Distracted1

Day 2

Rested (fairly) and looking forward to our first experience with market day in Cortona we head downstairs to begin the day. Jeanette prepared a fantastic breakfast for us… eggs and bacon, grilled potatoes and tomatoes, prune crostata, fruit salad and of course a nice selection of cheeses, prosciutto and salami. Cappuccino for D. and a couple of espressos per mio and we are ready to shop.

 Saturday is market day in Cortona. We wander through the streets which are unrecognizable, crowded with trucks selling clothing, linens, leather goods and toys. There were trucks of fruits and vegetables and trucks that unfolded origami like into small meat and cheese shops. We were on a mission to stock up for the first night and morning in Greve. Cantaloup, cheese (creamy fresh peccorino that you can’t get in the US), a salami and some cherries from Puglia. (Not as good as Michigan cherries, but mighty tasty). We also got a quart of strawberries to put on breakfast. Donna used her super cool prize/shopping tote and we were off to gather our bags and be on our way.

One more stop at the Coop ‘hypermarket’ for eggs, milk, cereal and beverages and it was back on the road. 1-1/2 hours and one stop to eat lunch (porchetta sandwiches from the Cortona market) brings us to Borgo di Sugame, our home for the next week.

A working vineyard, Borgo di Sugame sits overlooking the Arno Valley. The view from our apartment is Chianti Classico! 

Behind the double glass doors with the white curtains hides the cellar with great oak barrels lining the stone walls. At the front of the cellar there are racks of their wines. The best part is the cellar is always open and you are welcome to just take a bottle and mark it down on a sheet on the desk and they’ll add it to your tab. Would this work in the US? Hmmmm… 

Two whimsical dogs, Pinto and Luna add just the perfect pinch of goofyness to the picture postcard setting. Pinto greeted us on our arrival by sitting down in front of the car as we drove in the drive but seemed to know where to stop us as it was right at the door of our apartment, clever fellow. Luna, the victim of an unfortunate accident on the road, bounds up and down on her three remaining legs, ears flapping and tail wagging in uninhibited joy. We all can a learn a little from Luna.

Vardas and Nelsons arrive and we all settle in for the week. We sign out our first bottle of wine and enjoy appetizers of cheese and salami from the Cortona market. Then we are off to Dudda for dinner. Now, don’t blink or you’ll miss Dudda, All of a church, a tabachino/bar/restaurant, a tiny market and some houses on either side of the road for about 200 feet.

The food was outstanding. D. had meatballs in pomodoro sauce and sauteed spinach (the lady loves her spinach). I had the grilled, sliced steak with herbed potatoes and a plate of grilled peppers, zucchini and eggplant.

Catrina, one of the owners Borgo di Sugame has told us to expect rain all week. …

Tomorrow off to Lucignano for the spring flower festival/battle!

Back in the old country again. It took us 13 years but we now celebrate our 10^th anniversary of falling in love with Italy.

After a remarkably quiet, on time (even early) nearly comfortable (but not quite of course because it was still economy) flight, we picked up our Opel Astra at the newly remodeled, roomy and almost well run car rental office in the Rome airport. We were here and on our way.

The 13 years since we started making this trip hit hard on the drive to Cortona though and exhaustion came crashing down like a ton of feather pillows making it necessary to stop twice in the 2-1/2 hour drive to rest a and revive a little. What? I can’t stay awake for 24 hours and drive the last 2 of it in an unfamiliar car in a foreign country without having to rest? Bah.

Cortona rewarded us heartily beginning with a warm welcome from Jeanette at our favorite B&B. The little town was bustling with activity on a lovely spring day.

After a restorative slice of pizza and a short nap we cleaned ourselves up and wandered out for a wonderful dinner at La Grotta. Grilled lamb, veal scallopini in lemon and herbs, sauteed spinach with garlic and lemon, eggplant and cheese souffle and spinach ricotta gnocchi in pomodoro sauce… we were fed and happy. As we left the restaurant we found ourselves in the midst of an unexpected pageant in honor of the patron saint of Cortona, Santa Margarita.

There were drum corps and trumpets from all six contrata (neighborhoods) of Cortona that converged on the Piazza della Republica, There were fires and speeches and the life of Santa Margarita was played out on the steps of the municipal hall. Representatives of the 6 contrata made contributions and paraded around the piazza all in full medieval attire… from babes in arms to the ladies and gentlemen, from the drummers and archers to the mayor. Check out the Drummin1 video.

In 13 years we had never seen a festa or a pageant or whatever in any of the perhaps 50 towns that we have visited.

It was a great way to begin our stay in Italy and end our first day.  

After an unusually chaotic and intense morning of unloading 60 some school buses of some 3000 elementary school children and then loading them again after a 1 hour version of the Nutcracker ballet, before going to the office to prepare for the evening’s full performance, I was hungry.

In a world of super sized consumerism and marketing and corporate profits, I am usually reluctant to patronize the processed, fast food pig troughs. But I was exhausted and starving and didn’t have time to sit down to real food. (And sometimes… gads… one just gets a craving.) I entered one of the burger behemoths and ordered the signature sandwich “meal”… small. The young, squeaky voiced girl at the register told me that there was two for one and asked if I would like another burger. “Another one?” I asked wondering who could eat two of the things? And didn’t I order SMALL? Doesn’t that maybe infer that I probably wouldn’t want TWO signature burgers? “Yes, you get a free one… do you want the free one?” “Uh, no thanks.” She then looked past me over my shoulder and said “You could give it to a homeless…” I turned to follow her look and quickly scanned the room. College students, a couple of construction workers, a very out of place person in a nice suit and very evenly spaced throughout the dining area were people who were pretty obviously the individuals she was referring to. Most of them were watching our conversation. It dawned on me that this probably wasn’t the first time she had had this conversation that day. “I gave one to Jerry over there about an hour ago, but Walter might like one… oh wait, somebody gave Walter one a couple of hours ago…” I turned back and said, “I don’t know… can I just have the second burger and leave it here with you and you give it to the person you think needs it?” “Ok” she said, “I could just wait and give it to Jerry later, he’ll probably be ready for another one in a little while…“ She turned away to collect my order. I was struck by her efforts to help these people, by her thoughtfulness and the fact that she knew their names. I’m sure there were very few people who did. When she came back with my ‘meal” I thanked her for making the effort to help these people. And even more, to help me help these people. She didn’t have to explain it to me; she didn’t have to suggest I give the free burger to someone who really would appreciate it. It’s too easy to look past these people who need, it’s too easy to just dismiss the young person behind the counter at the fast food place as an underachiever. Of all the things I didn’t expect from such an establishment, such as good, healthy food, I certainly didn’t expect to be touched by such simple goodness and so tangibly by the spirit of Christmas.

There are good people doing good things all around us. You don’t need to build a hospital or a university to make a difference in the world… the little things can mean a lot to someone with simple needs.

Italy is calling, a lighthearted flirting melody with a musical accent. She waves olive wood smoke under my nose and wine.
She calls with the sounds of leather soles on ancient stone streets and pigeons flushed to wing by children dashing through piazzas, arms waving, heads thrown back, eyes heavenward and voices released in joy.
I reach for the salami and olives in my fridge, like for a life ring; as I drift on waves of warm memories and the shoreline of tomorrow and working for a living commitments, fade from view…