Changing house

8 May
In Italian we say cambiamo casa: we are changing house versus the colloquial American “moving.” I like it. The Italian verb muovere is used for lots of things from “moved to tears” and taking legal action, to a dog wagging its tail, but never for the process of going to a new residence, hence changing house. Ric and I have been very busy changing house and thus there have been no posts to GoodDayRome and few to Our Weekly Pizza.
External view at Via di Villa Emiliani. You can see my head in the window to the left of the balcony.
External view at Via di Villa Emiliani. You can see my head in the window to the left of the balcony.
Some of you may not know, but we are retiring later this month and staying in Rome: the plan is to remain here for two years to travel and enjoy before returning to Portland, Oregon. We had to leave our lovely apartment on Via di Villa Emiliani because it was provided by the Embassy and a new diplomat is arriving soon. Last October we embarked on a search for new place (that alone will be a future subject as it was a process unlike in the U.S.) and May 2 we picked up the keys.
We have continued to shed stuff. We started to downsize in 2003 when we left our large home in Lake Oswego for condo life in NW Portland. We continued when we moved to Rome as our embassy-provided apartment was almost half the size of the condo. The new apartment is furnished, although we chose to bring a few pieces along, and as we will be paying to store anything we send back to the U.S., we wanted to send only those items we most cherish: Ric’s collectible trains, some family heirlooms, art, and so on. No sense paying storage for two years for a set of flatware that cost $130.00 10 years ago. We retained for use in Rome things that make us comfortable: our own linens, some kitchen utensils, wineglasses, espresso cups, our Nespresso machine (of course!) and so on. (The “furnished” rental apartment has two wineglasses. Seriously?)
 Our embassy community is a great outlet for selling furniture and we were able to unload sell almost everything we needed to: bed, desk, table and chairs, various cabinets, excess luggage, small appliances, etc. There are several churches involved in refugee relief and the local Episcopal Church, St. Paul’s Within the Walls, was able to take some things and referred me to another large relief organization that picked up dishes and other kitchen items we no longer need. When we get back to Portland my 13-year-old plates can be replaced.
Then there are the things that it is hard to find a “home” for. They might be disposable or unwanted by us, but they might be treasures to someone else. A “garage sale” is unheard of, so we carefully set these items out by the curb to see if anyone would claim them. If they are still there in a couple of hours, we take the next step and put them in the trash. There are people who make a life out of “picking” and no doubt some of their treasures end up at Porta Portese, and there are neighbors who will claim a watering can, flowerpot or lamp.
The train tables-- two-of-four -- momentarily used to stack things before moving.
The train tables– two-of-four — momentarily used to stack things before moving.
Ric had some hobby tables he used for his trains. They fit in the category of things-not-worth-storing-for-two-years, so we set one out in the street one day, and voila! it was gone in less than two hours. So a few days later we set out another one. Whoosh! It vanished while we went to the market. There were still two left and we figured we’d use the same magic act to make them disappear; However, in talking to our portiere who was claiming some garage shelving we wanted to give away, Ric said we should ask him if he was interested in the other two hobby tables. So we invited Emilio up to see them. Oh yes, he wanted them! At his casa al mare he has three storage units and can use the shelving for beach umbrellas, chaise lounges, gardening equipment, and all the paraphernalia one has at a beach house. Or he can put them at his son’s house. But, he wondered, did we set one of these units out the other day? Because Emilio was the
Items left curbside are retrieved by people who can use them.
Items left curbside are retrieved by people who can use them.
person who claimed it off the curb! He is, in his own words, un conservatore, a person who keeps stuff.
Changing house in a city full of apartments with tiny elevators is fascinating. Balconies and windows become entry-and-exit points for boxes and furnishings. The team rolled in with a small truck (easy to maneuver in the narrow streets) and a lift vehicle that provided an outdoor elevator. In less than 4 1/2 hours they boxed or wrapped everything for the new apartment and loaded it on the truck. By 4:00PM they had everything inside the new one. At each end the portiere (building superintendent) supervised the process. A second morning was devoted to packing up the items for storage in the U.S. Click on any photo for a slideshow and larger view. 

 

So as I write this it is early Friday morning. We are still not completely unpacked. The bedroom and bath are organized, but the kitchen is still in boxes and while most of the electronics are hooked up, the guest-bedroom-office is a dumping ground to be sorted out. We have 10 days before the first guest arrives so we need to kick into high gear. And we still have 7 days of work left before we retire.
So we are establishing “Base Camp Barton” where the cats will reside while Ric and I travel, and many cat sitters have been lined up for the coming months. More later….

Island life

18 Apr
I’ve been wanting to go to the islands off the coast at Napoli for a long time.  More well-known are Capri and Ischia. Since we only had a couple of days, I picked Procida and made it a mystery-trip-delayed-birthday-celebration for Ric. It should have been beautiful weather. This was also our last getaway before retirement.  All I can say is that at least it wasn’t as cold as Tuscany in February.
We were able, as usual, to make the most of it despite the weather. When it was not inclement we headed outdoors. When it rained, we luxuriated in long hours of reading in our very pleasant room over-looking a marina. The food was terrific: fish and shellfish galore, crisp white wine from Ischia, and decent pizza. (See Our Weekly Pizza.)  Much like when we used to go to Cannon Beach, Oregon, in winter, it was a relaxing break from the everyday. It is nice to get out of the city.
There were many people traveling to-and-from Procida and Ischia, many clearly bound for homes of family and friends. The ferry out on Saturday was packed as many Italians travel at Easter. There were not so many tourists, but we were far from alone. Clearly others expected Mediterranean Spring as well.
If one is in Italy for a few weeks of intense travel and sightseeing, Procida would make a nice break, a “vacation from your vacation” as Rick Steves says.  Herewith a slideshow to give you a feel for Procida. Click on any picture to start the show.

First and last

4 Apr
The other day, as I packed for a short work-related trip to Milano, I realized this would be my last business trip ever and I could not help recalling to my first, in 1978. That trip had not crossed my mind in years but it was remarkable and the memories now recalled are vivid even these 37 years later.
Washington, D.C.
Washington, D.C. Image courtesy of Vichaya Kiatying-Angsulee. at FreeDigitalPhotos.net
In 1978 I was working for the Bell System in Minneapolis as an instructor. Why at the age of 25 anyone thought I had anything to teach anyone I don’t know, but I was sent to Washington, D.C., to represent my company in meetings with AT&T and develop a new national training program for our accounts people. Needless to say I was very excited and thought I was a real hotshot. I flew on the now-long-defunct North Central Airlines (whose vestiges live deep inside Delta after many acquisitions) and rented a car at National Airport. (Reagan hadn’t even been elected yet so the airport was far from being renamed.) It was winter. I rented a car and proceeded through the dark city. The rental car broke down on Connecticut Avenue, in front of a church. On a Sunday night there was little traffic. Panic! No cell phones in those days. What to do? As I fretted a man approached the car. More panic! He motioned from the passenger side for me to roll down the window. I cracked it an inch. “I don’t expect you to trust me,” he said, “but it appears you are lost or…” he let the sentence dangle. “I am the pastor of that church. How can I help you?” I explained my situation. He went to the church, called the car rental company, and returned with instructions: leave the car and take a taxi. They would deliver a new car to me in the morning. The pastor even called me a taxi and waited with me until it arrived.
My first business trip was on an airline that no longer exists.
My first business trip was on an airline that no longer exists.
I never got his name, and I doubt I could even find the church any longer, but the kindness of this stranger has not been forgotten. The situation and his kindness made for a memorable experience.
I am hard-pressed to figure out how many business trips I have made over the years. In the 1978-1983 period I often traveled around the upper-Midwest for my employer. Later in the 80s Denver, Phoenix and Seattle figured prominently as the Bell System broke up and I worked for the “Baby Bell” called U.S. West. There were 14 states and 26 cities I had to visit on a regular basis as Vice President of Sales for a division of that large company. Ric and I courted while he flew west and I flew east meeting in Denver’s Red Carpet Club.
In the 90s I had a job in information technology consulting as a managing director requiring travel about 46 weeks a year, often hitting two cities in a week. I sometimes had to look at the phonebook in the middle of the night to remind myself where I was. I was gone so much that our dog quit sleeping on my side of the bed and switched her allegiance to Ric.
I logged over 100K miles each year on Delta for several years.
I logged over 100K miles each year on Delta for several years.
My final career business trip is memorable for other reasons: I am in Italy of all places, not something I would have even dreamed of back in 1978. I took a train, not a plane, and there was no rental car. (It would have cost Euro 40.00 a night to park it!) I will carry memories of terrific co-workers who aided in a difficult task, and of a hotel that tried to charge me extra for checking out early (that’s one I have not heard in 37 years of business travel), and it will be the last time I stay in a luxury hotel paid for by someone else.  No more frequent flyer/sleeper/driver points earned by my employers’ dollars.
How I travel now....
How I travel now….
I am a little nostalgic for those days when airline travel was something one looked forward to. We dressed up, we got reasonably palatable meals served at least some of the time on real china. You could check all of your bags for free! Ric and I were fortunate to take many first class flights on vacation trips, courtesy of those hard-earned miles. The real price of the trip was having to get back on a plane for “fun” after weeks of business trips.
Milano, the Duomo...far removed from D.C.

Milan, the Duomo…far removed from D.C.

Milan, the Duomo…far removed from D.C.
First and last: what a (pardon the pun) trip it has been!

Paris bits and pieces

1 Apr
By now I am used to functioning in two languages. I understand most of what I see in print in Italian, with the exception of the newspaper as it is written in run-on sentences with obscure terminology and archaic verb tenses. When someone speaks directly to me, I understand most of what they are saying if I get the context to start. When I need to communicate me la cavo (I get along) even if my grammar is not perfect.
When we embarked on our trip to Paris I was hit by the realization that I would not understand much of anything from menus to street signs, and I certainly would  not understand spoken French.  Going to France was the most foreign thing we had done since we first traveled to Italy in 2010.
We found ourselves speaking in an odd combination of Italian and English. I am used to speaking Italian to our servers, technicians and shop people in Italy, so that’s the first language that sprang from my lips, combined with mangled French pronunciation. “Prendo il boeuf bourguignon, per favore.” I could not get past grazie to merci until mid-week. In one restaurant, we mixed up languages sufficiently to have the waitress convinced we were Italians who spoke little English. When we said “Merci bonsoir” at the end of the evening, she cheerily replied “Grazie, anche a te!”
There was little hope for me in pronouncing French street names. My Italian-addled brain insists that “Place” must be pronounced PLAH-chay. Once in awhile we’d hear Italian being spoken by other visitors and it was a joy to hear and understand.
Shopping in a French market reminded me of our first trip to Italy when we tried to figure out what things were. Like in Italy, lots of offal was available, from tripe to lambs heads (sorry vegetarians). The Super U was rather ordinary, but some of the shops are magnificent. We found ourselves taking a lot of pictures of store windows and displays.
Here are some Easter treats. Each store had a theme: fish, chickens, cows, even a little mole poking his head above the ground. All gorgeous and expensive. Click on any picture for a slide show.
Fashion windows are creative and the bakeries difficult to resist. The bejeweled athletic-style shoes are Dior. I love the ducks sporting sunglasses and the colorful men’s accessories. Ric showed no interest in blue shoes.

 

Avocados, artichokes and cabbages are arranged attractively. I wish I had taken a picture of the huge strawberries artfully displayed. In the Place du Madeleine area, boutiques with high-end chocolates, teas, cheeses, and wines seemed like museums. 

 

We also found time to see the major sites as we wandered the city. At the end of seven days of tromping about Paris my pedometer reported 162,222 steps. We covered some ground, but there’s so much left on the list that we must go back…but later in the spring so we can enjoy the gardens and maybe take our coats off. 

Paris v. Roma – Part II: Street Scene and Getting Around

22 Mar
In Part One I spoke about the differences in gustatory delights between Paris and Roma. We also have a number of observations to make about architecture, mobility, and behavior.
Street Scene
Saint Dennis holding his head, facade of Notre Dame.
Saint Dennis holding his head, facade of Notre Dame.
When we travel we like to settle in for a long stay. No “Paris-in-three-days” whirlwind for us! We saw one museum a day, at most, and spent plenty of time wandering neighborhoods both wealthy and moderate. We rented an apartment in the 17th arrondissment, managing to stay under our goal of €100.00 per night. It was nothing fancy yet everything we needed. This approach let us observe local life: children going to school, city workers, mothers and fathers, the elderly doing their shopping, transportation systems, and maybe just figure out a little how a place works, what it might be like to live there. Thus a few words on the streets of Paris versus Rome.
Streets in Paris are cleaner than in Roma, due partly to an absence of graffiti and less litter overall. This
This little girl was endlessly fascinated by the pigeons.
This little girl was endlessly fascinated by the pigeons.
is made possible by an amazing system of street cleaning involving surging water and workers with brooms. We first feared all the crap ended up in the River Seine, but lo-and-behold found this explanation.  Cigarette butts and other small debris is washed away, and larger items are bagged by the workers.
In Roma it is a never-ending battle for city workers against messy denizens. If a trash bin is overflowing, they leave their bags on the street, never mind there’s an empty bin 50 yards further on. Of course in Roma graffiti is art (sometimes) and after all, it was invented by the Romans. Old-fashioned street cleaning trucks make their way down the street very few days and hose down the debris, sweeping up some of it.
Notre Dame, of course!
Notre Dame, of course!
Paris’ grand old Haussmann buildings are elegant and the straight streets make navigation on foot easy. The wide tree-lined avenues and boulevards allow one to see far in each direction. Cars are parked in an organized fashion and pedestrian crossings are left open for, well, pedestrians to cross. There are pleasant manicured parks that illustrate design principles.
In Roma every building is an individual, many are very pretty, and most are the same height regulated to not exceed the height of St. Peter’s. We have ancient sites preserved and visible almost everywhere and ancient walls and columns are oft incorporated into new buildings (if by “new” you can accept 400 years as “new”). But we have the ugly serrande pulled down over shops and restaurants and covered with graffiti. Not a pretty street presence, those.
In Roma, streets wind about not only in the Centro Storico and Trastevere, but also in other
The Louvre featured an installation of neon art.
The Louvre featured an installation of neon art.
neighborhoods. They may start by radiating off a piazza, but soon change direction and probably name. Finding your way is a nightmare until you’ve spent considerable time in the city. Trees are scattered, but on the other hand, Rome has some great green spaces (Villa Borghese, Villa Torlonia, Villa Ada, Villa Doria Pamphilj) and fountains running year ‘round. In Paris we did not see a fountain “on” in March.
Parking in Roma shows little respect for property or other people’s rights-of-way. White stripes in the pedestrian crossings are free parking, right? Double-parking is a constant battle for buses trying to weave through the already narrow streets. In Paris we have not seen such abuse of parking. It is very orderly and it seems there are plenty of parcheggi (parking lots).
"I love you" wall in Montmarte.

“I love you” wall in Montmarte.

Cats are absent in Paris. We did not see one cat in a week in Paris. I conjectured that perhaps they are all coddled little Fluffies tucked up in their Haussmann apartments. According to one Parisian I am probably right: they are house cats. Still, no ferals? We walked through residential areas and did see not one cat in a churchyard or courtyard or sitting on a wall. In Roma, a cat outdoors is not only a common sight, there are the gattare, women who feed the cats in the streets. There seemed to be fewer dogs in Paris than in Roma, and thus less dog poop on the sidewalks.
Military and police presence is omnipresent and focused in Paris. The patrols we saw were really
Ti voglio bene - I love you in Italian
Ti voglio bene – I love you in Italian
observing people. Good for them! In Roma, police/military presence is here-and-there and likely to involve five officers in a tight circle talking about soccer.
We did not encounter as much trouble with pedestrians hogging the sidewalks in Paris as we face in Roma. In Roma, groups of people will walk 3, 4, and 5 abreast acting indignant if they have to move for oncoming pedestrians. An old lady with a shopping bag can somehow occupy the entire sidewalk as she shuffles along weaving from side to side as if to thwart anyone from passing her. In Paris people made way as one might expect in crowded situations. If you have not encountered the difference yourself it is hard to describe, but many Romans seem to be so self-absorbed they are unaware of other people needing to pass and use the sidewalks.  I call them sidewalk hogs.
 
Transportation
Paris delivery vehicel.

Paris delivery vehicle.

Ah the Paris Metro! It goes everywhere! People enter the buses from the front, validate their tickets and passes, and exit only from the middle. Che bello! There are seats in both Metro and buses! People stand back and allow others to exit the Metro before forcing their way on, and it is QUIET! One day as we were riding, a guy answered a cell phone call while on the bus and got the stink-eye from an older couple. Any talking is done in hushed tones.
Roma? Chaos! On the bus, enter or exit any door, validate if you feel like it. Noisy? You bet! Several loud cell phone conversations are punctuated with loud talk and laughter. Why not catch up calling your mamma in Bangladesh (pennies a minute according to the ads!) while commuting half-an-hour?  Talk loud too be sure she can hear you over the noise of the bus. In Roma it is hard to get OFF the Metro or bus as the incoming traffic is pushing their way on. Young men fight old ladies for the few seats.
Scooters were everywhere, ridden by both children and adults. Here in Luxembourg Gardens.
Scooters were everywhere, ridden by both children and adults. Here in Luxembourg Gardens.
The Parisian buses are on a schedule! A real schedule! You can go to the RATP trip planner and be told – several hours in advance – when your bus will arrive at your stop. Che meraviglioso!  At each bus stop there is an electronic feed telling you when the next bus will actually arrive. Roma has a few of the electronic signs at downtown stops, but there is nothing resembling a schedule. There are departure times posted for each capolinea, but very rarely are these schedules followed.
Velib bikes all tucked away at night. During the day the racks were empty, all bikes in use.
Velib bikes all tucked away at night. During the day the racks were empty, all bikes in use.
Where in Roma one might be run down by a motorino, in Paris a bicycle might sneak up and knock you flat. The Velib system of bike rentals is very popular. We’d see racks full with 20-or-so bikes in the early mornings and late at night, but during the day they would all be checked out through an efficient subscription system accessible to tourists as well as residents. There are bike lanes in Paris (very few in Roma) that run counter to the direction of cars in one-way streets, so while looking right to see if traffic is clear, a jay-walker might be surprised by a bicycle silently approaching from the left.
We were  unimpressed by the famous TGV high-speed train run by SNCF, except for the price.
Look at the little yellow safety vests the children are wearing! So cute and easy to identify!
Look at the little yellow safety vests the children are wearing! So cute and easy to identify!
We paid less to go from Milan to Paris than from Rome to Milan in order to catch the TGV. However, there were no courtesy beverages like on Trenitalia, and overall we felt the trains were dingy inside and out. The food was overpriced and marginal, and when you are on a train for 7.5 hours, you want need food. Still, we did not have to deal with an airport, and that is always a plus.
 
In summary
Food: Italy for the win! While ethnic selections are few, wine, coffee, quality, healthfulness, and price are all in the positive column for Italy. Paris gets points for baguette. The French pastries and chocolates are amazing, and I prefer pain au chocolat to an Italian cornetto. Much flakier and delicate. The Boeuf Bourguignon at one tiny little bistro we found would be reason enough to go back to Paris.
Wine: Scales tip to Roma again. Quality at every price point. In Paris we got very good wine only at a price we find unacceptable for daily consumption.
Great cappuccino at a neighborhood cafe, where locals go. This was not by a tourist attraction. We drank it at the bar and still it was €4.20 FOR ONE. I shudder to think of what they would have charged if we sat down.
Great cappuccino at a neighborhood cafe, where locals go. This was not by a tourist attraction. We drank it at the bar and still it was €4.20 FOR ONE. I shudder to think of what they would have charged if we sat down.
Coffee: Roma for price and availability; Parisian baristas pour a good shot, but the cost is at least double most bars in Roma.
Architecture: Tie. Paris for elegance, Roma for quaint, ancient, charm.
Parks: Tie. Each city has nice green spaces. Paris’ are more formal, Roma’s more casual, even a bit wild.
Cleanliness: Paris by far! The street cleaning system of Eugène Belgrand is pure genius. City workers are very prominent in tidying up as well.
Transportation/Getting Around: Paris by a mile. The Metro is omnipresent, the buses on time and predictable. In Roma even the bus app we have on our smartphones cannot always predict when the bus will come. People park where they should in Paris, you do not get run over by motorini, and the availability and use of bicycles is laudable. The narcissism of Roman drivers with cars blocking pedestrian crossings and double-parking makes it difficult for buses and walkers to maneuver. The narcissistic self-absorption of pedestrians in Roma makes it difficult to walk down the street without getting knocked into. In Roma, people will walk out of a shop door without looking right or left and run into you. They are quick to apologize, but the behavior never changes as far as I can tell. Rant over.
Park near our apartment in the 17th.

Park near our apartment in the 17th.

Girovaga

Formerly GoodDayRome

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