vita

An Italian Bathroom Pavimento (Floor)

2010-11-18T01:00:00.000-08:00

I have dreamed about having a polished concrete floor in a bathroom

forever.

You know, the hip, industrial kind you see everywhere is restaurants, boutiques,

the kind that has become increasingly popular in the last 15 years.

It is also very economical and simple to create if you are starting from

scratch, you just pour a slab of concrete, and get someone who

knows what they are doing to polish it with the proper equipment.

Just like these below.

When I started designing this Italian bathroom in my head, I knew I finally could

bring that dream of polished concrete floor into reality.

I thought it would be easy.

But I must have forgotten that when building or remodeling in Italy,

nothing is easy.

Ever.

So I approached Taddeo, the muratore (wall and floor builder)

with the idea of a polished concrete floor.

He tells me they don't do those in Italy.

What do you mean they don't do those?

He tells me, again, they don't do

"pavimenti industriali" (concrete floors)

in bathrooms or any other room in Italy.

But that is what I want, I explain patiently.

I see them everywhere, I tell him there is a parking

garage down the road a bit with the perfect

"pavimento industriale"

that will do just fine.

He says,

No, they just don't do that here.

He then brightens and says,

"But I can do something with "resina"

over the concrete base we have to pour anyway,

it will look just like you want.

I'll bring you make you a sample."

Allright, I am going to be open-minded about this.

The next day, Taddeo shows up with some concrete smeared on a piece of roof tile,

that he poured some of this resina stuff on, and did some smearing.

If I squinted, it looked kind of like concrete, minus the polish part.

For about a week, I tried to be ok with his solution.

Then I saw yet another nearby parking garage, with again,

the perfect concrete floor for my bathroom.

I am very tenacious (or maybe it is just controlling)

about what I want, when I want it.

is just not acceptable.

So, I decided to do a little internet research myself and educate both

myself first,and subsequently Taddeo,

on how we could make a polished concrete floor

in this bathroom here,

at Casa San Marco,

in this Italian hilltown of Cortona,

even though nothing like it

had ever been attempted before.

Thank god for Google and high speed-internet.

I Googled and YouTubed for hours until I was

proficient in the creation of high polished concrete floors.

One uses a diamond grinder which looks kind of like a huge

lawnmower with a large drum on the front.

This may be a good business opportunity for me here in

Italy, this making of concrete floors since

no one does them.

But back to the task at hand.

So now that I am so knowledgable in

the making of polished concrete floors, how am I going

to pass on my new found knowledge to Taddeo,

who speaks no English?

I can't exactly show him all the articles

I found.

My Italian is functionally fluent, but certainly

not fluent enough to deliver a long dissertation

on the chemical components and the technical procedure for

polished concrete floor making.

But I do know enough Italian to plug in some keywords into

www.google.it,

the Italian version of Google.

"Pavimento industriale", " pavimento di cemento"

and pavimento industriale come uno specchio"

(concrete pavement like a mirror)

were but a few of the phrases I googled.

I am happy to report the Google Italian

works just well as Google English.

A host of informative sites appeared on this

concrete floor business, along with many informative

DYI or how to Youtube videos.

My favorite were these two videos, part 1 and part 2.

Oh. Whoops, looks like this is Mexico.

Won't really serve my purpose here.

But the technique crosses all borders.

So then I find some helpful articles in Italian

on concrete floor making and polishing,

I even use Google Translate to translate an

entire PDF document from English to Italian

that was particularly informative.

I save at least 5 or 6 YouTube

videos, 4 or 5 Italian articles,

all on my desktop, organized and packaged

all nice and tidy.

I have also spent a small fortune on

Italian Home magazines, all which have glossy

photos of concrete floors built in

real Italian homes,

living rooms, kitchens,

EVEN BATHROOMS!

(Didn't Taddeo tell me they don't do that here??

I went so far as to purchase earlier several packages of

metal clips to mark the pages in these magazines.

I wanted to be hyper-organized when

I did my visual aids presentation to Taddeo.

After many, many hours of research and subsequent

preparation,

I was ready for Taddeo.

I called him up and told him that I wasn't feeling right about

our decision to do the floor with "an imitation concrete

resina look-alike'' solution that we had arrived at,

I wanted to "show him" some things I had found.

Ha. He didn't have even a clue of the coming

onslaught.

He showed up at the usual time of 9pm,

after dinner, after his actual work day somewhere else,

because he never seems to stay here more than

15-20 minutes during the day.

He sat down at the kitchen table where I had my presentation all

ready. I stated my case and used my armory of

visual aids.

He focused on the diamond floor polisher and laughed.

Stacey, first of all,

you can't get those here, second of all,

how are you going to fit that in the bathroom?

Hmmm.

He has a point.

I'm sure you can get those diamond polishers here,

I did find them on Italian sites as well,

but regardless, those monsters are about 8 ft long and

3 feet wide and the bathroom isn't even that big.

He looks at a few of the sites, mildly interested,

I had so painstakenly saved on the desktop for him,

and says,

"Si, no problema, we can do this.

You just need to do it by hand

with an American trowel tool."

(whatever that is)

You can?

That's it?

He explains how he will do it, and does not seem to think it is an issue.

Then, he says, like a schoolboy who want's to be let out of school,

"Posso andare?"

Can I go now?

Yes, Taddeo, you can go.

Wouldn't want you to spend more than your

allotted 15-20 minutes a day here.

Well, I am holding my breath about this concrete floor.

Cooking in an Italian Construction Zone

2010-11-13T13:50:00.000-08:00

The first few days here, I ate out, the house being a

construction zone and everything had a fine layer of

centuries old dust over it. It simply wasn't very

appealing to think about cooking with dust, and I

mean MAJOR dust.

After a while, eating out got old.

And spendy.

So I was inspired by something I ate in the local restaurant

called polezze. (Rape greens)

So I got a handful of the stuff along with some of the olio nuovo

or new olive oil which has just been pressed in this last month.

I set about washing down the kitchen counters and cleared a space to work.

I boiled the polezze just as Nunzi,

the frutta vendolo (fruit and vegetable seller) lady told me to.

Saute a few cloves of garlic in the new oil,

drain the polezze...sautee that up for a minute or so-

and done!

This is the color of extra virgin

olive oil that has just been pressed.

The taste is unreal.

It was so good, just garlic, oil and greens...

great chick dinner.

I was very happy.

I get very enthusiastic about some things, well,

maybe many things, and I tend to move into

extreme mode.

I liked the polezze so much, I went back to

Nunzi the next day and bought every bunch of polezze

that she had.

That went home to the frig.

Then I got sick.

About 2 or 3 days into this cold that had me

stationed on the couch, I lazily thought,

" I better cook the polezze..."

So I did.

Nunzi told me however that it tastes kind of bitter after several

days.

I didn't think so , it was fine second time around.

The mound of polezze in the fridge didnt seem to get

smaller at all.

I let it sit.

Now 10 days later, it is kind of smelly.

I think it is time to toss the polezze.

And, I haven't cooked again.

It's back to depending on the kindness of

people here to feed me or

eating cold pecorino cheese and a pear,

standing up in the kitchen,

which has now become

a dustbowl again.

The only thing going on the stove is a pan

of boiling water for coffee each

morning...I am content.

Arrival in Italy- 13 Days Ago

2010-11-09T03:36:00.000-08:00

I am constantly taking photos with the

intent of doing some blog post.

Rarely does the blog post ever materialize.

There are just too many wonderful things to do

in life, and I can't usually sit still long enough to

devote hours to a post.

You fellow bloggers know what I mean.

It is a considerable commitment to post

consistently.

So, that said, I have been flat out on the couch,

in Italy for several days now with a nasty

cold. Thank god for wi-fi.

I wouldn't want to have to read a book or something.

Or start that art journal I have been meaning to do for

about 5 years now.

No, instead, I, like so many others, get lost in a cyber world,

so I am NOW catching up on at least a few of the posts that

I took pictures for since arriving in Europe 3 weeks ago.

That said,

Let's visit the arrival in Rome,

Leonard da Vinci Airport,

more commonly known here as Fiumicino.

My Berlin Air flight lands and

I thank the powers that

be for arriving safely.

I never understand when people complain about

a flight, regardless of how miserable it

might be with cramped leg room or that it takes

sooooooo long to arrive in Asia or India or whatever.

I mean come on, lets get a grip folks...

In my mind, it is first of all, amazing that we

can go hurling through the air in a metal canister, across the world,

and arrive somewhere else in a matter of hours.

Even if it is 24 hours, who cares?

How great is that that we get to do this?

And secondly, that we touch down

IN ONE PIECE

is a lot to be grateful for.

But enough of my ranting.

Back to the story...

As we hit the runway, the entire plane

of passengers simultaneously

whips out their cell phones, having been out of

communication with the world for 1 hour and 25 minutes.

It was as if this dance of emerging cell phones was

choreographed by some unseen director, no kidding.

And of course, I was right in there with everyone.

I text my beloved Italian friend from Cortona, Denys,

who has generously agreed to drive 2 hours to the

airport to pick me up.

What a pal.

I send her a message saying

"Sono arrivata"

(I have arrived)

As people are scrambling to get their luggage out of the

overhead, I hear my phone beep in my pocket.

Great, I think, I bet Denys is right outside.

I check the message.

It says:

"Ma arrivi domani!"

(But you arrive tomorrow!"

I think, she's joking with me...

I call her her up,

"Denys, dove sei?"

("Where are you!)

I am still thinking that she is just outside of

baggage.

She replys again and

MOST

INSISTANTLY,

"Stacey, ma arrivi DOMANI!!!!"

(You arrive TOMORROW!)

Then why am I standing in this plane, at Rome airport,

NOW, TODAY?

I really confused for a moment as the truth of the situation settled in,

Denys was not right outside at all.

I frantically search my mind,

"Did I tell her tomorrow?"

NO! Ah Ha! I remember that I sent her the airline

itinerary via email.

So I didn't goof this one up.

I remind her of that and she pauses,

and says,

Oh si, giusto,

"Mi dispiace, ma devo andare al funerale oggi..."

"Oh ok, you're right, I'm sorry.

But I have to go to a funeral today."

Well, I guess I'm taking the train.

Luckily, I sent more stuff from Berlin down

to Italy, just like last summer,

for a rerun of that experience,

see here.

I can't ever seem to go anywhere without hauling alot

of stuff around.

So now I am in no rush to be anywhere,

it's 11 am and I've been up since 5am,

so after I retrieve my 1 bag from baggage

claim, I head for the nearest bar, in desperate

need of a doppio espresso.

Ah, that's much better, I feel great now!

Ok, onward to Roma Termini, the central

train station in downtown Rome.

I get on the train and settle in for a nice 2 hour ride to Cortona.

Whoops, well, it turned out to be a 5 hour ride,

there were no direct trains for a few hours,

so I took a milk run train that changed trains along the way.

But still, I have settled in to the change of events

for the day,

I have the latest Carl Hiassen book

"Star Island", I'm all set...

Hours later, in that golden light of the day,

I approach that magical town of Cortona...

I'm home.

BAGNO 2

2010-11-08T14:25:00.000-08:00

And there is that sweet sound of construction I was talking about...

Construction in Italy Part 1

2010-11-08T14:23:00.000-08:00

A peek behind the scenes featuring Giuseppe, the singing idralico...

House Restoration in Italy

2010-11-07T12:35:00.000-08:00

The purpose of my visit to Italy this fall was to remodel the tired bathroom

that just has had enough.

(actually I am sure the bathroom is quite content, it is me that has

had enough...)

Husband keeps asking how it is going.
Well, it is always much more interesting
to use some visual aids to tell a story, in my opinion,
so I keep evading his questions
until I could paint a picture with both words and photos=
BLOG POST!

We bought this apartment in 2002 and in the first year we owned it, it was necessary to remodel the kitchen and add a second bathroom.
That is pretty much all we have done in 8 years.

But this tired old bathroom has not had

an overhaul probably since the 1980's and it is due. I tried to give it facelifts by
painting it white a few years back and I worked with a local Cortona
artist to paint some fun painted finishes on the ceiling.

3 or 4 years ago doing the bathroom "facelift"

The facelift of the past 3-4 years

It was fine for a while, but this poor bathroom has

seen better days.

I'm over it.
So once again, I am entering into the world of
Italian
House Renovation.
Not a job for the faint of heart.
Everything you may have read or heard about renovating a house
in Italy is most likely true and then some.
I have had just about all these experiences that were ever
written about building or remodling in Italy.

They are extremely challenging, frustrating, funny,
unbelievable, maddening to the point of homicide,
and some of the best times I have ever had.

I love the sound of workers hammering, sawing,

pounding, drilling, it thrills me to no end to see

my vision being built.

(remind me I said that when something goes

wrong with THIS project, so far nothing has

but it isn't over YET)

So exit old tired bathroom and this is what I walked into

10 days ago...

Completely demolished, down to the 500 year old walls.

Isn't it beautiful?

I was delighted!

No more stupid blue.

No more 1980's tired gaudy fixtures.

No more cheesy painted white wood

walls that keep peeling.

No more centuries old dust that keeps falling out from

behind the cheesy white paneled walls that barely

held everything in.

Just rubble.

Beautiful, pure rubble.

And 500 year old stone walls.

A blank canvas.

I called the two main worker guys,

Giuseppe and Taddeo, the

respective idralico (plumber/electrician)

the muratore (wall mason).

They INSISTED on coming over immediately

that evening at 9:30pm.

They seemed quite eager and pleased

to see me.

(actually I think they were really happy to see

me arrive,

knowing they were going to make a

sacco di soldi (a sack of money)

at my expense,

stupidina Americana..

Now I was here to begin the project and

the sacco di soldi was not far away...

But maybe not,

maybe we are all just good pals and they were

really excited to see me...

Yeah right.

But none the less, we had a fine, animated chat.

They point out all the various places of work that was done

BEFORE their sojourn here, at Casa San Marco 2 years ago,

and take great glee in showing me how the imbecile former

plumber who remodeled our kitchen which

adjoins the bathroom wall,

used pipes made out of plastic that were as thick (or thin) as a balloon.

Balloon thin pipes in 1/2 thick walls.

If you fell against that wall with enough impact,

you would probably end up in the kitchen.

They then illustrated to me how

both the bathtub drainage and the washing machine drainage was

joined into one tiny pipe that leads out of the house.

The previous evil idralico then encased these pipes

in a flimsy sheetrock rock wall about 1/2

inch thick.

The upshot of this

discussion was that we were extremely

fortunate that the pipes never burst by carrying so much

water in pipes

not designed to carry much water at all,

much less the kind of water that gets

drained out of a washing machine and bathtub.

Next, they proceeded to show me the the pipes

where the toilet HAD been.

The way the former plumber had done those was to not support them

in any way, the main drain from the toilet was just kind of flopping around,

lyingright up against my

neighbors ceiling.

So again, we were lucky that the toilet sewage

or the toilet itself never fell into our downstairs neighbor

Ivana's living room.

They then asked who the CAZZO (fuck)

did that shoddy work anyway?

Was it that joker Rinaldo?

I sheepishly looked at the floor.

"Well, we were new here, we didn't know anyone, Rindaldo

was referred to us by some friends who knew a plumber...''

They dismissed my pathetic answer, they all ready knew that

Rinaldo was the culprit, they just wanted to see me squirm.

They went on to

joke around between themselves drawing me into

the festivities.

A lot of words were batted around referring to the former

idralico (plumber) such as:

"CRETINO" and "IDIOTO" and "IMBICILE".

I don't see that I need to translate here.

It is fairly self explanatory.

I don't usually like to indulge in such slander (Ha!)

but I must admit, I got right in there with them.

So a good time was had by all.

We made some decisions, talked about the general ideas

of this bathroom remodel

and it was agreed that they would come back to start

building the next day.

The next day, the new improved wall went up in about 10 seconds,

thanks to the hard work of the

Albanian work force that Taddeo has

employed.

Those guys are amazing.

Newly improved wall, made with real bricks,

several inches thick,

with the correct plumbing fixtures and pipes,

strong enough to carry sludge to the sewer system.

I should say that my experience

in these now 3 times of doing restoration in

Italy is always done by looking at a few photos

that I show the workers,

and I cross my fingers, say a prayer that it will all turn out ok.

And here I go again, insane enough to enter into this

process yet another time.

It is like giving birth.

You never remember the pain and you

are ever so eager to repeat the whole

grueling experience all over again.

Here we go....let's have another baby!

How I Spent Day of the Dead in Italy

2010-11-01T14:23:00.000-07:00

Had a most incredible Day of the Dead here in Italy, it is a national holiday, many go to the cimitero (cemetery) to pay their respects and and bring flower and candles to remember lost loved ones. It is also a time of gathering with friends and family over some elaborate pranzo, or lunch.

Flower vendors set up temporary booths several days

before hand and the graves are graced

with elaborate flower arrangements, it is such a lovely and civil holiday that I wish we celebrated in our country.

I was invited with along with my friends, Denys and Claudio, to lunch at the

4-star Olive Oil Resort,

Villa Campesti,

http://www.villacampestri.com

in the hills outside Florence.

Denys is a local travel/tour agent and

she often gets invited and comped gratis lovely tours and meals by hotels, resorts and such, in an effort to work with her to bringing clients to their establishment.

I got to be the recepient of today's invitation, lucky me.

This sublime estate was built in the 14th century,

we were given a tour by the owners,

then wined and dined (well, I only dined) in the exquisite dining room overlooking this verdant estate.

The pranzo (lunch) was unreal,

not my usual piece of cheese I normally wolf down standing up.

Antipasto started with bruschetta, a selection of cheeses

with some fresh pear compote that knocked me out!

(I will never be able to eat Trader Joe's sliced New York Cheddar again..)

followed by some spaghetti with an amazing grated breadcrumb mixure,

their "new olive oil" that was pressed 2 days ago,

followed THEN by a steak Tagliata (grilled) over a bed of fresh greens and shaved parmigiano

(watch out Rob, this was a close contender to yours...)

And if that wasn't enough,

the desserts were olive oil ricotta cake over berry brulee,

chocolate fondante olive oil cake,

and olive oil pear tatin.You think there is a theme here?

We were all happily groaning and stuffed,

Claudio kept remarking that he wanted to go take a nap in the papal

bed that was in one of the rooms we had seen earlier.

A bit heavy and ostentatious for both Denys and myself,

but Claudio was pretty fixated on that Pope bed.

Then of course, doppio espresso...which was fortunate,

because after this 3 hour lunch,we were then escorted down to the olive oil tasting room

where the olive oil "sommelier" gave us an education

on how olive oil should be tasted and several samplings of

swirling olive oil in ones mouth.

Oh, and I visited the cimitero also, but you will

need to wait for that story;

it is worthy of a future blog post.........

stay tuned....

Breakfast in Berlin

2010-10-23T14:04:00.001-07:00

It seems as though I have suddenly found myself back in Berlin again this autumn.

When I was here this past summer, I made some wonderful

new friends,

(see former post here)

who invited me back to visit,any time.

How could I refuse?

So here I am, living and hanging in the heart of the

MITTE neighborhood,which is about maybe

a kilometer + or - in circumference,

and I have barely made it out of this zone

in 3 days.

I started to get panicked, I have to SEE, DO, FIND

everything in Berlin in the week I am here,

and I havent even left the MITTE.

I had all these fantasies about how I would be

painting, collaging and writing in

art journals at some chic and cool cafe, whiling the

hours away,

dressed in fashionable attire

fitting for an artist,

with my little portable studio

spread out all over the table,

looking and actually being extremely prolific as I fill

page after page of the MANY blank

journals I hauled over to Europe.

(Last time I checked, they don't sell Moleskin here,

or any other blank journals either)

Oh, and each page of these newly filled journals would be a masterpiece too.

AND

I would have seen

EVERYTHING

in Berlin as well.

So as you might imagine, I have done none of this.

I am living in a fantasy land.

It is a big problem for me.

I have a seriously warped perception of reality.

Oh well.

Keep coming back.

Meanwhile, I am having a blast.

And I truly am enjoying

WHAT IS.

and

I have found the most wonderful caffe, it doesn't appear to

have a name except:

BAR CAFFE.

I am completely enamored of the place, it's a young trendy

hang out, open 24/7, with millions of 50's and 60's thrift store sofas stacked back to back

(that part is a little questionable,I could have done

a much better job with the furniture arranging)

BUT

the wall treatments are so great,

I have been obsessively studying them for days.

And I have taken about 200 photos so far.

They went down to the existing rock and sheetrock in this broken down building

and left all the rawness and then did beautiful graphite pencil drawings on

heavy tracing paper and pasted them onthe walls , so the effect is translucent

and the drawings look totally integrated with the crumbling, raw walls.

Plus, the BAR CAFFE makes killer espresso.

I am NEVER Cooking Again

2010-08-29T09:11:00.000-07:00

I am so happy.

Jesse cooked dinner.

He has an extremely refined sensibility about food,

how it should taste, and how to put it together.

"Una buona forchetta"

("a good fork", literally translated from Italian,

but actually means "good taste"

So we were at Zupans together, trying to figure out what to have

for dinner, and he said

"I have it Mom, let's do Pasta Puttanesca"

Yuck, I say,

"I HATE tomato sauce!!!"

"No, no, no, we do fresh tomatoes, barely cooked...", he insists.

In my mind, I struggle with this concept of relinquishing control.

Tomatoes?

I arrive at a solution.

"Ok, Jesse, you make it!"

He says no.

I say yes.

He acquises and happily runs about Zupan's gathering ingredients.

"What about the anchovies", I feebly insert...

"NO, no anchovies, this is MY dish now."

Ok, I surrender.

And Jesse takes over.

The results?

Fresh cooked sweet cherry tomatoes, garlic, olives, capers

basil and parsley, the exact proportions that created

the most delicious sauce,

it was PERFECTION!

And I am a food snob.

I do not give out compliments regarding food lightly.

This was truly one of the best pasta dishes EVER.

And the best part was:

Now I know that not only is my son

more than capable of cooking a great meal,

he is MUCH better than I am, so now I don't ever have

to cook AGAIN, yipee!

Too bad Jesse is moving back up to college next week,

minor detail.

Oh well.

Cortona 2010

2010-08-19T06:12:00.001-07:00

Cortona!

Always the same heading up this hill, it never fails to

delight me!

I first came to Cortona over 10 years ago, as a result of

having done a junior year abroad in Florence

over 30 years ago.

Or as they say so politely in Italian:

Diversi anni fa...

(Some years ago)

This is what you say when the number of years ago REALLY

starts to tell your age, so you just say vaguely:

Some years ago...

Anyway, I like that, as the college experience is now just not

a few years back, it is

Diversi anni fa...

Duomo, Florence

So, I had the good fortune to be spending my junior year in college,

in Florence, Italy,

with an extraordinary group of kids from all over

California and had an EXTRAORDINARY

resident director who was from San Jose State,

Duilio Peruzzi.

He was originally from Cortona, Italy,

still had family and friends there, and

has always traveled back and forth to

Cortona his entire life.

10 + years ago, Rob and I set about realizing a dream:

to move to Italy for a year with our young kids, put them in

Italian elementary school for a year and give them the

experience of living in a foreign country.

We chose Cortona, because Duilio connected us with

his family there and we were made to feel

so welcome and at home.

We have been returning there every year since, and it

truly is a home to us.

Duilio is often there as well when we return.

He lives down the street from us in Cortona,

and it is always a joy to see him about town.

He possesses the gift of gab, as do many Italians,

so I was able to catch some candid shots of him at the weekly

market in Cortona, doing what he does best.

And so I start this month of Cortona 2010 adventures

giving credit where credit is due:

to my pal Duilio, who I always

credit with not only instilling in me, a love of Italy

but more particularly, leading me to

this magical home that I am blessed with,

Cortona.

Duilio, love and mille grazie to

you always!

Goodbye Berlin

2010-08-08T08:58:00.000-07:00

Our last day in Berlin, Rob took some time to himself

and headed out for the day.

I gave him the address of a shoe store

I had found the day before,

shopper extraordinaire that I am, where I located some really boss

yellow sneaker type shoes to replace his beloved pair he

got 3 years ago, but have sadly seen much better days.

I got a text from him a few hours later, saying that he had

been to the store and bought not only the yellow pair, but

a black pair that he selected all on his own!

What a shopper!

I wonder if he has a spending problem?

Rob was quite happy tromping around on his own

we came to find out later.

That left me and the kids to our own devices. First task of the day

was to find some boxes to ship all that crap to Italy that filled up my 3

suitcases. We were going to being flying to Italy the next day on

Air Berlin and I had neglected to read the fine print on free

baggage allowance. Seems that this airline is a bit stricter than most,

you are allowed one free checked bag at 22 kilos, and then any additional baggage is

10 euro per kilo!!!

I nearly had a heart attack.

I had about 30 + kilos in excess weight,

so that was going to be about 300 euro, or $400 to be exact,

for me to get all those

outfits to Italy.

Hmmm, this was a very serious problem and not one that

I wanted to share with Rob just yet.

So I waited til he went off on his solo man adventure

before I started problem solving.

I had been keeping my eyes open for cartons

being recycled on the sidewalk in front of stores,

but so far, nothing.

I don't know how or where they dispose of them.

I tried to engage Jesse and Corey in my task.

I forgot momentarily that they aren't toddlers anymore

and they are pretty hip to my shenanigans.

The adventure of looking for shipping cartons held absolutely

NO allure for them whatsoever.

Not to mention it was allready about 900 degrees out at 9am.

So I bribed them with coffee and pastry, they

grudgingly accompagnied me.

We set out for the Kaiser supermarket down the street.

Nothing there but produce boxes with the large airholes in them,

not suitable for shipping and mailing.

So I had to think quickly on my feet and ask myself;

"What kind of retailer would have daily deliveries that would always have an abundance of boxes on hand that they would

need to dispose of?

A pharmacy- an APOTEK,

why, I had seen them on just about every corner!

Yup, sure enough, there was one across the street from

Kaiser Supermarket.

I parked the kids at the caffe on the corner with their coffee and pastry bribe as they were quickly losing it.

I entered the Apotek and explained to the pharmacist what I was after.

I speak NO german, and she didn't speak much English, but somehow

she was able to understand me after a lot of pantomime and words like

POSTE...

She went in the back room and brought our a magnificent carton, heavy duty,

that could withstand high impact and it was the size of a suitcase.

But it wasn't enough for my 30 kilos of outfits and assorted stuff.

So I had the gall to ask her for another carton.

She kindly went in the back again and this time

brought out a carton of equal size and durability.

This one however, had not been unpacked of its contents.

She patiently unpacked all the bottles of drugs, etc. and gave me the box.

Her kindness was so appreciated.

I thanked her profusely.

She was my Apotek angel that appeared in my hour of need.

Now I would not need to burden

dear Rob with my excess baggage problem.

Back to the kids and their coffee.

The next step in this adventure was getting 30 kilos and 2 large empty

cartons to the post office which was over a mile away. Jesse at this point

was completely melting down (he doesn't do well with this kind of fun)

and Corey was up for the adventure since he had just downed several

double espressos. So we sent Jesse home and Corey and I hailed

a cab to the Deutsche Post.

Easy.

8 euros and 4 minutes later.

We enter the Deutsche Post which is hyper organized and extremely

efficient. Corey comments how we need to find a "workstation".

We select a part of the store that is devoid of people and plenty of room

to spread out the 30 kilos of stuff and pack it up.

I taught Corey how to pack a box

and surround it with many meters of shipping

tape. Actually, what I hope that I taught him

through the experience was how to be

resourceful, think on one's feet, and solve

the problem at hand. I think he enjoyed the experience.

The morning was great fun and one of my treasured

travel experiences with my kids.

And there it goes,

30 kilos of junk all for the price

of 75 euro as opposed to the 300 euro it would have cost on Air Berlin...

I feel so accomplished!

But wait, I am feeling so light and airy, no

excess baggage to be weighted down with and

on the way back to the apartment, I see an oil

painting on the sidewalk in front of an antique/junk store

that leaves me breathless!

Corey, l must have a look!

I bargain with the gentleman,

get the painting for a song,

take it off the stretcher bars, roll it up, and trot off

happily to pack it in my recently arrived at 22 kilo suitcase.

We collect Jesse and hightail it over to to meet Dad at Hackescher Market area,with his new shoes.

We then run into Wolfgang and Marie, who happened to

be driving by and noticed us looking like befuddled tourists

with our maps out.

We made a tentative plan to get together for dinner and I got

to take my family to Marie's Doll Kingdom.

Even Corey and Jesse were impressed with the glass eyeballs.

Wolfgang, Marie, and Udo took us to a local outdoor

Beirgarten close to their neighborhood.

It was a very festive atmosphere, hundreds of long communal tables

with people feasting on fresh sausages, corn on the cob, beer and

I cant remember what else.

We all enjoyed ourselves tremendously and loved

our new Berlin friends.

A delightful evening was had by all and we said goodbye, but promised to

return soon.

The next morning, the day of our flight to Italy,

it was torrential rain, and

we had our newly packed 45 lb. suitcases to navigate

to the taxi cue about 10 minutes away so we could get to the airport.

No umbrellas.

Rob and I did some makeshift rain gear.

Rob bravely made his way to the taxi stand.

We made it to the airport with time to spare,

the Air Belin clerk barely glanced at our

22 kilo bags and all was well.

I was sad to leave,

Berlin was fantastic and I loved it all.

It is a very creative, artistic, avant guarde

city, and I barely scratched the surface.

The people that I met were so kind and

hospitable and I know that I will be

back before too long.

New Friends in Berlin

2010-08-08T00:38:00.000-07:00

I was very fortunate to meet some new friends in Berlin.

My Portland pal, Rachel, had lived in Berlin

15 years ago for a few years and

made some close friends, who she graciously connected me with.

I was able to meet up with Wolfgang and Marie,

and several other dear people, who I am blessed to now

know as new friends.

Rachel had told me that Marie had a very special workshop

that would completely delight and enchant me.

After meeting Marie briefly,my first evening in Berlin, she invited me to visit her workshop/laboratory.

I liked her immediately, such a lovely and kind woman.

I hightailed it over to the Mitte area of Berlin the next day, to her workshop:

Marie Louise von Mallinckrodt

Restaurierung Antiker Puppen

(Restoration of Antique Dolls)

Please click on the link, to see Marie's website, it is a

visual feast, beautifully done. Her workshop space, the

building, the dolls, all of it, beautifully done. Even if dolls

are not your thing, this enterprise is a museum really,

and worth a visit. Her website was created by Udo, another

new friend who I had the opportunity to meet.

He is a gifted photographer

and web designer, and as soon as I can obtain

his website address, I will post a link to it.

And so...

Anyone who knows me well, and even not so well,

knows by now that I have a thing for discarded dolls.

I walked into Marie's charming workshop,

and I was TRANSPORTED!

I had just entered my first antique doll hospital!

Hundreds of dolls and all their parts in various stages of

restoration. Marie has an astounding collection of not only

antique dolls but clothing and body parts, all catalogued

and stored in wonderful vintage/antique cabinets.

I was DIZZY with excitement!

She gave me a tour and could barely breath, I have

never seen anything like it.

The only experience that came close was visiting

Isla de la Munecas with my buddy

Michael de Meng.

To go there with me, click here and here and here.

But, back to Berlin and Marie's Doll Hopital.

A drawer of antique doll glass eyeballs-WOW!

I spent about an hour with Marie in this extraordinary

museum really, and I have to say, this doll below was my

favorite.

There must be something going on in my psyche that I'm working thru to always be drawn to the most damaged dolls...oh well, a future session with my therapist if I ever feel like figuring it out. For now, I don't much care.

Marie, thank you for a most wonderous time with you and sharing

your art, your work, and yourself with me.

It was a fantastic experience,

I am most grateful!

Berlin...Finally

2010-08-07T23:47:00.000-07:00

We made it!

It took us about 4 different trains, a few buses, a taxi, but we got there finally after

2 days of travel.

We stayed in the Kreuzberg area in a great apartment that

the owners usually rent out to film companies, so the apartment had

twin beds stacked all over the place.

We walked everywhere, Checkpoint Charlie being one of our first stops, the most famous

crossing point during the Cold War between East and West Germany.

It was intense, and brought to life what was happening here.

Next, we wandered over to the Eastside Gallery, a 1.3 km.

section of the Berlin wall that has been painted by over 100 international

artists to commemorate freedom. It is the largest open air gallery in the world.

I LOVED this, and could have looked at these paintings all day,

FANTASTIC!

Midway along this stretch, we stumbled into

a fantastic scene, an urban beach on the Spree River.

We came to find out that these are popping up all over the

place in Europe but it was novel to us and an amazing experience.

Evidently, sand was imported from Italy to create these city beaches.

Beaches in Europe, are so civilized, they complete with caffes, bars,

lounge chairs, and often discos, and this Berlin Urban Beach was no

exception. We got espressos and plotzed in the beach chairs

overlooking the river-it was magical.

I am thinking that this would be amazing to create on the

Willamette River in Portland.

Tourist river boats cruised by, adding to

the surreal quality of this experience.

Back to Berlin

2010-08-07T14:30:00.001-07:00

3 of these bags are mine. My family was molto pissed off

at me once again, I do this every time, pack way to much

and haul crap that I don't need all over the place.

We left Amsterdam 4 weeks ago.

We have been in Italy for 3 weeks.

So do the math.

Where did we go for 1 week after we left Amsterdam?

Berlin.

I have been taking photographs for the past 4 weeks, with good

intentions of blogging happily as we traveled along,

recounting our adventures.

But, I don't have a pattern of getting anything done "on time"

except maybe getting to the hairdresser to get my hair dyed.

That always gets done.

Since we will be heading home in about 9 days, I guess I better get blogging.

I'll see if I can write about 5 weeks worth of adventures in the next few days.

As my friend Harrison says:

"Balance is a place we only pass on the way to extreme."

Touche' Harrison.

Berlin.

It took us 2 days to get there from Amsterdam, normally a 6 hour journey.

We got stuck about an hour outside of Amsterdam, on a train bound for Berlin, except we were notified that there would be some re-routing changes as there had been storms

in Germany and we would need to change trains. We ended up in Amersfoort, and after sitting around the station for hours waiting for this new train, we were then told that there would be no trains going to Germany that day.

I trotted off to find us a hotel, strangely exhilarated over this change in plans, much like

I feel when it snows in Portland, which isn't often.

There is an excitement in having something totally unexpected happens,

and often the best adventures ensue.

We hauled all that lugguge over to the NH Amersfoort Hotel and checked in

it was one of the nicest hotels I felt like I had ever been in,

SO CLEAN, CRISP AND WHITE!

And only 100 euro a night!

It was luxurious!

We relaxed, ate a nice dinner in the dining room,

and reveled in our grown up holiday.

Last Day In Amsterdam

2010-07-12T14:18:00.001-07:00

I am particularly fond of these new friends I found today,

especially the blond.

Beautiful Creepy Dolls in Amsterdam

2010-07-09T14:41:00.000-07:00

I find them wherever I go.

They make me so happy.

Heading to Amsterdam

2010-07-08T14:14:00.000-07:00

I am excited.

I was in Amsterdam over 30 years ago for maybe a day.

Not enough to count, much less remember.

So here I come again, this time with the

Friedman family in tow.

Jesse is excited too, can you tell?

Wow, we are really here!

Corey and I felt the vibe immediately when we hit the airport

and fell in love with the place.

We were met by met by lovely Myrthe at the airport, our host, who drove us to her

family's apartment where we were met by Connie, her delightful husband.

They have spent an extraordinary effort to prepare their beautiful flat for us to

move into while they re-locate at their moms for a week. We are on the canal and I am ready to move into this place, it is wonderful.

It's true, there are millions of bikes here.

I know! I will make a collection of bike photos.

What an unusually obsessive thing for me to do.

More later.

Spent a delightful day wandering an area called the Jordaan,

filled with beautiful boutiques, caffes, canals.

Jesse still looks and feels like the first photo at the top,

he had pulled an all nighter before we left and now,

3 days later, he is sorry he did, since he caught some kind of bug.

He unfortunately didn't come with us today.

Happened upon a store who was serving of all things,

Stumptown, their trial kiosk here in Amsterdam.

After lunch and gelato, the 2 Friedmans decided to head back

to the ranch for a little relax time.

Not me however.

I might miss something.

I can rest when I'm dead anyway,

There will be plenty of time then.

So within about 10 seconds I find the

most PERFECT boots I have been looking for

ALL MY LIFE!

They look like Fyre, but they are not.

Some Spanish brand, black suede and as

soft as butter.

I text Rob and tell him I have found the perfect pair of boots and

my family said I could have a retro-active birthday present from

Amsterdam. So can I have them please?

His text back reads:

Sorry, this phone is out of order.

Please try again in a few years.

Of course, I got them. I thought they would look really good with the skinny jeans

I was wearing, so I clomped out of the store wearing them.

However it was about 95 degrees and my feet were swollen

and throbbing so fashion will have to wait.

I will sign off tonight with a few choice photos.

Oh, and one more I caught on the way back

tonight.

Happy 16th Birthday Marshall!

2009-11-29T21:44:00.000-08:00

I can't believe it.

Marshall is 16 today.

10 years ago, my son Corey, was about to enter Kindergarten at Arbor School.

It is such a great school that they send the Kindergarten teacher to your house

in August before school starts so that your kid feels comfortable.

So out came Lori P.,

best Kindergarten teacher ever.

She hung out with Corey in his room and told him that

she had a first grader in her class

named Marshall that was very "special" and that she thought Corey and he would

be great friends.

That day was quite fateful when the idea of someone named Marshall

was introduced to our family.

Little did we

know what was in store for us.

Weeks later, when school started, Corey and Marshall became friends,

as Lori predicted they would.

They were both a little quirky, odd (in a good way of course), funny,

strange, outrageously creative,

and the 2 of them together were

a couple of nut jobs.

Over the years, Marshall became an honorary member of our family,

we had many morning coffees together,

many bowls of

spaghetti carbonara,

and best of all,

we had many, many, many great times!

(and still do.)

I have been so lucky to know this most amazing, interesting, funny, whacky, great kid.

Happy Birthday Marshall...

with much love from

Strega Stitica

and the rest of the Friedman clowns...

click on photo to enlarge

IPhones and Fall

2009-11-04T08:19:00.000-08:00

I got an IPhone recently and I love it.

My kids said I would never be able to "get it."

Well, I proved them wrong. I always knew better,

I am highly techno-savvy

when I want to be. I can even text on it really fast with one finger,

all though my son says I need to learn the 2 thumb technique-ok, someday...

when I have nothing else better to do (ha!)

So I was led to

the IPhone app "Toy Camera" which is REALLY fun,

and takes pretty good Lomo-Holga

style photos.

I have been wandering around, shooting photos, but it really doesn't make sense to just

leave them in the computer so that my kids can look discover them in

the archives when I am dead someday. I will attempt to just share them and

make this blog post look like all

those other dreamy blogs that I wish I could emulate.

This first group is a series of decaying flowers, the last vestiages of late summer.

Halloween

I have always loved things that show up on sidewalks.

Something to do with the fact that they are somewhat discarded or

dismissed.

And for my last set of photos today:

What I saw on my walk this morning with

Ms. Dummy,

who is otherwise known as Sogni the Dog.

The end.

p.s. does anyone know why Blogger randomly defaults and

underlines

the text body for no reason?

2009-10-22T00:17:00.001-07:00

Return to Blogland and Hiking Boots as a New Lease on Life

2009-10-21T23:26:00.000-07:00

Procrastination and laziness

are one of my character

flaws.

I dropped off the blogging bandwagon when I returned from

Italy 2 months ago.

Every time I think, "oh I should blog..."

some other thought enters in like:

"oh, no, it's too late...YOU ARE WEEKS BEHIND!!!

how will you catch up now?"

Catch up to what?

So, when I couldn't answer that question to my satisfaction,

I decided, ok... just start anywhere.

So the big news today is:

I went to the foot doctor and FINALLY

after 4 months in the broken foot boot cast,

(yes, my foot has still not healed completely,

don't ask,

too long of a story...suffice to say,

I am 50% on the

road to recovery-I feel like I have worn the

Darth Vader boot

most of my life now)

to hiking boots and a metal brace yesterday-

HOORAY!

And

these cute Merrell Hiking Boots

even have FUSCHIA

accents-how good is that?

I have to say,

I had some help from above on this as

hiking boots

are normally a fashion nightmare

for this girl's aesthetic sensibilities.

If all goes well,

I will be sporting this

Northwest Great Outdoors Look

for another 2 months.

The Tumbleweed slips, dresses and Prada boots

are going to have to stay in the closet

just a little while longer...

photo courtesy of Tumbleweed Boutique

Slice of LIfe

2009-08-27T18:04:00.000-07:00

I was walking by one of my favorite courtyards in Cortona,

it is somewhat hidden behind a iron gate,

but not really and it has this amazing palm tree, a vintage red swing set,

and hydrangeas everywhere.

I never get tired of looking at it.

So I was passing by before pranzo hour (lunchtime) and noticed an elderly signore grilling meat in the courtyard. He didn't see me, so I ducked down and spyed on him through one of the gaps in the iron gate. There was something so adorable about him lovingly tending his grilled chicken.

I grabbed the camera from my purse and snapped away, incognito.

While he was tending to his job, his wife showed up and yelled at him,

"Stai bruciando il pollo! Muovilo!"

(You are BURNING the chicken! Move it away from the fire!)

He snapped a reply, appeared not to do anything

and waited for her to go back in the

building.

He then proceeded to move the grill shelf, chicken and all,

down one level as she had instructed, with an air of resignation,

which seemed very familiar to him.

He then puttered over to a panel in the wall,

washed his hands and disappeared inside.

Now, I watched this whole interaction and thought,

there is something so universal in this male-female dynamic,

and I have an idea of what that is...

How about YOU, what do you think?

(Hint in ITALIAN: "frustata")

Real LIfe in Italy; the TRUE Story; Part II

2009-08-09T22:59:00.000-07:00

You would think that with a broken foot

in a hill town in Italy I could manage to get back to posting

but somehow I have managed to stay busy and never get back.

So to recap the second part of the adventure of our first few days in Italy

here

So after find our car in Culo a Cristo and giving permission to send it to Macchina

Heaven, we set about on the second adventure of the day:

The Ospedale!

(Hospital)

As you may remember, my foot was very broken upon my arrival in Italy,

and in my typical fashion, I just kept going up and down these vertical inclines

of Cortona, complete with boot and crutches.

After a few days of this nonsense, I was getting a bit alarmed that my foot was hurting and swelling. (wouldn't you if you were a broken foot and your owner kept charging up and down the hills of Cortona?)

I thought I could get some peace of mind by sending a photo and an email to my doctor in Portland describing my symptoms, and she would tell me:

No worries, you are fine!

No such luck.

She responded by saying:

You might want to have that foot looked at.

Having someone "look at it" in Italy, requires extreme stamina and fortitude,

for that means entering the Italian Ospedale or Hospital.

Denys, our EVERYTHING person, transported us there and began the procedure of navigating

Ospedale Beauracracy.

After getting shuffled around to different admitting stations

we settled in for the wait.

Denyse yaks on her cell phone which is constantly ringing and Rob

pretends he knows Italian by perusing the Italian newspaper.

I instead, am becoming more anxious,as I watch the various doctors scurry by... I wonder what will be the outcome of this adventure to the Ospedale.

Did I really screw something up by charging up and down that Cortona
mountain?
Will I god forbid, have to have surgery in this place?
Have the bone reset?

Oh here it is:
Senora Friedman!
They are calling my number!
Here we go, wheeeeeeeeeee!
We enter the exam room.

But wait, who is this Dottore?
Oh phew, he's nobody. He wasn't MY dottore.
Here is the real Dottore!
And he has my xrays.
And what do you think the verdict will be?

Senora, you absolutely can NOT leave your house to run up and down

the mountain of CORTONA

You must stay OFF your foot, keep it in the boot always, and never,

EVER walk without the crutches.

You will run the risk of displacing the bone.

Your xrays are fine, but you MUST do as I say!

Oh dear, this is good news but Denyse, how will I ever manage to go shopping?

No problema Stacey, I will drive you everywhere!

And so it goes, another day in the Friedman Dolce Vita Real Life Italy..

But wait!!!

There was a problem with the xrays!

Another dottore has just arrived to give a second opinion!

It is that same dottore I saw lurking around before!

Senora, we highly advise that

you do not shop at all!

The debit you incur in your Italian bank account will only

run the risk of dislocating the osso (bone)

Complete bed rest is imperative, with absolutely NO shopping expeditions!

Your might also want to take a look at all those utility bills and silly bank statements

that have accumulated this past year

that your husband is unable to read due to his faulty command of the language...

This would BE VERY theraputic and aid your foot tremendously in its healing...

OK OK, VA BENE!!!!

CAPISCO!!! (I UNDERSTAND!!!)

that %#@!*% dottore!

Che stronzo!

(what an a____hole!)

Allright Allright, I'll stay off my feet!

Happy 18th Birthday Jesse!

2009-08-04T23:40:00.000-07:00

I can't believe Jesse is 18! I remember a walk I took with him in Forest Park and he was strapped into the baby bundler on my chest facing out with his little hands and legs flapping!

And about a million other memories...

Jesse, thanks for being my kid, I am so proud of you, you are such a loving, kind and caring person, I could not have asked for a better son...happy 18th birthday!!!

happy birthday sabrina!

2009-07-27T05:56:00.000-07:00

click on image to enlarge

my wonderful friend sabrina, who has been my pal through thick and thin for 18 years!

Yikes, does that make us REALLY OLD?

Have a wonderful Birthday!

Stay away from toilet bowl tutorials with your family today.

i love you!

xox

mrs. stacey

JOY!!!

2009-07-18T15:29:00.000-07:00

I just stumbled upon a great new blog called

Meet Me at Mikes.

Pip Lincolne, the author of this blog, is hosting a challenge

to post your favorite image or words that convery JOY.

I thought this seemed really fun game to play and scooted around in my photos...

what i came up with was : my little Balinese pal Dickey's expression

when I gave him the Wallpaper Portrait I had made for him.

pure JOY!!!

You can see the original post here

and click on the photo to enlarge.

Thank you for this game Pip!

Very inspiring!

Real Life in Italy; the TRUE Story

2009-07-16T17:13:00.000-07:00

When most people come to Italy, they quite often experience
an ideal Italian holiday, La Dolce Vita (Sweet Life)

sipping espressos on the piazza

meandering through rolling Tuscan vineyards and olive groves
with subsequent wine tasting
dining on fabulous food,
strolling down quaint little cobblestone streets,
gazing in wonder at Michelangelo's David in Florence,
drifting down the canals of Venice in a gondola...get the picture?
Life in Italy is really different for the Friedmans when we get here.

We ALWAYS end up with about 8 checked HUGE
bags, a few various carry ons, backpacks, etc.
Wonder who it all belongs to?
(my poor family begs me each time to pack lightly. I never do)
A scenic vista leaving the airport.

2 hours later:Cortona...
ok, I know it is beautiful isn't it?

But back to Friedman life in Italy...
The first day we got here, our good friend Denys
(who is a force of nature)
whisks us off to do tedious errands that go with the territory of
actually living here.
We own an 20 year old junker Citroen AX that has served us well these past 9 years since we have made Cortona our other home.
Denys was kind enough to let us leave it in her apartment parking lot for the 9 months
since we were here last.
Each year I pay the insurance premium on the car,
but this year I let it lapse ,
planning to get rid of the car this summer, and buy one from some friends.
An actual GROWN UP car with air-conditioning that can get up a hill with 4
people in the car without having everyone hop out while we
gun the car up the hill. AND
it was made in 2004, not 1988!!!!

At any rate, someone must have complained over the car
being parked for so long, so the Vigili (police) arrived and noted the
expired insurance sticker in the window.
Che bello!
PAYDIRT!
The Vigili love giving tickets for any infraction, and ticket they did.
(he looks happy, doesn't he?)
They somehow got a hold of Denys and informed her of our grave misdeed of the expired insurance.
She explained the situation and told them that she would take care of
paying the insurance premium in the morning.
"Va bene" (okay) they said.
No problema.
She paid the insurance premium the next day and
returned home to find the car gone.

Seems as though someone thought it would be fun to tow the car anyway
(we think the Vigili are in bed with the towing company=SCAM)
So, guess what?
We need to go and pick up the car on our first day in Italy.
Now you think it would be just down the road or something.
No.
It is over an hour away.
It is in the middle of nowhere, somewhere up north.
The Vigili told Denys where the car was,in some little town
in the mountains somewhere.
We naturally don't have a phone number, just a name of this outfit and a
supposed town.
We arrive at the town 1 1/2 hour later, there is nothing there
except about 10 houses
and certainly no towed cars sitting around.
We ask directions and get led to some other town.
No towed cars there either.
At this point we have been driving around in circles for about 2 hours.
We are really in the middle of
NOWHERE.
Denys is swearing up and down in a torrent of rapid fire Italian.
I understand most of it, and then I hear her say:
"Siamo nel Culo a Cristo!"
I burst out laughing pretty sure I understood her correctly.
Yup.
I did.
She was emphatically stating that we had arrived
at Christ's asshole, or in english:
the Middle of NOWHERE.
I translated for Rob, and he erupted in laughter, he kept muttering over and over,
Culo a Cristo, Culo a Cristo...
like a mantra,commiting it to memory
so that he can add this gem to his
Italian vocab list of approximately
50 assorted nouns and verbs that he has managed to retain
over the 10 years we have been coming here.
In Culo a Cristo.
I have to say, I like that alot better than our version:
Middle of NOWHERE.

But back to the car saga:
We finally find this place.
(I can't begin to count how many times hereI have been lost
or had some calamity that
seems unresolvable
but it does eventually work out...)
And there it is:
Our Beloved Citroen AX!

Denyse doing the paperwork to pay the ticket on the car.
350 euro.
Approximately $460.
An expensive adventure for the Friedmans.
Now our dilemma is this:
Do we take the Citroen back even though we will only need it a few more days until we get the new one from our friends? We can't sell it,

It isn't worth a nickel or even a euro.

We could give it to someone, but then you have to jump through more red tapes to pass the pink slip over to the new owner.
That would be another day of driving around Christ's Culo in the 900 degree heat standing in offices like this one, while other tourists
are enjoying the Italy pictured at the beginning of the post.
AND NO GUARANTEE we could even find someone to give it to
because the transfer of ownership costs about 300 euro or $400+.
hmmmmmmmmmm......
Our other option would be to leave it here with these guys,
pay 100 euro and they demolish it.
Finished.
Hmmmm. TOUGH CALL.

I think we will find another way to be generous in the world.
Ok signori.
It's yours.

Junk it!
Ciao Citroen!
By now we are all tired, sweaty, hungry.
I, of course, could keep going all day
with a piece of cheese for lunch, if that even.
But not these two.
Denys takes us to the nearest big town, Arezzo,
to eat at some little hole in the wall bar that her friend owns
that we would
NEVER know about.
It wasn't that glamour bar that was pictured at the start of this post,
but we had a great little lunch, (Denys and I had chick food, fresh tomato, tuna and mozzarella salad, Rob had guy food, PASTA, or CARBS)
homemade olive oil drizzled on warm focaccia bread,
an excellent caffe macchiato to finish it all off...
how much better does it get?
I'll take the Friedman Dolce Vita any day!

Hey, and it's only 2:00!
We have another Friedman Real Life Italian experience lined up for
this afternoon...stay tuned...