Driving to the museum in the cultural heart of Milano, we found the pedestrian traffic heavy, not quite up to Times Square at Christmas, but bustling. We got close, Google map directing, when we noticed, surprisingly suddenly, there were no other cars on our street. We were dodging walkers, dogs, shoppers, and lovers all weaving about the street before us, but no vehicles. Road signs are hard to quickly translate if we even see one, but something was amiss. We went a couple of blocks to find a turn-off. People staring at us along the way – people who were scattering from the road before us! We may expect a letter with a fine in the mail in about 6 months if our record holds true. Farewell Milano!
South to Chiavari.
Now, settled, comfortable, stuff put away. Setting down our things, putting clothes in drawers, and knowing a place will be home for a while is so comforting. We have a tiny spot – a hidey-hole of an Air B&B. One never knows these things until one actually gets through the front door, so it’s always a bit of a surprise. This is perfectly usable, with entry doors in every room, so we can each take and make calls with relative privacy, tall, ten-foot windows to bring in light, and the airy, slightly echoey space that very high ceilings can impart. The window linens are as usual in Italy, delicate and lacy. Italian windows, one can rave about them – they put a lot into a window, which opens both in and out, up and down, with pull-down outside coverings against the weather. We have ongoing window envy. Why can’t we have great windows too? (whine)
Also, typically, we have cabinets, desks, clothes-wardrobes, and somewhat jumbled linens in most of the furniture shelves, leaving one to think that perhaps someone’s old auntie used to inhabit here, and they hated to throw away all of her old but still usable linens, none of which match. We are warm and have plenty of food, and even throughout yesterday’s rain – good internet service, on which we are both dependent.
Italian dwellings, in comparison with American abodes, have strong reverberance in most floor, wall, and other surfaces, which means that after the doors slam, we bang around in the kitchen, start up the washing machine like a trial run of some Boeing engine, clank chair legs, and the table tops are each clattery. It’s how things always are here – everything is tiled within an inch of its life, and so noise is amplified. I think of Lew and I as quiet – that might be presumptive of me — so we go about our business and savor the differences between cultures.
We are both working on – trying to achieve – hoping to improve -workmanlike disciplines around writing and the individual tasks we do. We function rather well together, amazingly, in a smallish space.
It’s Epiphany – celebrating the day the Kings bring the gifts to the Christ child, and so we do not know yet if there is any place open, but we’ll go out later and see what the neighborhood has to say for itself. The little fresh fruit and veggie dealer right downstairs looks very promising, if it’s open. There are oranges on the trees lining the seaside street, so perhaps there is hope of fruit that doesn’t come with green streaks still in it.
There are few such stores open, and we are rain-promised, so we hang out, WhatsApp with friends, make meals, and work a little. All good, except for our time zone differences haven’t quite kicked in yet; we both are awake at 3 am and sleepy in the mid-morning. We can do laundry, though – it’s anyone’s guess at what we are choosing — It seems like velocity.
The separation of trash items here is serious business, and there are containers in the street for glass, paper, plastics, compostables, and ordinary waste. Everyone takes their color-coded bags and puts them into the appropriate bins that are placed all over.
A new idea here is that they have automatic vending machines in the street for water. As you know – we pay for water here, by the bottled liter. Cheaper by far and presumably cutting down on plastics – we can refill at the corner machine for .10-.15, per liter using our own bottles. Much cheaper (restaurants get 2-3 EU for each 2 liter bottle) Loving that.
We take walks around the neighborhood, checking out small stores, stopping for coffee, looking and seeing. Ordinarily, neighborhood stores are SMALL, too. Paper stores that sell albums, paper plates, napkins, and such. Stores that sell gizmos with motors. Butcher shops and pastry shops. Bars that sell our Cappuccini and a small sandwich or a pastry to keep one going are sometimes about twelve feet wide, with a couple of tables and chairs thrown in for customers. It is also interesting that they usually have little stores open right next to, beneath, or beside, residential living.
We went to the seafront yesterday and could see Portofino off to our right, everything wreathed in clouds. It’s a drippy/rainy season kind of day, but the extra humidity seems to sass up all those palm trees and our skin is feeling happy with the damp kiss of soft Mediterranean air.
Sending Baci and Hugs. Judy and Lew