(To start at the beginning: Adventures in Italy Part 1)

Malpensa Airport to Milano Centrale Station – August, 2016

 I think it’s safe to say that if Kris weren’t with me, I’d still be at the airport trying to figure out how to get a train ticket to Genova (which we call Genoa – I wonder why?). He has some sort of innate ability to understand the ins and outs of travel that I don’t possess. We purchased our tickets via a machine, one stop in Milan to transfer to another train to Genova. We made it to the train just 10 minutes before departure and settled in. 

The trip took about an hour with 5 stops along the way.  At one point, a woman came through and stopped to chat with a lady across the aisle from us, who steadfastly ignored her, which I thought was kind of odd.  Then she turned around and began talking to us in a sad sort of pleading voice.  The light dawned.  “Non parlo Italiano,” I said.  She kept asking, so I said it more loudly and firmly.  She gave us one last pathetic look and moved on to another part of the train.

Milano Centrale station was huge, hot, crowded and confusing!  We tried to find a display which would show where we were supposed to go, since our next train was to depart in 10 minutes or so. Electronic displays were all over the place, but we couldn’t see a trip with the destination Genova Brignole.  We hadn’t eaten lunch, which was becoming a distracting issue as well, since there was no food available on the train.  We knew that if we missed our train, we could take another one – the tickets are good all day, but once you validate your ticket you have to use it within 4 hours.  We hadn’t validated ours yet, but had committed to being at the B&B in Genova by a certain time, so we wanted to make sure that there was another train that would get us there in a timely manner.  We looked into exchanging our ticket to upgrade to a faster train with fewer stops but were told that wasn’t possible. By this time, our train was gone and hunger was taking a decided priority.  How can one think properly on an empty stomach?  However, we couldn’t in good conscience enjoy any food with the uncertainty of our train trip hanging over our heads. Kris finally figured out which train we could take and it would arrive in Genova only 25 minutes later than our original plan.  Time to eat!

There were shops and little places to eat all over the station, so we chose a place called “Bistrot Centrale,” which appeared to be a cafeteria style place with many little stations. We looked over the menu posted at the entrance and while Kris wanted a sandwich of some sort, the Caesar salad with chicken looked really good to me. Simple, right?  I approached the counter and said, “Vorrai un Caesar Salad e un croissant simplice, per favore.” I thought I was doing pretty well with the language, but the woman looked vaguely exasperated and did not appear to speak English. She pointed away from her counter when I asked again about the Caesar salad, so I got the idea that I couldn’t get a salad from her. I desperately wanted to go to a place where we could sit down and be handed a menu, so we discussed our options, but there weren’t any other places to get a full meal. In the end, Kris decided to get a sandwich and my croissant from the sandwich lady and I went down to the other end to enquire about the salad, although none of the stations had a sign saying “Insalata.” I approached another counter somewhat nervously and discovered that the young man there spoke some English – hallelujah! I enquired again about the Caesar salad and he assured me I had come to the right place. He beckoned me down to the end of the counter and indicated that one bowl had the basics (lettuce, tomatoes) and I could choose from the other bowls to build my own salad. Visions of a Caesar salad began to dissipate as I looked over the choices. He indicated that I could choose one meat (of 3) and either olives or walnuts. None of the meats were recognizable, so I asked him what they were.  “Octopus, swordfish and __________.”  I didn’t recognize the last word, but it looked like sardines.  PASS.   “Could I have olives AND nuts if I skip the meat?” I also chose edamame and corn.  We found a place to sit down and enjoyed the meal, but I never did understand why I couldn’t order a food item that was on the menu. Just one of the hazards of doing business in a foreign country, I guess. 

We still had about an hour to kill before our train departed and there were 3 levels to explore. First we needed to find a bathroom – how hard can that be in a huge public place like this?  We looked for obvious signs (the universal bathroom sign), but didn’t see any, so we went to a display that showed a schematic for each floor. Finally we spotted one on our floor and went off to find it. Dead end – it wasn’t where we thought it would be. In desperation we went back to the Bistrot Centrale and while Kris wandered through the place looking for a sign, I stopped and asked the woman at the front cash register. She was very friendly and proceeded to give me instructions in a mixture of Italian and English. She pointed down toward the end of the restaurant and said something about stairs.  Then she said “48A” and made sure I understood it by holding up 4 fingers, then 8 fingers and then made an “A” with her fingers.  Oh boy, this was sounding rather complicated.  Then she said something about “3.” When she finished, she asked me if I’d understood everything.  I had no idea what she was talking about, but figured if I told her “no” she’d just start up again with the same inscrutable instructions. I assured her confidently that I understood and went in the direction she had indicated. Kris hadn’t been successful yet, so I told him I’d gotten the scoop, hoping it would make sense as we went along.  Sure enough, we found an elevator and stairs. We got on the elevator and went to the 3rd floor, figuring that must have been the “3.”  We went down a hallway and found a door leading to the bathrooms, both of which were locked and had a keypad.  “Oh, it’s a code!! – press 48A!” Sure enough, that got us in. This felt like a major victory, I’ll tell you.

Note: This entry was so long, I split it in two, so next time, we’ll get us from the station to Genova.

Next: Adventures In Italy Part 6

I’ll probably say, “Non parlo, Blogiano” in the morning.

Ever since hearing about electric-assist bikes (hereafter referred to as “e-bikes”), I’ve wanted to try one. I still enjoy biking but pedaling uphill is a challenge, and not a fun one. My husband found a place where we could rent a couple e-bikes for an hour to see how we’d like them. We dropped in at the place, met the proprietor, a nice young man named Luke, and set up an appointment for later in the afternoon.

We showed up for our 2:00 appointment in a timely way. Luke was all ready for us, explained the machines, gave us water bottles and bike helmets and off we went. He had recommended that if we really wanted to test the bikes out, we should take the Mars Hill Trail. In retrospect, I’m honored and flattered that he looked at me and thought “Yes, she can definitely make it up that hill.” He was wrong, but bless the man.

There are 5 levels of assist that you get while you are peddling and then there’s also a throttle that will just move you along without peddling. In my mind, I figured that’s what you use when going uphill and the old legs just can’t do the work. There are also all the different gears that you’d expect on a bike and you can always choose a “0” level of assist for the easy parts. We started out with confidence – this is fun! But reality (for me) soon set in.

First of all the trail was a dirt trail, so that added a layer of difficulty all by itself. Secondly, even the more “level” parts of the trail were all going inexorably uphill and then we got the serious uphill part. Kris was ahead of me and I realized pretty soon that level 5 wasn’t going to cut it. I pressed the throttle and prepared to let the machine take me to the top. “Oh no you don’t,” the bike said to me. I got some exciting few moments of momentum and then the throttle feature petered out. I got off the bike and couldn’t figure out how to get started again – it’s a heavy bike and hard to keep balance while trying to start from a standstill on a steep incline. So I walked it up a bit until coming to a relatively level area. I realized belatedly that I had kept the bike in high gear instead of putting it in low gear on the uphill, so that was a problem too. I lowered the gear while we were standing there (Kris came back for me) and tried it again. Keep in mind that the exertion was already such that I was panting and gasping. Kris had to hold the bike steady for me so I could get a good start, but it was to no avail. There was just no way I was going to make it up that hill, level 5 assist/low gear notwithstanding.

We went back down and coming to the intersection where the steep uphill started, we decided to go the other way, which seemed fairly level. But it was really rocky and tough going. And then we came to another hill. I couldn’t face it and of course Kris couldn’t go on without me, so we headed back. It was all downhill, so I mostly just kept my hands on the brakes and tried to keep my balance.

We made our way back to the bike shop, having by now taken up our whole hour anyway. We both decided that we’d prefer riding on pavement to dirt trails. And I had learned that the throttle feature was a short burst feature, better employed on level ground than on a hill. Luke told us that there are bikes with bigger motors that can handle more uphill work. All in all, it was an excellent learning experience.

If you’ve used e-bikes, what did you think of them?

I’m throttling back on this post in the morning.

The Willow Woman had a wreath of bright yellow leaves around her head and a necklace of autumn-red leaves around her neck. She never went anywhere without them and indeed could be spotted from far away when her leaves twinkled and fluttered as she walked.

One day, the mischievous West Wind decided to play a trick on the Willow Woman. He’d seen those beautiful leafy garlands and thought they’d look much better sailing through the skies. As she was out walking, he approached with gentle breezes and at the last moment grabbed out with strong gusty fingers and lifted them right off. “Got ‘em!” he exulted and carried them away high into the warm sapphire skies where they twirled and twisted in his hands.

“Oh, my crown! My necklace!” cried the Willow Woman as she ran to get them back. “The West Wind has stolen my jewels!” Having raised the alarm, she continued running, but it was futile. The Wind was too fast and the leaves were too high above her. There was none that could help her. She wept in frustration and sorrow over this great loss. The Sun took pity on her. Just as he was disappearing below the horizon, he whispered in her ear, “Meet me on the field just after dawn. Do not be late.” The words faded away and purple night came.

The Willow Woman was up before dawn, pacing back and forth in the field. At last, the Sun began his ascent. When the first true rays cast their lengthy lines over the world, he called out, “I’ve given you long legs – do not wait another moment. Run, Willow Woman! Your legs will carry you farther and higher than you’ve ever gone before, but only for a short time. Run and catch that thief!”

So she ran, and to her amazement, she was able to cover miles and miles in just a few steps. Her head was halfway to the top of the sky. She looked as she ran and before long, she saw a fiery red-gold whirlwind ahead. The West Wind looked behind him and saw her gaining on him. He’d been up all night making his new toys dance in the sky, but now he was slowing down. The Willow Woman leaped and reached and with long fingers she seized what was hers. And just in time, for as the Sun steadily rose, her legs began to shorten and her pace faltered.

She put her crown and necklace back on and shook her fist at the naughty West Wind. “Don’t you know what happens to tricksters and thieves?” The West Wind laughed at her. She was now back to her normal size and he did not fear her. But the Lord of the sun, wind and the whole wide world grabbed hold of the laughing West Wind and spanked him all the way across the globe till he cried.

As the sun rises in the morning, I’ll catch this post and delete it.

Trigger warning for those of you who are food purists; you may be sickened by what you read here.

I realized a couple days ago that I hadn’t had a Twinkie in years and years. Why have I neglected these beautiful little bundles of goodness? Hostess stopped making them a few years ago, but someone else heroically took up the mantle to make sure that we wouldn’t have to live in a Twinkie-less world (they’re still sold by Hostess Brand, however). Capitalism at its best, people.

Today was the day that Twinkies re-entered my orbit. What can I say? How can I describe the happiness that ensued?

Twinkie, Twinkie, little star,
What a wondrous thing you are.
Spongy goodness filled with cream,
Tasty foodiness like a dream.
Twinkie, Twinkie, little star
What a wondrous thing you are.

The only way I can go forward from here, as I see it, is to learn how to make them myself. Who’d like to volunteer to be my guinea pig?

Happy sigh…

I’ll probably fill this spongy blog with cream and eat it in the morning.

I don’t have anything new going on in the workshop at the moment, so I’ll share something old.

This was part of a set of seven that I made for someone. The watercolor was copied from something I saw on Pinterest (no surprises there). I added the prayer excerpt to it knowing it had special significance to the recipient.

Happy Wednesday!

I’ll probably do you know what in the you know when.

(To start at the beginning: Adventures in Italy Part 1)

Hotel Le Robinie – August 2016

 Today is the day that our journey really begins.  Kris has meetings until around noon and then we will take a taxi to the airport, catch a train to Milano, and then catch another train to Genoa. 

So, it turns out that each floor of the hotel has 2 elevators and 3 stairwells, only one of which is the non-locking kind and they all look identical in their signage.  Naturally, I managed to find the other locked staircase the next time I went downstairs and had to be rescued again.  I’m done with the stairs here. 

The lights in the hallways are motion activated, so that as you walk down the hall, lights turn on as you enter each new section.  It’s like getting some sort of amazing red carpet treatment.  Isn’t that smart?  Think of all the electricity they’re conserving!

I walked over to a shopping area yesterday afternoon while Kris was in a meeting.  It was like a strip mall with a super Wal-mart (stuff and groceries).  I went into the Wal-mart-type store and wandered around looking at stuff.  It turns out Italian stuff isn’t much different from American stuff, except with Italian labels and prices in Euros. 

The sign says:  School soon…go! (or something like that)

Leaving the store was more difficult than I had anticipated.  There were lots of little exit areas, each one by a cash register, but they had forbidding looking symbols on them and I noticed that people who were leaving were sticking something in a device which allowed them to leave (found out later that these were their receipts).  What?  I found an exit (uscite) that appeared to be safe and tried to proceed through it but was waved away by a stern-looking woman with a couple words that needed no interpretation.  Perplexed by this turn of events, I began mentally reviewing what little Italian I knew to try and formulate the question of how I could leave this place (shades of Hotel California!!).  I walked down to the other end of the store and just as I was about to ask someone, saw one last uscite that seemed safe and walked through it without incident.  Just one more reminder that “we’re not in Kansas anymore.” 

I saw another example of Italian brilliance in the parking lot.  Each parking space is lined with paving stones that are cut in such a way to create little diamond-shaped spaces in a pattern.  Each diamond was filled with crab grass and other weedy plants, but because they were in a pattern, the overall effect was one of beauty, rather than the usual ugly appearance of weeds.

Probably should have taken the photo from farther away, but you get the idea.

Kris and I went back to the mall later and had a chance to use our Italian when we bought some gelato and then pizza by the slice for each of us, birra (beer) for Kris, and aqua naturale (non carbonated water) for me.  The vendors knew about as much English as we knew Italian, but it wasn’t too much of a hindrance.  The gelato lady started dishing up my cone and seemed to be asking me if I wanted another scoop, to which I replied “no.”  She nodded and it seemed that we had worked it all out and then she proceeded to give me another scoop.  All in all, not a bad outcome. 

 Piu dopo!  (More later)
Ciao!
Love,
Lynn/Mom

I’ll probably delete this in the morning – all in all, not a bad outcome.

Adventures In Italy Part 5

It’s been quite a gooply day today. If you haven’t heard of that word before, don’t bother looking it up. I made it up for a silly alphabet book that I made for our oldest son when he was 8 years old. Most of the words were fairly forgettable, but a few have stuck in our family lexicon.

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I went to put some mail in the mailbox this morning and the driveway was so gooply with worms it was hard to avoid walking on the repulsive little wrigglers. You may use this word as much as you please because I really think our English vocabulary needs it.

Another word from that book that was well used in our family was “heinlip: the last bite of a meal.”

Sometimes one of the kids would look at a sibling’s plate and say, “Are you going to eat the heinlip?” It was a polite way of foraging for more food.

One of the best words to emerge, from a parental standpoint, was the word “Xinli,” which means “The sound of someone getting ice cream out of the freezer.” We used this word a LOT after all the kids were in bed.

The total eclipse was a bust in our neck of the woods, but at least I got to revisit some of these funky words today. And now you also know why no one has been contacting me to become a book illustrator. My usual style is stick people so this was quite fancy for me.

I’m on a roll, so here’s a BRAND NEW WORD: “Blogocide,” the destruction of blog posts in the morning.

Sometimes, like today, I come to the end of the day and realize that I have forgotten to post something on this here blog. “Oh no!” I think to myself, “How could I let my adoring fans down like this?” You must allow me this little conceit of thinking that I have adoring fans who would have to choke down a tear or two if my cheery email doesn’t arrive to save the day.

This is when my ability to say something about nearly nothing comes in the most handy. You’re still reading, aren’t you? You’ve been dragged along into this post in spite of your own good sense that there isn’t any real content. But wait! There’s more! Yes, more cards up my sleeve in the form of a motley assortment of photos. You’ve come this far – you might as well stick it out for those, too. The theme, “something about nothing” holds true.

Now you can go to bed with a merry heart. You’re welcome!

I’ll probably…zzzzzz

After dabbling in roosters for awhile, here’s the last one, painted from an original photo this time, rather than a copy of watercolors I found on Pinterest. I call him “Mr. Sunset.”

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For comparison, here’s the original photo:

Look at that rooster and tell me there’s not a God who made him. What a glorious creature!

Rising up early, he speaks to you,
Rising up early, he teaches you
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!”
Which, if you are listening rightly, means
”Amend your ways and your doings,
And obey the voice of the LORD your God.”
He speaks before the sunrise,
He embodies a living sunset.
What more do you need?

I’ve been reading in the book of Jeremiah these days, so since I’ve put Jeremiah’s words in his mouth, I further name him “Jeremiah Sunset.”

In my continuing quest to create a nice watercolor border for quotes, I submit the following:

It’s an improvement on the first one (which dissolved into a chaos of misbegotten leaves) and the second one (which didn’t look at all like what I had envisioned), but I hope I will continue to improve with practice.

Thank you for your kind attentions to my blog posts.

This post will dissolve into a chaos of words in the morning.

(To start at the beginning: Adventures in Italy Part 1)

Milan (sort of) – August 2016

We’re not actually in Milan, oddly enough.  The airport is in Malpensa, which is about 45-60 minutes north of Milan. The hotel, Le Robinie, is 10 minutes from the airport.  

Kris just left for the rest of his meeting today and I’m under strict instructions not to sleep, so once again, I can devote some time to sending an email that still doesn’t contain a lot of information about Italia.

The flight from Atlanta to “Milan” was long: about 8 1/2 hours.  When I found my seat, I was delighted to see that a little pillow and a blanket were already there waiting for me. I tore open the wrapping on the blanket and used it like a shawl the entire time.  Ahhh…..  I wanted you all to have a sense of closure about that.  

A nice young Italian man was sitting next to me.  His girlfriend was just across the aisle from him and I toyed very briefly (VERY) with the thought of letting her have my window seat so they could sit together.  I’m not as nice as you think I am – I kept the window seat and wasn’t sorry about it either.  

I “slept” for a couple fitful hours after it got dark.  It’s like trying to sleep in a hospital, except with even more noise and interruptions, announcements, beepings and the like. The best part was when I decided to open the shade to see if it was starting to get light again and caught the very beginning of the new day at the top of the world.  It was breathtaking! I felt like waking everybody up: “Look out the window!!”

The descent was absolutely stunning. We went over a mountain range (Italian Alps?) and the peaks were surrounded on all sides with a cloud layer, like snow on the ground. As we got closer to the airport and farther away from the mountains, the clouds receded and I could concentrate on the countryside.  

In God’s sweet providence, Kim (the other Syngenta spouse) and I did not have to take a taxi to the hotel, since another Syngenta employee had gotten in to the airport a little earlier than us and was renting a van.  Yea!  

Kris was in a meeting when we arrived, so Kim and I went to our rooms to change and freshen up a little. I was very perplexed about how to turn the lights on. I pressed all sorts of things on the wall that seemed like they might be light switches, but nothing worked. I went out into the hall and flagged down a maid. “Scusi!”  “Non parlo inglese” she said with a look of alarm on her face. I was just getting started with my attempt at asking the question in Italian (Le luce…the lights…) when Don (the van man) came out and told me you have to put your key card in a slot in the wall.  Half an hour later, I realized I should go find Kris, since they were taking a lunch break and I spent FIVE MINUTES looking for that dumb key card, having already forgotten that it was in the wall. I was wandering around the room muttering, “How could I have lost it already?”  I’m blaming it on the lack of sleep.  

I decided to take the stairs down instead of the elevator – wouldn’t you? Well, I got to the bottom and found out that the only exit was an emergency exit which warned of alarms going off if I opened the door. Oh well… I went back to the first floor – the door was locked.  I went to the other two floors – all locked. Haven’t even been in the hotel for an hour and I’m trapped in the stairwell. I fired off a text to Kris and it turns out he had just been to our room looking for me, so he came to my rescue and we were reunited at last! He said he did the same thing the first morning he was here.

We had lunch with the Syngenta peeps – I sat next to the only Italian in the group, Rafaelle – very nice man.  I explained to him that Kris and I had been trying to learn some Italian and he obliged me by teaching me how to say “very little” in Italian, so we could explain to other Italians how much of the language we know: molto poco.  

Kim and Don just stopped by – they’re going to take a train or bus into Milan (about an hour ride) to see the Duomo and asked if I wanted to go along.  Don’t judge me, but I declined.  A: I’m low on stamina right now, and B: my introvert side was screaming that spending an entire afternoon sightseeing with people I didn’t know would be exhausting.  No regrets. Kris and I will be back in Milan next week and will take in the sights then.  I’ll spend the afternoon doing a little research on our train trip to Genoa tomorrow and will probably take a walk outside – it’s a beautiful day in Italy!

Ciao!!
Love,
Lynn/Mom

I’ll probably put this in the “molto poco” bin in the morning.

Adventures in Italy Part 4

I had not realized that the older we got, the more attention we would have to give to sorting our stuff and winnowing the chaff from the grain. Add in the stuff from departed loved ones and there’s a serious sorting situation in the works. I’m determined to sift through and organize all the family genealogical documents and photos my Mom accumulated, as well.

Speaking of photos, I read a book many years ago called Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury. I don’t remember much about it, except for the presence of a character who did not find any value in old photographs, or in any photographs at all. The character was completely untethered from those little pictorial fragments that mean so much to our lives, or at least to mine. It was a strange perspective, but one that seemed to free this person from much that would weigh him/her down. I can see that there is a point at which the accumulation of memorabilia can become a weight rather than treasure.

So yes, sorting and winnowing is the theme of this phase of my life. Do we want this thing? Do we need it? If we get rid of it, will we regret it? Could somebody else make better use of it? I’ve been setting aside some time each week to go through places that need the winnowing fan, but I can only do so much at a time – so many decisions are wearying.

I’ll separate the wheat from the chaff in this post in the morning.