I just returned from the most wonderful experience I have had in Italy yet. Frequent guests here, and close friends, now, of Cri and Gianni, Luca and his son Pietro have been staying here for the last few days, with Pietro’s neghbor and close friend, Francesco (and the most amazing dog ever, Nelson, who is chiller than any college student I ever met). We’ve been eating with them, talking and such, Luca is lookking at purchasing an INCREDIBLE sopot of land in Sicily, an absolutely magical place, on a small mountain, with ruins of an olive-house from 800-900 CE. On one side, you can see the southern point of Sicily, where the Mediterranean meets the Tyrrhenian. Gorgeous, terraced hillside with spaces for Olive trees. On one side, two seas, on the other, Etna in the distance. And all around gorgeous canyons, rivers, and sprawling trees.

Anyway, today, Luca decided to take a trip. Luca’s boat, a 60+ year old fishing boat, heavy wood, gorgeous, with a beautiful diesel motor inside, was waiting at a small marina by Bocca Magra. I was working all morning, then Cri just ran over and said, “Luca’s going on the barca!” I imagined the “Barca” we had taken two weeks ago, to Punto Corvo, a big, beasty thing just used to cart around tourists. But we took his Land Rover (stopping on the way for wood-fire-baked Foccaccia) to this small marina in long, narrow bay opening to the sea, and voila. There she was. We also took Nelson, the buddhist dog, with. As we pulled away from the shore, shoes left on the dock, the white marble mountains outside of Carrarra, the Northern Appenines (really close to where they meet the Italian Alps), sat staunchly on our left, sun shining bright. Beautiful grey-white mountains in the distance, and slightly in front and on all sides, tree-covered Ligurian mountains, dark, rich green framing the marbled magnificence perfectly. Clouds swirled a little around the tops, the mountains disappearing into the distance, as far to the East as we could see. All of this while rocking back and forth, feeling sea-tears on my face, licking the salt off my lips, and swaying in a rich blue-green ocean. Turn around, off the right side of the boat, and there was the rocky shore of Bocca Magra and Punto Bianco. Striped white rock, flowing lines like an old, enormous tree trunk, waves covering some of the rockfalls in foam. And then the small beach with a few caves. We left the boat, jumped in the sea with Nelson, and swam to shore for a half-hour or so. And I just stood there, letting the water push my legs and bare feet further into the pebbly beach, looking out over the waves, seeing the fading mountaintops… I didn’t think Italy was going to be like this. Most beautiful thing I have ever seen…

 

On the return voyage, there were more clouds, playfully skirting the marble mountains, leaving the forested foothills (in comparison) in the foreground. But glimpses of peaks, of marble catching the sunlight, shone through the cloud cover. No breeze, wind at our backs so with the movement of the boat it felt like we were not moving at all. Talking with13-yr old Peppo about his trips to London, Paris, Portugal, and Germany… I had a smile on my face the entire time. I cried as we approached the shore again, mountains coming further into view. Sunglasses hid the tears out of propriety. I was glad I had this experience almost without pictures, just a couple on my phone as we headed back to the vehicle. Oh, and we stopped at a dock, Peppo and I ran and got crepes filled with Nutella. SOOOO good.

 

It is now a dream of mine to someday own a small craft, like Luca’s, and to share with someone (my children, my wife, my dog, my best friend) the experience of freely, calmly gliding in a sea, with ancient, story-filled mountains and forests, scattered clay-roofed hill-towns, and water blue and profound.

 

I have to say, today matches in beauty my cinque terra adventure, of which I have yet to tell. That will be my next attempt, unless something quite incredible happens I feel I must share. Allora, for now, a doppo!

 

Amore e veritá,

NP

*breathes…*

Just finished up cleaning the kitchen after another creazy dinner. Yesterday and Today we had guests, served 20+ at lunch and dinner, and prepared beds for most of those. I guess, though, I should start closer to the beginning.

After a 9-day sojourn in Roma, Siena, Firenze, and San Ginigniano (some of which was breathtaking, some of which was earth-shattering…), I arrived at the first of my three farming experiences in Italy. This one, Il Borgo Della Colomba, is about 7 km from the town of Sarzana, which is about a 20-minute train ride from La Spezia, an industrial city in Liguria near the Tuscan border. Il Borgo is situated about 2/3 the way up a mountain, a small one, in the area where the Alps meet the Appenines. I arrived via train from Firenze (on which I met a realtor from Sardignia who offered me a place to stay should I visit this summer…), and was picked up by a middle-aged communist, who left me with the vehicle (smelling of donkey crap) to buy cigarettes, and then we drove. And I was breathless again. Mountain driving in Italy is gorgeous. Like gorgeous vine/olive-covered Tuscan countryside, only at a 30+ degree angle.

And then we got to the farm. Simple, been added to for years. Now is quite sprawling, 25 beds for guests, a few for WWOOF’ers, and a house for Gianni and Cristina. Animals, a dumb dog named Nanna, 8 donkeys (2 babies), some chickens (little devils…), geese, mosquitos, and 2 cats. Fellow WWOOF’ers Julien from France (departed 3 or 4 days ago…) and Hansel from Germany (40-something, anti-fascist, moody, scares the bejeezus out of me… and I have to sleep with him now…).

Typical day starts at 7 am, with 4-5 hours of work in the garden, cleaning the pool, general cleaning of house/paths, tending the various herbs, fixing fences, tilling olive trees, planting or pruning tomatoes, etc… Then lunch, usually something simle but incredible, like fresh-fruit tossed with white wine, an apple-cake and hand-made ravioli, always fresh. Then a rest, until 5 or so, then a few more hours of work, then dinner, then sleep or movie or book. That is, during the week. Usually there’s a day and an afternoon off during the week, where we go do something, or fare un giro, or something (cinque terra one week, the beach another…). On weekends, we usually have tourists. Usually a few that are friends of Giani and Cri, but also groups, or couples, or random hikers tracing the ancient road to Parma which goes through the middle of the farm. That is when the fun starts, and the rests stop. Cooking/praparing tables, beds, cleaning up, providing 3 meals for 20-40 people, things get hectic. But its always fun.

Gianni and Cri are communists. Which means the friends they have over are all characters. Dante is my fave so far. Middle-aged, maybe a little past, shite hair, and a ferocious, beautiful full white beard. Jolly, round, and loud. Comes over and debates the corruption of Italy’s various democratic options, debates the success of the communist party in Italy and elsewhere, and debates the best way to rig an irrigation system for a new terrace of olive trees.

I will post again later, on my adventures in the cinque terra with Julien. This place astounds me. So much beauty, so much story here. I am becoming less of a tourist. That was one thing that bothered me about my travelling before the farm. Watching the life, but not being a part of it. I met a guitarrist in San Gimigniano who recomended a few vias where there were no tourists but the most beautiful views. That is the kind of thing that gets me. Walking under cypress trees next to a 700-year old stone wall, with a view of 20+ km of tuscan countryside…

 

More on that later. Night for now folks.

Alright. I am going to give this blog a shot. Forgive, it will probably be raw, pretty unpolished, and ramble quite a bit. But bear with me, if you want. Sleepy time now, but more to come. Enjoy the picture. It was one of my favorites.

 

NP