongst people from Asia, Africa and the Middle East – all speaking in Italian and their native tongues. The stores and restaurants surrounding the market also represented the diversity of the people – beautiful bakeries and coffee shops where I soaked up the culture and attempted to catch up on the news via an Italian newspaper. From there I wandered the streets, encountering piazza (square) after square – beautiful and grand; having a great lunch near the University and exploring the River Po.

With no good stopping points, I decided to catch an early train back to Asti where I was to meet Tina and take an hour to explore. Asti is a small town – I easily reached the town center within a 15 minute walk from the train station. As I had spent my day on foot, I decided to pass my time in a piazza watching a pick up soccer game of 7 kids ranging from about 6 to 12 years in age while enjoying a final gelato of the day.

The next day, I packed up and left for Genova – a gritty, port city that is ancient, beautiful and at times a bit unseemly. In my typical style, I planned for little and simply followed the flow of people leaving the train station – some had suggested the aquarium as a must see, but I know that my favorite city exploration happens in people watching, trying new foods and exploring neighborhoods off the typical tourist path. I encountered beautiful churches, fountains and the waterfront. I wandered a street (Via Girabaldi) that is lined with former palaces, many in various stages of restoration. I wandered small lanes full of immigrants, shops and restaurants catering to the many Asian and African people that populate the city. It was a side of Italy that I am just beginning to learn about – the more recent massive Asian influx that is taking place and the long standing emigration from Africa. Having recently been a recipient of the Italian health care system, I had learned that Italy grants free health benefits to all – regardless of status or residency – a huge incentive for immigration and a welcomed relief for those of us traveling from afar.

More to come . . .

Taking a break

I am leaving the nut farm on Tuesday morning and will be without internet until at least next Friday/Saturday - arriving then at my next stop for 2 weeks - I am guessing I will have access as she has been quite good at communicating via email. For now, the schedule is - Monday, spend the day in Turin sightseeing - looking forward to seeing the Mercato di Porta Palazzo - the largest open air market in Europe, also have some great recommendations on food and gelatto from a girl from Turin that has been staying on the farm. I had back to the nut farm to sleep that night as they have generously allowed me to stay one more night - its only an 70 minute train ride and the neighbor commutes there daily so I will tag along with her to the train station and back. Tuesday, I pack up and and head to Genoa, en route to the Cinque Terre - the plan is for spending the day in Genoa - they have a place to stow luggage for a small fee at the train station; I'll continue on to the Cinque Terre that night where I will spend 3 nights at a cute seaside B&B . I'll leave on Friday and travel to Modena for the next farm - Ca Penelope.

Excited about break in the schedule - the work has not been difficult, but I have found myself craving some solo time. The B&B I have selected looks like a find - a private room in the heart of Vernazza - one of the quieter towns, but just a 3 minute walk to the sea. It appears to be family run and I am  feeling good that they will help guide me to the best of the area. If you are not familiar with the Cinque Terre - it is a series of 5 towns on the seaside in the Italian Riviera. The towns are all completely car-free, built into the hillsides with stairs and walking paths. They are considered a National Park and have been protected to prevent overpopulation and their rustic charm. They are connected via rail stops that travel frequently - although the whole stretch only runs 5 miles, making them quite easy to explore by foot over the course of a few days; there is also a passenger ferry that shuttles people from town to town.

Life in Italia

I am now happily settled into my life in Italia. My new house is much more lively and much less work than the last spot - typical Italians, in a not so typical way. We start our days early, to capture the sunlight and the cooler weather and then finish for the morning about 11am or noon. Off to a nice lunch, a caffe and many hours of siesta, hanging out - whatever. At around 5pm, we head back out to the orchard and work for another 3 hours or so - coming back in to hang out while dinner is being prepared - sitting down around 10pm. My body has still not gotten used to the idea of a short sleep and then a nap in the mid-day. I think it is a smart way of being with the heat of the mid-day, but I still crave the 8 hours and find myself somewhat lethargic all of the time.

Yesterday, I worked with the neighbors in the evening - they have a small plot of hazelnuts that they work on their own. Afterward, we dined together on a light dinner and got to know each other. The family speaks little English, but using my rudimentary Italian, I was able to learn that they are far from a tipico familgia. The house is shared by a lesbian couple - Terri & Tina, their 7 year old son - created through artificial insemination and a sperm donor in Brussels - I am guessing that this may not be possible in Italy, hence their reason for traveling to Belgium for the procedure; they also live with Tina's mom and her grandmother. Joining us at dinner was a friend with her son. Terri & Tina practice Buddhism - breaking ways with Italy even further. It was a surprising encounter - Italy is so dominated by the Catholic church one forgets that freedom of thinking happens no matter where you are. Regardless of their differences, Terri and Tina's home was so typical of my Italian experience - many generations, a slow and leisurely meal and much laughter and enjoyment present in every aspect of the day. It was nice to celebrate the differences and the commonalities of their life.

Hazelnuts

Having a quiet time while awaiting lunch - its a nice change of pace to be in a place where I am not cooking daily. I arrived last night to a very full house - 3 permanent adults - 2 Italian and one French; 2 volunteers from Montana, 2 from Britain, 2 from France, 1 from Southern Italy and friends of the owners - 1 from France and a family of 5. Dinner was a raucous experience and I have really learned to appreciate lardo - an Italian delicacy of cured pork fat with rosemary, salt and lots of pepper. I had been told about it by a friend who had spent time in Italy and could not imagine eating it, but Lupe - one of the owners and a former professional chef who has worked in Michelin rated restaurants in Paris and Milan made a beautiful dish of potatoes sauteed with olive oil, salt, rosemary and garlic and then placed in a roasting pan and topped with thin sliced lardo and roasted until the lardo is crisp and the potatoes are done and nicely coated with the fat and flavorings - belissima.  We also had a beautiful salad of roasted peppers, sauteed greens, the ever present tomato salad and of course pasta with tomato sauce. Dinner was accompanied by much wine and caffe and grappa to finish off the meal. All eaten somewhere after 10:30pm; finishing just close to midnight in true Italian fashion. Morning arrived early as they take advantage of cooler temperatures to pick the hazelnuts - a very labor intensive process of raking and sorting each nut by hand. 6 of us produced a wheelbarrow full of nuts by about 11am when Lupe arrived to tell us that it was time to end or the morning. We will have lunch, a siesta and then head back out to the fields around 6pm to start again until dusk. A nice leisurely pace and a very jovial group has made this a nice first day. I think I will enjoy my week here and the change of pace.

Mi ultime giorni in Toscana

This last week has been surprisingly good. Injuring my finger has allowed to learn some valuable lessons – trust in the kindness of strangers; accept that all will be ok – perhaps not the expected outcome, but it will be the way it is supposed to be and the most important lessons – allow others to help me and I need to slow down and enjoy the journey. Work is important, but the primary reason for my trip was to learn about Italy – its people, its cultures, its food and its way of being. Being busy and working all the time just does not allow for the true experience.

This last week, I have been the girl with one hand, 9 fingers – I had to learn to eat with my left hand for a few days, unable to hold much more than a light basket of bread and certainly little dexterity due to being heavily bandaged. As the week progressed, the swelling, bleeding and pain diminished and on Friday, the major bandages changed over to a large one that simply extends over the wound. I am now able to return to most things –slowly and carefully so as not to bump the large chunk of exposed flesh. So I move slow, take more time to observe and experience and allow others to take some of the burden off of my shoulders.

As I was supposed to have left Casale, new arrivals came. I helped in the way that I could and trained others in the ways of Casale and basic cooking skills. One of the new arrivals came from outside Milano – a spicy, little Italian woman who arrived by car. She was looking to explore the area and every day, we have ventured off for a few hours in exploration – Montechiello, Il Bagno di San Felipo – an amazing hot (warm) springs that stretched on for a long ways in a slow moving river. Adriana, my savior from the ER, took me to the Dr on Friday after lunch – a good check-up and all is healing well. Afterwards, we toured the local area in search of a pharmacy, the ever present gelato and then off to her boyfriend’s family estate – a four generation old olive oil and grape vineyard. From there, we went for happy hour and then to a Festa – a celebration of the community that was founded in the need to bring people together to learn about what is happening within politics. We had dinner, listened to Italian folk music and then back to Adriana’s to sample local aperitifs.


My last day at Casale was on Sunday – an amazingly quiet day. A welcomed change from the craziness of the last few weeks – we had a celebratory lunch in honor of Maria’s 66th birthday – with a beautiful apple tart and spumanti. Today I journeyed about 9 hours to the North – in the Piemonte region, close to Asti. I am at a small farm called Il Cucchio where their main crop is hazelnuts; they have been unable to harvest the last several days due to poor weather and have 7 volunteers standing by to help once the weather clears. The house is small and certainly at capacity, but it appears to be a great group of people with a wide array of Italian, French and English speakers. I have yet to learn if they produce any hazelnut products or if the focus is simply the nut. More soon . . . .

On my way

Sorry for the lack of postings - being with only 9 able fingers has slowed me down. Off to my next stop in the morning - hope to post more from there. http://www.ilcuccio.it/index.htm

Ciao!!

A very hard day

Yesterday was a hard day. It began simply enough – I was supposed to have left for my next stop, but had learned the day before that she would not be ready for me for another day. No problem – stay another day and leave the next day. I helped teach the new arrivals about the ways of Podere Il Casale – breakfast, watering the plants, setting up for lunch and that’s where it all began. I learned a new phrase in Italian yesterday – Ho fatto una battaglia con l’affettatrice e ho perso. If you speak Italian – I am ok. If you don’t keep reading and it will all make sense. We sliced tomatoes, cucumbers, melon and bread. We set the table for the 7 people joining us for lunch.

Sandra had left for the morning and had left instructions that the group wanted a light lunch of fruits, vegetables, bread and assorted prosciutto, salame, etc. I sliced the prosciutto, I sliced the salame and then discovered some small sausages and thought that they would look nice evenly sliced on the meat slicer. I cut about 10 pieces and then my hand slipped. With it, came a piece of my right index finger. I am OK! It was just big, lots of blood – no nerves, no tendons and no bone. Within 3 minutes, they had my in the car with Adriana, a girl who helps make cheese and speaks no English – she and I have established a rapport in the cheesery and have found a way to communicate using simple words. She raced through the Tuscan hills, getting behind a slow driver that I am sure was given some choice words – I was in a bit too much shock to really be concerned about idle conversation.

Within about 30 minutes I was at the ER – we arrived and there was no front desk, just closed doors, people waiting and signs that said do not enter. I saw a sign that said Triage and new that was likely the door to be entered, but Adriana took control and stood by the door waiting for someone to appear while I sat quietly controlling the bleeding. I heard many conversations that seemed to express concern about the lengthy wait, but no one spoke English and my Italian comprehension was in shut down. About 30 minutes after arriving, I saw a porter with lunch trays and though that seemed strange that they would be needed in the ER, but what do I know about the set-up of an Italian hospital. Another 30 minutes passed and the doors finally opened – admitting a man who had been waiting when we arrived. A short time later, Adrian ushered me in – where I presented ID and had the admitting nurse exam my blood soaked hand. I understood her say superficial and felt a sigh of relief – I was not feeling much pain and was unsure if that was shock or truly that it looked worse than it really was. After 15 minutes of awkwardly answering questions in Italian, I was sent to another room – I thought it might be an exam room, but soon learned that it was just another waiting room – quickly filling with people. About 20 minutes into this room, two girls entered that I had seen outside. One spoke a bit of English and we chatted in broken English/Italian to pass the time. Her friend teased in Italian that to resolve my issues that they would simply remove my finger. The bleeding had slowed and I was in a much calmer state and appreciated her lightening the mood.

About 2 hours after arriving, I decided to venture off to find a bathroom; on my return I passed a room with about 7 staff people inside – jovially enjoying their lunch. I returned to the waiting area and shared my findings with the others – no one seemed surprised in the slightest. Another 30 minutes went by as we watched staff members nonchalantly chatting in the halls; no one concerned about the people in pain waiting in the other room. Finally, they arrived and began to move people out. I waited, I waited, I waited – I watched everyone I recognized go away and new ones arrive. The bleeding appeared to have stopped; my pain was non –existent and I tried to explain to Adriana that maybe we should just leave and I could try and clean it up on my own. She resisted; I called Sandra and she explained that they wanted to give me a tetanus shot – something I had guessed was due. I knew that I had last had one 11 years ago and recalled that it might only be effective 10 years; unfortunately, I was unable to get anyone to understand my question. Finally, almost 4 hours after arriving, I was taken to an examining room. 5 people greeted me – no one spoke English. I prayed that the Dr might. A nurse with very kind and expressive eyes began examining and cleaning my finger – I could see that they were concerned, but that it did not appear critical. The pain was excruciating; every few minutes a different person came by and she would show them the wound – each time, the pain was intense – I lay there praying for them to be done; unsure what was being said. Adriana simply watched on, cringing every time they exposed the wound. The Dr finally arrived and he too did not speak English. I lay feebly on the table as they discussed my fate in words that had little meaning. He examined my finger; making me bend it while blood spurted about. Finally, they handed me a disclosure sheet in English about tetanus; which I happily agreed to – a fabulous shot in the butt to prevent getting a major infection. 5 hours after arrival, I was bandaged up and sent on my way without a clue of the prognosis. We arrived back at Podere Il Casale where Adriana rapidly explained the situation to Sandra and finally I found out that indeed all was ok. Rest and my arm in a sling for 4 days; pain meds if needed and back to the Dr in 4 days to check in and have my dressings changed. Adriana sweetly offered to take me to her Dr so I would not be subjected to another 5 hour ordeal. I will remain in Podere Il Casale for now – traveling with one hand out of use is just too much work and going to a place where I know no one seems daunting with my limitations.

I am now very skilled in use of my left hand – I can bring out food to the guests, clear plates and provided instruction to others on how to prepare a meal. I taught Donatella (a new arrival from near Milan) how to make bread and several simple dishes; her cutting skills need work and she is eager to learn. She also wants to improve her English and we have spent hours comparing nuances of Italian versus English. She arrived by car and has been a blessing – taking me to Pienza yesterday to get pain killers (and explore the town and of course have a gelatti). Today, we went to Montalcino – a great little hillside town famous for its Brunello wine – I sampled an amazing Brunello gelatti. Tomorrow, we hope to see Montichiello - there is supposed to be a nightly wine tasting under a church that is an amazing experience.

I have decided to find the silver lining in this all – slow down, relax and allow others to do their work. Now – I have little choice and am happy to be surrounded by some great people who are only too happy to help me in my lessons and to take some of the weight off my shoulders.

Montepulciano

An impromptu free day landed me in Montepulciano last week – a wonderful newly married couple from Germany gave me a lift and Evelyn shared her inside secrets learned whilst she was a student of music there years ago. I wandered the town without much background or an agenda – just simply wanting a day to soak up the beauty of an ancient town and its people. Montepulciano is a city that winds up the hillside – brick built buildings and cobble lined streets, with an underground city that lives just below. Walking up the hill, I visited both tourist oriented shops with leather goods, clothing, local foods and of course wine, but I also ventured into small shops for the locals – mini supermarkets built into 500 SF. I watched old ladies barter with the shopkeepers and the young girls working in the shops move quietly from shop to share gossip and a coffee or gelato.
In my day spent in Montepulciano, I began to see the Italian people from different light. Honestly, most of my time thus far has not been with Italians – Sandra and Ulisse are Swiss, transplanted to Italy 20 years ago. Their sons are a unique blend of Italian with a strong Swiss pride – clearly evident on August 1st in celebration of a major Swiss holiday with singing, flag waving a drinking of Swiss wine complete with a Swiss emblem on it. The visitors and other guests come from throughout Europe, North America and even South Africa and Australia. Many speak Italian – some with fluency and some in bits and pieces, many are appreciative of my ability to speak English. On occasion, we have Italian guests too – many do not speak English and my limited vocabulary does not make for scintillating conversation. There are two natives who I have begun to know – Massimo and Inez – both patient and kind in their ability to speak a broken conversation peppered with English, Italian and much pointing and gesturing. On this day, I was able to just be with Italians in their world.
I learned that the essence of Italy is a relaxed pace, with little reason to be concerned by a lack of organization or a lack of promptness. Italy is built on caffé – not a café as you and I know it, but rather the time honored tradition of taking a moment to enjoy a small shot of espresso – this is done after meals, on the way to an appointment, while awaiting a bus. Beautiful machines live in every shop, restaurant and café and even at the bus station. Un caffé is served in a porcelain demitasse cup, complete with a saucer and a real spoon to add the allotment of sugar as you see fit – pouring from a glass container and not a sterile, teaspoon size serving packet. There is not one “to-go” cup to be found – what is the point? The point of the caffé is to stop, to pause, to take a moment to breathe. It is not simply a tool to get caffeine in our bodies so that we can do more and see more; it is rather a way to pass in conversation with a random stranger or a friend – standing at a bar or sitting in a sidewalk cafe. Un caffé is the essence of Italy – beautifully rich with tradition, strong in flavor and occasions to enjoy them at every turn, for just no reason at all, other than its enjoyable and tastes great.

A hard day’s work . . . .

Working on a farm is tough – mornings start early and the days go long. This is the busy season and there is little time to rest and relax. Last night, Sandra told a story that I think captures it best – granted it was in French and Italian with a bit of English thrown in here and there, so I may not have the full picture. What she told was the story of the birth of her 5th son - she said the day was just as any typical day – up early, making breakfast for the guests, cleaning, taking out the garbage, checking in guests, ordering supplies, answering the many questions about cheese, the region and you name it, and then of course making lunch, making and serving dinner and cleaning up. Somewhere around 11pm, she decided it was finally time for the baby to come, she went upstairs to where her midwife was waiting, cleared the clothes and sleeping children off her bed and had the baby by midnight. The next morning, she was up at 6am to start working on breakfast and begin a new day. Sandra is an impressive woman – she is in a constant state of movement and never hesitates to stop what she is doing to make sure that someone else is taken care of. She is fluent in English, French, German, Swiss German and of course, Italian. My guess is that she has a few others in strong command for when the need arises. She is the essence of what makes this farm work – kindness, commitment and an amazing ability to be a chameleon to whatever comes up.

I am writing this during the day’s siesta – sitting on my deck overlooking the rolling hills of Tuscany and smelling the ever present smell of lavender brought in by a lovely breeze. I need these quiet times of reflection; I do not have Sandra’s ability to be hostess, cook and cleaning lady every second of the day. I have learned that I relish my time to be in stand-still, to be alone with my thoughts and allowing my body to be quiet and at peace. I think I used to have more of Sandra in me – always on the go and feelings of guilt when I was not productive. Today, I wish to let go of that person because unlike Sandra, I do not have the ability to be that person and be happy. That was part of the purpose of this trip – to find the me that exists without the trappings of expectation. To learn what is truly important and to find ways to bring that back with me when I return to the “real world”. For now, I will enjoy the moment; when I return, perhaps a whiff of lavender will bring me back when times get tough.

The food

This morning we fired up the wood burning oven and made pizza with a group from Holland. Massimo is amazing with pizza and turned out 40 or so in a few hours - topped with olives, mushrooms, artichokes, prosciutto, onions, basil, olive oil, sausage and of course pecorino fresca - a must at the farm. What a treat to work along side him and see him creating. Afterward, we put our bread inside - this time made with chestnut flour. The loaves are massive and beautiful.

Life on the farm has been great - meeting amazing people, both other workers and the guests. They are mostly from neighboring countries and Italy, but on occasion we have the rare American and a few folks from Australia & New Zealand. We had a pair of sisters from Australia - one owned a sheep farm with 3000 sheep, for wool, and the other owned an alligator farm with over 80,000. This is a rare breed and she sells the skin to Hermes for handbags that sell for about $50,000 and the meat goes to the Chinese community within Australia - prized for its healing qualities. She can't keep up with demand. What a business.

Tonight we had a group of 20 Italians come for dinner - they are always so festive with meals that last for hours. Dinner is always a multi-course affair with 3-6 antipasti (platters of sliced tomatoes with olives, feta or cukes; grilled eggplant with lemon juice and olive oil, thin sliced zucchini done raw with lemon juice and olive oil; often a farro (spelt) salad with capers, sun dried tomatoes, olives, veggies, etc; sometimes a lentil salad, melon with prosciutto, I have made Greek salad, bread soup (made with tomatoes, olive oil, stale bread) and panzanella ( a bread salad made like the bread soup) - it is the simple food of the peasant Tusancs. and of course, the home made bread - I have made at least 8 batches in the last 10 days - each one producing about 7 kilos of bread. wowsers. then its on to the primi - which is usually a pasta - I made pesto yesterday, sometimes we have it with tomato sauce, zucchini & olive oil, I made a batch of my ratatouille which was a big hit and have also made risotto; After that we have the secondo - the meat course - the meat will vary and some days we do not have meat, but it is typically meat from the animals on the farm - goat or lamb, once we had chicken; then we make some warm side dishes - garbanzos with rosemary, I made cannellini beans with sage, we make a lot of sauteed cabbage, I showed them how to make a great green bean dish with capers, sun dried tomatoes, onions and garlic. Its been fun that I have been able to introduce a few classic influenced Italian dishes that have been well received and have mixed things up a bit. And then there must be the cheese course - a selection of both goat and sheep and then we finish with the dolci - dessert. Its usually quite simple - Sandra makes a semolina flour cake with cocoa powder, I have made sorbet with some old peaches, I made a fruit salad with zablagione one night. then cafe or cappuccinos and grappa or vin santo. This is slow food at its finest - a celebration with every meal.

Siena - a day off

Yesterday I had a day off; a surprisingly needed day as the work of the farm is demanding and unrelenting. I took a bus to Siena to explore what is surely one of the nicest towns in Italy. It had not been on my original travel list, but after passing through on my way to Podere Il Casale, I decided that I had to return with more time and more energy. Siena is a winding town built into the hillside. It is a mason’s dream – built of stones and bricks and truly a city that must be explored by foot as there is something to see at every turn. Siena was built during medieval times and possesses much gothic art; it is imposing and beautiful all at the same time. On arrival in the city, started with one of my favorite activities in any city I visit – the supermercado. This one was located across from the train station and was truly there for the locals. I suppose I see the world through the eyes of food – what we eat and how we do it says so much about a culture. This one was beautiful – wonderful produce, an amazing deli with cured meats, many cheeses, olives and other cured vegetables; a lavish fish counter and smaller meat counter; and then aisles of pasta, aisles of tomato products and aisles of olive oil – the essence of Italy. I think like most places, we shop for convenience and Italy is no different – some may still shop at the markets and deal direct with the farmers and producers, but more and more, we gravitate to the store where we can buy it all.
On leaving the supermarket, I took a quick local bus to al centro – the main area of town. I followed the throb of tourists down a cobbled street noting beautiful shops with Tuscan artisanal foods, merino wool products, Italian pottery, gelati and of course fashion – Benetton, Versace and the like. Eventually, I arrived at the piazza - Il Campo – a grand square flanked by restaurants and a massive church. At one side is a fountain so typical of Italy – beautifully carved and unfortunately not available for enjoyment is it was barricaded. I spent a glorious hour in the square just enjoying the sun, reading and people watching. I watched two young girls – probably 2 and 4 – run after pigeons for at least 45 minutes – never tired and never quite catching these poor birds. At some point I decided that I had to find a shop for Panforte – a “fruitcake” that is the specialty of Siena. As I wandered to the shop, I noticed a crowd outside the church, all dressed in white and silver – I soon determined that it was a wedding party – awaiting the arrival of the bride and groom as they exited the church. They were all dressed to the 9’s and never seemed to express frustration or look worse for the wear as they stood in the blazing sun waiting for 45 minutes. Eventually the bridal party emerged – showered with rice (and waiting pigeons) . After snapping a few photos, I moved on to explore the streets.
My next stop was Il Duomo – a beautiful structure with black and white stripes everywhere – my descriptions cannot do justice and will have to await the accompanying photos. Finally, I realized that it was time for lunch and I wandered off in search of the perfect meal – on a back alley, slighty away from the touristy roads, I discovered a pizza shop that fit the bill and had a perfect slice with thin crust, a little tomato sauce, prosciutto, mushrooms and a touch of cheese. It was nice to sit and enjoy it after wandering the streets. Afterwards, I needed something to cool me down and finally had my first gelato – a beautiful lemon one that only made me want more. I decided, I would wander a bit before having another round and had a melon one that was good, but paled in comparison to the first. After 5 hours of wandering, I decided it was time to return home and had a lovely nap on the bus ride back. Of course, I arrived back to dinner – a boisterous affair for 25.

Il formaggio

I had a second chance to work with the cheese on Friday. This was after we did a cheese tasting for a large group of Germans on Thursday. The goat cheese (caprino) is made using a chevre culture – resulting in a soft creamy cheese that then goes through many different stages of development and processes.Of course, there is a fresh chevre and others that are aged; some are made in ash, with peperocini and wrapped in walnut leaves. The sheep cheese (pecorino), is made in a much firmer style – it is made as fresh (pecorino fresco), pecorino semistagionato (aged 30-30 days), pecorino stagionato (aged 60 + days), and then also made in ash, walnut leaves and in olive oil with peppercorns.
As Ulisse has explained, cheese making requires much love. Each cheese must be washed with a salt water solution every few days during the curing process. This is done by hand, scrubbing it with a wet cloth and then flipping it to allow it to evenly cure. Each cheese weighs two to 4 pounds and there are easily 300 cheeses in the active curing room; with an additional 500 or so in longer term storage which must be washed every week or so. It’s quite an impressive operation. We also make ricotta from the leftover whey of the sheep milk – producing 7-10 kilos with each production of cheese. At first glance, cheese making appears to be very scientific; you must measure moisture and acidity and must allow fairly precise amounts of time in between each stage of the process. In reality, cheese making is an art form – there are no absolutes and the cheese maker must use their intuition to arrive at the right result. It is a process that can only be learned by observing and participating for a long period of time; even then, some will not be suited for the life of the cheese maker.