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The Secret To Italian Style – Fare La Bella Figura

“The Creator made Italy from designs by Michelangelo.”
Mark Twain


Have you ever wondered what is the secret to Italian style? How Italians manage stilettos on cobblestones or how they look chic and elegant at all times? After moving to Italy I discovered the secret to Italian style. The secret to Italian style is more than just dressing well. Looking good is a cultural norm learned from birth. In Italy, one learns from an early age the importance of fare la bella figura.

Italian style. A quintessential Italian woman dressed elegantly.
The quintessential Italian woman. Stylish and elegant. Photo credit: https://www.walksofitaly.com/blog/how-to/what-italians-wear-in-spring

 

FARE LE BELLA FIGURA | A GOOD FIRST IMPRESSION

Fare la bella figura” literally means ‘to make a beautiful figure.’ The phrase refers to the Italian ideal of looking your best at all times, making a good impression and is at the core of the secret to Italian style. For this casual Californian, this concept may be the biggest challenge that I faced living in Italy.  Northern Italy is the home of Milano, the seat of fashion houses and world famous designers. People are stylish there.

After moving to Italy, I was jet lagged and coming down off of an emotional roller coaster of a year. I was unaccustomed to humidity and was sopping wet every time I stepped outside.

There I was the first day of school in Italy, bedraggled, exhausted, and definitely not stylish. I hadn’t felt the need to dress up for the ten minute walk to school when I was just going home to unpack dirty, dusty boxes. I felt good about myself that I had managed to brush my hair, put on some makeup, and don my fancy Taryn Rose flip flops.

I arrived at my children’s school. I looked at all the Italian mothers and thought “uh oh.”  Not only were they thin and physically beautiful, they were stylish in an understated elegant way. Northern Italian women don’t wear a lot of makeup. They don simple, high quality, finely tailored clothes. They wear dresses, skirts and lots and lots of stilettos. And boots – year round. And scarves – year round.  I stood on the sidewalk, hair in a ponytail, wearing California athleisure wear and flip flops. Needless to say, I stood out like a sore thumb.

MUSINGS AND OBSERVATIONS | HOW DO THEY DO IT?

I pondered the secret to Italian style. Was the secret to Italian style simply having enough money to buy the best clothes? Was the secret to Italian style some special hair product that stopped your head from sweating all day long and looking like one just got out of the shower? I was determined to find out the secret to fare la bella figura.

I had a conversation with my English friend Diana about the Italian women’s seemingly effortless style. Diana noted that if you went to the supermarket in England dressed like an Italian woman does, everyone would think, “what is she trying to prove?”  I thought about how people would react if you showed up at Safeway in stilettos, a dress, a scarf – Diana was right.  Americans too would think you were putting on airs. The only reason you would wear high heels to the supermarket in America was if you were on your way to or from work or an event. In Italy, however, it a common occurrence.

I will admit, from my California perspective, it seems like a lot of work to get dressed up just to run to the supermarket, go to the gym, or walk the kids to school. But dress up Italians do. I was no longer in California and if I didn’t want to stand out I was going to have to make some changes. Wearing exercise clothes on the street is just not done in Italia, and flip flops (my shoe of choice in California) are reserved for the pool or the health club.  If I continued my disregard for la bella figura, I may offend someone or at the very least confuse them.  My American friend Sarah told me that once she went out in her “tuta” or her exercise suit with no makeup. She ran into her landlady who promptly contacted Sarah’s Italian in-laws to inquire if Sarah was feeling ill since she had been out of the house looking so casual.  In Italy, being ill is the only excuse for failing fare la bella figura.

LESSON NUMBER ONE | KNOW THY SELF

The first week I sat back and observed. I saw one woman ride up to school on her bicycle in a tight pencil skirt, gorgeous blouse and stilettos. There was a light summer rain. She rode her bicycle while holding an umbrella, one child on the back of her bike and another in the front.  She arrived, floated off of her bike, got the kids out of their seats, grabbed her Louis Vuitton bag and glided into school. Not a hair out of place. I watched – mouth agape. She couldn’t be a real mother of two small children. She looked like a super model. I looked around for a film crew. This had to be fake.

The one thing that stood out to me was her air of confidence. She was comfortable in her own skin.

So, first on the list toward achieving Italian style – feeling confident that you look good and not caring what others think. Now this seems to be incongruent with the concept of fare la bella figura, but it is not. Putting your best face forward means different things to different people. As long as you carry yourself with the confidence of an Italian woman in stilettos on a 1,000 year cobblestone street, all will be fine.

LESSON NUMBER TWO | KNOW THY PRODUCTS

I soon came to accept that not only are Italian women stylish, they don’t seem to be affected by weather. Italian women’s hair is never out of place. The weather wreaks havoc on my hair regularly. In the summer the humidity leaves my body and head wet and it renders my hair a wet, frizzy, wonky mess. In the spring, the pollen makes my eyes water and my nose run constantly leaving me looking like W.C. Fields. The wet winter rain and fog makes my eyes water resulting in black raccoon eyes from runny mascara. And again, my hair becomes a frizzy wonky mess. Why don’t Italian women suffer as I do? Is it genetics? How do they do it?

The second lesson on achieving Italian style, know your hair and powder your face. There are a number of hairstyles that one can wear to combat the weather and a number of hair products that can tame the wildest of manes.  One thing that I noticed is that it is not uncommon for Italian women to don a scarf on their heads while they are traveling. Think Sofia Loren in a convertible on the Amalfi coast. A headscarf can be tied around your hair to protect it from the weather, and then upon arrival, it can be stylishly tied around your neck, shoulders or handbag.

Also, one Italiana informed me that one simply must invest in a high quality face powder to ensure that your makeup does not melt off. And carry face blotting towelettes.

LESSON NUMBER THREE | COMMIT

Fare la bella figura is not limited to young women either. I have seen many an older Italian woman doddering along, holding on to her companion for support in stilettos! Stilettos! They can barely walk anymore, but damn it if they aren’t going to look good. I will admit that I have yet to attain this level of fare la bella figura.

Lesson number three on achieving Italian style, you are never too old to care about how you look. The third secret to Italian style – commit to fare la bella figura for life.

The older women also love their hats, fur coats, scarves and handbags. I particularly like to watch the older ladies during the Christmas season as Italians dress up to do their Christmas shopping. At the beginning of December, the older Italian women put on their finest attire as they stroll around the main piazza and shopping streets showing off their coats, hats and handbags  It is a far different atmosphere than the images you see of people clawing and fighting over items at WalMart.  This is a slow, deliberate shopping experience.  A chance to show off your best face.

Another difference between Italy and the USA, no one in Italy is afraid of PETA. Fur and leather abound, particularly among the older crowd. Fur hats, fur coats, fur trimmed scarves, fur lined leather gloves, fur lined leather boots, leather pants, and leather skirts are commonplace.

LESSON NUMBER FOUR | TEACH THY STUDENTS WELL

Lesson number four on achieving Italian style, teach the males in your life the importance of fare le bella figura as well. Italian women are not alone in pursuing la bella figura. Italian men spend an equal amount of time on their appearance. Italian men’s clothes are often tailored. It is unusual to see baggy clothes on men here. Italian men also wear sweaters quite a bit. Not just pullover sweaters, but cardigans. And they like to roll up the cuffs of their pants, jeans, shorts.  Italian men wear scarves as often as women do and they pay a lot of attention to their shoes. They also carry bags made of beautiful leather – or what we would call a man purse, a ‘murse.’

Older men frequently wear suits, bow ties, fedoras, and a scarf. They dress this way all the time – just to go to the post office or the vegetable market.  And where the Italian women tend to be understated, Italian men have a flair for bold style. They are not afraid to wear colors and patterns. Lord knows they love a brightly colored pant.

I have observed the Italians for over three years now. I will admit that while I have learned a thing or two, I am still amazed at how they pull off la bella figura every single day. They make being stylish and elegant look effortless and easy. I still cannot navigate cobblestones in stilettos and I still do not dress up to run to the supermarket across the street, but, I have improved. I no longer wear flip flops.

Fare la bella figura is part of the Italian culture. It is expected, and I have come to appreciate it. The attention to style makes one feel a bit better when you are out and about. And it makes for great people watching.

The Italian author Beppe Severgnini summed it up best. “Being Italian is a full-time job. We never forget who we are, and we have fun confusing anyone who is looking on.”


The photos of Italian style are not my own. I got these off of the internet because it is not good form to take photos of strangers, but I assure you that I have seen some version of each of these outfits on a regular basis.

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Italian Liqueurs | Day Drinking In Italy: The Italian White Russian.

ITALIAN LIQUEURS ARE NECESSARY | Our First Winter In Italy

Our first winter living in Italy was brutal. Snow for months.  My husband and I were snowbound, watching the movie, The Big Lebowski and dreaming of White Russians to keep us warm. A White Russian is a lovely concoction comprised of vodka, cream, and coffee flavored liqueur, Kahlua. The drink features prominently in the movie. Unfortunately, while Kahlua is very popular in the USA, it was impossible to find in Italy. Literally impossible. Our Big Lebowski dreams were shattered.

Then one day my husband walked in from work with a look on his face like a little boy with a frog in his pocket. He excitedly pulled out a bottle of Borghetti, a coffee based Italian liqueur. White Russians were back on the menu. And, we quickly realized that the regional Italian liqueurs, well, they are necessary to survive winter.

White Russian cocktail on the bar stand on rubber mat.
The classic White Russian cocktail. Photo credit: iStock Photos.

Now, after 2 or 3 White Russians,  you’d think that we would have been out cold. I am an insomniac, but my husband can literally sleep anywhere, at any time. Yet this night, no sleep was to be had. No sheep were being counted. At about 3:00 a.m., we were both wide awake with the edgy energy that only high amounts of caffeine have ever given me. We tossed. We turned. We tried to figure out why my husband couldn’t sleep. Eventually, it dawned on us to look at the Borghetti bottle.

ITALIAN INGREDIENTS | Hint, They Are Sticklers For Natural, Pure Ingredients. 

There it was right on the front of the bottle, “di vero caffe espresso.”  Arrgh. Our excitement had made us foolhardy. While Kahlua is a coffee “flavored” liqueur, Borghetti is made with pure espresso.  Italians do not believe in artificial ingredients. Not even in their liqueurs. We had essentially consumed 3 espressos each before bedtime.

ITALIAN COFFEE | Borghetti, Not Suitable For Evening

We concluded that Borghetti is only suitable for day drinking. Borghetti is a day drink because one cannot drink it in the evening and expect to get any sleep. If Borghetti bested my sleep connoisseur husband, a normal person doesn’t stand a chance. 

Borghetti is delicious. I like it even better than Kahlua. It has less of a sugary taste and more of a strong coffee flavor. So the conundrum. The stuff is tasty but there is no way we can drink after 12:00 noon and how many times a year does one sit around drinking during the daytime? Hum . . . when could we consume this lovely liqueur?

We decided that Borghetti is the perfect Christmas morning drink. A little Borghetti in with some cream and Nat King Cole singing Christmas carols is a pretty damn near perfect way to start your day.

Two Christmas gnomes with a bottle of Borghetti.
The Italian liqueur, Borghetti. The necessary ingredient for an Italian Christmas White Russian.

ITALIAN RECIPES | The Italian White Russian

Despite the name, the White Russian was not invented in Russia. I suspect that the alleged inventor so named it due to the inclusion of vodka, but I have no proof (pun intended) of that.

Legend has it that Gustave Tops, a Belgian bartender, not a Russian, created the cocktail in 1949 at the Hotel Metropole in Brussels. The drink was quite popular initially and eventually spread across the globe. In the USA, the concoction hit the height of its popularity in the 1970s. Today, not too many people drink them and it is considered a retro cocktail.

Our recipe adds a new twist with the addition of the espresso liqueur. In our house, we have cross pollinated 2 cultures and now our cocktail’s official moniker is Il Russo Bianco di Natale Italiano or the Italian Christmas White Russian.  

Makes one drink:

  1. 2 oz vodka.
  2. 1 oz Borghetti
  3. 1/2 oz whole milk or heavy cream.
  4. Ice.

Buon Natale a Tutti!

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The Most Popular Game In The World

Football match in Italy. Parma vs. Inter Milan
Italian football match. Parma vs. Inter Milan

Italian Passion

Italians are a passionate bunch in general, and their passion for life can be triggered on a dime. Amazingly though, they also seem to make up with one another right away. I have seen them yelling and screaming at each other, faces reddened, spittle flying, arms waving and then shake hands and walk away five minutes later. Given this passionate culture, I was eager to attend a football match because one thing that Italians are very passionate about is football, the most popular game in the world.  You know, what we Americans call soccer.

Football, The Most Popular Game In The World

We decided to support our local football team and we went to watch Parma play against Inter Milan. I was a tad nervous because my husband had warned me that when Parma scores the crowd goes a little crazy – their passions are unfurled with yelling, screaming, shoving, running up and down the stands. Joe was actually knocked over at the last game he went to. He was not hurt, but that knowledge made me anxious as neither my daughter, nor I, do well in crowds. I was also anxious because Inter Milan was ranked fifth and Parma was ranked sixth, so tensions were indeed high. Ultimately. my desire to experience Italy to its fullest won out over my fear. We donned our blue and yellow and headed out to the stadium.

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Upon arriving, I noticed that there is no alcohol allowed at an Italian soccer game. Now, bear in mind that Italy is a place where one can find a full bar just about everywhere – the park, the movie theater, the shopping mall, the gym. But not at a football stadium. I have to say, that I support this practice.  I think it is a wise idea to prohibit alcohol at sporting events where passion and loyalties are on overdrive. One of my dear friends in California is a sweet, gentle guy unless you encounter him at the UCLA/USC football game. Then, he is a rabid dog. Give him some beer at the UCLA/USC game and he is a rabid bear. It may be a good thing for America to follow the Italian example in this case.

Something else that I noticed was that even stone cold sober, Italian fans are INTENSE about, and loyal to, their football team.  One of our Italian friends welcomed his second daughter into the world on the morning of the game that we attended, but he still made it to the match that afternoon!

Warning – Foul Language Ahead

The intense loyalty that they feel for their team is most often manifested by hurling insults at the other team. Through the entire game, Parma fans were chanting “Inter, Inter, vaffanculo, vaffanculo!” which literally translates as “Inter, Inter, up your a**,” but is used more as Americans use f^%k you.  Imagine half of a stadium chanting “f^%k you!”  Here were some of the antics I was hoping to experience.

Italians are a poetic people. They value the poetry of their art, food, fashion and language.  Given this love of language, a simple vaffanculo would not suffice and the fans occasionally intermixed the vaffanculo’s  with the chanting of an Inter Milan player’s name and then “pezzo di merda.”  As in, for example, “Zanetti piece of shit.”  They also broke into song once or twice singing along to the tune of Guantanamera but replacing the Guantanamera with “pezzo di merda” and then a player’s name so that the tune went something like this – “ pezzo di merda. Zanetti, pezzo di merda. ♪♪ peeeezzzzzo di merdaaa, ♫ Zanetti, pezzo di merda.”  Again, imagine a huge crowd all swearing together in song. Fascinating and entertaining stuff, I tell you.

The most perplexing expression of loyalty for me, however,  was the yelling of “cinesi vai via!”  or “non ci sono cinesi in Italia!”   This translates as “Chinese go away” and “There are no Chinese in Italy.” As factually incorrect, and as racially insensitive, as these comments were, the funny thing to me is that they were yelling these insults at Inter Milan player Yuto Nagatomo . . . who is Japanese.  I swear I saw Nagatomo looking around for the mysterious Chinese guy once or twice.

The final thing that I noticed about Italian football games is that the previously blogged about colpo d’aria – the dreaded hit of air – that Italians feel must be avoided at all times and at all costs for fear of ending up in the hospital –  seems to have a waiver for football matches.

Football match in Italy. Parma vs. Inter MilanFootball match in Italy. Parma vs. Inter Milan

During our game, for example, the weather was rainy and cold and yet scores of fans were without umbrellas or rain gear.  And quite a few were without shirts. In the rain! There they were, standing in the freezing rain, getting hit by air for 2+ hours and not a one seemed to be concerned that they were going to end up in the hospital.  Once again, questions arise in my American mind about the colpo d’aria malady.

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Alas, for Parma fans, despite their best insults and choral talent, Inter Milan won.  Parma didn’t score a single goal so I didn’t get to see the post score craze of happy fans that I craved.  And despite the racist epithets, Nagatomo dominated the field.  But, you know what they say . . . karma is a Japanese Inter Milan player.

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Do You Iron Your Jeans and Underwear? How To Do Laundry In Italy

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Ok. Each of you Americans out there – I want you to stop what you are doing and go hug your dryer.  Personally I never thought about my dryer before moving to Europe. It was just another appliance. There was the occasional story about a family whose house caught on fire due to too much lint in the vent, and I’d stop and think,”how awful” and “what a tragedy” and I would make a mental note to clean out my venting tube.  And then I’d forget about it again. Then we moved to Italy.In Italy, most people line dry their laundry.  Dryers are available, but we were told they are expensive to run since electricity is costly there.  It is not uncommon to see laundry hanging on lines outside apartments and houses.  It is also not uncommon to visit a friend’s home and see laundry drying in various places. It is not rude. It is simply a way of life. In fact, it is one of the things that Americans find charming when they visit. It can be beautiful and colorful. It evokes a simpler time. Days gone by. ​

When we first arrived in Italy and were in temporary housing Joe told me that the washing cycle took about 2 hours. I scoffed. Surely he must not have understood the instructions. Turns out, he understood better than I did. After all, he had been living there for 6 months.  The wash cycle at the temporary housing did indeed take 2 hours. Thus, when we were looking for a washing machine to buy, I wanted the largest load capacity that we could find. If it was going to take 2 hours per load I wanted to wash as many things as I could in one cycle.  And we found a big one! Unfortunately, it had to be returned. It was too big to fit up our narrow Italian stairs. Eventually, we found one that fit and could run a load in 1 hour.  We were making progress. We were fortunate enough to have a large laundry room so we had the space to line dry laundry out of sight.  And, there was the environmental impact. I knew that if you line dry your clothes HALF OF THE TIME you will save 1150 pounds of CO2 emissions . . .  the work of 23 trees!  I felt good about that. Plus, I was in Italy and as they say, “when in Rome” . . .  I was committed to line drying.

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What I didn’t realize is that depending on the season, clothes don’t always dry quickly. And, while the laundry room was large, it had no ventilation. In fact, many times the dampness of the laundry room left the clothes smelling musty and moldy and I would have to wash them all over again. I then had to place towels and jeans strategically on radiators all over the house since they take a particularly long time to dry. And all the other items in the living room in front of an open window – even when it was cold out – letting all the warm air escape.  So much for energy efficiency.

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In some cases, when you combined the length of time that it took to run a load of laundry, with hanging clothes, the actual drying process, then taking them off the hangers, then folding it and putting it away – one load of laundry would take up to three days from start to finish. I was constantly checking laundry. In the winter, if I had to rewash a load, it would be a 4 – 5 day process for each load.  We had a few mishaps.  “Mom, I am out of jeans to wear.”  Ooops. One cannot magically run a load of laundry and guarantee that they’d be dry overnight. Laundry became a strategy. A lifestyle.

While I did feel good about reducing our carbon footprint by line drying,* I grew weary of the process and the resulting crunchy clothing and towels. Italians have these big industrial sized steam irons they use to soften up crunchy clothes. Yup, they iron their towels, sheets, socks, underwear and jeans to make them soft again. The thing was, I was already spending a significant part of my day, every day, on laundry. I did not want to add steam ironing into the mix. Besides, after using a towel once or twice or wearing your jeans for a day, they soften up . . . a bit.

So anyway, imagine my delight when we moved into our house in Sweden and I went down to the basement and discovered that our rental included a dryer! ​​ I ran a load of laundry (30 minutes! Let’s hear it for Swedish efficiency!) and placed it in the dryer.

Now, calling it a dryer is a bit of a misnomer. It doesn’t dry the clothing with heated air producing fluffy warm clothes, towels and sheets. It works by spinning the clothes and wicking the water out into a container at the bottom of the machine. I set it for 90 minutes. I returned 90 minutes later only to realize it had not completed its cycle. The laundry was still soaking wet. I fumbled about trying to figure out why and realized that the machine stops once the container at the bottom is full of water. I emptied the container. The machine started up again. When I checked on it again 30 minutes later, again, the container was full and the cycle had once again stopped. I emptied the container and started the machine again.

This went on for about 3 more hours. I could have taken them out and just line dried them, however, at this point I was in the middle of an experiment. I wanted to find out how long this was going to take. The next morning (yes you heard me correctly) I set it for another 90 minutes. Surely, there could not be enough water left in the clothes to fill the container again. OMG! I was wrong. After 2 more 90 minute cycles including breaks for emptying the water container, the clothes were dry. That particular load took 30 hours start to finish. I guess 30 hours is better than 48 or 72. I don’t know if our dryer is an old crappy one or this is the norm, but I have now resigned myself to line drying the clothes and placing towels and jeans strategically on radiators again. I am back to saving the planet.

And while saving the planet feels good, I have a confession to make . . . truth be told, I miss being able to dry jeans, sweatshirts and towels in a heated wonderland. So my American brethren, heed my tale of woe. Go hug your dryer.  Clean its venting tube, its lint trap and wipe down the exterior. Treat it like the appliance it is.  And give it a kiss from me.

* http://www.simpleecology.com/eco/clothesline.html

 

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Secret Tuscany – The Thermal Baths of Saturnia

Locals Only

A few years ago some Italian friends told me about some natural thermal baths in Saturnia, Tuscany.  They explained that there was a famous spa one could go to, but that there was also a natural occurring, free version very near the expensive spa, “IF you can find it!”

You see, the trick was that the locals will not tell outsiders how to find the natural thermal baths as they don’t want the natural baths overrun with tourists.

Since we lived In Italy I figured we qualified as locals of sorts. I was determined to find the free thermal baths. Unfortunately, at that time, the natural baths were not part of the standard GPS menu. The only information that we had was that they were near the famed Terme di Saturnia Spa and Golf  Resort.  Armed with an old fashioned map, American grit and a stubborn streak, we set out to explore.

It was not easy to find. There were no signs and there are a multitude of country roads to chose from. I am nothing, if not persistent though, and eventually we found it.

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The kids and me in the front pool – Cascate del Mulino

After visiting Cascate del Mulino, I can see why the locals want to preserve this special place. Until now, I have never written about the baths out of respect for the local’s wish to keep it secret and special.  Today, good or bad, what the locals feared has come to pass and one can input the location on your GPS. Back then it was such a local secret that when we asked our hotel for directions and they gave us some vague instructions about the general direction to go. Today they advertise the baths on their website.

Two Very Different Experiences

Luxury

If nature is not your thing, rest assured that one has choices when visiting the thermal baths. The resort, Terme di Saturnia Spa and Golf Resort, offers golf, spa treatments, yoga, massage, restaurants and accommodation in addition to thermal baths. It looked amazing and relaxing. The atmosphere is pure luxury. Room rates start at 300 Euros a night.

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Photo Credit: Trip Advisor
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Photo Credit: Premium Europe

Rustic

In contrast, the natural (i.e. free) baths, Cascate del Mulino, just down the road, are the complete opposite. At the time that we visited there were no signs and we drove down many a dirt road searching for the mill.  The area is unattended by any staff.  There were no parking attendants, lifeguards or wait staff serving cocktails and sparkling water.  The area was unpaved and dusty. Nearer the mill and falls, it was quite gravely and the actual pools and falls were quite slippery. Water shoes are a must. 

The Legend

According to Italian lore the gods Saturn and Zeus were arguing about mortals’ penchant for fighting each other.

At some point during the argument, Zeus threw a lightening bolt (or a thunderbolt depending on who you ask) at Saturn (or at the mortals depending on who you ask).

The power of this lightening bolt went straight into the Earth and resulted in warm water gushing out, overflowing and enveloping the mortals. Essentially, Zeus gave the mortals a warm bath to calm them down. And it worked, the warm hot springs calmed the mortals, healed their ailments and generally made everyone happier. And it still works today.

The Healing Properties

Who wouldn’t want to heal themselves in waters divined by the gods?  These thermal waters have been in use by local Italians since the Etruscan and Roman period.  Natural pools have formed out of travertine as a result of 3,000 years of flowing water. The pools are perfectly formed and comfortable. The pools are so perfectly formed and smooth that my husband did not believe that they were naturally made.

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The water is a consistent 37.5 °C/99.5 °F which may seem like it would be too hot, but trust me, it is not. It was oh.so.nice. We visited in the spring and I couldn’t help thinking that visiting on a crisp autumn or winter evening would be heaven. 

The thermal water contains a myriad of minerals that offer healing powers.  A few of the minerals are sulfur, sulphate, sulfide, carbon, bicarbonate, hydrogen, alkaline, thermal plankton, and 2 gasses – hydrogen sulphide and carbon dioxide. The gases give off a rather pungent smell similar to hard boiled eggs.  We did not mind the smell, but I was told some people do not like it.

The minerals in the water have been used as a natural therapeutic spa since the the Etruscan and Roman periods. The waters were so revered that the Romans built thermal baths in many of the little villages surrounding the falls. Some of those baths still remain.

What can be cured by soaking in the thermal baths? All kinds of ailments including eczema, psoriasis, respiratory infections, and rheumatoid arthritis, to name a few.  The water is also said to detox the body, and improve circulation, cell oxygenation and immune function. For me, the simple relaxation it provided was enough. And an added bonus, the minerals left my skin feeling soft and supple.

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Monte Amiata.  Photo credit: gps-tour.info

The source of the incredible healing water begins at Monte Amiata. Monte Amiata is a dormant volcano, which despite its dormant status, still pumps in excess of  800 litres/211 gallons of water a second from its depths into the falls. The water begins 200 meters/656 feet below the earth and is heated by the thermal activity of the dormant volcano. I am not a geologist. I admit that I don’t understand how a dormant volcano is still generating this much heat and hydraulics, but, who cares why. I am just glad it does. 

Practicalities

  • Parking is limited.  Many people park along the road and in fact that was how we ended up finding the place. There is one small car park at the end of the access road, however, it was jammed packed with cars so don’t count on finding a place.
  • Never leave valuables in your car.
  • Water shoes – you must take water shoes. Not only for your comfort on the rocky shore, but for safety in the slippery pools.
  • The usual bathing suits, towels, a sun umbrella, and sun screen, but you may also want to bring a change of clothes as your bathing suit will smell of sulphur after you get out. Changing occurs under the cover of your towel – again, this is a no frills natural spa and it is Italy where people don’t get hung up about changing on the beach, etc.
  • Food – bring a picnic, snacks, fresh water, etc. as there is only a tiny snack bar that sells things like ice cream, but not a full service restaurant or store in the area. Also, what a fantastic place for a picnic!

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Accommodation

There are many hotels and B&B’s in the area. We stayed at the darling Relais Ciavatta in Maremma and I cannot recommend it more.

Relais Ciavatta offers beautiful Tuscan grounds,

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rooms with traditional Tuscan country decor,

an inviting pool,

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Photo credit: http://www.czemplik.com

a delicious restaurant on site, Osteria la Frasca,

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and amazing, friendly staff. One staff member in particular was very attentive and sweet. Luigi, the Jack Russell. 

Our day at Cascate del Mulino remains one of my most treasured memories of living in Italy. I like that we had to work to find it. It made it feel like a treasure at the end of a hunt. Like we had made it into the elite club of locals.

Cascate del Mulino is such a unique place that my heart is torn. I want to share it with others and yet, I really hope it does not end up developed and overrun with people. I am hoping that because the baths are a bit off the beaten path, the majority of tourists will not make the trek and the natural thermal baths may retain their natural allure. 

While I totally appreciate the spa with its services and luxurious treatments, for me, soaking in ancient, naturally carved pools, with the sound of waterfalls that have been flowing for over 3,000 years, the incredible Tuscan countryside all around me, was an experience of a lifetime.

Americans abroad · aperitivo · European travel · ex-pat life · international travel · Italian food · Italy · parmigiano-reggiano · Prosciutto di Parma · Travel

The Classic Italian Summer Cocktail – The Aperol Spritz

Orange drink in wineglass.

Italian summers are hot. And humid. Some days it feels as if you are melting. So one needs a refreshing drink to get by. And that is where the classic Italian summer cocktail – the Aperol Spritz comes in.

Aperol is an Italian apéritif (aperitvo in Italian) made of bitter orange, gentian, rhubarb, and cinchona among other ingredients. Ok, seriously does anyone know what gentian or cinchona are? I didn’t. So I looked them up. Gentian is a cute little purple flower. Technically it is an herb from the alps, that is commonly used as a digestive aid.  Cinchona, also known as quina, is also a medicinal plant from South America. How it found its way into an Italian drink I have no idea.

Aperol was originally produced by the Barbieri company, based in Padua, but is now produced by the Campari company. While Aperol was originally created in 1919, it did not become successful until after World War II.

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Photo credit: Campari.com

It is funny to me that the Campari company bought Aperol since the two drinks taste so  similar to me.  I guess they wanted to eliminate the competition. While they are similar in taste, Aperol has half the alcohol content of Campari.

Speaking of taste, Aperol tastes both bitter and citrusy at the same time. And orange is both the predominant color and flavor.

The classic Aperol Spritz cocktail is a combination of Aperol and Prosecco. Truth be told, I took a long time to warm up to The Spritz. I do no like anything to sully my Prosecco and the bitterness of the Aperol was an acquired taste for me. Now that I have acquired the taste however, I really enjoy it on a hot summer day.

While popular in Italy, the Spritz was not an international drink until the last 6 years or so when hipsters started drinking them in New York, London and San Francisco.
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If you fancy yourself a hipster or just like a refreshing drink on hot summer days, here are two recipes to try:

Classic Aperol Spritz

Fill wine glass with about three ice cubes
Fill glass 2/3 with Prosecco
Add 1/3 Aperol
Add a slice of orange

Modern Aperol Spritz

Fill wine glsss with about three ice cubes
Fill glass 2/3 with Prosecco
Add 1/3 Aperol
Add a slice of orange
Add a shot of gin
Add a splash of soda water

Pair with some Prosciutto di Parma, Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, mostardo and olives and you have a fine aperitvo on hand. Or you could try your hand at this recipe.

Buon appetito a tutti!

Americans abroad · Bologna Italy · Emilia Romagna · ex-pat life · Italian food · Italy · Parma Italy · parmigiano-reggiano · Prosciutto di Parma

Prosciutto With Black Truffles and Truffle Mustard Dressing

This appetizer is so simple and so full of flavor you may end up serving it at every party you have from here on out!

The Recipe

Ingredients
4 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
3 tbsp apple cider vinegar
1 tsp truffle mustard or dijon mustard
6 thin slices fresh black truffle, finely chopped
Salt and pepper
8 small slices ciabatta
1 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil (for brushing)
4 slices prosciutto
Small salad leaves, your choice
8 thin slices of fresh black truffle

Method
Make dressing first by mixing 4 tbsp olive oil, cider vinegar, mustard and finely chopped truffl e. Season with salt and mix well. Preheat oven to 160C. Brush ciabatta bread pieces with 1 tbsp of olive oil and toast lightly in oven for 8-10 minutes.

Meanwhile, cut each prosciutto slice in half to obtain eight pieces. Once toasted, remove ciabatta pieces and, while still hot, place a piece of prosciutto on each and nestle on serving plate with small salad leaves. Drizzle with truffle dressing and finish with a truffle slice on each crostini. Add a couple of turns of pepper over the lot and serve.

Thank you to http://www.goodfood.au for the recipe.

Americans abroad · ex-pat life · Italy · Parma Italy · Travel

“Toto, I’ve A Feeling We’re Not In Kansas Anymore.”

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Today my poor daughter did what I long to do most days. She burst into tears when the tutor asked her what the correct article was for her sentence in Italian.

I have always loved words.  I like reading. I like researching the origin of words. I like learning about colloquialisms. I like learning the difference between a colloquialism and an idiom.  I like to keep lists of words that appeal to my ear.  Words like verdant, flummoxed, phalanges and evanescent.

About a hundred years ago I took a year and a half of French. I was young, I never studied and I rarely paid attention.  Not surprising then, that my French didn’t stick.  Living in California I picked up a smattering (another favorite word) of Spanish – you know, enough to order food and beer and find a bathroom when needed, but I have always felt as if there were a hole in my education because I don’t speak another language other than English.

So, imagine my delight when I learned we were moving to another country where I could immerse myself in another language – a beautiful Romance language no less.  I was naive enough to think it would be easy.  I thought, “First I’ll learn Italian since we will be living there. Then I’ll learn French because the kids are learning it and I certainly don’t want my teenagers to have a whole other language that they can communicate in that my husband and I do not understand. And, besides France will be so close and its a Romance language too so how hard can it really be?” HA!

It has been a year and I still don’t speak Italian, let alone French!  I can get around, I can order food in a restaurant. I have simple conversations with shopkeepers, but I am frustrated at how long it is taking me to really learn Italian.

Learning a new language at age 49 is very difficult for my old brain. Il mio cervello e’ stanco e anziano.  I had always heard (from other Americans) that, “English is one of the hardest languages to learn.” My experience, and discussions with people who speak English as a second or third language does not bear that out, however.  The people in my Italian class and our European friends all tell us that English is simple. In English the articles do not change very often (a, an, the) and our verbs do not change for every person as they do in Romance languages. Granted, English pronunciations and spelling are difficult, but our grammar is relatively simple.

Italian verbs change for every person (I, you, he/she, we, us, you guys, them) that you are speaking of or about. And they have a separate verb tense if you being polite. There are so many articles I need charts and graphs to remember them all. And, there seems to be an exception for every grammar rule that I learn.

I also discovered that Italians don’t believe in silly rules. Rules are mere suggestions.  When I asked a friend  why the grammar rule that I just memorized didn’t apply, her answer was “because it is more poetic to say it this way.”  Now I have to think about the poetry of the language too?   Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.

Americans abroad · Emilia Romagna · European travel · ex-pat life · Parma Italy · Travel

L’Onda

Life in a foreign land

Life In A Foreign Land

When adapting to a new life in a foreign land, I think Dame Judy Dench put it best:

“Initially, you are overwhelmed. But gradually you realize it’s like a wave. Resist and you’ll be knocked over. Dive into it and you’ll swim out the other side.  This is a new and different world. The challenge is to cope with it. And not just cope, but thrive.”

Dame Judi Dench
The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel

Americans abroad · Emilia Romagna · European travel · ex-pat life · Firenze Italia · Florence Italy · international travel · Italian food · Italy · Parma Italy · Travel

Guidos – Driving In Italy

Guidos – Driving In Italy

In the USA, a Guido is a slang (some would say pejorative) word for an Italian American.  In Italy, however, Guido is a boy’s name or when used as a verb it literally means “I drive.”

We had been in Italy for a week when my husband had a work conference in Florence.  Would the kids and I like to come along? School had not started yet. We could not move into our apartment yet and it was Florence, so Hell yeah!  The only hitch, Joe would be taking a bus with the other employees so I would have to drive the hour and half on my own with the kids or take the train. Since I spoke no Italian I figured driving would be easier than trying to buy train tickets, figure out schedules, etc.

Besides, I had been driving around Parma and back and forth to the local Ikea (pronounced hilariously to my children as ‘eee’ kay- yuh‘) with no problems. Plus, we had a GPS in the car.  How hard could it be?  It is only 1.5 hours away.  Driving to Florence was no problem!

Armed with the overconfidence that comes with 30 years of driving, we set out.

THE ITALIAN DRIVER

On the ride down I became acquainted with the Italian driver.

For a large portion of the autostrada (highway) between Parma and Florence, there are only two lanes. One lane is perpetually occupied by semi trucks.  Semi trucks which travel at a very high speed and get right up your bum.  Thus, the only option if you don’t want to be a semi sandwich is to go around them in the other lane.  This is an option equivalent to playing Russian Roulette.

Guidos - Driving in Italy

The cars travel at speeds far faster than the semi trucks.  They also drift across the entire autostrada paying no attention whatsoever to lane lines.  At first I thought they must be drunk they way they were swerving, but it was happening so often that I realized it was just the way they drive here.

Now, I am a responsible driver with my two precious kids in the car so I am going to drive responsibly. Apparently, driving responsibility is a personal affront to Italian drivers.  My driving habits bring on a host of activity from the Italians – honking, fist shaking, lights flashing, swerving to see if they can squeeze their car between me and the semi in the next lane.  At one point the driver behind me was so close to me that when I looked in my rear view mirror I could see the part in her hair.  I can still remember the pink hair clip she was wearing.

So after an hour and a half of pure white knuckle driving we arrived in Florence. Finally, I was going to park the car and relax.  Ha!  It took us 1.5 hours to get to Florence and another 2.5 to find the hotel.

Driving in Italy

The GPS kept trying to send me down one way streets or streets that were blocked off.  I was driving in circles and now the autostrada seemed like the bumper cars at the fair.  Imagine the same speed, drifting and erratic driving but now on ancient narrow streets with people and scooters added to the mix. And no where at all to stop or park.  The streets that I needed to get to the hotel were either blocked or too narrow for a car to fit.

After 1.5 hours of trying to find the hotel on my own, I was in the middle of a full blown, all out, screaming at the kids, nervous breakdown. I pulled over as best I could and simply stopped. I called Joe. He sweetly tried to help and offer suggestions over the phone from the bus. He called the hotel for me. I cried and screamed at him. He didn’t understand how awful it was.

WHEN IN ROME . . . OR FLORENCE

Through my tears I noticed a crowd of police men and women directing traffic. Surely they could help me.  I eased over and once again decided to block traffic like an Italian native.  The police woman thankfully spoke English.  She asked me where I was from. I explained that we had just moved to Italy a week ago and that we were joining my husband for a work trip. She told me that tourists should never drive in Florence. My husband’s work should have told us that.  The hotel should have told us that.  She explained that it is difficult for the locals to drive in Florence because the streets change almost on a weekly basis according to politics. That explained why the GPS was having such a hard time. She asked where my husband was.  I told her he was on the bus with his office mates.  “Hum.” she said with a raised eyebrow.

“Allora” she tells me, “you must drive over that bridge there.  Once you are across the bridge you go straight and your hotel is very close.  Another right turn and there you will find it.”

“I can’t go across the bridge. It is one way traffic going the opposite direction. And the street is blocked with a chain,” I respond.

“Ignore the traffic. It is the fastest way and I will have my colleague meet you at the chain, He will unlock it and you can drive through,” she tells me.

“Huh?!” Did the police woman just instruct me to break the law? I am stricken with terror at the thought, but I am also so close to having a permanent breakdown that I decide it is worth it. Jail would be a welcome relief from Italian drivers.

I grip the steering wheel and proceed to drive against traffic across the Ponte Santa Trinita.  Everyone, justifiably this time, is once again honking, screaming, shaking fists at me, but damn it, we made it across. We pulled up to the chained street. We waited for 30 minutes. No one came.  I negotiated the terrors of Firenze traffic again to wind my way back to the police woman.  She instructs me to do the same thing again. I tell her that I already did what she suggested but no one came to meet us at the chain. She tells me I must be patient.  I cross the Ponte Santa Trinita again. Against traffic. Against all reason and sanity.

This time, however, I noticed a city bus lumbering along. I thought to myself, “if that bus can fit, then so can I.” I threw caution to the wind. I ignored the chain and decided to follow the bus. It worked! I swear I heard angels sing when I finally found the street that our hotel was located on. We were close. All I had to do was find the piazza to park in as the hotel had instructed me.

I pulled up to what is, to this day, the tiniest piazza that I have ever seen. There were a few of the teeny Smart electric cars parked, but even they were parked all akimbo because space was so tight.  I didn’t want to leave the car double parked only to come back and find it towed away.  So I stayed with the car, our luggage, a distraught Lena and the passports while Aleksander ran to the hotel and asked what to do.

Guidos - Driving In Italy

Aleks returned and said that the hotel advised us to just leave the car double parked until we checked in.  What? What was this new world where the rules just do not apply?

But, it was all I needed to hear. We abandoned the car, blocking people in.  At the front desk I asked where the piazza for parking was that they kept telling me about over the phone.

“It is just there. Where your car is.”

“That is the hotel parking? There is nowhere to park in the piazza.”

“We know.  There is never any parking there. Just leave it there with the keys. We will take care of it.”

With pleasure!