Guess who has joined the Cub Scouts? Here's my little Tiger Cub wearing his uniform for the first time!
Day Five and Six (Tuesday and Wednesday): Florence and Fiesole
There was one more part about Florence that I didn't write about yesterday - the part where we approach the street that I used to live on, where all sorts of memories come rushing back, where we turn left and start the climb up the road - a road so tiny you wouldn't be able to open any of the doors in some places, and then the part where we stop in front of the enormous green gate and I get out of the car.
I get out of the car and stare at the gate and think about how many times I climbed that hill, panting for breath, fished around in my purse for the key, opened the gate, heard it clank hard against the stone wall, closed the gate, and walked into the yard.
How many times I leaned as far as I could out my bedroom window, over the rose bushes, to see if I could see the white of envelopes in the tiny slit in the mail box on the inside of the gate. My mail was only delivered about once every three weeks, in batches. For close to a month I'd wait and wait and wait, and then I'd get three or four letters at once. No email, very few phone calls, just letters, long letters written from good friends, from family, from my boyfriend. How I savored those letters.
So there I stood, outside of the gate. The name plate to the right is different, and it has two families names and two bells now. I cannot imagine how they divided the house, or if they built another, smaller house on the property. I cannot see over the gate, not even if I stand on the hood of the car. I try to peer through a crack where the gate swings open, but my vision is limited to slivers of the stone pathway, a bench, some rose bushes, and Andrea's bedroom window. It all looks much smaller to me now.
How badly I want to buzz the bell and explain who I am, how badly I want to go inside and look around. But I don't do it, I can't do it. I get back in the car and we continue up the road, make a left and then a right, drive past Andrea's elementary school, then make another right and drive along, me pointing out the houses of people I knew, the boys asking questions. In cold weather it often smelled like burning leaves and garden debris on that road, the smoke wafting up into a gray sky.
At one intersection a memory comes rushing back. It is the memory of learning a word in Italian. In the car, a tiny Panda, with Andrea in the back seat but leaning forward to talk to me, he tells me how furbo he is. Furbo, I ask, what does that mean? And although I don't remember how he explained it, I know that I learned that the word means clever. He was very clever, he said, and as he used the word he cocked his head, put a finger to his temple and made a small twisting motion. Yes, molto furbo, we both agreed.
Fiesole
After our day in Florence, after the heat had beat us down and my nostalgia had been adequately fed and stirred, we got back in the car and drove up the hills to Fiesole. I have very good memories of Fiesole. I used to drive there in the morning, after Andrea went to school. I had one tape in the car and so I would listen to it every day, singing along to Erasure's "Chains of Love," "Ship of Fools," "A Little Respect," and "Oh L'amour." I'd spend the day with my other family, then drive home.
I hadn't planned well for our trip to Fiesole - I had neither the family's phone number or address with me, although I was sure I'd be able to find it. Drive through town, make a sharp left where it looks like no car could possibly fit, drive about five minutes down a road with phenomenal views of the Tuscan hills, turn right into the Borsini's driveway.
But I wasn't sure if it was the right house. I thought I recognized another house before the last turn, and I thought I recognized parts of the house, but it didn't look quite the same. Had they added on? Was my memory playing tricks on me? Is that where their small direct-sales cottage had been? I wasn't sure. Yes, those were the kitchen windows, I thought, but were was the small area where I parked my car every day? Go knock!, Justin said, but I couldn't. I couldn't, because what if it was awkward, what if they didn't remember me, what if they had moved, what if... what if it just wasn't the right thing? So once again, I got in the car and we drove away. I do regret that, a little bit.
We checked into our hotel, rested for a while, and the boys and Justin took a swim in the small pool. We wandered out at dinner time and I asked the very kind girl at the front desk for restaurant recommendations. She told us about one in front of the Etruscan archeological dig, and we walked over.
There was nothing special about the dinner, but I have a story. There was a pirate at the restaurant, or so Declan was convinced. Two tables over from us there were two young men, dressed up for a night on the town. Although there isn't much of a night out in Fiesole... perhaps they were heading into Florence after dinner? One of the men looked perfectly normal, but the other was dressed in a get-up that I have only ever seen before in Saturday Night Live skits. He had a black bandana around his head, long sideburns, a necklace, rings on just about every finger, and a shirt unbuttoned to his navel. He was tan, very tan. We all took turns looking over at our pirate, and then when the coast was clear I set my camera to the lowest possible aperture and took a photo with no flash.
After dinner as we approached the table I could not resist stopping. "Excuse me," I said in Italian. Both men jumped to polite attention and said, "Si, prega!" a polite way of saying, "Yes, I beg you to tell me what it is!" "My son thinks that you are a .... pirato," I said, guessing at the word for pirate. The pirates friend said, "Yes, yes, he is a 'pirata', he is!" shaking his head and laughing. The pirate laughed, too, enjoying either the attention or the fact that he had amused Declan, or maybe both.
Other photos from Fiesole:
Enjoying spaghetti:
Enjoying gelato:
The best breakfast of our lives, the morning after the pirate dinner:
At the ruins:
And then we left Fiesole and drove toward Lucca. It felt good to go.
Day Five (Tuesday): Florence
On Tuesday we set out for a little road trip to Florence. I booked a hotel in Fiesole for the first night and another in Lucca for the second night. The drive from Barberino to Florence was only about 45 minutes and my heart was in mouth for most of the trip. Not because of the drive itself, but because of the past.
As we drove to Florence I recalled how I felt when the au pair agency told me that the mother had been in touch with them and requested I be replaced. I had only been there for about six weeks, I think. I met with another family, a young couple with a newborn, where I would live in a loft above the living room, but before I could be replaced I got very, very sick, and the plans to replace me were put on hold until I was better. After that I talked to the mother about her plans and she changed her mind and asked me to stay. I should have left.
I did take a part-time job with a family in Fiesole. Andrea, the boy I lived with, was in school for the majority of the day, and after I spent several months getting to know Florence like the back of my hand, I spent my days at a Fattoria in the hills, with a young couple and their three-year-old and newborn, drinking wine and eating gorgeous meals for lunch. I'd walk the baby around in his stroller and chat with the farm workers, sample the freshly pressed olive oil, soak myself in the sunshine and fresh air, then drive home to the tension and chaos of my Florence family.
Again, when the Fiesole family asked me to move in with them, I should have gone. But I felt so torn. At that point I had been with Andrea for at least five months, and he was such a troubled little boy. He was about seven then, and was angry, ill-mannered, neglected by his socialite parents, and desperately unhappy. And although he seemed to hate me and treated me like dirt, I couldn't leave him. I felt like it would be simply one more abandonment for him, one more change for him to process. I was his sixth au pair.
And I have to admit, it was hard to give up the upcoming month at Forte dei Marmi; a month at the beach in a beautiful pensione with all our meals served, a private beach where my lounge chair, umbrella and towels would be set up for me each day, and No Parents.
So I stayed with Andrea and his family, but it wasn't a good situation, not at all. Several times I talked to my parents about going home, and my mother kept reassuring me that staying in Florence wasn't an endurance test, that I could come home any time, but I couldn't go home. I had told myself I was going to do see it through, and that's what I was going to do.
My boyfriend made plans to come see me after summer school, and we said we'd travel for the month of July and August. But at some point before then, and I have completely blanked the details, the family and I decided that I would not return after August. And that's how it ended. My boyfriend came, I packed up, and we left. And I've never seen or talked to them since. All of this was rolling around in my head as we approached Florence.
The week before we left for Italy I found 16 men in Italy with the same name as the little boy, and I contacted all of them. Only one wrote back, and he said he was not the same Andrea. This, apparently, would not be the trip to lay ghosts to rest. In the end, though, I did find great clarification and closure, and left Florence feeling like I understand so much more than the 21 year old version of myself every could have.
Part of this knowledge came from seeing the city through older eyes, and some of it came from a man named Lapo, a Florentine I met at a party later in our trip. It turned out that Lapo's parents were married in the church down the tiny, steep, winding road that I lived on, he knew exactly where I had lived. He was able to give me great insight into what he called the Firenze Bene - the elite class of Florence, the aristocrats, if you will, of which my host family was a part. Lapo was not surprised when I told him that friends of the family would not acknowledge me if they saw me on the street, or that I was not allowed to eat with the family if the boy was not there, or that I always worked on weekends because the parents were too busy with social obligations to spend time with their son. He nodded along knowingly, if not disapprovingly.
We spoke about how much Florence has changed since he was a teenager walking the streets from Ponte Vecchio to Piazza Signoria to il Duomo - the triangle of greatest activity in the city center. Now, he said, the Florentines had abandoned their city center, left it to the tourists. The life and beauty of Florence is, for the most part, to be seen behind walls and closed doors, in homes and museums.
I could go on and on, but it's so personal to me and so hard to articulate, I will stop navel-gazing and post some photos.
Florence as seen from the Piazzale Michelangelo. It was hotter than hell that day.
The boys were miserable in the heat but I made them pose anyway.
We went in search of Vivoli, Italy's most famous Gelateria, but wouldn't you know it was closed for the holidays? Instead we found a small, out of the way ristorante and had a nice meal with no other tourists in sight.
Me and the boys on Ponte Vecchio. Even now as I look at this photo it's amazing to imagine that I went back with my own children and stood on that bridge and .... well see, I can't even explain.
And what trip to Florence would be complete without a shot of il Duomo:
We spent some time wandering through the San Lorenzo market. I had spent hours upon hours there all those years ago buying gifts for my friends and family; a leather jacket for my brother, stationery for my mother, a wool scarf for myself, t-shirts for everyone, whatever grabbed me. San Lorenzo hasn't changed a bit - the sellers still try to get you to come to their stall by asking where you're from, or what your name is. The Mercato Centrale with its bounty of fresh food stalls is tucked away behind San Lorenzo and we had planned on going in. I was so excited to get in there and shoot the giant wheels of cheese, the fish, the produce, but the market closes early and it was already afternoon when we got there.
After that we hit a carousel in Piazza della Republica - this was definitely not there when I lived there! Justin took photos and I rode with the boys.
I like this shot - it's like one of those hastily shot celebrity photos - and don't I look like a celeb?
Then back south toward the bridge, and we passed the Boar in the Mercato Nuovo, and stopped to rub his nose. I remember rubbing his nose on my first walk into the city; tradition says that if you rub his nose you will someday return to Florence.
At that point Declan was crashing on Justin's shoulders, so we passed through the piazza at the Uffizi, glad to not be standing in lines to get in - the Uffizi is not a place for bored and cranky children.
Back to the car, and then up the hills into Fiesole.
And Andrea? He wrote back the day after we got home. He didn't recognize my name and wrote, "May I ask why you are looking for me?" I told him who I am and that I have always wondered about him and his family, but that it wasn't until now, in these days of Facebook, that I could find him. He hasn't responded yet.
Day Four (Monday): Volterra
Volterra was high on our list of places to visit because of their Etruscan Museum. Justin is very interested in ancient cultures, and Etruscan history is particularly appealing to him. I think it reminds him of ancient Gaelic culture - small, lost forever, that kind of thing. Volterra isn't far from Barberino, but it took over an hour to get there because of the 10,000 hair pin curves, steep climbs, and tiny roadways.
On our way to Volterra we stopped at spot with a gorgeous view of San Gimignano in the distance. At one time S.G. had over 100 towers. The towers were built by wealthy families as a sign of wealth; he who had the highest tower had the most important family. Later on the towers were torn down to build homes, but several remain.
I could have sworn that this was a photo with S.G. in the distance, but now I can't see it. Hmph.
Here we are outside of the torture museum, standing in front of a chair covered in spikes. Nice. When Justin came out of the museum he was shaken, and it takes a lot of shake Justin. He was going to tell me about some of the things he saw, but I told him I didn't want to know.
Gelato!
A stroll up a staircase:
And then a coffee break. Italian coffee... let me tell you, there's just nothing like it. First of all, there is no freaking 20 oz. coffees in Italy. You get a normal, decent sized serving of delicious coffee. It's not bitter. We're used to bitter here because the mass producers buy crap beans and don't know how to roast. I have to admit, I couldn't adhere to the Italian rule that you only drink coffee with milk for breakfast, and it's espresso the rest of the day. I had cafe lattes and cappuccinos at all times of the day and night. OMG, the coffee in Italy...
Hangin' with my men.
Then some strolling and window shopping...
See the sign of the woman on the left? Aidan loved it so much we bought one for one of our bathrooms.
So sad... this was posted on a wall. It basically says that a five month old kitty is lost and that he's not used to being on the streets. They offer a reward.
Volterra is known for its alabaster, and there was plenty of it in the gift shops. Here's Aidan gazing at alabaster hearts. What I like about this photo is that he has the mosquito stick stuck to his shirt. The mosquitoes were outrageous, like from a different world of mutant kamikaze mosquitoes. The boys were particularly eaten up - both of them still have scabs all over their legs.
Then we discovered a park and playground, so we bought a cheap little soccer ball and the kids played for a while. Unfortunately we had dilly dallied for so long during the day that the kids were pretty much fried by 5:00 and we didn't get to go to the Etruscan Museum. Go figure.
Got back yesterday. I'm going to do this slowly, so that I can savor
each and every day all over again. Except the bad stuff. That stuff
I'll skim over.
The flights to Milan and then to Rome were uneventful. As I watched the flight attendants barely do their jobs I was reminded of little tidbits of Italian culture that I had forgotten in the last almost-20 years. For example, when handing a flight attendant my finished dinner tray, she put her hands up as if being mugged, shrugged nonchalantly, and said something like, "How can I take that tray so full with things piled all up on the top? It won't possibly fit in my small little dinner cart compartment!" Um, OK. Let me push this napkin down into this cup for you. So sorry to cause you a dinner tray crisis.
When we landed in Rome we got our rental car and hit the road. Justin drove the first two hours, then we stopped in Orvieto for lunch. While in Orvieto we were witness to something that would be a constant theme for the next 16 days: Declan acting like a barely-fouled Italian soccer player every time we asked him to walk somewhere. Drama! Tears! Hysterics! Rolling on the ground!
Aidan strolling in Orvieto:
I finished off the driving for the next two hours while all three of my men slept peacefully. It was raining, but the sun was shining, and I had the most peacefully happy experience of driving through Tuscany to the sound of windshield wipers and with a sunbeam on my shoulder. We arrived in Barberino Val d'Elsa and ferried our things upstairs to our flat.
The view from the front of our place:
The view from the back:
I think after that we wandered up the road into the town itself, but as it was August 15th and a holiday in Italy, everything was closed. Barberino is a tiny medieval town with a door on the south side and door on the north side. It is basically two parallel streets about an 1/8th of a mile long. Tiny. Outside of the walled section of town there are other shops and homes.
View from the piazza on the south end of town:
Resident cats that we saw just about every day when we walked into town:
Looking toward the north door:
Walking through town:
View from the piazza halfway through town, in front of the church:
We do not usually, as a family, suffer from jet-lag. We suffered big time on this trip. We went to bed at 9:00 or 10:00 the first night but slept until 1:00 the next day. Oops. Went to bed at a normal time the second night, but all woke up at about 2:00 a.m., and we stayed up til about 5:00 a.m. At about 3:00 a.m. we all went to the kitchen for some nutella on toast.
The next few nights weren't great, but eventually we got it together.
More to come.
Day Two (Saturday) was basically a wash because we slept until 1:00. By the time we were up and out the door it must have been 2:30. We wandered into town and on the way were stopped by a Canadian couple asking if we knew where they could find a place for food, as everything was closed. The man started the conversation by saying, "Excuse me, do you speak English?" I love that, being mistaken for a local. I said, "All English, all the time," and we discussed our food options. There really weren't any options, as everything was closed for the holiday weekend, and anything that would've been open was closed for the mid-day break.
I love this about Italy (and other countries), that the whole country just locks up shop and goes home from 12-3 or 1-4 because they need to eat, nap, rest, etc. We should all live like that. Of course, it's no good for us tourists who aren't used to such a schedule and are left peering into dark shops in the hopes that someone might open up and throw out a scrap of prosciutto. Too bad for us.
After the delicious albeit outrageously priced lunch we found the nearby Coop market and loaded up on prosciutto, cheeses, pasta, fruit, juice, bottled water, yogurt, nutella, and bread. At the Coop we learned another important lesson: ask for bags up front because you pay .06 for each one. If you don't ask for them you won't get any and you will have no way to get your stuff from the store to your car. Unless, perhaps, an annoyed cashier takes pity on you and throws three plastic bags your way.
After the coop we drove back to Barberino. Justin dropped us off at the Pineta on the north side of town and went home to unload the groceries. The Pineta is sort of like a field or very rustic piazza in which there was a playground, a bar (not the American sort but the sort where you can buy a coffee, lottery ticket, ice cream, or pastry), and a bunch of retired men playing cards. In addition to the bar and playground there was a restaurant run entirely by Misericordia volunteers, a place outfitted with white plastic chairs and table in which you could order pizzas, pastas, wine, and dessert, for really, really cheap.
Bad photo of the Pineta:
It was at the Pineta one night that we met Carlotta, Duccio, and their son Giovanni. Carlotta and Duccio had lived in Boston (he for five years, she for for one) and he had been an associate professor of genetics at Harvard. But more on them later, when I get to the segment on going to their house for a party.
Day Three (Sunday): San Gimignano
I was a bit afraid to go back to S. Gimignano because when I'd been there near-20 years ago it was overrun by tourists. We thought that perhaps it would be quieter on a Sunday, but I don't think there are any quiet days in S.G. The first thing we noticed was that there was nowhere to park. Nowhere. We drove around for a while and finally parked in a long line of cars on a road leading out of town. This is where we first were witness to Declan's watch-this-tantrum-about-walking-I-might-play-soccer-when-I-grow-up persona. Good think we brought the cheap little umbrella stroller.
S.G. is even more overrun by tourists now than it was 20 years ago, but I also enjoyed it much more now. This is probably because I only had the equivalent of $3.20 to spend when I was there 20 years ago, and now I can afford to do nice things like go into museums and eat lunch. Once in town we had a yummy lunch, then went to the top of the Torre Grasso where were treated to stunning views of the town and surrounded area.
Lunch!
Aidan at lunch, in my hat:
Views from the top of Torre Grasso (does this not remind you of the WTC pre-9/11?):
After the Torre Grasso we decided that gelato was in order - we had, after all, climbed some couple of hundred stops to the top. I don't remember why, but Declan had a huge tantrum, and while I went to get the gelato, Justin snapped this photo:
Things were made better with gelato:
After that, a stroll around the town to do some window shopping.
Toy shop!
Alimentari (food stuffs):
Later that afternoon we drove home - I think, but am not sure, that we ate out at Le Archebugie, a restaurant on the east side of our walled town. Declan ate spaghetti just about every meal.
Next up, Volterra, Florence and Fiesole.
I got my haircut this morning and had to bring the boys with me. They sat and played the entire time, I was so relieved. The woman who cuts my hair told me that a new Lego Discovery Center opened in Schaumburg, so we came home, looked up the address and went. We got there at 10:40 and there was already a 20-minute line outside, but once we got inside it was fabulous.
They've built the city of Chicago to scale with over 10,000,000 bricks. There's also a ride through a medieval castle, a 4-D movie, a factory where the kids can see a brick being made (pretend), a Build & Test area, a cafe (bad, bad food) and a Jungle Expedition - very cool.
Chicago:
Here are the boys showing their muscles before going into the Expedition area. They were told to look for the glowing purple crystal for good luck, but to beware of the spider!
In the Hall of Fame - R2D2, Harry Potter, and another of the HP characters were there, too:
Heading into the castle:
In the mouth of the lion:
And this was both of them on the way home, after four hours of Lego:
Aidan turned six yesterday! There is so much I want to say about my beautiful little man, but for now I'll recap the party.
I really wasn't very well-prepared for Aidan's party, but I seem to work well to deadlines and did most of the work for this yesterday morning. I made the cake, went to Michael's to get a craft project, bought food for the adults, put up the decorations, cleaned up the common areas of the house, etc. We were very worried about the weather - thunderstorms were forecasted for the afternoon, but it turned out to be absolutely stunning.
We opened the gifts from Justin's family and us in the morning. Justin's parents sent some cute shirts and $20 so that Aidan can pick out his own toy. Uncle Richard (Justin's brother) sent some Star Wars toy, and we gave Aidan three Roald Dahl books - Aidan is really into him right now.
The water slide guys came at about noon and set up this thing that took up most of our backyard. It was much bigger than I had anticipated, and even more fun. Aidan and Declan immediately started playing on it.
Guests started to arrive at 2:00. We let the kids go nuts on the slide until almost 4:00, then we all dried off and went inside to do the craft. I bought wood frames at Michael's ($1 each!), six colors of acrylic paint, a package of 25 assorted brushes and some beach-themed stickers. We put a plastic table cloth down on the dining room table and the kids stood and painted for 20-30 minutes. I didn't get photos of that, but it was cute, and their frames are adorable. I have photos of most of the kids on the slide, and will print them and include them in the thank you cards.
After that we had cake (delicious!) and then the kids went nuts on the slide again.
This is Lefteri and Aidan; Lefteri and Aidan were in K together, and his little brother was in preschool with Declan.
This is Anastastia and Kieran, neighors from next door and across the street.
By 5:15 almost everyone was gone, but the neighbors stayed until about 6:00, and then we decided to pool together our dinners and have a big chow-down at our house. Toni is Greek and made this amazing lemon chicken, roast potatoes, and tomato/cucumber salad. Becky made lemon bars and chicken nuggets, and we made brats and burgers. Lots of wine, too.
I can't even begin to describe how tired we all were at the end of the day, but it was all well worth it.
I took the boys to the Brookfield Zoo to meet up with Joanne and Dawn and their kids. The others left before we did - we were there for five hours. The boys did surprisingly well.
and I'm so busy snapping away I don't realize my child is about to become lion food:
So I tell all the kids to jump on the giant turtle and who jumps in but this androgynous kid dressed up like a punk rocker:
Another photo they were oh-so-happy to take!
Gorgeous carousel:
I don't think this guy got the memo:
Him neither:
Nap time!
This tickles me:
I'm too fancy for my feathers:
WIPED OUT:
You guys know that Declan loves to dress up. He had a brand new outfit today, something he's never worn before. He wore it to the barber shop for a haircut, and everyone got quite a kick out of it. It is with great pride and a lot of laughing that I present...
Skivvy Man
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