Italy Rules - Expanded

Spaghetti with Clams - Le Marche

What a wonderful and sometimes intense set of responses from my previous post - The Italy Rules. I want to take a little time today to expand and expound on some of my thoughts and provide further insight into traveling in Italy.

1. Italy Guides - Here is my short list of who I would travel with and why in Italy.

• The Rome Digest - This new and wonderful consortium of talented Rome guides includes my dear friend Katie Parla, who is my champion of all things Roman (pork, gelato, beer, wine, art, history, and life) If you are going to spend time in Rome, and you should, let the Rome digest draw a map for you

• Venice - Row Venice Nan McIlroy is one of the most knowledgeable people in Italy regarding living life, eating well, and getting out on the water. Don't pay 200 euro for a snooze on a gondola. Pay less and get out there and learn to do it yourself. Easily one of the greatest experiences I have ever had in Italy

• Tuscany - Judy Francini will cook with you and teach you what it means to truly experience life in Tuscany. Reach out to her. She has been cooking successfully for her Italian husband for years. She will teach you how to impress anyone.

• Puglia - this is a bit biased but I can vouch for the unbeatable quality of Southern Visions Travel. Antonello Losito leads this superior company leading the most authentic excursions into Italy's tastiest region. From 1 day to 1 month, these guys are amazing

• Le Marche - Mariano Pallottini - the best guides are sometimes not guides. For this truly under-the-radar region no one can show visitors the ropes like Mariano. Please tell him I sent you.

• Travel for Teens - If you would like to send your son or daughter on one of the most amazing experiences to be had. I strongly suggest using Travel for Teens. Managed and operated by a group of passionate, intelligent, and experienced men and women, TFT is the leader in volunteer and cultural travel in Italy for students. Ask for Ned or Nick and your young adult will be blown away

• For other Italian regions I have friends of friends and would be happy to do some research for you

2. Fashion - Italians for the most part are some of the finest dressers in the world. My initial post was not meant to imply they were not good as a whole. However, shitty fashion is a worldwide epidemic. I am guilty of lazy fashion choices more frequently than I care to admit. When Italians dress badly, they do it in typically grandiose furor. There is a store in Monopoli, Puglia called "Banana Store." I assume this is some sort of knockoff of Banana Republic as the clothes tend towards the tighter side, made for people with fine and youthful figures. However, the patterns are simply gaudy and the colors never really seen outside of an old Vegas casino. The parade of muffin-top women parading about in Banana Store attire, 2-3 sizes too small is rough on the eyes. I am confident that while conservative and boring in dress, those of us not up to the task of Valentino, Armani, Dolce and G, etc. can rest easy so long as the Banana Store is in business (and the many stores just like them in the bedroom communities up and down the boot).

[caption id="attachment_2138" align="alignnone" width="400"] The Castle of my Dreams[/caption]

3. Italian Driving - While the idea of driving in Italy scares the hell out of many American visitors, driving in Italy is actually about 20% less likely to result in a fatality than driving in the USA. Italians have very strict rules of the road for highway driving. There is absolutely no passing on the right and tractor trailers must drive only in the right lane and only at a lower speed than auto traffic (which is posted clearly on the back of the truck). While parking rules, signal regulations, and almost any rule inside a city zone are frequently fudged, the rules for the highway are followed in most cases and make for a much more predictable driving experience. I really enjoy driving in Italy and feel safer than I do driving in a place like Houston, for example. Italian bus drivers are simply extraordinary drivers. Watching them drive, gesture, smoke, chat, and flirt all without breaking a sweat taking a Pullman down a narrow alley or into the bowels of a vineyard is simply art.

4. Hope - Italy is in very desperate financial straits at the moment (like 20 years ago) and there is a grim light being cast upon the country in regards to its future. Many young people are jobless and without prospects for a decent wage. Government inefficiencies, crime, and corruption siphon enormous amounts of the country's GDP. Life goes on, and sometimes beautifully, in spite of this austere hell. My comments about this are not intended to suggest this is due to a lack of creativity in the Italian people. However, I will say it is up to the citizens of this important country to right the ship. Defeat is an ugly thing to witness when it comes at the hands of giving up. I believe in the Italians I know and love. I believe in the resiliency of this very talented people. I am an advocate for Italy when it seems there are few natives who are. Beat me up for my opinions on fashion, food, and driving, but do not accuse me of diminishing the chances of Italy because I describe life as chaotic. The Universe was born from chaos and so was the Renaissance. I return to Italy over and over not because I need a food fix, or a chance to play in the fields of folly and fantasy. I return to Italy year-after-year to experience living in a primordial space. I come to Italy to argue without offense, to dine with challenging people, and to grow as a person. I see the world more freshly every time I go and I have never lost my fervor for the peninsula in 20+ years of travel.

5. More Two Week Itineraries - This is where I am going to have some fun. Take a look at these if you want to explore some trips in the way of The Blissful Adventurer.

• Piedmont/Liguria - surprisingly this tremendously rich and hard-working region is not always on the traveler radar. Stay in the towns near Alba and explore Italy's finest red wines in Barolo and Barbaresco. These guys eat unpasteurized cheese any time of day. They have amazing local cows whose grass-fed meat is a dream served raw, and the prices to stay in amazing places like Villa Tiboldi are wonderfully cheap. If one must see the Cinque Terre (thanks again Rick Steves) then why not hike through there, then finish with pure luxury in Piedmont.

• Sicily - 2 weeks is such a brief time to experience the island which a friend once referred to as a "continent". Food: unreal, Wine: near the top on the planet these days. Weather: nearly tropical at times, People: alive and getting more alive with the growth of the economy (many would argue it is not growing but I believe it is really getting better). Land in Palermo and do the west. Go up to the Aeolian islands and sail out to active volcanoes. Make your way East and drink up the fine wines near Menfi or drink in the Tunisian culture in Mazara del Vallo. See the ruins of Selinunte and Agrigento before setting fire to it all on the slopes of Mt Etna. This is one of the greatest places on the planet to experience life.

• Sardinia - another island where 2 weeks is hardly enough. The bets pork I have ever eaten was here. The most dramatic contrast in life and landscape exists from the interior mountains to the sea only 1 hour away. Buy a knife, drink wines from vines older than the state of Alaska, and dip it all up with crispy flat-bread and the charming sounds of the local dialects. Sardinia is an Italy few see beyond the glitzy port towns. Get inside the island and you get inside another century. Take a boat there. Flying is boring and being on the open Mediterranean is a real high. Cagliari, Orgosolo, Orosei, Alghero, and Sassari offer the visitor a different view of the world in each stop.

• Puglia/Basilicata - I like to eat well and without blowing my entire bank account. I like to ride bikes through 1000 year old olive groves. I like grilled meats, pizza, and local beers. I like erudite nightlife and funky old towns. Puglia has it all. From the baroque of Lecce to the Sassi of Matera in Basilcata there is more to do and see along these southern regions than any guide-book can express.

These are my Italy rules expanded and I hope you continue to follow my Italian adventures.

Lost Images of Turin, Italy

View from the Church Steps - Turin.

Lost Images of Turin, Italy

I made my first trip to Turin, Italy in August of 2010. I was simply blown away by the architectural influence of the French Savoy family. However, like most of Italy in August, the city was practically deserted. The empty streets along with the general resignation on the faces of the locals, during this holiday month, gave one of Europe's richest cities an eerie and sickly feel.

I love the ghostly light emanating from the center tunnel in this image. This one ray of sunshine seemed to encapsulate the spirit of this very challenging summer in Italy.

The glassy reflections of life along the Po river made me feel the urge to drink lots of champagne. (which we did)

Even though I enjoy my theatrical edits, I am always up for a portrait of life. This musician was sweating in the heat, no one was tipping, and his look of exhaustion suggested this might be his last August performing in Italy. The reflections of tourists in the window only offered him brief hope for some change, which he would not get.

Tomorrow is the BIG DAY! My first piece comes out on the Your Life as Trip - experiential travel writing site. Please look for my article there and sign up to receive weekly posts from some of the world's leading travel writers.

Also, please remember to follow my Blissful Adventurer Page on Facebook!

Look for my announcement about a Puglia, Italy travel opportunity coming soon!

Cheers,

Michael

Italy Fiction – The Grape Harvest Part 7

An exploration of Italy Fiction - The Grape Harvest Part 7 is the story of a newly published author, his daughter, and their passion for Italian food, life, and danger.

The Grape Harvest

SCENE 1

Mike really enjoyed driving the Ape. As close to wine as he was he had never been a winemaker and the discomfort of the sulfured-overalls did not affect the joy he derived from the costume. Much like a play from his youth dressing the part somehow made him the character. This was a dress rehearsal for deception and Mike would have it no other way.

The miniature truck whined along the road towards Alba and the train station. Trains were slow in this part of the world but anonymity was worth the nuisance. There was a prevailing oncoming wind from the east and the Ape did not make good time under a patch of clouds. Along the wine roads there was not a car nor even an opposing work vehicle to be seen until Mike happened along a grove of trees at the apex of a hill. There was Pino the truffle hunter perfunctorily pointing out the secrets of fungus finding to the soon-to-be devastated German family. The boy was far more interested in the truffle-sniffing dog than the lecture and the little girl twirled at her department store scarf while the mom looked as though she might have felt a hint of moisture in the presence of the handsome Pino. The gun-toting author slowed the Ape to a crawl as he drove by. The little girl made eye contact with him and they gave each other a cutesy wave.

He called out to the family in Italian: “in boca al lupo Tedeschi!”, good luck Germans, as he twisted the handlebar accelerator and the bumblebee crawled back to top speed. Pino yelled out something profane and esoteric about the Teutonics as the writer disappeared down the back of the hill.

SCENE 2

When they pulled away from the villa Viola told Franco she would indeed go to Genova even though she knew she would be returning to Perugia. Her father had always been the most intriguing man she knew and while she had accepted long ago his heart was good, she finally allowed herself to consider it a good heart, inside a very bad guy.

She wondered if she might not ever see him again and that thought gave her a bit of comfort even as the tears formed in the back of her brow and the tingle of loss made its way to her stomach. “we were eating fucking Robiola!...there was going to be carne crudo with white truffle for lunch!...now I want to vomit” she thought as Franco took another corner way too fast for most of the 3 billion non-Italian drivers on earth.

Roberto had given them all time and while Mike could not have known this his leisurely drive in the Ape suggested he indeed expected the winemaker’s running of interference. What he also could not have known was that he would still enjoy a walk with his daughter on this day.

SCENE 3

Mike parked the Ape inconspicuously (for Italy) on the sidewalk behind the Alba train station. He tore away the overalls and left them in the cab along with a 50 euro bill to cover the gas. At a tourist shop on the main street he purchased an ITALIA football jersey and baseball cap from the Juventus Italian soccer club. One look in the bathroom mirror confirmed his suspicion that he would look like the biggest idiot first time Italy traveler on the train and it pained him almost as much as tossing his black V-Neck T into the restroom trash. Wet paper towel on the chest and armpits was a telling reminder of just where this day had gone and while he was happy to clear away the sweat, the residual aroma of sulfur disgusted him and he hoped no one would make the mistake of sitting close to him on the train.

The father and daughter met at the electronic ticket kiosk. Viola completely ignored Mike’s existence not recognizing him in the slightest. He knew her immediately and thought how he might simply walk away, but fortune favored the brave and he spoke:

Mike: (in midwest USA accent) do you know where I can get a ticket for Rome?
Viola: (brushing off the question) non parlo Inglese!
Mike: hai capito stavo parlando in Inglese, ma non ti parli Inglese?
Viola: fuck off old man, not the time or day for bullshit!
Mike: Viola (removing the accent and the hat revealing his wiry hair and grey streak)
Viola: Dad! (loud then whispering) dad..what the fuck?
Mike: where you headed?
Viola: where do you think?
Mike: company?
Viola: you buying?
Mike: do I have a choice?
Viola: you never have
Mike: truer words…..

The two purchased first class tickets to Perugia and made their way to the regional train for Milano Centrale station. Of course there was no first class car for the local train and the two sat quietly among elderly men and women on their way to the city to see loved ones who had migrated to the factories and shops of Italy’s ugliest city.

Scene 4

Mike explained what had happened with the German and how he had narrowly escaped death. Viola questioned him incessantly as to the whats and whys with only vague answers and non-sequiturs in return. This was not going to be the day when it all came to light, not yet.

Mike was enamored with his daughter’s mind and her patterns of speech which mirrored his in so many ways. He had always assumed genetics was a bit of bullshit and at the same time he was very clearly created from the molds of his own father and his late grandfather. Complexities of human interaction were the principal studies of his characters when he wrote, and he had learned long ago that the best information comes from the most open and vaguely leading interaction.

While it was true he had killed someone that morning, he knew intimately the details of that chapter and preferred to satisfy his curiosity questioning his daughter. What was her story? What had she seen? Assuming she was not a very good girl, he wondered where she might have broken bad.

As they chewed on breaded chicken sandwiches from the Chef Express just outside track 11 at Milano Centrale he quickly knew he would not be disappointed….

To be continued.

The Grape Harvest Part 5 - Piedmont Travel Fiction

The Grape Harvest Part 5 is the continuation of my Italy Travel Fiction segment that I began in April. This is a 7-10 part series following Mike, a newly successful author along his travels in Italy. Do not let the banal description steer you away from this story of introspection, compulsion, and deviance. Here are links to the first 4 chapters.

Mike: (to Viola) you knew that Roberto had truffles today didn't you?

Viola: I AM my father's daughter

Mike: he still gets these via trade; his guy told him that he could get $1500 each for the small fist truffles but that because the winery had been so good to him in the lean years that there would never be any wavering in the agreement which dated back 22 years to the first November after Roberto's father fell ill.

Viola: Roberto's poem on the winery wall?

Mike: yeah, perhaps the most compelling argument that life and our direction is not nearly so neat as we would like to make it. Roberto was a successful man, but family....

Viola: I love you Dad

Mike: are you sure?

Viola: you silly, silly man, with the big dangerous imagination...you know I am not going to repeat myself

Mike: so, a walk in the vineyards before lunch?

Viola: I have all day

Mike: I need to go to the room a bit

Viola: missing something?

Mike: the opposite

Viola: gross

Mike: have another coffee

Viola: then it would be my turn

Mike: dai! (come on)

Viola: have fun

Mike loved being anal retentive. In all the therapy from the divorce, the sessions in prison, and the countless scheduled interruptions Mike never admitted any frustration with his need to control his bathroom moments. The paid agreements with 3 cellmates over the 6 year sentence were an easy sacrifice for privacy. Larry, deuce, and Milwaukee all happily accepted payments to take morning rec shifts so that the author could experience consistent defecation time. Even the guards were known to have avoided Mike's cage during the 8am hour and he could not help but feel a bit of joy knowing that the very funds that put him in federal prison were the same monies he used to buy this modicum of contemplative release.

As Viola disappeared from view the feeling intensified as if something in need of air to breathe wanted to leave his body. The wine-stained book on the nightstand was the only thought keeping his pant's dry and as he pulled tightly on his abdomen he let his mind drift for all of a moment to the firearm tucked into his trousers. The misery clothing weighed down by the Beretta was not part of the plan. A proper shit was unencumbered by weight although the tightness of dress pants, particularly these Hugo Boss pants, was essential around the shins as the push would be beautiful. Of course there were times when sickness forced a nude release but this was not one of those days. This was a perfect day for a perfect BM, the name Mike's family used during his potty training.

Mike opened the door to the room and locked it behind him. As he breathed in deeply for the final hold he flicked on the bathroom light and the very rarely seen, Italian exhaust fan. The soothing white noise filled the room as Mike carefully took off his black T-Shirt and dusted the shoulders with the back of his right hand. He smiled quickly to himself in the dressing mirror as he pulled the pistol from his pants and set it down on the dresser. The image of his bare chest and the firearm in the mirror compelled him to grab the iPhone for a self-portrait.

Mike: (to himself in breathy mumbles) fuck...this is stupid...I mean it would be a good shot but my belly is fucking bloated from the gluten...ugh...fading..fading....OK...

He left the camera beside the gun and adjusted his hair, flicked away the imaginary flakes from his neck and upper back just before he entered the bathroom and locked the door behind him. As he unfastened his belt he remembered the book was still on the dresser.

Mike: (much louder to self) goddamnit you stupid moron!

With his belt undone, he flung open the door of the bathroom and saw the German father from breakfast pulling himself up from under the bed. The two men lunged for the gun on the dresser and the force of their mutual arrival left them both on the floor and several feet from the weapon. The muted thud of their falls barely audible to the combatants shook both bed and dresser as Mike's iPhone fell to the ground. In the dreamlike stoppage of time that occurs in moments of greatest tension Mike knew he had let his guard down. An :I love you moment" and his passion for a good morning crap had clouded the memory of the mystery note from before breakfast. Now, the creepy father with the molester mustache was there to write Mike's last chapter.

The German knew Mike's habits, and that he would be unarmed and vulnerable during his ritual evacuation. The hit-man hun had never expected Mike to make a hasty restroom retreat for requisite reading material so he had taken his time exiting his pillowy hiding spot. Now, rather than a convenient murder staged as suicide he was going to have to battle the anal author to the death.

Both men stumbled to their feet suggesting neither was nimble as they perceived themselves to be. As they met once again at the dresser the two grappled. The author and the alpine fashion-plate tugged and pulled at one another like little boys fighting to play with a new train set. The brawlers fell to the floor in a heap and the German managed to squeeze Mike into a headlock. Mike's left arm was the only barrier between the assailant's grip and his own neck.

Mike: you motherfucking Kraut fuck!

German: keep screaming maybe zay will heah you

Mike: you're not very good at this Hans

German: I know, but you ahhh tereeble...so day send me on my holiday to finish you

Mike: day..? day send you? (making fun of his accent)

German: go fuck you self small little man with small career...dis is why it end fo you heah..agreement ahr agreement

Mike was beginning to fade and at the same time his anger was mounting just as it had all those years before. He always hated dangerous animals and did his best to avoid camping with bears, swimming with sharks, or going on safari with lions. In essence, the idea of a lower life form taking his life was simply unacceptable. Now, a 2 dollar gun for hire with a million dollar mustache was about to do the job.

Although Mike's right hand was free and he was steadily bringing the full force of his medium build upon the nose and eyes of the Teutonic titan the damage he was inflicting could do nothing to break the hold of the hun.

German: I did not expect you to come out so uhrly from de bahthroom...you like to take you time, read zeh books zat you could never vrite youself..

Mike: you fucked up my shit schedule..I was about to read the chapter on the indigenous varieties of red grapes here in Canale

German: instead I catch you wit deh pants down...ahhahahah!

Mike hated that the sweaty man was touching his bare skin. He had always considered a plethora of ways he could go out, and being iced was always a possibility considering his own past. He knew though that when it was time it would feel easier, the struggle would not exist. Now, all he could feel was a warming moist sensation on the back and the painful prod of an iron chin on the top of his head. He loathed clamminess on his skin and likened it to a woman touching his arm after she had been washing dishes. Dying was bad enough, losing to this low rent assassin was worse, and having the willies was simply too much to take.

The choking continued and as the dappled sun was getting spotty and the smells and sounds lesser by the second Mike heard a familiar tune. It was the Ligabue song - Le donne lo sanno - his iPhone ring! The fading writer scooped at the phone with his right foot and he could sense the German was attempting to squeeze harder.

Mike managed to get the phone to his fingertips on his free hand while he forced one last push against the chokehold with his occupied arm.

Mike: hey...hey! hey!

German: vaht? can't you see I'm trying to kill someone?

Mike: (grabbing the iPhone fully) I think it's for YOU!!

Mike leveled the iPhone in the hard plastic case directly into the right eye of the attacker. The German's grip loosened just enough for  Mike to spin clockwise and rattle the iPhone into the assaulter's adam's apple. The men separated and although free, Mike remained dazed and dizzily collapsed when he tried to get to his feet. The dumbfounded dad audibly choking now and grasping at his throat got to his knees and made for the dresser.

Mike spun on his back like an 80s break dancer and kicked the Bavarian bandit with both feet glancing his neck and eyes. The indirect blow slowed the German blitz long enough for Mike to get to his knees and rip his loosened belt from his pants. The simple silver buckle made a punchy thwack as it broke the German's lip apart and it sounded even more menacing as it landed twice again on the eyebrow and tip of the attacker's nose.

After the third belt strike Mike jumped to his feet and grabbed the pistol behind him. The German lunged forward as the first bullet tore open the left side of his neck and he twisted violently into the row of windows along the wall behind the bed.

Mike fired a second and third round quickly into the hun's abdomen felling him in a heap on the floor under the windows. The German indeed slid down the wall smearing blood like some scene from Japanimation and the author noted this with a curious grin.

Mike: you sonofabitch! you fucked up my shit schedule!

German: don't let my family see me like ziss

Mike: where are they?

German: zay went on zeh twuffehl hike

Mike: of course they did....man, you choked me really good..you almost got me

German: your fucking iPhone..why do you have it in zhat case?

Mike: mostly because I am clumsy and drop the thing all the time..you know, i threw it off a concrete embankment once when this fucking dentist tore my face apart trying to drain an infection. It literally went about 200 feet in the air and down on the street....not a scratch...can't really say the same for you. I would love to call an ambulance, but you know I can't do that

German: I know...

Mike: besides, now I am going to be constipated for a week...holding cells, questioning, Amanda Knox references...you fucking asshole!

Mike no longer had the urge to shit and it felt like there was a reptile in his stomach that had crawled up from his anus filling his bowel canal and preventing release. The discomfort in his gut only exacerbated his misery as he pulled and wiped at the attacker's sweat on his back and kidney area.

Mike: man, you sweaty fuck...uhhhh! I am gross...nasty fat fuck!

German: ziss won't be zeh end

Mike: I'm sure.....

Mike fired another round through the bridge of the German's nose and he died. At that moment the iPhone text tone sounded and the message said "have you finished your business Dad? ready for that walk?"

...to be continued 

Italy Images - This is Why I am Blissful

A ray of light on the wall of the Pantheon. In this greatest functioning example of ancient architecture I am always amazed that the renaissance genius Raphael is entombed here.

An afternoon storm brews over the mysterious Matera in the Italian state of Basilicata. If you think you know Italy yet have never been south of Rome, it is time you live up to your high praise of yourself.

The stunning Castel del Monte is one of the most unusual monuments in that it appears from nowhere along a gorgeous plateau in the highly underrated region of Puglia, Italy. This is very likely the cover to my first book

Sunset over Naples on the only day I ever spent there. It was the most fascinating and living city I have been in Europe. I will return to Napoli again soon.

Morning fog over Canale in Piedmont, Italy. The fog Nebbia lends its name to the signature grapes grown in this king of Italian wine country Nebbiolo. This is also a region visited by few yet so far beyond the quality scope in food and wine it is hard to fathom.

So, here is my shot of Tuscany :-) The genius gregarious winemaker Mario Bollag pouring a tank sample of his 2006 Brunello di Montalcino. 

I adore my adopted 2nd home country as much as I love waking up each day. There are many who write about Italy. I live it as the great poets did. There is a spirit in this land that belongs to the auspices of the cosmos and no single people can possibly offer more than careful stewardship of where life simply is.

Sorry there are no links here to my subjects. Feel free to ask me any questions. I am drunk with memory and must rest.

Ci vediamo tutti

M