Island in the Air

Magic.

Civita di Bagnoregio

There are many beautiful villages in Italy. Tuscany boasts her share of wonderment. Liguria is a seaside visual feast. The Maremma is rustic and wild, a place where time seems to have been frozen. But last week, I read of a place I’d not heard of before. Immediately we were intrigued: Civita di Bagnoregio.

I love the unique, the special, the quirky. I’m in constant search of those moments that create memories. As I read about Civita, I felt sure that it was one of those “chosen” places.

The leaning tower

Tucked into a corner where Toscana, Umbria and Lazio hold hands is this lovely, little, magical place. You know in Italy, sometimes unforeseen circumstances cause things to shift rather dramatically. Everybody knows about the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Faulty foundation. There was no choice other than to try and “correct” the problem by modifying as they built. Voila! The famous Leaning Tower.

Brunelleschi's dome

Brunelleschi lost the competition to cast the bronze doors of the Florence Baptistry to Ghiberti. The result? He turned his attention from sculpture to architecture—creating one of the largest free-standing domes in the world. Magnificent! Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? If the foundation had been stable in Pisa, the city would be “just another Italian city.” If Brunelleschi had won the door competition, the world-famous Duomo of Florence might have been “just another Italian cathedral.” But something happened in those strange circumstances that resulted in magic. This is also true with the village of Civita di Bagnoregio.

Only by foot

Founded by the Etruscans around 2500 years ago, Civita was a thriving sister city to Bagnoregio, both snugly tucked into the northeastern corner of Lazio (the province of Rome). In the 16th century Civita slowly lost its power, relinquishing favor to nearby Bagnoregio. Then, in the 17th century, Fate dealt Civita a decisive blow. The town was shaken by an incredible earthquake, which destroyed much of the connecting land. Then, erosion over the centuries ate away at the remaining ground until the village has become something of an island. In fact, it’s now reachable only by foot across a narrow bridge.

Where Toscana, Umbria and Lazio hold hands

So we were on our way. We crossed town and picked up the A1 at Firenze Sud. After about an hour we passed Arezzo. We saw the exits for Assisi and Perugia but continued south. As we skirted Umbria and entered Lazio, we knew we were close. With the aid of a map and gps, near Orvieto, we drove between the train tracks and the freeway into the countryside. Within minutes we found Bagnoregio. It was a lovely town. Very typical, which means narrow one-way streets lined with shops. At the end of town we parked the car and walked toward what seemed to be the end of the earth.

Delivery of the day

From a vantage point jutting out into a deep valley, we looked through an iron gate to see Civita isolated and perched atop the distant cliffs. We followed the road and began the long walk across the footbridge. A small Ape truck passed us—probably bringing supplies to the few remaining inhabitants. Its engine faltered and strained to make the last few meters up the steep incline.

Day in the life

We wandered through the village streets, each one a picture postcard. The town was quiet, settling in for winter no doubt. At the end of November, the seasons were beginning to shift, autumn relinquishing its tentative grip. There were several cats, huddled together in the shade, or lounging in sunny patches. Folks were friendly. Each time we commented about how beautiful the town was, someone responded with “Si, si, questa città e veramente bellisima. Yes, yes, this city is truly beautiful.”

The devastating earthquake claimed the land that surrounded Civita, leaving it a village balanced atop an island precipice. But that misfortune created the Civita we know today. As sad as the circumstances were, the resulting beauty of the village is remarkable. It’s something like seeing angels dancing on the head of a pin.

Texture and detail everywhere

Breathtaking! We each snapped about 150 pictures. We took distant photos. Detail shots. Since everything is built from tufa, volcanic stone, the textures were absolutely fascinating. However, the one picture that you won’t be able to see is the one in my mind’s eye—my first impression of Civita. Fantasy-like. It seems as though you have no choice but to visit Civita to see for yourself. Then, you’ll press your own unique first impression into memory.

Following is a short video we made to capture just a hint of the magic at this special place.

You may also enjoy visiting our other websites:

Never Sleep – Original Music

The Journey – The Ride of a Lifetime

Under the Tuscan Thumb Blog by C & E

Uncommon Promise Story, Music and Art

New Music – Virtual CD

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In Touch In Tuscany

A tisket, a tasket . . . an olive basket

November is right around the corner and that means one thing in Italy: the olive harvest.

It won't be long!

We have just fewer than 20 trees, so that makes it an all day job for the 2 of us to pick them clean. Our friend, Giacomo, brought us baskets last year that we could tie around our waists so our hands remained free to pick away. But borrowing baskets from him means that we have to wait until they’re available. You might ask, “So what’s so hard about that?” Well, nothing really, except when the olives are deemed ready, there’s a flurry to pick them as quickly as possible, press them immediately and enjoy the oil—preferably within the same day, but surely within the same week. So we concluded that we needed our own baskets for fast action. Traditional baskets. Simple. Should be readily available, right? Think again.

Better than nothing

We like to buy local when we can, so we went to our neighborhood mesticheria, hardware store, where we asked, “Avete cesti per cogliere le olive? Do you have baskets for picking olives? “Si! Certo! Yes! Sure!” And they did. Just not the kind that you tie around your waist. They had large, small and medium sized baskets—all with handles. A handle means that you lose the use of one picking hand and you really can’t afford the time. Last year, Giacomo called and said, “Ora, now!” and we picked between rain showers. No, a handled basket just wouldn’t do. Don’t you have simple baskets that tie around the waist?” The answer surprised us. “No! L’uomo che le fatto e morto. No, the man who made them died. C’e nessuno altro. There’s no one else.” In a country bound by tradition, this was a sad state of affairs. We considered our options.

Well, Borgo San Lorenzo is a more rural town, we thought so let’s try there. We drove the 30 minutes north and went into a mesticheria called Guidotti. They had nothing, but the clerk phoned her friend in nearby Vicchio. Nothing there either. Hmmm. We went around the corner to the legnaia, woodshed and asked. They had baskets but not what we were looking for. We asked for suggestions. They had none.

The real McCoy

Ah, what about an antique shop? We might find a couple of oldies there. So the next morning, we headed in the opposite direction to one of our favorites. He had two. They weren’t for sale. What? How can you have merchandise in an antique shop that isn’t for sale. He explained that antique dealers often rent items to each other. It helps them change the look of their shop without really having to add inventory. So the two baskets were there, rented from a buddy, to create more atmosphere. And he told us that the baskets that we were looking for have a proper name, gerle (pronounced jer-lay). Okay, we finally knew what we were looking for by name, but we still didn’t know where to find them.

But . . . we can be very determined. We bought a couple of handled baskets, just to be on the safe side and then reconsidered our remaining options. We had already planned to be in Florence on Monday, so we’d snoop around.

Damiano outside his shop

We went into a sweet “little” mesticheria. Of course they didn’t have gerle, so we finally got smart. There were two older gentlemen immersed in conversation together. Let’s evaluate: 2 old locals, in a classic old hardware store. If ANYBODY would know, they would. So we excused our interruption, “Scusate, Signori. Conoscete se c’e un negozio che vendere gerle? Excuse us. Do you know if there is a shop that sells gerle?” As is so typical in Italy, they immediately stopped their conversation and told us to follow them. The four of us stepped outside the door and the fellow in the plaid wool cap began gesturing and pointing. He told us that there’s a shop, just around the corner that sells canestri, baskets. It seemed too easy.

All kinds of baskets

So we walked a few meters and there on the right, we could see baskets hanging in a shop window. The place was packed with all types of baskets. “Ma avete gerle? But do you have gerle?” we asked. “Si, ma solo uno. Yes, but only one.” Hmmm. Our new friend Damiano explained that the gerle were hard to come by since he only knew one man in the mountains near Pisa who still weaves them. And, the elderly gentleman refuses to deliver them into Florence, so Damiano occasionally takes his truck into the countryside to retrieve the one or two he’s finished weaving. On that Monday, Damiano had only one.

Success at last!

But, he also had a camouflage fabric covered one, that he said was especially good for putting on bicycle handlebars for shopping, since it was covered. “Ma loro sono uguale, But they are the same, right?” “Si, sono uguale. Yes, they’re the same.” So we paid 10 extra euro for the protective covering and took our 2 precious gerle home. I removed the camouflage covering and wove a strap under the bottom of the basket to make it almost exactly like the other.

Green gold

So, perseverance pays off! Now, as soon as the rain stops and Giacomo calls, we’re definitely ready. I can almost taste the new green oil as I write this story. Sweet and spicy. Fresh and peppery. Green gold. Ahh, Italia!

You may also enjoy visiting our other websites:

The Journey – The Ride of a Lifetime

Under the Tuscan Thumb Blog by C & E

Uncommon Promise Story, Music and Art

New Music—Virtual CD

Uncommon Promise Video Channel

In Touch in Tuscany

Vespa Festa

What’s all the buzz about?

Truly a classic

In Italy, there are quite a few classic designs as you know: a red Ferrari, Ferragamo shoes, a Venetian gondola, a Gucci bag, an Armani suit, Bulgari watches and more. Yet in the midst of these high priced items, there are other classics. More “ordinary” and utilitarian. Like the ever-popular Vespa motor-scooter.

That unmistakable name

That’s right, the Vespa. Everyone knows its classic lines: the cursive underlined name, starting low on the left and ending a bit higher on the right-hand side; the prominent flared leg fenders; the flat foot board; Italy-inspired colors, like Espresso and Portofino Green. But in addition to the very recognizable look of the Vespa, another obvious feature is the sound. Supposedly, when the original design was unveiled in 1946 to owner Enrico Piaggio, he exclaimed, “Sembra una vespa! It seems like a wasp!” In that moment, the shape, combined with its familiar buzz gave the Vespa its famous name.

Piazza Mino

A few weeks ago we were passing through the town of Fiesole. We often go that way since it sits right smack dab on the main road to everywhere for us. Once through the first Piazza Garibaldi, we dropped into Piazza Mino, where the narrow town widens a bit. That’s where activities usually take place, and that Sunday morning was no exception.

Stopover in Fiesole

As we rolled into Mino, we were greeted with a burst of color. There, lining 2 sides of the piazza were dozens of classic Vespas. They were every color imaginable, parked in row after row. Beautiful! I had read that there were Vespa Clubs, even by 1952 the clubs boasted over 50,000 members. Today there are over 50 clubs in as many countries. Wow! Who would have ever thought that little scooter could inspire such loyalty and enthusiasm.

Take a spin in the side car

I got out of the car to snap a few quick pictures, because for us the bikes are sculpture. The riders were decked out in their best road-worthy duds, all looking quite spiffy and more than willing to be photographed. There were bikes with side cars. There were bikes with custom paint jobs. There were vintage models. Apparently, we were face-to-face with nothing less than a Vespa Festa! It seemed that all 20 regions of Italy were represented. Each club had its own sticker to indicate where that particular bike called home. We were fascinated. So we explored further.

Lucca fire truck

In a fit of spontaneity, we drove to the nearby town of Pontedera, which is about 10 km outside of Pisa and just off the FI-PI-LI (another Italian classic, the Firenze-Pisa-Livorno superstrada). There on a blustery Friday afternoon we visited the Museo Piaggio—home of the Vespa. We saw bikes and trucks of all kinds that the Piaggio Company had designed and put on the road over the decades. One of my favorites was a fire truck from Lucca. It looks like something that you’d see in a Marx Brothers movie. The “cab” of the truck is the classic Ape (pronounced ah-pay), which is really just a boxy cab built around a scooter. Rather than a steering wheel, they actually have handle bars.

"Workhorse" Ape

Because the Ape is really a Vespa dressed in truck clothing, it only has 3 wheels. They’ve actually kept the scooter design on the front and then added a little, and I do mean little truck bed. However, it was the perfect design solution that put Italy back to work and on the road to recovery after the war. They needed ways to easily get back into the tiny towns to rebuild them. Ape translates to bee, and they were definitely post-war busy bees in their miniature trucks—and still are!

Sounds like fun?

Do you notice that there seems to be a buzzing insect theme here? But it really all comes down to just one thing. Italians love a classic vehicle—whether it’s a Ferrari, an Ape, or a Vespa. And that’s what all the buzz is about.

You may also enjoy visiting our other websites:

The Journey – The Ride of a Lifetime

Under the Tuscan Thumb Blog by C & E

Uncommon Promise Story, Music and Art

New Music—Virtual CD

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In Touch in Tuscany

Vested Interest

Have you ever flown on one of those “discount” airlines? Well we have, and they come complete with some pretty interesting experiences. You could even say that I’ve made some discoveries and few decisions based on those curious first-hand accounts. In fact, I made a recent purchase as a result of what I’ve learned.

First of all, the “discount” price is for the cost of the seat only (which, by the way, does NOT recline). There’s a charge to book online, which seems to be the only way to purchase a ticket. Catch 22?. Of course, no luggage is permitted beyond the carry-on, unless you’re willing to pay an outrageous additional fee.

When we flew with some friends a couple of years ago, none of us wanted to pay for extra luggage, of course, so we each carefully packed a small carry-on suitcase. No problem, right? Well, not for us, but when we weighed their luggage at our house just before leaving, it was slightly over the limit. What to do? Nothing. They concluded that surely the airline would be okay with only a couple of pounds over the limit. Right?

Wrong! When we got to the airport, signs clearly said that the airline would NOT accept ANY overage whatsoever. That presented a bit of a problem, so they got creative. They happened to be wearing vests, so they proceeded to fill every pocket with the heaviest items from their carry-on. A camera here, a GPS device there, the cell phone in that little flap, the travel guide book barely fit, wedged in on top of 10 other things in that side pocket. Perfect. Pretty soon they looked like Weebles. You know,” Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down.” Neither of them could have touched their toes if they had to, because they were so tightly stuffed with gear.

The Vest "map"

I thought to myself . . . those street market vests are just NOT made to handle such a load. So I began my search for a vest that COULD accommodate specific things, yet not look too bulky. I found what looked like the perfect thing. It’s called a Scottevest. It’s named for the company founder, Scott Jordan. Unfortunately, the price reflected the unique design. I was looking for a solution, not a long term in-“vest”-ment. So I shopped around on-line and found that one of my favorite travel-wear sites was offering the same vest at a much lower price. Perfect. I ordered one.

iPod pocket~if only I owned an iPod

When it arrived, I was thoroughly entertained by its cleverness and design details. The female version has 22 pockets—all designed to be streamlined. And, the best part is that the vest is designed for technology—all the stuff you want to keep close anyway. Well, that is, if you have those things. For example, there’s an iPod pocket. I don’t have an iPod. It has a Kindle pocket. I don’t have a Kindle. It has a channel to feed your iPod earphone ear pod cords through so that they come out at the back of your neck—no tangles. But, as I just said, I don’t have an iPod. The vest also has little magnets in the hand pockets, so that you can close them easily and quickly. Why? I don’t know. It’s also equipped with an elastic loop inside one of the many pockets to hold a water bottle upright. Great, just what I needed!

The most curious thing is that large pocket across the back where . . . and I am NOT kidding, you can put your iPad. Not iPod mind you. A tablet computer! An entire iPad. I might not look puffy, but I could appear a little stiff, like I just slipped a stop sign down my collar into the back of my blouse.

The X-ray of contents

Mr. Jordan has a pretty slick website, where he shows everything that HE puts into his vest. There’s even a simulation of an X-ray showing the contents of the pockets. How cool is that? They consider the vest to be the equivalent of another carry-on, without being a carry-on. The idea is that you can simply wear your vest right up to security in any airport, remove it “fully loaded,” and place it in one of those plastic trays for X-ray scanning, and you’re through. Yessireee, pretty stylish AND practical.

Chamois on a bungee

Even though I’ll have to make new pocket assignments to fit my own needs, I’ll undoubtedly be very cool wearing my new storage vest. I can see it now: I’ll pause slightly at security, removing the little bungee-attached chamois cloth which is neatly concealed inside the secret lining seam on the right side; I’ll wipe my sunglasses with a slight air of superiority; then magically slide them into their specially designed hidden pocket beneath the lapel; and then, after the attention-getting activities are finished, I’ll step confidently towards the TSA. Of course, as they always do, the agent (who has been appropriately impressed) will give me the familiar head-nod gesture to remove my vest and place it on the conveyor belt, just as I expected.

Then, I will wait and watch. Watch in amazement as the X-ray technician identifies each and every item. And as I step through the body scanner, I’ll glance at the security agent with a smug, knowing smile. All eyes will be on me, admiring my amazing organizational skills and preparedness. Then, as my vest clears the X-ray machine, the agent will ask, “Is this yours?” “Yes,” I will say, pleased that he had noticed. But rather than an approving smile . . . he will frown.

“Would you mind stepping over here to empty the pockets of your vest? All 22 of them!”

A humorous link: Cheap Flights

Link to Scottevest (You’ve got to see the X-ray and Mr. Jordan’s presentation)

You may also enjoy visiting our other websites:

The Journey – The Ride of a Lifetime

Under the Tuscan Thumb Blog by C & E

Uncommon Promise Story, Music and Art

New Music—Virtual CD

Uncommon Promise Video Channel

In Touch in Tuscany

A Sign of the Times

This way to the castle

Question: Since when did traffic signs become entertainment? Answer: When the inventive Italians started imagining different possibilities. For example, what’s so funny about a white “T” with a red top that means “no outlet?” Or, how about a curved line indicating a wide swing to the right. Or a straight white arrow pointing the way? You’re probably thinking there’s nothing here to chuckle about, but that’s just not so. After all, we are in the land where an enormous ancient stone castle can be reduced down into a cute little international symbol that everybody understands. For starters, let’s take a closer look at the segnale stradale di nonno, grandaddy of roadsigns.

Careful, careful, careful!

The exclamation point says it all! No matter what the circumstances, it always means the same thing—PAY ATTENTION! SOMETHING IMPORTANT IS GOING ON HERE! The problem could be anything—no white lines, crumbling shoulder, tree in the road, you name it. Keep it simple! Just stick an exclamation point there.  HEY, HEY, WATCH OUT!!  Apparently, they have an entire warehouse (probably in Rome) full of those useful little roadside logos, and they’re authorized to proudly display them as often and for as long as needed. In other words, FOREVER! High water in the winter? Nothing would say that more eloquently than an exclamation point. Slap a simple wavy water sign below and Voila! You’ve been warned. Sure, it’s August now and there’s no hint of rain for months, but why take down the sign? Why ever take down any of the signs? It’s a really inexpensive solution to just about every transportation issue or problem.

Right curve ahead

Signs are so compelling that they’ve actually become interactive. Apparently, a new order of artists with a strange sense of humor are doing their own enhancements. How? When? We don’t know. But we’ve started “collecting” the creatively altered signs by snapping a pic or two as we pass by. Some are sweet, like the right curve sign that’s posted as we drive through Borgunto. Okay, everybody can tell there’s a curve in the road—duh. But wait! Did we see a clever modification to that sign. Slow down for a closer look. Sure enough.

Mr. Top-Hat picking a VERY LARGE flower

Someone has used the shape of the arrow to represent a human body. A circle’s been added for a head and then, believe it or not, a top hat has been placed on the head. Must have come from some formal event. But what’s he doing? Taking a second look, we see that he’s picking a flower. And inside the center of the flower is a tiny heart. What??!! How funny is that? Some well-meaning street artist decided to lighten the driving mood by making this unnecessarily serious sign more whimsical.

Straight Arrow Angel

Then there are the angel signs. Frequently you’ll see those single white arrows on a blue background indicating that you should continue straight ahead. No curves, angles or intersections. No nothing (as Italians might say, never fearing the dreaded double negative). Simple. But upon closer inspection, there’s a white circle “head” added to the arrow, which makes the points of the arrow look like wings. Then, floating above the head is a delicate little halo. Really. This sign seems to be something of a theme, since we’ve seen them in various places in and around the city. They’re always exactly the same, as though some “angel kit” has been distributed to a group of do-gooders to develop this new meta-signage throughout Tuscany.

Guardian Angel

What a sweet idea. Any motorist’s blood pressure would surely drop 20 points, just by gazing upon a straight arrow angel. They’ve become the guardians of the roadways, and believe me, Italian roadways can use all the heavenly intervention they can get. Seeing these signs makes me think of Dan Brown’s novel, Angels and Demons. Angels are on the signs and demons are behind the steering wheels. Just kidding. Italians are among the best drivers in the world. They really are.

Oops! Dead-end

But there’s more. Last week we came upon a somewhat disturbing detour to the airport. No big deal, the route was clearly marked until we took an impromptu shortcut. We imagined that a quick left turn would take us back to the main road, beyond the construction zone. We passed through an intersection and I glanced up to see the familiar white “T” with the red top. Oops! Dead end. The only alternative was to back up to the nearest block where we could turn around.

Did I say cross roads?

As we backed into the main intersection, I looked up at the dead-end sign again and noticed that something was different. I tilted my head, ever so slightly toward the right and recognized the stylized silhouette that had been applied to the sign. It was the unmistakable image of the crucifixion. Baffling. Strange. And disturbing.

Give me the angel sign, or that formal guy picking a flower. Or where is that castle? I’ve come to expect amusement on the road. Driving is serious enough without being jarred by provocative images. If I want heavy, I’ll watch the news. If I want serious, I’ll read the headlines. Driving should be a light-hearted tour through the Tuscan countryside, right? And it often is. That is, until you try to pass an old Fiat Cinquecento that’s straddling the center line on a blind curve, where you encounter an oncoming motorino; a garbage truck parked at a dangerous angle next to the curb; a rusted turquoise ape (a barely roadworthy golf-cart truck) struggling to make it up the hill; and a senior citizen crossing the road, looking down, with his hand outstretched to stop traffic. Then suddenly,  it’s not quite so amusing! Classic, maybe! Just not quite so entertaining.

You may also enjoy visiting our other websites:

The Journey – The Ride of a Lifetime

Under the Tuscan Thumb Blog by C & E

Uncommon Promise Story, Music and Art

New Music—Virtual CD

Uncommon Promise Video Channel

In Touch in Tuscany

Net Worth

A Tuscan window and the view beyond

Ah . . . zanzare, mosquitoes! As you may remember from an earlier post, I AM mosquito food. I saw the chart, and I’m all of their food groups combined into the tastiest, zestiest, most complete form of nutrition possible for the little buzzers. But I will not go gentle into that good night (Nod to Dylan Thomas), and we have absolutely no intention of ever covering beautiful Tuscan windows with screens!

After a visit to the US this summer, I returned with a classic mosquito net. This little contraption is to be suspended over the bed, edges tucked in to secure closure and voila! A guaranteed blissful, stingless night’s sleep. Sound too good to be true? We’ll see.

How strange

Upon arriving back in mosquito-land, I unpackaged the net, which was held within an 8.5 X 11 inch thin plastic bag . . . including the hoop. Uh oh, I thought to myself. How can this be “full size” and big enough to safely enclose 2 people? But I suspended judgment as I slid my finger under the flap. 2 pieces dropped to the floor: a billowing flow of ecru color net and a hoop with a diameter of about 6-8 inches. What? I took up precious packing space to include this cheesy little experimental device in my suitcase? Upon viewing the minimalism of it all, I was beginning to feel a bit foolish and disappointed with my decision. It was then that I caught a glimpse of the two pieces of nearly invisible scotch tape around the hoop. I snipped the first piece of tape and nothing happened. NOTHING! I then snipped the second piece and something quite magical occurred. Suddenly, the hoop sprang from my hand and became the diameter of a small hula hoop. I’m not kidding! Miraculously, the small packable hoop lept to my rescue, becoming the key element that I had banked on to save my skin. With a new diameter of nearly 3 feet, I felt an emerging sense of personal satisfaction and possibility. Hmmm. How EXACTLY does this thing work? I was curious.

Perilous proposition

I climbed onto the bed with my small ladder and stood teetering in the center of the mattress that should never be stood upon—right where the net would hang. My simulation was a bit lacking. With a little encouragement, Em assumed the role of a slightly safer net-height-simulator. He’s 6’5″ so we got a pretty good idea about the distance that the hoop should be suspended above the bed.

Necessary stuff

Next? Well, obviously we’d have to install the cup hook (included in my nifty purchase) somewhere in the vaulted clay tile ceiling, which obviously presented a bit of a challenge. Then I remembered. We had bought lenza, fishing line for some patio furniture repairs, so we had the ideal, invisible, high strength solution for dropping the net to exactly 6’5″ above the bed. I was really pleased with the way things were going.

I found a spare key-ring and tied one end of the nylon line in two square knots which I learned how to do when I was a young girl scout. Okay, I was a Brownie. Em installed the hook into a wood ceiling beam—a slight compromise from dead center. He then looped the key ring over the hook. We tied the other end to the ring on the top of the net and the intricate installation was just about complete.

Our new friend Casper

Perfetto, perfect! The mosquito net hung like Casper the friendly ghost hovering above the bed. We spread out the net and entered the no mosquito zone to conduct a “test run.” Seemed good. Had possibility. We admired our work with unspoken self-congratulations and went about our normal routines. Every so often, we’d casually walk by our installation and smile approvingly.

The finished installation

Around midnight, we climbed into our filmy bedroom tent and slid spare pillows into strategic locations to minimize net marks on our faces in the morning. The ad-hoc technique worked like a charm. We felt like kids, camping in the backyard on a clear summer night. A cool breeze wafted through the open windows, which is the way it should be in a Tuscan farmhouse. There was nothing between us and the great outdoors to restrict our morning ritual of leaning out the window to admire the view and take in our first breath of fresh country air.

Ha ha—foiled again!

At 6 am, I awoke to a familiar buzzzzz. Oh, no! I thought to myself, still dazed from my deep sleep. THEY’RE back. And they’re here for only one reason: to sting me in as many new places as possible. I had momentarily forgotten about our new hanging invention and my heart sank with dread. Then my eyes opened, and immediately I saw the recently installed no-fly-zone. AND a nasty little mosquito! He was clingling to the outside of the net trying desperately to get at me. BUT he couldn’t! He buzzed and circled. He dove and searched. He looked for possible entry points finding nothing. No matter how hard he tried, he could not breach the new security barrier. I smiled at him. Okay, it was more of a smirk. I drifted back to sleep with the sweet “white noise” of a mosquito buzzing a safe distance from my ears—a sound I never imagined I would enjoy so much!

You may also enjoy visiting our other websites:

The Journey – The Ride of a Lifetime

The UP Side Lowdown by Cheryl

Uncommon Promise Story, Music and Art

New Music—Virtual CD

Uncommon Promise Video Channel

In Touch in Tuscany

Fiasco

One Fiasco After Another

In Italian, there are few words that begin with FL. Instead words begin with FI, such as Firenze. In English this morphs into Florence, because apparently somewhere along the translation line, someone mistook FI for FL. Perhaps the dot was too close. Could have been as simple as that. But at any rate, this is true. Fiore = flower. When you think of the FI words, it’s pretty easy to jump to FL. Another example is fiasco. Let’s see . . . what could that mean? Hmmm. How about flask. Yep. That’s it. But why? Here’s the “logic.”

Naked and Wobbly

A fiasco was the name of the bottle that typically was mouth-blown glass and in olden times, the glass blowers couldn’t make a smooth, stable bottom. It was called a fiasco because it was wobbly, unstable. The only way to keep it standing upright was to put it in some container. So the bottles were set into a basket and then secured with additional weaving. Hence, the original stereotypical and very romantic bottle in a basket idea. The original meaning was never lost, so those bottles retained their wobbly persona.

All Dressed Up

Today in Italy, the bottles can still be found in various sizes wrapped in a woven basket that is either substantial or delicate, depending on the need. The bottle has no “legs” of its own and so is totally dependent upon the support of the wicker.

In English, probably very few people know the origin of the fiasco. They just know that a flask is now an “upscale” bottle from which to personally drink liquor. The only other flask that I’m aware of is found in chemistry classes, but they usually accompany a beaker and some test tubes, which is a different topic altogether. The personal beverage flask seems to have lost its connection with its roots. It’s only a bottle, usually a squashed shape, easily held in one hand. Sometimes it’s encased in leather. How far is that from its humble beginnings?

How Did We Get Here?

Consider the modern definition of a fiasco—something that’s a mess, or out of control. Something unstable. Huh?? Sounds familiar, right? Wobbly. Unstable. Unable to stand without external support. Maybe drinking from a flask results in behavior that can only be described as a fiasco.

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