See that statue standing in our Piazza? (photo above). He is Verrazzano, the famous explorer…discovered the Bay of New York and a lot of the East Coast of the U.S. in the early 1500’s. His family was one of the top 2%ers of his day…They owned the Verrazzano Castle and winery here since the 7th century. You should see it to believe. The bridge in New York was the only thing named after him in America, as far as I know. What would have happened if he did not discover the Bay of New York? Would better or worse people have taken over? Would it ever have been discovered? Take a walk up the hill from the statue…Go about a mile and you get to the town-house sized home of Amerigo Vespucci. There is a  figure of a ‘Wasp’ etched in the stone above the door; that’s how you can tell it was his home. Amerigo uncovered the fact, and drew maps accordingly, that “America”  (which was named after him) was a ‘New’ Continent (Mundus Novus)…and not the Eastern Coast of Asia as theretofore believed. Imagine if Amerigo had not figured that out – the America’s might be Chinese to this day. And where would all the good, white, Christian people, who wanted to flee from Europe have gone? These are the kind of things one can ruminate about while enjoying a morning ‘Doppio’ Espresso (for only $2.20) in a nearby cafe. Something to take your mind away from the threat of redistricted elections in the Mundus Novus. “History is bunk!” said Henry Ford (one of America’s early 2%ers); but bunk can be interesting too…sayeth I, as I order another.

 

 

Truth to tell, Spring is not my favorite season of the year. Pollen allergies, the dreadful changing of wardrobe from winter to summer, the end of good hot stews, tax payment deadlines...those sorts of things. But there is one event here I have come to really appreciate: The return and nesting of the ‘Rondine’ (Pronounced “Ron-dee-nay”) This bird is a swallow and has been revered in Tuscany for centuries.. Puccini wrote his famous opera “La Rondine” inspired by this little sparrow. Well, every year about allergy time, this bird comes to my small town to nest and have babies.  Suddenly, one day, you hear all this chirping and screeing, seemingly happy sounds. Yes, we have our pigeons, magpies, merlots, crows, cuckoos and the like; but there is nothing compared to the Rondine…They come swooping high and low, in and throughout our piazza, sometimes flying as low as ankle height in pursuit of insects.  And they build their nests. Our town has many terraces overlooking the piazza. In turn, these terraces create porticos, which provide a ceiling where the Rondine build their nests and re-occupy last years nests – to the delight of the locals and the tourists visiting the area. These birds, like all birds, poop outside the nest; but most of the storekeepers and residents tend to clean up after them – rather than shoo the creatures away. Back in the ‘States’, my memory suggests, most vendors would eliminate the poop providing nests…maybe some places would even have laws against such…(Perhaps things are changing there, now that there is a Director of ‘Make America Healthy Again’ who does not recognize there are such things as germs).  Anyway, there is much noise and merriment in the making of the nests.  Then, one day: Allora!  (See the photo above).  If you thought you heard chirping before these arrivals, you have heard nothing. The parent birds fly in and out all day, feeding their young. Feeding their howling young until the chicks are too big to fit in the nests. (See photo again). And everybody in town watches the little ones learn to fly. And imagine, they raise two families a season!  It is a wonder to behold. When you see something like this you tend to feel not everything is as bad as it seems.  (Once again, see top photo above)

A few more things about the Tuscan town in which I am living. The man who makes my wife’s daily Cappuccino was named Fabio. I say ‘was’ because I take credit for re-naming him “Fabioloso”. The local Baristas take pride in their work  (see photo above of one of Fabioloso’s efforts) – A Barista is a career…not a job to get through to get another one.  Georgio, another Barista – who I re-named  “Buon Giorgio” (…a complimentary take-off of the morning greeting “Buon Giorno”)  happily makes a pretty ‘Cappucco’ as well. A Cappucco and a Doppio (Double Espresso) will run you about $3.80. All served in ceramic cups with a spoon on the side. Drink it first, pay on the way out.  When I lived in the States I got the ‘jits’ from my morning coffees …so I descended to Decaf…Here, I drink Espressos fully loaded – no jits.  A Barista explained to me “The amount of caffein in the coffee is directly proportional  to the amount of time the water spends with the coffee grind. Thus, the Espresso method – hot water pushed quickly through – spends almost zero time soaking over the grind – so all you get is taste. Another factoid…If you were to come this way: Do not order a Cappuccino after twelve noon. For a long period after WW1 there was little food available and many of the people  had only coffee mixed with hot milk for their breakfast. In respect to the past, no one here has a breakfast drink after twelve noon.

What has all this to do with ‘Vote Cheating’ Mail-in Ballots, or the price of moving a tanker through the Straits of Hormuz, or Mr. Tr*#p  upbraiding the Pope of Rome for his interpretation of Christianity? Nothing! And that is the point. I am going down to the piazza and order a second Doppio from Fabioloso.

Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.* -Alphonse Karr, 1800’s

*The More things change, the more they remain the same.” – not true anymore.

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So. Where were we? Oh, yes. I am reporting from a small town in Tuscany. My wife and I first came here in the mid-nineties. Stayed for 6 years. We had two English Bulldogs with us: Belle & Lucy.  We’d take them down to our local Caffe every morning for our coffee. Everybody in our little town marveled at the sight of the dogs. “Do you let them in the house?” many would ask. “Do they really sleep inside?’ Dogs, you see, in those days were for protecting the house. Back then, if you had a dog it would be chained to a stake and was supposed to bark at people passing by. But Belle & Lucy were treated kindly and were known to enjoy snacks of any kind, if offered – which was often. Why do I mention this? Because today almost everyone here has a dog. There must be a hundred of them in the Piazza everyday. Big ones, small ones, full breeds, mutts. The dog pictured above is “Pigot” (Pronounced “Pea-go”) He is a town favorite – even though he does not seem to like other dogs. The locals don’t know about dog regulations yet. Dogs are allowed in the Caffes, restaurants, and stores – where more often than not they are given treats for simply just being there. Frequently they are not on leashes. This is a good place to live, if you are a dog – or otherwise. If, as I assume, I am responsible for introducing dogs to this town – then I think we Americans (my being known as an American) can be given credit for bringing something nice to the area – other than the discomfort everybody in town seems to be feeling from the disturbing madness coming out of Washington these days.

I’ll end it here and give you a chance to spend a little extra time with Pigot.

I thought I’d tell you a little about the town I live in.  It is a small Tuscan village, just south of Florence. That’s me in the photo…writing from my terrace overlooking the town’s Piazza. I have a forty-two step walk to a little cafe for my morning coffee.  In many ways this village is like an Italian adult version of Sesame Street. The baker, the butcher, the pizza maker, coffee barista…etc.  Early in the mornings I hear men coming to the cafe for their coffee before they are off to work. Everyday, I hear them talking, laughing – having a good time of it. Before I moved here, seven years ago, I never knew of people having such a good time of it, going off to work   A man, Massimo, who picks up the trash and sweeps the piazza, is always humming as he works and happily waving at everybody who passes by. He is respected in the community for his craft as is the lawyer, the baker, the restaurant owner. It’s not all roses, nothing really is…we do have our ‘Beggars’. Not many; but some ‘regulars’.  They usually appear on the weekends (Most have full time jobs nin the region)…one is very nice and polite, another is surly and angry in appearance. I usually give them a Euro each.  A friend asked me why I give the angry one anything.  I think my reasoning is: I feel I was lucky, being born a white male into comfortable circumstances.  I don’t know if I would have had the strength of character to endure what they went through to get here.  They make a dangerous crossing of  the Mediterranean on a raft and then beg for that euro and try to be nice about it at the same time.  We also have a man who I will call the ‘Slasher’.  He’s an Italian – about 40 years old, who, when he is off his ‘Meds’ is potentially harmful.  A few months ago he flashed a knife to the crowd in the cafe. He was subdued and taken away for a month or so.  No harm done. Every once in a while he comes up to me and asks for a Euro for some coffee.  I always give.  Sometimes, I come up to him to offer – and often he say’s ‘No thanks, I’ve had mine already’.  Strange world.

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Over the years – in my little cafe,  I have met many ‘Expats’ from several different countries.  We discuss what we think are the world’s concerns – and lesser matters, and are generally having a good time of it.  I am fortunate to receive input & opinions from such divers sources. It is my intention to continue this ‘Memoiresque’, unless my subscriber base insists I do not.