Bluebells from Scotland in an Italian garden

This evening at some friends' house enjoying a glass of wine and some olives and watching the sun go down over their cherry tree, my glance fell on some bluebells growing beside the path. As you know from my post from last year, or if you're new readers I'll tell you now that most of the world's bluebells grow in Britain and it is very unusual to see them elsewhere.
Our friends explained that the bluebells were brought back from Scotland in 1945. Their father had been a prisoner of war in Scotland and had fallen in love not only with the Scottish lassies but also with the bluebells. He had planted the bluebells and the whole family considered them an heirloom. Each year a member of the family would take a cutting and now everyone had bluebells in their gardens.
What a lovely symbol of hope and friendship.
It filled my heart with such joy and happiness to see bluebells on an April evening in an Italian garden brought from Scotland with love.

Bluebells brought from Scotland in 1945

Watching the sun go down over the cherry orchard

What a lovely cherry tree

Strange habits

It's always a good idea to think about how others see us , to keep us on the straight and narrow . The same thing applies to people and countries . When I first came to Italy so many years ago I was constantly being told horrific stories about England. All that tea we kept drinking , with milk instead of lemon, eating stuff out of tins and bacon and egg for breakfast, wearing shapeless anoraks to town instead of chic tailleurs. Everyone had some story about our strange habits. Everyone knew someone who had had a traumatic experience in England , from being given tinned spaghetti for breakfast to seeing a woman wearing brown shoes with a black bag. There were so many questions to ask me .Why did we make ourselves different by driving on the left? Why had we all got such unelastic brains and couldn't tell that Retress  was actually Rat race .Everyone knew someone who had had an unpleasant experience in England. A bad stomach upset from eating off plates that hadn't been rinsed properly .. Yes well I do remember the advert for Fairy liquid where the foamy bubbles gently slid off the plates while the little girl asked her Mum how come her hands were so soft. Once my parents stayed with us and after hearing  about all the Italian stomach aches caused by English washing up water my Dad wrote out a notice saying - These dishes have all been rinsed by hand, when I saw it I quickly took it down ,it all seemed a serious business, no laughing matter at all. These complaints were made with passion and confusion and made me squirm uncomfortably and try and look apologetic for my country's terrible habits. I had to learn all over again , how to do things properly. Especially how to queue Italian style. Oh how they make fun of us and our queuing abilities. To be able to stand in a line and patiently wait your turn ? What a funny thing to do. I would go to the doctors, the bank, the post office or the local shops and watch people go in front of me without a qualm and have no idea what to do. "I'm next" I'd say , "It's my turn'. Many pairs of eyes would turn to me accusingly.'I don't think so, ' someone would say ,'but if you insist'. Well being British I didn't . I' d go home in tears .'You've got to be more assertive' my husband would say. 'Silly English queuing habits'. A little machine came to my rescue, it could have been invented just for me. You just take a ticket with a number on it and quietly wait for your turn and of course no- one can argue with that.

Take a number to know when it's your turn

A shop's ticket machine 

Passionate about Italian cars

Whenever most men talk about cars their faces light up and they start talking about bumpers and wing mirrors and design and speed with great pasdion. The mere mention of Alfa Romeo, Ferrari or Lamborghini and in their imaginations they are off . Steering cars at a lively pace round mountain passes or hugging the shores of a lake with impressive skill. As long as my car is reliable, doesn't make funny noises and is full of petrol it makes me more than happy. Today I saw a rally of FIAT vintage cars. There were lots of FIAT 500s. Seeing them reminded me  of when I first went to Rome over forty years ago. Then the streets were lined with FIAT 500s , parked all over the place, higgledy piggledy , if someone got blocked in they just gave a good- natured toot of the horn and the owner appeared and removed it with a cheerful wave. It was the only car I remember seeing. Today the owners of all these vintage cars talked about them lovingly and proudly, willingly receiving compliments about the condition of the bodywork and chrome. Lots of the cars were a good ten years or so older than their owners. Everybody seemed to have a story to tell about their adventures in an old FIAT car.

My story makes me sound a bit of a twit , but I'll tell it anyway. When I first came to Italy and my grasp of the language was poor, my mother- in- law was reminiscing about her life during the war. She told me that before the war she had enough money in old lire in her savings account to buy a topolino which means a little mouse. After the war her money had devalued so much she couldn't afford one anymore. Well this a sounded very sweet to me, that she would want a little mouse so badlly. After all I had a yearned for a hamster. Then someone explained that a Topolino was the name of a little car. There was one on display today and the owners treated it like a member of their family. All the time the Italian flag unfurled in the wind above us. These FIAT cars have accompanied Italians faithfully through the years and have been looked after like greatly loved pets as everyone admired them and discussed their loyal nature.

Easter in Italy

Natale con I tuoi, Pasqua con chi  vuoi", Christmas with your family, Easter with whoever you fancy.
So goes the popular Italian saying.
 It makes sense. The Summer holidays are still a long way off and it is an ideal time to re-charge your batteries after the Winter.
 Many a time however, we have set off with a suitcase optimistically packed with light Spring clothes, only to pass the time shivering or wearing an old fleece that was thrown in the car at the last minute.
We do get some warning  of what the weather will be like , because another saying tells us that if it rains on Palm Sunday it will be sunny on Easter Sunday and vice versa. Se no piove su l'olivo , piove sui ovi.
It is lovely to go away at Easter but if you are unable to, there is always the Staycation. This means you stay at home but you make it into a holiday. Leave the washing, get take-aways, go for long walks, invite friends round, go to the cinema. Do it all as though you were a tourist in your town.

One wonderful happy Easter memory I have is of when my Mum came to stay and the children were little. Blockbusters had just opened up.
 Now it is already defunct and it is difficult for anyone under the age of thirty to imagine how different communications were then.
 Blockbusters was a door to a golden, exciting world. I will always be totally indebted and grateful to Blockbusters. There in the corner were videos in English, a very small collection, but we devoured them all, it didn't matter what the film was like. I was starved of hearing my native tongue, maybe I drew the line at The curse of the living dead,.
 My partner came home with a video in English for me and my Mum, it was called Easter parade with Judy Garland. We sat and watched it as a gasping man in a desert who reaches an oasis. What's more the song "Easter bonnet", brought back wonderful memories of my Dad singing it to me when I was little. I had an Easter bonnet, it was a straw boater with a blue ribbon and flowers.

A chocolate Horn of Plenty, Cornucopia di cioccolata

Dont judge a book by its cover

There were nine little dolls inside

You cannot tell by looking at this Russian doll how many there are inside

La felicità dei cani, The Happiness of dogs, nothing to do with dogs really

In Italy I love the way that all the shop assistants are so happy and willing to gift- wrap any purchases .Your thoughtfully acquired pensierini , symbolic gifts, take on a whole new life when they are gift-wrapped Italian style. Almost embarrassingly so. What was just a small token can be transformed into an enticing package full of promise. They become almost too good to open. I have been doing my Easter shopping. In Italy this is not done on a large scale like Christmas shopping.Just a little plant or an egg for the children, a bar of soap or a little book, gift-wrapping can make these small gifts much more festive. It really is the thought that counts .

Yesterday while browsing in a local bookshop my friend and I remarked on how beautiful book jacket designs can be, just looking at the covers makes you want to read all the books.Some of them are real works of art. In English we say not to judge a book by it's cover, you could be in for a lot of disappointment if you do. This saying of course refers to more than just books , it is an invitation to

judgement on anyone or anything  without looking beyond the appearance.

Sayings and proverbs can say a lot about a culture and I like this one. It is relaxing and allows lots of room to like something or someone for many other reasons than physical aspect.

It is difficult to give an Italian equivalent, the nearest I can think of is L'abito non fa il monaco. This means that wearing a monk's habit doesn't make someone a monk.

This plain book jacket is actually a greatly-loved copy of Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. A story of passion and intrigue

Easter gifts wrapped and ready. It is the thought that counts

This fancy decoration covers a quite simple traditional Italian Easter cake.

The beauty around us all, every day

Van Gogh Starry Night -not in the exhibition, but I like it.

Monet Sunset in Venice

This weekend, we went to see an art exhibition with friends. In our English school system we never had History of Art lessons like they do in Italy. School children here from the age of eleven are taught how to appreciate art. It is in their blood. We are more self-taught. My brother and his wife say they wander round art exhibitions asking themselves which painting they would like to have hanging on their wall at home.

Last week we went to see Monuments Men with George Clooney and Matt Damon. The big dilemma running through the film was "are Art works worth a human sacrifice?" I 'll let you watch the film to form your own opinion.

Yesterday, as I listened to the Audio tape, the thing that strikes me again and again, is how artists, just like the poets I love so much, are telling us the same thing. It is in Nature, that is all around us , the earth, wind, fire, water, the skies and the sweeping landscapes, the little bubbling brooks, the beauty of the changing seasons, it is here where our salvation lies. Wherever we live, from Alaska to the desert to the jungle, Nature must be allowed to blossom in our hearts. The challenge to urban developers is to build towns where Nature can happily flourish, and in so doing this will protect the countryside.

Here are a few of the paintings we saw and a poem by Coleridge that I think says in words what the paintings say. These talented artists are able to express through their work, the deep sentiments and yearnings, the joy and wonder that is what we all feel in our hearts.

It may indeed be fantasy when I
Essay to draw from all created things,
Deep, heartfelt, inward joy that closely clings,
And trace in leaves and flowers that round me lie,
Lessons of love and earnest piety,
So let it be,and if the wide world rings,
In mock of this belief, it brings
Not fear, and grief, nor vain perplexity.
So will I build my altar in the fields,
And the blue sky in fretted dome shall be,
And the sweet fragrance that the wild flower yields
Shall be the incense I will yield to Thee
The only God!

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Monet- Poppies

A poem by John Berger in the Italian daily paper, Il Corriere della sera.

When I'm drawing I feel
a little closer to the way birds
Navigate when flying, or to
hares finding shelter if pursued,
or to fish knowing where
to spawn, or trees finding
their way to the light, or bees
constructing their cells

Quando disegno mi sento
un po' vicino al modo
di destreggiarsi degli uccelli
in volo alle lepri che cercano
un nascondino allorchè
si sentono braccate, ai pesci
che sanno dove deporre le uova.
agli albei che si aprono
un Varco verso le luce, o alle api
che costruiscono le loro celle.

Lopping and chopping and pruning

The gardeners and tree choppers are very busy here. There are lots of whirring noises, crashes and thuds along the tree-lined avenues of the town. Friends who have large vegetable plots are early to bed with back ache. There is a lot of pruning and lopping all around. Even I have gingerly snipped off a few twigs and old leaves from my plants on the balcony. I always feel that pruning gives plants a better shape as well as getting rid of dried out and rotten bits. The lopping of the branches gives the trees a surprised look against the spring sky. They look a bit like teenagers who have had their straggly hair cut against their will.

The men on their machines at the top of the trees look very skilled, they must have a good head for heights.

Meals in minutes

 

My husband likes to have fresh salad and seasonal fruit with every meal he has. It is something he grew up with.
We only used to have salad on Sunday evenings with tinned salmon and fruit was either eaten between meals or made into a pudding like Apple crumble or banana split.

I try to always have freshly washed salad in a big tupperware container in the fridge and a full fruit bowl.

Today I saw some lovely mushrooms. There is something about mushrooms fried in butter that is almost magical for me. We used to go mushrooming in the fields behind our house. It had to be early in the morning before the bugs had a chance to eat them, so we didn't do it very often.

Lunch today was mushroom omelette and the ever present salad and fruit. All on the table in 10 minutes start to finish. Almost.
 

Angie's Mushroom Omelette
 

1 box of  champignons mushrooms washed and dried and sliced

2 eggs each beaten with a splash of water

Grated cheese

Salt and pepper to taste

Melt a knob of butter and a small amount of oil in a large omelette pan. Add the mushrooms and cook quite briskly for about 5 minutes. Transfer to a plate. Put another knob of butter in the pan and when sizzling tip in the egg mixture. Using a rubber spatula carefully lift the sides and draw in the egg until cooked underneath. Sprinkle over some grated cheese and the mushrooms. Flip half the omelette over and let cook gently so the cheese melts.

Buon apetito!
 

desert

Things I bought at the craft fair

At the craft fair I bought a note book to write down plans and appointments . This one caught my eye . The bicycle with flowers in the basket reminds me of my mum- you might remember Jacqueline-  and it says in Italian Lunario dei giorni sereni-  something about serene days. As I started to ask the stall holder if I could have it, she stopped me in mid track ." Oh where was I from? Wasnt my Italian good!! But wait !! There was a girl who could speak English, she was studying it at university!!"So there I was engaged in conversation with a very charming young girl , in English , learning alll about her trips to Windsor castle and Harrods. My friends had melted away.Then the ever- embarassing moment - where did I learn my Italian . "Well it's not very good really", I mumbled, " your English is much better," and it was !

In this notebook there are little snippets of poems in very small writing , this one caught my spirit of heralding the Spring, in Italian, by Giovanni Pascoli '1855-1912' to start me on my road to improved fluency. 

C 'e qualcosa di nuovo oggi nel sole,

Anzi d'antico: io vivo d'altrove,

 

E sento che sono intorno nate le viole.I  also bought a note book for some special people I know who are getting married. This allso has quote on each page. The one I liked best was by Oscar Wilde. Happiness is not having what you desire but desiring what you have . Felicità non è avere quello che si desidera ma desiderare quello che si ha .This seemed very appropriate for a husband and wife.

Craft fairs and crafty ideas

My friends and I went to a Craft Fair yesterday. We were quite overwhelmed by the variety and high quality of the goods on display. There were  huge wall tapestries of the Eiffel Tower ,New York and St Marks Square, replicas of old masters, all made by hand using oddments of material. There were stands demonstrating how to crochet, knit, make jewellery, cakes,home improvements, handbags. Something for everyone to try.I have always admired people's creative talents and amazed by the variety of ideas. We are all brimming with ideas , we just need to be able to express them. If you tell a class of children to draw a picture or write a story , they will all do something different. Many of the stands at the Craft Fair had notices up saying. No foto but one man had Si foto and I liked that. We need to be inspired by each other. My daughter had just been telling me about an artist who said there are plenty of ideas to go round, no-one needs to be afraid of someone copying them. Picasso said that a good artist copies but a great artist steals. I think it is good for everyone to pass on their ideas and talents, to copy out a favourite recipe or recommend a nice place to visit or a good film or book. The Craft Fair of course was about making things. No- one was in danger of me copying their masterpieces, photos or no photos, I can hardly mend a sock . One area where there was no notice forbidding photos was the creative cake stand. These were incredible, more like sculptures than cakes. We  all merrily clicked away, I warmed to the people who had created these cakes and were willing to share them with us . I ' m sure I won't be copying them .

 

To market, to market

To market, to market
To buy a fat pig
Home again, home again,
Jiggedy jig.

To market , to market
To buy a fat hog,
Home again, home again,
jiggedy jog.

Markets are alive and kicking here in Italy. Once a  week, there is a big market held in the nicest parts of the historic centres of Italian towns. When I first came to live here there would be crowds of old men from the countryside, chattering among themselves in the local dialect, putting the world to rights. You would catch snippets of their conversation as you walked by. La xe cussì, "that's the way it is". Se stava mejo quando che se stava pezo, "we were better off when we were worse off". Now you are more likely to see groups of women from Eastern Europe who work as badante ("carer") and who are joyfully chatting to each other in their own language, or family groups with mothers dressed in flowing robes. There is always a happy, busy atmosphere. Some of us eagerly looking for bargains and hopefully spotting a friend among the crowds so you can say those lovely words, prendiamo un caffè insieme?("shall we have a coffee together?"). Then you can retreat into the nearest bar and admire each others purchases.
My route to the market takes me over a bridge, and the water level of the river beneath can dramaticaaly rise if it rains heavily. We all stand looking into the fast flowing water, staring down into the murky depths and hope it doesn't rise any further. Other times the water level will drop very low, sandbanks will appear and the ducks congregate there to enjoy the sun. On the bridge I will often meet people I know who are on their way home, clutching beautiful plants for their balconies or a roast chicken for lunch. Today I bought a mimosa, it's delicate yellow flowers reminded me that it will soon be Il giorno della donna, "Women's day". It is on the 8th March and it is traditional to give women a sprig of mimosa.
I asked the stall holder if she thought I would be able to cut some from my new plant. "Oh no" she said "keep it for yourself."

Sunny Sicily, friendly faces, fantastic food

Everyone I know that has visited Sicily comes away with two overwhelming impressions. The  kindness of the Sicilians and the amazing food.  Food is treated with passion and respect. It is a land blessed with lots of great local produce. Some of my favourite Sicilian dishes are arancini, cassata and cannoli. They all seem a  bit difficult to make and  the desserts especially rely on top quality ingredients hard to find outside Sicily. I think you need to have a Sicilian mamma or nonna At this time of year, when the almond trees are already in bloom on the Sicilian hillsides, the artichokes in our local shops all come from  Sicily every day. The greengrocer sits in the shop preparing them. He cuts away the dark outer leaves and puts them in a big bowl of water and lemon juice . It is a great help to find them there ready prepared.

Here is my recipe for Sicilian artichoke and pasta minestrone. It brings some Sicilian sunshine to our table on a February evening. 

Minestrone Siciliana con pasta e carciofi

Serves 4

1 onion finely chopped

3 sticks of celery finely chopped

6 sprigs of parsley chopped

500 g passataor pomodori pelati 

3 artichokes , each one sliced in quarters

100g short pasta

Salt and pepper to taste

Grated pecorino cheese

Gently saute the onion and celery in 2 tbsp olive oil until soft and translucent. Add the tomato passata and simmer for ten minutes. Add the prepared artichokes and then pour over 6 cups of cold water. Bring to the boil and then simmer gently for a few minutes.add the pasta and cook for about 15 minutes until pasta is tender but firm. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Add some of the grated cheese and serve the rest separately.

Everyone out for lunch, tutti insieme in trattoria, coccole and cuddles

 In our local paper, there was a photo of a couple celebrating their sixtieth wedding anniversary. They were asked what had made their marriage so happy. Their reply was lovely, "Lots of cuddles and then everyone out for lunch on Sunday". I really liked that. It conjured up a picture of everyone working hard and busy all week, maybe hardly time to speak, but every Sunday there was a chance to reaffirm their love and care for each other. I have always loved Sunday lunch, it is easy to make it a special meal, either at home or taking everyone out for a treat. There is time for conversation, for everyone to show their support for each other and to have some fun together.

In Italy it is always a special occasion to go to a trattoria on a Sunday. There is always a great atmosphere, lots of family groups and couples, the buzz of conversation and no-one has to do the washing up. Any tensions gathered during the week can disappear. The latest news can be discussed and everything can be put back in perspective in the warm atmosphere of a pub or restaurant.

Around the walls there are often plates depicting local dishes or witty sayings, like the one in the photo. In the one we went to today there were all the months of the year, I chose February, with a drawing of a cockerel. Many of the sayings are in the local dialect and to do with food and love.

a tola no se vien veci ("you don't get old sitting at the dining table")

amore e tosse no se sconde ("love and cough cannot be hidden")

maio piovoso, vin costoso ("rainy May, expensive wine")

amore vecio no fa ruzene ("old love doesn't grow rusty")

chi magna salata fa vita beata ("who eats salad, has a blessed life")

Just to link up the "Lots of cuddles" part of the answer, to being happily together, here is a wonderful recipe for chocolate mousse, guaranteed to perk up any simple meal of soup or a sandwich. So if you don't go out for lunch, this will make it a special Sunday.

Chocolate Mousse 

170g dark chocolate

3 tsp. strong coffee

2 eggs, separate the yolks from the white and beat each in a different bowl

half a cup of thick cream

1 tsp. favourite liqueur

                                    Melt the chocolate and coffee together over a low heat. Add the beaten egg yolk and continue cooking gently for 2 minutes. Remove from the heat, when cool add the beaten egg whites, cream and liqueur. Spoon into two bowls and refrigerate until firm. Decorate as you please with nuts or cream.

This is just right for two to share... And enjoy ..

Italian contrasts

On a Winter day in an Italian town, you can easily look up and see a sight like this

Bright buildings set against a cobalt blue sky. These stark contrasts seem ever present in Italy.

The Summers are boiling hot, the towns are deserted. In the blinding heat, electricity supplies strain under the weight of the air-conditioners. The Winters can be bitterly cold, but still sunny and bright. It used to be a common sight to see many chic women wearing fur coats and sunglasses. Now that there is more awareness of animal  rights, there seem to be less, and let's face it, a warm place to go to is never far away.

Italy seems to have everything. Cities containing  eighty per cent of the world's art treasures. Spectacular  mountains full of dynamic ski resorts, beaches as fine as any in the Caribbean with soft, white sand and safe shallow water. Beautiful lakes offering scuba diving equal to the Red Sea, wind-surfing, para gliding, mountain climbing. Rivers and streams, soft, rolling hills dotted with olive groves and lines of cypress trees.

That may sound like a travel brochure, and I could go on and on, but I can't think of another country where in such a relatively small area there is such a vast amount of natural beauty.

When we were on our way back from our Arabba adventure, we stopped to eat Canerdeli in a German- speaking part of Italy. I thought about how varied Italy is, what different worlds lie to the north and south. Between Austria and Africa, lies Italy.

At the top canerdeli, at the bottom, cannoli alla Siciliana, that would be a great meal.

This card arrived from my cousin. On the back she wrote that it shows all the places we love. Looking at Britain and Italy on this card, if you took away the Channel, they look united by a diagonal line.

It might seem completely unrelated, but this map has reminded me of a book of rhyming history that I've got, and always makes me smile.

This is how it starts-

Celts and Saxons 55Bc-AD 927

To start this Rhyming History,

I've chosen 55BC.

The Romans, who had got their hands

On all the European lands,

Could see this last annoying bit,

And thought they had to conquer it.

Their famous Caesar, Julius,

Did not know what to make of us -

He couldn't work out who was who,

Since everyone was painted blue,

He took some souvenirs away,

Went home, and said, 'E tu,Brute?'

From A Rhyming History of Britain, by James Muirden