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
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Posted in Italy, Living abroad, Living in Italy, Orvieto, Orvieto Italy, Rome, San Francisco, Travel, Travel to Italy, Uncategorized, tagged Amore di Mamma, Orvieto, orvieto italy, Rome on May 30, 2013|
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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.
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.
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Posted in Orvieto, Orvieto Italy, Travel to Italy, tagged expat in Italy, Living in Itay, Oprah, Oprah's Book Club, Orvieto, orvieto italy, Toni Braxton, Toni Morrison, Travel to Italy on March 24, 2013|
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From the time I was old enough to speak, I was a reluctant crusader against the relentless ignorance over the gender-bending name my parents assigned me at birth. 1960s Madison Avenue provided only one example to refer to when enlightening people on how to accurately write the girl-version diminutive of Anthony. “It’s spelled with an “i” instead of a “y”, you know, like Toni, The Home Permanent.” I grew weary of the discourse and confusion about my androgynous moniker and envied girls appropriately named Mary, Cindy, or Barbara.
As I reached adulthood, the naming world evolved and it appeared the heat was finally off women with “men’s names”. Thanks to Oprah’s Book Club, Nobel Prize winning author Toni Morrison became a household name and songbird Toni Braxton was a sexy girl-named-Toni babe. Things were looking up in the given name department…until I moved to Italy.
“Mi Chiamo Toni.” Oh, hell, here we go again.
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I snapped this photo of a smiling dumpster a few years back and thought to myself, “If a dumpster can be happy, why can’t we?”
For me happiness is like the AutoGrill on the Italian Autostrada; a pit stop on the road of life. You can pull in, park, take a coffee and hang out for a while, but you’re not permitted to set up camp. At some point you must get back into your vehicle and continue down the highway. Do you grumble as you get into your car, waiting and hoping to come across another AutoGrill soon?
When will we get it? Life is speeding past us like the scenery out our windshields. What we ought to do is run across the parking lot, jump back into our cars, roll down the windows and crank up the radio, singing bad pop songs at the top of our lungs.
Life is short. Be the dumpster.
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I am very lucky to be included in your circle of friends. Because of the distance between us we don’t see each other as often as I’d like, but when we meet it’s as if no time passes – we just pick up right where we left off. I know what a rare and special gift this is.
I lit a candle for you today. It burns brightly for happy memories, solidarity, friendship, peace and, most of all, love.
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Just a few kilometers outside the center of Orvieto there’s an area known as Localita’ Ponte del Sole. Drive slowly on the winding road and be careful not to blink or you might miss it: A small hand painted sign with the words “Risto-Pizzeria da Zia Graziella” nailed to a tree. The arrow points you down a white road that leads to a clearing…you’ve arrived at Zia Graziella’s place.
At first it might seem a bit unorthodox to find a pizzeria operating out of a private farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. However, when you consider that Italy is a country where food is one of its greatest sources of pride and cuisine part of its national identity, a speakeasy-style establishment thriving on a word-of-mouth reputation makes perfect sense.
Chef Zia Graziella has been creating pasta dough for over thirty-five years – first as the proprietor of a fresh, homemade pasta shop in the historical center and now as a highly regarded, wood-fired pizza cook. What makes her famous dough so extraordinary is that each batch is produced from an eighty-year old “mother” starter that she rolls out to a paper-thin consistency. Her recipe uses no oil and toppings are made with only the freshest ingredients picked from her garden or gathered from local area farms.
The price for a pizza dinner is fixed but the menu is fluid and dictated by the growing season. The meal includes antipasti, three or four different kinds of pizzas, dessert, wine, and coffee. Tonight, for example, we dined on Pizza Margherita (fresh tomato and mozzarella), Pizza with Fennel, Potato and Spicy Salami, and finally, Eggplant, Mozzarella and Tomato pizza.
The pizza flows like the nearby Tiber and can be stopped by leaving at least one slice on the platter – a signal to the kitchen that you’ve finished with the main course and are ready for dessert: a Pizza Nutella. I think it was somewhere between the coffee service and the pouring of Limoncello that I slipped into a Graziella-induced coma.
Honestly, I’d love to tell you that this amazing, one-of-a-kind restaurant is the best-kept secret in Umbria, but I’d be lying. Everyone knows the charming and talented Graziella: Martin Scorsese claims her gnocchi is the best he’s ever eaten and Richard Gere has her on speed dial. Not a VIP? Don’t worry – when you eat at Risto-Pizzeria da Zia Graziella, you’re more than just a celebrity, you’re family.
Risto-Pizzeria da Zia Graziella, Localita’ Ponte Del Sole, 38, Orvieto, Italy 05018, +39 389 792 5102
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Posted in Expat in Italy, Italian Culture, Italians, Italy, Living in Italy, Orvieto, Orvieto Italy, Rome, writing, tagged Amazon, Duomo di Orvieto, Eat Pray Love, Ebook, Estelle Jobson, Finding Rome on the Map of Love, Orvieto, orvieto italy, Rome, The Beehive Hotel, Three Coins in a Fountain, Toni DeBella, Under the Tuscan Sun on January 2, 2013|
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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 alla Three 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 proprio buonissime!
Enjoying my copy…
…in front of the…
…Duomo di Orvieto.
Find her and her book on Facebook
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Posted in Expat in Italy, Italy, Living in Italy, Orvieto, Travel, tagged Bologna, DB Bahn, Frankfurt Germany, Hurricane Sandy, Innsbruck, Munich Germany, Nuremberg, orvieto italy, Rome, Travel to Italy, Trento, Verona on November 9, 2012|
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All packed and nowhere to go.
Hurricane Sandy, like the Icelandic Volcano several years before it, had rearranged my date of departure leaving me cooling my jets in California for another week. You know how it is when you’re ready to go somewhere – a delay can be a huge letdown. My friend calls it “premature elation”. On the bright side, it was great to hang out with my Mom and Andrew a little bit longer, but after seven days on hold I decided to reroute my trip and fly to Frankfurt instead.
Am I becoming one of those people who always has a story?
On Tuesday I arrived in Frankfurt without incident, carrying everything I own crammed into two seventy-pound suitcases. I literally lumbered over to the DB Bahn desk for a train ticket to Italy. I explained to the young reservationist that I must be on the next train to Orvieto, Italy. She said the train to Munich was leaving in exactly twelve minutes, so I slapped down my credit card and took off like a bat out of hell – I hopped onto the train with just minutes to spare! I enjoyed the German countryside, but my train arrived in Munich late, so I had to make a run for it (with two heavy bags, “run” would be an overstatement). The conductor announced they would be pulling away from the station in 30 seconds so I flung my bags onto the last carriage – I think I have a hernia now. But really, the important thing is I was on my way to Orvieto at last!
I took a seat by the window and looked out at the passing cities of Nuremberg, Innsbruck, Trento…oh sh*t! I took the wrong train! Apparently “Rovereto” is not the German word for “Orvieto”, but actually a town near Verona. Oh well, at least I was traveling in the right direction.
In Verona, my friendly Austrian conductor, Arnold, offered to let me tag along with the train employees to their hotel and even convinced the front desk to give me a good rate. A pizza, a shower and a good night’s sleep was just what the doctor ordered.
In the morning I was on the train to Orvieto via Bologna. I met a lovely veterinarian from Rome, Marco, who helped me get my bags (or as he referred to them, my armadi (wardrobes)) off of the train at Bologna Centrale and three hours later I arrived at my new home. My friend heard my bags rolling down the marble stairs all the way from the station lobby. She remarked how lucky I was to have avoided the excess baggage charges by the airline. Yeah, I am lucky.
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Posted in Americans Abroad, Expat in Italy, Living abroad, Living in Europe, Living in Italy, Orvieto, Travel, tagged duration calculator, Italian time, orvieto italy, space time continuum, travel, When Harry Met Sally on September 2, 2012|
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60 days, 8 weeks, 1440 hours, 86,400 minutes and 5,184,000 seconds…
Everyday I obsessively enter my impending departure date into a duration calculator, but strangely the “days remaining until I arrive in Italy” number never seems to decrease. Time is not just dragging, it has come to a screeching halt and I’ve begun to wonder if my new life in Orvieto will ever begin? I fear I could be trapped in some kind of weird vortex or bizarre Italian space-time continuum!
Harry’s touching sentiment in the film, When Harry Met Sally echoes my own:
“…when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone (or, in my case, somewhere), you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”
Unfortunately like a pot, a watched country never boils.
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Posted in Italy, Orvieto, San Francisco, tagged beauty, DeYoung Museum, fashion, Golden Gate Park, Jean Paul Gaultier, Madonna, Orvieto, orvieto italy, San Francisco, style, travel on August 5, 2012|
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Orvieto or Bust: 
