Ricordati di Vivere

Five sleeps before heading to Pearson, Air Canada and Rome. We are returning....finally! To Rome! To Italy! Yes! Yes! Yes!
Surprisingly I find myself not so much filled with excitement as with happy anticipation for what bella Italia does for my very soul.  When I think of Italy, so much comes to mind.

When I think of Italy, I think of art.  How can so small a country have gifted the world with so much art - da Vinci, Michelangelo, Titian, Giotto, Botticelli, Raphael, Donatello, my two favourites: Bernini and Caravaggio, etc., etc?  The list is endless.  And great art is found everywhere - from massive St. Peter's Basilica to tiny remote monasteries, from charming piazzas to public buildings, from bridges to forts.  Italy, for an art lover, is a feast for the eyes.

And speaking of feasts, when I think of Italy, I think of food.  In North America, we espouse the wisdom of cooking with local in-season foods. Italians have practised this for generations.  Food options are entirely dependent upon the city/village locale and the time of year of your visit.  'Fresh' is a way of life. In a cooking class Jim and I treated ourselves to during our last visit, our teaching chef 'passionately' explained to us Italians' desire to preserve traditional cuisines and that a true Italian recipe will have no more than five ingredients. Take the classic Caprese salad - fresh tomato slices, 'mozzarella de bufalo', leaves of fresh basil and a drizzle of aromatic extra virgin olive oil. Wow!

When I think of Italy, I think of wine. Italian wine conjures up for me mental images of grape-stomping parties.  Wish I could get invited to one of those! To enjoy Italian wine, all you have to do is drink it.  There is a wine for every palate - chianti, brunello, vino nobile, pino grigio, asti, soave....and the list goes on.

When I think of Italy, I think of history. Standing with Jim, early in the morning, in the Coliseum - before hordes of invading tourists arrived - taking in the vastness of this historic structure, we were awe struck.  My mind drifted back to the Grade 11 Greek & Roman history course I so loved.  Had anyone, back then, told me that I would one day stand in this magnificent example of Roman engineering and architecture, I would have laughed in disbelief. But there I was, imagining Roman crowds of 50,000 filing in, with the din of gladiatorial contests and public spectacles ringing in my ears.

When I think of Italy, I think of scenery. Amalfi's spectacular sheer 500-foot cliffs plunge dramatically to the sparkling Mediterranean Sea below. Imposing Mount Vesuvius menacingly shadows Naples, Pompeii and Herculaneum.  Wispy cypress-lined drives in Tuscany appear to be roads with giant exclamation marks.  Rome and its magical fountains at nighttime (I need say no more).

Sea, lake, canal. mountain, tangled streets, pastoral setting, hill towns - Italy possesses it all.

When I think of Italy, I think of living, family and community.  It is said that North Americans live to work; Italians work to live.  For me, this is the essence of Italy and why I am so eager to return.  Italians are true masters at the art of living life to its fullest.  We have so much to learn from them.  On Sundays, the entire ancient centre of Rome is closed to traffic.  Not just the main drag - the entire centre core!  Can you imagine us doing this in Toronto or Ottawa?  This glorious eternal city suddenly becomes populated with families, walking the historic streets and picnicking on grassy slopes.  Children laugh and run everywhere.  Trattorias are filled to overflowing with laughing families and friends enjoying multi course lunches and/or dinners.  Children and grandparents are all included.  No nuclear family here. 
Sit in an outdoor trattoria any evening in any Italian town or city and enjoy what appears to be a pageant.  Around 8:00 p.m. the streets begin to teem with families, husbands and wives, friends, lovers, all strolling, chatting, laughing and stopping to speak with each other.  Italians refer to it as passeggiata; I see it as a celebration of family, friends and community.

To visit a small town on the day of a major soccer match is to watch the townsmen pull a TV out into the piazza. Once all fans are gathered around, the boisterous support of their local team begins in earnest.  It is a community thing.  So much for the American "man cave".

I am not so naive as to not understand that Italy is also national financial woes, corruption, convoluted governmental problems, graffiti, etc.  But from every country to which Jim and I travel, we attempt to absorb the best and bring it home with us.  When I think of Italy, I think of  "ricordata di vivere" .(Remember to Live!)

Next post should be in 6 days from Florence.  Arriverdela!