Murder Fur and Lemoncello

This morning we leave the Cinque Terre.
I’m sad to leave. This spot is unlike any other we’ve been to in Italy. Its rugged in a very different way then the other costal area’s in Italy- like Amalfi where we visit next. It seems to be a hub for cool hipsters with all the shops sporting work of the artists that own them screened onto t-shirts and bags. I may have overbought- but an artist who doesn’t support other artists and buy their work? They are the worst kind. That’s how I justify it anyway.
So after a number of fights while packing- we are ready to go again. We leave anything we can’t use in Amalfi to lighten our load. We need to make room in the car- today is an 8 hour drive to naples and beyond- so we need room in the vehicle. So we dump a TON of stuff and leave it in the room. And by a ton of stuff I mean I leave 2 hair elastics and the empty bottle of shampoo I finished this morning. Nicole leaves 47 packets of used A&W vinegar, and about ¼ inch of last nights wine. We like to travel light.
We make our way back the way we came- up the little hill where I was pooped on – and piled into the elevator- up to the top level of the town and to the tupperware container we parked in. The woman who we rented our house from meets us and takes her payment, says she watched us while we sat out on our deck everynight with food- she is very impressed we cooked! I’m sure it’s a rarity- most choosing to go to the restaurants with their service and views….but we have the best view in town, and a small kitchen and someone who loves to cook- I mean LOVES TO COOK. If you had to make me choose between cooking and painting- I’d be hard pressed. Not that I think I’m particularly great at either- but it makes me feel more accomplished then anything else. I used to say I didn’t feel like I visited a place until I painted it- and that is still the case…but now I add cooking with the local veggies and the terrible kitchens to that list. Feeling like I lived somewhere if I made something out of nothing there- with food or paint. When I think of tuscany I can honestly say the first thought is listening to Bocelli while I cut tomatoes and Nicole buzzes around rearranging furniture, Chris and Gary giggling on the terrace-before I think of the landscape. Escaping to that thought whenever I’m overwhelmed at home- ashamed to say my mental health needs that more often then I’d like to admit- but so lucky to say I have that memory in the bank for those times. In a song I can only listen to sometimes, the signer says “sometimes life just slips in through a back door, and carves out a person and makes you believe its all true”. And those moments of cooking and living all over the earth- those remind me I can carve out anything I want- and when life slips in and makes me believe otherwise? I have a good memory argument to make as to why it isn’t that- that life is a beautiful gift- my only job is to remember to enjoy it- to rewrite an ending or two and fight the demons just a little-bring back the fire in my eyes. May is my kindling, painting and art the spark, chis fans it, Nicole carefully watches the fire to make sure it doesn’t go out, Gary stoking it when I need a hearty laugh the most. Writing the heat I get from the fire- rounding it out. A raging fire when we’re away, slowly fading until we travel again and the fresh fire is built with the ashes of the last. The blog keeps it fresh in my memory- and makes me feel like you’re all here with me- I hope it comes off as that- a way for me to share it all with you- not a brag- not one once of me feeling the need to show it to you all as a way to say- don’t you wish you were here- but a “I wish you WERE here with me”- this makes me feel you are, you reading this. Picturing you reading it as if you’re all next to me…describing it to you as if you’re blind sitting next to me, not as if you’re elsewhere. So thank you for that xox (12,450 read the last post according to the matrix. Love from Italy)
So we leave this beautiful spot today- but we’ll be back. And I have 5 paintings of the villages to look at over the next year-an ember to start a home fire.
So yes, up the elevator and back to the woman who rented to us, who lets us pack the Fiat back up with our things- a little shocked at the frying pan and the basil plant mostly dead- but we want to smell it all the way to Amalfi so its brought in the car. Then once we’re packed- she demands the keys back from the boys and shews them out of the way to back the car out of the snug spot its nestled in so the boys don’t cause a land slide trying to do it themselves. They pretend to be annoyed, actually very thankful they don’t need to do a 17 point turn- watching her swiftly back out without a blink or use of the mirrors.
Then we are away. Chris driving, Gary the co-pilot in the passenger seat, me behind Gary screaming “TRUST THE TECHNOLOGY” every time I tell them to make a turn based on Google maps on my phone that Gary deems is in the wrong direction. And before we know it we are on the A1- driving through Tuscany again heading for the mountains and the other coast.
I think its important to note that for the entirety of the 8 hours. 8.5 if you count the stop for gas and snacks at the autogill- Nicole and I don’t shut up. If you had it on 2x speed and listened it would be a burst of talk, followed by a silence, which you would quickly realize is just nicole and I pausing for a breathe in while we laughed. We talk about lots of things. Mostly nonsense. For example we start by talking about something serious like our feelings on Turdeau, and descends somehow into the cotton like substance that floats through the air that we’ve decided to call MURDER FUR. It gets stuck in your nose and your ears and your clothes and makes you sneeze like you have covid. It’s a hayfever sufferers nightmare. And calling something murder fur turns into some stuff we can’t blog about- which turns into a scenario where we start a new blog about “after hours muppets” called the Teppums. Instead of the Muppet lounge they run the “Muppet Lickety Splits” where the felt is a little grittier and Murder fur means something completely different—then cue the laughing until we can’t breathe. Like- tears, Tammy faye Baker makeup running down our faces and the boys looking around like they missed a train they were waiting for to somewhere they aren’t sure they want to go anyway.
Gary has decided to start talking in a british accent everynow and then. Not sure why since we are in Italy….but he does it Every now and then- and for some reason when he does this, his voice goes 10 octaves higher and he sounds like a man dressed up as a woman in a monty pyton skit. It makes no sense- we’re weird I know. But everytime he does it we roar with laughter…but not for the reason he thinks. He thinks he’s being super witty, but really he sounds ridiculous- so he just keeps doing it. The cars passing must think we’re the party Fiat.
Every now and then Gary says “Hey google”. And I remind you he doesn’t own a phone. He is talking to me. He knows I have full cell access while I’m here- so he thinks I’ll indulge him and google anything he asks…like, “hey google- how many people live in Poggibongi?” and he expects me to look this up and answer him immediately. Which I fell for the first couple of times, but now I just make it up. I’m including this as a public service announcement- if Gary tells you any facts about Italy don’t believe him. Because I realized long ago that he believes anything I tell him. And I’m too lazy to indulge the questions. So when he asks “does Italy have jack rabbits” I tell him “yes, 15 different types, and some of them live on human flesh only. Make sure you carry mace and cover yourself in your first urine of the morning to avoid trouble” he instantly starts to make a plan for 6am collection. So yeah. Just a heads up.
The one thing I do indulge is when he and nicole say that they both felt a shake in our building this morning. Nicole says it kind of in passing, but then gary says “yeah…I felt that too” and I google “earthquakes in Italy today” and find out that there have been 33 earthquakes on our coast today, they happen a number of times a day in fact. Which is terrifying, given we have been, and are going to be, sleeping precariously positioned on a cliff for the past and next weeks. The latest one, at 6am and at a magnitude of 2.3…which is definitely enough to feel. YIKES.
Just before we head into Naples, we stop for a coffee and a snack. The “americano” coffee here is hotter then the face of the sun. Its amazing and very tasty, but its so hot that we hold it for at least 45 mins before we can comfortably drink it- killing a number of tastebuds in the process. Switching between hands every 12 seconds or so like hot potato. The boys switch up the driving at this point…Gary wasn’t allowed to drive until now on account of the murder fur in his ears and his inability to follow instructions- but now he is given the wheel for the drive through the mountains into Amalifi and its 2 way 6 foot wide roads. You have to leave your Canadian behind for these roads. They are switchbacks through the cliffs, at times 200 feet above sea level or less, climbing to over 800 feet without warning, on streets that-should you run into trouble- you’d have no choice but to head on the car in front of you or go over the barrier and plunge to your death. And based on the street side shrines, it happens a lot, a split second decision to sacrifice yourself or do a 50/50 with the car coming towards you.
We twist and turn our way to Pergola, the little town above Amalfi town that we are staying in, and see the familiar Florida Market- where we always buy our lunch supplies- fresh bread and tomatoes, olives and Pecorino cheese. We make our way to the Grand Excelsior- our home 6 times now when we stay in Amalfi. We drive in and feel at home, recognizing the staff and the space and breathing because we’re finally here.
When you walk out onto your deck at this hotel, about 795 feet above the sea level below- you instantly get dizzy. The height doesn’t seem like something you should feel outside of a plane. The cars below are specks….and the deck you are standing on is jetted out beyond the roads below like its being hoisted by ropes from the sky. After 6 times here I’m not nervous- mostly….until about 3 in the morning- that’s when the anxiety kicks in….what if……could it happen….. your mind can really get away with crap in the dark at that hour.
But for now dinner is the main thought- where and when. We decide to eat at the hotel- they have great authentic italian food and great service, and we’d like to see our old friends- assess how they are since covid. So we unpack, and get dressed for dinner after a nice bottle of Amalfi wine on the deck. We have side by side rooms with balconies. So we meet at the partition between the rooms, a waist high wall- the Muppet lounge- and drink slowly. Smiles all around-reminding ourselves how we would have killed or died to be at this exact spot for the past 3 years- noting how it’s the same and completely different at the same time-the rocks haven’t changed, but the masks are new. The gratitude of those we have met is even more sincere- a desperation I would hope on no one. A human connection that wasn’t there before- a shared trauma that is humbling and haunting-the little ones will be reminded of this in the years to come, like our great-grandmothers obsession with eating everything on your plate- handshakes will be sacred after this.
We go down for dinner and get our regular view. The sea in the front, Amalfi town to the left and Positano to the right. The waitress is new, but Giovani the waiter is our old friend- the lowering of mask for recognition, and hugs with “how did you make out during covid” questions answered all around- our embarrassment shows as we remember we didn’t fair too badly- him explaining that “our governement treated us badly”. We have a second of heads down for the devastation that was wreaked on this area- heartbreak at the pain behind our friends eyes. But he is upbeat and so happy to see us that the passing of time is almost as painful- the reminder that time heals all, and ages us at the same time.
Dinner is handmade pasta, fresh fish catches from today. Their best cheeses, and a wine recommendation. Desert is a lemon tart and lemoncello on the house. Old friends happy to indulge each other. Celebration and happiness.
Back to our rooms for muppet lemoncello continuance and a few rum and cokes before we sleep in this mountain side perch for the night. The sky here is always blue and lit up. I’m not sure how we do it (nicole claims she arranges it) but we always have a full moon when we’re here. Every. Dang. Time.. even when we were here with mom and dad a few years back at a completely different time of year. It shines so bright you could read by it.
The doors are swung open and we sleep with the sounds of the birds and dogs. The ocean below. The heavens very close above- and we begin to wonder if we didn’t die on that flight to Vernase in India- this all seeming too good to be true…fireworks are put off at the dock below right on cue- as if they read our minds- exploding with happy and contentment.
We get up early the next morning for a hike into Amalfi Town proper. But first, paint. I paint while I enjoy my morning coffee and dry off from my shower.
But yes, then a hike, So to clarify- this one is sanctioned and one I’ve been looking forward to it. Its all down hill mostly- we have to walk up a little to get to the trail-to Gerrys pub (more on that later) , and then its all wide steps for the 850 feet to the sea through lemon groves and wild flowers. We wear our cute shoes, so we lesson the likelyhood of nicole making us mountain goat it up the stairs once we get down. The steps are wide to accommodate the working donkeys (and the random Karens) that walk up and down them to get sand and rock from the bottom to the top for home repairs- which makes it perfect for us. A step down and then a few steps on level to the next step down, . We stop at the point where we can see the sea and enjoy a bottle of wine we bought in Tuscany- ear marked for this exact thing. Sometimes when you do the things you’ve dreamed about for a long time there are no words, so mostly we just sit an look out over the water and the town- nicole and I laughing at something I can’t write, Gary and chris exchanging a roll of the eye and then a wink- yeah. Their all ours.
After 500 steps or so we arrive at the top of Amalfi town and start the descend into the abyss…. There is a cruise ship docked so we know we will quickly lose this comforting quiet. But its all ours for an hour or so….meandering through the upper shops- the local shops. Antique sellers and leather makers- all sad at one point that the leather shop I bought my vintage louis vuitton in 10 years back is gone- we had the owner dead and buried-a romantic story of covid in Italy…until we realize we are in the wrong place and he is actually still kicking! Prices have risen, but he is still there, pounding on cow hide and making his perfect purses and belts-grunting in perfect italian.
We take a breath and head into the fray- towards the cruise ship passengers and the gold- the tchotchkes and spices, floaty Italian linen and lemoncello. Its about to get very peoplely. But its well worth it. I’m on the hunt for the burchetta mix and prosecco of my Italian dream from years gone by. And I find them, finely tuned shopping senses hard at work.
And this is when Chris tops Nicole for the worst comment of the trip…not sure he knows I watched the Sporano’s…and we are headed to Sicily next. We walk into a shop and I find a sweater in XXL…perfect for me. Chris comes over and goes “ Oh YEAH!! That one is HUGE!!! You should get it…..”. I give him the look a snake gives a mouse before it nose dives in for the kill. And he thinks hes saving the moment when he says “NO!! For YOU!! Not for me!!” realizing that he’s gotten 3 hoodies already and worried he thinks I assumed he meant another for him.
W
O
W
I am making a mental list of all the ways he’s going to pay for that one. And he realizes he should just roll over and give in- opens his wallet and gives me his black AmEX and walks me to the art store across the street. This one will hurt.
I don’t’ get the sweater, but the handmade watercolor paper I buy will accumulate a fair amount of interest while he’s trying to work overtime to pay for it when we get back. I leave the tent sweater for another large family to use for warmth.
We shop our way to the dock, enjoy a piece and pizza and grab a couple small bottles of prosecco on the way. Stop for a pee break in a small ally way where the keeper of the toilette sings while we pee. No joke, she sings Ole Sol le Mio while we pee- its adorable. We can all hear her from the bathrooms. She’s about 85? 87? And actually has a nice voice. I don’t think I’ll be able to pee any other way now. Then it’s a gelato break with booze sitting at the dock while we wait for the hotel car back. We watch the italian version of water soccer- where they are in kayaks and use the paddles to put the balls in nets while beating each other about the helmeted head. Its very strange.
We get our tickets to Capri for tomorrow on a ferry. We will go for the day- picnic supplies in tow.
Tonight we decide we will eat at Gerry’s pub-the one I talked about earlier- at the top of our town with a view of the mountain side and authentic italian homemade food. We have a muppet wine break and a nap and then off we go- about a 15 minute walk up our street towards the tippy top of town. We share a pizza for an appie with a vat of house red, and then our Canadian takes over and we take our chances on a homemade burger and fries. And we are not disappointed! It is perfection. Cooked perfectly with lots of bacon and cheese….the best hands down burger I’ve ever had. Who’d have thunk it? Once dinner is finished we head back to the hotel, stopping for gelato on the way- Gary finding a cat at the gelato place of course. Owners tell us her name is Felicia- she’s about 6 months old. Out come the treats (to the utter shock of the shop owners) and they are both in love. If there was spaghetti near by I’m sure they’d share a plate “lady and the tramp style”- no word on which would be which. I swear he purrs all the way back to our rooms.
The nightly rum and run down. Back to bed to fall asleep staring at the full moon, glowing blue sky and water from rooms.
Early rising the next morning we go to grab breakfast before our ferry to Capri. When we arrive we sit on the deck- overlooking Amalfi and the calm water. We go to order and the waitress tells us that they are making crème filled donuts on demand this morning. A chef in hat and all is standing next to us with all the ingredients and while I hyperventilate in anticipation he starts- pouring the batter, putting it in the fryer…then taking it out and dipping it in cinnamon sugar, and filling it with crème. Serves it to us hot, and we dig in. I think my moaning drowned out the crispy crunch as Hubs tore into it. My god. I will remember that donut for the rest of my life. It was heaven. And we order breakfast and then once its done, ask for another while the waitress laughs at our excitement.
Off to Capri we board our boat, settle ourselves in the perfect seats at the top deck and wait to leave, pop the bottle of red open. The people sitting next to us are in AWE. Canadians too they are disappointed by their lack of representation of what it truly means to be canadian…. Calling us professionals. Well, yeah. Hello. The Captain comes to the top of the boat half way to Capri (making us wonder who the heck is driving the boat???) and makes a big show of opening a bottle of Prosecco and lemon cello and mixing it with crushed ice- serving us Lemon sprizzers while we watch Capri come into view. Few things deserve a champagne starter….mount Everest did- being served champagne as it came into view on our flight around it in Napal- and Capri does apparently. It is breathtaking with its 2 water peaks and mountains, turquoise water and striped umbrellas lining the beaches.
Off the boat we head for a market, and some lunch supplies from an OVERLY flirtly shop owner- offering Nicole and I to stay at his home for the night and “enjoy some local lemoncello and each other”….wide eyed we back out of the shop……I tell him we’re sisters….he says “even better….”. wow. So this is capri….
We head to the beach for a picnic and step over hot bodies and kids playing in the surf until we find our perfect spot- with an unobstructed view of the coast, light blue water and lava rock. Make our sandwiches and devour them…I wonder if the shop keeper would feel the same with us covered in mayo guzzling beer like professional boxers? Chris too hot for the beach- fried up like yesterdays bacon. Once the sandwiches are gone, nicole and gary settle in for a nap and chris and I decide to go to the funicular for a view of the entire city- It takes you up the side of the mountain to the boujee side of Capri- the tippy top…Gucci and jewelry stores. I find a clock store for a quick purchase (1:47 etched on the face -IYKYK) and then we head back to town to pick nicole and gary up at the beach for the trip back to Amalfi- a new bottle of wine in tow for the trip back. Off to the boat after a little more shopping- and we all fall asleep on the top deck- the cool air blowing our hair and the sun beating down with the rocking of the boat and we might as well have been roofied. We are all out like a light with dreams of leamoncello and mountian side decks, chianti and olives…realizing upon waking that its reality, and pinching ourselves in disbelief.
Off the boat and up to our room, tonight we will dine at the hotel- Gnocchi in the cards for me- I’ve been dreaming about it. A beautiful bottle of Amalfi coast wine- strong and red- fork and knife wine. Another lemon dessert and a round of lemoncello. I get notification that TERRY DUVAL liked one of my painting posts (he is my painting hero- mostly paris paintings- so real they look like photos- I’d kill or die to paint like him) and Sammarco wineries has shared a pic I posted of their wine at the base of amalfi town. My life is complete-my online hero’s sharing my art and life- what??
Back to bed for tomorrows relaxing day…we have decided that no adventures are necessary tomorrow. Just relaxation. Tuesday we are off to Sicily, so tomorrow is a much needed nothing day and we are just as excited about it as the adventure days past.
Up when ever we wake in the morning, and down for breakfest- then off to the pool for the morning. We meet Guseppi and his pregnant wife- or Gus Gus as we decide to call him. He chats with us everytime he walks by- buying drinks for us and offering his home in Venice the next time we come. My god the italians are friendly- and desperate for connection.- and we feel that in our bones…desperate for the same, and the muppets who are usually solitary animals, find ourselves entertaining him and his wife- making fast friends with this family from the other side of the world. We’ve been in it together eh? Even though not at all. I think Covid will bring us closer together even though it spread us so far apart. Maybe there’s a silver lining here? He explains he lost his mom to Covid with a tear in his eye- and even though on no level as brave, we find we all have war stories like they did back In the 20’s and 50’s- bonded together by our own traumas and fears- brothers and sisters in arms-sick of the war, damaged by its rampage-ready for a new future, never the same again. Restored faith in people, even with hesitation of infection, fear of closeness. What effect will this have on our future? The furfure of our children? More afraid? More hungry for the connection? Time will tell.
We watch the sunset on another Amalfi day- impossibly beautiful- heartbreakingly fragile, and yet strong like steal. Mixed messages, just the ones we yearn for- our favorite. If travel doesn’t confuse you and make you face your demons, you’re doing it wrong- and we make a pact to do it right every year, to be as comfortably uncomfortable as we can- and we feel a little more normal in our own skin then we did last year and the year before. Suckers for the punishment because it makes us more thankful and comfortable then we can feel at home. I don’t think we could be more thankful then we are tonight- until we go to Gerry’s pub for supper and he offers his lasagna- made today- “the best in Italy”. And he might just be right. It’s the kind of lasagna that makes you thankful to be alive. And he knows. Winking as we order it.
Wine and laughs. I catch Nicole taking a mental snapshot…the look on her face that you get when you want something written in your memory…your listening but your floating above it- taking it all in and committing it to memory- fodder for future- a memory you’ll think of in your last moments, because it was one of your happiest…and now I’m doing the same..then Chris, then Gary. Silence falling over the Muppets. A sip of wine to seal it up. And then a walk back to the hotel, a stop to see Felcia (Gary’s side chick)…home to pack. Tomorrow we head to Sicily- a completely new adventure for Chris and I- Old hat for Gary and Nicole who visited a few years back. We have rented a house on a cliff overlooking Mount Etna- Europes highest active volano—but it was online…so who knows how this will turn out…..
Zero hour- 9am….the flight is taking off from Naples- so we have to get all this crap to that airport, and on a plane for the 45 minute flight to the island off italy’s coast- and the next chapture of this adventure awaits. BRING IT. We’re primed and ready.