At the beach you can always tell when summer is imminent: the bikers and
runners change their gear to spring and summer apparel, the aroma of gas
grills permeates the air, and people come out from hibernation like bees
exiting faux flowers. A sense of renewal drives others to take care of tasks
undone, such as yard work, and the Home Depots become jammed with
customers, us included. In the middle of total chaos, I have attempted to
continue to do some commissioned paintings while getting used to searching
for my morning cereal bowl, tea cup and bags, toothbrush, toothpaste, and
refrigerator, which is currently in the living room. The only source of water
is at a small bar area sink, and somehow I am trying to cope while the quest
continues for items under plastic. New hardwood floors, countertops, and
cabinet patinas are reminders of the necessity for patience and serenity if at
all possible. I know that the remodeling will be worth the wait. The final results
will be exciting, much like the feeling I get when a painting is finished. All of
this also reminds me that I really should purge a bit more often if only for the
feeling of contentment that follows.

Nothing like getting away from the COLD to one of my favorite places,
Key West!! I look forward to the annual trip with friends who also savor
the brief heavenly respite from the snow and ice left at home. We've only
had small dustings as usual, yet you can read the signs of ecstatic relief on
the faces of fellow tourists from the north within the crowded small terminal
at Key West airport. Conch Republic fever strikes once more.....
This year the eight-pack decided to rent bikes and join the rest of the maddening crowds on the island. I must say that that was one of the smartest
things we have ever done. We just wondered why we never thought of it before now instead of paying for other forms of ground transportation. Duh!!
You keep thinking that you have seen almost everything there is to see yet
every year something new appears even while visiting the old haunts. This
year the girls discovered Jamaican Me Hungry and the best Key Lime
margaritas!! The waiter refused to divulge the secrets of his concoction so
several tastings were in order so that we would be able to figure out the recipe
when we returned home. Cooler weather for a few days didn't dampen our
spirits. It merely provided us with more opportunities for shopping while the
guys went fishing, of course.
I would share the secret of the place where we stay but if I did, there might
not be room for us when we return, so only the eight pack knows along with
some knowledgable conchs and those who were clinching their teeth back home that could not make the trip this year for varied reasons. Another one
has already been made public. For ten dollars a day (it used to be eight) one
can luxuriate around the pool and bar at the Southernmost House. I thought
it was a bit strange that we actually saw some of the locals we've met over
the years there soaking up sun for several days in a row, and in front of us
were two rows of beach lounges occupied by none other than fellow tourons
from VA. BEACH and nearby Chesapeake. I think I most enjoyed feeling
barbequed by the Floridian sun (hot!!) while reading my latest travelogue
by Frances Mayes, A Year in the World ,and sipping multiple pina coladas.
Total bliss. The multi-colored crab on its back on the edge of the stone wall
nearby must have been thinking the same thing. I never saw it move, even
when it was discovered by some of the beachgoers who grabbed their digitals. Combinations of business as well as pleasure reasons always lead
me to Blue Heaven where one has to go if you truly experience the Republic.
Leaving the lobster benedict breakfasts behind and facing the reality of having
to return to working realities, I reluctantly returned to the drawing board where I left a painting in progress from the Italian Riviera series. After that, a commission to complete along with another KW painting. Let the brushstrokes begin again.

January completely disappeared so quickly this year! Maybe
because I spent some of it in Naples (Florida) and the rest of the month has
been filled with deadlines for this year's art shows and preparation for my
"Spirit of Italy" Eastern Shore exhibition beginning this weekend at Mariah's
at Tower Hill in Cape Charles, Virginia. One of my first commissions was
a painting of Mariah herself which is located in the main floor bathroom.
The story of Mariah's and Tower Hill Bed and Breakfast is truly an interesting
one and has been featured several times in various magazines. The house was
restored after it was abandoned for a period of years and was briefly used as
a second home during the summer months. Marked tombstones identify partially opened graves of one of the eighteenth century residents: Mariah
Saunders and some of the members of her family. There have been many stories of haunted happenings and sightings within the inn since its beginnings.
Some of these have included strange noises and falling objects as well as
some things that seem to defy explanation (perhaps a suggestion of the
presence of former occupants.) The inn is set back into a residential development overlooking a creek which winds its way to a modernized
multi-colored marina.The proprietors of Tower Hill are Chef Tim Brown
and his wife, Melanie, who have been close friends for many years. For more
information about the bed and breakfast and Mariah's, visit www.towerhillbb.com .

  Up again early on our last day in Manarola to climb the steep terraced hills
and tortuous pathways that have beckoned a few of us while staying there.
It was challenging for the trio and unfortunately part of my climb was downward on my rear end since it was quite difficile to get up and down the stone steps.
(A slight cut on the hand but not too much of a scratch that a little magical
Mediterranean water wouldn't cure!)
Reluctantly our group said our good-byes to our adopted home base and to
the Signora and Gabriele, who were gracious hosts. Luggage going downhill
was much smoother than the reverse, and we slowly savored the final sights
to which we had been accustomed to seeing on a daily basis: the fishermen
bringing in the fresh catch of the day and the hoist upward of the colorful
catch and boats onto the cobbled walkway, the small mercato in the center of the village, the graffiti laden walls that prefaced our final passage to the train
station, the tracks overlooking the cliffs and village plus la mare.....always.
 I even saw a building there that had a rental space which in my dreams would
make a fantastico watercolor painting studio.
Time to focus: off in a frenzy to the train station and La Spezia where this time
we get a first class seat. A cooling breeze permeates the interior as we busy
ourselves with crossword puzzles, reading, sketching, and talk of the evening
plans when we once again arrive back in Florence. I notice that the beauty of
the pristine Tuscan landscape is scarred with varied colored grafitti leading
into the train stop at Firenze Rifredi and Santa Maria Novella Station. A frenetic pace by the six pack (two from Atlanta had gone on to Rome), upon
arrival to locate Hotel Alba. We stepped into the room (Number 3) and all
of the discomfort and grumpiness from trains, trains, and more was suddenly
forgotten. In its place was a revival of miniature Renaissance: a spiraled staircase leading to an upper loft, and before us a king bed next to a huge
painted Florentine armoire. The azure tiled bath was divided into dual showers
with bidet and toilet and two sinks flanked by a towel rack holding some of
the most plush towels that I have ever wrapped around myself! The icing on
the panna: a domed frescoed alcove to the right with a large jacuzzi beneath and a whimsical array of watchful putti above. Upon seeing it, I pictured myself lost in the bubbles while sipping from glasses of wine like a Titian diva....Heaven, however, was not meant to be: the rush was once again on to locate a place for dinner : Ristorante Paoli, a short walk from the Duomo.
Fate would once again deal a blow: another of our group was ill, and had to
return to the hotel leaving a group of cinque. My final meal was piccatini limone followed by some more gelato on the walk back. The wake-up call came much too early at 5:20 a.m. Check-in followed at the airport without hassles, although many of our bags were thoroughly searched. I was carrying small regali of various samples of oils, which resulted in some added interest on the part of the TSA officials. Changing planes in London went smoothly although we did have a slight delay when one of us had forgotten and sent a Swiss Army knife through the carry-on scanner in Charlotte prior to boarding 
for the  final leg of our journey.And of course, what trip would not be complete without lost luggage? Ah, the thrill nowadays of flying, yet I am ready to go again tomorrow if I needed to. This time a nearby trip to home and a celebration with close friends for New Year's Eve and memories of another
remarkable year living la dolce vita...or close to it.

The six pack headed early to the train station with two less members. Unfortunately, one of our group had been ill and couldn't join us for our
beach adventures, which were continuing for the second day. We had decided
that the day's itinerary would be a visit to Portofino, which we found out could
be reached via ferry at the port at Santa Margherita Ligure. The first beach
stop was at Sestri Levante where we walked out onto the beach and briefly
walked the streets for photo ops before boarding the train again. When we
arrived at Santa Margherita Ligure I felt like we definitely were in the riviera
again, as it somewhat reminded me of Nice on the French side. We encountered patient and friendly merchants while on our linens mission before
we caught the ferry to Portofino. Fifteen to twenty minutes later we were at
the infamous Portofino. We had lunch at Caffe Excelsior next to Ristorante
Delfino. The most enjoyable part of the village was the trompe l'oeil on the
buildings that are usually not seen in paintings of Portofino. It looked different
from what I expected based upon those works and photos in travel magazines. On the trip back I remarked that this was the most beautiful
view I had ever seen from a train station (in Santa Margherita Ligure.)
Reservations were made for a group of nine at La Aristide, one of the local
restaurants in Manarola left to visit. Trattoria Billy was closed. Service was
slower yet my Italian seemed to speed it up somewhat. The restaurant was
packed with primarily locals who seemed to be mildly interested in the long
table of Americans in the far corner. Somehow the walk back uphill had
gotten easier with practice, and by this time, we could have walked it blind-
folded, but with a bottle of vino (of course!) for the road.

Trains...back and forth to La Spezia, then finally to Manarola today. Beach
and sightseeing was great for several hours at Monterosso prior to this. I
relished some free time spent sketching at the beach and enjoying another
gelato while some of the others window shopped. We had lunch earlier at
the American Bar where we left our dollar bill along with others above our
booth inside the front doorway.
When we returned as a group to Manarola, we once again enjoyed our
afternoon appertivi prior to making our reservation at Marina Piccola on the
waterfront. I sampled grilled anchovies with gabinetti. Delicioso! (I won't
even touch anchovies here. Not the same!) The dessert menu consisted of
panna cotta, a chocolate and pear torte, and a vanilla custard with a crust
of pine nuts, and torte della nonna. Our now traditional walk back to the
bed and breakfast prefaced another night of blissful sleep accompanied
by the cooling breeze from the fan in the room which until that time had not
been used and the watchful gaze of the purple muse painted upon the ceiling
above the bed.

The day started with a lovely breakfast served on the main terrace: assorted
antipasti, cheese filled croissants, and pickles decoratively placed upon a sectional tray along with blood orange juice and your choice of hot coffee or tea, and a packaged cereal with yogurt. We watched the sun peek out from hazy morning skies as across from us the vineyard workers climbed up to the terraced hillside. The Virginiafornians decided to visit Corniglia, accessible by train, boat, or foot.
We chose first to go by boat only the tides were too high, so the last option
was elected. Some of us walked up the 360 steps while others took a bus ride
to the top. When we reached the summit, we tried a pear cactus, lemon, and
honey yogurt and visited with the owner of the cafe where it was served. After
that, we had to taste the local specialty, gelato miele (gelato with honey). Yummo, as Rachel Ray would say.
Lunch followed later at the harbor in Vernazza. I had pesto pizza and the scenery was awesome. Hours shopping were followed up with appertivi
and drinks on the terrace at La Toretta before our local dinner at Il Porticciolo.Our server, Allesandra, was especially cordial to the table of 
stranieri Americani. Pazzo! We returned to our favorite bar, where
Roberto, our yogurt guy of Corniglia, was again spotted. We were reminded
of home when we met another young man who wore a Hokie Nation tee
shirt earlier at La Toretta, yet we headed back to another night of dream-
filled slumber and anticipation of a beach day there in Italy tomorrow.

   I bid farewell to the Signora following our morning breakfast and to our
new Aussie friends who told us they were planning to visit Williamsburg,
Virginia within the year. Our group went to the Mercato Centrale for foods
and cheeses to take with us on our train journey to La Spezia, gateway to
the Cinque Terre in Liguria. Since my Italian has improved from daily practice,
we were able to find the train with limited hassles. We would be returning to
Firenze the next Friday for one last evening. We still were not quite sure as
to whether there was a distinction between first and second class, but we did
know that we were heading to our correct destination. Of course, the ride was noisy, busy and filled with teens in a telefonino stupor. (As annoying here as
in America!) One young lady across from us looked like the American actress,
Helen Hunt, and when we tell her this, she tells us that she has been told that
many times before. Our conversation was interrupted by a young Indian girl
who is begging by passing out "handicap" notes. I passed the time sketching
on the train and people watching as the stops are made. I also spent some
time talking to a math professor from the University of Milan who enjoyed
telling us about the area before she got off at her stop. After a few hours and
multiple stops, we arrived at La Spezia, where we purchased our Cinque Terre
3 Card which allows us three days of unlimited travel in and around the villages.
  Our introduction to the Cinque Terre began with the passage through the
tunnel leading into the small village of Manarola, our home base. The hike
up the road to the right uphill was definitely grueling with large luggage, but
somehow we arrived at the Piazza Chiesa and located our home for the next
five days: La Toretta. Our hosts, Gabriella and Gabriele, mother and son,
respectively, showed all of us to our rooms. Ours was one of the largest at
the top of the winding steps. It was quite a challenge just getting your luggage
up to the room, but the view of the azure sea and  terraced vineyards across
from us was breathtaking, even better than the photos I had seen on Tripadvisor online. Following a brief tour of all of our rooms, we decided to
explore Manarola by walking the famed Via dell'Amore. We had tried to
get local reservations for dinner but Gabriele had to find something for us in
the second village accessed easily by this roadway, Riomaggiore. We had to
wait for our reservation anyway so we had some drinks at the harbor  bar below the
Ristorante La Lanterna with new friends from California who had been visiting France prior to their stay in Manarola. That evening we celebrated the merging of the Virginiafornians, our new name,over appertivi and a true Italian dinner of seafood with the locals. Our waiter brought over some bream, I think, with heads on, which he suggested for the main meal among ten of us, but we had pasta in mind so we opted for dishes from the regular menu. I was
anxious to try granchi (crab) with penne. It wasn't sweet like the taste of our
blue crab at home, but still buono. With stuffed bellies, we walked back with
the aid of a walking stick and flashlight to Manarola. The group, now reduced
to six, went for a nightcap of schiacchetra, (pronounced like shock-et-trah),
the local sweet wine, at La Cantina Propone, which we would revisit often
during our stay. Going back uphill proved to be a bit easier sans baggagli and
we Virginiafornians decided the best way to maneuver this arduous task was
to traverse the road by zigzagging crosswise back and forth until we reached
a flattened area with a small staircase of wide steps which would lead us back
to the piazza. Of course, I'm sure that the wine and other drinks that followed
our meal had nothing to do with our new method of "finding home in the dark".
We would find out that it would prove indeed repeatedly to be quite helpful...
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The day began with a quick visit to the CAF tour office near the train station
to check on a cancelled tour for part of our group follwed by a walk to the
Uffizi, where we would have a tour with Barbara (pronounced Bar-BARE-ah),who was scheduled to arrive at 9:30. I had visited Florence before but did not know then that you could get advance museum tickets so this time I was elated that we did not have to stand in a seemingly endless queue. This time
we could actually take our vouchers, trade them in for tickets, and go to
Door #3. Our guide was to arrive before 10:00 so we had some extra time
for photo ops along the Arno with a view of the Ponte Vecchio. By the time
we finished, Barbara had arrived to greet us along with a few other couples
added to our group. At the ending, we were chastized by an ultra-conservative British lady who didn't like the fact that our tour guide and group
had a sense of humor.She had just finished telling us a story about the art
and we laughed because it was indeed funny. I was reprimanded by a scowling elder who said; "THIS IS A MUSEUM".....and to which I should
have answered, "but not a library." I was too flabbergasted at the moment
so instead a few of us just looked at her and shook our heads. When Barbara
was told about the incident, she showed us her answer: the Italian gesture with
hands coming forward as if scratching yourself underneath the chin. Love the
"Italian way".
Another pizza luncheon was at Borgo Antico. Then the men went their way and the women...of course...shopping along the giollerias on the Ponte Vecchio.I was surprised at how few true artists there were there. Instead
there were a lot of foreigners selling cheap posters and prints that had been
done by other artists. I found a special ring with the crest of the fleur-de-lis,
symbolic of Florence, and followed that with a Tuscan teapot to add to my
collection at home. My Florentine mission was complete without a Ferragamo!
  Back from our Sunday sojourn, some of us took naps and I got in touch with
one of my blogging friends, Melinda, who lives and works in Florence. We
decided to meet at Gilli's for mojitos and vino, and enjoyed a brief visit before
we had to return to meet the group for dinner. We happened upon one of
the recommended restaurants from the web near the Ponte Vecchio, Il Cinghiale Bianco (The White Boar), where we had an incredible meal and
entertaining service from our waiter, Giorgio. We met the owner and son and
left with gifts of wine and small plates. When we came back to the hotel to
pack, the lights went out on our floor but power was quickly restored by the
staff so we could continue our preparation for the train travel to the Cinque
Terre the next day.

  One of the highlights of our planned trip was a long-awaited visit to Greve, outside of Florence, and the site of the
Chianti wine fest. Pasquale picked us up at the hotel around 9:30 that morning and drove us to the festival. We sampled
a plethora of wines that " recalled the colors of a Medici cloak." This description was borrowed from the dinner menu
later that evening back in Florence. Our day was filled with activity: window shopping followed by another sip of vino,
followed by another delicioso morsel of Pecorino, followed by another sip of wine, etc. We were disappointed when we
called several of our Italian friends, whom we had hoped could join us, and were told that it didn't seem to be a possibility
of meeting this time. Still it was good to be able to talk to them, if only briefly, on our cell phone. Lunch was upstairs in a
terraced ristorante where of course we sampled still more of the local specialities, and then rejoined the festa within the
piazza. While riding back to the city we enjoyed the Tuscan scenery. We bid Pasquale our ciaos and grazies, and decided
to meet later for dinner at Antica Fattore, just seconds away from the Uffizi on via Lambertesca. Following dinner there, we
stopped again briefly at the marketplace, where we added to our trove of assorted treasures. Instead of dessert at the
ristorante, we decided to cap off a perfect evening by enjoying more vino in the Piazza Republica, along with a purchase of
chocolates before our return to our hotel.