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Posts Tagged ‘Orvieto’

curtain

When you walk up the Corso Cavour from the funicular station, you’ll find the neoclassical, 560-seat Teatro Mancinelli. It hosts international theatre companies, avant-garde, jazz, dance and music. But, it’s the Fracassini masterpiece – a painted curtain (completed in 40 days) depicting the 535 AD event when a Byzantine army drove the Goths from Orvieto – that will blow your socks off! Visit the theatre for a self-guided tour and then afterwards, have a coffee or ‘lo spritz’ at the beautiful Caffe Del Teatro Mancinelli.  Share! Like! Visit! 

 


mancinelli light

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‪#‎31daysofOrvieto‬ ‪#‎orvietoorbust‬ ‪#‎browsingitaly‬‪#‎iloveorvieto‬ ‪#‎teatromancinelli‬ ‪#‎Italytravel‬ ‪#‎Orvieto‬

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Did you know that: 1) 2,500ish year-old Orvieto sits on volcanic tufo cliffs; 2) The Pope(s) slept here; 3) There’s an underground city with as many as 1,200 Etruscan caves and wells; 4) It was sacked by Julius Caesar’s Rome in 280 BC; and 5) The famous funicular railway was once operated by a water-ballast counterbalanced system?

Want to find out more? Come! Visit and Share the “31 Days of Orvieto” with your friends!

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It began almost a year ago. A man was visiting a mutual friend of mine in Orvieto and took a picture of an elegant, solitary gentleman sitting on the bench across from the Duomo. Several months later the photographer wrote to ask if I knew the gentleman’s name or how to contact him. He thought the man and his family might like to have a copy of the portrait.

Although I’d passed him many times on the street, I didn’t know him personally. Naturally, I turned to social media for help, posting the above photo on my Facebook page with the following caption:

“This is a beautiful photo shot by a friend while visiting Orvieto last spring. I have seen this man around town but I’ve never formally met him. Does anyone know him? If so, perhaps he might like to see his portrait – it’s stunning.”

Responses poured in.

Signor Lollo (affectionately known simply as “Lollo”) was a beloved mathematics professor at the high school. They say he is sweet and gentle and that I might find him walking along la confaloniera (the promenade on the edge of town) in the mornings. In any other circumstance I might have staked out the confaloniera at dawn, bounding up to him in my overly perky American style, but in this instance I thought better of it. Something told me he was a private person and maybe a bit shy as well.

It wasn’t long before fate stepped-in and I found myself alone on the street with Lollo walking towards me. I politely stopped him and asked if I could show him something? He said yes, so I pulled up the photo on my iPhone. “Carina, la foto”, he said and told me he had remembered the day it was taken. I asked if he had email, but of course he doesn’t. Then he said “Grazie, Cara”, turned and went on his way.

I’d been carrying around the 5 x 7 print in my purse for weeks, waiting to see Lollo again. Finally I spotted him down on the Corso and after greetings were exchanged, I handed him the beautiful photograph and said it was his to keep. He seemed pleased and touched by the gift.

Nowadays, whenever Lollo and I run into each other on our walks, we always stop and have a little chat. We’ve even developed a “secret handshake”.

A picture may be worth a thousand words, but the connection it formed with a stranger that turned into an unlikely friendship is priceless.

Photograph by Win Sargent

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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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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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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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Toni Perm boxFrom 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.

by Toni DeBella

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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.

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I lit a candle for you today. It burns brightly for happy memories, solidarity, friendship, peace and, most of all, love. 

by Toni DeBella

 

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Finding Rome on the Map of LoveShortly 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.

IMG_1262After 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.

IMG_1263Estelle 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...

Enjoying my copy…

...in front of the...

…in front of the…

...Duomo di Orvieto.

…Duomo di Orvieto.

by Toni DeBella

You can contact the author at findingrome@gmail.com

Find her and her book on Facebook

ebook on amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Finding-Rome-Map-Love-ebook/dp/B009HBLYYO/ 

Online extract here: http://italianintrigues.blogspot.ch/2012/10/the-socialization-of-italian-man.html

 

 

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Watch YouTube Video Below!

Like scrappy, bebopping Pied Pipers, Perugia’s popular street band Funk Off gets 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 Winter and “baby, it’s cold outside”.

IMG_1412The 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.

IMG_1595The 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 Duomo early 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’!

For more information about the festival go to: http://www.umbriajazz.com

SEE YOUTUBE VIDEO OF FUNK OFF HERE:

by Toni DeBella

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