The front of Castelvecchio, literally, old castle, which was built by the Scaligieris, ruling family of Verona. 

Giuletta's "famous" albeit carefully constructed balcony... 

Romeo's medieval style house which most likely did belong to the Montague family. There was no Romeo Montague, but still.  

Yet another new Skype "friend"

"I'm calling you from Bulgaria. Please call me...any time you want. Preferably in the evening. Thank you." That's the latest message on my Skype voicemail from Alexi Alexov. Random!!

More on Italy to follow a bit later on this evening.

Arrivo

I almost dread starting this post, as I have so much to say, I don't know where to start, and I'm sure I'll rattle on long past when I should end. I've decided not to write the first paragraph in Italian, though I'm sure that would be a good challenge for me - however, my grammar might end up being shockingly awful to Jenn, so I will refrain. Allora, ragazzi...

I will try to intersperse this with pictures, which will probably mean I'll have to republish these entries a couple of times since the pics have to be posted separately, so bear with me. There are several themes here...food (naturally), wine (of course), my rediscovery of conversational Italian idiosyncrasies, my adventures with small town Italian life, and our misadventures with Italian public transit.

I caught my flight to Verona Catullo airport on Thursday afternoon with no complications, and arrived to a very warm, still very light out Italian evening around 8:30pm. Rita (Jenn's mother) and Rita's cousin Pippo (short for Filippo) were waiting for me. We drove first along the autostrada and then turned off into smaller towns that lead to Rita's small town of Brognoligo, and I dreamily watched the hillsides terraced with vines and olive trees and old old building and churches slide by. And I particularly like in the town of Monteforte where we have to drive right up in front of the church, and pass where there is barely enough room over cobblestoned street between the church and what serves as town hall/tourism office/enoteca and probably more. I happily made myself at home in Rita and Morris' restored old farmhouse, picture to follow, and we decided to make our way to the train station the following morning. Meanwhile, Rita got out some cheese and crusty Italian bread, as well as a bottle of Pippo's homemade vino dolce (which is a bit frizzante), and I obligingly made my way through most of it myself, for as soon as we discovered it was sweet, Rita didn't really want to have more than a small glass. And guess what, no hangover.

To summarize a couple of things, I more than made use of my time in a gastronomic sense, with many of my personal favorites, including gnocchi, homemade risotto, tender beef with a gravy-like accompaniment made only in the Verona region called peara, homemade salami, fresh, hot panini, fresh bread, Italian pizza with homemade oglio picante, gelato, amaretti, and cherries picked from the side of the road. I was unfortunately one weekend ahead of the Brognoligo cherry festival which is happening this coming weekend (I saw everything being set up in the small town center as I left). I had homemade grappa, homemade limoncino, homemade vino di tavolo, homemade prosecco, homemade vino dolce. I bought jewelry and sandals, 6 boxes of panne (traditionally used in cream-bases sauces in Italy), bags of amaretti to bring to my coworkers, and 10 bottles of locally made wine to bring back. I even drank the requisite cappuccino. While waiting for the bus to Verona on Saturday, Rita asked me if I wanted a cappuccino "or something" and I said yes, as I'm always able to find something else to drink, but Rita temporarily forgot I don't drink coffee and immediately ordered "due cappuccini". I dumped two packets of sugar substitute into mine, and managed to somewhat enjoy it. I had to, for when in Italy...

The Florys farmhouse. The half you see starting on the left hand side of the picture belongs to an older woman named Teresa. When you ask how she is, she always says something like, Oh, not so good, I don't feel well, I feel bad, etc. So it was very funny when on my third day there she said something to the effect of, better than yesterday. 

The view from the front of the Florys farmhouse, on a very sunny, but slightly hazy day. 

The Grande Canal with some gondoliers...it was very funny to see them in the smaller canals, as they were clogged with gondoliers just trying to get by one another with their passengers...not at all like the romanticized movie idea of romantic boat ride in Venice.

Venezia

On Friday, Rita and I set out for the train station in San Bonafacio, and arrived in time to find out the train for Venezia would be arriving soon. The guy selling the biglietti basically lied and told us it was the intercity, so we paid more money to take the direct train. As it turned out, it was il treno regionale, so we stopped at every little station along the way, and it took us two hours to get to Venezia. However, when we got there, I was so excited, I couldn't believe I was finally in Venice with the sun shining! (When we lived in Italy, my family went during the winter, when I went back to Italy two years ago with my friend Pete, we were there for Carnivale at the end of February, but it was gray and raining the whole time.) And then...oh for shame, and then I had to stop and buy a memory card at three times what it should cost, because when I went to erase old pictures on the train to make room for the new, I realized I'd brought my camera without a memory card in it- DOH! Some highlights in Venice included the Ponte Rialto (which a lot of people think is the Bridge of Sighs), the Ponte Sospiri (which actually is the Bridge of Sighs, so romanticized by Lord Byron because it connected the Palazzo Ducale to the prison, and prisoners who were to be executed or serve a life term would heave great sighs or take their last breaths of freedom as they crossed this bridge), Basilica di San Marco, and the traffic on the canals.

I had two servings of gelato in my favorite flavor, pistacchio (pronounced peestakkio in Italian with a hard c), and took a picture so as not to forget the sight of gloriously mounded, creamy, melt in your mouth, oh so much better than ice cream, small bowl or cone of heaven.

And I was reaquainted with one of my favorite Italian phrases..."sempre dritto." At the end of our day, as Rita and I tried to find our way through the maze of small, windy Venetian streets back to the train station, we got lost. We stopped several times to ask for help, and the inevitable answer was a right and then a left (or a left and then a right) and from there on "sempre dritto" although you need to imagine the first syllable of the first word drawn out in what you might almost call an Italian drawl. Seeeeeeemmmmmmpre dritto. Meaning, always straight. If you ask an Italian anywhere for directions, his answer will always include at some point, and often more than once, that you have to go sempre dritto. I even remember hearing about this in our crash Italian course before my family moved there for two years. The funny part being, you can't sempre dritto in Venezia. There are no cars, so the streets are tiny and twisty, and intersect and interconnect in impossible ways. You could only sempre dritto if you were a crow. But eventually, we did find the train station. And discovered it was three hours until the train we needed, and once we were finally on that train, Rita had my heart stopped for a minute as we pulled out from the station, the conductor made an announcement, and Rita told me we'd gotten onto the wrong train. I didn't see how that was possible, and it turned out we were on the right one. But traveling with Jenn's mom, as I was just beginning to discover, is always an adventure.

I will leave the rest for tomorrow, as there is so much to write about, but for now, here are a few more pictures from Venezia. Ciao tutti!

The Basilica di San Marco, in the famous Piazza San Marco. 

A very Italian scene from somewhere in the middle of Venezia...apartments with colorful flowers again sun-bleached building above, ristorante below. 

Ponte Rialto, sometimes mistaken for the Bridge of Sighs, as this is one of the most famous images of Venezia. 

Ponte Sospiri, unfortunately half hidden my head...the actual Bridge of Sighs, though a more literal translation would be the Bridge of Last Breath. 

Gelato, molto molto buono!! 

Oh yeah, I did drop a ton of money on training for an OT assessment tool back in November!

Had a little blast from the not too far away past when I arrived back in Harrow Road...only about 15 minutes ago in fact. By the time I got off my flight around 10:40pm, got through passport control, collected my luggage, caught the Gatwick Express train from the airport to Victoria station, caught the Underground from there to Stratford, and caught the 257 bus (boy did I feel lucky as I thought it had already stopped running for the night- it drops me off two blocks from my house), it was already going on 1am.

Anyway, I have lots to tell about my long weekend, but that will have to wait for when I'm capable of coherent thought...for right now, a mini celebration, in that (da-da-da!) I am now a calibrated AMPS administrator! Had an email waiting for me, and I just had to share the news. I'll start in with stories and pictures tomorrow after work. Ciao ciao.

Brognoligo, here I come!

I spent a good hour earlier this evening making homemade chocolate chip cookies, Dad-style, y-ummmm! Tomorrow we are celebrating the birthday of one of my co-workers, Annette, and I will bring some to Rita as well.

Tomorrow is the day! I return to Italy. This time it's only been two years since I've been back, so I count that as an improvement over 11 years!! I literally cannot wait, I am so excited! I can't believe it's finally here. Jenn's dad will be away on business in China, but her mom and her mom's cousin Pippo will be at the airport tomorrow night at 8:30pm to pick me up! I am going to eat my heart out...

So there won't be any updates again until Monday, although if I am really tired, it may not be until Tuesday. But I promise I will have pics, and stories. And lots of lots of Italian wine :)

In the meantime, I wish all of you a glorious Memorial Day Weekend...I wish I could BBQ with you all, I hope you have better weather than we have been having, and for those of you in Vermont..."Helloooooo, the lake!" I'll be with you in a month! Make me a list of chores that don't end up getting done this weekend! All my love, Allison.

Typical

I got an email from my manager today regarding my National Insurance number. The one she helped me apply for on my very first day of work, meaning Feb 22. It is now 3 months later, and they have sent back a letter saying, due to a change in legislation, the application I had filled out is not valid, can I please fill in the new form they have sent and then send it back. Honestly, I can't see that the new form has changed at all, but what do I know?

Time away

Looking at my calendar this morning, I was very pleased to discover two things...for one, now that I've written in weekend trips to Cornwall and to visit Rob and Nicole in Guildford, my weekends in June are now fully booked. And for the other, I have already been granted the time off for my two weeks in the States in July, and in the near future, I plan to turn in a request for two more weeks in August for a vacation with Maja (most likely in Turkey). Which means that is basically a month (4 weeks total) I'm not spending working at this current rotation! Woohoo!! Although I have to say, given that I love OT, it makes me sad to be so desperate for time away from it. Hopefully that will change with whatever rotation I have next.

Meanwhile, an update on those two patients the physio and I wanted to send to inpatient rehab, or Intermediate Care. Via the head nurse, both consultants have "caved" for lack of a better word, and the referrals were sent off this morning. Now we have to wait until the assessments are carried out this week, to see if they are accepted for Intermediate Care.

Escargots

First and foremost...Happy Birthday Tressa! And I believe she has just taken her last exam today. Congrats, kiddo, you survived! Next stop, graduation. In all seriousness, Tressa is a real life hero to me, and I'm glad she's in this world with me. Be nice if we could have conversations more than about once a month via long distance phone calls, but by the time I return from my grand British adventure, Tress will be back in Africa. Le Sigh.

It has been raining here quite a lot, as well as high winds, since the middle of last week I think. England is finally living up to its climate reputation. On my walk to work I cross underneath a roundabout (traffic configuration, they have them in Mass, only they're called rotaries), where pedestrians such as myself and bikers, and horse riders can safely avoid the traffic. England has a rather large, indigenous population of snails. Unfortunately for the snails, who like to come out and for whatever reason, cross the footpaths, in the rain, people seem to like to smash them. I've been rather saddened this morning and last week by the needless violence of it all....and invariably have found myself rooting on the rare snail still alive, barely moving across the footpath. I will it along, to move as fast as it possibly can, can't it see the carnage surrounding it, go snail go!

The beer stein

Last night was an interesting night...I started out way over near Wimbledon (over an hour on public transport) at the Oktoberfest pub. They were having what they called Mayfest, billed as a pre-Oktoberfest event. For 10 pounds, you got entrance to the pub, a free glass beer stein (see below), and your first drink free. I swear, you had a workout just lifting the silly thing which is very heavy on its own, and especially when full of beer or cider or whatever. I was out with Nicole, Dave, and a couple of Dave's friends, and we had a good time. But after a while, I got tired of the so-called Oompa Loompa band playing the only three German drinking songs they knew, as well as Take Me Home Country Roads and When the Saints Come Marching In over and over and over. And I got tired of the drunk guys using cutting through the crowd as an excuse to put their hands all over me. So along about 10pm, I left and headed for Liverpool Street, which is only a couple of stops from my stop on the central tube line. I'd had a text from Nicole Levesque that she and her boyfriend Rob and several of Rob's friends were at a bar/club in that general area. They let me check my beer stein at the door and Rob's friends were very very nice. The music was good, and suddenly I didn't feel so tired anymore. I forgot to keep track of the time, since the tube shuts down at 12:30am, but luckily everyone was planning to take cabs, and were happy to drop me off on the way. But first, we went up the road to a bakery that had bagels...it was the one-year anniversary for two of Rob's friends who are a couple, and they wanted to do exactly what they had done at the end of the night this time a year ago. They had bought bagels with salt beef and mustard that clears your nostrils the same way wasabi will do. So we all went and bought them- salt beef tastes very much like corned beef. I also tried something called Eccles Cake, which I'm told is Welsh-- it was sugary pastry filled with a sweet raisin filling, very tasty! The girl behind the counter took one look at my stein, looked back at me, and shook her head in disbelief.