Peace on Earth. Goodwill towards all.

It's almost Christmas, 2022.  Today is December 21, supposedly the darkest day of the year in the Northern  hemisphere.  It's an appropriate moment for reflection and taking a moment to try to get a grip.  I had no warning that 2022 was going to be so tectonic, a mere 355 days ago.  But evidently, "stuff happens".  I wasn't expecting the world to teeter on the brink of World War III.  But stuff did happen.  And my life and the lives of everyone I know got thrown for an ugly loop.  Who'd a thunk it?

Central Europe in horrific, senseless, self annihilation.  China locking up entire regions in a losing attempt to to to stop a virus that should have been eradicated months ago.  Inflation and energy prices through the stratosphere.  People everywhere taking to the streets to revolt against being treated like worms.  It's been a rough ride.

I wish I had a good exit plan to bring the planet back to its senses.  That's just not in my sphere of expertise.  All I can do is to look back with some sense of relief and to look forward with some sense of hope.  I feel a profound sense of relief that somehow the planet managed to muddle through all this chaos relatively intact.  That by itself has been a major victory.  And I choose to look forward to a more " normal " and  "sane" 2023 with a slight sense of hope that we have hit a bottom here and maybe, just maybe, we can learn to live together in peace and understanding.  Cheers.

     

         

Merry Christmas.  Peace to all of you.  Blessed be.  Cheers.

That's my story...and I'm stickin to it.

Dan

World Ending Tomorrow

The good thing about the "clickbait" industry is that they always give you an extra day until the world ends. After all, if the world is supposed to end today, what would be the sense of going out to buy something.  By predicting that the world will end tomorrow, you've still got enough time to watch their program and buy a refill for your anxiety medication.  

Traveling is usually a good escape from the headline creators.  Traveling in Italy is even better because every day about 4:30 in the afternoon, most of the population goes out for a stroll (the last stroll before the apocalypse).  Italy was supposed to fall into chaos because a new far right government was just elected.  Italians still took to the streets en masse not to protest but to enjoy a coffee or an ice cream at their favorite hangout.  They already know that this new government will be gone in 12 months, just like the 74 that came before it since the end of WW II. Who cares?  It's time to walk the dog and have a "Spritz" with friends.

     

           Get a grip mate. Have a Spritz. Watch the parade. Relax.

Maybe I should be a bit more forgiving of the "hair on fire" media folks. They've got to make a living.  Their business is fear. If they can't sell their hysteria, they are out of a job.  Without fear, uncertainty, and doubt, why would you watch their drivel?  And to be fair, Italy has been subjected to 2 millennia of doom and gloom.  The Catholic church had an enormous vested interest in Dante's Inferno.  Everywhere you go in Italy you cannot escape the scenes of what hell will be like.  Hideous dark creatures dragging poor souls into the underworld.  If you didn't want that terrible ending, the church invented a great solution.  You could buy yourself a get out of hell pass because the church invented the business of selling "indulgences".  Just make a large donation to the church and get a free ticket to Paradise.  No waiting in line.  No background checks.  And, of course, no refunds.

     

      Botero's depiction of " Hell".  Botero loved "overweight" figures.

So the obvious solution to a life of "underachieving" was to simply make a donation.  Do not pass "Purgatory" (the Spirit Airlines of the past), do not collect $200.  Go straight to Paradise.

     

       A Paradise for everyone.  Even those who are "plump".

Finally.  Some relief from the doom and gloom media.  No more diets. No more exercise. No more social media shaming.  This was extremely comforting.  Life as it should be.  A few years wages for an immediate pardon.  It's like getting a 5 year opioid prescription from your doctor.  No copays.  No oversight.  No reviews.  No problems.

When I read the 35 latest screaming posts about how the stock market is about to collapse... about how the world is about to fry itself in a nuclear WWIII...about how the climate is cooking the planet... about how there are no more 75 inch flat screen tv's left on the shelves at Wal-Mart... about how I can no longer afford a loaf of bread...about how transgender prisoners can no longer get psychological help...my solution here in

Italy is to go out for a walk.

     

      This Lucca citizen isn't worried.  Why should I fret?

   

The minute I look up and see the deep blue sky and see my first glimpse of giggling kids on the wall in Lucca, I come back to reality.  I come back to the present. I come back to a world that continues.  

The world doesn't end here tomorrow. It just just continues with a delightful shrug.  Italy is just that apathetic!  That's why I love this place.  That's why I keep coming back.  It's my comfort food.

That's my story and I'm stickin to it

Dan

Only Half Here

For some reason, yesterday, I decided to take the long way home after I visited an exhibition of the Italian Immigration Experience to North and South America at the beginning of the 20th century.  Obviously, moving to another country to live and work is a topic I can relate to since that was my reality for many years.  You pack up a suitcase, trundle onto a plane, and try to make sense of your new environment as best and as quickly as possible.  Sooner or later you learn to get around. You pick up enough of the local language and customs to survive at first and then hopefully to feel "at home". It's a gradual process but fortunately human beings are somewhat adaptable.  We merge.

     

        Ad Promotion for Passage To America From Italy, circa 1910

I can't really beam myself back in time to actually feel what it must have been like to just up and leave your home for a strange new continent.  But I do think that it must have been an act of desperation.  All the birds on the ad poster are having a wonderful experience.  Being stuck in 3rd class below the water line and sleeping on cots placed 7 across and two bunks high must have required a real desire to escape.  According to the description of the immigrants in 3rd class, approximately half of the travelers had no documents, probably because they were too poor to afford such a luxury.  I remember as a kid in the sheltered little Midwestern town where I grew up hearing the term " WOP" as a negative slur against Italian Americans.  I was nearly 60 before someone explained the meaning of that term (With Out Papers or WOP).

     

     Cross section of a ship showing 1st, 2nd, & 3rd class travel

I can't really put myself in the minds of those poor huddled masses because I suspect that given the choice between grinding poverty in the South of Italy and heading off to North/South America, it might have been the best of 2 bad options to leave.  What I do know for sure is that such a major move to another country was a life altering experience.  I know from my own personal experience that traveling and living in another country rearranges your mind.  

At the tender young age of 20, I took the big leap to study abroad for a year in West Africa.  

Living abroad usually leaves a mark on people.  On me it did more than that.  It made me "different".  When I returned to my old surroundings, I just didn't quite fit in.  I looked at my old surroundings and always felt like I was half there.  I was physically in the USA, but I was mentally always yearning to be somewhere else.  The old friends and the old routines just didn't satisfy me anymore.  I was like the old song lyrics which said " How you gonna keep 'em down on the farm, after they've seen Paris (pronounced pair ee).  Indeed.  I had seen Paris, I'd studied in Geneva, I been to Madrid, I'd walked on the beautiful beaches of the Canary Islands, I traveled and lived in West Africa.  I was always "halfway" sitting in some cafe near the Eiffel tower watching the crowd pass by as I slowly sipped my cafe au lait with a croissant.  I just found myself not really fitting in any more amongst the old group of friends that I had left only a year ago.  I really was half there...half somewhere else.  Mentally and emotionally, I was a foreigner in my own country.  That was the thought that immediately hit me when I saw this statue on the wall in Lucca.

     

     Statue of half a person, clutching a suitcase...just like me!

So, at the ripe old age of 75, I guess I have come to accept that no matter where I go or no matter how hard I try to "Be Here Now", I will probably always only " Be (HALF) here now.

That's my story and I'm stickin to it.

Dan

  
      

     

Being in Lucca, Inside Out.

This experience in Lucca has been completely the opposite of my last visit here just two months ago. I didn't expect this type of change when I made the arrangements to return.  My expectation was that I would simply continue relating to the city and the region from a larger apartment situated outside the walls of the central city.  I chose the larger place to accommodate other guests.  It was an obvious choice to the facts that I had at the time.  More people will require more room.  More room is usually available outside the old city center. Easy to understand.

I didn't really understand why my relationship to the place was so different on this, my fifth, extended stay here.  I could only sense that something was upside down or inside out or whatever.  And then when I was about 5 miles out into the Tuscan countryside trying to locate a cluster of spectacular old villas that I had visited years ago, the obvious finally became obvious.  Why, of course.  It's the set of wheels that I'm using to get around!  Duh.

     

     

       Tuscany by bike.  It's a whole new world for me.

To be honest, I did have access to a free bicycle in a previous trip here.  The very first apartment I stayed in had a bicycle included with the rental.  And I did try it out once or twice.  But I gave up on it quickly because I felt much safer walking and then hopping onto public transportation in order to move about.  

Now, however, I have completely changed my mind and my first choice of getting around is on two wheels. It happened gradually, all of a sudden, sort of.  The apartment is located about a mile from Lucca's giant wall and the entrance to the old city center.  So, I have 3 choices when heading into the city center.  I can walk which takes about 12-15 minutes. I can walk about 3 minutes to the nearest bus stop and wait a few minutes for a bus to take me inside the city. Or, I can hop on the bike and get anywhere by going on top of the wall to my destination.  Decisions, decisions.  My mood and the weather forecast have a lot to do with how I choose how to travel.  Nice sunshine and moderate temperatures means use the bike. Temps in the 90's and dark clouds on the horizon usually suggests walking to the bus stop.  Late afternoon strolls are best on foot.

Even though the apartment is a bit far from the wall, it is extremely close to the bike paths that lead into the countryside.  Nice.

     

         Bike path along the Serchio river near Lucca.

The bike paths outside the city are great therapy.  The bike lanes inside the city are another universe.  Urban lanes tend to be well marked but they can suddenly disappear or merge onto busy streets with serious traffic.  Cars do watch out for bikes but it really keeps you on your guard to share the same space with cars, trucks, and busses.  Going up on the wall eliminates the cars and it's a welcome relief from the traffic below.  But what I noticed about riding on the wall is that my relationship with my surroundings changes when I'm riding.  Because I'm going faster that those people on foot, I have to keep looking in front of me and planning my next 50 yards based on what is there.  When I am on foot, I never need to look ahead and plan in advance. I can simply stroll and let other people avoid running into me.  I can actually see what I am going past.  I can notice things that I would miss on a bike.  The slow pace, allows me to be a part of the parade.  

Lucca is a perfect place for a bicycle because the area is quit flat and easily crossed by bike.  And the entire city, both inside and outside the walls is confined to a compact self contained space.  The city is known for it's large number of cyclists who use the bicycle as their primary means of transport.  It's fast, it's cheap, and if you are lucky enough to work in Lucca, a bicycle is a perfect way to get around.  And for the tourists, bicycles are a delightful way to explore.  

     

       Going shopping?  Taking the dog for a spin? Use the bike.

Using the bicycle takes me back to my childhood and the little town in the Midwest where I grew up.  The bicycle allowed me vastly expand my world. The bicycle was a bridge to the automobile and adulthood.  The bicycle made me independent.  The bicycle gave me employment (a paper route... back when people read a strange thing called a newspaper).  The bicycle was much more than a frame with two wheels.  It was my free ticket to the universe ,albeit a universe with city limits.  When I climb onto my bicycle here, I am able to turn my world here into something completely new.  

Life...inside out.

That's my story, and I'm stickin to it

     

     

Serendipity

I don't know how I can link together events that have occurred over the span of nearly five years and across 3 continents but I'm going to try.  The only common thread seems to be the idea of "Serendipity"...(the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way).  

This story begins in Yogyakarta on the Indonesian island of Java in December of 2017.  I was there to return to the place where I got my first REAL job teaching English for the U.S. State Department and the city where our first daughter, Bahiya, was born 45 years earlier.  It was a special place that I always wanted to go back to.  Best of all, the original Hotel where we first stayed stayed (The Purity Artha Hotel) was still in business and in the same location.  

     

            The courtyard of the Puri Artha Hotel in Yogyakarta

Christmas Eve, 2017.  The hotel was celebrating the night with a special dinner and entertainment for the guests.  I decided it would be fun so I agreed to attend.  The hotel assigned me to a table with another random traveler from Italy, named Sergio.  Sergio was stranded at the hotel while his wife was doing a Yoga workshop about 40 miles away in the city of Solo.  I was at the hotel waiting until I could get into my Airbnb Rental 4 days later.  We sort of talked a bit at the "soiree" but conversation was difficult over the noise.  But in the following days we would meet during the morning buffet at the hotel.  Much quieter and more leisurely.  

It was a nice time to chat since neither of us had an agenda.  Somehow during our morning chats, it seemed as though Sergio was  a representative for the Lucca Tourist Organization.  Lucca is located in Tuscany but I had never heard of the place.  Well, that was soon to change.  Sergio was determined.  Lucca was the most wonderful place on the planet.  Lucca was the middle of the Universe. Lucca was the alpha and Omega(look it up!) of existence.  Yup.  So...I decided to make my own decision.  In September of 2018, I called his bluff.  I'd make my own decision, thank you very much. 

Well.  As things unfolded, I had to eat crow.  

    

                 Sergio and Michele in Lucca in 2018

Lucca turned out to be fun, funny, historic, fascinating, playful, stunningly beautiful, and, for me, Paradise.  I just felt like I belonged there.

For those who have never heard of the place that I just stumbled upon(Serendipity!), I should at least try to describe what I found.  Lucca sits between the two historical big boys of Tuscany... Pisa and Florence.  In order to survive the constant threats to their survival, the people decided to build an enormous wall around the city...30 feet tall and 30 wide at the top.  100 years in the making and the massive wall was obsolete before the last bricks were cemented into place.  OK.

So the good folks of Lucca decided to turn the walls into a giant circular park.  It is this giant playground on top of the wall that draws thousands of people out of their apartments every afternoon.  It also attracts millions of people from around the globe searching for a totally different definition of relaxation.  Walk the wall, bike the wall, run the wall, meditate on the wall, get married on the wall, walk the dogs on the wall, gasp at the scenery from the wall. It's whatever you want to make it.

    

              On top of the wall/park in Lucca.  About 2 miles around.

So I came here by Serendipity.  I return out of choice.  

But Serendipity wasn't quite done with me yet. No way baby.

Yesterday, I had absolutely nothing planned.  I just knew I needed to get out of the apartment and walk into the inner city (the old Roman city inside the walls).  On a whim, I decided to visit the big exposition at the City Hall/Royal Palace, a huge monstrosity of a Baroque building in the center of the city.  This year the city invited artists around the world to exhibit their creations made only from paper/cardboard. Some of the bigger sculptures are placed around the city in outdoor locations.  The smaller and more delicate displays had to be protected indoors.  This exhibit inside was my destination.

     

       The old Royal Palace & current City Hall on Napoleon plaza

When I arrived at the Palace, I proceeded up the monumental staircase, and bought my entry ticket.  The woman behind the counter asked me if I wanted to purchase an audio guide to the exhibit... only $2.00.  Usually, I don't get the guide, but on a whim(Serendipity in fact) I decided to purchase the audio guide for the paper art works expo.  

As I wound my way through the gallery, I was stunned by the variety and beauty of what talented artists can do using only paper as a medium.  As I walked into a darkened room I was spellbound by a set of 3 hanging pieces that were displayed as circular panels and illuminated by a light in the center. 

    

          Magical scenes cut out of a sheet of paper, illuminated

As the light shown through the paper, a complex world of tiny creatures and magical events appeared.  This was unbelievable.  There was one other person in this room and I was a bit annoyed that she was touching these very delicate panels. Maybe she just wanted to see how they were made. Not my call to tell her to keep her hands off the display.  As I listened to the explanation of the art and the artist on my audio guide she approached me because she could hear the commentary. "Excuse me", she said in English.  I had nowhere to hide. She explained that she was trying to hear what was being said on the guide because SHE WAS THE ARTIST!!!  She just happened to be there when I stumbled in, overhead the comments, and introduced herself.  Was this Serendipity or what?

     

         Layla May Arthur--Paper Artist & Illustrator from Holland

My first reaction was " Sure you are.  And I'm the king of England. Nice to meet you.  Then I got a grip and started pumping her with questions. 

"How do you imagine the scenes on the panel?"

"Oh, you know from stories your parents told you when you were a child.".  (Not my parents.)

" How long does it take to finish a panel?"

"About 2-3 months."   2-3 MONTHS for a 2 foot sheet of paper!

"Do you work from a sketch?"

"Sometimes."  

"And the other times?"

"Oh you know, just from my imagination".  (I can't relate to that because I don't have any imagination)

" How do you make such delicate cuts on paper? "

"With a scalpel."  (Yup, a scalpel)

"How were you chosen to be an exhibitor?"

"By submitting a sample of my work online". (Of course.  Just like the rest of us.)

After about 15 minutes of non-stop questioning her, a group of school kids converged on us.  I introduced the artist to the group and made a hasty retreat for the exit.  I just couldn't handle any more Serendipity.  

So that's my story.  And I'm stickin to it.

Just for kicks.  Her website is viewable at:

www.laylamayarthur.com

The old man in the basement

I am constantly arguing with "the man in the basement".  That's the voice that always tells me how everything " coulda... woulda... shoulda " been done so I can avoid all of life's mistakes.  Needless to say, I make lots of mistakes during the course of a day.  And the old man in the basement is always in my head telling me what I coulda, woulda, shoulda done.  So now, as luck would have it, I am actually living full time in the basement here in Lucca.  It doesn't get any better than this.

My impression was that I was renting a traditional apartment... you know... on the second or third floor of a building.  I was very surprised to discover that my apartment was truly on the "piano terra" (the floor on the ground).  The second and third floors of the building are occupied by a set of business offices so I'm the only person around after about 6:00 PM till about 9:00AM the next business day.  The building itself sits at the end of a very quiet lane which connects to a very busy street leading into the city center.  

As is obvious, the building is set behind a wall with an electronic gate that I can open with  key fob.  The view from the back yard looks like this.

Oh great!  I even have my own lawn!  I hope I don't have to mow it.  Thus begins my adventure of finally getting to be the old man in the basement.  My experience so far in this place has really made me feel my age.  By that I mean, I grew up with appliances that had knobs and buttons.  If you needed to turn on the oven, you just turned a dial to the desired temperature and pushed the start button.  If you could read a temperature dial and locate the oven start button, cooking was relatively foolproof (especially for me).  If you needed to do a load of laundry, the same process could be followed.  Find the laundry detergent, throw in the clothes, decide the size of the load and the water temperature, and push the start button.  Everything was idiot proof.  Even I could function without too much trauma.

But my cozy little world of familiar appliance controls vanished here in my new apartment.  That's because all the appliances were new.  The apartment was totally repurposed from scratch just about a year ago and the listing was new on Airbnb when I found it in June.  I think the place may have been rented out once before me but everything in the space seems to be just out of the shipping container.  That wouldn't normally be a problem.  But the owner of the apartment who works in Lucca as a leasing agent had very little knowledge of all the details that would give me panic attacks for days.  The appliances were as much of a mystery to her as they were to me.

But wait... there's more.  The oven/stove wasn't a traditional oven.  No, no, no.  It was a combination, microwave/convection/normal oven with an endless number of possible settings.  Oh boy.  Just the right tool for me.  The washing machine wasn't just a washer.  It also doubles as a dryer but I have no idea how the drying feature works.  I was delighted to just get the right combination to wash my clothes.  I can easily just put the laundry on a drying rack under the Tuscan sun and wait about an hour for the clothes to dry.  Tech I can master.

Oh yes, and then there's the digital flat screen TV with the ever present remote.  I never met a remote that I understood.  But technology has left me so far in the dust that I am terrified of straying away from my "safe" haven of my Google YouTube channel.  I've tried several times to access my Amazon Prime service but I keep getting kicked out because they want my 2 step verification which uses my US cellphone number.  I'm in Italy.  My US cellphone service is useless here.  I have to use my Italian phone when I'm here because I'm here.  Duh!   Google it is for the next 7 weeks.

Fortunately, for me there was one piece of technology that came with the apartment that I was familiar with...the bicycle!  It's been nearly 50 years since I've been on a bicycle for more than 10 minutes or used one as a means of transport.  Indonesia in the early 70's was the last time I used a bicycle to get around. But here in Lucca, bicycles are extremely useful. The land is flat and car and truck drivers are very careful around cyclists.  Better yet, urban areas ASSUME lots of people will be using bikes.  There are dedicated walking/biking lanes on all the major streets and outside the city there are actual bike paths that allow people to move about on bikes without other traffic.  Bicycles in most of Italy aren't toys.  They are a genuine, useful way to move around.  

The most delightful feature of these wonderful local bicycles is how easy they are to operate.  They are effortless to pedal, especially on flat roads/paths and many of the ones like mine have only one gear.  You can see on my vehicle that there is a shopping basket in front and another rack on the back for carrying stuff as well.  The hand brakes are precise and strong and this one has front and rear LED lights to let others know where you are.  So for all my struggles with the modern technology giving me fits, I really have to admit that racing around the city on a bicycle makes me feel like a kid again as I take on the larger world that the bicycle opens up. Rolling around Lucca on wheels makes me forget about going back to being the old man in the basement.  

Yup.  That's my story.  And I'm stickin to it.

Dan