All Hallow's Eve

All Saint's Day is a relatively big deal in this majority Catholic country. However, as more and more of the younger generations practice their religion less and less, such holidays become less observed. Nonetheless, some businesses are closed on November 1 as is the school we teach at. As an added benefit, since the holiday falls on a Tuesday this year the resident director decided not to have school on the preceeding Monday either, leading to a VERY long weekend. The day before All Saint's Day is All Hallow's Eve, Halloween for those of you in the know.

How do Italians celebrate Halloween? It would appear that they don't send their children door to door begging for candy from relative strangers. We have no Costco sized gargantubags of treats lining the shelves of shops. Still, it would appear from the shops that costumes are occasionally worn and some decoration takes place.  Below are pictures from some of the shops in the neighborhood. The middle one is intriguing. It is from a pastery shop. The sign on the right of the picture says 'Fave dei morti", beans of the dead! Any guesses?

Mure e Porte

Walls and doors. Viterbo is a walled city as it has been probably as long as it has existed. The archeological evidence suggests the Etruscans had stone city walls back when they lived on this piece of land 2400+ years ago. If a place was going to survive it needed some way to defend itself. In the case of some of the hill towns we have visited, natural defenses were augmented by manmade ones. Even though Viterbo is sometimes referred to as being on a hill, I don't see it. In fact, much of Viterbo is a valley. The current walls date back to the 13th century although they have been repaired and reconstructed numerous times since then. The wall varies in height from 25 to 50+ feet tall. One would presume it must have been all roughly the same height at some point or that would provide natural weaknesses in the defensive capabilities. Where you have walls, you also have doors. Viterbo has 13 of these doors which serve as natural points of reference. The two main doors or gates are Porta Romana (Roman Door) and Porta Fiorentina (Florence Door).

We live near Porta Romana, pictured below from outside the city. The main opening is over 25 feet tall with huge, green-painted, wooden doors. Automobile traffice is allowed through Porta Romana, but only one way - into the city. To the right of the picture you see a tower. There is evidence of a second tower on the left. On the right there is also a much smaller, pedestrian door beside the main gate. Many buildings are built right into the town wall. The wall to the right of the pedestrian gate is actually part of the Church of San Sisto. Above the gate is a statue of Santa Rosa, patron saint of the city and the city coat of arms. These are shown in more detail in the second picture.

The next gate to the left empties out into the parking lot where we normally park our car. It is Porta Leonardo. From the pictures below it is easy to see that it is a pedestrian only door. The entrance itself is wrapped by the walls of yet another church.

If you go in the other direction from Porta Romana, you come to Porta della Verita, shown below. This has a wooden gate which is only 15 feet or so tall. There is two way traffic through this single lane gate which is controlled by stop lights. To the left of the gate is a pedestrian gate, the interior of which was featured in my post on shabby chic. Just inside this gate is the dairy store we go to. The fruit and vegetable store is around the corner from that.

Pasta

One little word. It rivals pizza for immediately bringing to mind the cuisine of Italy. But what is this substance? The word translates literally as paste. But, you ain't seen pasta until you come to Italy. Sure, the supermarkets in the US have a decent selection. Or you think so until you see the entire aisle of dried pasta in a big supermarket. It isn't an exageration to say that there are hundreds of different pastas. In the US you buy spaghetti. Maybe they have thick and thin spaghetti. Oh my, what to do? Fear not, or perhaps you SHOULD be afraid. Here you buy it by the number. Different numbers are different, standard sizes. Hmm, am I feeling like spaghetti 3 tonight, or maybe spaghetti 6? Don't get started on the 35-40 different brands available. Some of you might have noticed the little adjective I slipped in there. Dried. Pasta is also sold fresh in as many varieties as it is dried. All of the stuffed pasta is either fresh or frozen. OK, so you made it through the pasta aisle and are ready for a topping. There is a restaurant in Viterbo, appropriately called Spaghetteria, that boasts over 300 different pasta sauces. Remember, as the name implies, they only serve spaghetti. So, take 100+ pastas, multiply by 300+ sauces and you have ... well, you have a lot of choices.

Here at Chez Turner, we don't take our pasta quite as seriously, but we are developing (or, I should say Amy is developing) a decent repertoir of really delicioius pasta dishes. We have perfected bucatini al amatriciana, a type of hollow, spaghetti-like pasta with a red sauce of guanciale and onion. Then there is the gnocchi gorgonzola and nocciola. A potato pasta with a sauce of fresh, soft gorgonzola, cream and toasted hazelnuts. Ask Maggie and Greg if this lives up to their expectations. This evening it was a variation on pasta carbonara, shown below. We used penne pasta with a sauce of guanciale, egg and a mix of parmesan and romano cheese. Still lots of things to explore. Don't you want to visit? What are you waiting for?

More from the Frutta e Verdura

As I mentioned a couple of days ago, with the coming of fall a whole new crop of unusual crops have hit our local fruit and veggie store. Many of them are things I have never heard of before. In some ways, that isn't unusual. I can go to the International Food Zone around the corner in Springfield and find dozens of South American and Asian root vegetables I have never heard of, let alone have any idea of how to prepare them or what they taste like. But for some reason, cultural bias I suppose, I feel like I should know what you can eat in Italy. After all, I've eaten in Italian restaurants all my life.

On to the most recent items. First is the miagawa. When Amy and I first noticed these in the store, Laura, the proprietress, noted our interest and immediately came over. She picked one up, peeled it open and offered it to us. Free of charge. That is the way it works once you have established a relationship. As she described it, it is a cross between a grapefruit and a clementine. It is picked and eaten anywhere from green to orange. When green, it definitely tastes grapefruit-like with a touch more sweet. When it is orange, it is definitely clementine-like but with a touch of pucker. We eat them regularly now and will continue to as long as they are in season or something else catches our fancy.

Next up is the carciofi or artichoke. These aren't really unusual at all. But, the timing is. Artichokes come into season in February so these are unusual. We still haven't bought any. We don't have a deep-fat fryer which is one of the preferred methods of cooking them.

Next is the mela cotonne, also called the pera cotonne. This translates as cotton apple or cotton pear. We found them growing on our walk down the Francigena and since the tree came over the fence and into the road it was perfectly legal to pick them. We shouldn't have bothered. Apparently we don't know the proper way to prepare them because they pretty much sucked.

Finally, there is the tapinambur. No real clue what these are, but Amy googled them and they are Jerusalem artichokes, kind of potato-like as long as you don't eat so much of them that the fiber flushes you out.

 

Nuances

OK, so I'm really not very good at speaking Italian. I'm getting better ... slowly, but my comprehension leaves a lot to be desired. One place that has me fairly flummoxed is the greeting. What do you say when you meet someone and when you leave? The guidebooks and phrase books would have one believe it is all cut and dried. Imagine my bemusement when I discovered it was not. There are variations and nuances. I'm just catching on to the fact that these subtleties exist - I have yet to figure out what they are.

According to the phrase book buongiorno = hello. You can't really go wrong saying it when you meet someone or walk into a store. Then again, it literally translates as good day. Good day is followed by buonasera, which is good evening. So, when does day become evening? Sometime in the afternoon. Depending on who you are talking to, as early as 4 pm and as late as, well ... never. Then there is the ubiquitous, ciao. But, ciao is quite familiar. Say it to the wrong person, such as someone older than you or someone who requires your respect, and you have made a potentially serious blunder. When does buongiorno become ciao? I really can't tell.

Well, you made it through the greeting phase, filled in all the stuff in between and now you are ready to leave. According to the phrase book, arrivederci is your choice. It really does translate as goodbye. But you can also head out the door with any of the hello greetings: buongiorno, buonasera, or even ciao. Italians don't just have a single aloha or shalom, they have 3 interchangable ones. Then the fun gets compounded with buona giornata, which is "HAVE a good day". The proprietor of a store might say that to you as you leave. Buonanotte, good night, is comparatively easy. You don't really say it when you are leaving as you would in English, even if it is night. Instead, think an Italian John Boy Walton and you pretty much have it ... Buonanotte, John Boy. Buonanotte, Erin. Of course, it is REALLY rude to just leave without saying ANYTHING, so I am currently stuck in the mode of picking something out of the air and accepting the puzzled stare I almost always get. The sad part is, even if I stay in Italy a lifetime I may never figure out the nuances which would have become culturally ingrained in me had I grown up speaking the language.

Ciao!

Fall in Italy

The seasons are slowly changing. The evidence is mounting that fall is here, from the dropping temperatures and raw wind to the changing of the produce at our local shop. The daylight hours are diminishing and this weekend we change back to standard time (a week ahead of those of you in the US). Even during our earlier trips, we were staring at vast, rolling fields of turned soil throughout Lazio, Umbria and Tuscany. The harvest of summer crops was completed and each of the little towns and cities held its festival in honor of whatever they produced. Grapes have been harvested and the new wine is pressed and beginning the process of becoming fit to drink. Strange and interesting fall produce has hit the local stores and been the subject of much musing and the occasional post.

One piece that has been missing is the changing of the leaves. Much of this area is farmed and the space within the city walls has little in the way of green and trees. You don't get the vast expanses of colorful display as oak vies with maple and birch to see who can provide the most memorable color. Now I have slightly more understanding why people come to New England in the fall to drive the countryside and gawk at leaves. Don't worry, they'll still be "leaf peepers" to me, but I empathize with them ever so slightly. We hope to see more color during our trip north over the upcoming long, holiday weekend, but it is entirely possible that the peak has already passed in the Dolomites, our weekend destination.

We are blessed in our location to have not one, but two garden spaces within view of our apartment. The garden out the rear of the apartment is actually quite unusual in both its size and uninterupted view into the distance. The vines and trees within the garden are just begining to change, so without further ado I present to you the red, yellow and peach of our garden.

Knockers

Minds out of the gutters. I'm talking about door knockers. On our travels Amy and I have noticed a wide variety of distinctive and unusual door knockers. Sometimes I take pictures. Here are a few.

From Orvieto. The first three are not really knockers. They are a nifty grouping of four different carved figures.

This is also from Orvieto and it is a knocker.

From the gate near the Piazza di Plebiscito in Viterbo.

This is a close-up of the door I featured in shabby chic. The knockers are shaped like hands.

This is one of the doors on the duomo at Viterbo. Look Ma, no knockers! (But it is a pretty cool door.)

Leonardo di Vinci, a.k.a. Fiumicino Airport, a.k.a. FCO

This morning we made our first airport run with guests. There are several possible routes to the airport. The information we have is that, on a Sunday, the best way to go is just to drop straight down to Rome on the Via Cassia and then take the Autostrada around the city and out to the airport. On days when the traffic is expected to be heavier, we have been told it is generally easier to head west and then drive south along the coast past Civitavecchia to the airport. This route is longer and has several tolls, but is much less traveled and you don't actually go any closer to Rome than the airport itself.

So, we headed out before dawn at 6 AM on the Via Cassia. I have mentioned this road before as it is the same one we took all the way to Siena last month. It loosely follows the path of a 2200+ year old Roman road headed north through Viterbo and beyond. As you leave Viterbo, it is NOT a major road. Quite the contrary, it is winding, narrow, two lane road (one lane each way) which snakes around through every little burg in the way. It presents interesting challenges in the pitch black, even with high beams and nerves of steel. After approximately 40 km, it widens into a four lane, divided road which then empties into the 6+ lane ring road around Rome. The entire trip is approximately 110 km each way with the 40 km bit near Viterbo taking the better part of half the time. Dropping off at the airport for departures is easier than picking up, since you don't need to find parking. You just find the correct terminal and pop people out of the vehicle. We said goodbye to Maggie and Greg around 7:30 and were back at home before 9 AM. No word yet on whether or not they actually got on a plane, but I suspect they did since they should have taken off hours ago.

A couple of observations about driving. First, Italians do have the concept of a merge. However, they don't really have the concept of a high-speed merging lane. You get the universal, red and white, triangular sign and then a 100 foot entrance to accelerate and get into the row of traffic moving by at 110 kph (68 mph). Hmmm ... an Opel Astra Wagon carrying four fat Americans just don't got that much giddy up. Second, speed limits don't really mean that much to most Italians. The four-lane divided highway we were on has a posted speed limit of 90 kph. At one point I was driving 100 kph (yes, I admit I was speeding) while overtaking a little tiny town car going maybe 65 kph while a BMW was barreling down on me from behind flashing its lights doing at least 140-150 kph. Did I mention it was only a two lane road? For those of you keeping track, that is a speed difference of 75-85 kph (which translates to basically 50 miles per hour) between fastest and slowest thing on the road. Nerves of steel, baby. I'm telling you, nerves of steel.

Est, until tomorrow

We ate: lots of yummy food. We saw: beautiful stuff that looks fake but isn't. We walked: on ancient cobbled lanes.

Food:
pasta unlike at home - the noodles alone are excellent chewy morsels
pig cheeks - think bacon minus the fat, the best
wild boar - pork with just a twist of something wild
Aqua di Nepi - Amy has finally made me a bottled water snob
fruits - they actually have flavor
chestnuts - creamy nutty fresh
porcini - imagine tasting what forests look like
pizza - potato and rosemany or lemon, can't decide which is best
soups - to die for
and of course
GELATO - all great

Sights:
Bagnoregio - think tiny, think old, think hill town. All Amy & Wa said in their blog about this treasure times two.

Orvieto - the cathedral is beyond words.Once again, read the existing blog entry. Excellent shopping. Good food. Horrible maps. Maybe they never want you to leave which is just fine but I'd still like to find my wonderful little apartment in less than two hours. Both of us got lost. Over. And over. And over...
Viterbo - good maps. Kind friendly people, both Viterbese and SYA friends, a wide variety of shops, restaurants, interesting churches. In all a very livable, likeable city.

Walking:
Just walking anywhere is a satisfying experience. The architecture is varied from Medieval to stylishly modern Italian. Every turn of the lane brings a new sight of bright flower boxes, crazily angled buildings, oddball doors and windows, stairs to baconies with intricate lacy wrought iron, or a lush garden.
Greg took on a walk from Montefiascone back to Viterbo on the pilgrims' path, portions of which are on surviving segments of the original Roman road.

 The path winds across the countryside for about twenty kilometers and affords beautiful views and aromas. Greg was joined by Carolyn H-P and two friends visiting her from France.

Perfect hosting. Perfect weather. We'll be back, soon.

Arrivederci.

ps: Amy will explain "Est! Est! Est!"

Castagna

Sorry to have been so remiss in posting. The hustle and bustle of guests added to our normal routine has made for a busy time. Today is Maggie and Greg's final full day with us; we transport them to the airport before the crack of dawn tomorrow for an early AM flight.

Now, castagna is not the name of another romantic, walled, hilltop town in the region although it certainly sounds as though it could be. Castagna are chestnuts. One benefit of always shopping our local fruit and vegetable store is that they pretty much only stock local products and they pretty much only stock seasonally. There are a few exceptions. Bananas from Ecuador are available year round as is a very limited variety of citrus which is imported from places like Israel until it comes in regionally and the selection explodes. Several weeks ago Amy and I noted the arrival of chestnuts. Big baskets of nuts just like the ones you pick up on the ground at various places in New England are sold for a bit more than $3.00 a pound. We didn't buy any as they are sold raw and we had no idea how to deal with them. Then, last weekend when Maggie, Greg and Amy went exploring, they ran across a small "Chestnut Festival" in Bagnoreggio. After an elaborate production apparently involving much signing of paper (fortunately, Maggie and Greg have no first born to mistakenly sign away), Greg was able to procure some which were eaten by all present.

Last night we went out to another of our local enoteca for what is becoming a traditional Friday after work gathering. The Italians have really taken to TGIF (TGIV, mixing Italian and English). In fact, they are willing to add an M, T, or whatever to the end and celebrate pretty much whenever! We learned the hard way that the mixed antipasti served with the aperativo is pretty much all we need to eat to call it a very satisfactory dinner meal. One of the main staples of last night's antipasti were roasted chestnuts so I was able to experience them for the first time. They arrive piping hot and ruptured from the cooking process. You peel off the thin shell and brush off a paper-like covering then pop them in your mouth. They are much easier to get into than a walnut, pecan, etc. and are sweet and chewy. They remind me in some ways of peeling an acorn, only acorns are bitter if you ever eat one. I'm still not sure if it is worth trying to prepare chestnuts at home or even how one would go about it, but they were an interesting treat when combined with olives, breads, mini-sandwiches, and wine.

Visitors

As you may have been able to tell from yesterday's guest post, the first of what we hope will be many visitors have arrived. Maggie and Greg flew in to Rome very early Friday morning from Springfield on an overnight flight. They came in so early that, even though Friday's are a day when Amy and I have a very light teaching schedule (I am done at 9 and Amy is done at 10) we were unable to test out our airport pick-up service. I was relieved and impressed that they were able to negotiate the purchase of tickets, the double train run and the location of our house all from the written instructions that Amy provided. They arrived at our door and were warmly welcomed around lunch time.

To say Amy was excited to see them is an understatement. Well, I'm not sure how much of her excitement was actually aimed toward Greg (sorry Greg, no offense intended). Amy whisked Maggie away leaving Greg and I to fend for ourselves at the Mensa. The rest of Friday and all of Saturday was a whirlwind of activity. Amy is so eager to show Maggie all of the fun and interesting things which we have discovered that she has barely slowed down except to sleep. We have already been to several of our favorite restaurants and gelaterias as well as taken an afternoon drive around the countryside. The positive side is that the forced activity has helped keep Maggie and Greg on the path toward getting over their jet lag. On a side note, it is actually kind of interesting watching somebody make the time difference transition to Europe while you are not going through it yourself.

Est! Est! Est!

Aka "This is it." We're here, finally. Greg & I arrived yesterday after car, plane, plane, train, train & foot. No sleep in two days rewarded by happy hugs by Amy & Warren followed by THEM carrying our bags up the marble stairs to their fabulous apartment. Most fascinating was the wide variety of terrazzo floors, a veritable patchwork of speckled glory. Our bedroom looks over a jungle with birds carrying on as if they were frat boys on spring break. We split up for lunch & Amy & I go to a cave like restaurant, The Etruscan Tavern, run by two brothers with adventurous gastronomical tastes. Their Lemon Pizza sounds strange but I am in ecstasy.  Who'd 'a thought? After stumbling home we were finally, after much foolishness from Amy, allowed to sleep.

After a rather romantic supper at The Convivium on the unfortunately named Plaza of Death, we strolled home but not before revisiting The Etruscan Tavern for some inventively devised gelato: chocolate with mango tea, chestnut, pistachio, and your basic chocolate. Bed was wonderful since Greg & I could actually touch each other without having to maneuver around beagles.

Next day started with local fruit, cheese, baked goods and yogurt. Off we go to the Saturday market and daylight views of Viterbo while actually alert and awake this time. Amy teasingly calls this place "a dump". Instead every view looks like a tourist advertisement. There is an large and well preserved medieval area which is much akin to a maze. The shops seem rather high end and tasteful. Plazas and fountains abound. Everywhere you turn are wonderful carvings, terracotta, wrought iron, tall towers,... We passed an external pulpit where St. Thomas Aquinas once spoke. The market was lively and Greg bought me a beautiful scarf so I could appear truly Viterbese. It is apparently required that all residents wear a scarf casually wound around their necks. At  home we had another excellent meal of local foods to fortify us for our afternoon.

Off to the nearby town of Montefiascone we go. Above Lake Bolsena Amy, Warren, and Greg take a walk from the hill down toward the caldera and the cemetery which Wa wrote about earlier. Because of my arthritis, I guarded the car (ok, so I took a nap). At the top of Montefiascone, perched atop a very high hill, we walked through the tiny streets and multitudinous stairs to the duomo named for me, Saint Margherita. Do you know about her? She was eaten by a dragon while gripping her cross. Said cross scratched the insides of poor Mr. Dragon. He got cross and puked her up. Is Saint Margherita the patron saint of over indulgers and flu sufferers? According to the statue, the dragon, who looks like a cross between an alligator and my beagle Mr. Lucky, fell in love with her. He looked all mooney at her. Next stop was the ancient springs, very hot, with lots of people lounging about convivially in bikinis, no matter what their shape. Oh and of course there were ancient Roman and Etruscan ruins nearby. Tonight promises good cooking from Amy. I'm sure glad she didn't mean anything by greeting us yesterday with pamphets from local inns.
Tune in tomorrow and I'll tell you all about that "est, est, est" stuff.

Poste Italiane

Living in Italy is different than living in the United States. The program we are part of encourages us to avoid value judgements - the US is better, Italy is better. Instead, we attempt to not just notice the differences, but to embrace them. For the most part, we have been largely successful at doing this with one glaring exception. The postal system in Italy is really, really bad. There, I said it. Something about Italy is less than perfect and the US has it beat, hands down.

To mail an item from Italy, you really don't want to go to the actual post office. The wait can easily be an hour or more. Instead, you buy your stamps at a tabacchi. The tabacchi sells a wide range of things from official seals and stamps to tobacco products along with prepaid calling cards, bus tickets and everything in between. We even paid our car tax at a tabacchi. The cost of mailing things is high and it is far from clear whether or not anyone actually knows how much it costs to send a piece of mail. If you take the same letter or postcard to 3 different shops, you are likely to end up being told 3 different amounts for postage. It might even be due to the types and denominations of stamps they physically have on hand. It is all extremely mysterious. We have only sent one outgoing package and it did eventually reach its destination, so I must conclude things do function at some level.

To mail an item to Italy from the United States is equally enigmatic. As a former eBay seller, I can state without hesitation that Italy has one of the highest loss rates of any country in the world, rivaling that of China and Russia, a couple of the other worst-in-the-world places to send mail to. The cynic in me suspects that Italian postal workers supplement their livelihood by appropriating anything they are interested in that passes through their hands. After losing 3 out of 4 packages sent to Italy I absolutely refused to do business with customers living in Italy. I couldn't afford the loses that were mounting up when refunds were demanded and I was out both the money and the merchandise. Now that we are living here I can say, if you want to send us a postcard or something of little value in a letter-sized envelope, feel free. It will probably eventually make it to us. If you want to send us a care package, DO NOT DO IT!!!! The one package which was sent to us finally arrived yesterday. The first time it was sent out it was returned as undeliverable by the Italian post office even though it was properly addressed. They might not have even bothered to attempt delivery since we use the school address for mail and someone is always there during mail delivery hours. The box made it through on the second attempt after 11 days and ended up split and open. Fortunately, as far as we can tell, nothing was lost or stolen. The other nastiness is that Italy has seriously clamped down on charging duty and customs fees on anything not originating in the euro region. Students routinely get packages delivered from home which have a declared value of $75 and end up paying a duty/customs fee of 25 euros or more. That is in excess of 50% of the value of the items. In other words, if you see a nice present you want us to have and it costs you $30 dollars to buy and another $25-50 to send to us, when we get it we will likely pay a customs fee of $15 or more which, between postage and fees, more than doubles the original cost of the item. Save us all a headache. Either send us the cash or just tell us about that you were thinking of us. Better yet, buy the item and bring it with you when you come to visit us in Italy!

Via Francigena (an 11 mile walk!)

On Sunday, in honor of our friend Keith's impending Monday birthday, we boarded a Co.Tra.L. bus near the Ipercoop and headed to the next town north, Montefiascone, for a walk back through time on the Via Francigena. The Via Francigena is a 1000+ mile long pilgrimage route from Canterbury, England to Rome. The basic route has been in existence for at least 1000 years although it has changed path and morphed over time due to regional conflicts, etc. It is interesting because, as a pilgrimage route, it was less concerned with going through particular major cities and more concerned with hitting important shrines, churches and abbeys along the way. In a happy coincidence for us, it happens to pass directly through Viterbo!

Upon arrival in Montefiascone we disembarqued and headed into the historic centro. The weather was cool and brisk, the first fall-like weekend we have had since we arrived. We stopped briefly for coffee and then again for a peek around the Duomo, also known as the Cattedrale di Santa Margherita di Montefiascone. It has a marvelous, domed ceiling that warranted a few pictures.

We next headed to the southeastern edge of town for a spectacular view of Lago di Bolsena before picking up the trail and plunging over the side of the mountain. We chose wisely. Going south toward Viterbo was almost all downhill. To have walked the other direction wuld have been strenuous, to say the least. Much of the path was actually on dirt roads through the countryside. That was quite nice, but the real treat came on the occasional section where the dirt road diverged and all of the sudden you were walking on an ancient Roman road (yup, original stones and all) through a canopy of trees with nothing to see to the sides except plowed fields and the occasional building. At that point it was easy to imagine exactly what the trip would have been like 7, 8, 900 years ago. We stopped for a picnic lunch and a bottle of wine at a hot spring in the middle of nowhere. We completed our walk with a strong tailwind to move us along and threatening storm clouds behing us to further hasten our steps. Ultimately all of the nastiness went to our east and we ended up back at the bus station dry, tired and content.

Cerveteri

On Friday we boarded a double-decker bus and headed to Cerveteri to explore the world of the Etruscans. Cerveteri is near the coast, approximately 3/4 of the way to Fiumicino Airport if you take the coastal route to get there. The Etruscans settled the region during approximately 800 BC and remained there for roughly 700 years. They had a written language although very little of it is preserved. Most of what we know about them comes from primary source material written by the Romans and others who wrote about them contemporaneously. One lasting mark they made on the countryside are their necropoli or "cities of the dead". The funerary inscriptions on their tombs provide all of the existing written materials in the Etruscan language.

The first portion of the excursion was a visit to the Etruscan Museum in a medieval castle in the center of Cerveteri. The museum has an interesting collection of artifacts taken from the tombs during archeological excavations. Over the centuries, most of the tombs have been disturbed in some way, but there are 1000's of tombs in the necropolis so there is still a great deal of research to be done. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on your view, much of the best material has been removed. The best of the best pieces reside in the Vatican Museum since the popes had claim over all of the region for many centuries. Much of the remaining better material is in the National Museum of the Etruscans in Rome. Still, even what is present in Cerveteri provides an interesting glimpse of Etruscan life.

The city of the dead, the Necropli della Banditaccia, is on the outskirts of town. It is huge with only a small portion of it open for public viewing. The approach through the countryside is by a long road, lined on both sides by characteristic umbrella pines. The necropolis itself is aranged like a small city. There are tombs spanning the entire range of Etruscan Civilization. The most interesting to look at are the mounds. Tombs were cut into the rock and then these giant mounds were raised over them. The largest are around 30 yards across and extend 20 feet above the ground. The tombs themselves can be another 20 or 30 feet below grade. These particular tombs are shaped like the inside of small houses with interesting details such as ceiling beams and beds carved out of the stone. The tombs would have originally been painted and all of the items necessary for daily life would have been buried with the occupants. The necropolis at Cerveteri is a UNESCO World Heritage Site along with the necropolis at Tarquinia. Many of the tombs at Tarquinia have their original painting, but there is only one like that on display at Cerveteri. The advantage to that is that at Cerveteri they allow visitors to roam pretty much at will through any of the tombs while at Tarquinia the tombs are sealed to preserve the interiors and can only be viewed from afar through glass.

Gluttony, thy name is Warren (and Amy)

Yesterday we went on a trip to Cerveteri to explore the remnants of the Etruscan culture which dominated this region of Italy some 2700 years ago. This is a trip that Amy makes every time she travels to Italy with students, so she is very familiar with the area. While everybody else was spending their euros getting pizza and panini in town, we headed to a little, out of the way restaurant just off of the road which leads to the necropolis. Several dogs greeted us at the gate and the proprietor was waiting for us at the restaurant door. The five of us in our group were the only customers for the entire two hours we were there. We began with a liter of white wine produced by our host. It was a very light, crisp, unoaked chardonnay. We ordered antipasto for five and were served six large platters of food: mozzarella, prosciutto, batter fried vegetables, roasted vegetables, toasted bread with olive oil and bruschetta. That would have been more than enough, but we had already ordered our pasta dish. Each of us had a plate of pasta with a pesto-like sauce made out of local herbs and mushrooms. Several people had coffee and then a glass of digestivo made the rounds. Again, it was a locally produced, herb liquor based on anise which tasted somewhat like sambuca. Completely sated we waddled to the archeological site and rejoined our group.

As if one extremely filling, multi-course meal in a day wasn't enough, one of our friends had invited us to a dinner party that evening. It was a lovely affair. When we arrived we were greeted by a large coffee table laden with all forms of antipasto. This time it leaned toward the cheeses and meats with the addition of little sandwhiches and rolls she had baked herself. Several kinds of pecorino, a mozarrella and a very nicely aged parmesan were joined by sausages and wine. We adjourned to the table where we began with a primo of pasta with roasted pistachios. This was followed by a pork-based, stew-like secondo accompanied by sides of tomatoes and beans, a carrot cassarole and an artichoke cassarole. Dolce was individually prepared ramkins of chocolate souffle topped by homemade whipped cream. Everything was capped off by coffee for whomever desired it and liquors as a digestivo. The company and conversation were wonderful and the food magnificent. I am hard pressed to identify a more wonderful and satisfying culinary day. It is one which will be difficult to duplicate, assuming Amy and I would ever want to try.

It's Officially Official

After what seems like months, because it has been months, Amy and I picked up our Permesso di Soggiorno Elettronico from the Questura this afternoon. Now we are legally in Italy for the duration of our time in Viterbo!

It Takes Two ...

... to tango. Or so the saying goes. Last night Amy and I renewed our off again, on again affair with tango lessons. This time we did it Italian style. The Arabesque Academy Dance is quite literally around the corner from us, just off Via Vetulonia.

As the name suggests, they are a ballet school, but they offer lessons in many different styles of dance including our favorite, the Tango Argentina. Signing up for lessons is an interesting process. You don't just walk through the door and plunk your money on the counter. Well, actually you do, but there is more to it than that. First you must get a certifico medico for which you must visit a doctor. Rather than just signing a waiver saying you are in good health, you must get a doctor's note saying the same thing.

Our trip to the doctor took place on Monday. In principle, in order to establish yourself as a patient you must pay a 50 euro, non-reimburseable fee. Once you have done that, all future doctor visits are covered. Amy went earlier to have her prescriptions transferred and didn't pay the fee. This time we didn't even see the doctor. In fact, I have never laid eyes on him even though he has certified me as healthy and good to go. We walked in and were handed a sealed envelope by the receptionist containing the necessary documents. No money was involved. It appears that the doctor waives the fee for the American faculty at the school. That makes some sense given that the school brings him 50-60 new students a year for whom the most care they will need is a flu shot, treatment for digestional tract upset and caring for the occasional sprain or broken bone. He makes out well in the exchange. So, last night, armed with our medical certificates we headed to the dance studio.

Once there, we had to pay an annual fee to join the studio. This amounts to a fee to cover fixed costs such as insurance. At 30 euros each, it isn't cheap unless you plan on dancing often and spreading the cost out over many visits. Then you pay for the lessons themselves. In this case, tango meets once a week so the cost was 80 euros per couple for a month of lessons. Considerably lighter in the wallet, we made our way to the dance floor.

The dancing itself was enjoyable. There were approximately 30 people on the floor, paired up roughly equally with a few extra women, and a pair of instructors. We were greeted warmly by several people when we arrived and it was clear that everybody was there to have a good time. Abilities ranged from absolute beginner to essentially intermediate. After we got our bearings we were closer to the top in terms of experience than to the bottom. Language was more of an issue for me than for Amy. I was basically watching what was happening and trying to copy it, relying somewhat on our previous experiences. However, even I know "bravo" which was all the instructor said to me as I practiced my moves under his watchful eye and then danced him around the floor. Amy was a little more flustered, but by the end we were just dancing with each other and remembering some of the things we used to do. We will clearly go back, even beyond the month of October which we have already paid for. As we were leaving the female instructor overheard us speaking English and bubbled over to apologize for not having given any instruction in English. Apparently she is trying to learn enough of the language to be an effective instructor in English so she welcomes the opportunity to practice and will try to do some of that next week.

Shabby Chic

When buildings have been around for potentially thousands of years there is the tendency to look the other way over minor esthetic issues. Don't tell that to our anonymous neighbor in Springfield who turned us in a number of years ago for having peeling paint on our porch.  In fact, the crumbling bricks, peeling stucco and other flaws add to the romance and appeal of Italy. In a very real sense, Italians have cultivated the art of shabby chic. It almost reminds me of the faux clothing line in the movie Zoolander, called Derelict. When the sun is shining just right on a pile of thousand year old rubble that used to be a dwelling in the middle of a field, it just screams to have its picture taken.

Amy and I recently toured our fair city, Viterbo, camera in hand, taking pictures of things that appealed to us.
Examples abound of plants growing from walls and on top of roofs, such as this one of a fig plant.

The plants below are growing from a wall on our street that separates a garden area from the street proper. Notice also the peeling stucco in the lower right of the picture.

Which brings us to an entire class of art, the peeling stucco, exemplified by the pedestrian entrance at Porta Veritas, shown below.

Below we have the three stage stucco peel: reasonably maintained and painted stucco on the left, full rocks exposed with mortar missing in the middle and repointed rocks on the right. If you look closely, you will also see that all of the window openings have actually been bricked up on the inside, but the glass and deteriorating wooden sashes have been left with no way to get to them to maintain them.

Then there is the art of graffiti. The ancient Romans had this perfected. The advent of spray paint dumbed down the "art" in all but a few cases. There actually isn't that much graffiti in Viterbo. The picture below has a message to "eat vegetarian" on the side of a specialty meat store. The item between the windows is actually a beautiful bronze plaque of a calf suckling a cow.

Examples of decades old, peeling paint can also be readily found. I'm sorry whoever turned me in, the door pictured below has my porch columns beat by a long shot. Note the cool knockers shaped like hands.

Finally we have the completely missing wall. This is actually a picture taken near the duomo of a section of the original Etruscan walls that date from 2500 years ago or more. Viterbo is truly an ancient city.

That does it for now, but look for more photos as we find other interesting shabby chic items that catch the eye.