booked up

I felt this morning like I did on the days I still taught: so much to do, so little time to do it in. Like a working person, with a lecture to prepare and house chores to finish up. And snow to clear -- to the barn, to the car. And a partner who is going to want to ski, and a granddaughter who most assuredly will want to play.

Help me out here, I'm drowning!

But, on the other hand, it sure is a pretty day. With a gentle snow and temps still just below freezing, you could say it is a near perfect winter weather.

A bit later, as I wait for Ed to finish up some of his machine design talk on Zoom, I glance over at an article in the paper- - one that appeared last week actually, except I was too busy then to read it. I'll link you to it, but I think the title says it all: Three Steps to Age Exuberantly. The thing is, I know how to age exuberantly! It's so obvious: stop with the whining and get on with your projects. Search for happiness in your reality, even as it may have elements of sadness. Talk to younger people, preferably not about your sore knee. Learn from them. Cook for your grandkids. Yes, yes, it's all there, written down for you by an 86 year old Swedish woman who had previously written a book about how you should declutter your home before you die so that your kids wont have to deal with your mess when you're gone. Amen! Wisdoms galore! 

And yet, here I am, feeling like the day is running away from me and I am not feeling all too exuberant about it. 

Eventually, Ed joins me for breakfast and the tide turns. He asks if he can help with farmette chores and my impatience with the day fades. We've got this! We're in control!

Very soon after, we go skiing in our county park. I wait at the bottom of the hill for him to catch up and he barrels into me and then topples into a snow drift. I had to laugh. It was, after all, sort of my fault (I didn't get out of the way quickly enough). And of course since we are ancient people, he couldn't easily get up. It took a few mins to figure it all out. And that was funny too.

And the snow keeps falling and the forest looks like it's happy to receive this blanket of white stuff.

Beautiful snow...

The world seems like such a pretty and welcoming place. Cold, but isn't that what gives color to our cheeks? Isn't it just so bracing? We ski harder and my activity rings on my watch close and I am so delighted with the way things are going!

In the afternoon  I have Snowdrop and again I groan at the absence of time. I should take her skiing. Skating. Snow fort building. But there isn't time for that. She wants food and she wants to read. We do both.

(She also wants to clobber Ed. I leave them to it: they have their own game going which I do not fully understand but it makes them both laugh and that's a good thing.)

 

And now I zip her home, and I zip myself over to the Oregon Public Library for the scheduled Like a Swallow presentation and reading. I am absolutely certain that no one will come on a cold and snowy day. In the evening no less. Wouldn't you rather stay home and eat veggie soup rather than brave the elements to listen to someone ramble about her childhood in Poland?

But people are a curious species and I do have quite a nice group of readers in the room and more watching online, and it is, in fact, a beautiful evening! Well, at least I thought so!

I go home deeply satisfied and happy. And I eat soup late, very late, with Ed, and at the end of the day I can't help but feel... exuberant! Great word, don't you think?

With so much love...

home

I wake up to winter in Wisconsin. The warm spell is behind us, the light snow is cleaning up the landscape. We'll have some arctic days in the weeks ahead, but today feels, well, normal. Winter normal.

But I'm still thinking about Naples. Maybe it's because Neapolitan culture, habits, daily life, feel uniquely different from what I would find elsewhere in Europe, yet not so different that I can't find my bearings within it. So, different in many ways, but still familiar. You don't feel shut out -- they're too welcoming for that.

Increasingly, when I travel, between actually doing things, dashing around, and writing Ocean posts, I find myself having too little time to think. But that's okay, I catch up on everything once I am home. So today, I'm catching up on thinking.

And at the same time, I'm molding myself back into my sweet routines at home. Morning with the animals  while for once Ed can sleep in...

(where were you all these days?!!)

(where were you all these days?!)

And then breakfast together. We talk about the power of hateful speech and people's taste for reading such stuff, or at least about such stuff. And the importance of removing yourself from all of it so that you at least are not part of the enabling camp. Democracy, unfortunately, has to make room for vile content, but without listeners, without an audience, gossip, and especially negative opinions on the lives of others has no where to go.

There. We can get serious over oatmeal!

Snow. Not a ton of it -- this is no blizzard. Just a gentle light dusting over a small base. Enough to go skiing? Well why not!

I talk to the forest. I haven't had a good conversation yet this year. It's time.

And in the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop. 

This girl would like to just reread favorite things off the shelf.

But, it's time to nudge her toward new stuff. And I do. And she is mesmerized by the freshness of the story (the Penderwicks series -- just superb to read together!). The entire afternoon is spent on zipping through the chapters of it. Well, and eating tons of snacks. Some things never change.

In the evening I cook up a soup. Just because it is the absolutely perfect evening for it. I also suggest we watch the one movie from this year's Oscars that we can actually stream for free -- All Quiet on the Western Front. It's the kind of movie where if you begin it while having faith in humanity, you're liable to quickly loose it at the end. Uff! Two and a half hours of horror.

Still, the soup was good and the farmhouse was warm and it was so good to be home once more!

with love...

from Naples to the farmette

Here's a solid truth: Naples was so intense! I can think of a number of reasons for it. First of all, I feel that Neapolitans are intense. There's no messing with them -- they are in charge. So friendly! But they look out for their own. Ask for help and you'll get more than what you need. But don't push, or they will push back hard. 

Then, too, the weather was intense. I need not go over that -- you saw it up and down my Ocean posts. Neapolitans slapped on their caps, hid behind scarves and hurried to get out of the rain. If the weather was a bother for me, it was an outright menace for them. Families hid their children. People didn't go out if they didn't have to. 

And of course, seeing Bee after an almost three and a half year hiatus was, for me, intense, in all the good ways, because spending time with her is always good.

Finally, the food: so much doughy stuff, so much sugar, such big portions! I couldn't quite get the hang of eating here. Three meals was too much, but it seemed impossible to eat less. In essence, I was never hungry.

I had five days and five nights here, though of course, two of those days were really in Rome. I slept too little and walked a ton. Intense!

This morning, I set my internal clock to mind the time. I have to get into a cab by 10 or I'll be scrambling to catch my 12:20 flight to Paris. But leaving at 10 does mean that I have a solid morning in Naples. A solid sunny morning in Naples. I mean, really! Did the sun have to come out just as I am leaving??

(From my room, before dawn: the sun rises from behind the Amalfi coast...)

(a few minutes later...)

Breakfast. Alone this time and no lingering allowed! If I want a Neapolitan walk, I need to speed things up a bit. And who am I kidding -- I don't want healthy or wholesome, I want one last fling with the sweet stuff here. So, let's see.... How about the apple cake which probably has more egg yolks per bite than a soufflé? 

And one of my favs here -- that leafy pastry with the pastry cream inside. Fine, add some fruit and a yogurt. And a cappuccino. They do make a good cappuccino...

Now for my morning walk. But where to? The sky is so blue, the air getting to be so warm... For the first time I shed my sweater and just stick with my light jacket.

I'm going for the main shopping drag -- Via Toledo -- just because that's where I started. And it's good for people watching. With umbrellas tucked away for good, I can now see faces and catch the tail ends of conversations (they do not have quiet voices here).

(Did I mention that Neapolitans are risk takers?! Perfect place to keep a bike helmet, don't you think?)

I cross the Piazza del Plebiscito. At this early hour, this traffic-free square appears to be used as a dog park: they meet, they chat, the dogs are let loose.

... to make friends with other dogs, with whom they start a loud conversation.

I pass by the Gambrinus Caffe. All those Neapolitan croissants! I think they claim they invented this pastry. But they don't just let it be: they stuff it, sprinkle it, glaze it. Yeah, I'm tempted. But, I've done my Neapolitan indulgence. I move on.

And now I pass those countless cafe bars where people meet up to talk and gesture and express themselves as only the southerners in Italy can.

Actually, you do not need a cafe bar. A conversation in the middle of the sidewalk will do.

There are a number of interesting side streets. The laundry is there, but this time with a promise that it will actually dry.

Looking this way, you see Vesuvius. Never too far away to have you forget that nature can be mean toward those who don't live by its rules (that would be most of us).

Ah, Naples... So full of everything!

Okay, time to head back. In a hurry now. As is everyone else here, all the time.

Well, I guess not everyone. These guys remind me of the ice fishermen back home. Same idea. Camaraderie, quiet. Probably more of a catch here. I'd eat what they bring in! (Can't say the same about stuff hauled in from Lake Waubesa...)

Fine, I need to include a last photo of Vesuvius. Naples lives in its shadow. That sounds like a writer's cliché but in this case I think it's true. Naples, Pompeii, Amalfi Coast -- in a sense they re all one, for reasons of tourism, but, too, in shaping the Neapolitan identity.

(Amalfi coast -- we meant to wander its staggered alleys, but of course, the weather stopped us. Admire it from this poster in a local cafe!)

One more quick detour -- to the Castle dell'Ovo, just across a strip of water from my hotel. I thought I'd have time to climb its ramparts, but I couldn't find the entrance to them. I admit I did not try hard. Time was running out.

A look back toward my sweet old hotel -- such pleasant, accommodating people! Such clean rooms! Such great views!

What's my last photo from Naples? Coincidentally, it's of a cat. He's waiting for a seaside restaurant to open for lunch. Cats love seaside restaurants. Our herd of six back at the farmette would feel happy here!

And that's it! I pick up my suitcase and take a cab to the airport. The driver curses the traffic, but I'm okay with it. It's Naples. The airport is close. And small. We're good.

The Air France flight takes off on time for Paris. I have a somewhat short layover there, but with enough time to browse and pick up a box of chocolates for Ed. It is Valentine's Day soon, isn't it? Oddly, as I approach the departure gate, forty minutes before take off, I find not a single passenger there. Wait, did I miss something? Did I mess up the time? The agent tells me -- you're the last one. They're all on board. Never, and I really mean never do I recall pre boarding everyone this early at CDG! Well, no matter. I'm not late, the flight takes off at its scheduled hour. 

It's a long flight to Minneapolis, and then another layover, and finally another short flight -- to Madison, and now I am home. Hi Ed! Did you miss me?? Of course, gorgeous.

With so much love...

Naples with Bee, one last time

There is a bit of a tease going on in this place. We check meticulously the hourly weather prognosis for Naples. Last night, the word "rain" was only occasionally replaced by "showers." Showers, rain -- take your pick, both sound wet to me. And thus the verdict is clear -- the storm system has rolled in some pretty saturated clouds and they are going to do their work, dumping mounds of water on us all day long. Again.

And yet, this early morning looks deceptively pleasant! As if everything had changed course. Breaks in the clouds, no umbrellas in sight. 

But it's all a big laugh, to show us what could have been! You want to see Naples in better weather? Here, take a look! Ha, but today? Oh, that's something quite different.

So Bee and I linger over breakfast. She takes off tonight, so every moment is more precious. Leave no detail behind. Yes, there will be Zooms, but sitting at the same table is so much better!

And now the wind picks up, big dark clouds really take charge. As we get ready to head out the door, there is a cloudburst - not of rain, but sleet and hail. Suddenly, Neapolitan streets are littered with bits of ice. Well now, that's unusual! But this is our reality. All day, the wind will blow in dark clouds, big blobs of rain or sleet will come down and then the clouds will move on. Until the next one. Freaky weather! But, you could also say that the colors are extra sharp and the cloudbursts never last too long. Our umbrellas get a real workout out, buffeted that they are by a ferocious slapping and pulling in every direction.

We made plans to do some indoor stuff, starting with a tour of the Real Teatro di San Carlo.  Built in 1737, it is apparently stunning. In operation since before La Scala, before La Fenicie, it is in fact the oldest opera house in Europe. As we get ready to plunk down our money for the visit, we are given an "oh by the way." As in -- oh, by the way, you can only see the scaffolding and the ceiling restoration. The rest is closed for renovation. Well no thank you! We want to see this:

Not just frescoes on a ceiling in a state of disrepair.

Never mind, we have a plan B: the Royal Palace in Naples.

The Palace is huge and it is right next to the theater, which is a good thing because, well, the weather sucks.

Here is one highlight -- a staircase so grand that you feel you're underdressed using its splendid slabs of marble. Some have called it the grandest stairwell in all of Europe (Photo curtesy of Bee).

Thirty-eight rooms are open to the public. I tell Bee we will be done in half an hour -- that's how quickly I usually walk through such opulent structures (except in touristy places that are so crowded that I have to elbow my way from room to room before I can get to the end). 

The Royal Palace of Naples is not crowded. At all. Indeed, there's almost no one in this cavernous, gilded space. Bee thinks it looks sad and a little neglected. I would not disagree. It's as if the party had moved on and now here you are alone, abandoned, with uncomfortable chairs, lots of mirrors and highly decorated ceilings. Take a look:

(Perhaps the most interesting piece of furniture: a gizmo for a person who wants to read several books at the same time! An early version of a kindle!)

In one of the rooms (possibly the ballroom), we find a cushioned chair and we sit down and stay for more than half an hour, just to talk.

Ha! We missed a window of decent weather. By the time we are out again, the rain is... pronounced. 

We go to a nearby coffee shop. Despairing at the difficulty of finding decent sit-down cafes here, I looked up the possibilities and discovered Gran Caffe Gambrinus ("Gambrinus" is a legendary, somewhat inebriated character who seems always to be happy). This place has been here since the 19th century and it's not surprising that such famed souls as Wilde, Hemingway, Zola and Sartre liked to hang out here.  You have to fall in love with a place that sells these:

We sit at a table at the window and indulge, arguing over whether the berries on my cake are (the world acc. to Bee) strawberry, or (the world acc. to me) fraises de bois. In the end, Bee acquiesces.

(the waiters are oblivious to our search for The Truth)

And now we set out along the Via Chiaia -- a sweet little shopping street just behind the cafe. Nothing tempts us, but still, the drizzle is light, our moods are great. (All that sugar!)

And we have carried ourselves right toward the tail end of the lunch window. It's now or never! We head toward Impasto 55, a well recommended pizza place in our neighborhood. It's open still, and again we get a window seat, and again that's just begging for us to talk way past the hour of the meal.

What did we eat?

Fried stuffed zucchini flowers...

... And pizzas: margherita for Bee and the Impasto 55 for me (in addition to small Vesuvius tomatoes and the wonderful cheese, it has squirts of pesto sauce).

And for dessert? Oh, let me remind you -- we ate that before lunch! Just like they traditionally do in coastal Poland: cake before protein!

Feeling more energetic, we set out for a walk along the coast. 

Never mind.

We turn back.

The wind is just too fierce. Even when the rain lets up, the slaps on the face are such that you want to run away and hide.

We spend our last hours together in the hotel room, this time mine, continuing our never-ending conversation, and the minute she leaves, I remember all that I meant to ask her, but it will have to wait, and perhaps that's a good thing, because it is always so fine to reconnect and restart where we left off. I'm okay with Zoom, really I am. Sigh...

Thank you, Bee, for coming to Naples, despite the absurdity of it all! It was grand to have this adventure here with you and I miss you already!

(Sunset? Honestly? You devilish weather, you!)

In the later evening I cannot decide if a walk is warranted.

(If I were to write a child's book about monsters, I might use this photo to illustrate it; out my balcony window!)

One side of me says. -- go! It's your last evening in Naples! The other? Over my dead body! I'm not going out in that crazy weather!

The second side wins.

But by 8, I realize that the afternoon pizza doesn't really have staying power. I tell myself -- well, there's a restaurant in the hotel, people appear to like it, I can go there and order just a soup, right?

I don't order just a soup. In fact, I order no soup at all. I want warm and comfy food and don't you think that wild mushroom risotto is about as warm and comfy as they get? With a salad to make me feel healthy. And a Negroni, because this is the last night in Italy and tomorrow's flights are long and hard and so I deserve it.

I could have stopped there. But no. I have been seeing babas au rum in all the pastry shops, and I finally google a question that is something like this "hey, isn't baba au rum French? Why am I seeing them everywhere in Naples?" The answer is yes to both: it's French, imported there from Poland (!) and then exported from there to Naples. Not Italy, but exactly, specifically and only to Naples. Well now, this just makes it absolutely necessary to end my Neapolitan eating with this awesome ciastko (Polish for small cake).

Oh my dear Ed! You do not know what you are missing!

Tomorrow, full of thoughts, insights, nostalgic memories, food, ideas, and yes, excitement, because of all that's there waiting for me -- I fly home.

With so much love.