Yesterday's adventure ---- la caldaia (the boiler)

La Caldaia. If you have never seen one of these gadgets, let me introduce you to it. It's in every kitchen, it's the magic appliance that heats your hot water - on demand (well sort of on demand, you do have to wait for the hot water to run through the pipes and get to you, so if you are opening the hot water faucet you wait a while until the water runs hot.) La caldaia also provides the hot water necessary for your heating. And yes, it is on the wall. Ours developed some problems recently, it's been dripping water, and not retaining water in the tank. Clearly it needed repairs, so we contacted our "padrone", the owners of the apartment. I love that word "padrone". It's so Godfather-like. He came over to take a look, and told us he'd call us later so he could schedule a repairman when we would be at home. Within hours we got a call. The appointment was scheduled. 8:30 am the next day.

I was the one who would be home at the time, so I prepared my Italian statements in advance in case I had to tell the repairman what was wrong. We've learned that most people outside of the hotel and tourist industry do not speak anything but Italian, and here, it's even worse. Everyone speaks the Venetian dialect. I did a quick little prayer to the saint who's in charge of broken Caldaia's, with the hope that I would NOT have to do any explanations. I double checked my sentences using Google Translate. Oh my god, what would I do without this! I declared myself ready. I was able to go to sleep that night without this hanging over my head.

At about 8:45 am the doorbell rang. I pushed the button upstairs that unlocks the front door, and I heard the repairman enter. Other apartments here have a great system where you can actually talk to the person at the door first using a speaker system, but ours doesn't have that. That's another story!

My preparations came in handy. I did have to explain our problems (maybe I used the wrong saint??) and the guy set to work in the kitchen. I left him alone. Before long, he was asking me to show him the thermostat. Fortunately, I understand pretty well, and was able to direct him to the right place on the wall with no problems. A little bit later, he came asking for where something or other was, and I had no clue what he wanted. It took a little bit of back and forth before I understood that he was looking for an exhaust to the outside of the house. We both searched the kitchen, even pulled out the stove from the wall, but didn't find what he was looking for. Finally we tried pulling a cabinet away from the wall, and there it was. I hope that helped, cause I left the kitchen again.

About an hour later, he was finished doing whatever he was doing. In Italian he proceeds to tell me that we should not turn this one dial higher than where he had set it, otherwise if it was set any higher, pressure would build up in the tank and it would cause the dripping again. I'm not saavy on this kind of stuff, so I just nodded my head and thanked him.

When Mike came home a few hours later, I did the replay of the transaction for him. He's got alot more knowledge of how things work-- but he didn't buy the explanation about why not to set the water temperature any higher. That dial controlled the water temp, and what if we wanted hotter water??? Fortuantely, it seemed as if the water was getting hot enough, so we were ok on that. But.. by this time, we discovered that la caldaia was still dripping. Much less than before, but still dripping.

Guess I will be preparing another set of sentences for the return of the Caldaia guy!!!

Buon Natale....and lots of Aqua Alta

Buon Natale a tutti!! (Merry Christmas to all!). See- my Italian lessons are paying off!

This year we put up our first Christmas tree in Venice. We finally broke down and purchased a fake tree. We've always had a real tree, some years even two of them. Venice, however, is not an easy city for live trees. In fact, our Italian tutor explained to us that most of Italy uses fake trees. If you buy a live tree, you would typically plant it after the holiday in your garden. Since not too many people have gardens, there aren't many live trees. Real trees already cut don't seem to exist here at all. There are no cut Christmas tree stands on every street corner like we are used to in the US. Egg nog isn't readily available here, either, by the way!!

We contemplated finding a live tree, even a small one, however we'd have to haul it across Venice, then also deal with how to discard the tree once the holidays were over. It all seemed way too much work. So, we made our way to the Panorama in Marghera by bus, purchased an acceptable fake tree and some Italian lights to put on it, and hauled it home. Constructing the tree was a breeze; in fact, way less work than we ever expected. We actually had fun! We even hung lights on our balcony. No one decorates the houses here like we are used to in the U.S. No Santas and reindeer on the rooftops, no lights surrounding every door and window, not even wreaths on the doors. About the only exterior decoration we see is a Babbo Natale (Santa Claus) hanging outside a window or on a balcony.

Most of our friends and family in the United States are enjoying a very White Christmas after this past week's blizzard. My mom tells me more is predicted for today.

We did have some snow on Saturday (photos in my last post), about 4 inches, which lasted maybe a day on the ground. However, we've had Aqua Alta every day this week. Really high water! I wish I had photos to post, unfortunately these all occurred during the night, so the water had receeded by morning, at least in our neighborhood.

There's a siren warning system when Aqua Alta (high water) is going to happen, which gives you a bit of time to prepare. About 3 hours before peak tide, the sirens go off all over the city. There's one long loud blast, sort of like an air-raid siren, followed by a series of tones. The series of tones indicate about how high the water will be. Just the first tone indicates it will be about 6-8 inches high, on up to 4 tones, which signifies water over 140 cm (thats's about 4 1/2 feet). Every night this week the water has been between 130-144 cm high, in the lowest parts of the city, about 2 feet high back where we live in Santa Croce.

When the sirens go off, you scurry around to make sure things are elevated and won't get soaked, and also make sure you know where your boots are! We've had water come in the foyer every time, it seeps in under the front door. It takes a little getting used to, for sure.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all !!!!

Snow.Yesterday . .Venice, December 19, 2009

Venice typically doesn't get much snow, and we like it like that! Alot. No more shoveling, and certainly no more driving in winter snow storms for us. We were here on vacation about 4-5 years ago in March when a large snowstorm swooped in overnight dumping about 4 inches on the city. That, we were told then, was the most anyone had seen in 10 years. Well, we've just seen it again. Yesterday, starting early in the morning, a thick heavy snow started falling, and fell for several hours, leaving a lovely 4 inches of snow all over the city.

To make things more interesting, somewhere around 8 am we heard the Aqua Alta sirens.. level 2. That meant we would see between 6-8 inches of water on the streets. I had a few errands to run but didn't give too much thought to the water, thinking most of that would be in the St. Mark's area. It was VERY cold and windy here, and still snowing, so I bundled up, putting on my fleece lined snow boots. My first stop was going to be the pharmacy two canals over, not far from the Carmini church, over in Dorsoduro.

I left the house, and took my normal route to the pharmacy. I turned right, down the street, then left up and over the first bridge... ooops... there's a street full of water, not snow.





I have on snow boots which have zippers for closures. I'm in trouble, water will get in through those zippers. Thinking quickly, I reverse over the bridge and proceed down the street to the next bridge, which brings me to a street that is between two rows of houses, not along a canal. I should be safer here, at least less water. This plan worked nicely, I encountered no water, just snow. Not only was there snow, there was a snowman!!!!



Continuing down this street, I was water-free, until I got to the end ,where it intersects with the Fondamenta. Now I am screwed. There is water, water, water everywhere, in both directions, and I must turn right to reach the pharmacy. I didn't make two steps before I felt a little water seeping through the zipper of my boots. I was hoping the water wouldn't be that high. Hmmmm.. Water 1, Karen 0.



I thought maybe, just maybe, the other side of the street might have less water, and if I could get across there, I could walk to the end of the street, then cross back over to wind up at the pharmacy. I took a quick look across the canal..... no such luck. The water was even higher over on that side. See the woman with the yellow boots? At least she was smart and wore boots made for water, not snow.



I just bit the bullet. I walked down the rest of the street and into the pharmacy, knowing I would just have soaking wet feet. I completed my business after a nice little conversation with the pharmacist, then turned around and walked right back out into the water. And here is where I made mistake number two. Instead of giving up the notion of going anywhere else this morning and just reversing my route and head home, I decided to head to the Rialto, by way of Campo Santa Margharita.


I slogged through even deeper water, crossed over the bridge to the campo in front of the Carmini, and discovered the entire little campo was under water. My feet were completely wet by now, I just kept going. As I made the turn at the side of the church heading into Santa Margharita, I was hit be even higher water. This is unbelievable. If only I had worn my water boots, I would have been dry, but cold. Now I was wet and cold. Not a good combination at all.





I got to the middle of Campo Santa Margharita before I stopped, pulled out my cellulare and called Mike. He had gone out to take photos, most likely headed to St. Mark's Square. Well, well, well. He answered the phone, he was already back at home!!!! He hadn't gotten far out of the neighborhood himself and called it quits. I couldn't even convince him to come back out for a coffee at our favorite caffe. That made my decision for me. I headed home myself, but first stopped for a few minutes to chat with the woman at our favorite fish monger, who was busy selling fish, despite the bitter cold temperatures.



My route home from Campo Santa Margharita is a simple one, and fortunately, it was water-free. All snow the whole way back. As soon as I got in the apartment I pulled off the wet boots, soaking socks, and pants. I turned the boots as inside out as I could, and put them near the radiator. Today the insides are still not dry yet. Maybe tomorrow!

Lesson learned: No matter what, wear the high water boots.

Blog Hiatus

I've received several emails recently asking "What happened to your blog??? and more importantly... how are you doing???" Thanks for jerking me back to attention!!! I've been entirely negligent, allowing everyday life to swallow me up. But.. it's everyday life here that is so important to write about, as each day has been, and continues to be an incredible adventure.

Recent months have found us literally knee deep in some pretty serious knee pain, studying Italian daily, meeting and making new friends, doing alittle bit of "out of Venice" travel and even going solo in Venice for 10 days while Mike did a visit with his family in the US.

So... this is an early New Year's resolution to be more diligent about catching up, and getting back on a regular schedule with my blog-scapades.

Leopold goes to church

This is Leopold. You never can tell what he'll be up to.... here's last nite's fun.....

Last nite, around 9:30, we decided to walk the dogs to our usual spot, Campo Santa Margharita. Most Venetian dogs walk unleashed. We sort of admire that actually, but our two dogs haven't become completely Venetian yet. We do let go of the leash from time to time to see how they'll do. They actually do pretty well. But, by and large, they get hitched up before we open the apartment door. And off we go....

To be honest, Leopold, our Corgi, has done pretty well off-leash, at least there are no streets filled with cars they can run into and get hit. He tends to want to stay right at your heels anyway, not that he is concerned at all about HIM minding you, basically what is going on is that Leo is herding US. That's just what Corgi's do.

Last nite as we walked, Mike and I were noting that it had been awhile since Leo was out loose, and next thing I know Mike bends down to unleash the dog. Leo's doing nicely, I don't pay any more attention. My dog Sam and I begin to get ahead of the others, we are already over the bridge and in front of the church at Carmini. It's 9:30 ish, I see the church doors are open and lights are on, I hear voices coming from it. That's a bit unusual. So Sam and I stop at the doorway for a peek in. There are only a handful of people inside, way up front in the first row of pews, and there is a priest doing what looks like performing a mass of some sort. I'm just looking, when all of a sudden I notice Leopold has entered the church, and is headed down the aisle!!!!!! OH, bedlam is about to ensue!!!

I can't run (arthritis in my knees), and I have Sam on his leash, so I am just about screaming to Mike to run come get Leo out of church. Mike says "What???".

In the mean time Leo has stopped going up the aisle, thank goodness, but is having a good look-see for himself. By this time Mike has arrived at the doorway and is whispering, "Leo, get back over here". Fortunately, Leo is basically a good boy. He just looked back at us, turned his big fat Corgi self around, and trotted himself out the church door.

Thank you, Lord. One big mishap avoided. I can only imagine what that priest would have said if Leo had arrived up at the altar with him.

Surgery, Italian Style

Health care is a global topic this year, and is most certainly on the minds of every American I know. Everytime we meet an American vacationing here in Italy, one of the first questions we are asked is what is the Italian health system like. Since we've just had our first surgical experience in a hospital here, I thought this would be a perfect topic for blogging.



A bit of background info is needed first : My husband Mike was having some abdominal pain, which, after doing some research on WebMd, he self diagnosed as a hernia. He made an appointment with his doctor here in Venice, who confirmed it. The doctor told him the hernia was small, and probably would not be operated on until it got bigger, but, he gave him a referral to a surgeon. The surgeon examined Mike, and decided to operate sooner, rather than later. Since it wasn't life threatening, his surgery was scheduled in July, about 90 days following his first visit to the surgeon. He had several phone calls with the scheduling office at the hospital, everything seemed very efficient.



On the morning of the operation, we left home around 6:15, taking the vaporetto from Piazzale Roma to Ospedale. Mike was to report to Day Surgery at 7:30 am. He had been advised to bring pajamas and clogs with him, and not to eat any breakfast. We arrived a bit early, so we joined a few others already in the waiting room. At 7:30, we queued up outside the nurses office to be checked in. They actually came down the line and called for Mike to come forward. We then discovered he was scheduled to be operated on first that day. Good thing to know.



Following some paper signing, we were shown to a hospital room down the hall which had 3 beds in it. It was large and very clean, and also had a bathroom with a shower. Mike was taken to the bathroom where the nurse shaved an area on his abdomen. Mike was told to take his clothes off, wrap a green sheet around him, and get on the gurney. The nurse covered him with a blanket, and they wheeled him off to the Operating Room.

Here is where I noted a difference between hospitals in the US and in Italy. They did not have hospital gowns, not even disposable ones. You wrap up in a sheet instead. Ok.. I can see that this would save a bit. Hmmm.... Mr. Obama, maybe this would cut a line item out of the health care reform bill.

While the surgery was taking place, I went down into Campo Giovanni e Paolo to Rosa Salva for tea and a brioche. About an hour later I returned to Mike's hospital room to await his return.

Mike was wheeled into his room about an hour later than had been estimated. It turns out he had been given a local anesthesia, but needed something stronger. They knocked him out. His version of this is alot funnier than mine, he retells thinking the room was upside down even. You have to have a little patience with him, he had never been a patient in a hospital before, and this was his first surgery. And, for some unknown reason, he seemed to think it was going to be a party. I had cautioned him that no matter how small the incision might be, it was still abdominal surgery. I thought it was going to sting. I won.

He remained in the hospital room until almost 5pm that day, during which time the nurses came several times to check on him, make sure he could get up and walk about, and get to the bathroom ok. A doctor came in to examine him also, and gave him the final ok to go home. They gave him some pain medication to take with him, and made an appointment for the next Monday morning for a follow-up appointment.

We were incredibly impressed with the care and attention Mike received. Everyone, and I mean everyone, made extra effort to ensure that we understood exactly what we needed to understand. If there was someone who didn't speak English very well, they went and got someone else who did speak better to help them. They didn't have to do any of that, we were the ones who should have been speaking better Italian. In short, we were highly impressed every step of the way.

As for differences... besides the hospital gown, there is one other thing. This cost roughly 75 Euros for the whole thing, including the office visit to the surgeon, the surgery, and the follow up visit. Wow.

Ferragosto!!

Today, August 15, is Ferragosto. It's a national holiday in Italy. Basically what that means is just about everything will be closed, and Italians will be heading to either the beach or the mountains for a long weekend. Ferrogosto is a celebration of the harvest, and also a celebration of the Assumption of Mary into heaven, and dates back to Emperor Augustus. I haven't quite figured out how they mixed a religious holiday with a pagan festival, but, they did.

What we've noticed is that around the first week in August, we start to see signs on shops, caffes and restaurants indicating they are closed for FERIE- holiday. Return dates are somewhere around the last week in August. Looks to me like everyone plans their annual summer vacation to include Ferragosto.

Shops that weren't closed already for the holiday are certainly closed for Ferrogosto. Today Venice seemed empty, at least it was in my neighborhood. We live close to the train station and Piazzale Roma, so we normally see a fair amount of foot traffic coming and going from these areas past our street. Today was particularly quiet. Even the grocery stores were only open half a day. Everyone else must have headed for the Lido.

Happy Ferragosto!

Living the dream -- laundry day!

Laundry here has been one of my biggest adjustments. I'll admit it- I'm a clothes dryer girl. I like my towels warm and fluffy. I really love my blue jeans soft. But-- we have no clothes dryer here. There's no where in the apartment we could even squeeze one in. I have no idea why everyone here in Italy hangs their clothes on the line, but it appears they all love it. I'm sure people could have dryers, but no one does.

I have a love/hate relationship going on with clothes pins. I just can't seem to get through one laundry day without clothes pins falling out of the little bin, falling all over the ground, and even worse, falling off the clothes I've pinned them on. It seems simple enough, but for some stupid reason these pins just don't like me. I am beginning to think it's all because they somehow know I crave a clothes dryer.

More often than not, in the US, I'd leave clothes washing for a weekend day, and get it all done then. A couple of loads of laundry, toss them in the dryer, and bing, bang, boom, laundry is done.
Here, I can't leave the laundry till the end of the week. I'd never get it done. Why? Because my washing machine looks like it's a Barbie washer. It's got teensey tiny capacity, as do all the washers here that I've seen. Besides that, it takes hours for one load to be done. It seems to have a million different cycles, going in one direction, then backwards, then fast, then slow. Who knows what it's doing in there.

This morning, I had to put a load of sheets in. On laundry days, it's critical that first I check the day's weather forecast. It never fails that I will hang out laundry and then it starts to rain. Today things appear to be ok rain-wise. I washed the sheets, walk out the back door to the clothes line, and notice there is a large plastic bag on the porch. That's weird. I picked the bag up, and noticed a note taped to it. The note read " Please can put my yellow towel in. Thanks, Betty B.".

I'm laughing out loud now. This is another classic example of why I love my life here.

Not only is there a bag with a note, but I also notice there is a string hanging down to my doorway from the apartment window two flights up. Now this all makes sense. A few days ago we found a yellow kitchen towel on the ground in our garden. I'd washed it and hung it on the line yesterday. Today, the woman upstairs is asking for her towel returned, with the bag retrieval system!! She knows we don't speak much Italian, bless her soul, she's managed some pretty good Inglese for me!

I folded the clean towel, placed it in the bag, tied it onto the string, and attached my own note inviting them down for wine in the garden so we can get to know each other better!

Gotta love laundry days!! I would never have had this experience back in Baltimore in the basement with my clothes dryer.

The Italian National Health Service and the magic Tessera card

(No, this isn't the next Harry Potter book, although the title is a good one for it, and ... I could have used Harry and his wand on this adventure!!!)


Now that we've gotten completely through the incredible administrative maze which is required in order to obtain your health insurance documents here in Italy, I can sit back and write about that whole adventure. This was ALMOST as daunting as obtaining citizenship. Almost. At least we had some previous experiences to draw on, we were somewhat prepared for another nightmare. I don't know why, I just thought this would be easier. Ha, what was I thinking. I should have known by now.


I checked the phone book to be sure I knew the location of the office I was supposed to go to. This looked easy enough, the office was in the Ospedale (hospital), and I know how to find that. I gathered up all our documents, and off we went. Once inside Ospedale, I had to ask a few people where to go, finally one nice man took us to an office labeled "Communications". Oh well, this didn't seem exactly right, but we're game.


Inside, a woman stopped what she was doing to talk to us. She looked at my documents, and then proceeded to explain to that she didn't think we qualified for the health insurance. Not being able to speak alot of Italian was quite a disadvantage in this situation. Three times I pointed out that my Carta d'Identita says "Italian citizen" written on it. On the third try, she finally got it, at which point she became alot nicer. She printed out a map showing us the place we should have gone to, and also some additional information about the Tessera card. Ah, yes, the Tessera card. That was the end goal-- obtaining the Tessera.





This little baby is like having the gold wrapper of the Wonka bar. Once you have this Tessera card, you are good to go. But, we discovered, nothing is ever easy.


The next day we gathered up our documents once again. It takes a good bit of nerves to deal with these beaurocratic issues, and I have to gear myself up for it. I was ready--we headed off to the office in Dorsoduro where we had been redirected. It appears there are local offices in each health district, depending on where your residence is, and you must handle all of your transactions in the appropriate district. We needed to get to a large building known as Ospedale Giustinian. Once in the building, we found the main reception desk just as you walk in. Here a man pointed us to an office around the corner and down the hall.

We had to take a number, then wait our turn, along with the slew of other Italians on the bench. There are two offices here, one for making Prenotazione (appointments), and the second for all other issues relating to your Tessera. Once our number was called, we went inside to one of the counters and showed our documentation to the girl behind the glass wall. She didn't speak much English, but tried hard. What we got out of her pretty quickly is that she didn't think I qualified for the Italian Health Insurance either. Again, I pointed to the line on my Carta d'Identita that reads "Citizenship = Italian". Ahhhh... finally she got it, and became very nice to us. Bada bing, bada boom, she has typed a bunch of stuff into her computer, and printed out a paper card which she handed to me. She also handed me a copy of the plastic Tessera card I would be receiving in the mail. It's as if I had waved a magic wand over her. I love this Carta d'Identita already. After today I have learned to make sure I point out where it says I am an Italian citizen FIRST. That's the key.

A few minutes later, she did the same process for Mike. After all was said and done, we still had two hurdles yet to handle. A) we needed to return to this same office with the final certificate of residence documents for each of us, and B) Mike needed to bring back his permanent Carta di Soggiorno when he received it. Until that time, we had Tessera's that were only good for 3 months. Alright, at least that's a start.

Two weeks later, our plastic Tessera cards arrived in the mail, and we're feeling pretty good about having gotten this far.

Another mission accomplished, we're in the Italian Health System.

Carcofi (Artichoke) festival on Sant 'Erasmo

We noticed a poster advertising the 3rd annual Carcofi festival on Sant 'Erasmo, and I thought it might be interesting to go see what it was all about. It was on a saturday that we had nothing planned, so I put it on the calendar. I got out the vaporetto schedule, determined we needed to take the # 13 from Fondamenta Nuova to Sant 'Erasmo, and worked out that if we left Piazzale Roma on the # 41, we could switch boats at F. Nuove and get out to Sant' Erasmo around 10 am.

Sant Erasmo is a small island just off Burano. It's all farmland. Vegetables and fruit sold at the Rialto market are all grown here.

We set off from Piazzale Roma and changed boats at Fondamenta Nuova. The boat ride to Sant Erasmo is about 30 minutes, with a short stop at both Murano and Vignolo first. We got off at the Cappannone stop on Sant Erasmo, the first stop on the island. I wish I had taken a picture at the dock. You get off the boat, and you see a small refreshment stand to the left, a row of bicycles, some cars and motorcyles in a small parking lot. In front of you is open land, and a pathway. We didn't rent a bicycle. perhaps next time. We stopped for a drink and snack, and set off walking. We didn't have a map, and we let the other people on the boat take off ahead of us. We just ambled for a bit.

We made the bend in the road, we could see water off to our right, and farmland all to our left. Before long we spotted what we were eager to see.... artichokes!

The artichoke plant took us by surprise, we had never seen anything like it. These are the smaller type, purple in color. They were growing in large patches that seemed almost wild.




I'm posting a few pictures so you can get a little tour with us.

Poppies and other wildflowers were in abundance as we walked along the road. This was a treat, a far cry from what we see day to day in Venice.

There are little canals cutting through the fields and large houses here and there.

I haven't seen one of these since we were in Tuscany a few years ago. This 3 wheeled little truck is called an Ape (which translates to " the bee" , I believe). I want one! You can see how little it is, compared to Mike walking next to it.

Even here on Sant Erasmo there are canals. We didn't have a map, no way of knowing how many canals there are. This one in particular had alot of boat traffic on it, but still it was quiet and idyllic.

This boat is filled with wine jugs coming straight from a vineyard. We love seeing these pull up!

The Fort of Maximillian on Sant'Erasmo

Vendor stalls and exhibits set up for the Carcofi Festival. You could buy fresh artichokes and other vegetables, or sample some freshly cooked.

Figs on the vine.. mmmmmm.

We ended our walk at a little bar at this end of the island, and discovered a lovely beach.

The bar served food and wine, and had great outdoor seating with beachfront view. Can't get more authentic than this! We enjoyed fritto misto, sauteed artichokes (of course), homemade gnocchi and prosecco wine. I'm already planning a little beach getaway one afternoon, now that I have discovered the perfect spot!

After a leisurely lunch, we roamed back to the boat dock for the ride back to Venice. A perfect saturday afternoon.