Civilized Cross Many Countries

I didn’t sleep well last night. Still chasing luggage, wishing Kirsten’s family was here to enjoy this magical spot. When I awoke at 8:30 the house was abuzz with the breakfast ladies. Homemade jam (sorry Michael), croissants, eggs, prosciutto and fruit. Excellent coffees and the sunshine of Puglia.

After breakfast I changed into my second outfit (bathing suit) and the day pretty much went like this:

After pool time we made some lunch, orecchiette and zucchini, ricotta and lemon, salad with tuna, beans and capers, and pasta pomodoro. The girls helped me cook and learned to grate lemon rind. No pictures, but we all feasted. Then, in Puglian style, we all settled in for a nap.

Monopoli is really a special town. Ancient, comfortable, authentically Italian. The Passeggiata each night, no American tourists, no chain hotels. And the light! Limestone walls and buildings against a blue ocean, locals in the water, the man selling apricots in the three wheeled truck, all of it. It’s the way we imagine an Italian town.

We took a last stroll along the waterfront this morning. Brad in his natural habitat looking at boats and talking to fishermen.

Breakfast was gorgeous as always, and the view! Wish you could feel and smell the soft, salty air.

We checked out and walked to the park to have our car delivered because the streets are so narrow, it is only for pedestrians. Because we have no luggage (still) it was an easy walk. On our way we stopped at the local beach — like a scene from My Brilliant Friend.

We drove into the heart of the Val d’Itria to our Villa, which is nicer than the gorgeous pictures. The compound is remote, but breathtaking and the two houses are spectacular and commodious. We got there first and what did we find but a vegetable garden! First thing I did was pick zucchini! After all, there was no unpacking to do!

Next thing, we hear a meowing….. a new friend for the week! A bowl of milk goes a long way in making friends.

Everyone arrived, we had aperitivo as the sun set over the hills with the town of Ostuni glistening in the distance. We grilled three kinds of sausage and the zucchini, made a huge salad and drank great wine out on the terrazza until the kids fell to sleep. No pictures, you’ll just have to imagine it. More photos tomorrow.

So tomorrow the whole family was going to meet at the Villa we selected in 2021. The good: Jeff and his family have diverted a one day air strike and will be taking the train to Bari. The bad: our bags have not been found yet. The ugly: Kirsten and her family had their flight cancelled, and no rebooking till Monday, which means not here till Tuesday and Jet lagged and leaving Saturday. They are not coming. Very sad, very frustrating. We’re still trying to make peace with it, but we head to the Villa tomorrow with spare beds if anyone is interested.

So today we explored Monopoli, an historic Roman town that connected Rome to the East. 17 churches, a massive fort, fishing boats and a lovely town with lots of piazzas. We tried to do some clothes shopping (Brad is not a fan) and came up with a bathing suit for each, a dress for me and a pair of shorts for him before not speaking to each other for the long silent walk back.

We broke bread and made peace at a lovely restaurant with the most amazing fish.

The fish is so fresh, it smells and tastes heavenly. Puglian food has been so light and delicious! I ate gelato for dinner, which was exquisite as well.

We are licking our wounds and rallying for the rest of the week, but we are crestfallen. Nothing more to say tonight. Hoping for a better day tomorrow.

The many faces of Italy. We are in the South, the Deep South of Italy, the Mezzogiorno. This is where grandmothers hold sway, people discuss things loudly, and time crawls by. It’s intoxicating. You can spend the whole day doing almost nothing very comfortably. Nothing is expected of you, and relaxing is encouraged.

We have both commented that when we got here last night, after 20 hours of travel and lost luggage, we were underwhelmed by the town and disappointed with our room selection. But this morning, our room, which is in a separate building a block away from the main (10 room) hotel seemed really private and comforting. The neighborhood felt welcoming, the town quaint and interesting. It’s different here, even different from Sicily.

It is not a tourist spot, it’s the real Italy with clothes drying, dogs barking and cats everywhere. When I selected a hotel I picked a place where Italians go, and I got it. The breakfast, however, is tourist worthy.

We are heading out to buy bathing suits and sun screen and some underwear. If the bags don’t come, reconnaissance will have been done. And now a nap before lunch.

So we made it to Puglia, but our bags did not. Oh well. As a friend wisely said “spend the day at the spa in a fluffy robe and sleep naked, you’re on vacation!”. I guess I will get to buy those Italian sundresses and new sandals….

Tranquillo. Dolce Far Niente. I’m in Puglia now, calm down, enjoy what is here. So we filed our paperwork for the luggage and met Antonio outside. We found out he is from Ceglie Messapica, where we are renting the Villa on Saturday. Old friends right away. He dropped us at our hotel in Monopoli, a lovely seaside town. There was a small Sagra (fair) tonight in the piazza.

As good as the pasta looked, we kept our reservation at the rooftop of the hotel and had the freshest fish in beautiful surroundings with endearing waiters. So what if my bags are lost — I’m in Italy now.

It’s beautiful, the food is good, our room is lovely and we are exhausted! Oh, and there are lots of cats!

What started out as an idea at my kitchen bar in Florida two years ago in a pandemic is finally coming to fruition.

Family trips are difficult to pull off. Selecting the week when everyone can go, finding a location that appeals, and planning the right amount of time together and time apart. I spend so much time searching for just the right thing that I’m always nervous before we get there.

But it’s Italy for God’s sake! How bad could it be???

I’ve packed light, checked my bags, selected an outfit that I can sleep in, but still looks stylish — oh, and I learned my lesson with shoes…

See you in Paris tomorrow on our way to Puglia!

The trip is hours from being officially over. Bags packed, CNN on in the room awaiting the taxi. Dinner last night was perfectly French at Allard, the 1935 bistrot that Alain Ducasse has taken over. It was delicious and old fashioned and Brad got his Ile de Flottante.

We walked around, took in the sites and were reminded how 11 days is the perfect amount of time away. We begin to miss our mundane routines and our beloved cat. We are creatures of habit.

Relais Christine is special little hotel. It was more special 20 years ago when it catered to the French and was a cloistered little gem on a back alley where you would never be found. It has been renovated, it has a Guerlain spa, and it caters to Americans. A large group from Memphis loudly greeted us when we checked in. Not what we were expecting. But it is a lovely place to return to, English is spoken by everyone, and it still retains some French charm.

We brought a bit of Chazy to Paris at Lisa’s suggestion. She spoke a bit of French, loved French poetry but never made it to Paris. She came in a Balenciaga bag and now lies in the Jardin des Tuileries in front of the sculpture Nymph with a view of the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre in front of the palace. A fitting spot.

So mission accomplished on all fronts. Chazy laid to rest, 20th anniversary well celebrated, sites seen, food eaten, souls replenished and we’re ready to com home. Oh, and I have succumbed — I’m wearing sneakers to the airport. Bon voyage!

Well, Catania’s Fontanarossa airport did not disappoint. It’s never been a good airport, and though it’s better, it’s a case study in disorganization. We actually had a bad meal at the airport. But enough about cheap airlines, long lines and bad food, we made it to Paris!

Weather is lovely, trees in bloom, April in Paris. We entered our room, and again a tray of charcuterie was before us, with chocolates from Grouper and the Aunties. My two dear friends, Bethany and Amanda, who flew to Florida to ensure the well being of our sainted cat, sent this welcome tray. We were so tired and so hungry, we devoured it in seconds. Good bread, good butter, many hams and gherkins saved the evening.

The room, though charming and two stories, had an air conditioning problem. It is wonderfully unseasonably warm in Paris, but that made for a difficult night’s sleep. In the morning I summoned my best Parisian indignation and told the front desk about the problem. In cruel English with a haughty French accent I was questioned about my ability to open a window or turn on the air conditioner. I stomped my foot and demanded it be fixed or we moved to a different room immediately. So different than Italy, but it was sort of a fun game. Then I proceeded to breakfast.

Paris is a gorgeous city, and it is a multinational city. There is every kind of food imaginable, and every type of human that God made. Very different than Sicily. These are the restaurants in the first blocks of walk.

We walked 9 miles so far today and didn’t get to the Eiffel Tower! The gardens, the buildings, the bridges, the cafes. It was a stupendous day which included some day drinking.

We headed back to the hotel to organize our flight check in and the manager of the hotel came over to us. She apologized about the AC and had it fixed and comped our room. Parisian indignation for the win!

Our last few hours in Taormina were tear jerkingly blissful. Breakfast on the terrazzo with the lavish spread and perfect cappuccini. I tried a bit of willpower today and only had yogurt and fruit (the dried figs were otherworldly), avocado toast Sicilian style with caramelized Tropea onions, and house smoked swordfish and breseola with chicory salad with special Sicilian lemons that have large edible pith. Brad had bacon and eggs with white toast.

We did a short walk up and down the hills and alleys of Taormina. There are 93 restaurants and God knows how many hotels in this tiny place. Even the shabby corners are beautiful.

We met a couple of cats and chatted with a vegetable vendor and headed back to the hotel for the last bit of Principessa time.

We actually discussed not going to Paris. But as in most things in life, best to leave on a high note.

So off to Catania to stand in lines with throngs of budget travelers and their bulky luggage to take EasyJet to Paris. I am back to being a pedestrian. It was such fun while it lasted.

Notes on Sicily while they are fresh in my mind: Every time we mentioned anything, the response was always “I think that is the best one”. They want you to feel that you have chosen well — the room, the table, the menu item, the city — always the best one. They smile and make eye contact and greet you. There is not a man that does not own a pair of white leather sneakers and wears them with a suit, and there is not a young woman without a tattoo above her heel.

It was a fantasy to stay at the San Domenico Palace. I loved pretending I belonged there, and my God, is it gorgeous! However, my heart is in Noto and Siracusa — they are my people. I love the easy shrugs and the crumbling grandeur and the laughter and the feeling that all will take care of itself in time. They are warm and accepting and generous and a little garrulous.

I never mentioned masking — ubiquitous. Everyone, everywhere. Everyone is exhausted by it, like the rest of the world, but they are respectful of others, and the country is 92% vaccinated and 80% boosted. We may still get sick, but it’s not for the lack of trying to keep everyone safe.

Cocktails in the courtyard, dinner facing the Mediterranean, each and every person in the hotel wishing us a Happy Anniversary, like we were visiting royalty, and cassata cake in bed with fluffy robes.

And so twenty years passed in the blink of an eye. We spent the day discussing the highs and lows. Interestingly, we both believe that the lows, though miserable at the time, served to bring us closer together. Neither one of us can believe that 20 years have passed. I’m sure there will be more highs and lows ahead of us, but if it will be anything like the last twenty, damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!