The Half Way Point

Ciao, tutti!

Many, many thanks for the lovely comments I've received here on the blog, via emails and FB comments regarding this 10 day Blog Challenge.  I know it's a bit different, not Venice related, and I truly appreciate you hanging in here with me.  I need to get refocused, back on track, and this is going to help me get there, to get me back into the habit of writing regularly and making more frequent posts on the blog as well.

This blog post is in response to Natalie Sisson's 10 Day Freedom Plan Blog Challenge Day 5. The task for the day is to come up with a daily plan that I will put into place and use every day to help move me towards meeting my goals.

I need to work every day to complete tasks to get our new blog ready to launch and also write content to post on the new blog, and then keep it up regularly going forward. You all know from experience with me on this blog that I get into periods where I am not writing at all, even though I may be doing cool things that are worthy of writing about. I let life get in my way and have gotten out of the habit of writing every day.

Natalie describes a time management activity called the Pomodoro technique (after the timer used to keep track of time which is in the shape of a bright red tomato- thus Pomodoro) which is useful to keep you focused and on task.  You break your work up into small manageable chunks of time, 25 minute increments. You work for 25 minutes straight with no distractions, then give yourself a short break. After the break, you return for another 25 minute block of work. You can continue this several times in succession. I like the way this works. It seems like a workable plan for me, so I've decided to put the Pomodoro plan into action.

My plan to implement this strategy has to begin on Monday, as I already have plans to be out of town for a long weekend beginning early Friday morning. I'm taking the 3 days off- no work for me. The new plan commences Monday. I'm going to commit to three 25 minute work segments each day. I tend to write better in the evenings than in the mornings, so I'll set aside time between 8-10 pm. If I'm diligent about keeping to this work schedule, I should meet my initial goal of launching the blog , and help me stick to to a schedule to add content regularly.

I know I've been talking a lot about this new blog I'm focusing on. While I've been putting my energies in that direction, I have also spent time planning content for The Venice Experience. I've given up the thought of giving this space a visual overhaul, that's just too much on my plate for now, however there is always lots to write about going on here in Venice, and I will be doing that. Definitely NOT abandoning this. It's been my baby since July of 2007.  The Venice Experience will be 10 years old in 2017.  I feel a big birthday bash coming on!

Ok, Blog Challenge #5 is officially completed. And I'm halfway through the 10 days. That's an accomplishment in and of itself. Taking the rest of the night off!


                                            

Living La Dolce Vita- that's why

It's Day 2 of the 10-day blog challenge, and today's task is to write about WHY.   Why is it we want to live our ideal lifestyle, whatever that may be.

This blog post is in response to Natalie Sisson's 10 Day Freedom Plan Blog Challenge Day 2 

This one is easy for me. I get asked that same question almost every day. Why did we want to give up our lives in the US to move to Italy? And I don't have to hesitate about my response. I remember having to do a great deal of soul-searching 10 years ago when we were planning our new life on the other side of the Atlantic.  Then, and now, the WHY is the same.

We'd made several month-long vacations in Italy, most of them here in Venice. Upon re-entry to our normal lives, we always found ourselves missing the slower lifestyle of the Italian culture. We felt trapped by our careers, by our American lifestyle of working practically non-stop.  We were slaves to the American way of living, which we began to see as a culture of greed. We strived for bigger and better, more stuff. And the more "stuff" you had, the more you had to work to support it.  It Italy, we saw people exist with much less, but seemed to be much happier in their smaller existence. We envied that happiness, that joyful spirit we witnessed in Italy.

Rather than be envious of that lifestyle, we chose to adopt it. What was previously important to us- advancing in our careers, earning more money, having more, just wasn't making us happy anymore. And why would we want to spend our days being unhappy? It didn't make sense to us anymore. What became much more important was living simpler, living healthier, living stress-free.

We had to make some tough decisions about getting rid of cars, houses, stuff and learn to live with much less. Doing away with all that stuff was a burden lifted off our shoulders. It was liberating. It gave us our life back.

And so the Why is something I have no trouble answering. To live "la dolce vita". The sweet life.

                                                

Another of my Venetian dreams comes true

For several years now, whenever I watch one of the boating events associated with one of Venice's festivals, for example the Regata Storica or Vogalonga, I have seen this group of local women dressed in pink rowing in a dragon boat with the name Pink Lionesses.  The photo below was from the Carnevale event in Cannaregio canal in 2013.  Every time I've watched them row, I wished I could be rowing with them. Today that wish came true.

A few months ago, I decided to try to see if I might join their group. There was an email address on their website listed as a contact, so I sent off a message. I got back a response inviting me to attend a holiday dinner they were having. Unfortunately, timing didn't work out for us, so I did not connect on that occasion. 

About 2 weeks ago, I decided I should take another try at contacting them. I shot off another email. This time I received a response inviting me to come row with them that Friday.  As my luck would have it, I wasn't free then either. So I responded with my thanks and asked if I might get a rain check some other day soon.  Yesterday I double checked my calendar, I was going to be free the following day, a day the ladies have a practice row. I sent off an email to Donatella,  the woman who had responded the last time, asking if I might come on Wednesday.  I got back a "Yes!".  I was instructed to show up at the Bucintoro rowing club in the Maggazino del Sale on the Zattere at 3 pm, wearing sweats and tennis shoes. 

Excited and elated, I set off for the Maggazino del Sale on the 4.2 vaporetto today.  I had had zero experience rowing this kind of boat, but was eager and willing to learn. Just as I was arriving, a few other women were also walking in the door, wearing pink jackets. Easy to recognize.I was in the right place. A few seconds later, Donatella entered the room and walked right up to me smiling a huge smile. After brief introductions, I got the two kisses on the cheeks welcome! Then Donatella sits me down and says we need to talk.  She explained that the requirement to be a member of the Pink Lionesses is that you must be a Breast Cancer surgery survivor.  I knew the group was associated with supporting survivors of Breast Cancer, but I didn't know you had to be a survivor. I thought supporting the cause would be enough. I also thought they had a large number of members. They have 15 members here in Venice. 

Donatella went on to explain more about the organization, and how rowing is a very therapeutic way to recover from breast cancer surgery. Sadly, since I had not had breast cancer surgery, I could not be a member. After thanking Donatella for her time, I was about to head for the door. She gave me her big smile again and said, "But come row with us today. Let's see how you do."  She took me upstairs to meet the other Pink Lionesses, they lent me a pink jacket, outfitted me with an oar and a pink life jacket, and we went outside to get the dragon boat into the water. 

Here are 5 of the women in the boat about to be lowered into the Giudecca canal.  A few women go into the water with the boat, then they row around to the next canal where everyone else boards the boat. I got the last seat, partnered with Donatella.  She gave me some tips about how to make the correct stroke with the paddle in the water. Before I knew it, off we went.

I caught on quickly. This is much easier than rowing in the Venetian style standing up.  In the dragonboat, you sit down, like a canoe. There is one person in the tail end steering and yelling out instructions. Francesco, the young man handling that job was fantastic, as were all the women rowing with me today.

There is something special about being in a boat rowing down the Grand Canal. I could barely believe I was actually there, doing something I'd only dreamed of.   As vaporettos and gondolas with passengers passed us, everyone cheered and applauded the pink lionesses.  I wanted to cheer for them myself, but I had a paddle in my hand that needed to be dealt with.

We headed up the Grand Canal towards Rialto. When we got under the Rialto bridge, the women all shouted "Ciao, Ragazze!"  Donatella leaned over to explain they were giving a special tribute to all the other women who had not survived their battle against breast cancer.

As we approached San Marcuolo, we slowed the pace and came to a halt. Each pair of women, starting with the first row, then proceeding row by row to the back, exchanged places on their bench. Donatella explained the changing of positions allows each woman to exercise the muscles in both shoulders and arms each time they practice. Right after we switched positions, we turned the boat around and headed back towards Dorsoduro.

We rowed for an hour and a half.  The women talked and joked amongst themselves as they rowed, but I was afraid if I got in on the banter I'd lose my concentration and wouldn't keep up with the pace of rowing. We made our way back to the canal where we'd boarded the boat to disembark.  As we helped one another out of the boat, each of the women asked me how I liked it and if I was tired. My shoulders were feeling it a little, but I just loved every minute of it.

After every row, the boat is washed before it is put away. I got to join in on the clean up activities too. It was a little sad to have to take off my pink life preserver and jacket.

 There are almost no words to describe how honored I was today to be welcomed by  and to be in the midst of this group of courageous, strong,  beautiful women, and to be allowed to share in something so special. I could not, and would never understand the struggle these women have gone through and continue to face on a daily basis.

As I said my goodbyes, the women called out "Come row with us on Friday!"

Buona Pasqua tutti!

You know it's getting close to Easter when you see these huge chocolate eggs appear in the windows of the bakery shops all over Italy.  When I was little, I remember my mother would receive a huge chocolate egg in the mail from her relatives in Caserta, Italy every year. I thought they had to be the most wonderful thing in the world.   Wouldn't it be incredible to get one of these eggs ?

 Another of the signs Easter is just around the corner are the posters in all of the butcher shops reminding you to order your lamb for Easter dinner.

Just like Panettone is the traditional Christmas cake, at  Easter the cake you see sold in all the shops is called the Colombo,because it is shaped  like a bird (technically a dove), with candied orange pieces inside.  There isn't much difference between a Panettone and the Colombo, besides the shape. The Colombo I bought this year is a miniature, only about 4 inches in length. Unfortunately for me this year I am on a strict diet enforced by my doctor. If I had bought the regular Colombo, I would have had very little will power not to eat  the whole darned thing. At least with this tiny one, I have a shot at not blowing my diet too badly. (It is still safely wrapped in it's plastic, gone untouched the whole day. I'm doing my best to stick to the rules of this diet. I'm quite afraid of this doctor!)

                                        




We love to color eggs for our  Easter baskets, however, we have not done any egg dying since we've moved to Italy because the eggs sold in the markets here are brown.  Brown eggs don't dye quite the same as white ones.  This year we found eggs already colored at our local market on Via Garibaldi. We couldn't resist, these came home with us. Already hard boiled too.

                                           

Easter baskets are not typical here as they are in the United States.  In Italy the custom is to give a huge chocolate egg. Inside is a surprise of some kind.  We've not done the big eggs in previous years, but this was a year for some firsts.  Besides the colored eggs, this big egg found it's way home with us from the grocery store this Easter.  It's about a foot and a half tall.

                                            

We were curious what surprise we'd find inside!  Mike carefully unwrapped the colorful foil, to discover that the egg was sitting in a plastic cup. So the egg wasn't quite as big as we thought it was, but still, it was big enough!

                                            

 Eager to see what was hidden inside, Mike broke off a piece of the egg. Inside was a small plastic wrapped package.  It was a mini-bowling game, complete with 6 tiny bowling pins and a ball. "Made in China" was clearly stamped on the label.   This is making it's way into our trash bin in the morning. So much for surprises!

With this diet I'm on, I'm allowed 20 grams of dark chocolate for part of my mid-day snack one day a week. I think we're going to break our egg up into pieces and store them in a zip-lock bag so I can take out 20 grams each week. Our egg won't go to waste!

As you can see, some of our old Easter traditions have gone by the way side, traded for new ones. Living in a different place requires you to adapt to different things.

What are  some of your Easter traditions?

Hope you all had a wonderful day filled with family and friends.
Buona Pasqua!

Could this day get any longer????

Today didn't turn out anything like I anticipated. It was way worse, but it gave me yet another huge reminder that living in a  foreign country isn't always fun and games.  Just maneuvering the simplest of tasks can often times be frustrating beyond belief.  Here's a case in point:  this morning I needed to go to the bank to make a payment to someone elsewhere in Italy by sending money from my bank to their bank account, sort of equivalent to a wire transfer. Here it's called a bonifico.  I was diligent about gathering all of the information I would need before I set out for Via Garibaldi. I'd done this before, I thought I knew what to expect. Confident this would be a piece of cake, off I went.

First there is the fun of just getting inside the bank door to contend with you. If you've never tried this in Italy, I highly recommend you give it a go if you are here, just for the fun of it.  There isn't a normal door at the entrance to bank, but rather a rounded glass door, sort of like a pod or transport system you might imagine being used to "beam you up".  To get into this portal of sorts, you must press a green button located to the right of the door.  You go into the bank one person at a time. First the outer pod door opens, allowing you to enter this portal type thing. Ok, you are now inside the "pod".  Then, you press yet another green button, and a second rounded door opens, allowing you to exit the pod and into the bank.  I get a kick out of this every time I have to use it.

Once inside the bank, you wait your turn. Fortunately this morning, the wait was almost non-existent. I took my seat opposite the clerk on the other side of the counter, whose name is Fabio. I see him frequently up and down Via Garibaldi. Fabio is an interesting looking character, with shoulder length flowing white hair. He looks more like a rock star than a bank teller.

I explain to Fabio what I need to have done, he accesses my account on his computer and announces that I must go to the branch location where I opened my account, at Piazzale Roma, to answer some questionnaire and sign a document before he can do anything for me.  Nothing. I am at a branch of my bank, but he cannot process whatever this questionnaire is, and I can do no banking until this is handled. I have no clue what he's talking about, but decide I need to get to the other bank and get whatever it is taken care of.  I exit the bank, again using the 2 green buzzer door system, and get to the nearest vaporetto stop as soon as I can. It's nearly a 55 minute boat ride on the #1 boat from Via Garibaldi to Piazzale Roma, and the #1 was the boat pulling up.  Rather than wait for a boat that would take less time, I hopped on this one and quickly figured I could disembark at Ca'Rezzonico and walk faster than do the whole ride on the boat.

My decision to walk paid off, I arrived at the bank 20 minutes before the boat would have docked. Again, I entered the bank using the green buzzers and the beam-me-up portal, and waited my turn inside.
When it was my turn at the sportello (that's the counter, in American terms), the clerk tells me that yes, I must answer the questionnaire and sign it.  The questionnaire turns out to be about money-laundering. The bank wants to know where I got all the money I deposited into my account since March 2013.  Here's where things get very funny, and I really wanted to laugh, but knew that would piss everyone off. See, I deposited only 200 Euros in this account in the last 12 months. I kept a straight face as best I could, filled out the form, signed it, and proceeded to handle the matter I went to the bank for in the first place. I had a second matter at the bank this morning also, but decided I needed a big break. The second matter could wait until my screaming headache went away.

Home I went.  I relaxed over lunch and a cup of tea.  At 3:15 pm I made my way back to Via Garibaldi to my local branch, which would be able to service my banking needs now that my money laundering questionnaire had been completed. Fabio, my teller from the morning, was busy with someone else, so I had the pleasure of being served by his colleague (whose name I am trying to forget, so I won't bother to mention it here. HE knows who he is).

The teller processed my transaction 3 times, and reversed it twice, because he couldn't quite make up his mind how he wanted to do it. He could use money that was already in my account, or I could deposit money into my account, or I could just pay in cash for the payment I needed to make. I told him I didn't care how he did it as long as it got done.  What probably should have taken 5 minutes took him 40 minutes. It got done, and I had another whopper headache.

Before I left the bank, I decided to take on one more task. The reason I had to hike all the way to Piazzale Roma to the bank to sign that f-ing form this morning is because I had not moved my account to my local area after I moved apartments. I use the bank about once a year (and you can see why not) so this wasn't a priority for me.  Big mistake.  In Italy, not all services can be done for you in a branch office if it's not the location you opened the account at. I never wanted to have to haul my butt to Piazzale Roma again. Solution: stick around a bit longer and go through the process to have my account moved. I had to see a different agent for this.  (Thank goodness, because I probably would have strangled my friend Teller #2 if I had to deal with him one more minute).

Moving the bank account was painless, thankfully.  However, the whole thing is not a done deal yet. It will take some time, a few days, it is explained to me, to have his colleague at Piazzale Roma do who knows what, and at that time I will be issued a new bank account number. Huh?  Same bank, different branch and it needs a whole new number? I am in disbelief. I don't really care for an explanation at this point, I just want them to do what they need to do and get it all done with. With my headache pounding even harder, I made a very quick exit.  At least in a few days some of these woes will have been resolved. Hopefully my headached will be gone by then also.

Pazienza. Pazienza. Pazienza.

Nothing but blue skies, from now on.

After three days of nebbia, nebbia and more nebbia  (fog), going from grey skies to this clear blue sky was like getting a fantastic very unexpected gift.    

The clear sky and warmer temperatures were an invitation to get out for a long walk, with camera, of course. At mid-day, the light was just right for some incredible reflections in the canals. These first three are from the Castello district, the remaining from around Cannaregio, ending in the Ghetto.  Days like today make me wish I had even the tiniest bit of talent for painting with watercolors. 

(Special thanks to Irving Berlin for his song, Blue Skies. I've been humming it all day.)

A foggy day in Venice

If you have never been to Venice in winter before, these photos will give you a little taste of what a winter day can be like:  fog so thick you can't see anything in front of your face.  It's days like this that you can feel mystery in the air. You can just imagine people wearing dark flowing capes disappearing down long narrow calles. It's quintessential Venice. 

 To the right of this shot, you should be able to see some of Sant'Elena's trees. Can't see a thing!

 In this shot, you should be able to see all the trees of Giardini just in the middle of the photo, but you can't see a one. Like it never even existed.

 I have no idea how vaporetto drivers cope on days like this. I know they have radar. Still, I'd be a nervous wreck.  I didn't see one of the smaller motoscafi ( lines 6, 5.1, 5.2, 4.1, 4.2) all day long, I think they were cancelled because of zero visibility.

 Beautiful foggy view on the Grand Canal

 This photo was taken about 2 pm. That's the sun trying to make an appearance. 

Kind of spooky. Venice in the haze.

Like I said, this kind of weather brings out Venice's  mysterious moods. Made me want to run buy a cape. Maybe tomorrow!

28th Venice Marathon October 27, 2013

Quite a bit of fog greeted us Sunday morning, and I knew right away it might be a blessing in disguise for the 28th running of the Venice Marathon. Last October on race day we had Aqua Alta. Not so good for the participants. This day seemed a bit more optimistic, weather-wise. I'd been excited for race day for a couple of weeks already, ever since I watched construction teams erecting the temporary bridges over the 13 bridges along the course in the city of Venice.

People who wander around Venice this time of year have the notion that the ramps are for the assistance of handicapped people, and comment how nice this is to have. What a great help in toting luggage up and down the bridges. I am quick to remind them this is not permanent, and is only intended for the Marathon runners to make the up and down of bridges easier. None-the-less, the arrival of the ramps starts to get me in the mood.

In previous years, I've taken up a position at the San Basilio vaporetto stop, in Dorsoduro, which is one of the first good vantage point to catch the racers coming into Venice. After watching the first set of very fast runners, I'd wander down to Nico's, grab a table and a cup of tea and spend a few hours cheering on the rest of the runners as they made their way down the Zattere.

This year, I chose something a little different. Since I now live so close to Giardini, where the finish line is, I thought it might be very interesting to see the race from a new perspective. Also, my hairdresser, Simone, had been training to run the Marathon for the first time ever this year, and he had suggested I catch him at the finish line. So, that was my plan.  Unfortunately, poor Simone suffered an injury to his left knee 2 weeks ago during a training run that was going to sideline him this year.

I calculated, based on previous race times, that it should take the fastest runners about 2 hours to reach Giardini. I set off a little before 11 am, taking the #1 vaporetto to Giardini.  I knew that the finish line was going to be right after Via Garibaldi, so my plan was to exit the vaporetto and walk up the street to that spot.  The #1 was making regular stops, except for the San Marco Vallresso stop which was closed all day to allow the runners to come over the temporary bridge and run into St. Mark's square.

My great plan was stymied before I got very far!  Once I disembarked from the boat, the entire street to my left leading from Viale Garibaldi up the waterfront was blocked off- for the race, of course. I had to walk up Viale Garibaldi and then up Via Garibaldi to reach the waterfront. I figured by the time I got there any good spots along the racecourse would be occupied already. Not to be daunted, I made my way to the Riva.

Someone up there was looking down on me because there was a small opening along the barricade at the bottom of the last bridge the runners would run over, just yards from the official finish line.
I grabbed my position.  I was in a great spot, and also close to the race announcer who was doing a play-by-play commentary, sort of.  He was announcing what the official race time at each kilometer break , for example at 35 kilometers, at 37.5 kilometers, at 40 kilometers.  From him, I knew exactly when the "elite" men's group, comprised of the first 5 runners, had crossed over the Ponte di Liberta into Venice.  He announced the positions of these first 5, so I knew the Kenyans were in front, and an Italian runner was in 4th place coming over the bridge.  His running commentary made the short wait a bit more entertaining, especially as the men were running over the Grand Canal and into St. Mark's square.  This announcer was issuing his commentary in Italian, German and English, but his comments in English kept a grin on my face. He'd say things like " Lalli, the Italian runner, is in 4th position. Would we like him to move up?? Yes, People!"

Right after the men exited St. Mark's and were making their way down the Riva degli Schiavoni, the announcer reported that one of the racers from Kenya had developed some sort of problem and was now walking. He'd lost his early lead, sadly. The announcer got the crowd going, yelling, "Masai, Masai, come on!, We're with you. Come on , Masai!" , as well as encouraging everyone to cheer for Andrea Lalli, the Italian runner in this elite men's group.

The first two men off the last bridge in front of me were Kenyans, with Machichim in first place. Third place went to Andrea Lalli. Fourth was Masai, doing a slow run/limp, with another Kenyan runner in fifth.  Unfortunately, between the last bridge where I was, and the official finish line, Masai lost his 4th place finish to the man behind him who loped past him. Two hours and 9 minutes to run 26 miles!  I have no idea how they do it.  One of the reasons I love watching this marathon so much is the fact that I will never be running anything like this. I'm lucky if I can do a slow run down the street anymore, what with my arthritic knees!

    First place finisher, Machichim from Kenya

Third place to Andrea Lalli of Italy

Forza *in Italian means force, strength, power, or  spirit)  is often yelled at soccer matches and other events to encourage the participants. Just as we were waiting for the runners to hit this last bridge, the ship FORZA passed my vantage point. Certainly apropo. 

After the first wave of elite men completed the race, there is a bit of a lull waiting until the remaining several thousands of runners make their way towards the finish line.  I met Mike for a bite of lunch on Via Garibaldi, then headed up for Rialto by vaporetto. The boat went under the temporary bridge, I caught sight of several runners on their way over the Grand Canal. Many of them were stopping to take photos! I can imagine this is quite an unusual race course, and a unique opportunity to run over one of the most famous canals in the world.




Runners crossing the temporary bridge between Dogana Point and San Marco

My next year plan is already in swirling in my head.... thinking about volunteering to be along the race course, hopefully on the Zattere.

Yesterdays mission ---accomplished.

(This photo has nothing to do with the topic of this blog, other than the fact that I snapped it on the way to my mission yesterday, and it made me happy)


Procrastination is my middle name. I think I've admitted to it somewhere in my blog before. I ought to join a 12-step program for it- Procrastinators, Anonymous. Is there such a program at Betty Ford?? Yesterday, procrastination came and bit me on the rear end yet again. You think I would have learned by now, but no....

The thing I procrastinate about most here in Venice is dealing with the Italian government. If I have to do anything... ANYTHING..where I have to brush elbows, shoulders, fingertips even, with the Italian government in any way, I am going to put it off until there is absolutely no putting it off any longer. Well, guess what, yesterday was that day. There was no way around it, I had to go deal with them. It takes all the will power in the world for me to gear up for it. I can predict it will end in no good. My stomach starts to churn, my nerves kick in, I'm just a royal mess. And this is quite unlike me. Normally, I don't take crap from anyone. On this side of the Atlantic I have been conditioned to be a bit less assertive. Maybe that's a bit more cooperative. Docile even. Whatever it will take to get through with the least amount of agony.

I spent the entire first year of our lives here in Italy dealing with the Italian governement. Days and days and days of horrendously painful experiences going head to head with some clerk at some sportello   (counter - you know the ones like at the Department of Motor Vehicles in the US?) at some agency in some city somewhere in Italy. Venice, Bologna, south of Bologna, the whole region of Liguria- I was there. None of them were very happy experiences. And as a result- my dealings with any Italian agency become an occassion for me to put my middle name into practice. I procrastinate.

Yesterday I had to pay a visit to the Anagrafe office near Rialto. The Anagrafe is the Italian version of the Department of Vital Records in most states in the US.  I had the forms I needed all filled out, I thought I was ready, and set off nice and early for what I predicted would be a long morning. Happily, the office was almost empty when I arrived. Me, another girl, and an elderly couple already in place at Sportello numero 7.  I took my number and took a seat. With it being so empty, I thought this wouldn't require much waiting. Wrong. The little old couple were still at Sportello numero 7 over 35 minutes after I took my seat. I also needed Sportello 7, and so did the other girl a few seats over. Patience, Karen. Just find some patience. Too bad I never learned to whistle!

I kept myself busy scanning the internet (yes, thanks be to God, there was internet reception inside the building).  Finally, it was my turn.  I take my spot in front of the glass divider at Sportello numero 7, hand over my forms, and make sure I tell the guy on the other side right off the bat that I don't speak Italian fluently, but if he speaks slowly, I will understand him. Right, that didn't click because he started rattling off at warp speed as he proceeded to review all the fields I had filled in on the form. Blah, blah, blah, yes, hmm, ok... and what are the other names of the people who live in the apartment with you?  I pointed out that I had that information already filled in. Two of us.  Yes, but who else?  No one else. More people- who are they?  After several rounds back and forth, I finally got him to understand that it was only just us two- my husband and I. Ok. Fine. He asks me to hand over the identification documents for my husband, which I don't have on me. Bingo!  I knew this would happen!!!

This is the same rouse they use every time. They make sure they withhold some detail - something you need to do or have with you. When you get up to that Sportello thinking everything it's going to be smooth sailing, that you have everything possible--WHAM! They tell you something you didn't do, which requires you to go home and return another day.  Not this time. I make sure I clearly understand the documents he is asking for, get on the phone to Mike, tell him to make copies and hop on the next boat to Rialto.  I turn to the guy behind the glass divider, smile, and tell him my husband will arrive Subito (right away). I won't need to return another day.  He says Good. When he comes, you don't need to take another number. Just come to the window.

I knew it would take Mike about 30 minutes to get from Sant'Elena to the Anagrafe office, so I took the opportunity to go have myself a cup of tea at a nearby caffe in Campo San Luca.  While I sat in the caffe I had time to reflect on my adventure so far, and compared it to those of 5 years ago. Five years ago I would have turned tail and slunk out of that office so fast you wouldn't have seen me go if you blinked your eye for a nanosecond. Five years ago I would have been stammering, pointing, showing the guy a piece of paper with my Google translated questions and answers on it. Not today. I was speaking Italian, I didn't slink anywhere. I know the score at this point was still City Hall -1, Karen 0, but the day wasn't over yet and I was ready to go for Round 2.

While waiting, I also had a conversation with a lovely couple from Norway who were seated next to me. Had I ever been to Norway, they asked. No, but we have friends there. We have friends there! Listen to me!  Yes, I can say we have friends in Norway now. Venice has done this for me. I can tell you with 100% certainty that had I still been living in Baltimore I would never have made friends who live in Norway. I now have friends around the globe, in fact.  I spent the rest of my time waiting for Mike to show up reflecting on the many ways my life has changed since getting on a plane to Venice in 2008 and not looking back.

Mike arrived with the necessary copies in hand. Yes. Round 2. We go back into the office and stand near Sportello numero 7.  The guy behind the glass divider has been replaced by a woman, but she nods in our direction and mouths that we should wait a little bit. She handles one more customer quickly then motions us over.  She takes the copies of Mike's identification, then looks up and says I need copies of your Codice Fiscale and Karen's Carta d'Identita (like a tax id number and my Italian identification card). Well, we have the originals with us. No, she needs a photocopy of all of them. Why didn't Guy #1 tell us this the first time?  I bit my tougue and kept that question to myself.  She gave directions to a place in Campo San Luca where copies could be obtained quickly, sent Mike on the errand and motioned me to take a seat to wait.  No new number needed.

Ten minutes later, Mike returns with the photocopies. Two minutes after that we were back at the Sportello. One more minute and we had a printed out receipt and were out of there!

We headed over to Campo Santa Margherita to run a few errands and grab a quick lunch.  I sent Mike to our local fish monger Paolo to buy shrimp and mussels while I headed into Punto, the local grocery store for the few items I needed, with plans to meet up at the caffe to eat.  Shopping completed, I walked across the campo towards our meeting spot. Rosella, Paolo the fishmongers mother who also works at the stall, gives me a wave, and yells to me "I have your shrimp all cleaned for you!".   I did a detour over to Rosella, paid her, retrieved my package and went to meet my husband for lunch. I am loving life. Does it get any better than this???

Over lunch, Mike and I replayed the morning, noting how different it went compared to what we would have done several years ago. This mornings transaction would have turned into a 3 trip event before we had a receipt in our hands. It might have even required hauling a friend along to do some talking for us. Not this time. We stuck it out, managed it all in one swoop and kept our cool.

We even shared a laugh about the guy asking for all the rest of the names of the people who lived with us in the apartment, not believing it was only us two.  I suggested to Mike that I probably should have listed 27 Bangladeshi who throw those annoying blue lights up into the sky in St. Mark's square.  If you have been to Venice recently, you know those guys too. It would have been fun to see the expression on that Anagrafe guy's face!

Secret Garden update

Just about every morning Mike and I make a run down to our "Orto" to see what new developments might have happened overnight.  In the evenings we've been watering and weeding. Today I took a few photos so you can see the progress going on there.

 Melanzane!!!  We actually have 8 of these beauties hanging on the vine- ranging from about 2 inches to 5 inches. We want to let them fatten up a little bit more before we start harvesting, in the meantime our mouths are watering!!!  For what seems like weeks we looked at flowers on the vine, but nothing else, and thought sadly that we weren't going to get any eggplants at all. This was our very first attempt at eggplant, we had no idea what to expect, and to be honest were a bit disappointed when we saw tons of zucchini but no melanzane. About a week ago we started seeing little purple eggplants .... we have babies!!!

 Perhaps by September there just might be one ear of corn in the garden. We're just starting to see some silks appear, that's a good sign. We miss corn on the cob a lot, so we might be fighting over that one ear!!!

 There is a bumper crop of tomatos going on in the garden- lots and lots of cherry tomatoes, and these bigger ones, even some heirloom tomatoes and what looks like just one daterino plant. We've been pulling ripe cherry tomatoes off every day and popping them in our mouths right then and there. They don't have a prayer. They will never even make it up to the kitchen!

 Hot peppers, and lots of them. Have no idea what we'll be doing with them all. Any suggestions?

 This tomatoe is just about ready.. maybe a day or two more until it is nice and ripe.

This is yesterday's zucchini harvest. Last night we made 2 loaves of zucchini bread. Tonight for dinner we made fried zucchini in batter. Tomorrow it will be zucchini quiche. We're going to have to get pretty creative, cause there are new ones to harvest every time we go to the garden.

We're so lucky to have this special space, and even luckier that it had been a garden for years and years before us. There's something magical about vegetables grown in Italy, they just taste better. Must be the combination of that Italian sun and soil.  

If your name is MARCO.....

...then today is your day!  April 25 is St. Mark's Day, the date of the death of St. Mark, the patron saint of Venice. So yes, this is quite a day for Venetians. And, if your name is Marco, or Mark, it is also your name day.  That makes it about as big a day as your birthday.

Just when you think there is enough to celebrate today, the Italians throw in Liberation Day, commemorating the fall of Mussolini's Social Republic and the end of Nazi occupation of Italy in 1945. This makes the day an Italian national holiday, and a bank holiday. Yes, everyone has the day off.

But wait.. for Venetians, we're not done yet. April 25 is also Festa del Bocolo, or the Festival of the Red Rose. It is tradition for men to give a single long-stemmed rose blossom to the women he loves- mom, grandmother, sister, aunt, wife, girl friend, lover.  Legend has it that way back in the 8th century, a man of  low social status fell in love with a girl from the opposite side of the tracks- a noblewoman. In order to impress the girl's father in the hopes that he would allow them to marry, the young man went off to war. During battle he was wounded. As he was dying, he picked a rose bud from a bush, and asked one of his comrades to carry the bloodstained flower back home to his beloved. This is just one version of the story of this holiday, however it works for me, so that's the one I chose to share today.  And so , all over Venice on this day, men make a bee-line to a florist or street vendor selling roses.

Here's my red rose.

We opted to stay away from all the festivities going on in St. Mark's square and around Venice today. Instead, we hopped on a vaporetto with the intention of going a bit farther out in search of a nice fresh fish lunch.  Moeche, tiny soft shelled crabs of the Venetian lagoon who make their appearance in spring were the daily special, we could not pass them up. 

Buona Pasqua!

Happy Easter and Buona Pasqua!

Of all the things I've had to get accustomed to living here on the other side of the Atlantic ocean, learning about new traditions and how the locals celebrate holidays is one of my favorites.  I have learned that  somewhere around 2 -3 weeks before Easter I must make a stop at Drogheria Moscari near the Rialto Bridge (on the San Polo side) to check out their huge chocolate egg. Once I see their window display of chocolate eggs, chocolate bunnies and their one enormous chocolate egg covered with elaborate decorations, I know Easter is just around the corner. It's probably my favorite thing about this holiday.

Another Easter time favorite of mine is seeing all of the grocery stores and bakeries display the "Colombo" , a cake like dessert in the shape of a bird, in their windows.  This tastes a lot like the Christmas time Panetone, it has candied citrus baked in it, and almonds on the top, and has a consistency that is a cross between a bread and a cake.  Even though I see it in shop windows for most of the month preceeding Easter Sunday, I wait until a day or two prior to the holiday before I buy mine. The anticipation makes it so much more enjoyable. It isn't Easter without at least one Colombo!

Coloring hard boiled eggs is not a tradition here. In fact, I scouted all over this side of Venice the other day in search of white eggs. No luck. All I could find were brown eggs. I don't think those would be very good to color. I'm thinking Italian children might really like doing this. Did not find any Paas boxes of dye for eggs either.

Easter baskets are not common here either. Instead, children receive one fairly large chocolate egg about a foot tall that is already packaged and wrapped in fancy paper by some chocolate maker. Inside the egg is some little toy for the child.

And the Easter egg hunt doesn't exist here either. I mentioned it to a friend of mine the other day, and she told me she had only ever seen it in a movie. Sant'Elena has a lovely grassy park right in front of our apartment which might just become the site of a big American style Easter egg hunt next year. I'm already plotting!!!  

News from the Conclave Day 1

Black smoke from the 1st vote - no new pope tonight.

The results of the first vote by the Cardinals holed up in the Sistine Chapel are in. They could not come to a majority agreement. I figured as much. I think getting a majority vote, 77  out of the 115 total cardinals voting, is going to be a difficult task.

Tomorrow morning the next two votes are scheduled. Stay tuned for my next smoke report. 

Buona Festa della Donna!

If you anywhere in Italy this week, including Venice, over the past few days you would have seen street vendors and florist shops selling small bunches of the yellow mimosa for Festa della Donna.  March 8 is  International Women's Day, a day which commemorates the 129 women who died in a factory fire in Chicago in 1908.   The day also commemorates a strike by women garment workers on March 8,  1857 in New York which prompted the first women's union.  The mimosa is given as a sign of solidarity and respect for women.

When I first came to Italy I remembered being very curious about all the mimosas, as I had never seen this in the US. I don't remember ever knowing about this special day. I know about Mother's day, but had not ever been introduced to International Day of Women, and I'd worked all my life too.
But here in Italy, it's a huge deal.  That I had never heard of this day bothered me enough to start doing a little research, and discovered that while the day has been celebrated around the world for over 100 years it has not yet gained that kind of attention in the US.

Seems like this is the perfect opportunity for another Hallmark occasion.  I'm going to need all of you in the US to chime in on whether this has become a bigger event in the US since I've been here. Are all  you ladies getting bunches of mimosas today?  We are in Venice.

Buona Festa della Donna to all of you, wherever you are in the world. I'm sending virtual mimoas.

Happy Valentine's Day- Venice Style

Beginning with our first cappuccino at a local cafe this morning, we were feeling the love, Venice Style!

We set off in search of a particular local legend very much related to a love story- the heart shaped stone. We'd been to this spot years ago, it was time to revisit it. And what better day than today. 

Most of the stories you read about this spot in Castello say simply that if you are here as a couple and both touch the stone, your love will last forever. If you are alone and make a wish about love while touching the stone, then that wish will come true within a year. 

We've read another version of this legend that goes like this: 

 A young Venetian  fisherman who fished in the waters at Malamocca heard a voice calling to him one night while he was out fishing. He heard a girl begging to be freed, and then he saw a beautiful girl, however she was a mermaid.  They fell in love and she agreed to marry him, on the condition that he not come to see her ever on a Saturday.  He promised, but after a short while could not keep his promise, he went to see her on a Saturday, but all he found was a large serpent in the water. The snake said she had told him not to come, that because of a curse she was condemned to be a serpent every Saturday. However, if he married her, she would always be as beautiful as he had seen her. 

They did get married and had 3 children. The beautiful girl got very sick and died, and the young man returned her body to the sea as she had asked. The young father with 3 small children was very distressed, not sure he could manage a job and the children himself. Every day upon returning home from work he found the house spotlessly clean. One day he came home earlier than usual and discovered a serpent in the house. He killed the snake,  and from that time on, the house was no longer cleaned. He realized the snake he killed had to have been his beautiful wife. 

In remembrance of this love story the brick heart was placed at their house at the Sotoportego dei Preti in Castello. 

Next time you find yourself in Castello, find the heart shaped stone and make your own wish. It doesn't have to be on San Valentino day.