Gloriously this weekend, I made my first Italian road trip more north than I have ever been been before! In an odd twist of fate, when I first arrived in Naples, I was working almost every weekend. Seeing Italy is a difficult feat when you are 1) trying to make new friends who are only off on weekends and 2) not sure where anything is and 3) not sure how to get there. But now the tables have turned. I was off on a weekend (huge plus) was able to hang out with three of my friends (another huge plus) and took a road trip through the rolling hills of Tuscany, up to Parma, Verona, and San Marino.
The hilltop fortress town of Orvieto was the first stop and the first meal. I know I tell stories by the food, but honestly, each mouthful is so delicious, I catch myself with each bite to savor the different tastes. I love the way the Italians complement the foods with the wines. Even with the antipasti, the waitresses, who are usually the restaurant owners, point out the wines they recommend and allow us to sample a truly complete meal. A brisk walk around the town capped with a tasty gelateria stop made for a wonderful afternoon. As I stood in the massive shadows of each new duomo, I felt dwarfed by the beauty of these buildings that have stood long enough to have watched centuries of visitors walk the streets on which they sit.
Parma was the next destination and what a delight to behold. The city streets were lined with banners heralding the nearby Verdi concerts and tiny vias were abuzz with shoppers out, I can only assume, to begin their Christmas shopping. The main piazza in Parma is a promenade of beautifully dressed men and women, which seems only fitting as Parma is the most affluent town in Italy. The beauty of the winter coats that topped the leather boots worn by every feminine shopper seemed the dress code of the evening, and as we southern Neapolitans huddled together for warmth, they braved the dropping temperature with grace. We discovered that most restaurants closed early, but blessing of blessings! The wine bars each had their own free buffet of antipasti and pizze! Perfetto! As we grazed on the tasty dishes and gazed in the store windows, we all agreed that Parma is one of the cleanest cities in Italy.
After a breakfast of fresh prosciutto di parma and cheese, we set out to the Parmesan cheese factory where I smelled a little too much Parmesan. The tasting however, FAR made up for the initial smells and I learned two valuable lessons: 1) never purchase grated cheese at stores. Apparently this is the third grade cheese that most Italians wouldn't even feed their pigs. And 2) Parmesan cheese mixed with honey or balsamic vinegarette is a heavenly marriage of tastes.
From then we journeyed to Verona, the land of Shakespeare, Montagues, Capulets, and balconies. Poor Parma was replaced as my favorite city the second we arrived in fair Verona. The streets are helplessly lovely and the castles the lovingly protect this old city surround you as you walk up and down the streets. We had another excellent lunch of risotto, steak and antipasto and the finest wine, I think, I have ever tasted. An indepth walking tour of the sights, as well as a visit to Juliet's famed garden, made me fall madly in love with the place made famous for its star-crossed lovers. How could I blame Juliet for her love when I myself was breathlessly captivated by the city's charm?
The weekend came to a close on Sunday as we left Verona. After asking the concierge where a Catholic church was and he replied, this is Verona! Look on all street corners and there is the church! Waiting for you! I ventured out early to Mass on my own then met up with my friends to stop at San Marino. This small country on the eastern shore of Italy was probably the most surreal experience I have had in my life. The clouds landed themselves delicately on the rolling green hills of the Italian countryside, all viewed from my perch at the top of a castle. After somemore purchases of more souvenirs I could not live without, we were off again, heading back to Naples.
And thus ends the narrative from the weekends adventures! Stay tuned for more Roman and Tuscan adventures at then end of next week!
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Living on the Via Napoli
I have been in my apartment now three weeks today. Blessing of blessings, the last of the boxes are out and the apartment shows the classic signs of my quirky personality. The black and white pictures of old Hollywood movie stars line the living room walls, and the vintage California travel posters are once again encircling my bookcases. As my new friend Susie pointed out, I decorate with Grace Kelly. Pictures will be posted soon of the new apartment. I have gotten alot of requests for them so I will jump on that. I can't seem to find my camera cord so as soon as I wade through the various drawers into which I threw all misc. items from the move, I will proceed to upload the pictures so that all my friends and family can have a taste of what it is to live in Italy.
Until then, I will describe with words what it looks like. As I wake up each morning, I walk down my tile hallway and open the doors on my balcony. The waves of the Mediterranean Sea splash on the rocks of Pozzuoli, the side town next to Naples. I can smell the salt in the air, especially during these blustery days of autumn. I watch the old ladies walk down the alley next to my building, to the Catholic Church that hides next door. Below my balcony sits my landlord at a cardtable. He, and 4-5 of his closest friends, sit there passing the time either playing cards or watching the people as they walk down the street. They ask me now everytime I walk out the door, "Maura, stai andando a correre? you...go for....run?" I guess they have seen me so often as I go for a run along the water, they assume that is all I ever do. If I am going for a run, I begin by running along the Via Napoli, the promenade along the water on which I live. I head up the hill and pass all the trattorias, cafes, and gelaterias. The water is a great attraction, and many Italians parade along it at all hours of the day. As I run by I pass whole families walking their dogs, young couples kissing, old couples kissing, and adult children pushing their parents in their wheelchairs along the water.
The restaurants are a flurry of activity starting around 8 every night. Until that point, most people pass the time people watching or calling out to their friends from their respective balconies. The driving in this area is crazy, as mopeds and scooters dodge traffic, moving in between cars, even in the oncoming traffic. The traffic is so slow at times, mainly because people pull out without looking and just blindly enter into traffic. The stop and go of leaving Pozzuoli or Naples can cause muscle cramping. My foot is perched perilously over the clutch pedal from the moment I start the car to when I safely park at my destination. I am lucky though; my apartment is on the main street of Pozzuoli restaurants. Most nights we meet up at a new restaurant and all eat family style, splitting Mozzarella de Buffala and prosciutto e Melone as an antipasti. The pizza here is to die for. The brick oven was truly a gift from Heaven. With each bite into a Neapolitan pizza, I reminded how this is the birthplace of this fabulous dish. Red wine is the drink of choice for most of my friends and me, and we usually split a few bottles with each meal. The bread, the oil, the pizza, the pasta: all these foods are what is causing me to have to run so much!
My own car, the Sante Fe with its glorious automatic transmission should be all fixed and ready for pick up today! This is not a moment too soon! Though my car troubles have allowed me the ability to find such wonderful friends like Jo, Melani and Ryan (all of whom have let me borrow their cars in the last two weeks) I will be so relieved to not have to feel the annoyed chagrin of every Pozzuoli native as I stall on my way to work. I don't know if they think that the constant beeping and yelling will make me start up the car any faster, but after two weeks of driving the stick shift, I can tell you all it does is make me take even longer to get up all the hills.
As stated before, the pictures will be coming.
Until then, I will describe with words what it looks like. As I wake up each morning, I walk down my tile hallway and open the doors on my balcony. The waves of the Mediterranean Sea splash on the rocks of Pozzuoli, the side town next to Naples. I can smell the salt in the air, especially during these blustery days of autumn. I watch the old ladies walk down the alley next to my building, to the Catholic Church that hides next door. Below my balcony sits my landlord at a cardtable. He, and 4-5 of his closest friends, sit there passing the time either playing cards or watching the people as they walk down the street. They ask me now everytime I walk out the door, "Maura, stai andando a correre? you...go for....run?" I guess they have seen me so often as I go for a run along the water, they assume that is all I ever do. If I am going for a run, I begin by running along the Via Napoli, the promenade along the water on which I live. I head up the hill and pass all the trattorias, cafes, and gelaterias. The water is a great attraction, and many Italians parade along it at all hours of the day. As I run by I pass whole families walking their dogs, young couples kissing, old couples kissing, and adult children pushing their parents in their wheelchairs along the water.
The restaurants are a flurry of activity starting around 8 every night. Until that point, most people pass the time people watching or calling out to their friends from their respective balconies. The driving in this area is crazy, as mopeds and scooters dodge traffic, moving in between cars, even in the oncoming traffic. The traffic is so slow at times, mainly because people pull out without looking and just blindly enter into traffic. The stop and go of leaving Pozzuoli or Naples can cause muscle cramping. My foot is perched perilously over the clutch pedal from the moment I start the car to when I safely park at my destination. I am lucky though; my apartment is on the main street of Pozzuoli restaurants. Most nights we meet up at a new restaurant and all eat family style, splitting Mozzarella de Buffala and prosciutto e Melone as an antipasti. The pizza here is to die for. The brick oven was truly a gift from Heaven. With each bite into a Neapolitan pizza, I reminded how this is the birthplace of this fabulous dish. Red wine is the drink of choice for most of my friends and me, and we usually split a few bottles with each meal. The bread, the oil, the pizza, the pasta: all these foods are what is causing me to have to run so much!
My own car, the Sante Fe with its glorious automatic transmission should be all fixed and ready for pick up today! This is not a moment too soon! Though my car troubles have allowed me the ability to find such wonderful friends like Jo, Melani and Ryan (all of whom have let me borrow their cars in the last two weeks) I will be so relieved to not have to feel the annoyed chagrin of every Pozzuoli native as I stall on my way to work. I don't know if they think that the constant beeping and yelling will make me start up the car any faster, but after two weeks of driving the stick shift, I can tell you all it does is make me take even longer to get up all the hills.
As stated before, the pictures will be coming.
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