CHAPTER 1
A MONTH IN RIVA TRIGOSO - ITALY - SEPTEMBER 2001
A s all things that are meant to be, this trip began to fall into place like manna from above. Since my first visit to Italy in 1997, I knew I would return. A 14-day tour with my two sisters, my niece and her fiancee to Italy and Greece was just enough to whet my appetite. But, that's another story.
This story is about a month in Riva Trigoso on the Ligurian Sea, how it came to be and how I fell in love with this small sea-coast town, its beauty, and its people. "Riva" (to the natives) was our head- quarters, home base, from where we ventured out for a few days at a time to Roma, Venizia, Firenze and Pisa.
I've never been able to accept that we are not taught the real names of cities in the world. The first time I went to Europe and our plane landed in Lisbon, I looked out the window and saw "Lisboa" on the airport terminal. "My God," I thought, "they've misspelled the name!" How ethnocentric can one America be. Very. I soon learned that many European cities have different names than we learned in school. Rome is "Roma", Florence is "Firenze", Venice is 'Venizia." Berlin is Berlin. Madrid is Madrid. Why some names are changed and others are not is a mystery to me. Back to Riva.
The "we" in the trip is my sister-in-law Janet and myself.
She retired a year before and I was a new retiree. After over 30 years of guidance counseling middle school students, (whew!), I did need a change! I dreamed about this return to Italy during my entire final year of work. In hopes of going to Italy speaking the language, Janet and I signed up for a 12 week course in Italian at a local college. Twelve weeks meant 12 sessions of two hours each. Our Professoressa Bruna was determined to teach us every regular and irregular Italian verb. Bruna is a native Italian who also teaches Italian to middle school students, who I suspect caught on much faster than our adult class. We were given 2 to 3 hours of home- work each week which, I must confess, I did not complete. If I could find the page number which she rattled off in speedy Italian, I felt successful. Most of the time I was trying to look across the aisle at other student's notebooks to see which page we were on. My goal was to arrive in Italy speaking at least some Italian. I learned "voray" vorrei (I would like) but I never said it, nor did I ever hear any Italian say it. I learned to skip right to my immediate needs:
"Te" (tea), "Latte" (milk) "Aqua natural, piccolo" (a little bottle of mineral water). I learned that "piccolo" (little) can mean anything in a restaurant from a 12 ounce bottle to a liter. The "grande" bottles are 2 liters or more ... Water cost as much, and in some cases more, than a Coca Cola, Fanta, tea or wine.
And since one never gets to take home a "doggie bag" or an almost-full bottle of water, you can't win. It is considered impolite and rude to ask to take food home. "Mangiare" Eat it all up!
Anyway, during these humbling experiences of going to Italian class without my homework completed, I was busy counseling my students on the importance of them doing their homework.
CHAPTER 2
FINDING A PLACE TO LIVE
Janet and I decided we would like (vorrei) to have a villa near the sea that was also near public transportation. I found out that a "villa" meant an 8 bedroom or more house with 4 bathrooms, possible servants and started at about $2,000 a week. I sent for catalogs, checked the internet and started looking for "an apartment" or "flat", but couldn't seem to find what we wanted in our price range, which was slightly above poverty level. Then came the manna from Heaven.
Janet phoned. Her son-in-law in St. Louis, Missouri works for a company with a subsidiary in Italy. Would we like a "free" apartment to live in for a month? It is the summer apartment of his boss and it is in a small coastal town in Northern Italy with public transportation to anywhere else in Italy. Someone had read my mind. The town is named Riva Trigoso. The first of the falling-into-place events.
We could not believe our good fortune. We looked on maps of Italy but could not find Riva Trigoso. Pat (son-in-law) assured us that it existed. It is near Sestri Levante which we did locate. I vowed now to complete my homework, but I could not. It wasn't that I did not set aside the time, I just couldn't figure out the answers. And we were called on in class to verbalize our answers. I kept slouching down so low at my desk that I don't think Professoressa Bruna knew I was there.
Every week she handed out reams of photocopied information on culture and sights of Italy along with homework sheets. Each class ended with a 15 minute video on different cities in Italy. My notebook weighed at least 10 pounds and there were 3 weeks to go. We had no classroom breaks! It was the fastest 2 hours of my life for 12 weeks. Halfway through the 12 classes, Janet went to Peru for a week and asked me to take notes, tape class and bring her homework with me. Was she kidding? I could hardly keep track of my own. I did tape the class for her, but it was unintelligible. It sounded like EWOKS in a fight.
CHAPTER 3
TRAVEL PLANS
We were advised to fly in and out of Milan. More manna to come. My niece Tracy is a travel agent supervisor for Triple A. I phoned her at 9: 00 A.M. next day that we were looking at flying in and out of Milan after Labor Day in September. She phoned back an hour later.
Great deal offered now on Delta. It's only April, but we couldn't pass up the deal. I phoned Janet, we set our dates and the next day had our tickets in the mail! For the past 30 years I had dreamed of being able to travel on those off-times when school is in session.
When the working folks are back at school and the hot summer months are over. Wish granted! Meanwhile, the school year is winding down and the student schedules for the next year must be completed. Our superintendent takes another position, our middle school principal advances to the high school, and we have a new middle school principal. My retirement party is being planned, my family members are planning on attending from Hot Springs, Arkansas; Columbus, Ohio; Lockport, N. Y. Everyone wants to know about my trip to Italy. My office begins piling up with going- away/retirement gifts, and I receive journals upon journals to catalog my adventures. Fodor's Italy, maps, even $100 in Italian lira. What a great group of teachers and friends.
Can I possibly handle more manna?! As it turns out only one other teacher is retiring and she doesn't want a party so it's all for me. They tell me I can gave a guest table for eight. I have nineteen relatives attending, so they add another table. I feel loved and envied and manna keeps coming!
CHAPTER 4
PACKING AND MORE PACKING
Over packing has always been an affliction of mine. I've attempted to analyze what it is with me that I want to bring everything that I usually have at home--just in case! I have been "counseled" by most of my family to help me break this habit and I actually am on the road to recovery. I'm trying to find a line between what I really need and what I think I might need should the worst possible scenario happen. Well, I wasn't far along in my recovery before we left so I did bring clothes for hot and cold weather, two pairs of sunglasses (in case I lose one) a pair of reading glasses and a pair...
