Montepulciano....Before The Tourists Came

  
     It seems like a switch was flipped in Florence in the past week and summer is all of a sudden here.  It is hot and humid, much like in July in Canada.  Rather than complaining, I am thinking about how wonderful it is going to be to have several months of hot summer like weather, rather than the few short weeks that Canadians get teased with.  It seems like we just get thawed out in Canada, and then once again we are faced with the cold weather and snow.  I do not miss the cold.  

     I think the heat is here to stay as it is no longer cooling down at night.  The duvet is off my bed and packed away in the closet.  My much loved flannel jammies are officially put away.  The neighbours that see me walking Libby in the morning may be glad of that.

     With the heat has come the tourists.  The streets are full of people from all over the world trying to  find their way with their maps in hand.  When I look at them I am reminded of when I first arrived here in Florence.  It is hard to believe that I have been here six months now. While it was love at first sight, it feels like my love affair with Florence is growing the more time that I spend here.  Maybe this is because I have become more comfortable here.  I equate it to the beginning of a wonderful relationship with a man where you love the initial passion, but you also enjoy easing into when you can just be you and still feel the love.  It is interesting because many tourists stop me and ask for directions, or advice about what to see and where to eat.  Perhaps they are picking up on the ease that I feel in this city.  

     While I am loving the warm weather, I am now understanding what the locals mean when they say that they enjoy when the cooler weather comes and they get their city back.  With the crowds one is not able to see things from the same perspective.  Florence, and the surrounding smaller towns, take on a whole other look and feel when it is so busy that it is difficult to make your way through the streets.  With the crowds you miss some of the hidden treasures.

     I am glad that I was able to visit Montepulciano before the crowds took it over.  I was able to see how the italians truly live day to day when their town is theirs.  I was able to experience just what a treasure this small Tuscan town, which is known for wine and Pecorino cheese, is because the beauty was not blocked by the hoards of people.
     I was first introduced to Pecorino cheese in Montepulciano.  It is one of the finest cheeses that you can find here in Italy.  I choose to be in denial that it comes from a sheep, rather than a cow.  I don't know why, but it bothers me that it is from a sheep.   But in the interest of being more open minded I do not let that fact stop me from enjoying it.  The best Pecorino cheese that I have had has been from Montepulciano.  While one can certainly find it in the markets here, it is just not quite the same.  I am not sure why that it.  Perhaps because it is aged differently.  In Montepulciano the finest of the Pecorino cheeses is covered by the ashes of wood.  Yes OCD me who hates dirt actually loves a cheese that is aged in dirt.  If that isn't growth I don't know what is.

     One of the wonderful things about living in Florence is that you can enjoy all that a city has to offer, but you are just a short distance away from a quieter life.  With a short train ride one can take a day and enjoy just slowing down.    Even a city girl like me enjoys the country every once in a while.  As long as I don't have to smell cow manure.    

          

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Sometimes One Just Can't Find The Right Words......

     Now, as I go about my day, I am warmly greeted by shopkeepers and restaurant owners who have become accustomed to seeing Libby and I make our way through the streets of Florence.  At first I was taken back by the italian way.  My experience is that italians exude warmth and I didn't quite know what to make of it when I first arrived.  In Canada I was accustomed to getting from point A to point B as quick as possible with really very little interaction with those that I met along the way.  Can you imagine going into a big chain grocery store in Canada and greeting your vegetable man with a hug and a kiss and taking the time to talk about your week?  Before you even got to the kiss security would be called.  In Canada you get your coffee at the local drive through Tim Hortons.  Here you stop and take the time to enjoy your expresso while you visit with the local cafe owner.  There is no drive through anything here, and I am thinking that is a good thing because it forces social interaction.  Yes it takes twice as long to do errands, but after getting through your list you have a smile on your face and feel happy, rather than aggravated.  Somehow every shopkeeper, or cafe owner, just has a way of making you feel special and always manages to put a smile on your face.  In a world that is full of so much anger and fear it is a shame that more people don't take the time to put a smile on someone's face.  It truly is a gift.  

     I now have my favourite restaurants that I love to go to.  I love these restaurants not so much because of the food, although the food is always amazing, but because of the experience.  Lunch with a friend can take hours because of the social atmosphere that the owner of the restaurant creates.  Some of those owners have now become my friends.  What is not to love about being greeted with a glass of Prosecco and a hug and a kiss.  Oh, how italians love to kiss.  Often we are presented with some treats from the kitchen as gifts.  These are always delightfully yummy.
     My visits to my favourite shops and restaurants are becoming more challenging though.  I am hearing more and more, "Elisabetta, you have been here a long time now.  You must now only speak italian".  Learning italian continues to be a challenge.  I am convinced that as one gets older your brain just does not soak up knowledge like it use to.  I read that middle aged women actually go through what was referred to as "menopausal fog", because of the chemical changes in one's body, and this fog affects your memory.  The good news is I was starting to worry about having early Alzheimer's so I took comfort in learning this; the bad news is I can't believe that I am old enough to be experiencing this menopausal fog.  I think my menopausal fog has taken over the language part of my brain and it is thicker than the fog in San Francisco.  I try though, and my italian friends are  patiently trying to teach me their beautiful language.  I don't think my tongue will ever be able to do that sexy rolling of the letter "R" that italians do with ease, but trying has been the source of much laughter.  It is a good thing that I have good self- esteem and don't mind being the source of this laughter.    

     My italian friends and I try not to let the difference in our language come between us.  I try hard to find the right italian words and they try hard to find the right english words, both trying to adequately to express our thoughts or feelings......sometimes desperately trying.  Of course sometimes neither of us can find the right words; which often leads to laughter.  I am doing a lot of laughing here in Florence.  
     I received a little love note from a friend the other night who owns a restaurant.  Libby was out for dinner with a friend and I and my very handsome restaurant owner friend sent over a gift of a little turkey for Libby to snack on.  I was touched by this little gift, but could not help but break out into laughter when I saw the note.  I was reminded of when a friend of mine in Canada, who was studying french, thought that she would be brave and practice her french.  What happened though is instead of ordering what she intended to order she mistakenly asked for a hooker.  In the case of my love note actions spoke much louder than the words....the very wrong, but terribly funny words.  I was reminded that words are just that....words.....no matter what the language.  Sometimes it is more important to focus on actions, rather than words, because actions are a clearer window to what is really in one's heart.  

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