a saturday afternoon

Winding our way north on the autostrada, we're on our way to explore the hills and valleys between Bolzano and Merano, Itay. This is not far from where we live, but given that we don't own a car and seldom venture outside the city, it feels like another world.

We leave at 12:30 and just 45 minutes later, find ourselves in a small bar in the little town of Appiano for lunch. They have a hearty orzo soup on the stove, perfect with the bread and cold cuts... speck, salami, and prosciutto.



We then head out to explore:

Stunning steeple, you'll see it again later from the Boymont Castle tower.

some other expats exploring the area

a farmer taking in the apple harvest

can you get any more quaint?

For some reason, we enjoy walking through cemeteries. This one is full of German surnames due to the fact that this part of Italy was part of Austria before World War I. In fact, there is a separatist movement here and German is the first language of the region.


We then enjoyed an hour long hike up to one of the many castles.

click to enlarge if you would like to read the text

I love photographs through windows... imagining how long this view has been captured in this way...



From the top of the tower you can see the layout of the castle ruins and the beautiful surrounding country side.





From here, we went to Merano, which was absolutely gorgeous... but I left my camera in the car. I guess you'll just have to go there yourself. ;)

Marchesa means Dutchess

A good day. Kitchen's been cleaned since breakfast. The fruit bowl is full of fresh selections from the market. Even a load of laundry has been hung.

Has been hung... sort of has a nice ring to it.
And bells, now have been rung.
Has been hung... ring... rung. It's amazing that I get anything done.

I realize that I'm gazing out the window into the open space, enclosed by my kitchen window and the walls of the neighboring buildings. An open space that, by definition, goes up to the sky, but also down, to the patio below. Just one floor below.

Oh yes, I realize. Time to get the kids.
Out the door for horse drawn carriages and down the street I stroll.
Faccio due passi as I learned to say one day ago.


Kids, bikes, and two packs on my back. We need to stop by home.
About this home... have I told you?

It's a palazzo. Palazzo Parisi and the Marchesa herself lives there still.
She's old and crippled and has a nasty bite.
Everything is wrong and nothing is right.
I don't like this crabby old woman... but let's not be impolite...

I can't remember the Italian but she complains.
Complains for wrappers left on the floor that blew in from carnival 8 months before.
Wrappers from candy we do not eat, but I pick them up from under her feet.

More yelling as I put away bikes.
What can this be? What have I done?
Ah... the lights. I've turned on two when I should only use one.
I make the mistake to try and point out... and words from me only cause her to shout.

What waste I have made!
She pays the bills!
And what an expense!
There's a light in the room!
You don't need the one in the hall!
And as she screams on... I decide to stop listening.



My home brings me joy and I'm glad when I'm there
High ceilings and large windows that let in fresh air
Climb up marble stairs with an old iron railing
Just ignore the old hag that never stops wailing

italian lessons... day 1

I've started my Italian language class. Yep, after two years in Italy, I've grown tired of sounding like a cave woman. My first class was pretty enlightening, exactly the stuff that Strange Pilgram is all about, so I'll share. Maybe weekly, we'll see...

What did I learn in my first day of Italian?

A pencil sharpener is called temperamattita. This word gave me a lot of confusion when the punks and I were shopping for school supplies. Mattia means pencil, and tempera reminded me of Temper Paints, so I thought it was some kind of painting pencil. Glad we finally cleared that up!

Also, principianti means beginners. I'd always understood it to be "participants"... which actually works most of the time. Ahh, the subtle details are beginning to surface.

And then this phrase really threw me for a loop:
Lui e' medico, pediatra in un grande ospedale di Milano; si chima Paolo, ha 45 anni, un po' di pancia (poca), e' un po' pelato (troppo), e' sportivo, simpatico e allegro.

Did you get all that? Well, Paolo sounds like a pretty good catch. He's a doctor, a pediatrician at a big hospital in Milano. 45 years old. Pancia means tummy, so he has just a little tummy. He's also athletic, nice, and happy...

But what about pelato? What the heck does that mean? I'm thinking: Pelle is skin and pelo is an animal's fur coat ...wait, are they saying he's furry? Too much furry?

How much is too much? Are we talking Mike Rowe furry or Teen Wolf furry?

good furry

bad furry

Well, it turns out that, on the contrary, pelato means bald.