Capraia

We’re a few days removed from my last big adventure to Capraia, but it was so amazing, I don’t think I’ll have any trouble recounting the trip here…

This story picks up right where my last blog left off. I got my hair cut Friday afternoon, and went to a late dinner with friends. After a quick conversation with Josh when I got home, it was 2am before I made it to bed. Only a problem when the alarm clock is set for 6am the next morning. An auspicious start to the vacation, but well worth it in the long run.

Only 4 hours after going to bed, my cell phone alarm clock (which I’ve already come to hate) sounded and I jumped out of bed. I had a lot to do – shower, pack, get dressed, drive to Rachel’s – in a short amount of time. As an aside, packing while half asleep with only 10 minutes to spare is always a poor choice. I forgot a lot of essentials such as sun screen, deodorant and pajamas. It was a short weekend, and I was able to make due, but it certainly would have been nice to have something to sleep in.

Rachel, Joanna and I made it to the ferry that would carry us to paradise by 8am. We bought our tickets “andato e return, per favore,” parked the car (we probably should have walked) and climbed aboard. After a 2 hour ride west, away from Livorno, Capraia loomed. As we pulled up to port, this outstanding view greeted us.

Once we were off the boat, we didn’t have to walk very far to find our apartment. A co-worker recommended Sol Mar to us, and we were thrilled with the recommendation as soon as we saw the accommodations. Our home away from home for the weekend had 3 floors – an entry way on the first floor, a bedroom, the bathroom and the living/dining space on the second floor and another bedroom in the loft on the third floor. From the balcony on the second floor, we had a great view of the port and the town just up the hill. See?

After a quick lunch at port, we wandered in to town. Just in time to find everything closing down for the infamous Italian 3 hour siesta. Since nothing was open after 1300, we wandered to a handful of old buildings – churches, castles and a monastery - before finding our way down to the water. The island is very rocky and all sheer cliffs down to the water, so we felt proud for finding a place where we could actually dip our toes in the water.

That evening, after a power nap (we were all exhausted from the early morning wake up, the walking and the sun) we wandered back in to town for dinner. My favorite moment from the whole weekend was wandering back to port after dinner, full of great Italian food, under the clear night sky full of stars with the cool ocean breeze on our sun kissed skin. Towns can be so different at night, after the tourists go home, and Capraia, already a quiet place to begin with, seemed to be sleeping as we walked back to the apartment.

The next morning, we all slept in, a welcome relief and as it should be when you’re on vacation. We left the apartment in time for lunch before we started our short hike. There are amazing trails all across the island – enough to keep an avid hiker busy for weeks. In the 2 hours that we had to explore before our boat ride around the island, we hardly scratched the surface.

We were lucky to get the appointment for the taxi boat ride around Capraia. It normally takes 7 people for the driver to take a boat out, but they made an exception for our group of 6 – Joanna, Rachel and myself, plus one guy from Florence that spoke English and a couple that didn’t look up from each other long enough for me to learn anything about them… We set off in the little plastic boat and made a full loop around the island. With our periodic stops at the most amazing grottos (caves) it took us a little over 2 hours to make the full circle. From the boat, we saw amazing views of the island. It was so uninhabited and untouched, Joanna and I joked that we expected a terodactyl to come swooping over a peak any second.

Monday morning, we set our alarm to wake up in time to play in the water for a few minutes. Still a little wary of the ocean, I sat on the rocks with a book and watched Joanna and Rachel swim. It was hotter on Monday than it had been the days before, so I went in early to shower off the sweat and sunscreen. When we were all packed up and ready to leave, we went to find the manager to pay. To our surprise, his credit card machine was not working. (In hindsight, it makes perfect sense that a credit card machine on an island in the middle of nowhere might prove a bit temperamental.) We were able to scrounge up enough cash to pay the bill. Rachel had a lot of American money and Joanna and I kept handing him euro change until he said, “Enough! No more money!”

Sad to be leaving, we boarded the boat and took off for Livorno and back to real life. Tomorrow, I set out for another mini-adventure full of planes, trains and automobiles as I travel from Pisa to London to Brighton to London again and then back to Pisa all in less than 48-hours.

Baby's First (Italian) Haircut

Friday afternoon, I left work to get my first real Italian haircut. I showed up at the salon with a picture of the style I liked, ready to brave the language barrier. I showed up on time for the appointment, only to find out I was in the wrong place. After a quick call to Timoty at the other salon by the same name around the corner, I was on my way. He rushed down to where I was to escort me to the correct location.

Once there, I was offered acqua frizzante (I still think it tastes like alka seltzer) and led to the hair washing station where woman #1 washed my hair. From there, I was escorted to the stylist. Timoty, serving as my translator, asked how much I wanted off. Crap. The one thing I didn’t prepare was the metrics conversion. 2 inches? I showed them both with my fingers what 2 inches looked like. They nodded, seeming on board with the plan. I continued, ready to tell them how I wanted it styled, and was interrupted with, “No, no, no… You tell us the length, bella. The stylist chooses the style. Makes sense, no?” I left my photo hidden in my purse so as to avoid further embarrassment and crossed my fingers that the Italian stylist would deliver.

After an hour and a half of the stylist working his magic, I was taken back to the hair washing station where woman #2 shampooed and conditioned my hair for the second time. From there, woman #2 walked me to a styling area and dried my hair just enough to get the moisture out. She ushered me back to the stylist for a few final touches.

I thought I was a finished product at that point, and ready to go home. So naturally, I was surprised when woman #3 took my hand and steered me away from the cash register and back toward a chair. She dried my hair even more and ran one of those amazing salon quality straighteners through one final time. The haircut is amazing (see evidence below) and not just because it was in such bad shape before. On my walk home, I almost fell off the curb twice and walked in front of at least 3 vespas because I was so distracted by my new style in the shop windows. Sad, but true. At least I’m not embarrassed to admit it…

Like any girl with a new hair cut will tell you, I just had to go out afterwards. A few friends humored me, and we made late reservations for Chez Lugo, a trendy spot in Livorno. It came highly recommended, and while it wasn’t bad by any stretch of the imagination, it wasn’t anything special and felt slightly Americanized. Nevertheless, it was an opportunity to flip my hair around in front of an audience. At the end of dinner, Drew introduced us to Ponce, a drink created in Livorno. It’s a pretty disgusting mix of espresso, some type of very strong alcohol and lots and lots of sugar. Impressed by our knowledge of the elusive Livornese drink, the waiter brought us a free round of grappa. Rick Steve labeled grappa as Italy’s firewater, and I must agree. (Read the full write up here: http://www.ricksteves.com/plan/destinations/italy/grappa.htm) I breathed in a little sniff to gauge what I was getting myself in to, and my nose burned. A tiny sip, taken only to be polite, burned the whole way down and for minutes afterwards.

So, lessons learned on Friday:
1. In Italy, the hair stylist chooses the style. Go figure.
2. Watch where you’re walking , no matter how enticing your reflection might be.
3. Grappa, no matter what the Italians might tell you, is not your friend.

Volterra

I woke up this morning, expecting to drive to Ikea in Florence with Rachel. Everyone was a little behind schedule though, so plans changed… Sitting at home, alone, I debated wasting the day in my house, maybe venturing out to the Centro di Borghi again to wander around the Iper-Coop. Instead, I broke out my Rick Steve’s Guide to Italy from way back in 2005 and started plotting.

Options included San Gimiginano, Lucca and Volterra. Rick seems to think San Gimiginano is a tourist trap – I’ve only been there once for less than an hour, but I disagree – and Lucca was a bit further than I was looking to drive this morning. So, I loaded in to the trusty Mercedes Station Wagon rental and took off for Volterra.

First, I stopped for gas at the station in my neighborhood. I find that any time I’m taking off driving to an unknown destination in a foreign country, it’s best to do so with a full tank of gas. It just starts things off with karma on your side. Last week, I made the effort to commit the word for ‘full’ to memory. During the day, gas stations are full service. The attendants always ask what type and how much gasoline you want. I have diesel down (the rental is diesel, I’ll have to figure out how to ask for regular gasoline when I get my VW) and thought I remembered the word for full. I spit out a few words that I thought sounded right. Pido? Piedo? Pino? At which point, the attendant looked at me and said, “Full?” Sigh. Yes. Full, please.

I’ve since looked up the word for full again, and it is “Pieno.” I was close.

The 45-minute drive to Volterra alone was worth the trip. I knew the area in and around Ponsacco was scenic, but I had no idea. Just a ten minute drive through my backyard, and I found myself weaving around typical, narrow, Italian streets. Fifteen minutes found me in the Italian country side. I wouldn’t say I was in the mountains exactly. Perhaps really big, rolling hills. Regardless, it was beautiful. I rolled my window down and actually said out loud to the car, “This is amazing.” And then, “I’m talking to myself, but it’s OK because I live in Italy!”

In order to get there, I set a restaurant in Rick Steve’s guide as my destination. Seemed like a good idea at the time, until I made a left turn and unexpectedly found myself driving down a street like this…

Only, imagine a sea of 100+ tourists walking down the same street, not concerned at all that a giant, Mercedes station wagon was heading right towards them. I made it about 3 streets in – once you’re in, you have to drive through the whole town to get out – and parked my car. I wasn’t positive it was a legal parking space, but there were other cars there and I didn’t see any signs indicating otherwise. I wandered in to the main square and picked up a map of the city and some postcards and asked the shop clerk what road I was on. I had visions of forgetting where I parked my car. After that, I wandered a bit further and grabbed a sandwich at a little café. I ate outside under the looming cathedral while I studied my map and made my plans for the afternoon.

It was about that time I got nervous about the car. I tried to convince myself it would be fine, but couldn’t shake the vision of me walking back to my make shift parking space only to find the car towed. I then imagined the phone call to one of my co-workers, explaining why I needed them to drive all the way to Volterra to rescue me. Needless to say, I practically ran back to the car and jumped in for round 2 of driving on Italian medieval roads never intended for cars in the first place.

At the first intersection I came to, I put on my right turn signal and glared impatiently at the two men standing in the middle of the road. Confused as to why they weren’t moving, I just eased toward them until they moved. It wasn’t until I was driving away and caught a glimpse of them in my rear view mirror, laughing and shaking their heads, that I realized I was driving the wrong way down a one way road. Luck was on my side and the road was empty (apparently, no one else is dumb enough to drive their car inside Volterra’s walls) and I was able to turn around and drive out in the right direction. I passed the two men again, and exchanged a smile with them. No one can ever accuse me of not having a sense of humor about these things…

I ended up in a real parking lot just outside of the walls near the Teatro Romano. This small site officially holds the title of first Italian ruins I’ve seen during my time here. I’m sure there are lots more to come, but it was exciting nevertheless.

After the ruins, I walked back in to town. I picked up a few souvenirs including two alabaster wine stoppers. Volterra is known for their alabaster and I needed wine stoppers since lately, I have been breaking the cork on any wine bottle I try to open. I also got the obligatory magnet. I’m going to have a full refrigerator by the time I leave!

By 5pm (or, 1700 for all you military minded people out there) I had already seen the whole town and decided to start the trip back. I was exhausted by the time I made it back to Ponsacco and ended up taking a nap that ruined my evening plans. I stayed home and watched Marley & Me. A good movie, but should be avoided at all costs if you are a) a dog lover or b) even slightly emotional. If you fit either of those categories and still feel the need to rent it, skip the last 20 minutes all together. Trust me. It’s better that way.

Forte

Although I am a little tipsy from the limoncello my landlady so kindly offered up, I can already tell this is going to be wonderful relationship. Between us, we both have about four words in common. She knows, “chocolate” (it helps that the pronunciation is almost the same in both Italian and English) and I know “va benne,” “grazie” and “non capisco.” But, I don't need words to know I like her.

Thinking I would just drop off the money – she requested I pay in cash, which is fine by me – I rang her bell this afternoon. She invited me up and told me to sit (well, she pulled out a chair and motioned to it, at least) while she wandered off for her receipt book. If by receipt book, you mean small, spiral bound notepad in which she hand writes money in and out. When she got back, she pulled the lid off a ceramic jar and gestured for me to eat some of the chocolate within. I obliged. We laughed a little bit while she counted and then recounted and then counted again the money in my Community Bank envelope. She finally came up with the correct total and wrote out my receipt.

At that point, things started to get exciting. She insisted I eat more chocolate and pulled out her bottle of limoncello from the liquor cabinet. I showed her with my fingers, in that universal symbol everyone is supposed to know, I only wanted a little bit. Un poquito, por favor. Never mind that that’s Spanish, she was supposed to understand. Instead, I got a full glass of the stuff. I took a few sips and shivered a little bit as it burned going down. She kept asking, “Forte?” which I can only imagine means strong. I kept saying si, si, si…

After sitting and staring at each other for a while, and cracking ourselves up any time we tried to communicate, I got up and gave her a quick hug, complete with European cheek kisses, and headed back downstairs. I left my limoncello unfinished. I hope that isn’t some grave offense in Italy. I really want her to like me and continue to let me practice my Italian on her. It’s just, if I had partaken in any more of the “forte” alcohol on my empty stomach, I would have ended up crashing on her couch.

Stick shift, kiss it

I am throwing in the towel on learning how to drive a standard. It’s just not for me. I tried twice, and just today, as I stalled trying to move from a stop sign on a hill, came to the firm conclusion that it isn’t worth it. Not that bad, you say? It’s all a part of the learning process, you say? Wait. It gets better.

As I tried to talk myself through the process – push in the clutch, let off the brake, no wait, let off the clutch, give it gas, oh, stalled again, restart the engine, crap!, push in the clutch before restarting the engine to avoid death-warmed-over screeching noise, ease off the clutch again, give it gas, should be moving now, stalled again??? – a giant 18-wheeler truck pulled up behind me. Impatient, he first honked his horn, as if that would magically reveal to me the secrets of moving a standard up hill. The horn not working, he then attempted to pass me, but graciously decided to back up when he came within inches of hitting Rachel’s car. In case that wasn’t enough for one afternoon, the lovely truck driver put his 18-wheeler in park, hopped out of his truck and proceeded to yell at me. In Italian.

Completely frazzled at that point, I told Rachel to take over. She hopped out of the car and ran quickly to the driver’s side door. Too mortified to even show my face, I just slid over the cursed stick shift and hung my head, back in the passenger seat, where I belonged, and where I very well intend to stay until I find myself an automatic. I want my Honda back.

Like a true European

As much as I love to write, I can already tell that I’m going to have a hard time keeping up with this blog. Every day brings a new adventure, and it’s all I can do to remember what stories I need to tell by the time I sit down at my computer. I’m going to do the best I can to recap the last week, and maybe even start taking notes as I roam across Italy so as not to forget anything important!

Since the beginning is usually a logical place to start, I’ll jump in at last Friday, April 10, my birthday! Rachel and I took a trip to Livorno with our Benvenudi class. As is typical with these trips, we toured the Emergency Room (“just in case”), the mall and several markets. I had my first Italian gelato and was nothing less than impressed. Always up for an adventure, I ordered the ‘zuppa inglese’ flavor. Turns out, that translates to English soup. It was a yummy mixture of cherries, cake, vanilla and chocolate pieces – not sure how that translates to English soup, but I’ll take it! I’ve since tried out a few other flavors and fruti del bosco is my favorite.

Friday night, we met up with Jessica and John, friends from Benvenudi. Jessica brought her husband and his friend along – both Italian carabinieris. The boys took us to the only pizza place they’ll eat at in Livorno where we experienced our first 3-hour meal. I had heard the Italians were notorious for lingering over dinner, but I didn’t believe it until I experienced it first hand. We arrived a little after 8pm and didn’t leave until 11pm. Funny thing was, all we had was pizza, dessert (tiramisu, mmm) and coffee. The company was great and the food was even better… I’ll get used to this life style, for sure!

Despite our late dinner the night before, Rachel and I woke up early Saturday morning to head to Camp Darby, where we met the tour bus for our trip to the Tuscan wine resort. We met our tour guide, Tony, who I swear was straight out of The Sopranos and took off for the hour and half bus ride to Borgo Tollena (http://www.borgotollena.com/). As we pulled in to the vineyard, I knew we were in for the most amazing afternoon. The sun was warm, the sky was bright blue and the Italian country side, complete with the rolling hills and olive trees you’d expect to see only in the movies was in a word, breath-taking.

We spent hours eating and drinking before boarding the bus for San Gimignano to shop at Tollena’s retail shop in town. I need to get back to this place and explore more on my own. The tour group spent less than an hour there, but I could tell it was my kind of place – narrow, winding roads open only to pedestrians, quaint shops and restaurants, friendly people, beautiful mountains all around, centuries of history behind every door and all only an hour or so away from my new home in Ponsacco. Yep. I’ll definitely be back soon.

As if wine tasting and a quick trip to San Gimignano wasn’t enough fun for one day, Rachel and I met Maria and Frank, a co-worker and her boyfriend, in Livorno later Saturday evening for, get this, sushi! I’m not going to lie, I was a bit skeptical of sushi in Italy, but the restaurant and the food were both great. I was completely exhausted after dinner, so when a hunt for birthday gelato (I declared the whole weekend my birthday weekend) failed, we went home to sleep. I didn’t get out of bed until 11:00am the next day!

On Tuesday, I went house hunting again with Riccardo. Again, he only had two places to show me, this time in Tirrenia. Both places were in the same building and under going renovations until the end of May. (When the Italians tell you the end of May, what they really mean to say, is sometime by the Fall.) Neither place was great enough to warrant waiting who-knows-how-long. A little disappointed, I asked to see the house in Ponsacco again. I saw this place the first time we went looking, but worried it was too far from base (about a 30 minute drive) and not near any real town. After the second walk through, I loved the place even more, and decided to ask Riccardo to take me through the city center. As it turns out, about 1 mile away from the house, is a cute square with bars, restaurants, shops and even a market that runs every Wednesday. The commute will still be a pain, but everything else was too perfect to pass up. I signed the contract on Thursday.

My land lady lives above me, and is the cutest little old lady, ever. She reminds me a bit of Carmen Martin, my host mother in Nerja, only calmer. She told me via Riccardo (my Italian definitely isn’t good enough to communicate without a translator yet) that if I ever want to practice my Italian, just ring the bell and come up to chat. Before me, there was an Air Force family living in the place for 6 years. She says they moved to New Orleans, but that she still keeps in touch with them. The home has 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a kitchen, living room, entry-way and office… Way more space than I need, which means I’ll need a lot of visitors to keep it full! I’m thinking about turning the office in to a make-shift walk in closet, but I’m not completely decided just yet. I’ll keep you posted as plans develop, and if I ever find my battery charger, I might even post photos!

My work week was shortened once again by more Benvenudi trips, this time to Pisa on Thursday and Florence on Friday. The weather was rainy and cold for our trip to Pisa, but I threw on my rain coat and made the most of it. It was a bit surreal to see the leaning tower in person. Again, we checked out the emergency room (again, “just in case”), the local mall and several markets. Friday was set to be the big trip to Florence, and I admittedly had very high expectations. Unfortunately, there is only so much a large group can see with only 4 hours in Florence. So, that trip didn’t quite live up to my expectations. We did get to ride the train over and took a brief walking tour with the guide pointing out things “we really should see one day” along the way. I’m all set to go back on my own –good thing I live less than an hour away!

Yesterday, after a full day in Florence, I grabbed a bar stool at the Community Club on base for a few drinks with my co-workers. While there, I met a few new faces and made a couple more friends. Since we didn’t have dinner plans, Rachel and I jumped at Maria’s invitation to get Indian food in Pisa. Since sushi proved to be such a success, I wasn’t worried at all about trying out Indian. Sure enough, it was awesome! The food was great but the company was even better. I’m constantly amazed at how welcoming everyone is here and how easy it is to make friends at Camp Darby. It’s a relief really, and I can already tell it’s going to make my adjustment to this new life so much easier.

Despite the fact that dinner wasn’t Italian, we still lingered for almost 3 hours. At least this time we had a few course. I ordered a chai, which kept me awake and alert for a while, but soon enough I started to get sleepy. When John and I started dozing off at the dinner table, we decided to get up for some fresh air. The rest of the party followed, and we headed back towards the car. On our after dinner stroll, we wandered past the leaning tower again, and John remarked, “We’re walking past the leaning tower of Pisa at midnight. We really are living in Italy, huh?” It was most certainly a magical moment that even your most seasoned tourist will never experience. The square was quiet and calm, and the tower was just barely lit up. I couldn’t decide if I felt like a true European or like I was on a movie set.

In need of some rest, I slept in again this morning until 10am. After wandering around the apartment in my PJs for a while, I got dressed and joined Rachel at the nearby café for what was the best cappuccino I’ve had yet. We picked up John after our coffee break and drove to a home store called Casarama – think Hobby Lobby meets Home Depot. Despite going armed with a page long list each, neither John nor Rachel made a single purchase. Since the weather was pretty rainy and overcast, we hunkered down at John’s house for hours and just lazed around. We ventured out only long enough to get a quick lunch between the rain drops. Later, we left John’s for Rachel’s apartment where we (actually, all I helped with was clean-up) made a spaghetti dinner in preparation for their half marathon tomorrow morning.

Depending on the weather – I’ve seen reports calling for a 90% chance of rain – I’m going to set off exploring on my own in Livorno tomorrow. John and Rachel are going to Florence to run a half-marathon, and while I toyed with the idea of going along to cheer them on, I just couldn’t stomach the 5am wake up call. I’m sure I will find plenty to keep me occupied and still get to sleep in a little bit. There is a great fresh market in Livorno that we discovered with Benvenudi. I’m just hoping its open on Sunday’s and I can find it…

From one Thursday to the next

Today officially marks my one-week point in Italy, and I still forget occasionally that I’m living in Europe. Let me explain… since arriving, I’ve spent most of my time at Camp Darby, where we speak English, use dollars, have Diet Dr. Pepper in the commissary and drive big pick-up trucks around base. Admittedly, I have had some “Italian” experiences, which I’ll detail below, but for the most part, I’m still in America, only with better weather and views.

All that is set to change this weekend, though! My friend and co-worker, Rachel, invited me to live with her in Livorno until I find a place of my own. I was set to check out of one on-base hotel (Casa Toscana) and in to another (Sea Pines Lodge) this weekend, so the timing was right as I was facing packing anyways. While I like Camp Darby and all the comforts of home it provides, I am so ready to BE in Italy. We have exciting plans lined up this weekend, thanks to Rachel, and I’ll even have a few chances to celebrate my 27th birthday.

On the schedule this weekend: drinks, more Italian food (finally!), wine tasting at an 11th century castle, sushi and Easter in Italy.

This week, I’ve stayed busy with settling in, which normally finds me running from one end of the base to the other and back again. I’ve managed to accomplish a few important things, including:

- Applying for my soggiorno, codice fiscal and ID card
- Taking and acing (!!) my driver’s license test
- House hunting – I think I’ve found THE place, so there should be some good stories to follow, I just want to do a little more comparison shopping next week before committing…
- Learning about each of the areas I’ll serve and my volunteers
- Setting up my new webcam (thanks, Dad!) and learning the wonderful world of Skype

I started my 2-week benvenudi class this week as well. We had a full day of briefings on Tuesday, and I comprehended about 25% of the information. I’m still having a hard time remembering military acronyms, ranks, titles, uniforms, paperwork, rules, etc. It all leaves me with a splitting headache at the end of every day. There are a handful of others, including Rachel, in the class, and it has been nice meeting other ‘new kids on the block.’ Camp Darby is such a small place, I run in to my classmates everywhere – outside of the commissary at lunch, in the mailroom when wrestling with my box’s combination, at the coffee bar picking up our morning cappuccinos…

I was supposed to attend language classes in conjunction with benvenudi, but I’ve had too many other work commitments and appointments. However, there are Italian classes on base every Monday during lunch, and I plan to start frequenting those. I need to learn some basic Italian fast! And, I’d still really like to be quasi-fluent by the time I leave. It seems like such a waste to be here for such a long time and not learn.

My benvenudi class is taking an early morning trip to Livorno tomorrow, and it’s getting late. So for now, I’m off to bed – my last night in the hotel!

~ Ciao