Italian Dispatch #2

This one's being typed as we ride the train to Florence. Actually, it's the train to Pisa that we'll be swapping for the train to Florence shortly. It's not the train we have tickets for, to tell the truth, but as long as you have a ticket that has been stamped by the little yellow boxes at the station and that have a destination on them, you're golden. At least we think that's the case since the conductor just checked our tickets and didn't say much of anything. Hell, we're not even in our assigned seats. This would not fly in Germany.

Since it's been a couple of days, and much has happened, I'll break this note up by event. Think of them as chapters.

Friday: More Wine!

Let me start by saying that even though I haven't seen all of Italy yet nor will I by the time we leave, Tuscany is my favorite place on earth. It's a very hilly country and the motto seems to be 'Have hill, will terrace'. And if you have a terrace, you have wine. Lovely. Anyway, the bus driver picked us up around 1:30 on Friday in a bus that was much too large to be driven on windy Italian streets. The trip from Santa Margherita Ligure to a vineyard in Lucca took a little over two hours, mainly because the driver got lost. We arriveda bit late but, trust me, it was worth it. The vineyard, whose name escapes me at the moment, was a true Villa. A lovely old mansion perched on a hill surrounded by 60 acres of vines, olive trees and wild flowers. Our guide, Nello, was the perfect, relaxed expert. He didn't really give us a presentation but would move from small group to small group answering questions and sharing his experiences. For our rowdy bunch, this proved the perfect approach. After a tour of the grounds and the cellars, we were treated to a 'horizontal tasting' while sitting at a long bench filled with local olives (which Brookeactually ate AND liked), salami and fresh parmesan. A horizontal tasting, we were told, involves drinking different wines of the same or close vintages (the opposite, a 'vertical' tasting, is drinking the same wine over a span of vintages to see how the grape changes and matures over time). We started with a chardonnay then progressed through Sangiovese, Merlot and Cabernet. Brooke was drunk by the Sangio and the entire party got 50 dB louder by the Merlot. It was brilliant. Thanks to Brooke's Aunt Ann and her penchant for sweet wines, we were treated to one of the best dessert wines I've ever tasted. A twenty year old wine call Vin Santo. Brooke's cousin Ken and I fell in love with it immediately. When we inquired how much a 375 ml bottle would cost, we were told 15 Euros. That's right, 1 and 5 with no zeros between. Ken and I immediately ordered two each and started talking about getting an importation license. We figured we could get $15 a glass in the US. Oh, and the bonus was that they're 500 ml bottles...

After staying a little longer than we were supposed to, we were whisked back down to the second vineyard where we were too late for a tour of the cellar. Instead, we had yet more wine (an 'apperitivo') before sitting down to a multi-course meal at their restaurant. Italians like their courses and, if my belly is any indication, so do I. And, of course, there was more wine. The food was 'phenomenal' (Brooke's new favorite word) and I only wish that we'd gotten a menu so that I could tell you what we had. By the time we all boarded the bus for the trek home, we were all ready for a nap. This was good because the bus home took almost 3 hours because the driver would only drive 80 km/hr and kept flashing his brights. At first, we feared he was a bit drunk but seeing that he was very alert, we settled on night-blind. He would only speed up when we were in lighted tunnels. Luckily, a good 50% of the highway goes through such tunnels so we were spared a maximum 5-hour trip. We arrived back at the hotel a little after midnight and were all whisked quickly off to sleep…

Saturday: Wedding On!

Up at the lag-induced hour of 7 am, Brooke and I started our big day. Well, Brooke did at least. Having little to do besides don my suit and smile big for the cameras, I spent most of my day eating, visiting and getting on Brooke's nerves. She was off to the hairdresser's at 10:30 and that was the last I would see of her until the actual wedding. That's not to say I wasn't assigned errands to run, oh no. But, having spent over 48 hours in Italy, I'd already adopted the local lifestyle…at least in as much as I didn't really feel like I needed to hurry for anything or anyone. This was not to Brooke's liking as she had yet to acquire the same local customs. Luckily, after she had snapped a few times and I had a glass or two of wine with lunch, we got everything sorted out and amazingly everyone arrived at the Villa Durazzo on time and in costume. The ceremony itself was done in both Italian and English and was quite lovely. The MC of the wedding (we're not sure if he was a priest or not…he had an eyebrow ring) did a great job with everything except our names. We are now known as 'Shhaaaouuun' and 'Brrrrrrroooookaaaa' here in Italy but, in the end, we were ok with this. In fact, we like our new names so much, we've been calling each other by them. Anyway, Brooke just reminded me that when we woke up that morning, it was pouring down (and to the left and right) rain. It cleared up shortly before the wedding but not before the MC told us an Italian proverb: 'A wet bride is a lucky bride' which was followed by 'I am not sure about the groom'. Everyone laughed except Shaaouuun, who just snickered.

After the ceremony, we were all whisked down to the Grand Hotel Miramare for the reception in the taxi vans we'd rented. Well, most everyone was whisked. The groom and a few others couldn't fit so they hoofed it. Good times. The reception was AMAZING! The hotel is one of the oldest in the area and is straight out of a James Bond movie. I was wearing a suit and felt underdressed compared to the bellhops (I'm kicking myself for not forcing the white tuxedo issue!). We were served cocktails and tasty appetizers for an hour or so during which time Shaun and Brooke led a couple of tours of our room. We had reserved a normal room but got upgraded…twice! First to a junior suite and then to a corner suite on the top floor. It was bigger than Pat and Melissa's apartment in Boston! Two balconies, two bathrooms and, I kid you not, switches next to the bed to summon either a porter or a maid (they each had their own switch). I was so impressed, I've decided to install such switches in our apartment when I get home. The hard part is going to get Brooke to wear the little porter outfit I bought…

So, after cocktails and a few trips up stairs, we were escorted into the reception room where we were served several courses and plied with much wine. This time my memory doesn't have to serve because we saved the menu. Of course, it's exactly like the one that we selected and posted on our website so I won't bore you with the details. During the final course, I gave a little speech. Actually, I gave two speeches because I forgot to thank Brooke's parents for making it possible in my first speech. I'm an idiot. Anyway, after that, Brooke's father gave a speech that brought tears to most everyone's eyes. It was then I realized I needed a better speechwriter and fired myself. It had to be done.

When we had finished the final course, we spent the better part of 45 minutes thanking everyone for coming and kissing them all goodbye. All save Pat, Melissa, Tido and Lozianna (aka Pitterpatter, Mel-e-mel, Burrito and Baton Rouge, respectively – I'm big on nicknames), that is. The six of us got a couple of bottles of wine from the bar (that they delivered to our room…again, I'm a rube) and adjourned to the antechamber of our room to discuss travel plans and generally catch up (a little backstory: Tido, Pat and I all went to college together. Tido's German and Pat and I haven't seen him since 2000 when we graduated. We're all very lucky men who have found women that can tolerate us). After an hour or so, Brooke and I gave them the boot and passed out with exhaustion. Getting married is hard work…

Sunday: Cinque Terre with Mr & Mrs. Burrito

Most all of our guests left S. Margherita Ligure in the early morning after the wedding. Tido and Lozianna stuck around for the day, however, and we all decided to head down to the Cinque Terre in the afternoon. Cinque Terre (pronounced 'Chinn-qwaa Tear-ra') means 'five lands' and is made up of five small towns on the rocky coast all joined by footpaths. It's a beautiful place to hike and, if you're Brooke, freeze to death. We walked from the southern most town (Riomaggiore) north to the next town (Manarola) where we ate lunch. Pesto was invented in this region and we all ate our weight in it at lunch. Also, we tried some of the local white wine which has a reputation for being slightly salty thanks to the sea air. I'm happy to report that it does taste slightly salty and very tasty. After lunch, we took the train to Vernazza because the footpath was closed due to a rockslide. There, we wandered around, climbed to the top of a lookout tower for a Euro and drank more coffee. Oh, I forgot to mention that we stopped about every 2 hours for an espresso. Also, we have one after every meal. How the Italian's can drink so much
espresso and be so relaxed is a mystery of science. Personally, I walk around either food-sleepy or wired for sound most of the day. Anyway, after several photo shoots, we took the train back north and got booted from a train about 5 stops from home because of 'technical problems'. Not with our tickets but with the train itself. It was a luck boot, however, since we found a nearby store where Brooke was able to purchase a jacket, dubbed by me as the 'Eurotrash jean jacket'. It's got a funny fur lining which makes it both chic and mod (though not nearly as mod as Chris Broom's orange pants, which but a lucky few of us have had the pleasure of seeing in action). But, it was inexpensive and keeps her from the shiver-and-whine routine that she'd been developing. We got the next train back home and had our first pizza of the trip before saying good night and goodbye to Tido and Lozianna. The pizza was very good (though we were told that it would be better in Rome) and the company was most excellent. Burrito is a great guy and I miss hanging out with him dearly. Like Pat and myself with our wives, he's been very lucky in finding such a rare gem in Lozianna and we were happy to get to spend the day with them.

Well, that brings you up to the present. We're about 10 minutes from Pisa and our train change. I hope this dispatch finds you all well. More to follow.

-Shaun

ps-- We actually made if from Pisa to Florence without anyone even asking for our tickets! I'd like to forgo even getting them from this point forward but Brooke's out voted me. You see, as a husband my vote only counts 2/3rds. Ciao...