Umbertide - September 21, 2001
My first day, settled, in Italy. I woke up in a real bed -- with line dried sheets that offered that fresh, sunlit feel and smell. Jan's place is lovely, tucked up under the eaves of an old nunnery that overlooks the Tiber (see photo 1). I slept in a bit, as yesterday was a big travel day (6 am to 1:30 am of trains, rental cars and connections).
Jan was already up and making a gorgeous ribolleta (thick vegetable soup) which she served over polenta. We talked about the US "war" a bit, but mostly life, love and what we were up to. Then yippee we rode up to Melchiorre's house to sort through the kitchenware and organize for the October cooking events.
Melchiorre lives on a high hill. His house is unfinished, but architecturally pleasing, with sweeping 360 views of Umbertide and the valley. For those who have met him, you can guess the afternoon he cooked, we ate. The fire was going when we arrived, in a hearth the size of a Volkswagen. Melchiorre and Jan were soon slicing, chopping, prepping delectable treats for our mezzo-giorno pranzo (midday meal). They soon reached that flow, that beautiful ballet good cook's excel at balancing multiple concoctions, coaxing them toward the final moment when it's all ready to serve.
He'd been smoking sardines and small fish on the roof, which he paired with riced potatoes drizzled with a pungent olive oil. Next were roasted peppers with carta di musica (a thin, paper like bread that is moistened and rolled around your treat) and a new cheese he had created. (Jan promised to tell me what his method was. She did not want to share that while we were eating, so this promises a good story.) The cheese was smooth and spreadable with a strong hint of blue to it. The peppers had sautéed in olive oil for about 30 minutes, until tender and brown. The olive oil was drained, the peppers patted dry and lightly salted. My god, they were heavenly. Next came fresh cinghiale (wild boar). Local hunters had killed the beast within the last few days and gave Melchiorre a big hunk of meat. He made a hunter's stew (like what we'd had last year) and sliced the rest up into steaks that he grilled in the hearth.
You know it would not be Melchiorre if there was not an over abundance of everything. To celebrate our reunion, he served Prosecco (a light champagne) and after the meal, a lemon cream concoction that reminded me of eggnog. Oh, and fresh fruit. This is lunch remember. Just when you think you are finished, and sit back with a contented sigh to loosen a waistband, some other taste sensation arrives.
It was a wonderful first day Melchiorre was as ebullient as ever, full of stories and light Jan made me feel so welcome and part of the family. After the feast, when we finally rolled back from the table, we said our "ci vediamos" (see you laters) and came home for a bit of a siesta (la pausa). Its still very hot during the day and resting in the shade is a pleasure. But just a quick nap because, you know, dinner is in just a few hours
September 3, 2001
Its less than 24 hours before I leave San Francisco and begin this journey to Italy. Yikes!
Its been a huge undertaking, as much as I pretend its been nothing. For a year I've been able to hide in the process... transitioning my responsibilities at work, beginning the packing and storage process, making arrangements for the cats and my apartment, taking an Italian class, catching up with friends... Its been a year of doing.
Now I am right on the brink. No more doing... now its just facing the trip. Finally allowing the fears to percolate, the angst about leaving friends and family... the many uncertainties. The abyss of unknown.
What an adventure. What an opportunity to recapture that feeling of possibility... that anything can be accomplished if you set your mind and heart to it. That any fear can be allayed -- and very little is beyond my reach if I push myself a little.
I've been so lucky. I have an amazing group of friends from all over who have been encouraging and excited for me. They've pitched in on logistics, cheered my progress and lamented my leaving -- while promising to visit, of course! They have made the abyss easier to ignore... because no matter how many miles I am from San Francisco, Philadelphia, Boston, Sydney, London, Dallas, D.C... I carry all of them with me. And we have email.
So, let the games begin!
"Traveling is not just seeing the new; it is also leaving behind. Not just opening doors; also closing them behind you, never to return. But the place you have left forever is always there for you to see whenever you shut your eyes."
-- Jan Myrdal, The Silk Road, 1980
