Paolo and Elizabeth needed help harvesting their olives. The window of opportunity was closing and with rain in the forecast, this was possibly their last chance for raccolta delle olive.
Temperatures have dropped considerably in Umbria and a chilly wind was blowing. However, being the good friend that I am, I didn’t hesitate to offer my assistance. After all, what are friends for if not to come to the rescue in times of need?
The promise of free olive oil and a homemade meal prepared by Paolo’s mother, Franca, had absolutely nothing to do with it.
The clock tower bells ring out to announce it’s six o’clock. I jump up, grab my coat, obligatory scarf and run out the front door towards the main street of town! No one loves Sunday passeggiata (evening stroll) more than I do!
All over Italy this ritual plays out as streets swell with well-dressed residents parading about to show off their new shoes or newest love affairs. Back and forth, up and down, back and forth.
I merge into the flow, but unfortunately find myself stuck behind three generations of a family: Grandparents, parents, children, baby buggy and even the dog. Linked arm-and-arm they’ve spread themselves across the width of the street like an Italian game of Red Rover. I wait for a slight opening in the chain and squirm my way around the group, rushing to secure a place on the bench in front of the gelateria – my absolute favorite spot for people watching.
It’s here at the intersection of Corso Cavour and Via Del Duomo that foot traffic builds to critical mass, bottlenecking to create a kind of pedestrian gridlock.
I’m so happy to have scored a front row seat for La Passeggiata d’Orvieto. All that’s missing is the popcorn.
*”Lo struscio” (I have been told by a local) is more often used to describe a city stroll – “La Passeggiata” is a walk in the countryside.
It goes without saying that painters of landscapes love the outdoors, but for one American-turned-Roman resident, plein air painting isn’t only a passion, it’s a way of life. Riding around the Eternal City on her “tricked out” bicycle – two saddlebags swinging in the wind and trusty easel strapped to her back – it’s just another day at the office for artist Kelly Medford.
I met Kelly outside a book event in Rome last fall. mistaking her for a college student studying abroad. Perhaps it was her fresh face and wide-eyed exuberance that makes Kelly seem much younger than her years. But make no mistake about it, this petite powerhouse of a woman is an accomplished painter with serious credentials.
Kelly grew up in Washington, D.C., the only child of two left-brained scientists. Her emotional, expressive and free-spirited nature set her on a different path with its share of serendipitous forks in the road and twists of fate along the way.
Fortunately for us, Kelly’s travels eventually landed her in Italy where she studied at the prestigious Florence Academy of Art. It was in the Renaissance capital that she spent a year of intensive training in classical figurative drawing; honing her skills and developing her techniques. Painting indoors made Kelly feel isolated and itching to spread her wings so, in 2010, she traded the dimly lit, heavy-curtained and controlled environment of Florence for the warm, golden sun-soaked locations of Rome. You’ll most likely find Kelly on a tiny lane or hidden piazza painting evocative canvases of Roman life or its surrounding countryside.
Kelly’s love and enthusiasm for plein air painting developed, naturally, into her business, Sketching Rome Tours. “I created the tour so that people could have a different way of experiencing and remembering Rome. It’s such a beautiful place with so much history, that to take a photograph doesn’t really capture how you feel about a place.”
No Experience Necessary. No Erasers Allowed.
I recently met up with Kelly and her sketch group at her early-morning classroom, the Pincio balcony adjacent to the Villa Borghese gardens. My fellow students were Joanie, a teacher from Palm Springs (paints in her spare time), and daughters Becca (likes art a lot) and Vanessa (an excellent doodler).
Following a brief, but enlightening lesson on technique and tips for using our handmade-by-Kelly sketchbook and kit, we fanned out to draw…rocks, leaves, signposts, statues…I was having so much fun I didn’t want the tour to end. Sadly it did end, but not before gathering as a group for a little show and tell.
Kelly urged us to continue our visual travel journals after the tour was over. “When you look at those drawings” Kelly explains, “you’ll have a recall about the day, what it was like, who was there, the weather – just the place – and that’s why sketching is important.”
Memories, as I learned from Kelly, are extra special when you can hold them in your hand.
For more information about how you can sketch your own Roman memories, contact Kelly Medford at Sketching Rome Tours
I live on a quiet little vicolo (alley) just off the main square in town. It’s very private – the entrance to my apartment is the only one on the lane. No cars are allowed to drive down this street, however, foot traffic, motorcycles and scooters are permitted. The motorcycle riders love to park their bikes here (rather than in the designated parking spaces just a few steps around the corner). Italian motorcycles are the iconic epitome of power and sex appeal: Ducati, Aprilia, Vespa. Motorbikes and their owners are immediately deemed “cool” in my book, so I figured living on a street where they congregate makes me cool by association.
I came home last week to find a motorcycle parked directly beneath my kitchen window making it impossible for me to water my geraniums. I left the guy a note on his windshield.
Yesterday I discovered two girls sitting and smoking on my stoop – their scooter helmets lying in the street. Okay fine, young girls need a secluded place to commiserate about boys, but did they have to leave behind their plastic orange juice containers and a bunch of cigarette butts on the ground? Who do they think I am, their mother?
The cigarette butts are starting to pile up. Do you have any idea know how long it takes to sweep up a month’s worth of discarded butts between the cobblestones? Forty-five minutes. That’s right, forty-five minutes! And the thin, hand-rolled ones are the worst!
Is it really necessary to rev your engine for what seems like FOREVER, before driving away?
I don’t like the word “Expat” – it feels exclusionary, divisive and, dare I say it, a bit elitist.
I never liked being a member of a clique in school either, preferring to spread myself around, hopping from one social and ethic circle to another.
1ex·pa·tri·ate verb \ek-ˈspā-trē-ˌāt\
1: banish, exile
2: to withdraw (oneself) from residence in or allegiance to one’s native country
…Nope, that doesn’t quite define me.
Look, it’s perfectly obvious that I am not from around here (especially when I open my mouth) so I see no real need to announce it, label it, or hide behind it.
Go ahead and call me an “American”, call me a “Straniera” (foreigner), call me “crazy”, but don’t call me “Expat”.
Yeah, I know, I’ve been in a lot of film and video lately. Fifty-six years of relative obscurity and then, all of sudden, a rash of media exposure.
House Hunters International came calling in January to film this segment shortly after my move to Italy. The episode airs this Tuesday, July 9 at 10:30 p.m. Eastern/Pacific on HGTV.
The best moments filming the show …
Appearing with my son, Andrew Todd.
Working with the fabulous U.K. crew: Director Ben, Cameraman Gordon and Soundman Martin.
…and the wrap party that followed.
The Irony….
I can’t watch it from Europe.
What I hope for…
Good editing.
Sincere and special thanks to…
The City of Orvieto, Italy
Mayor Toni Concina & Riccardo Caracciolo Di Forino
David Tordi and The Bartenders
Textile Conservator, Igor Honkanen
Painters, Massimo Chioccia & Olga Tsarkova
Marbled paper artist, Lamberto Bernardini
Bar Clandestino
Steve Brenner, Linda Martinez, Giulia, Paloma, Viola & Goji Martinez-Brenner
Daniela Tordi, Darya Tordi & Federica Romagnoli
Giulia Donato & Nick Magliulo
Consular General, Italian Consulate of San Francisco & Jeffrey Capaccio, Esq.
Biordi Imports, San Francisco
Ristorante Ideale, San Francisco
Manuela Calvet, Maya & Anais Bette
Marisa Huber, Carol Carol Solfanelli, Suzee and Volker Ackermann & Dionne Garcia
Every single path we take in life has its price to pay. Fulfilling my dream comes at the expense of living far away from my son.
Today I especially felt the sting of that choice as I accompanied Andrew to the train station. I decided not to see him off at the airport because he absolutely hates it when I make public displays of emotion.
Honestly, I should have earned an Academy Award for this morning’s subtle and realistic performance as the upbeat and nonchalant Mom…smiling as I gave him a big hug, two kisses on the cheek (Italian style) and waved goodbye through the train window. I waited until I was on the Metro back home to burst into tears.
Andrew arrived in Rome in January to do a semester of university study. This once shy, introverted child had become a confident, independent and adventurous man. It’s astonishing how quickly he immersed himself into the experience: A year ago he was asking me, “How do you say “fork” in Italian?” and now I’m asking him, “Should I use the imperfect or simple past in this situation?” I admit it does bug me a little when he orders the dinner in a restaurant to avoid the embarrassment of his mother (who’s been studying the language for six-something years) mispronouncing menu items. I suppose I should be used to it by now – he’s been smarter than me since the third grade.
We spent his last day in Italy quietly walking around Rome. I could tell he was sad too, but he claimed he was just tired. I know he’s ready to return to his life in San Francisco and resume his studies, earn his degree, begin a career and get on with building the life he wants for himself. I want that for him too, but I will miss my Amore di Mamma more than I can say.
Shortly after arriving in Italy, I accepted an invitation to a book signing and reading event in Rome. When I learned of the book’s subject matter (a thirty-something woman who finds love with an Italian and moves to Rome) I thought, Oh no, not another fairy tale about coming to Italy, having an affair with Marcello Mastroianni and living happily ever after! Needless to say I was skeptical. Seriously, is there anyone out there who could bring freshness to this tired and overly saturated genre of storybook fantasies allaThree Coins in a Fountain, Under the Tuscan Sun and Eat, Pray, Love? I know I sound jaded, but my expectations are low.
After a brief introduction author Estelle Jobson sat down on a cushion in the courtyard of The Beehive Hotel, opened her book, Finding Rome on the Map of Love, and began to read. As I listened to her recount the stories, I noticed the corners of my mouth began to spontaneously turn upward. Her elegant and proper South African accent was in sharp contrast to the wry, sardonic and sassy repartee. Hey, this girl gets it! When she finished I was a bit sad, but fortunately I’d purchased my very own autographed copy of the book and immediately cracked it open on the train back to Orvieto.
During the first couple of chapters, I was gulping down Estelle’s pages the way a typical American might eat their dinner: swallowing without taking time to taste. Perhaps I’ve been in Italy long enough that a voice inside my head warned, “Don’t be in a hurry. Savor each flavor and texture.” This book was just like a good Italian meal; I never wanted the literary feast to end. And when it did end, I felt warm and utterly satisfied.
Estelle Jobson is a talented writer who has a true gift for observation. She describes things that, as an expatriate, I’d experienced but was never able to fully articulate. What appreciate most about Estelle’s storytelling is the way she doesn’t laugh at Italians, she laughs with them. Her book is filled with intelligent humor, compassion, and edgy insight. She’s sarcastic without being mean; clever without being pretentious; and emotional without being overly sentimental. Estelle sees Italians the way they really are and reconfirms, at least for me, why I love living among them.
I’ll stay with the food analogy just a little bit longer. I really enjoyed chewing slowly on every single delicious “bite” of Finding Rome on the Map of Love. Her words were propriobuonissime!
Like scrappy, bebopping Pied Pipers, Perugia’s popular street band Funk Offgets this party started with a nightly parade that snakes through Orvieto’s narrow and ancient cobblestone alleyways. Music lovers, young and old, scamper and skip behind these energetic hipsters as their infectious beat draws more and more followers along the route. The bluesy procession ends with an impromptu jam session in the Piazza della Repubblica, where you’ll find you can’t help but tap your feet, move your body and smile: It’s Umbria Jazz Winterand “baby, it’s cold outside”.
The international flavor and welcoming spirit amidst the holiday lights and chilly, frigid temperatures creates a unique atmosphere that makes this festival something special. For five nights, starting from December 28 to January 1, Jazz fans flock from all over Italy and beyond to partake in the music and brotherhood for which this festival has become world renowned.
The old year goes out with a bang!Capodanno is celebrated with concerts and spontaneous jam sessions all over town. Ring in the New Year with fireworks and lots of reveling in the streets. On New Year’s Day arrive at the famous Duomoearly to secure your spot for the first Mass of the year. Inside this majestic Cathedral you’ll witness something you don’t see every day; hymns sung at a Roman Catholic “Mass for Peace and Gospel” by Dr. Bobby Jones and the Nashville Gospel Super Choir. Hold onto your seats because this joint will be jumpin’!
Some people believe that in life “shit happens” – millions of bumper stickers even say so. These same realists might think that everything unfolds over our lifetime in a series of random occurrences and that wishing and hoping result in a future full of disappointments? My rational side can understand this philosophy but the dreamer in me can’t quite go along with it.
“Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors where there were only walls.” – Joseph Campbell
Did you know that you can talk to the universe and sometimes the universe listens? It’s been listening to me lately. I don’t always believe in things I can’t see or touch, but I sure as hell believe in that…and “what goes around comes around”, and right and wrong, and trusting your gut, and true friendship, and love…
Orvieto or Bust: 
