1 January 2010

There is something exhilarating about the first day of a new year, an opportunity to begin anew, fresh and clean. I began my day and year with a 45 minute walk in the woods, concentrating on the smells and visual delights along the way, being mindful of the present. There is a buddhist chant I said every morning for 5 years as I walked to the bus-stop when I lived and worked in Seattle: I breathe in, I am aware of my heart. I breathe out, I smile to my heart. I vow to eat, work and play in ways that will be beneficial to my health and well-being.

I found it interesting that this thought returned to me this morning. I prefer the positive approach for change over the negative list of I won't do this or that in the coming year. If I can truly eat, work and play in ways that are beneficial to my health and well-being, I think that just about sums it up.

My sister wrote on her blog this morning that January is named after the Roman God Janus who has 2 faces. One looking ahead, and the other looking back. A perfect symbol for January as we reflect on the past year and look forward to the new. The past six months have been an intense reflection period for me and I am now choosing to look forward, hopefully with clarity and forever being mindful of today.

A very Happy New Year to each and every one of you!

A new do for the holidays

 

I went to the hair dresser yesterday for some help in letting my hair grow out and also asked for highlights. I was quite taken back when I got home and realized I had blonde hair. She also straightened it for me and I looked like a completely different person. Of course when I got up this morning, the waves had returned. It actually looks better than this picture, but its really hard to take a picture of yourself.

Just wanted to share my new do!

Bbrrrrrrr

I awoke this morning to naked trees covered with snow and even though there was still high grass peeping through, snow was covering most of the ground. It wasn't beautiful but still, it was quiet and there was a rush of excitement. It wasn't cold enough to freeze the lake, although I understand Lake Seewoog is a popular place for ice-skating among the Germans in the village. I stepped out on the balcony just as the church bells were ringing, resonating and echoing. Sounds are always magnified when snow is falling.

I thought of the book "Snow Falling on Cedars" and wanted to re-read it. I need a book with history, intrigue and romance. But, I didn't bring too many books with me and I have only one that I haven't read, recently picked up at the only used book store on base. It seems books are a paucity here, at least ones written in English, so I started "The Memory Keeper's Daughter."

I was recently obsessed with the Amanda Knox trial and then the last 2 weeks have been consumed with the Tiger Woods scandal. I'm glad to report that today I discovered I am done with both of them. None of the stories concerning either of them on MSN, CNN or CBS news intrigued me enough to "click" and continue. I am a serial learner, delve into a story, an author, an idea and it overtakes me completely and just as surely as I was hooked, I am saturated. Don't talk to me about Tiger.

So, it's been a quiet day and a wonderful day really. I did venture out to do laundry and was quite pleased with how the little cooper handles in the snow. I have lentil soup on the stove, a bottle of wine, coffee for the morning and still have quite a lot of pages to read in the Memory book.

Temperatures are just below freezing and I'm wondering how the roads will be in the morning at o dark thirty. I don't think anything can be as scary as driving in the ice in Oklahoma so I think I'll be fine.

Hope everyone is keeping warm.

Please, tell me. What would you have done?

I understand I am violating a "promise" to give you details of Day 3,4 of cooking class, but frankly, I am tired of that posting. I am taking a break. I want to talk about this weekend, the Christmas Market at Wiesbaden and events that identified it for me. And please, comment. I would love your impression and "feedback."

Tuesday past, I made the comment to a co-worker that I might drive to Wiesbaden for the Christmas Market, an hour and a half away, only because the Christmas Markets in Germany are supposedly phenomenal and I had not yet experienced one. OH! she responded enthusiastically and said she would like to go with me. Fine. We talked about logistics, time, meeting place, etc. and the plan was put to motion.

My friend lives in Kaiserslautern, an easy drive on the autobahn, but not so easy once you take the exit to her apartment. It is a 20 minute drive through the city on one-way streets, congested and confusing even with a GPS, and I prefer not to add additional time to a day trip, so we have agreed (on more than one occasion) that she meet me at a Parkplatz just off A-6. I also prefer to start early and return home by 6-7pm. That gives me time to be home, have a cocktail and dinner, and then off to bed I go. It's not that I wouldn't like to stay out late, but the laws in Germany are VERY strict and I don't dare have even one beer or glass of wine if I am driving. It is automatic return to the states if you are an American, and I don't believe it is worth the risk.

Agreed upon. I would leave the apartment at 10am and meet her at the Parkplatz at 10:30 and drive to Wiesbaden. We would be there no later than 12:00, walk the market, have lunch, shop, enjoy. Plan on leaving around 5:30 or so.

Our friend Tom heard of our plans and indicated that he might like to go as well. Fine. Great actually, because he is familiar with Wiesbaden and can show us around a bit. But, he is not sure that he will be returning to K-town that night because he will be close to Frankfurt, parents and girlfriend. Maybe he will drive his own car, meet us there, and go on his own. What are the plans exactly? Parkplatz 10:30.

From the time it is mentioned that Tom may join us, I notice that Cindy is fixating on riding with Tom..."oh, maybe I just ride with Tom...oh but he may not be coming back and then I'd be stuck at the Parkplatz" this continued Wed., Thurs, Fri., with Tom consistently saying he wasn't sure of his "return" date.

Saturday morning I call Cindy at 9am, confirming our plan. She has decided to go over to Tom's to "Chant" from 10-10:30 and could we meet at 10:45 instead? OK. I'l leave the apt. at 10:15.

I get a call from Cindy at 10, she's at Tom's preparing to chant, but he really wants to go with us but he won't be ready to go until about 12. Is that OK? You know, it's really not OK with me. I'm ready to go and if Tom is going to drive his own car ANYWAY, let him find us there. OK says Cindy. But, can we change the time to 11?

I'm walking out the door at 10:30 when the phone rings. "Jennifer, it's Tom. Listen, there has been a change in plans. Come here to my apartment (gives his address) and we'll all leave from here. I have to take a quick shower, but it will just take a few minutes." OK! So, I have to drive into the city of K-town but, if Tom has now decided we are all going together and I don't have to drive, I can make this detour.

I arrive at Toms at 11:20 and he answers the door in his pajama's, not showered and not shaved and shuffles me off to his kitchen and last night's party. Have a seat, take off your coat, the tea is almost ready. Relax, chill. We're almost done with our chanting. "Tom. You decided to return home tonight?" "No. That hasn't been determined yet. Cindy will ride with you, I'll follow and then I'll show you around Wiesbaden."

Cindy is sitting in the room, at the alter, dazed and unaware (not uncommon) along with another woman. She asks "whats going on" but never comes into the hallway herself.

And now. I ask you. What would you have done, at this moment? I know what I did but I want to know what YOUR take on the situation is and then I can best evaluate my own behavior. Please, indulge me. Comment!

Day #2

After a shower, breakfast buffet and time to spare, I went outside to see what I had missed and imagined in my body and mind drenched state the night before. It is truly beautiful here. I can't see Lake Garda (the largest lake in all of Italy, 30 miles long) but I see the cliffs surrounding her. It is no longer raining, but there is the smell that follows a heavy rain and the air is not clean and crisp and the clouds linger.

Off to cooking class. I forgot my notebook (recipe book) and apron and have to return to my room. TARDY!!! Carol is the translator and is married to Larry Pisoni, the mastermind behind the "Cooking School" and producer of Gourmet-Italia Pasta which is sold in the Commissary. Carol is tall and trim, somewhat stern, an American who married this crazy Italian 50 years ago and gives the appearance and air of one who is from old money and has received a "proper education." She sits on a high stool, wears reading glasses, holds a book and pencil,and is donning pearls and spiked knee-high boots.

I wish my suitcase really had been high-jacked. A perfect excuse for not looking like Donna Reed or Mrs Cleaver.

We learned how to make Pasta but I will never make pasta, not when it is so readily available in any store in the world. Carol even said that no-one makes pasta anymore, that this was something done when there were "house-wives" who had the entire day and nothing more to do. But, pasta we made and pasta we ate. Also, we learned secrets of sauce's and spices and the history of the Mediteranian cusine.

Olive oil. No butter. Rosemary and Sage in bouquets with occasionally Bay Laurel and basil. Garlic, onions. Delicate flavors with robust outcome...

After lunch, a 3 course meal that takes at least 2 hours, we all went to tour the Pisoni Winery. These are distant relatives of Larry's but the winery has remained in the "family" for hundred's of years and now is run by brother's and cousins. All of the families live in this incredible compound of grape vineyards, playground equipment, showrooms, old Italian Villa's divided and remodeled to accommodate the lifestyle of the young families who live and work there.

The old tasting room is unchanged, and there we tasted the 2009 European Award Winner of Sect. They are not allowed to call it Champagne (exclusive to France) and an awesome chocolate liquor that was served in tiny edible ice cream cups. I brought 2 bottles of Sect and one of the liqour's home and will try really hard to keep it until you visit.

A woman in our group, Jo Anne, wanted to buy a copper pot. This woman deserves a Blog of her own (this will or will not happen, depending on whether or not I can be assured she will never discover the blog:-) Larry made a phone call and then took us to a small family operation that makes their own copper goods in an extension of their home. I didn't buy anything because I never liked cooking with copper, but the group made this family who makes cooper pots DAY. So many sales in such a short period of time! Smiles all around.

Another stop at yet another family workshop, this one being a wood carver. Again, I didn't buy anything although I wanted to support this artisan, nothing cried out to me.

Ah, an unexpected turn down an old Medieval Road. This once had been a viable village of trade but it is no longer because of the narrow and steep roads. It seems today's automobiles don't quite have the "horse-power" of yesterdays "horses" or feet. Unfortunately, it was too dark for really good photographs, but I stood aghast and amazed at the close resemblance of the street to my favorite oil painting that I carry with me. I very well could have been looking at the very spot in which this painting was painted.

Back to Piccoli Mondo and a 4 course meal. I should have brought the menu's with me but alas...I did not.

I vowed to be on time to class and have my notebook and apron with me for tomorrows cooking class. Goodnight.

Thanksgiving in Trobole, Italy 2009

Ah! To be Thankful! My friend Zenobia and I were picked up at our respective apartments at 5 a.m. Thanksgiving morning and driven to Frankfurt Hahn airport to begin our journey to Trobole, Italy for our Gourmet-Italia cooking school. By air, it was a short trip of 65 minutes. To continue on to Trobole by bus, train, train, train, bus, it was a much longer journey but filled with memories, fear, laughter, joy, hiliarity, and finally, exhaustion.

 

 

In pouring down rain, we caught the bus to the train station in Bergamo, Italy (the first picture) and we were both a little taken back at the absolute filth we were exposed to at the Bergamo Train Station. Z kept saying "I miss Germany, you know, the swept sidewalks and stuff." There was no lobby to speak of, but the sidewalks outside were crammed full of people peddling their wares like umbrellas, "used" camera's and phones and I-pods. I actually bought an umbrella for 5e and it worked just fine. We quickly moved our BACKpacks to FRONTpacks and neither of us felt safe. We waited anxiously for the next train to Bressia.

This train was what we now affectionately call "the ghetto train." You can see the graffiti on the side, and the inside was just as ghetto.

 

 

I think we were the only women, but the train was standing room only by many of the peddlers we saw on the sidewalk, illegal immigrants from Nigeria, Romania and Russia. I know this, because we had quite an in-depth conversation with one of the same on our short journey to Bressia. It seems that it is no problem getting into Italy without the proper paperwork, and they live basically together somewhere, selling what they can, work on english and legal paper work. I didn't take pictures because I wanted to keep my camera.

When we got off the ghetto train, all I wanted was a shower. And I may have been dreaming about this a bit because in a flash, some young dark skinned man grabbed my suitcase saying "oh, an American." In a flash he fled down 45 stairs, across the tunnel of tracks and up another 45 stairs. Goodbye suitcase. Goodbye clean clothes. Goodbye make-up. Oh well. Maybe I could buy my suitcase at the next stop.

I am very embarrassed to say that when I made it down, across and up the stairs, my suitcase was waiting on the platform to Verona. There was the young, dark skinned man, grinning, saying "Goodbye, America." I reached into my pocket and offered a couple of euro's and said "Hello, Nigeria." And in his hesitation, I sensed that he was not expecting gratuity but rather, he was simply a kind young man who wanted to help an "elder."

The train from Verona to Roverto was clean, quiet, and we celebrated our successful journey with a bottle of wine in the club car.

The last leg of the journey was a bus ride (short, the web-site assured us) but it was a 45 minute wait, again in pouring rain. After 2 busses passed us by because of no room, a third one stopped just for a moment to let a young boy off. I was not to be denied, and forced Z into the back door of the bus (2 back-packs, 2 suitcases) knocking down a few individuals in the process. I told her to stay there and went out and around the bus to the front to buy our tickets. "NO. There is no room." "We are already ON this bus. We have seats in the back. I just never paid the fare." "NO. You may not board this bus. This is a SCHOOL bus." "And, WE are CHAPERONES!" He took my 5e and somehow I made it to the back to my friend.

45 minutes later we were let off within 500km of our beloved Piccilo-Mondo Hotel, a 5* Hotel, looking like drowned rats who may have not even been allowed to work the night shift. It was 6pm and Thanksgiving dinner was to be served at 7:30.

Ah. Thanksgiving. 2009. I sat at the beautifully appointed table for 15 and quietly gave thanks. For arriving safely at the Piccolo-Mondo, and as our host remembered Pets who had blessed us in the past, I remembered Mickey and Xena. And I was filled with such warmth and love as I gave thanks to my family who is with me on this journey. I feel so grateful that my "children" Megan and Austen are strong, settled and secure enough to allow me this time of exploration and not only allow me, but to encourage me to continue. That, in and of itself is enough Thanksgiving for one day.

So, this was Day 1. Look forward to Day 2, 3, 4. And, please know. I gave thanks to each one of you reading this blog, who is with me on this incredible journey...and who are kind enough to forgive me for my misspellings:-) Happy Thanksgiving!

Oh dear! What have I done