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There’s never a dull moment on my little vicolo…. (Read Vicolo Wars and Vicolo Wars: The Sequel).

 

I tacked the following note to the front door on the way out of town this weekend. I thought perhaps I could appeal to my drunken, vicolo-loitering, barfing teens’ sense of irony (combined with a little bit of pleading). I was wrong.

The note read, “I want to die drunk to throw up at the gates of hell.” – Jim Morrison*  This is not hell but the front of my house. Go vomit elsewhere. Thanks!

As I lugged out my trusty red bucket filled with scalding hot water to clean the remains of someone’s regurgitated stomach contents from the cobblestones in front of my stoop, it hit me! This wasn’t vomit at all, but rather a carefully placed pile of Pappardelle con ragù.

Touché, Ragazzi, touché. 

Game On!

*This quote was attributed to the late Jim Morrison, however I was unable to find confirmation that he had ever said it. It appears to be an urban myth circulating around the Italian Internet.

Vicolo Wars Update:

December 2, 2014 – Last night a young friend of mine saw the Facebook Post and photo below.  Translation: “One person in Orvieto assessed the situation with a little sense of humor.”  

It’s nice to know this young man appreciated the sarcasm.  Bravo Nicola!

Vicolo WWIII Screen shot 

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I love it quadri

Tip #1:    Point and grunt.

Tip #2:    Always have Google Translate open on your phone and a copy of the “Alfabeto Fonetico” in your wallet. My name spelled out this way is Torino-Otranto-Napoli-Imola. Domodossola-Empoli-Bologna-Empoli-Livorno-Livorno-Ancona.

Tip #3:    Never make eye contact on public transportation – it invites people to speak to you.

Tip #4   Don’t engage in conversations with Italians under the age of 5…it’s just soo00 humiliating.

Tip #5:    Avoid initiating phone calls – send emails or text messages because you’re less likely to sound stupid in writing.

Tip #6:    If you must answer the phone, pretend you’ve got a bad connection. “Pronto? Mi senti? Mi senti? Boh” and then hang up.

Tip #7:    Respond to questions (even if you don’t understand them) with phrases such as “Certo” (sure), “Si, Si” (yes, yes), “Va bene” (okay) and “Ho capito” (understood) as you start to walk away. People won’t think you’re rude – just late for an appointment.

Tip #8:    When all else fails…talk with your hands.

 

And speaking of speaking Italian..I recently participated in a podcast with Cher Hale, the brains behind the “Iceberg Project.

http://cherhale.com/2014/07/what-would-it-be-like-to-live-in-orvieto-italy-an-interview-with-toni-debella/

What’s the Iceberg Project,?

The Iceberg Project is based on the theory that most of what you learn about culture when visiting a new country without speaking the language is just the tip of the iceberg. To learn more about The Iceberg Project go to click here

by Toni DeBella

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Vicolo scooter
 

THE SAGA CONTINUES… (Read Vicolo Wars here).

Since declaring war in my little alley things have gone from bad to worse. 

Remember the plants that I couldn’t water when motorcycles were parked underneath the windowsill? Not a problem any longer – my flowers pots disappeared one by one by one…

Flowers and sign

Rough Translation: “For the person who stole my vase of flowers. Shame!”

When the cold winter weather arrived the scooters moved out and the dog walkers moved in… 

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Rough Translation: “Someone lives on this vicolo. It’s not a bathroom for your dogs.”

**(Note: Sign disappeared 5 minutes after I posted it).

Oh, how I miss the days when young girls only sat on the stoop and smoked. Now drunk teenagers scream and barf on my doorstep at 2:30 a.m. leaving broken beer bottles to step on in the morning. I admit it was sort of amusing listening through the door as a group of confused offenders discussed the sign. I think the sarcasm might have gone over their inebriated little heads…

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Rough Translation: “To be young is a beautiful thing. Please be young somewhere else.” 

Vicolo War is hell.

 

by Toni DeBella

 

 

 

 

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2013-02-08 11.17.39The 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. 

PasseggiataIt’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.

by Toni DeBella

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Kelly's Bike

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.

Kelly laughingI 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.

Kelly alley paintingFortunately 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.

IMG_2478Kelly’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).

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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.”

Sketch tour rome

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 

See Kelly’s artwork at Kelly Medford.com and her Adventures in Painting Blog

by Toni DeBella

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IMG_2416I 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.

IMG_2072Yesterday 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!

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Is it really necessary to rev your engine for what seems like FOREVER, before driving away?

Today was the final straw…

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This is war!

by Toni DeBella

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American In Rome

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”. 

 

Photograph “American Girl” by Ruth Orkin, 1951

 

by Toni DeBella

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photo 2Yeah, 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.  

HHI LOGO

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

by Toni DeBella

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Last week Steve Brenner and I premiered our video “The Food Police: The Rick Steves Episode”.  We had such a blast shooting it in Rome and we are so grateful to Rick and his staff for generously promoting it on Facebook and Rick Steves Europe.  

Rick Steves shoot

On the first day 128,000 people viewed our film and 350 posted comments. I tweeted Anthony Bourdain and began stalking George Clooney’s publicist.  It was sort of surreal.

By the second day the views had fallen-off a bit. They dropped even more by day three. I guess people moved on to watch a YouTube video of Korean pop star PSY.

I think that may have been our fifteen minutes of fame.

Me and Andrea

See Episodes I, II & III here:

Go to www.foodpolice.it to find out more about us and sign up to see what we’re up to next! 

by Toni Debra

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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.

IMG_2181Today 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.

by Toni DeBella

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