Homecoming

What a gorgeous Spring Day in Seattle! And, doubly wonderful because today is the day Miss Laura returns home from Florence. I spoke with her late last night Seattle time as dawn was breaking in Florence. Loaded down with 3 pieces of over-stuffed baggage to check and one enormous carry-on, her biggest worry was offloading the luggage into the care of Lufthansa. That hurdle past, the rest she felt would be a breeze. At 2:50 AM I received a text "Made it into Frankfurt" and then at 4:20 AM " I'm on to America! Ciao Europa! :)". She touched down in San Francisco around 3:45 PM today pumped up about being home again. "Gee, people are soooo helpful and friendly here; everyone was offering to help me with my bags."

The last leg of the journey should pass quickly. We'll meet her at Seatac in a couple of hours and then head home with the 4 overstuffed bags and one tired but exhilarated world traveler. Her choice for dinner? Vegetarian stuffed shells (a family fave), Caesar salad, and for dessert, strawberry shortcake. You got it, hon. Can't wait to have you home again!

Chris and Heather will join us for dessert tonight. Family re-united. What can be any sweeter?

Mismash of Thoughts/Feelings

My brain is on thought overload and consequently immersed in an endless array of conflicting feelings. Sadness, anticipation, frustration, relief, edginess, and on it goes. The entire bubbling pot of feelings has me restless and exhausted, despite hours of sleep.

My body feels like someone has taken a "2 x 4" and hammered me. OK, that's a bit of an exaggeration but whenever the stress levels climb, so also does the physical reaction which for me involves muscles aches and stiffness. "Yoga, Yoga, Yoga...." I whisper to myself but as of yet, no forward movement takes me through the door of the Yoga studio. Paralyzed, I sit with coffee and aspirin and my swirling thoughts.....and then of course, the feelings that come from the thoughts.

I've thought of Laura countless times in the last days. She leaves Florence tomorrow for the long journey home; 4 bags stuffed with her belongings and much left behind for the next group of study abroad students to use. Today she shared with me that she took a long walk through town, by herself (which is unusual), and said her goodbyes to the Duomo, the Ponte Vecchio, San Lorenzo Market, and enjoyed her last gelatto (limon and raspberry). She was chewing on her last "kabob"; her choice for a late lunch when we talked on Skype an hour ago.

How can I explain the feelings of great anticipation when I think of holding her close to me after so many months apart and the simultaneous down to the bone sadness that brings immediate tears to my eyes when I think of her leaving Florence, the place she has called "home base" since September 2008? The sadness comes from a chapter closed, over, ended; only memories to carry her forward. And so what? Why the sadness? Deep inside I know that the young woman we launched from the airport in Portland bound for Europe last fall is not the same young woman we will greet in Seattle tomorrow night. Time....she passes and changes us all and we are caught up in the wave, ever moving forward to places we can only imagine but not control.

Bittersweet, I guess. What else could explain my tears every time I think of her homecoming?

On the local front, my thoughts (and then my feelings) focus sharply on my parents. How wonderful it is to have them situated in a home that is prepared to care for the changing, unpredictable needs of nonagenarians. How fortunate was our family to find this good place and to move swiftly to make the move happen in less than a week from the time they were accepted into the facility? I get it: we are very, very lucky. This is all good (rationalizing).

But...... (and someone smart once said, whenever you use the word but, everything you've said before the but, you really don't believe in. It's what comes after the but that's your hard kernel of truth in that moment. I believe this too.) For all the positive changes in my parent's lives over the past 5 days, I'm pulled away from the relief to wallow in the sadness and the change. Even good change is hard for me to take if it comes with a dose of reality. What was a five minute drive for a quick visit is no more; the travel time to the new home is 30-35 minutes one way. I won't be visiting as often (most say this is a good thing). They still have no phone (most say this is a good thing). They still don't have their US mail delivery or the NY Times (more hassles and time to be spent arranging and re-arranging). Every move comes with a long tail, I like to say......the physical move is the easiest part. Adjustment and re-alignment (of all those former services) feels like a turbulent ride.

And so, the overwhelming feeling when I think about my parents is not relief (as I suspect it is for my siblings), it's sadness. My heart continues to break open as I struggle to accept that there's nothing I can do to fix the fundamental problems. I long to look my mother in the eye, shake her gently and say, "Mom, Mom...wake up, it's me, your daughter. Where are you? Come back, come back. I need you. I still need you." But, it's not to be. That thief we call dementia, that robber of soul, is a tough opponent. If tears are any indication, I haven't yet accepted defeat; I'm still fighting and bucking against a steel wall. And Dad? He's tough to read. I feel for him, living in a home that specializes in dementia care. He will need to find his connections with caregivers who are grounded in the world he lives in and in family who visit.

I want so to fix things. Fixing things is what I do. But, I can't. And that makes me sad. Much like this photograph, of early spring buds, life is on auto-pilot. The buds mature and open, leaves come to life and then they die. The cycle goes on and on without our input.

Little Black Bag

For the second time this month, a small black suitcase stuffed with requested items for my dearest daughter in Florence leaves my home, entrusted into the care of one of her friends who journeys to Italy for a visit. That friends can afford to travel so far afield now-a-days amazes me but so be it. For several weeks before said bag is scheduled for pick up, I receive emails from L.with small lists of things, needed and wanted. Clothing, snacks, DVDs, her graphing calculator from high school, and various other requests. The same bag made the trip just after the New Year and returned stuffed with items no longer needed in Florence; lots of souvenirs and things she'll put in a scrapbook chronicling her travels through Europe, plus clothing that she was tired of wearing.

I always tuck a small note in the suitcase wishing her well. Even though we chat frequently day to day, putting pen to paper, folding the note and putting the sealed envelope inside the bag does something to me. Today it made me miss her all the more. She's been away since early September and won't be home until early May. Her time away has been important for us both; she has become so much more independent and I've had to learn to let go. Sometimes we "push-pull" this process; I become overbearing just when she's trying to spread her wings and then she'll suddenly seem to need my every bit of advice on an issue just when I'm trying to surrender her to forging her own experience. Maybe that's what mothers and daughters do; I don't know. No one talks about it much.

Bottom line: I miss her.

I take pleasure in unpacking this little suitcase and re-packing it with whatever is on that list. This time much of the space is taken up by items that will not need to make the return journey to Seattle come May. Things like Rolled Gold pretzels, Tim's Cascade potato chips, and Better Chedder crackers are tastes of home amidst all the amazing cuisine of Europe. And, that's good because she's already got so much stuff to drag home that much of it will get left behind at the pensione for lack of luggage capacity. All those textbooks, school supplies, bedding and the like may come in useful for the students arriving this fall to start out the next season of study abroad in Florence. Recycled goods; why not?

Safe journeys.

Nice'n Easy Natural Red Blonde

Even after 40 years, Clairol still makes Nice'n Easy Natural Red Blonde hair color. As a teenager, I was introduced to this product and used it off and on for years....so much so that everyone thought my hair was naturally this color. In college I quite dying my hair and let the authentic color evolve. Gradually people forgot, or never knew, I had hair any color other than what it was.


In 1970, at age 16, I was in Europe (and Florence) with Mom and Dad and I was a natural red blonde as seen in these "butt photos" that Dad took of Mom and me. He was famous for taking pictures of us from the rear. I've always wondered about that. You get a good look at Miss Clairol at work however. My hair is much like Mom's color; maybe (but I can't remember) that's what I was trying to achieve. Attempting to minimize the natural frizz in my hair, I took elaborate, somewhat byzantine steps to straighten the look. There were no plug in hair straighteners around in those days. If I was happy with the color, the curl was definitely not my thing and something in demand of daily attention. Some days were easier than others.

In case you can't find us in this butt photo taken between the Duomo and the Baptistery in Florence, look to the lower right in the photo. You'll spot my mother in a green dress and me by her side in a mini-skirt and white top.

What I think about here, in addition to the red-blonde hair, is that little child wearing a hat who stands midway along the bottom half of the photo. That little one is now 40 years old. Many of the other people are long gone. Those that aren't, are much, much older. The natural red blonde gal now has grey in her hair and hasn't sprung for highlights in over a year.

Time passes but Miss Clairol stays much the same.

Florence 1970: Florence 2008

The years pass; 38 to be exact. For the city of Florence, steeped in history, a few decades is nothing. Not quite the same for people who change quite a bit in the same span of time. On our recent trip to Florence, I wanted to get a photograph of Laura and me standing where Mom and I stood so many years ago, my only other time in Europe, during the summer of 1970.

Dad took this picture of Mom and me in front of Ghiberti's famous Baptistry Doors from the Florentine Renaissance. It was July 1970, warm and sunny. I was 16 years old and my Mom was the age I am now. And below, on a breezy, cool November day in 2008, I stood with my daughter, age 20 in front of those same doors in Florence. Time passes. The building doesn't change much if at all.
How do we ever know when we'll "be back" to visit again, or if we'll never be back? I don't suppose I gave this much thought way back then but I do now. Maybe some day, Laura will pose with her daughter or son in front of these doors which Michelangelo called, "the gates of Paradise". Or, maybe not. Only time, most mysterious and elusive, will tell.

Arrivederci Firenze

Goodbye Florence. This is our last evening in the city and the bags are just about packed for the long journey home. We will awaken early tomorrow morning to catch a taxi to the airport, a flight to Amsterdam and then on to Seattle. Leaving is turning out to be one of the more difficult things I've had to do in a long while. While I'm totally ready to get back to more familiar surroundings and sleep in my own bed, bidding goodbye to Laura seems tougher by the minute. When she left in early September, I knew that a trip fairly soon was in our future. Now the time looms long as I think about the next five plus months apart. I may have to come back!

The last few days have been busy. Friday we spent in Florence; exploring the area south of the Arno River, near the Pitti Palace and through the Boboli Gardens. In the afternoon, Laura and I scoured the stores for brown boots. There were lots of options; she finally found just the right pair; my treat. All the women are wearing stylish boots over jeans and the Pashmina scarves are everywhere now that the weather has turned cool.

Saturday we took a train to the small, quaint walled city of Lucca west of Florence. We rented bicycles and "rode the wall" which is a popular way to see the city. After a glass or two of wine with lunch, biking felt a bit odd but was great nonetheless. The quiet of lovely Lucca, compared to Florence, was as calming as a yoga class. No vespas! And as pedestrians and bikers, we were treated well. I could spend some quality time in Lucca; highly recommended.

Today, our last day, was a bit frenetic as we tried to figure out how to navigate through a stressful period of time. The anticipation of saying goodbye and making the most of the "last moments" together was a blend of the bitter and the sweet. The day was crystal clear,beautifully accentuating the stucco colors against a brilliant backdrop. Today was about shopping; in the upscale stores (Laura) and through the endless stalls of the San Lorenzo Market (me). We enjoyed an early dinner as the midnight blue of evening descended, the moon and Venus high above. I thought about the "day blind" stars (and moon) over Seattle today as dusk caught us up in her magic.
Goodbye Florence. A wonderful 10 days spent with our youngest. Thanks to all back home who kept up with the pace of life.

She is the Reason

We may be in a wonderful city with endless sights and potential experiences but that's not really why we are here. This is why.....

It has been so wonderful to spend time with Laura. Although I'm getting deep into culture shock and craving the home front, I still don't want to leave because of this one here.

photo above left is taken in front of the GU campus in Florence

photo on right taken in the Boboli Gardens, Florence

Few Words, Mostly Pictures

Michelangelo's last work

unfinished Pieta

Museo delle'Opera del Duomo

fresh produce for sale


fresco at Santa Croce Cathedral


the Campanile Bell Tower
at the Duomo



the Duomo at Santa Maria
del Fiore


the Leaning Tower

behind the Duomo in Pisa

The photo opportunities are limitless whether inside or outside, sunny blue sky or drenching rain. My brain is on overload, packed with images of great beauty, grace, and monumental scale.

Italy After a Week

I haven't posted in a few days; by the evening, I'm either so tipsy on wine, tired out from all the activities, or spending time with the guide book planning for the next day. It's early in the morning now; you all in the USA are likely sleeping (I hope well). I'm listening to the sound of Vespa scooters buzz by the hotel window. Ubiquitous, noisy, and moving aggressively through main streets and side streets for about 18 hours a day. No surprise to me: this is one very vivid memory I took away from Florence the last time I was here way back in 1970.

We've been in Florence for a week now; it has been wonderful to see Laura and live the magnificence of this old city. The modern, totally overshadowed by history leaves me in awe, as it should. The memories of this very special trip will be with me forever.

The last couple days we've left the city for side trips. Wednesday we joined Rebecca, originally from Denmark, who moved to the area 13 years ago and who now owns and operates her own business, Tuscan Wine Tours. This day long trip started at 8:30 and ended at 6; we joined 3 other couples plus Rebecca for a personally guided tour through gorgeous Tuscan countryside south of Florence. We visited two very different wineries; both producers of the famous Brunello wines of the region and enjoyed an authentic Tuscan lunch with four courses plus bread and wine in a countryside home. The weather was gorgeous (and that says a lot since many of the days have been very rainy) which made for wine tasting possible outside on a porch with views of rolling hills in the distance and fresh pressed olive oil drizzled on crusty bread an absolute slice of paradise.

The first winery was quite small, organic and run by a woman originally from the U.K. and her Italian partner. We enjoyed an overview of the entire wine making process, from the grape vines, how they are maintained (pesticide free), pruned, harvested and mysteriously turned into great tasting Brunello wine; quite the art as well as science. Olive trees ready for picking were everywhere and she served us cold press fresh oil (....olives-on-the-tree-earlier-this-week fresh) bread and sea salt along with generously filled glasses of garnet colored wine.

The second winery, owned and operated by three generations living in the same home was a nice contrast to the first stop. The winery produces considerably more bottles and is more widely known commercially. We not only tasted the Brunellos but tried the grappa as well which reminded me a bit of kerosene (yum). The views of the Tuscan countryside from this locale were breathtaking. Both Denny and I remarked that we had never seen land like this, rolling hills with unique vegetation catching the light at mysteriously beautiful angles.

We made our purchases; two bottles to bring home (one of which is meant to be stored and savored years down the line) and two to drink here in Florence. We shared one of those bottles with Laura last evening in our hotel room. She's learning to enjoy wine; it's a process to detach from the sugary sweet shots and the local favorite Irish pub drink in Florence, the "Irish Car Bomb" (Guiness, Irish whiskey, and something else....ugh) that flourish during the college days of 2008.

Yesterday we made a soggy trip by train east to Pisa. I'll post more about that later. In the drenching rain I bought yet another umbrella from a street vendor. The leaning tower is definitely leaning. The Duomo cathedral and the Baptistry housed in the same square were equally impressive.

Today we'll stay put in Florence since rain is again in the forecast. The weekend should be drier and we're' tentatively planning a trip to Lucca, a walled city northeast of Florence that is highly rated. Each day brings new treasures (and challenges). I'm glad to be here. As our time winds down, I have bittersweet feelings about returning home.

Rainy Monday

Today was about rain, puddles, and cooler temperatures in Florence. Nonetheless, we had a great day meeting up with Denny's niece Julie, her husband Thierry and their three wonderful sons who drove from their home in France just to spend some time with us in Florence. We haven't seen Julie in ten years so this was a sweet reunion, a chance to reminisce and meet their three boys, Benjamin, Christopher, and Nicholas. We enjoyed a leisurely lunch together, catching up on family news. After Laura headed back to class we spent a few more hours with the Motets, wandering the streets of Florence around the Duomo and the Plaza della Signoria, eating gelatto (of course) and taking in the view of the Arno River near the Ponte Vecchio.

The Duomo was particularly beautiful today, especially when the skies cleared for those few moments. I suppose this imposing wonder is fabulous under any conditions. The inside of the dome, complete with frescoes made me want to lie down on the ground to take it all in. The photograph barely does justice to the magnificent colors.

Tomorrow is another day. Election Day. We'll be touring the Uffizi Gallery, eating more gelatto, and bargaining with vendors selling Pashmina scarves. We won't know the results of the election until sometime on Wednesday given the 9 hour time difference.

Good night from Florence.

Presidential Election: Italian Predictions

I saw this sign posted in the window of a store selling, among other things, lotto tickets. It says, "Si dave prognositcare il candidato che vincera te Elezione Pesidenziali d'America....."

Obama Barack 1,15

McCain John 5,50

I'm assuming this means that one can place a bet on the election. If the Democratic ticket wins the return on the bet is only 15 percent. If the Republican ticket wins, the return is 550 percent. Sure looks like those Florentines bent on predicting the outcome of our election are banking on Obama becoming our next president.

We'll just have to see. On Election Day we'll be touring the Uffizi Gallery looking at Botticelli paintings and thinking of things non-political. But, you can bet we'll be very interested in learning the outcome come Wednesday morning in Florence.

Intensity Florentine Style

Oh my, but this is a gorgeous OLD CITY, breathing history at every turn.

Medici Palace, ceiling fresco

This is our second full day in Florence. Mid afternoon finds us weary and overwhelmed, in a good way, with all that we've seen today. Our feet and legs feel like lead weights; no blisters just road weary from walking miles and miles on uneven cobblestone. After whirlwind tours of the Medici Palace, the Medici Chapel and the Accademia, a fabulous lunch (followed by gelatto of course) and more walking we gave in to the overload and retreated to the hotel for a rest. We've got plans for tonight; another twenty minute walk back to a small church where there's a "gospel concert" which sounds interesting.

I need to process all the beauty I've seen today from the amazing frescoes in the chapel at the Medici Palace, to the sculptures of Michelangelo at the Medici Chapel and the Galleria dell Accademia. Wonders, all. No photography was allowed except in certain parts of the Medici Palace so much of today is archived in the "mind's eye". Of course there are always the souvenir books and postcards everwhere.

The lemon trees were so tempting in this garden at the Medici Palace but I resisted picking any of the fruit.

Santa Croce Church to the left is the burial place of Michelangelo, Machiavelli, and Gallileo. We only took in the exterior today but will return for the frescoes and other wonders inside on another day. Such is the plan for the Church of San Marco as well. So many churches, so little time. But truly, they are all unique treasures and we intend to explore as many as possible.

Till tomorrow.

Saturday in Firenze

Somehow when you wake up at 9:30 AM after a really good night's sleep and the skies in Florence are sunny, jet lag resulting from crossing eight times zones tends to evaporate. Delighted with the rush of energy generated by authentic Italian cappuccino, the gorgeous, cool day and and our enthusiastic daughter, we set out to see the sights. One of the best places for fabulous views of the old city are from this spot, the Piazzale Michelangelo on the south side of the Arno River. A hilltop venue easily accessable by bus allowed us to save our energy for the slow walk (downhill) through old neighborhoods in the Oltrarno area of town, then across the Ponte Vecchio bridge into the famous Piazza della Signora and further on to the Piazza del Duomo. The terra cotta dome of the Cathedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore, the Campanile belltower, and the Baptistry are so breathtaking whether up close or from a distance as in this photograph.

Today was not about museums but more about walking about, taking in the flavor of the city on foot, the outdoor artwork, the al fresco dining at lunch, and the gelatto. We took lots of photographs and enjoyed plenty of narration on the history of various sights along the way from D who has read The Agony and the Ecstasy at least a dozen times and was well prepared by tour books. Nice.

I'm determined to sample a new flavor of gelatto every day that I'm here; yesterday was caramel, today coffee with ribbons of chocolate. The choices are endless.

We've got big plans for tomorrow; on to the Accademia to see Michelangelo's David and a tour of the Medici Palace. More food, more wine, more gelatto and a concert in the evening. It's all good.




Ciao for now.

Jet Lagged into Eating Lardo

It amazes me that just 24 hours ago D and I boarded a plane bound from Seattle to Amsterdam and then connected to another that touched down in Florence earlier today. It's almost 10 PM here, 2 PM back in Seattle. It's Halloween and your fun stuff is all ahead. Here in Florence you'd never know that it's October 31st. No pumpkins anywhere.

It's great to be here. We arrived to cloudy skies and this evening a steady, light rain started, but it's not cold. A quick taxi ride into town and we were checked into our hotel in short order. Starving for a real meal, we met up with Laura who suggested a sandwich shop in the Plaza San Marco; she ordered for us in Italiano and we ate outside. The jet leg hadn't really hit by then and we were able take a quick tour of the Gonzaga campus (all one building, old and impressive) and then made a quick stop at her pensione, the Savanarola. I was able to off load the half a suitcase full of stuff she had me bring. Clothing, Halloween candy, and miscellaneous must-haves filled up half a dozen plastic bags which we toted from our hotel to her room at the pensione; fortunately only a five minute walk.

By mid afternoon the jet lag attacked with ferocity, even after a shot of Italian espresso downed with my sandwich at San Marco. D and I decided to take a "nap" until dinnertime. Our hotel room has a single window overlooking a side street which is quiet now but this afternoon was busy with the drone of Vespa scooters and pedestrian chatter. It didn't matter; we slept anyway and recharged ourselves enough to go out of a wonderful dinner. I'm hoping that when we go to bed tonight and sleep 8 hours or so, we'll know what planet we're on and what time it is when we awaken.

This evening we walked through the San Lorenzo Marketplace on the way to dinner at Trattoria ZaZa. We were joined by Laura's roomate Lillian, Lillian mother, who's visiting from Alabama, and Annie, another GU in Florence student. The food and wine and sparkling water (and "lardo") were fabulous. Denny and Laura split an appetizer plate of "dried meats" with salami, prosciutto, pepperoni, garnished with sundried tomato and black olives. Although not advertised on the menu, there was also a small sample of "lardo" on the plate which is the white stuff in this photo. D says he has seen lardo on many Italian menus but he's never eaten any. Curious to find out what the white stuff was, D asked "Was that lardo?" and got the affirmative from the waiter. D responded, "Bono!". His accolade was taken to heart by the waiter who five minutes later brought him an entire plate of lardo to enjoy as an extra treat. Apparently a compliment about lardo brings on much more of the same! Check out the lardo in this shot of the extra plate. Don't worry, he (we) didn't eat it although it might have been good if we'd been making another batch of traditional Christmas pudding this year.

We got a laugh out of the lard fest. Her are some other shots of our first big evening in Firenze.

Now I'm off to bed and hopefully tomorrow will bring clearing skies and lots of energy for walking the cobblestone streets and reliving the majesty of this city after nearly 4 decades since my last visit.

Ciao.