Homeward

Steve

Watching the sunrise from the little cove between Fornillo and Spiaggia Grande

For my last day in Positano, I got up early and took a couple of photos of the sunrise from Fornillo beach.  Then I headed back up to the villa to prepare for our trip back to the states.  Our travel itinerary included a transfer back to Naples, then a train to Rome, and finally a flight to London.  We spent the evening in London, and the next morning we were able to wonder about and show the girls some of London's most famous landmarks.  After that it was back to the airport to catch a mid-day flight to the U.S.  Travel days can be a little exhausting, but the girls are a bit used to it now and don't complain too much.  It helps that everything has been running on schedule.  

Wandering around London near the hotel in the am to scope out breakfast spots,
when what to my wondering eyes did appear!  ( I had no idea we were so close to Westminster Abbey.)

So what can I say about our time here in Positano?  This little seaside village where the houses tumble down the mountains to the sea.  I am sure that in the months ahead I will miss certain aspects of life there.  In many ways our time in Italy was better than I had imagined it might be.  We did so much during our stay, and yet there is so much more that we wanted to do.  We met so many genuinely kind and gracious people, some of them who we are now lucky enough to count among our friends.  On a more personal level, I had hoped that the time spent in Italy would in some way transform me.  Now that we are high above the Atlantic and headed home, I find myself wondering if it has.  ( I'm almost certainly no taller.  ;)  I think that the days spent in Positano were some very happy ones for myself as well as for Jo Anne and the girls, and that good times (like bad ones) leave their mark on people.  I would like to think that as a family we have grown a bit closer.  I think I savored each day we spent in Italy because in the back of my mind I knew that our time there was limited.  But in reality this is always the case no matter where you are, so hopefully appreciating each day is something I will continue to do.

Another sunrise photo from my walk down to Fornillo beach

I am very curious to see how things will play out back in the U.S.  It would be easy to spend three months in Positano without a care in the world, and then return to the grind and allow work, chores, and social obligations to again set the pace.  For life to be no different than it was before I left.  For me to be no different.  But I hope that this will not be the case.  I hope that what I have learned from my months abroad will become engrained in who I am and how I live my life.  And I think the lesson is simply this - enjoy your life, wherever you are.  Recognize the beauty that is around you and take advantage of it.  Skip the cinema in favor of a hike.  Have a glass of wine with your spouse and talk about anything and everything.  Play a game of checkers with your kids instead of watching TV.  If they are young enough to play checkers with you, these moments will be gone all too quickly.  Fill your days with wine and food and friends, because these will be some of the best days you ever spend.  And every once in a while take some time alone to treat yourself to a really good cappuccino.

Ciao.  Buon Natale e buon anno.

The Washington monument came into view just before landing.  Good to be home again. 

Together again.  Cousins reunite at the airport in DC.

The last drops of Limoncello

Samantha in the pink boa she smuggled into her carry on.

by Jo Anne

We have one week left in this beautiful town.  It's the length of a normal vacation for us and I'm realizing just how short that will always seem after this trip.  For these last few weeks we moved into a "villa" on the other side of town, the Fornillo side, a little splurge we had planned from the start.  The house has a large terrace with a view of the sea.  It gives the girls a welcome flat spot to run around outside and Steve and I a place to sit and practice "Il dolce far niente" (the sweetness of doing nothing).  While I haven't been a quick study with the Italian language, I think I could master this Italian art form.  From the balcony doors off of our bedroom you see only the blue Mediterranean offset by the white stone of the patio. It still doesn't feel quite real that we are occupying such a space. 

The view from our bedroom.

It's been cooler with lots of rainy days mixed in with the sun.  We've seen some winter storms roll in.  One night it felt as if the house was going to blow off the cliff.  They call it the tramontana (the northern wind).  There was lightning, rain coming down in buckets, power glitches, the northern wind howling down the mountain and….our laundry hanging out on the line.  All night I woke up to the storm and the tramontana envisioning our clothes sailing high up into the sky over Positano like something out of the Wizard of Oz.  By some miracle, our only casualty was one sock.

A storm rolling in.

Steve, I think, is growing into those Italian roots of his.  He's consistently studied the language a bit every day and it is paying off.  He wouldn't admit it, but his Italian is "molto buono" (very good) at this point.  Then there is the Italian cooking.  A few days ago he very casually created ravioli from scratch.  Their perfect half moon shapes were suddenly lined up upon the kitchen counter.  My father was not named "Guido Gustavino" so maybe that makes my goals more modest.  I have learned to make coffee in the European style carafe.  The other night I made a decent Spaghetti Pomodoro.  The pasta came from a box, but the simple sauce (olive oil, fresh tomatoes, garlic) was all mine.  And although I've often longed for our clothes dryer back home, last week I found myself embracing the Italian method of drying the clothes on a line.  I was back in the garden area hanging up the clothes.  The sun was beating down, the birds were singing, our neighbor was out picking lemons from her tree.  It suddenly felt very nice to be out there hanging those socks and shirts.  I heard the solar panels they use to heat the water here clicking away and thought this will be the most environmentally friendly load of laundry I will ever do.

I made him put the kid's chef hat on :)

Steve's ravioli - perfecto!

My spaghetti pomodoro.

Ella Bella helping me with the laundry.

Chirstmas has come to Positano.  There is a sprinkling of lights in the town and the grotto, a cave like area at the bend of the road, has been turned into a miniature old time Positano village.  There are miniature steps, of course, and tiny bakers, fishermen, cooks, and shop keepers.  A few years ago, someone told us, it included a "night sky" using a large fisherman's net with hundreds of tiny lanterns hanging from it as the stars.  I love looking at all the little details. 

The Christmas grotto.

We've made some trips into the neighboring city of Sorrento to do some shopping for friends and family back home.  Last week I made a solo trip there.  I was taking the bus back to Positano, loaded down with purchases and I noticed a British couple on the bus with me.  They were the only other people on the bus that day (definitely quieter than those standing room only buses in September).  We were on the windy section of road that hugs the cliff on one side and drops down to the sea on the other.  I could tell it was one of the first times they had seen this beautiful view. They were talking excitedly and taking a video through the bus window.  It reminded me of us only a few short months ago, looking out of the window of the shuttle from Naples, luggage stuffed in the back.  It made me wish I could go back and tell the anxious one of that bunch (me!) that all would be OK.  That no one would fall down a set of Positano stairs or be run over by a scooter on this trip.  I really hate how my mind works sometimes!  I wished that I could tell that self from three months ago that the trip would be all the good things we imagined and possibly a few drops of limoncello more.

The coast.

Ella and a lemon the size of her head in Sorrento!

Christmas lights in Sorrento

A cool and quiet day on the beach in December.  The water really is that color!!
I don't know how to use Photoshop,

Living the Simple Life

Steve

Our clothes get a dousing as an unexpected storm rolls of the sea.

One thing that has made an impression on me since we came to Italy is how my life has been simplified.  Now I know what you're thinking.  This guy has no job.  Of course his life is simple!  I must admit, not having the responsibilities that come with a job does lessen the load a bit.  (It certainly opens up your weekly schedule.)  But there is more to it than that.  Downsizing to a small apartment in a small Italian village has simplified our lives in ways that I had not expected.  For starters, we have no car.  This means we walk everywhere, but the beauty in this is we walk everywhere.  The town is small enough to cross in about twenty minutes, so walking works just fine.  And remember when you got your first car?  Remember all the freedom that came with it?  You could go anywhere you wanted to go, wherever the road might take you.  Well, I am experiencing the inverse of that freedom.  The freedom of no car.  I don't look for parking spaces, I never get tickets (even when I walk really fast), and best of all I don't remember how to work a gasoline pump.  Nothing to get scratched, keyed, or dinged.  No low air pressure in my tennis shoes.  Sheer bliss.  On occasion when I have to carry something cumbersome, I grab the local Positano bus, which circles the town once every 30 minutes. 

In addition to being car-free, our small apartment means a smaller space to clean.  A smaller space also limits the crap that I can collect at any given time.  The girls are content with fewer toys, and we spend considerably less time picking up after them.  I have no garden or lawn to mow - just a few plants on the balcony.  And I'm getting by with a fraction of my former wardrobe.  Other lucky surprises include an end to junk mail (those bastards don't know I'm here yet), no sales calls and the absence of TV since none of us speak Italian well enough to watch it.  And despite this lack of stuff, we are all quite happy.  It's like they say - less is more.

Our little kitchen.  Simple but very functional.

  

Now, it would be dishonest to romanticize our simple existence without acknowledging its dark side.  For instance, we have no clothes dryer.  And it's not just us - no one in town has one.  While it sounds very green and healthy to be hanging your clothes out on the clothesline, the availability of clean clothes in our home has become largely dependent on weather.com.  If we are unlucky enough to have more than five days without some decent sunshine, someone is going to run out of underwear.  And then there are the days that you hang the laundry, kidding yourself that a 40% chance of rain means it's not likely to rain.  Off you all go into town to meet friends for lunch, only to be caught by a 15 minute deluge that sets the clock on your "dryer" back to zero.  Or worse, some serious wind gusts kick up while you're out, and when your return home you realize that was your shirt that you saw in the bushes on your way home.  

Not only do we not have a dryer, we have no dishwasher.  I don't think I ever really knew what dishpan hands were until I got here.  And while no oven means there is less to clean, there is also less to eat.   No backyard means no BBQ, and the list goes on and on.  So while the lack of certain material goods has simplified my life, it also means doing without the benefits that these things provide.  Still, I am surprised at how little I miss these conveniences or having a larger space.  And while I don't think a simpler life is necessarily a happier one, my time here has made me more aware of the trade offs that come with ownership.  With our last weeks in Italy upon us, I have come to realize that there are many things that I can do without.  That seems like a good thing.

This set of photos are from my trip to the market this morning.
As you can see from the stairwell above, it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

One reason walking through Positano is so enjoyable is the scenery that confronts you at every turn.

Soaking it all in on foot, from the waves against the cliffs to the clouds drifting across the mountains.

On a rainy day in December, the roads of Positano are fairly empty.  Something you can't enjoy during the summer months.

Venice and the pigeons

by Jo Anne

I've heard that the pigeons in Venice have become a problem for the city and that they are looking for ways to curb their numbers.  The vendors that used to sell birdseed in St Mark's Square are now gone.  They were forced to close.   Because of that, I felt a bit guilty stuffing our leftover rolls from lunch into a bag to take down to St Mark's Square but I just couldn't imagine taking the girls to this city without giving them that experience.  So with our rolls in hand, off we went.

St. Mark's Square was shining on this cool, sunny day and filled with throngs of tourists and throngs of pigeons.  Many of these tourists were feeding the pigeons.  This helped to alleviate my guilt.  I watched one young guy, with arms outstretched, being covered in birdseed by his friend.  In seconds, he was covered with birds.  Our rolls came out and the pigeons swarmed.  Steve and I had a conversation that went something like this (you can guess who is who in the conversation).  "Oh God, was that pigeon poop?"  "No, that was a piece of bread falling."  "Ahhhh!  Now THAT was pigeon poop!"  "No, that was another piece of bread.  Can you please stop?"  The kids on the other hand were blissfully unaware of the risks of pigeon poop.  They wanted the pigeons all over them, until of course the pigeons were on them, and then it freaked them out a little.  Steve patiently stood with Ella and helped her learn to hold her arm out straight and how to keep it steady when the pigeons landed.  I tried to calm some of Samantha's fears but I'm not sure I was a great example.  While I know that some refer to these birds as "flying rats", watching Ella and Samantha's eyes light up, their giggles and screams, feeding the pigeons with the icon of St Mark's Basilica as the backdrop held a bit of magic for me. They said it was their favorite part of Venice and it may have been mine as well.  I'm not sure if Samantha will remember some of our excursions on this trip.  Will Pompeii or the museums in Florence still be there for her a couple of years later?  I  don't know.  But I think she will remember feeding the pigeons in the square of a beautiful city surrounded by water.

Ella has continued her pigeon feeding since our trip up north.  She always wants to have a spare roll in hand to feed the birds.  This makes getting through the train stations more difficult.  I have to say, feeding the pigeons in the train station doesn't hold the same magic that it did that afternoon in Venice.  At least not for me.

In Rick Steve's audio guide of St. Mark's square he suggests resisting the urge to immediately wipe pigeon droppings off.  He says if you allow it to dry you can easily flake it away.  That could be a tough tactic to explain to people if say the pigeon dropping landed on your nose.  "Ummm…I'm just allowing this to harden in the sun."  To be fair, I think he was just talking about clothing.  Luckily, we didn't need to use the advice.

Getting some instruction from Dad.

Just starting out.

Posing with the lions in the square.

Santa Maria Del Castello

Starting down from Santa Maria Del Castello

by Jo Anne

Santa Maria Del Castello is a small town on the top of the mountain overlooking Positano.  Our neighbor and friend, Ferdinando, invited us on an outing there a few weeks ago.  An organization that he leads was hiking up the mountain on a Sunday in November.  It's something they do every season for the kids, although each time to a different local spot.  It's part nature hike mixed with a little bit of a history lesson and topped off with a big party at the end.

The hike began at Chiesa Nuova, a church at the peak of Positano.  We started up some stairs from there and then a series of switchbacks up the mountain.  It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day but someone pointed out the clouds above .  They were moving very fast across the mountain top.  "Not a good sign", they said. The wind up there would prove to be brutal  One of Ferdinando's suggestions was to wear layers.  At that point I realized why.

The trail was once the main "road" used to get over the mountain.  I'm not sure at what point the trail was forged but there is evidence of a history here as far back as the Romans, the Greeks, and even pre-historic times.  Underneath the main chuch in town, Santa Maria Assunta, they are currently digging out the remains of a Roman villa.  (Add to the list of Roman achievements, finding the best beach front properties.)

On the hike, we learned about some of the native plants including thyme, rosemary, and wild blueberries. The thing that stuck with me the most though was the poisonous mushroom story.  There was s family that had died after picking and cooking one of the mushrooms we saw along the trail.  I'm even afraid of the little toadstools in our yard after this tale.

The poisonous mushroom

At the top of the mountain, the temperature had dropped it seemed 15 degrees and there was a howling wind.  That did not stop anyone.  There were games of tug-a-war, sack races, and music.  Somehow they put on a full pasta dinner for eighty people that tasted amazing.  Although, you had to hold your plate down or it would blow away.   I noticed a chair sitting up in a tree at some point and was wondering if that was somehow related to the games.  At the end it became clear, as they carried Ferdinando to it and set him down up in the tree.  He gave a short speech, which if I understood the translation was "Can someone please help me down from here?!".  

Samantha, who has told me some of her least favorite moments here were the hikes I've taken her on (a dagger to my heart) said at the end "That was a really fun day".  I think the kids and the games at the top won her over.  I agreed.

Meeting at Chiesa Nuova

Starting up the mountain

Can someone please help me down from here?

The object of Ella and Samantha's affection

Ella lost a tooth on the way down.  The tooth mouse came that night  (mouse not fairy here)

A Tourist in the North

Steve

Autumn colors of the vineyards in Northern Italy made the landscape all the more spectacular  

While we were here we wanted to take the opportunity to explore some other parts of the country, so we put together a week long trip that included Florence, Venice, and Modena.  Both Jo Anne and I had been to Florence and Venice previously, but Modena was an unknown.  All I really knew was that the Ferrari factory is based in Modena, but for me that was not really a draw.  (Never been much of a gear head.)  From the time when we arrived in Florence, what really struck me (as it did on our previous trip north) was how different northern Italy is when compared to the Amalfi coast.  The cities have such a different feel to them, not only due to the cooler climate, but clear differences in architecture, food, and culture.

I enjoyed all three cities, but found Modena to be the most interesting of the three.  While I think that this is partially due to the fact that it was my first visit, what I really enjoyed was that Modena feels like a real Italian city.  While Florence and Venice offer world renown art and architecture, to me the soul of these cities seems less intact.  For these places, tourism has become so a large part of the economy that they seem to exist solely so that people like me can wander through them and gawk.  This is certainly more the case in Venice than Florence.  Don't get me wrong.  Venice is one of the most unique and beautiful cities I have ever had the pleasure of visiting.  I thoroughly enjoyed this last visit and I hope to return someday.  However, as I cut through throngs of tourists along the grand canal I couldn't help but feel that no Italians really live there anymore.  (I don't believe you will ever find one of the city's residents riding in one of the many gondolas that crowd the docks, unless he is of course, a gondolier.)  Every aspect of the city seems organized around the tourist dollar, forcing those who work in the shops to commute from outside the city because it has gotten too expensive for the majority to live within the city proper.  It is a sad dilemma that the more a city bases its economy on the tourist trade, the more it risks becoming a parody of itself.  And while Positano faces the same problem to some extent, here there is an off season when the tourists vacate the premises (well, most of them ;) giving the town a chance to catch its breath and regain its identity.  This is less the case for Venice, where carnival draws a solid crowd in winter.

Cruising along the grand canal is a great way to take in the beauty of Venice.

In contrast, Modena was clearly a thriving city with an identity steeped in food and fast cars.  We toured a farm that produces balsamic vinegar (more fascinating than it sounds) and a dairy that produces parmesan cheese, both products that in part define this region of Italy.  We stayed in the historic part of the city, where the streets are lined with clothing shops, cafes, and a variety of nondescript small businesses doing the things small businesses do.  All the things that bring a city to life and give it personality.  The morning I was there was cloudy and quite cool, and I watched people bundled in coats and scarves crowd the counter at the local bar for a quick expresso before heading off to offices and shops.  Many of them were commuting on bicycles, as cars are limited in the old part of downtown.  And all this coming and going is set against the backdrop of a cityscape whose foundation was laid down by the Romans thousands of years ago.  For me it was one of those little moments you kind of savor because it feels as though it couldn't happen anywhere else in the world.  I wish we had arranged to spend more time in Modena, not only because they take food to a whole new level, but because I feel like we just skimmed the surface of a place that offers a great depth of experience.  Chalk up one more reason for our next trip to Italy. 

The girls tolerated the gondola tour, which they thought would be exciting until they got in the gondola.

A momentary lapse of crowds in St Mark's square.

Carnival came early for a select group of Venetian visitors.

The entry to villa San Donnino, one of the locations where they produce traditional balsamic vinegar.

Standing among barrels of traditional balsamic vinegar, which ages a minimum of 12 years.  Minimum aging for the good stuff: 25 years.

Did I mention we won a lifetime of Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese?  (Not sure how we are going to get it home.)