In Love with France, At Home In Italy

This posting should come under the heading of "Unmentionables." I've been sitting on it since my first encounter with an Italian toilet, which means many flushes ago. Most of us are creatures of habit who have been using a toilet for quite a while. But Italian toilets hold many pitfalls for unsuspecting Americans. They require a certain flexibility of position that does not come easily to everyone. There is a definite learning curve to using them. This being Italy, where style is king, Italian toilets come in many different designs. Regardless of the toilet's shape or style (the one our son and daughter-in-law chose is actually square--perfect for those with square posteriors), the Italian toilet requires the successful user to adapt to a position that may well be unfamiliar. The leaning-back-to-rest-on-your-laurels approach is NOT going to work. Have a square posterior? No problem! Yes, here in Italy, we have designer toilets that cater to all shapes and size...

I will be heading back to the States soon to start another academic year. How do I know this? I have two pillboxes that I fill at the same time, which in this timeless place, is a reminder of what day of the week it is. Having just found one of these conveniently labeled pillboxes empty, I know that today is Monday, and that on Saturday I will be heading back to one of my other countries. So the Countdown to that transition has begun. On the theme of time flying, my college roommate and friend for almost 5 decades just turned 65, which must mean that I am not the spring chicken I like to think I am. Even the letters are wearing out on this poor old pillbox. Fortunately they are raised, so that even after my eyes go, I will be able to tell what day it is. My original Mephisto sandals that have been worn day in and day out in every season, however, look even worse. But they are tough customers, having been rebuilt several times and survived having the main strap eaten by my dog...

A TWIST ON THE PROUST QUESTIONNAIRE Q:What's your favorite Italian purchase? A:My beaded curtain To me, this looks like a shimmering veil of Jujubes. And if you are too young to know what a Jujube candy is, even though I only like to imagine myself a Principessa, your teeth probably have far fewer crowns than mine. My friend who is married to an Italian and who heads Italian Language Program where I teach said she loved this photo because "it SCREAMS Italy." Q:How do you spend your time in the Umbrian countryside? A:Cupping bugs with a plastic Michelin cup and a postcard from one of my French students.(see July post, "Jiminy Cricket No Longer Lives Here") Q:We understand that you write a blog called “In Love with France, At Home in Italy.” What is your work station like? A.We invested in some beautiful old furniture well before our former ruin was renovated. At the dealer’s, I was looking with curiosity at an old, iron, mirrored wash stand that was mi...

"How many languages does he speak?", she gushes, admiringly, as if this were a matter of the Foreign Language Fairy Godmother waving her magic wand and intoning, in her own inscrutable language, "bibbity, bobbity, boo!" The true answer: "he speaks a number of them, none very correctly, but nobody seems to mind, especially not here in Italy." I am going to stick my neck out and say something outrageous like, "some people have the foreign language-learning gene, while others do not." Now that could be high sacrilege, coming as it does from a French prof. who has been reinventing herself as an Italian. But I am not suggesting that to be missing that gene condemns anyone to befuddlement. That is entirely up to the would-be speaker. The foreign-language gene can only get you so far. To speak a new language takes a willingness to risk making mistakes and the energy and discipline to observe and mimic native speakers, to read and watch even the ...

 In March, I put up a post called "ACRES OF PLUMS!:NOW WHAT?  Between last summer and this, while nobody was looking, the tree that supplied most of those gorgeous, rose-colored plums bit the dust. But not to worry. As you can see, the other plum tree, La Regina Claudia, with her yellow fruit beloved by so many Umbrians, went into overdrive. Here are this summer's royal plums, waiting for the Plum Fairy to wave her magic wand and do something with them....QUICKLY!   This is how they looked earlier, during their branch-busting phase. NEXT ON THE "TOO MANY" HIT PARADE: TOO MANY PEARS Pears usually come in the fall, well after I have left, but these came in June--go figure! This is the little tree that sent me googling "too many pears" in search of what to do with this bounty. NEXT UP ON THE "TOO MANY" HIT PARADE:THE EARLY CROP OF FIGS (THIS YEAR, EXCEPTIONALLY EARLY)  In truth, the way I gobble up figs, it is ALMOST impossible to ...

Figs, gorgonzola, zuke blossoms, onions, fresh salvia & basil, crema di balsamico and a pizza oven Put'em together and whaddaya got ? Bibbitty, Bobbity, Boo? It may look like Madagascar, But it tasted a whole lot better. Just as I was sadly realizing that we are down to the wire in terms of our summer time here, N runs in with his arms full of figs--luscious, plump, and juicy.  This is the first time I have been here to taste the fall fig crop, which has arrived early, making a great combo with my slightly later-than-usual departure for the States. This has been a goofy year in terms of the cycle of our trees, with early pears and even apples--crops that I had been longing to taste, a dream that has been hard to realize for someone on an academic calendar. As I anticipate having to pack up and leave, the song from Camelot keeps ringing in my ear: If ever I could leave you It wouldn't be in springtime Knowing that in spring I'm  Bewitched by you so  Oh no, n...

In working on my "clutter" issues in Cognitive Behavior Therapy (CBT), I was shocked when my supportive therapist did not "buy" my romantic explanation for why I find it so hard to get rid of things. I described that tendency as: "I see the poetry in everything." I was shocked and dismayed to hear him say the equivalent of "Poetry Shmoetry! That's hoarding!"  Now even I knew that to be a hoarder did not sound as nice as any of the euphemisms I assigned to my clutter-producing behavior. These included: I am economical (this is the fine-motor-coordinated 3-yr.old kid who got extra points for cutting the napkins in half to save $) I come from a family that is missing the throw-away gene. I have such an empathetic relationship to history that I need to save everything in case there's another Depression or Holocaust Maybe that___(fill in blank with any useless object, here) will be valuable some day Save it for the Tag Sale (not...

1. IS LIVING IN THE ITALIAN COUNTRYSIDE A UNIQUELY EFFECTIVE FORM OF THERAPY? Today is the first day of my stay-cation. The rest of the gang has flown the coop, leaving me all alone--except for the bugs and the plants--in my isolated super-nest. Although for me, all transitions have usually been bumpy (or worse), I am feeling good about this one. I tried Cognitive Behavior Therapy (CBT) to work on 3 things to which I assigned the acronym, ACT:problems with AUTHORITY, CLUTTER, and TRANSITIONS, and even well after the fact, I seem to be doing better with all of them. That did not prevent me, however, from staying up doing email until a ridiculous 1:45 AM, in anticipation of the kids' 4AM departure. Or stocking up with enough food and water for many more than the two weeks I expect to be here by myself. Or taking one "test-drive" back with U just to be sure that, in a pinch, I could drive if I had to. 2. A "LIGHT-BULB" MOMENT When alone, I am forced to r...

How would you like that, ma'm? Saignant? Au point? Ou carbonise? I do a lot of experiments with our pizza oven. Some turn out better than others. I think you will be able to see the difference. Well, at the time, it seemed like a good idea to leave these formerly gorgeous vegetables in all night. But the next morning....not so much! LEARNING TO USE YOUR NEW PIZZA OVEN (AND HOW TO FIND OUT WHO THE REAL "FURBI"/SLY PEOPLE ARE) STEP ONE: Get someone who really knows how to use a pizza oven to teach you the fine points. Famer G is your man. As it turns out, to do it right, you need WAY more wood than you think. And as Farmer G is piling on the wood like there's no tomorrow, maybe you have a moment's pause when you realize, "Hey, wai t a minute! Isn't he the same guy who's selling you that wood?" That moment of doubt came during a period when I was just starting to learn the meaning of that all-important Italian word, ...

Looks like paradise and a great place to have to oneself for a few weeks, no? Well, it pretty much is. But only by day. The other night I went down to turn off the light in the kitchen only to find that it had been taken over by flying and crawling aliens. They were everywhere, and I had to jump out of my delicious torpor and into a killing frenzy. Last year’s invasion of the flying ants had resumed! They had made an initial appearance the other day, but I had taken what I thought were definitive extreme measures to reclaim my turf. (Just goes to show that the Ancient Greeks did not have a monopoly on hubris.) I had removed all temptations from the counter and ferreted them out of the most unexpected places. I think the other members of the family might be surprised to know that they are not the only ones in the house to love coffee. The biggest swarm of them was on top of and under the machine. But there were some tea-totalers, too, who had decided to set up residence in the...