Under My Own Tuscan Sun

After Firenze, I went about 50 minutes east by train to my next WWOOF farm. This one was a fruit farm, producing raspberries, blueberries, black and red currant, apricots, plums, and figs, and processing them into juices and jams. It is an agroturismo that alternates hosting guests and volunteers. It is owned and operated by an Italian couple in their early 50's who have been living on that property for over 25 years. The WWOOFers stayed in the guest house with our own bedrooms and bathroom which was really nice. There were 2 other volunteers around my age- a woman from Quebec and one from Florida.
Like the farm in Piedmont, I had an absolutely wonderful time here too. This one was a bit more mellow though. One the first farm there were more volunteers, plus a 4 year-old boy, and 5 Brazilian cousins that came to visit, so it was very lively, and we worked more (with a mid-day siesta). But here the days were quieter and more meditative. We did a lot of raspberry weeding and helping in the laboratory where the fruit is processed. We canned juices and helped put labels on jars and fill orders.
We also harvested currants, which I know I've tried in the past but had never eaten much of. They mostly grow red currant, but some black and white currant as well. The black currant makes a really good juice that we would often have at breakfast along with homemade bread and lots of fruit spreads.
Sometimes we worked after lunch, but more often than not they gave us the afternoon off. They said it was too hot to work and we should just relax. This gave plenty of time for reading, sunbathing, and hiking around the area.

As Americans, we think of 'Tuscany' as one region, but what I quickly learned here is that there are many different regions within Tuscany. This region was Mugello, a hilly area that produces a lot of olive oil and wine. There were trails through the hills right from the property, so I would often go jogging or hiking in the later afternoon after it cooled off a bit.
Besides work and hiking, I also did, of course, a lot of eating. Both the farmers were great cooks, and aside from the simple continental breakfast, lunch and dinner were thoughtful, multi-course affairs. There was usually pasta, but as just one course, not the entree. It was sometimes fresh, sometimes dried, ranging from spaghetti to a regional potato-filled tortellini. There was usually always bread and local cheese which you could help yourself to at any point during the meal. At the end we usually ate salad, assembled to our individual liking with garden cucumbers, greens (often intense radicchio), tomatoes, basil, red onion, and olive oil and vinegar from just a few kilometers away. Some examples of other dishes we ate are baby octopus with tomato and onion; mini clams in butter, lemon, and parsley; rabbit stewed in rosemary; blanched green beans doused with olive oil; pasta with a capers, goat cheese, tomato, and basil sauce; spicy seafood rice; bell pepper caponata; grilled polenta squares; melted tomino per cuoche cheese; roasted chicken; lamb and potatoes; and this savory zucchini ricotta tart. What I was struck by over and over was how simple the food was, but how incredibly good. This tart for instance, was just a simple pastry crust with sauteed garden zucchini, onions, and local ricotta, but it was so insanely good.

We had one dish that was not simple at all, and was probably my favorite of my entire trip. It was bacala, which is cod in Italian, and the name of the dish was something like Stoccafisso alla Vicentina. You get a Norwegian wind-dried cod from Venice, which is supposedly the only city in Italy that imports it. Then you soak it in water for 2 days to rehydrate it, changing the water several times a day. Then you stuff it with butter, Parmesan, parsley, and a little salt and pepper and tie it closed. Then you brown each side in a garlic butter-oil, and add a bunch of milk and let it all simmer for 2 hours. It sounds weird, cooking fish in milk, but the result was something incredible unique and delicious. Served over polenta it was one of the most stop-you-in-your-tracks flavors I experienced... one of those meals where you spend the first half of all your bites in disbelief over how amazing it is.

One thing that stands out for me about this part of Tuscany was how many pollinators there were ALL the time. I've never been anywhere in the world that was so alive with bees, butterflies, moths, and insects. You could look out to any bush at any time and see dozens of winged creatures buzzing about. It felt abundant and vital.
The other thing that I really treasure about this farm was that it was the place where I learned the most Italian. Both the farmers spoke French as a second language, but virtually no English. My Spanish was mostly understandable to them, so in the beginning I spoke in Spanish and they answered in Italian. As I picked up more and more words (you learn quick when you have to!) I could speak a very rudimentary Italian with the gaps filled in in Spanish. This worked well for most of the days activities, though occasionally the conversations got a little too complicated for my Italian level, especially around the dinner table. Then the farmers would say it in French to the French Canadian woman, and she would translate for me into English, and I would confirm my understanding in Spanish. So four languages around the table was not uncommon! It was so nice to have this time to wade through language, and to work hard to get little ideas across. We would often break out the huge Italian-English dictionary at the end of the night, remembering words we wanted to look up during the day, and sharing an earnestness and joy to come to an understanding.

Firenze

Firenze is the Italian name for Florence, the capitol and largest city of the region of Tuscany. It's known for its beautiful architecture and art museums. A friend from Bellingham, Alanna, is here for a few months visiting her boyfriend, so the timing worked out that I could visit them. We met at the stunning Duomo (cathedral) in the heart of the city.

The other thing to know about Firenze in the summer: it's hot. But it's not just the air, it's the buildings. The collect the heat from the sun all day, and even after the sun goes down, you can feel the radiant heat smoldering off the stone, so you always have this vague feeling that you are being cooked alive in an oven. It's very important to eat a lot of gelato, necessary even. I thought the gelato was fantastic, and I was really particular about trying new flavors. Some of my favorites: ricotta with fig (fichi), peach (pesca) with amaretto, and panna del pastore, which is mascarpone and honey.
Alanna borrowed a friend's bike for me to use, so we rode around the city, ever vigilant about cars, zippy scooters, masses of pedestrians, and rickety cobblestones. Actually the streets are so bumpy that the bike I used was a pregnant woman's, whose doctor forbade her from riding until after the baby was born!

We climbed a million stairs up to the cupola (dome) of the cathedral for an amazing view of the city. Then we rode across the river to a cute outdoor bar for drinks and a roasted eggplant and brie panino.

One Tuesday a month, all the major art museums are free, and it happened to be the Tuesday I was in town! We went to the Accademia Gallery, which houses the David. It was definitely one of those times where the 2-D pictures you've seen of something don't do justice to the real thing. It was stunning. We also went to Uffizi, which has one of the largest collections of Renaissance paintings in Italy. There are a ton of masterpieces there, by Michaelangelo, Rafael, DaVinci, Botticelli, and many others. It was awesome having Alanna's boyfriend with us, who happens to be an Art History professor! His English is excellent and he was so knowledgeable. No photos are allowed inside, but one of my favorites was The Birth of Venus (La Nascita di Venere).

Another day, Alanna and I took bikes on the train and did a day trip to Cortona. This walled city on a hill is now fairly touristy after Frances Mayes' book Under the Tuscan Sun. The property she bought was outside of Cortona. What drew me there though, is that it is supposedly where my Italian family is originally from! Indeed, I found Casali street and Palazzo Casali (Casali Palace) which now houses an Etruscan museum.


A big thanks to Alanna and Alberto for being awesome hosts while I was in Florence!

On a Farm in Italy

One of my main reasons for coming to Italy was to volunteer on organic farms through the WWOOF (World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms) program. My first farm was in northern Italy, in the Piemonte region, or Piedmont in English. It was very close to where my friend lived in Bra, yet I had to take 4 regional trains and half a day to get there... not unusual for the Italian train system I'm told! But it was great to finally arrive on the farm, a 20 minute drive from a small city up into rolling farm hills and tiny roads on hairpin turns.

The farm is run by a Brazilian woman, her Italian husband, and his father who was born on the farm. They also had a 4 year-old son and another baby on the way. The land has been in their family for over 200 years. They grow wine and table grapes, wheat, barely, maize, hazelnuts, plums, and many veggies, and go to market 4 mornings a week. They grow and grind all their own flour in a stone mill off-site. The property was about 30 acres, nestled in hills with the medieval castle of a small town visible on a ridge in the distance. It was a peaceful and gorgeous spot.

When I arrived, there were 4 other volunteers already there. There were 2 guys from California, and 2 women from Vancouver, BC. They helped orient me to the farm set up and the typical work schedule. We helped ourselves to breakfast, usually yogurt, homemade muesli, seasonal fruit, homemade bread, or fresh eggs, along with strong percolated Italian coffee. By 9am we started working in the field, and it was already fairly hot but not too hot. Field work was anything from harvesting vegetables to organic pest control to weeding to transplanting new starts to cutting lavender.

Then in the late morning as it got hotter, we would usually move to a shade job. There was a good covered outdoor work table where we would shell hazelnuts or prep veggies or bunch herbs.
At this point the farm mom Vanessa would usually be working on lunch and one or two of us could help cook if we wanted. Meals usually consisted of a lot of vegetables, some pasta, homemade bread, cheese, some meat, and beer or wine. Vanessa was a wonderful, intuitive cook and I learned a lot about Italian and general cooking in these couple weeks. Some examples of dishes we ate: potato/green bean bean casserole with pecorino, sauteed favas with onion, stuffed tomatoes with basil, garden vegetable soup, green salad with homemade rosemary croutons, fried squash blossoms and onion flowers, bagnetto (an amazing and simple parsley sauce with garlic, lemon, and egg), anchovie ceviche, homemade calzones, pasta carbonara, rice pilaf, bruschetta, prawns in tomato sauce, local cheese, grilled vegetables, curried cannellini beans, etc.
After eating and cleaning up from lunch, we would take a siesta until 4:30 or 5. I haven't been much of a napper in recent years, but I started liking the afternoon lie-down here. You wake up feeling sort of groggy, sort of refreshed, and ready to get back outside. The evening is a nice time to work since it's not too hot. We would usually harvest or sometimes do other projects like painting, construction, or more cooking. One evening I learned how to make tiramisu after asking Venessa for a lesson. If you ask, I would make it for you just to have a reason.
We usually ate dinner around 8 or 9, which was on the late side for me, but I got used to it.

That was our average day, but of course there were a few days with variations. One day, Vanessa and her husband took a couple volunteers to the beach, so the rest of us had the day off. We decided to walk to the town in the distance with the castle on the hill. When we got to this tiny town, it was obvious that we were foreigners, and I don't think it was much of a tourist destination that sees many visitors. Luckily for us we were noticed by the town's mayor, who offered to give us a tour of the city! Not only was it an awesome tour of the cathedral, castle, old wine cellars, city hall, and general history, but the young mayor was incredibly hot. Here we are on top of the medieval castle, overlooking the rolling hills and vineyards of Piedmont.

Another day we got up early to finish our work before lunch, then in the afternoon the farmers took us to a river swimming spot. We had to hike down into the river valley, then hike upriver to eventually find these pristine rock pools and falls. There was no one else there, just us on a hot day in the clear water.

But probably my favorite experience of all was just getting into a familial rhythm with the farmers and the other volunteers. It's been a long time since I've lived in such a tight community, and even though it was only for a couple weeks, we established a great rapport and daily life together. I'm so thankful to have been able to cultivate this relationship with the land, and enjoy its beauty and bounty in our shared meals. I will miss this place dearly, and hope that I can go back someday. A small consolations is that I get to go to another farm in Tuscany in about a week! To be continued...

Slow Food, Fast Travel

Okay, I have really really wanted to go to Italy for the past 10 years. I feel like I've had it on my mind forever, then suddenly there I was, landing at the airport in Milan amidst real Italians. In a flurry of travel, I got from the airport to central station, to Turin, and then to Bra by 9pm. Where is Bra, you ask, and Why did you go to this random small town in Piedmont? Well, an American friend just started grad school in a food program there. But she and I have actually never seen each other in America- we met in 2005 in our study abroad program in Mexico, then were both living in Korea at the same time and met up in Seoul, and now in Italy!

She warned me about the cheese smell before we got to her house, and in that moment I decided that a good way to judge how much I like a country is by the likeliness that people's homes smell like strong cheese. She had recently visited a farm and bought this amazing cheese directly from the farmer. She immediately opened a bottle of local wine, and made a dinner of fresh spinach and ricotta pasta with truffle oil, along with 2 kinds of bread, fresh tomatoes, cucumber, and the aforementioned cheese. It was such a welcoming first night in Italy and I'm so grateful she was able to host me in the midst of her busy schedule.

She is going to the University of Gastronomic Sciences, and it's no coincidence that this city is also the birthplace of the Slow Food movement. Food is always the topic of conversation, from a new way of hulling rice to whats at the market to whats for dinner. You feel like you've barely finished one meal when you start to shop and prepare for the next. That day we went for a run, ate a great lunch at home, drank espresso, ate gelato, and walked around the city.

That night we went out for pizza, my first authentic Italian pizza. We ordered 2 pizzas between 3 of us, mushroom and gorgonzola. They were both delicious. As I looked around though, I noticed every one had their OWN pizza, big pizza. After sharing 2 pies, we were all stuffed, and I couldn't imagine how an average person could eat a whole one. Little did I know that barely 10 days later, I would be able to tuck into my own pizza without a problem. But for now, I just marveled at the newness of the place, at trying to read the menu, and at what verbs to use for ordering things.

Though I wanted to stay longer, hang out with my friend, and visit her school's campus, I had to be on my way. It felt like a bit of a whirlwind, but I had planned to start volunteering on an organic farm the next day, so Monday I set out from this random but great first city in Italy.

Ode to Italian Espresso

The tiny cup sits in front of me aloofly with its still cap of perfect carmel crema. Pour the sugar in one place, don't sprinkle it around, they told me. Stir it in a focused circle, not a back-and-forth swish. I should drink it in a fast gulp, but I can't. I sip, savoring its brightness. Back home, bright would mean sour or weak or brewed too fast. But here, somehow, the flavor is strong and deep and still bright like a summer day. It's round and light and rich and smooth and pleased with itself, so I am pleased too. One last swirl gets the crema off the side of the cup, and I finish it, wistful about its small size. I want more, but espresso is a lesson in moderation and loving the smallest of moments. So the cup clinks on the saucer, and I smile at the coming day and the best euro ever spent.

El Camino de Santiago

I can't remember when I first heard about El Camino de Santiago. I think I had a vague idea of it from various past references, then some friends walked it last summer and then I checked out a book from the library. It's a medieval pilgrimage route from various parts of Europe (mostly Spain) that end in Santiago de Compostela where the remains of Saint James are said to be buried. Though not particularly Christian, I loved the idea of doing a pilgrimage on a trail that had so much history and carried so many devoted people for over a thousand years. On this current trip to Spain I don't have enough time to do the whole thing (usually 4-6 weeks for most pilgrims) but I figured a few days on the trail was better than nothing. Luckily my friend Cherie was up for it at the drop of a hat, and with a few preparations and purchases we set out early one morning to take the 40 minute bus from Bilbao to Castro Urdiales where we started.

We began walking along the stone waterfront promenade, then up onto cliffsides with sweeping ocean views, following the symbols of El Camino: yellow arrows and shells.
The trail wove through small towns, farmland, highways, forests, and footpaths, always feeling like a scavenger hunt as we looked for the small painted yellow marks for where to go next. You would think nothing of them if you weren't looking, but they were always there, along with random spigots of drinking water. We saw a lot of cyclists, lizards, churches, and old men walking dogs. We met a little boy who excitedly told us about a beach up ahead. We passed a herd of sheep on a bluff where the only sound was their cowbells, and the 2 lone goats were sitting atop a picnic table. It was a surreal day, walking between the Bay of Biscay and the hills of Cantabria, not seeing any other pilgrims.
We finally reached our destination of Liendo in late afternoon. At that time of day it's still siesta and the small village was quiet, just closed shops and hot sidewalks and a looming stone church in the center of everything. We found the albergue, a hostel specifically for pilgrims. Luckily there were still a few beds left, even though most pilgrims start walking early and arrive at their daily destination earlier than we did. We heard that on the Camino Frances, the "main" route, it can be a bit crowded and almost a race to get a spot in the next hostel. We were on the mellower Camino Del Norte so our schedule was more flexible. It doesn't sound fun to stop walking at noon anyway- what would you do the rest of the day? We were happy to call it a day though, as our feet were pretty sore, Cherie with blisters and my feet threatening the appearance of some. We walked about 25 somewhat hilly kilometers (15.5 miles) with packs, so a good rest was in order.

We went to the one open cafe to get a few pintxos to go. Pintxo is a Basque word (written pincho in Spanish) and is basically the tapas of the Basque country/northern Spain. They are usually a slice of baguette with some kind of meat, cheese, seafood, and/or roasted veggies on top. These were like little raclettes on bread, so along with hard-boiled eggs, snap peas, cheese, crackers, fruit, and beer, we had a good dinner picnic just as the town was waking up for the evening. We chatted with the other pilgrims- several French, some German, and a Brazilian couple. Every one seemed surprised to learn we were American. It seemed like about half of the pilgrims had done a different route of the Camino before, and I guess once wasn't enough. Everyone headed to bed around 9 though the day was still bright out. I stayed up til 10 drinking half a cider with a German guy. Wild night at the pilgrim hostel!

The next morning Cherie and I had a nice chat over coffee with a middle-aged German woman, then set out again in our matching outfits. Oh, didn't I mention that we matched? We had bought leopard-print tank tops, and both had brown shorts, so we were sort of a ridiculous sight.
We made it to the city of Laredo with has a huge beach. We were tempted to swim, but it was just cloudy enough that it didn't feel totally inviting. Instead we continued on to a little foot ferry to cross the bay to the next town of Sartonya. What did Saint James do to get across before the ferry?, we wondered. We met a nice group of other pilgrim women, one French with 2 Romanians.
They were all really sweet and we ended up at the same hostel. Cherie and I went out for dinner and were excited to see signs for Water for Elephants at the one-screen theatre. I didn't have high expectations for the movie but we both loved the book. Unfortunately it was dubbed instead of subtitled, so we decided to pass. Gelato was our consolation prize so I can't compain.

The next day we walked a bit more, but it started raining in late morning so we weren't as ambitious as we could have been. It had been a short but full couple days of walking, so we caught a bus back to Bilbao to rest up and get ready for Barcelona.

Spain

I´ve been in Spain for over a week and I think about this blog every day. As always with traveling, there are so many new sights, smells, sounds, experiences everyday and I think about how to put those into words, but so far I´ve had very little time to sit down at a computer. So instead, a quick update, better than nothing.

I met my friend Cherie in Bilbao, the biggest city in the Basque country in northern Spain. She and I met last year when we were both teaching in the same city in Korea. We both had talked about meeting up in Europe after Korea, so it´s awesome that it really happened! We headed to Barcelona together and have been doing a lot of walking, sightseeing, and eating here, as per usual. All is well, and I´ll try to write more details later!

Crossing the Sun

Well, after being home for less than 2 months, I'm off again for a short stint in Europe. This trip has been long-awaited; I haven't been to Europe for 10 years and have wanted to go to Italy since then. I left Seattle on a drizzly afternoon, into that strange time warp of air travel where it never got completely dark, only twilight for a long time then light again. Just as I was getting tired around 11pm for my body, we arrived in Amsterdam at 8am local time. Going through immigration the lady was ridiculously nice, more interested in chatting about my travel plans. I took the train 15 min to Leiden where my friend Jeanine lives. I met her about 3 months ago while traveling in Vietnam... she had a ukulele in her backpack so I had to strike up a conversation, then we ended up spending the next few days together. Now she is back home and was kind enough to host me in my jet-lagged state. She met me at the train station and rode me to her place on the back of her bicycle, with amazing balance and burly legs like a proper Dutch gal. Leiden is a cute city, visually very similar to Amsterdam but smaller and mellowed. There are tons of canals, sidewalk cafes, and everyone riding bicycles. It was awesome to see her and we had a really fun day wandering around the city between my naps. Next up I'm flying to Bilbao, in northern Spain. More to come!

Austin

I just got back from Texas! One of my best friends moved to Austin while I was still in Korea, and I wanted to see her. Plus it's been the darkest, wettest, coldest Seattle spring in a million years (or something like that) so a hot-weather escape was in order. My friend Will and I went together, and arrived in Austin in the evening. The air was warm and the plants and birds and smells were unfamiliar and we were stoked for a few days in this new place. We had a late dinner consisting of many vegetables from their house farm box (So many things already in season! It's only May!) and some local Texan microbrews and sat out by the backyard fire. It was warm and dry but there was a lightning storm, turning the big night sky turquoise under streaks of forked lightning. We just don't get that in the Northwest.

I figured in the morning we'd wake up and get out the door as soon as possible to see Austin in the day time. But to my dismay, it was pouring down rain! Like, dumping buckets, tropical storm, hail stones, house-shaking thunder, raining. Apparently they really needed the rain, so I couldn't be too bummed, but seriously, we were trying to escape Seattle weather. It was a little ridiculous.

It just meant that the three of us sat around the cozy dining room with pot after pot of french-press coffee, attempting to catch up on the last year of life. Luckily it cleared up by afternoon and got sunny and we headed out for a walk and shopping. That night we met up with Lindsey's roommate at a pizza place for dinner, who also had just had a friend come into town. Incidentally, the roommate and her friend are both also from Washington state, making for a 5-person Pacific Northwest convergence.

The next day the 5 of us walked around Congress street, got ice cream, and then decided to check out the flagship Wholefoods (essential tourist stop, I know) for lunch. It was indeed huge, with beer and wine tasting areas and a chocolate fountain. As we were leaving, the fire alarm went off, which we assumed was not real as the crowds of people flooded out the doors. We went to the car and smelled smoke, and as we pulled out of the parking garage, saw smoke and fire trucks on the corner. Only my 3rd day in Texas, and already I was dodging death.

The afternoon sun was still hot, and we went to Barton Springs to go swimming. It's an awesome swimming area right in the city that is fed by a natural spring and is virtually the same temperature year-round. Unfortunately Lindsey had to go to work, but the four of us swam and sun-bathed and did some good people-watching.
Somehow our foursome dubbed ourselves Team America, and the Team decided that staying outside was the only way to go for dinner. Seriously, I love warm climates, where most of the year you never really have to go inside until its too hot and you need the a/c. The weather couldn't have been nicer, just warm and comfortable. There are a million taco trucks/food trailers in Austin, serving all sorts of food. This one that we went to had Mediterranean food and a doughnut truck and another one that I don't remember in detail but I was eyeing the half a quail. In the end I went for lamb kabob with a blackberry-roasted habanero dipping sauce. Yum! The best part about a lot of these places is that you can BYOB. Again, that would never happen in Washington.
The next morning, Team America went running together around the neighborhood. Linds and Caroline live in Cherrywood, a cute residential neighborhood with a handful of local coffee shops, grocery stores, taco stalls, and bars.
Then, in good Texan fashion, we went toobin' on the river. That's right, not tubing, it's toobin'. We drove about a half hour out of town to the Rio Blanco, where you can park your car, rent a tube, and have a bus shuttle you to a drop point upriver. It was a lot like the tubing I've done on the Nooksack- slow and shallow water, big groups of friends, separate intertubes to float food and drink coolers. Some of the differences though- half of the men on the river had tattoos, and most of them were Texas-themed (state shape or flag) or a cross (usually with a longhorn skull hanging from it). Also, every one was tan. And there were more speakers blasting really loud music. Definitely not as peaceful as the river experiences I've had back home, but super fun all the same.
On Sunday morning we all made a big Sunday brunch together and drank a lot of coffee while listening to the Gospel show on KEXP. In this city so close to the Mexican border, I was inspired to do some regional dishes, so we ended up with egg and poblano chilaquiles, sauteed summer squash, black beans, salsa, and homemade guacamole. Later, we got even more inspired and made avocado margaritas. Sounds weird right? Don't worry my friend, they were delicious, especially on a lazy hot Sunday in the backyard.

It was hard to leave such a wonderful place after connecting with new and old friends. I will miss Lindsey dearly, but hopefully she'll stay in Austin for awhile so I have an excuse to go back.

Horray for Moms

Happy Mother's Day to all the mamas out there! I hope you had a fun, relaxing, love-filled day.

The past week I've been gearing up for the holiday at a flower shop in Bellingham where I've worked on and off for many years. It was great to be back among old coworkers and the flowers, chatting, laughing, and getting creative with beautiful fragrant things.

While not working I also found time to make dinner with my sister, draw with my niece, run around Lake Padden, go square dancing, see a local play, check out new restaurants, see old friends, play Bananagrams at the bar, drink a lot of coffee, and dream about going to Italy.

On Sunday morning I worked for a few hours, made some corsages for the moms in my family, and high-tailed it back to Seattle for a late family lunch. It was a nice relaxing end to a hectic week, the best part of course being able to be with my mom. She is an amazing woman and one of my best friends, and I couldn't be more grateful for her presence in my life.