Beauty-full

Beauty.
  

What is beauty?

Beauty is, as they say, is in the eye of the beholder--but it's so much more than that. I am always seeing the beauty in everything I see, whether it be something really beautiful or something that most people don't even notice. And it's the noticing that we need to do more of. Nature is the most awe inspiring motivation for me. Since I was little, my walks down the street were always interrupted by the beauty of a flower, a caterpillar hidden behind a leaf, the way a weed can grow in the tiniest crack in the cement, or the big solid feeling a tree gives below it's burly branches. Still to this day, I notice these little things and I notice the absolute beauty that surrounds me where I live. 

Elderflower Delights

Late May to Early June brings the bounty of elderflower blossoms. Here in Liguria, edler trees abound and a drive through the countryside will leave you with a landscape of these cream colored bursts of flowers.

  

Their aroma is nearly intoxicating and the mere sight of these delicate, adorable white blossoms, bunched together to create a perfumed umbrella is one of the loveliest sights of Spring.

Wild Asparagus!

I am a huge fan/supporter of harvesting wild food. You can see my Wild Caper and Chestnut posts as proof. Food just tastes better when it grows wild and going for a hike or hunt to find it makes it an fun adventure. Last year, when reading about Kate Little's adventures in the woods above Levanto to find wild asparagus, I was delighted at the idea of finding asparagus and determined to discover these skinny, hidden jewels myself.

Come March, during a celebration of our friends' bar opening (see Bar dell'Amore) in the Cinque Terre, a friend from Riomaggiore told me that he was making asparagus risotto from a bunch of wild asparagus he gathered that morning. I got excited and asked him where I could find some, to which he told me that it grows all over the hills of the Cinque Terre and I could even find it above the bar.  Fortunately, another friend from Vernazza pointed out that all of the Cinque Terre is a protected reserve and I could get a huge fine for taking any kind of plant. After much discussion about what could be said to the cops and how I could pretend to be a tourist that didn't know any better, I decided it was best to just look for it elsewhere!

Clear Skies A-Head

  

Today I needed to clear my head and get a little fresh air. So off I went, into the hills surrounding the city. I headed down the busy road, past buses and trucks, until slowly, bit by bit, the traffic lessened and the incline increased. Within no time, I was peering over the rooftops, onto the Gulfo dei Poeti, or Golf of Poets.

Ah, I was already thinking more clearly...
But still not satisfied, I continued up and around the winding mountain road, each step leaving my worries further behind until all that was left was my curiosity to see what I would discover.

Travelers: The Cinque Terre is Open

As we head towards the spring season, many are wondering if the Cinque Terre is open, if the hikes are hikeable and if it's even worth keeping the Cinque Terre in their travel plans. The answer is an overwhelming YES!!!

Before going into details, here is an overview: The trains are running on normal, regular schedules with stops to all five villages without interruption or access controls. Riomaggiore, Manarola and Corniglia had little to no damage from the floods and all shops, restaurants and hotels/rooms are open for business.

Ligurian Picnic

My husband is not a picnic guy--it's not that he doesn't like picnics, it's just that he never thinks it's a good idea. But the other day, he came into the kitchen and suggested we go into the hills for a picnic to watch the sunset. Wow! I was not about to pass that up! Luckily, I had already made some roasted eggplant hummus and roasted vegetable tabbouleh for dinner, which was all easily portable food. So I packed everything up into containers, grabbed some blankets, a bottle of wine and we were off!

We drove a bit to find the right spot, sometimes driving in circles on the little narrow road to the Cinque Terre. But after much deliberation, we found the perfect spot with smooth concrete walls to sit on, use as a table and drink in some stunning views of the Mediterranean sea and the mountains around Riomaggiore. It was down a private road for residents only, but we figured that was to keep the tourists out. We were a little worried that someone might have a problem with us setting up our picnic on their 'private' wall, and the residents that passed us did have something to say--"che bell'idea, buona cena!" which means, "what a good idea, have a good dinner!"
I love the Italians.

Lavender!

  

I love lavender. I love to look at it, smell it, grow it, eat it and use the essential oil for all sorts of things. It is a wonder plant. Now that it is officially summer, it is also lavender season! And there is nothing quite like seeing fields of lavender growing under the hot sun. Unfortunately, those glorious lavender fields are only found in France. But, lavender thrives in all warm climates, including here.

Last night around 11, after a chat with family about the new roundabout landscaping of lavender, my husband took me for a “drive”. Even though he likes to be mysterious, I know him well and I knew he was taking me to the next city over to go snip some of this new lavender under the cover of darkness. As we were getting on the freeway, which is also the direction to Genoa and ultimately France, he tells me that if I really wanted, he could just keep going and we could get to Provence, get some lavender and make it back in time for him to work in the morning. Hmm, a tempting offer, and as I entertain the thought, I decide it would be a much nicer evening to make it to bed before dawn. Oh, how times have changed. I guess this is what it’s like to be an adult—comfort and logic over adventure.

Oggi al Mare!

Today the sun was shining and there wasn’t a hint of rain in the sky. There was only one thing to do—hit the beach! I text messaged my sister-in-law to get ready because today we were finally going to get some sun. Unfortunately, living in a port city means that there are no actual beaches to lay out on. But no worries, this is the Riviera and there are plenty of beaches to be had. 

Polar Bear Pride

Norwegians have a thing for Polar bears--especially northern Norwegians. I was recently going through some picture albums and came across a few pics I snapped of some of the MANY stuffed polar bears that are scattered all around the small city of Tromsø. (If you've never heard of Tromsø, check out my mini-video: Live From Tromsø, Norway!) Polar bears are not only a part of their history, but also part of their identity and pride.

Tromsø is known for many things, including the land of the midnight sun, having the northern-most university in Europe, called "the Paris of the north" (I completely disagree with that one), the most joked about by locals is being a city where polar bears roam the streets. While this was true a very long time ago, it has of course become old lore. It is still true for some of the northern-most islands of Norway, and I have actually met a few people from islands where polar bear sightings are common (and they're very proud of this). But the only polar bears you'll see in Tromsø are stuffed.

Norway Is Big Sky Country

Before coming to Norway, when I thought of the most beautiful sunsets I have seen, I would think of three or four that stuck in memory. But now, being amazed by breathtaking sunsets and generally amazing skies (even at night) is so common to me that I have lost count.

During a recent conversation with a Tromsø local, I was discussing how incredible it was to have such amazing sunsets as a normal, common occurrence. To my amazement, it was explained to me that these are not just common, but predictable by season. Apparently, during the late summer months, when the sunsets start happening again, they paint the sky with bright pinks and magenta. Fall brings warm, golden sunsets like fire and the winter brings pale pastel pinks as a soft backdrop to the bright white snow. And it is true! I have been in Norway from August to the end of November and I certainly have seen the sunsets change with the season. When I first arrived, the sun was not setting until around 3am--which was really more of a twilight than a full on sunset.

Chestnuts Everywhere!

As my last post showed, autumn brings with it some of my favorite foods. In Italy, October starts the season of one my fall favorites—le castagne (chestnuts). So, after another Sunday lunch, bellies full and nothing to do…my husband suggested we go up into the hills above La Spezia and pick some fresh chestnuts. Now, if you have learned from my earlier stories, nothing entices me more than the combination of food and adventure! Plus, I had never seen chestnut trees before--it was a very exciting proposition.

Autumn in Italy

After spending a good deal of time in northern Norway, my return to the splendors of Italy was certainly welcome. But this time, instead of returning to Sicily, I returned to La Spezia, in northern Italy, about an hour east of Genoa and an hour west of Pisa. Markets in Italy are always seasonal, so what you see is what is best. It is fall now, and that brings with it some of my favorite foods. Fresh pumpkin, mushrooms, grapes, apples, chestnuts...these are the fruits of fall.

My first day brought me to the daily vegetable market. Oh, what splendor...

As the old adage says: 

"A picture speaks a thousand words"

Amazing Norway!

Nothing makes traveling more fun than exploring the area and the adventures it brings. This day’s exploration was a drive south of Tromsø, on mainland Norway (Tromsø is an island).  The adventure was where we were going to find food. We didn’t pack anything to eat, assured that we would come across some small restaurant or local diner for some traditional Norwegian food. Not the brightest of ideas, but I digress...

Anyway, we left Krokelvdalen, where my parents are living and headed south. Oh, we also didn’t have a map, so that adds to the adventure quotient, right? After fifteen minutes along the coast, we take a turn up a small street to explore a neighborhood.  It turned out to be a dead end, but we see the first of many little springs that shoot out from the rocks along the road. Waterfalls were everywhere, from full on waterfalls cascading down from snow-topped peaks to little springs trickling all over the place.

It's Summer!

Today I am writing from the shores of the Mediterranean sea. That's right, I'm at the beach and I can officially announce the start of the Summer season. It has been a pretty chilly year so far and it has left the locals slightly confused. Normally, by the time July rolls around, everyone here is sporting a nice shade of molasses on their skin. But this year, it just hasn't been hot up until the last couple days. And even now it's thankfully not as hot as it usually is. Although this chilling affect made my winter a total nightmare, I am now loving it. We are half-way through summer and we haven't been awakened at five in the morning gasping for air and covered in a layer of sweat. We still get awakened at five, but it's from the neighbor's relentless  rooster! But my husband, Leo and I have been plotting it's demise...stay tuned for that one.

Anyway, back to the beach. Leo and I like to come to this fairly remote spot just outside the city. It's nice and calm and the shore has a long shelf, knee deep for at least 50 feet.  It is also a little more wild and natural than the other beaches and the only trash is what the sea spits out. The other beaches in the city are always packed with people, cars, noise and trash. Trash is a hugely terrible problem here. Well, I think it's hugely terrible. Others don't seem to mind going to a beach filled with plastic bottles, broken shards of glass, plastic bags and mounds of cigarette butts. Sure, they notice and they complain about it, but they are also the ones making the trash. It's yet another Sicilian dichotomy.

When people here go to the beach, they set up shop for the whole day, bringing picnic tables and chairs, big umbrellas and tons of food. The beach staple is pasta al forno, or baked pasta, in a huge pan to feed twice as many people as they have. Then there are secondary dishes like shrimp, salad, watermelon and then all the chips and sweets for the kids. Can you imagine how much trash that generates? They bring everything but the kitchen sink and it's a wonder how they fit it all. Sometimes when we see people unloading their car, we wonder if they'll start pulling couches and TVs out of their little sub-compact cars!

The two of us, however, prefer simplicity. A quiet spot, a couple of sarongs, a little cooler bag with some water and a good book (or journal in this case). When we first came to the beach together, years ago, we would take long walks with a garbage bag and clean up as much trash as we could. But now, we don't have to deal with it--we have to drive 25 minutes to get here, but it's so worth it.

Today is a fantastic day--a bright hot sun, a constant cool breeze and the sound of the sea gently lapping on the shore.

Che meraviglia.

A River Runs Through Me

This comes from a collection of writings I did while at University in Wisconsin.
These are "Tales From the Tundra, circa 2000:

During my last semester of college, I needed to fill two missing PE credits. So I registered for a weekend fly-fishing course that took place out in the woods of central Wisconsin, and in the Wisconsin River.

  

I was excited! Fly-fishing had appealed to me for several years. I have always known it to be one of those pastimes that requires a significant amount of devotion in both time and energy to be good.

Growing up, I went fishing with my father fairly often (by a city-girl’s standards), but always with the classic fishing pole.

Okay, so I have to admit, most of my knowledge and romance with fly-fishing came from watching Brad Pitt in “A River Runs Through It”. I still remember those scenes because they were so gorgeous--the scenery, I mean. Anyway, just the idea of being out in the middle of a river so stunningly beautiful, alone with only yourself and your thoughts is very romantic. But those majestic images of a serene river at the base of the gigantic Montana mountains were quite different than the experience I was about to have.

On the first evening, we had classroom time were we learned the mechanics of the rod and tying the different knots. I enjoyed the discussion about fly-fishing: the history of it, the tradition of it and how it can become a way of life for some people. I also learned how much scientific information fly-fishermen have in their head. These guys learn all the different larvae, invertebrates and other bugs and memorize them not only by size, shape and classification, but also by the hatching season. It blew me away. The fact that they know what time of year each insect is out, and which fish prefer which type is very impressive. I’m sure all that information makes catching fish more successful. Personally, I think it's a bit extreme, and so much technical information takes away from the visceral experience.

Yeah, well, actually standing in the middle of a frigid river with swamper overalls up to my chest wasn't really the visceral experience I was expecting.

Unfortunately, it was early March, the water had just thawed and it was raining. Did I mention I don't handle cold very well? It was utterly miserable. I really wish we had nice weather that weekend, as I might actually have enjoyed myself.

I did love being out in nature and learning the proper techniques like keeping my wrist straight and “watching my back cast”. But by Sunday, I was so cold and wet and my silly plastic pancho was not keeping me dry.  I had finally had enough of being a good sport. It is hard to stay positive when after several hours, the only thing I caught was a head cold. But that's just as well, because I'm not interested in tricking fish into biting a sharp, metal hook only to rip it out their mouth and throw them back in. I'm sorry--I don't care how much we were told it's the humane way to fish--I don't agree. Therefore, I was not really wanting to catch anything, anyway.

All suffering aside, I do have to admit, there was one brief moment when I experienced that thing--that moment of complete Zen. There was a point when the wind died down, I was watching the movement of the water and hearing it ripple around the rocks...as I cast my line, it made that little thwip sound and it flew out so smoothly and glided down, as if in slow motion, right to the spot I was aiming for. It was as if in that very moment everyone else disappeared and I felt so present and focused on what I was doing. It was fantastic--that serene moment I had romanticized for so long (minus Brad Pitt, of course). But, shortly after it started, my serene moment was rudely interrupted by the chattering of my teeth and pieces of my wet hair slapping me in the face. So much for my moment of zen.
  

Overall, I did have a great experience. Fly-fishing didn't sweep me off my feet, but I can understand the attraction. I know that I would love it for the peace and tranquility of being enveloped by nature, hearing nothing but the sound of the water rushing past me and the birds singing in the trees...

But for that matter, I could just randomly stand in the middle of a river without the fishing pole.

Do you have any fly-fishing stories?