TTITIM #7: The View from the Pool in the Morning

Every morning (at least 99.9% of the time), whether I’m living in San Martino, Italy, or Seattle, USA,  I take the dogs for a walk almost first thing. In Seattle, I usually take them separately (cause it’s easier in our neighborhood full of other dogs, cats, and all that), Rory first then Sookie. But here in Italy, I take them around the yard (not just the dog yard, but the full three-level gigantic yard) together. We tend to walk through the dog yard (which is fenced in), down the straight grassy stretch to the pool’s front edge, up the stone stairs to the olive grove, around a bit, down the slope to the back side of the pool, down the circular steps, through the tall grass pasture, up the slope to the long grassy walk from dog yard to pool and back into the dog yard. A nice little 20-minute-ish ramble to smell, sniff, pee, eat from the deer scat buffet (the dogs, not me), and wake up. We usually only stop for more than a couple seconds at one spot, the back side of the pool. It’s about the middle of the walk, and a good stop to make the dogs sit, catch their breath, calm down if the little neighbor dogs have been yapping incessantly (driving Rory nuttier than normal), and have a snack (tends to be hotdogs, if you’re interested). While the dogs are snacking, I take a moment to look out, over the grass pasture, over the neighbor’s field, and out farther, over the valley we live above, the far western corner of the Niccone Valley, our own corner of the Italy, a spot I think is as beautiful as any other spot in the world. No picture does it justice, definitely not this one, but I took it this morning, about 8:30 am, and it’ll at least give you an idea of what, soon, sadly, I won’t see every morning:

*All TTITIM

Walking Down San Martino Hill

I’m not saying this happens every morning (cause we don’t need any lying here on the Six Months blog), but probably 2/3s of the mornings, or somewhere between 1/2 and 2/3s of the mornings, I go for a little walk down the Italian hill we live upon. It usually happens after taking the dogs around the grounds and feeding them (I do have my priorities straight), and every so often Nat will walk with me (or we’ll take another walk). Often, though, it’s just me walking down and up the hill. And it’s a darn nice walk down, I have to say (up is nice, too, in a visual sense, though steep, very steep), with lots of vistas and views and nature-y nature-ness. I thought it might be good for you, too, to have a walk down the hill, through a couple photos (please start moving your legs while you read now). First, when walking out the gate, I get a great olive grove on the right. We’ve seen deer in this grove at night oh, five to ten times when driving home, and once a young buck stopped in the road right in front of us before leaping into the grove:

There are many lovely vistas during the walk, looking south-west off the mountain over the Niccone valley (named after the rives that runs through it) and the town of Mercatale. This onview occurs early in the walk, and also shows a newish fence. The reason I put the fence in is because I saw it built in a way. Over the course of a week, I would see an older Italian man working on it, first mapping it out, then putting up poles, then fencing, then touching it up. The first time I walked by he didn’t give me much notice, but every day became more friendly, going from Buon Giorno to Giorno to the more familiar “ciao.” I suppose even a strange American becomes familiar after a few days:

On the right when walking down, and especially farther up, near our house, you see signs for private property from Reschio. Reschio is one of the traditional castles in the area, one of the few still kept up and modernized, and still (I think) owned by tha Count. He’s also bought up lots of the surrounding land (the castle itself is a couple kilometers from us), and rents much of it and the houses on it out for lots of euros. I like that the lower sign specifically tells to stay away from his mushrooms:

My favorite site on the walk is also somewhat castle-like, though not of the size as the Count’s. And, it isn’t in anywhere near decent shape from what I can tell, though if looking closely some construction fencing is visible. Maybe it’s being restored in a slow slow manner? I think it’s quite statuesque and elegant in its little valley, with its one crumbling tower. I suppose a couple million could get it up to shape, if you’re so inclined:

Right close to my favorite little fortress is my favorite tree. And yes, I have a favorite tree on the walk. Call me hippie if you must. The fall and winter foliage around us is stark and green, but I sway towards the stark side on favorite tree picking. This one looks so Sleepy Hollow to me, and very dramatic (even the trees in Italy have a flair for the artistic):

Walking down a bit farther, past some yapping dogs (one named Benji, by the way. Really) that weren’t out today due to temperatures being in the single Celsius digits, there is a man-made lake on the right (at least it looks man-made to me). Often, they’ll be ducks on the lake, and most times a small herd of sheep near it (about the same number of sheep that I owned when I was a twelve year old farm boy). Sadly, both fowl and furry animals were inside today, but the lake itself is still pretty:

Shortly after the lake (and by “shortly” I mean the steepest part of the walk) I’m in the valley, almost to the road that connects us with the rest of Italy and the world:

And then I turn around, catch my breath, and get ready to head back up the hill (no pictures from the way up—as mentioned: very steep):

Cielo Chiaro Vistas, Part 2

Now, I wanted to put up a few more pics of Cielo Chiaro, our house here in San Marino (which isn’t even really a cluster of houses, but a loose designation for a rural neighborhood on the top of a hill), but I don’t want it to seem like I’m saying “nah-nah-nah, look at our Italian house.” Really, I just want my mom (and Nat’s mom) to realize that we’re not in a complete Italian remote ruralness, and that we do have a charming house, with running water, and some grounds to walk the hounds on in the morning. With that, here’s a look at the hounds (that’s Sookie and Rory, if you’ve forgotten) regular hang out space, which is a big, about twenty-five yard-square fenced-in area (Andrew and Marianne put up a new fence before we got here) that they run around (you can see them barely in this pic):

Out the back gate of Sookie and Rory’s yard you can see a view (this is a long view) of the pool (sadly closed, but we walk around it every day), and the long yard, and a little of the top yard (notice the many olive trees):

Beneath the pool is another yard, and the little house, which used to be a pig shed (really), but now is almost rentable and a really sweet little one-bedroom number with new fixtures (you can see it through the trees here):

Back up at the house, here’s a view through one of the front windows into the dining room and living room (you can’t really see the complete living room area, but I liked the view through the window):

In the living room, we have a little wood-burning stove, which we’ve utilized almost every night since mid-October. It reminds me a lot of growing up on old farmhouses back in Kansas (buying old farmhouses seemed to be the family addiction for a few years), when sometimes during ice storms electricity would go out, and we’d only have the wood-burning stove for heat. Here, our electricity is fine, but expensive, and the stove is so warm and homey:

All that fire can make you thirsty though, which is why it’s nice we have a full, handy, cute, kitchen close by:

Of course, the kitchen is also necessary for all those Cielo Chiaro specials we’ve been cooking up.

PS: Want to stay in Cielo Chiaro your-own-self (after we've gone, that is)? Check out the Cielo Chiaro page on the Amici Villas site.

Cielo Chiaro Vistas, Part 1

Cielo Chiaro means, in Italian, clear skies, and we’ve had mostly clear skies so far while being here. This has afforded us the chance to take a number of pictures of the house and the surroundings, none of which do it justice. And it’s not just that we’re poor photographers (though I’m no Melissa Punch). The way the house is built, it’s divided, sharing a wall with another separate address. This seems to be a regular occurrence in Italy (we’ve had this happen in past Amici spots we’ve stayed at), not just in towns an cities, which might seem obvious, but also in the country, such as we’re in now. But even though we share a wall, I haven’t yet heard anything via the wall from our neighbors (I think most of the shared-ness is against our bathroom and the “cantina” below it--the “cantina” here being not a mess hall/dining area, but a storage area that’s almost underground, like a below-the-house storage area. An area that would, by the by, make a good set for a horror movie). Because of this sharing, it’s hard to get a feel for our “house,” Cielo Chiaro and show it completely in manner that fits its graceful and understated design. But I’m going to give it a shot anyway, and give some of the views around it (I’ll do it in multiple posts, like a slow unveiling. Because there is no need to rush things).  Let’s start with the driveway, where you can see both our leased Peugeot and the iron gates, which make me feel slightly regal each time I drive through them (I’d probably feel that way even more if I didn’t have a problem opening them each time. I know there’s a trick to unsticking the latch, but it’s one I haven’t gleamed yet):

From the driveway, you can either walk up the stairs and in the front door, or walk around the front corner of the house, which will take you either to the big fenced in dog yard (pics of that in a second post), down the lane to the little house (which is almost ready for visitors) and the extended yard, or around the house to the spooky cantina (one of the ornamentations the house had that I enjoy, both for their solidity and their rustic feel are the wooden-slatted shutters on view in this pic):

Walking inside, you pass through the hall, and then on your right through the common room/dining room (which I’m skipping for now), and then in its left corner go into the “master” bedroom. It’s the master bedroom cause it’s the one we sleep in (and we rule), because it’s the one bedroom with one bigger bed instead of two smaller ones, because the bed has a mosquito netting (and mosquitos go for the masters), and most of all because it has a balcony. It’s not a giant balcony, but big enough for two (or two dogs and a person or two), has a wrought railing, and two tall, elegant, doors with two of the above-mentioned shutters on the outside. Here’s the view looking through the bedroom:

and here’s the view when standing on the balcony in the middle of morning, when there’s still a hint of fog on the hills and the sun is beginning to take control of the day:

Of course, it’d be enjoyable to stand on the balcony from dawn until dusk to watch the Umbrian day unfold like a green blanket, but it seems the dogs are barking, so I’ll walk back inside (if anyone notices that the master bedroom is a little less than masterfully clean, remember, we’re still unpacking. Or just messy):

What I Can’t Wait For: Da Cesari Ravioli

As we get closer to leaving on our Italian adventure (departure date: October 5th), I’m not only thinking about what I have to take (and will post about that, too, but one hint: ice cube trays), and what we have to get together for the dogs (big crates, to start with, for the flight), but also have been spending lots of time ruminating over what I can’t wait to do, and to have, when we get there. This will be our fifth trip to Italy, and while we have lots of favorites in our Lisciano Niccone neighborhood, since we’ve stayed there for at least a few days every time we’ve been, we also have some favorites we can’t wait to get back to in other Italian locales, since we’ve also visited a number of other spots. And by “favorites” I mean both towns and cities and artistic vistas and such, but also specific dishes and drinks, which I’ll blog about as they start to overwhelm my imagination. The first, and a dish I’ve been dreaming of since the night after I ate it, is the Ravioli di Zucca at Da Cesari in Bologna, at Via de’ Carbonesi 8. Da Cesari is, to my mind, one of the must-stops on a culinary tour of Italy (and the spot of one of the best meals I ever had). Da Cesari is over 100 years old and family owned, with all the produce from the family farm and all the wine made by the family, too (we had an especially lush and delicately frizzante Laumbrusco). The staff is incredibly friendly and helpful (even bringing out the house digestif, which was a berry and herbal liqueur in a bottle that is frozen within a block of ice that has berries and leaves suspended in the ice), and everything we had to eat over the few hours we were there was delicious. But my favorite was the Ravioli di Zucca. It had solely a swirl of olive oil and parmigiano-reggiano on top, which is good, because with truly perfect homemade pasta, cooked to al dente excellence, you don’t need or want much in the way of sauce. After that first ethereal munch into the pasta, you hit the pumpkin filling, which is creamy without sacrificing bright flavor. It may have been the best ravioli I ever consumed (and believe me, I consumed every last smidge), and I can’t wait to taste it, and visit Da Cesari. Even though Bologna is about 3 hours away from Ciaro Chielo, we plan on making the trip before too long after we get to Italy (and don’t worry, we’ll post about it here).

Basics: We’re Moving to Italy and Taking the Dogs

After about 11 (A.J.) or 12 (Natalie) years of working hard at multiple jobs (which we did enjoy, by and large), Nat and I decided to move to Italy for an extended break, which we’re calling our pre-tirement, as we know we’ll have to work after this break. And this blog is about that pre-tirement (and we’ll talk more about the whole pre-tirement later, too), and about taking our two little 80 pound dogs with us to Italy, and about Italy and the Niccone Valley, which is where we’re staying, and a lot about Italian food and drink, which we love. But I thought the first post should just be about the basics. So, here they are.

Starting October 6th, we are staying at a house called Cielo Chiaro, which means “clear sky” and is owned by the people who run Amici Villas--they’re folks my wife and I have rented from every other trip we’ve had to Italy (5), a nice British couple that rent Italian villas and apartments owned by local Italians and themselves. So, they’ve been very helpful. And they have a dog, named Oscar, so know where the vets are, which is also important. The Niccone Valley is an area right on the border of Tuscany and Umbria, though maybe 1 or 2 miles over the mountains from houses/apts we’ve actually stayed at in the past (that area is called the Morra Valley—all these valleys due to it being a hilly and valley-y area). It’s probably 1 to 1-1/2 hours from Florence, depending on traffic, and maybe 30 minutes from Cortona. The closest little village is Lisciano Niccone, which we’re a mile or two from (our house is a bit rural).

The best pizza place in the world, Nestor’s Pizza, is about 20 or 30 minutes away, and you can read a bit about it on this blog (which is a blog by an English guy living right in the area we’ll be in—he even self-published a book of hikes in the area, a book we now own). I’ve also written more about the Morra valley and general area (on my booze-ier blog Spiked Punch), though we won’t be in San Leo Bastia (the village I mention), but a bit south.

As far as what we’ll be doing: well, spending a lot of time at Nestor’s. And the other various restaurants in the area. The market in Umbertide (mentioned in the Spiked Punch blog post I referenced above) is on Wednesdays, so we’ll be there for that every week (and will post about it here). The retro flea market is in Citta di Castello on the third Sunday of the month, so we’ll do that then (and post about it here). I suppose drinking Aperol, reading, and relaxing will fill in the time outside of those moments.

Also, the dogs will learn how to hunt truffles (in my mind) and boars (in theirs). And I’ll let you know how it goes. So, come back and see how our adventure progresses (and read some Italian poems, and get some Italian recipes, along the way).