A return to California

A work project took me and the Stoic One unexpectedly back to the United States for about 9 days.  We have just returned to Italy. It was fasicnating to try to see the Bay Area, a place that so many Italians love, through their eyes.  It became increasingly more difficult to do this as we fairly quickly fell into the "old" way of seeing things. Here are some early observations about the Bay Area in California.

Let's start with something important, the attire in Silicon Valley.  Everyone there looks like they are going to or coming from the gym.  This is not "casual dress".  This is a work out uniform. Midcalf spandex, white work out top. If Italian women are going to the gym, they wear sparkles on their shoes, shirts, shorts. ...I know, I know, how many go to the gym and actually sweat?  Not too many.  Anyway, someone told me that spandex has become the new jeans. The spandex people wear no sparkles, in case you were wondering.

The people I saw around Stanford looked, young, confident, and athletic. Probably because of all of that gym time.  They do seem like a new master race with their muscled calves, their shoulders back, chins up and firm jaws. The men and women look formidable. It is impossible to get their attention when they are jogging. They are so tuned into their exercise and their technology, music, cell phones or whatever, that I can not imagine what it would take to interrupt them. There is no time for a chit chat along the jogging trail that is for sure.  People don't stop and greet each other, with hi, come va? This exercise is a serious business. The American confidence and athleticism is truly remarkable compared to people I see every day in Umbria.  Sometimes I sense an Italian weary "savoir fare" which is much in contrast to  the brash confidence that Americans display.  The "can do" American spirit  is reflected in all of their outward appearance, their clothes, gait, eye contact.

At a stop light, I saw a young male jogger without a shirt on.  It was shocking to see.  Nude torsos are seen only at the beaches in Italy.  As a matter of fact, there is now a law in Italy that says in beach cities you must cover up if you go into town. No bikinis of nude torsos are allowed in shops or restaurants. I had forgotten that men in California run around half naked. The women that I saw all had on work out tops on.  Their running shoes looked like serious affairs; sturdy, brightly colored and new. (No sparkles.)

As much as I have written about the lack of money motivation in Umbria, I have actually complained about this, watching the flip side was not pleasant either.  In Silicon Valley, it is basically about the money all the time.  This focus on money takes many different approaches, i.e. certain questions you would never hear asked in Italy. "What start up you are going to and how much money you are going to make?" is one. Comments about the lack of money are also prevalent, i.e. working at the university is NOT a place that you are going to make money.  This would go without saying in Italy. People talk about the Google, Apple, Facebook employees and how much money they have made, and how they are inappropriately spending it.  The comments about them are said with both awe and resentment.

 I have a friend who lives in Atherton, the richest of the Silicon Valley cities.  The house next door to her was torn down and they are putting up a $12 million dollar "spec" house, meaning they are building this house without a buyer in mind. At that price point you would think that would be a risk, but no one seems worried. Stories abound about this or that person paying millions in cash for some real estate property.  It is as if the money isn't real, like it is some Monopoly money, which maybe it is.  In Italy money is very real.  It is a scarce resource and is hoarded rather than spent.  Conspicuos consumption is not a concept that has taken over the Italians. My Italian teacher told me that Italians are suspicious of rich people because they think the money came from nefarious means, in Italy you know what that means.  Anyway, a poor person here is not looked down up.  They are regarded as someone who is honest but down on their luck.  Rich people, particularly people who spend lavishly are very much in the suspect category.

Then there is the age thing.  I never feel as old as I do in California.  All of this emphasis on youth, working out, staying in shape is borderline obsessive.  It is ok to be older if you are "trim". Let me say I haven't been trim since I was 10! Someone asked me don't the old people get segregated in Italy? Don't they all group together away from the rest of the population? Uh.....no. They don't. Old people here are included just as young children are included. There isn't a negative value judgment assigned to being old.  You are just old, or older that the others.

The last question that I was asked about my life in Italy was this..."Are you accepted there?  Are you integrated into the community?"  Intersting question isn't it?  What is the opinion behind that question? Am I treated like someone who has been here forever, whose family has lived in the same place for 300 yeas? Of course not. I am American living in a type of exile here in Italy.  It is quite frankly a mystery to people in Umbertide why I am doing this, but they try to include me in every way that they know how.  I have never felt discriminated against, only discriminated in favor of...it is an odd thing.

Ok.  I good thing about California that I can't do here. I ate Japanese food at 5:00 in the afternoon.  It was shocking that the restaurant was open and I could eat. The Japanese food was great.  I also ate Peruvian food, also excellent and Thai food, again very good.  None of these would I eat here in Umbria.

I was asked if I had it to do again, would I?  I have only been here 6 months, so not really a fair time for an assessment, but my answer is yes.  What else would I do? I fell in love with the country, the food the people, and I have not fallen out of love.  I felt totally at home in California.  I understood the ways of the natives. I was understood, and I understood others.  But at about day 5, I started thinking about my piazza.  I wondered what the nuns who live in the cloister across from me were doing.  I wondered how Manuele's father was dealing with his new diagnosed diabetes.  I wondered how the garden behind me was doing.  What vegetables had they planted.  In summary, I missed my home.

California is beautiful.  A view of the Pacific Ocean from Half Moon Bay.

China town in San Francisco.  A truly unique place, that you can not find in Italy.

Another version of men playing cards in the piazza.

No I didn't wait in the long line to take the cable car.  I took the picture just for you.

California was beautiful.  If the streets are not really paved with gold, the real estate is made of gold. I liked being there but it wasn't home.

Ciao.
Susan

Spring

Spring has finally arrived in Umbria. The farms are tilled and the seeds are sown.  The fruit trees and the redbud trees are blooming, and lilac trees are in full bloom. The irises are beginning to show their purple colours, and wisteria is clinging to the barns up in the hills. I love spring.

I was born and raised in Michigan.  As a child I remember the wonder of spring.  Finally, after the snow, the sleet, the ugly melting ice upon the roads, spring would come.  It seemed to me then, as it does now, a true miracle. Having lived in California for 30 years, I forgot the joy of this season.  I used to think that autumn was my favorite, but I had never experienced an Italian spring.  I wish all of you could be here, to see the valiant irises, that have survived the long, cold winter.  It is a true joy.

Of course food is a big part of all that we do.  We have a guest with us, Justin Sinclair, who is off to England for an internship as a cook at a 1 star Michelin restaurant.  We had to show off Umbrian food for him before he left.  Here is today's desserts.

This is what is looked like when we were finished.

So sad, the after picutre.  This restaurant, Antica Forziere, is our favorite show off place.  We all really enjoyed it and moaned as we left.

Survival Italian Style

It has been a while since I have posted, and I wanted you all to know that I am alive and well. The Stoic One left....to go to Califronia for a memorial service.  It was the right thing to do, maaaa (but) I was left alone for a week to tend to Luca and the house.  He left me 2 pages of instructions, swear to god.  The first page was taken up with instructions for the care and feeding of Luca. These are some of his instructions:
"Upon retiring for the night, Mr. Luca..."who writes like this?  Retiring for the night? Mr. Luca?  OK, on to the washing machine advice, one of the favorite topics on this blog.
"Load clothes into the washing machine trhough the door."  You can see why it took 2 pages.  He also left instructions for the dryer, the dishwasher, the coffee maker and the heat.  We survived.

The Italians were very alarmed that the Stoic One was leaving and checked in on me hourly.  What was I doing? What was I going to eat for the next meal? How was Luca? Did I remember to feed him? As you can see, Luca survived quite well.  Really, he always has the worried look on his face!

Verona

The Stoic One and I said that we would take one over night trip a month away from Umbertide, in order to explore the country.  We believed that one of the joys in living in Italy full time would be our ability to easily travel throughout Italy and Europe.  The implementation of these travel plans is not as easy as you might think for two retired people, who have no other commitments except for watching Luca and studying Italian.  These 2 factors have proven to be more time consuming that we thought.  There is as well, a type of indolence that comes over us in our little town, tmaking it difficult to get the gumption to get up and go! We are trying our best to keep up with our monthly travel commitments (I know this sounds like a chore, but it isn't really.) Anyway, this month, we chose to visit Verona. We had never been there before, and it is an easy fast train from Florence, so it seemed like a good choice for the month of March. We spent 3 days on this visit and walked our little feet off.  We loved the town.

Verona....how do I begin?  It is a city in northeastern Italy with a population of around 250,000.  It is the 12th largest city in Italy, right behind Venice, which I am sure really ticks them off.  It is an old city with Roman ruins, interesting churches, and wonderful shopping and people watching.
In addition, there is the whole Romeo and Juliet thing, which the town does its best to market and maximize.  I have heard that you can sleep in Juliet's bed for 5,000 E. a night! Below is a picture of the famous balcony. Does it take away from its allure to know that it was actually added in 1936?  It is astonishing how real fiction can become in our minds. The power of stories should never be underestimated.

There have been many odd traditions that have developed around Juliet. People write her love letters, ( a topic of a very mediocre film) they rub the breasts on her statue expecting to receive good fortune in love. I am more than a little suspicious of this breast rubbing ritual!

Then there are the locks.

These locks are attached to a gate near the supposed Juliet house.  They are quite colorful, and I suppose they are a symbol of undying love.  That is a better explanation than thinking once we are in love we are locked together with no hope of escape!  Thank god for divorce, even in this country.

So off we went to discover the allure of this so called city of Love.

Verona is filled with bridges, and yes, lovers.

The river Adige runs through the middle of Verona, and the Stoic One loves photos of bridges, so here are a few more.

(Bridge without the lovers)

Verona is famous also for its Roman arena.  (Apparently the only Coluseum is located in Rome, but arena means the same thing.)  Italians being what they are, they use the arena every summer for their operal season.  I was sorry we were too early for opera, and it is definitely on our things to do next time.

Here is the arena.

It was originally built in 30 AD and was covered with white and pink limestone.  At its peak, it could hold 30,000 people. An earth quake in 1117 knocked down most of its outer wall, which was then "repurposed" in other buildings in the city.

There is of course, great food here.  Pastries made only in Verona and only this time of year.

Because spring is here, there were newly arrived fruit cups in the market.

Although there are many exceptional historical sites to visit, the Stoic One and I are both a little ADD so we pick one church, rent the video guide computer (which are excellent) and try to retain as much historical and theoligcal data as we can.

In Verona we picked the church of Sant'Anastasia. It was started in 1280 and finished in 1400.  Only 120 years to build.  Can you imagine Americans being that patient to see something done?  Anyway, it was origianally a Domenican church, Gothic style.  I was mesmerized by the inside.

For a little humor, or not, there are two statues at the front of the church that represent the burden that was placed on the townspeople in order to build the church.

Such honesty for the church to include!  It was somehow on this trip, that I let go of all my "church" expectations in visitng churches.  Being a former chaplain, I have always viewed these churches as houses of God and was annoyed at how unspiritual they are.  I finally go it, I know, I know, after only 60 years, that the point is the preservations of art and architecture for a point of time in history and only the Catholic Church was able to do that for us in Italy.  Ok, feels better to look at it as a museum like the arena.

Now about that people watching.

What was she thinking?  I have no idea.  I can tell you she was Italian, as if you had a doubt.

Fantastic high end shops.  The city seems very wealthy.  Well maintained.  Minimal grafitti.  It reminded me a bit of Disney's idea of an Italian town.  Lovely but....a far cry from my Umbria.  Do you think I am getting overly attached?

They also had some great dogs out on the walks. What fun.

Love the color coordination!

Waiting for spring to stay

I have read about the winters in Umbria; the relentless wind, the grayness that starts with morning fog and lingers until dusk. Days without sun that produces a cold that seeps into the stones of the medieval towns and does not leave until the summer heat shines a bit of warmth into their dank depths. Although it hasn't been that cold this winter, it has been gray, windy and damp.  Only the pigeons who waddle across the tile roof of the church across the piazza seem unaffected by the dour weather.  For the rest of us, it is has been "duro" hard.

Then unexpectedly, spring sashays in like the village flirt, and I am unsure if she will stay or is only teasing me.  Today, it seems as if spring might really become more than my part time lover.  When the fruit trees blossom, the Italian farmers become active with hoes in hand, tractors, saws, it is a menagerie of activity. They seem to think the season has changed.

Spring also brings in new food, different festivals and joyous treats. Really too beautiful to eat, but oh so lovely to contemplate.

I think maybe spring will stay a while this time.

Florentine memories

When I was 14, in 1960, my mother thought it would be a good idea to send me to Italy to meet the Italian side of my family.  She was a southerner, (born and raised in east Tennessee) and family bloodlines and heritage were very important to her. I was thrilled to be able to go and so began my life long love affair with Italy.

I had the great fortune to land with a family whose father was from the same area of Italy as my father, the Veneto. Franco and Beppe (my cousin) were childhood friends and it was through this connection that I was sent to this family in Florence.  The mother, Vanna, had been from Florence for many generations.  I spent 3 months in Italy that summer.  I think because I was so young and so impressionable, my memories of that time are some of the clearest memories that remain in the forefront of my addled mind.

Fast forward to this week end.  After many years, I took a leap of faith, Googled the family, and was reconnected with the oldest daughter,  Alessandra, who is now a guide in Florence.  My sense of anticipation of reconnecting with Alessandra was met with an equal sense of dread, that she wouldn't remember me, that my memories of my attachment to the family were overblown, that my fantasy would turn out to be an adult reality of irrelevance. Interstingly the Stoic One was persistent with telling me to follow up. I finally sent the email and got an immediate response.  Of course, she said, she remembered me.  I was part of the family and she had missed me. My sense of relief and gratitude at her reaction is indescribable.  I felt once again "at home" here.

This week end, we went off to visit Florence to look for some household items and we had dinner with Alessandra and Remo.  Alessandra's brother had put all of the family photos on a web site, and we went through them together.  Strange how satisfying and dissatifying a photo can be.  I saw Vanna's smiling face, but all I wanted to do was reach through the computer, hug her, tell her that I landed in Italy and I was stilly studying my verbs.  Maybe she knows, but probably not. I also found out that a young boy I dated quite seriously as a teen ager had died 15 years ago of cancer. It is so strange to grieve for someone in the past.  After I married, I did not keep up with the young man, and frankly, had not thought of him for many years.  Why did the knowledge of his death affect me at such a deep level?

Later in the week, I received a letter from an old friend, not quite a boyfriend, but one of those men in my life that I could have followed on to another path.  He too, like me, is retired.  I have received yearly Christmas letters from him, (I think this is truly an American thing) and I had not gotten his card this year because of our move.  I sent him a Happy New Year card, and he responded with that sense of relief that one has when you find out that the person isn't dead, only misplaced in the contact file. More memories coming over me, of choices, roads not followed, sliding doors of trains not taken.  Il destino.

A ruckus over 20% tax

There are many new things to learn about living in Italy, and one of them is how to assimilate into, and make sense of, our place in the ex-pat community.  Ex-pat is a word many object to, in that it implies a social class that differenciates ex-pats from immigrants. Although I am aware of the class distinction, for clarity I will use the word ex-pats.  So. Our ex-pat community here is mainly made up of English people who have lived in Umbria for a long time.  Most of them live out in the country, up in the hills above the Niccone Valley.  They are a fairly tight community and pass on information to one another, provide security warnings, and generally keep one another apprised of the events that are happening in the community.

We are on the peripheral of this group, not being English, not living up in the hills with kids in school, and not living here long.  This past week we were included in a bit of a wild fire ruckus in the ex-pat community regarding taxes. It seems that the former prime minister, Letti, before his departure from office, passed a law that said that any money transferred in from outside of Italy, would be subjected to a 20% withholding tax that the bank would impose and collect on the wire transfer. The reasoning of the government was that there are many ex-pats who are not paying money on investments made abroad, and it would be the job of the bank to withhold the 20% and then people would have to document at the end of the year, that the money should not have been with held.  Hope you followed that.  The US has a trade agreement with Italy that we are not subject to double taxation. So if we pay 20% capital gains tax on our investments in the US we should not have to pay the 20% here.  Now a big however, if you are a resident of Italy, which the Stoic One will be this year, you must pay Italian tax, and then deduct that from your US tax.  Oh, mamma mia...one can see the cost of accountants going up now.  Everyone was in a tizzy about this.  The Italians said, the law will never change, you will have to pay your 20% and they will never give you your money back in your life time.  I believed them.

So I called the best financial advisor in the world, Will Wolf (WilliamWolf@MyInsightAdvisor.com)
and asked him about all of this.  We had an hour of financial therapy. I felt so much better talking to him.  Then this morning, miracle of miracles, the Italians "suspended" the law requiring the 20% hold back.  We live in a strange, global world.

Speaking of strange...

 Cigarette smoking reducing fertility should be the least of the negative effects, but I guess this is more scary than lung cancer!