ONLY ME: Part 2

The Germans have left, all 36 of them ( so I was off by one). I was literally crowded out of my seat for internet last night!!! So picking up where I left off, the room, refer to pictures below

kind of like the hotel card keys except a " very high tech" Greek version

the teeny weeny safe

I basically threw my stuff in the room and headed downstairs to find out how to get into town and was told there was a bus, but the schedule wasn't regular. It was however in my budget at 1.60 E. The receptionist told me there was a kiosk 100 meters to the left on the road where I could get a ticket.

I walked over to the kiosk which was like a rustic 7-11 in a hut. The guy who worked there was about my age  but super weather worn but kind of cute in a Greek earthy kind of way. I now know his name is Elias because today when i was attempting to wait for the bus which did not come, he has asked me out for Saturday night to hear Greek music, I told him I'd think about it, didn't want to be rude. I also know now that the little white dog he has is named Ilam. She is 5 which I was informed is 29 in dog years and has had 4 litters of 4 puppies each, 16 in total which makes her like the Duggar of dogs and it's no wonder that pup looks exhausted!

I bought a bus ticket and a chapstick which basically came to the 5 E I had left. After I paid he said," From where did you come?" Kind of a difficult question to answer these days so I just pointed to the direction of the hotel and said there. He asked could I do something for him and for me to wait and then he bent down behind the counter and arose holding an old plastic coca cola glass. The kind that was bulbess at the top and tapered down bottom with the raised coca cola writing in script . He handed it to me. Now normally this would be odd, but this is me so perfectly usual I guess. I took the glass and he said," Over there, across the street see that guy?  His name is Nick, Bring this to him and tell him thank you". I looked around for the hidden camera because even for me now weird so I was sure there was one, but there was not. So I said ok, and I walked across the street handed the glass to Nick, pointed at the kiosk and said, " That guy says thanks".

I spent the next 4 hours writing yesterdays blog, catching up on Facebook, uploading pictures during which time I had a delic Greek dinner from the restaurant at my hotel.

So after a horrible night sleep in an uncomfortable bed, but more so because those loud Germans were up and yelling at 5 am, the icky bathroom and 3km distance from town (which I walked today) I have decided to book 5 more nights here, the remainder until I leave. Why? Because today when I went downstairs I was greeted by a great breakfast, the staff is amazingly hospitable and right across the road is this, where TWO cute waiters bring me my iced tea. I can live with that :)





ONLY ME!

I have been a blogger slacker, I know, but life has been busy, internet precarious and traveling an abnormal amount. That said, nothing like a day like today to get back in the saddle. Oh, and it's gonna be a long winded one.

For the past 3 weeks I have been sailing aboard the Oceania Marina for work. It's really a great gig, I get to see awesome places, meet great people while selling my jewelry. Today I disembarked 3 days early from the end of the cruise in Agios Nikolas, Crete a small and somewhat sleepy port town. I will stay here for a week awaiting the sister ship Nautica for the last of three scheduled trunk shows. I pick that ship up 4 days in. Why Crete? Well it was the only overlapping EU port where I could switch ships and because I am traveling with a ridiculous amount of jewelry an EU port makes customs a whole lot easier.

I woke up early to meet with the boutiques manager for last minute paperwork, do my laundry and finish packing. I'm always a bit sad to go after spending weeks on a ship, I start to feel like Eloise. After saying my goodbyes and retrieving my passport I disembarked with THREE huge pieces of luggage, one of which holds about 800 pieces of jewelry. I had stopped at the concierge to have a taxi waiting for me. Finally off the ship and there sits a silver sedan, the taxi and as I approach I say Faedra Hotel.  He replies, " No, airport! And I say, " No, no airport, Faedra hotel" at which point he starts shouting something in Greek and the port agent, a stocky old Greek guy with a walkie talkie comes over. He asks if I'm Mrs. Vandekamp ( and I'm thinking Bree from Desperate Housewives?) and I say no and he says that the taxi is not for me. Soooooo I ask if I can get a taxi and he replies, "No, No taxis, there is a strike today".

My face just fell! Are you freakin kidding me????? I live in the land of strikes! and although I knew there had been taxi strikes in Athens I did not expect it in Crete! There was no strike in Crete yesterday and maybe won't be tomorrow but TODAY, the day I stand there with THREE ginormous luggages and no way to get to the hotel there is a taxi strike. Maybe I could walk if I had only 2, but with three, UGH! After a half hour of arguing I ask the guy, " Listen, don't you have a friend with a car who can give me a ride? I'll give them 20 Euro for a ride to the hotel". Well money talks and it especially talks in an economy on the verge of collapse! He makes a call and tells me to wait that someone is coming right away. Well it seems the Greek schedule is a close cousin to the Italian schedule where right away = 1 hr. and 20 minutes.

                                       Mean Airport taxi guy
About an hour and a half later I see a 5'2", 80 year old Greek guy with like 4 teeth and literally covered in grease in 6 day old clothing approach saying car, car, car. OMG is that my taxi??? Why yes it is! With his dirty fingers he grabs the handle to bag # 1 and I motion that i've got the other 2 and I follow him to a beat up miscellanous gold colored ( I think, was hard to tell through the dirt) 1970's type of hatchback with a mini ships steering wheel propped up in the hatch. No kidding, the guy did call a friend, some mechanic I'm guessing. He was very sweet, hurled my bags in and opened the passenger door where there was a dirty, greasy striped towel that covered the seat. all I could think of is why were there TWO eggs, one brown and one white next to the stick shift? Were they hard boiled? Was it his lunch? Were they lucky tokens and why were they just sitting there next to 2 lighters?? And as I sat on the greasy towel, in the greasy car, next to the greasy nice old man I thought, ONLY ME!

Through the town and up the hills the man drives along all the while mumbling in Greek under his breath with an occassional 4 toothed smile at me. As we drive and drive and head out of the town I'm thinking where the fuck is he going????? Expedia said IN TOWN! But no, it's definitely not in town and after 3 phone calls, 1 to the police station to get the number for tourist board, 1 to the tourist board to get number for hotel and 1 to the hotel (after each he smiles) we arrive at the Faedra hotel, most definitely NOT in town, in fact 3 km outside of town, which makes me think how happy I am I didn't attempt to walk!

There I am on the side of the road with my luggage in a tiny beach town in bumfuck Crete. I drag my stuff to reception where I am greeted by the very nice but 5 toothed receptionist, there either must be no flouride in the water OR she is related to the taxi driver/ slash friend of the port agent. While checking in I ask about the internet in the room (like it said on Expedia) but there isn't any only in the lobby and pool area. I ask about an ATM, there isn't any only in town. So now I am stuck a 20 minute drive from town with 20 Israeli sheckles, 10 Britsih pounds, 4 Us dollars ,30 Krona and 5 Euro and no ATM and a taxi strike. To make matters worse I am in desperate need of lip balm as I am getting a horrific cold sore.

She shows me to my room, 2 flights up, just can't catch a break when it comes to stairs and luggage. There it is the small old dingy room with the most uncomfortable looking beds ever! I immediately begin longing for my stateroom on Marina, with a heavenly bed, huge plasma tv with english stations and a veranda and chocolates on my pillow. I drift back to my new reality only to find the in room safe which needs to hold a good amount of my jewelry is only big anough for a toothbrush ( which btw I do not want to put in that bathroom.

To be continued in next post due to a 35 member German family who has just surrounded my little poolside table,  no joke.

For the love of God! Dimmi in Italiano!!!

A girl walks into a tabacchi and asks," Vendete i biglietti del bus?" The guy behind the counter replies, " one way or return and how many do you want?" REALLY!!!!!!! REALLY???????

And so is my daily frustration with the Italians answering me in English, and it PISSES ME OFF!

I spent 8 months 3 years ago taking Italian classes at Giorgio La Pira language school. I spent 4 days a week, 2 hours a day learning 96 different conjugations for the verb fare ( to make). Is my Italian great? NO, is my Italian super crappy, NO, it's marginal, marginal Italian with a new york accent. BUT I TRY!!! And I just want for when I speak to someone in Italian , in Italy, that they do not answer me in English. I have found that at least in large cities where English is pretty widely spoken ( especially in Florence) this is a losing battle.

So a few weeks ago I found myself at the new Hard Rock Cafe in Piazza Repubblica. I know a lot of expats roll their eyes at the thought of a Hard Rock in their beautiful adopted city of Florence but I like it, and I'm not embarrassed to say so. In fact I'll go so far as to say I wish they had a STARBUCKS!!! Oh, the blasphemy! You know who else loves the Hard Rock, it's fruity drinks and fattening fried appetizer platters? The Italians! I have been there a few times now and it's always packed with locals.

Anyway, I met my friend Laura there for an afternoon of yummy cocktails, we sat at the bar and ordered our mixed appy plate and a couple of drinks. Laura , who is super fluent in Italian ordered and the bartender answered her in Italian. HOWEVER, anytime I spoke to him he answered me in English, as did the hostess and any and every waiter. Although this was not a new experience to me on this day it was getting my panties in a bunch so I decided it was time to find a way to get these Italians to speak to me in their language.

love the scrip in Italian- Impazzirai ( will drive you CRAZY!!)

I told Laura that even when the Italians answered me in English I would ( if I could) still answer them in Italian. So I tried that for the next hour, no surprise, it did not work. Still, English responses.

PLAN B: Call them out

Me: ( Pointing to my drink)  Scusa, posso avere un altro?

Waiter: Yes, would you like the same thing?

Me: Dude! why do you do that??

Waiter: Do what?

Me: Always answer me in English!

Waiter: Because you are American, no?

Me: Yeah, but I'm in Italy! I'm living in Italy! I speak to you in Italian and still you answer me in English! It's rude! I try , I really try to speak your language, and still I'm replied to in English, and it's rude!

Yeah, well I pretty much scared the shit out of that poor waiter, he was the unfortunate soul to catch the wrath of my 3 year language gripe. He apologized up and down and explained he likes speaking English, wants to practice his English. Well buddy, I like Italian, and I want to practice my Italian which is nearly IMPOSSIBLE because the Italians will only speak to me in English!

Now I have a few friends who really speak terrible English and they are perfect for me to practice my Italian but I don't see them nearly enough, I need everyday re-enforcement and I'm just not getting it.

PLAN C: They want English.... Give it to them.... In SPADES!

My new plan was if I was responded to in English I'd go all New York slanglish on them at rapid fire speed, a speed only capable of people from the tri-state area. Poor guy who was the first to answer my Italian with English. I started out slow, let him think I was OK with the English responses but by the the third time I unleashed an equivalent of New York Ebonics on this guy. Stunned, stunned he was! He looked at me as if I was speaking Chinese. And then I heard the music to my ears, NON, HO CAPITO. ( I don't understand).

*** RANT INSIDE MY HEAD ONLY*****

Non ho capito?? Non ho capito?? Vero??? Hmmmmm... So, NOW you don't understand me? You want to speak English to me, this is what you will get, no more of me speaking English slowly so I can be understood, no more of me correcting my English grammer for the sake of the locals and no more cleaning up my truck driver of a mouth. You want MY English? You want MY English? You can't handle MY English!!! ( HAHA, a little " Few Good Men" for ya)

What followed was even more pleasing to my ears the phrase " Addesso, parliamo Italiano" EUREKA!!! I 've done it! I have found the secret key to making the Italians speak Italian to me whether they want to or not, just out- English them :)

cute waiter gives me a zoolander

they say, the BIGGEST Elvis fan in all of Italy

Being Home: La Dolce Vita Series

It's been a rough few weeks at the parents as my dad has not been well. Thankfully things are looking up. I returned "home" 5 days earlier than my planned August break from Italy, where everything closes and between. the heat and the tourists I took my cue from the Italians and decided to split town. I put home in parentheses because even though it's not the house I grew up in, it's the house where my parents live so therefore will always be home.

During times that try your emotional strength, I think it's normal to re-evaluate what is important and what one wants from their life. Some days I know and on others I'm still ungrounded.This trip home has given me more perspective.

I sat in my dad's chair in his office the other day. It's one of those leather chairs that you can swirl around in. As I spun around in the chair like a little kid I thought, in this small room, on the shelves of theses bookcases, on every inch of these walls are the memories of a life well lived, a life filled with family, friends & pets, a life filled with experience, a life filled with work, a life filled with smiles and tears and most importantly a life filled with an immense amount of love.

No matter where you go,what you see, what you acquire, life doesn't get much sweeter than the one depicted within the walls of my dad's office. Veramente la dolce vita :)

fathers day gift one year of ebbetts field in brooklyn

pencil drawing I did of mom as a child

sooo many photos

all the past family pets

The Street Where I Live

For the past year I have lived on Via Laura. It is my third apartment in Florence. The first was for a month when I first arrived in August 2008 and was literally in the Piazza Mercato Centrale on Via Panicali. The second was on Via Degli Alfani and now this one, the small but awesome loft on Via Laura.

Via Laura is located in the historic center but is a quiet street on the edge. My apartment is located at the end or beginning of the street depending on where you approach Via Laura from, I am a few steps from Borgo Pinti ( now one of my most favorite streets in Florence).

Via Laura is pronounced L-OW-U-RA, which is important otherwise the taxi drivers will insist that it doesn't exist. No matter how hard I try I never get it on the first shot and usually takes a few back and forth. It is a long, long street! Especially when approaching it from the Piazza Annunziata area.

It's a quiet street especially down on the end toward Borgo Pinti. There is a really cool archway where Via Pergola runs into it and a building of the University of Firenze is also on this street.

There is a super famous bookstore where people line up for hours, taking a number and waiting outside. They store their bikes at the rack surrounded by flyers and posters.

All these things I love about my street but it's not the thing I love most. Until Sunday I wasn't really sure what the small relief/wall statue was that I look at everyday. So I asked my go to guy on all things Florence my friend Eli. As we were walking toward my building I asked, " Hey Eli, what is that ?" and I pointed down the street to where Borgo Pinti intersects Via Laura. He asked if I was talking about the tabernacolo. Is that what it's called? Yes, that is what I was asking about because everyday when I walk out the door and look left I see it, staring back at me. It sits just beside the street sign that says Borgo Pinti.

Eli explained it is one of many tabernacles found throughout Florence usually located at where 2 streets intersect. He said it was there to give protection of the residents who live on that street. WOW, I have a guardian angel watching over me, who needs mace.

Now I'm no stranger to superstition and I love me some icons and such. I have evil eyes and Buddhas.

I have lucky owls, frogs and fish

And then........ I have my saints, I have St Anthony given to me by my mother's friend Anna ( from Frosinone near Rome) This one I was told to put upside down in my closet to deliver me a " good guy" Sorry to report St. Anthony has been slacking on the job!

I also have St. Lucas Patron St. of Artists

And very important for any Jewish girl, the Madonna and Child from Romania

NOW,  I learn I have another at the end of my street. It is the Madonna and Child and she watches over the residents of Via Laura, which means me. Well I did some google digging after confirming what Eli said was true with the guy that works at the Tabacchi and this is what I found.

There are said to be over 1200 tabernacles in Florence!! They are found through Italy but especially so in Florence. In a nutshell ,most of these were made and installed to first fight off the heretics of the catholic church  and then the plague of the 14th century. Desperate times call for desperate measures, ( which I think is what Anna told me when she handed over St. Anthony)

Great article found here if you want to read up and lists a bunch of tabernacles around town

http://www.florenceinitaly.com/florence-tourism/florence-tabernacles-tour.html

For me , I'm content with my tabernacle and I give her a nod everyday :)

The Baby Door

Back in April my friend Philipp was visiting from Germany. I had met Philipp the first month I was here almost 3 years ago in my language class and despite our huge age difference became great friends, he's like a kid brother to me.

It had been almost 2 years since I had seen Philipp and also I think since he had been back to Florence. We were walking to aperitivo the evening he arrived and he was trying to get his bearings on the location of my new apartment. We walked across Piazza Annunziata ( more formerly known as Piazza Santissima Annunziata). As we entered the piazza he said, "Oh, I know this piazza!! This is the piazza with the baby door!"

I looked at him as if he had already had too much to drink and repeated, "The baby door? Philipp, what are talking about? What's a baby door?" He said, "Andrea! THE BABY DOOR! You know it is the door where they put the babies!" I said, "Where they put the babies? What babies? Whose babies?  WTF are you talking about Philipp?" I was totally confused. He went on to say there is a door where the people put the babies in a box that they don't want and then they put the box in the door. It took me a minute and I said," like in the movies when someone puts a baby in a basket and leaves it at the door of someones home or at a church?" He said, " YES! OF COURSE!!" ( of course being his favorite expression). " Really?  In this piazza? Are you sure? How do you know?" He said, " Because everyone knows about the baby door!" Well I didn't! Where is it? He did not know but was sure it is in this piazza.

For one year, everyday I am in town I walk across Piazza Annunziata and have never heard of or seen a baby door. I see gypsies, I see tourists, a church, a statue, on some Saturdays a farmers market, a  cafe , no baby door. About a month goes by and I had forgotten about the baby door until one night when I was walking with my friend Mary ( from Rome but studying here in Florence) and I asked her," Hey Mary, did you know there is a baby door in this piazza?" She said, " Siiiiiii! Infatti!!!" I asked if she knew where it was and she said no, but it is here. I thought how does everyone know about this baby door but no one knows where it is.

I would continue to look for this "baby door". Not everyday, but on the days I remembered to look. I looked at windows and mail slots and was picturing a tiny little door that maybe one of these guys would walk through:

Fast forward to Sunday. I had met my friend Eli for an afternoon cocktail to catch up, it had been months since I've seen him. Albanian by birth but having lived in Florence for most of his life, Eli knows a ton about this city. He studied at The University if Firenze and is totally up on the history of this city. Great thing about hanging with Eli is his English sucks so it's always good for practicing my Italian. Anyway, he was walking me home and as we come to Piazza Annunziata I ask him , "Eli, do you know about the baby door, la porta di bambina?" He says yes that he knows. I ask if he knows where it is and he says, " SI!!! Lo so!" He knows! He knows! Finally someone knows where it is!! I ask him to show me and with that comes a history lesson about the building that holds " the baby door"

Cliff notes version is as follows: The Santissima Annunziata ( the church) is on the North side of the square. The original church which was a tiny little church was built there in 1250, the church building that stands there now was built in the 15th century. I have to admit until Sunday I had never gone inside, my miss because it is really unlike any other church in Florence, very Baroque and ornate, quite beautiful. The church gets it's name from a famous painting inside that depicts the Annunciation. That's all I got on the church because religion and churches are for sure a phone a friend catagory for me.

On the East side of the piazza is the Spedale Degli Innocenti, and this is where you find the baby door. The Spedale Degli Innocenti is said to be Europe's first orphanage, opened in 1445. Eli explained that the door was actually like a window with a wheel like shelf. When women birthed unwanted children they put them on the wheel and rang a bell. The wheel would turn inward bringing the baby into the building allowing for anonymity. Today the Spedale houses a museum and the offices of UNICEF.

This city is filled with so much history, you learn something everyday, just walking around. I had never really taken much notice of this building. As I photographed it I noticed the ceramic reliefs of babies above the arches of the portico and wondered how I had missed that. In the far northeastern corner of the Spedale, tucked under an archway lies " the baby door"

 Built over 4 centries and finished in 1875

The wheel of the innocents

Secret refuge of the misery and guilty

for the perpetual succor

of love which never shut the doors

The baby door

Daytrippin: Il Passo di Consuma

Fellow blogger Christine of " Ciao Christy" has started a Monday series called La Dolce Vita. She has been so kind to invite fellow bloggers to share posts about what makes life sweet :)





Definitely a "Dolce Vita" kind of day!

One of the things I miss most about living in Florence is a car. I used to drive EVERYWHERE! I loved driving! The thing about living in Tuscany is there are a ton of awesome places to go out of the city, most reachable by train or bus but it's not the same as being in a car out on the smaller roads where the vistas are for me, the most beautiful.

Not having my own car or even a motorino I'm dependent on friends who do to go to these places where a) a car is necessary or b) is just way more convenient. So when my friend Laura invited me to go for a drive with her, her husband Marco and brother Doug, I said HELL YEAH!

Around noon on Saturday I met up with them for a drive to the Passo della Consuma. It's a long windy road up and over the hills that connect the provinces of Arezzo and Firenze. The countryside is spectacular plus it's like 10 degrees cooler up there ( which was welcome after the recent heat wave). Our first stop was the abbey at Vallombrosa.

We walked around the grounds a bit, took a bunch of photos and then headed to a well known but far removed sandwich shop located along Il Passo Della Consuma called the Chalet il Valico. Laura and Marco had been there a bunch of times before. The place is basically a shack on a mountain frequented by Italian motorcyclists decked out from head to toe in matchy -matchy leather biker wear ( and they wear it well). Think Harley enthusiasts go Armani. I especially get a kick out of the guys with the aerodynamic fins on their backs. Anyway, this place is known for their VERY rustic sandwiches, meat and cheese on schiacciata bread ( Tuscan focaccia). The sandwiches were HUGE and a little difficult for me to eat as I am still recovering from the dentist.

View from Chalet Il Valico

Laura's brother Doug with all 4 sandwiches

Dessert: La Bomba- had chocolate pudding inside- YUM!

After lunch we went for a drive to the Castel Castagnaio ( which was closed) but the drive was real pretty and tested Laura's driving skills. Bonus, meeting the fat beagle who I thought was pregnant at the bottom of the hill. Her name is Zara.

Finally we headed out to Poppi, a town in Arezzo province. Poppi's claim to fame is that it's one of the places Dante stayed during his exile from Florence and the of course the medieval  Il Castello di Poppi. Super cute town, like one of the perched villages in Provence, great way to spend a Saturday.