Today, on the first day of spring, Florence got its snow.
Tuscany is not a region of Italy where snow falls very often, so the flurry of white flakes has brought a bit of uncertainty and a lot of joy to all of us. Without much means for cleaning up after the snow, roads and sidewalks were slippery, and subsequently, schools and some public offices were closed.
Walking through the city, it felt like a Saturday, when families and couples take the time to enjoy the day together.
Children and dogs alike rejoiced in the snow;
and parents offered their creative solutions for making the most of their children’s fun in the snow.
Today was a long workday for me and my work partner,
so we took advantage of being out and about
and dodging snowballs
on this special day in Florence, that gave us a new perspective on the sites we’ve become so accustomed to looking the same nearly every day.
The winter wonderland was fleeting, nearly all but disappearing before the sun went down.
But the memories, and lots of photos, will last forever.
There are two types of people in the world: those that love Venice, and those that really don’t. It seems rare to find someone that has a neutral opinion of Venice. I get both sides – Venice can be crowded, touristy at times, hard to navigate, it doesn’t have the best weather, and then there’s the flooding issue.
But despite all of its flaws, the architecture, ambiance, and sheer novelty of Venice are undeniable, and it is hard to argue against ranking it as one of the cities in the world that should be on everyone’s bucket list. I’ll never forget stepping out of the train station the very first time, and stopping on the steps to take it all in: the view of San Simeone Piccolo proudly standing as the backdrop of the flurry of activity on the canal, right in front of me. It almost felt like being in a dream.
That trip taught me which type of person I am – the kind that loves Venice. I’ve made countless trips to Venice since that first time in 2011, and I hope to make countless more.
As Carnevale 2016 comes to a close today, Venice is on my mind. Here’s to many more gorgeous carnevali to come!!
This photo is perhaps the most “illustrious” of my “instants” so far. The photo isn’t meant to demonstrate fabulous composition, color, movement, etc. The photo taking is normal, but the subjects are wonderful.
I took this photo because this relationship – daughter and mother taking a simple afternoon stroll -represents Italy for me in a special way. The unconditional love and family ties that still run deep in this country are a joy to witness.
I am always grateful for the perspective that witnessing moments like these in countries other than my own have given me, and I hope for the same opportunities for you as well!
It was almost exactly one year ago today that this moment was captured, on one of those blissful Sunday afternoons with friends and nothing else on your mind to distract you and keep you from enjoying every second of now. I had nothing on the agenda other than relaxing, eating, and catching up with/getting to know the gals.
It is one of those memories that is still as vibrant as the colors in these photos, and will not soon fade. The restaurant, Fienile Fluo, is in the perfect location, but unfortunately the food isn’t perfect, and the service is even worse. It is the place to go for a day like this: when you have a lot of time, you have great company so you don’t demand a lot of attention, and you aren’t so concerned with the quality of your meal. In the perfect storm when most of these conditions are met, you can’t ask for a better place to be.
Meat and cheese plates are great choices at places like this where food quality is inconsistent.
I broke away from lunch for a bit to take a few pictures. There was lots of action to capture…like the family dog…
A tractor…;)
I couldn’t take a bad shot. Bologna, while unfortunately stuck in a valley that traps bad weather, also reaps the advantages of being surrounded by these gorgeous hills (called “colli” in Italian). After a long winter of bearing the brunt of the cold, emerging into the hills was the perfect way to celebrate the spring. A life full of afternoons like these is certainly a happy life…I wish for more of them for you and me. 🙂
The view from the Rialto bridge in Venice is – in a word – indescribable. Yes, you are submerged in tourists. But if you can just face forward and take a deep breath and let the beauty of Venice pour in, you will never forget the moment. The curve of the Grand Canal teeming with activity just below your feet, the pastel painted buildings lining the water with bobbing boats parked steps away. Yesterday was a warm, sunny day, and the canal was gleaming with energy. Even the birds seemed to know this was the place to be.
Living far away from home isn’t always easy. But this sunset view of St. Peter’s Basilica just off of the Piazza dei Cavalieri di Malta in Rome has a way of melting away all of my homesickness. Just one gentle sweep of my eyes across the Roman rooftops and all my worries are gone…
Do you ever find yourself on vacation, overwhelmed by the beauty that you’ve walked into, and in a momentary moment of emotional clarity, wonder what you ever did to deserve experiencing this beauty?
The first occurrence of that moment on my trip to Ojai, California, came to me during this sunset, with the blue mountains crisply running across the horizon and soft pink light illuminating from behind them as if painted by watercolor, highlighting little puffs of clouds running above the silhouette of a solitary oak tree. I thought, “This is Ojai. How did I get here??”
A signature for Ojai, the “Pink Moment” is a rare pink effect in the sunset occurring right before the sun sets, and happens thanks to Ojai’s east-west running Sulphur and Topatopa Mountains.
But there is oh-so much more to find here in Ojai. A little-known gem about an hour east of Santa Barbara, Ojai is the name for “moon” in the language of the Chumash Indians, who were among the first to discover this valley. The area is characterized by a mediterranean climate making it ideal for olive and grape growing, harkening back my memories of traveling through Puglia, Italy, and many train trips through the valleys and gently rolling golden hills of Tuscany.
Needless to say, Ojai plays host to countless artists looking for – and finding – inspiration. Here, on this incredible backdrop, I am here to help support a group of playwrights developing new plays for the American theatre, and supported by directors, actors, producers, and theatre professionals. They gather annually for the Ojai Playwrights Conference in search of their figurative “Pink Moment,” where the intersection of their creative processes creates something that will resonate in the imaginations and the hearts of their future audiences.
What makes the “Pink Moment” special is its rarity and intangibility. We come to Ojai, and other beautiful places, looking to be inspired by this beauty. But if we have to prepare ourselves for it – it doesn’t wait for us. And we often miss them, or don’t recognize them when we see them. I’m here, and I’m ready! Hope you are too. 🙂
This is my summer of re-love. I have returned to the United States for a mere two months, as I have done each summer since I relocated to Bologna, Italy three years ago. And I have been gifted a unique opportunity to be a tourist in my own country in the places that I once took for granted – places that I visited often for my whole life, and places that I lived. New York, Pittsburgh, Washington DC, and Southern California to be exact.
My father always told me that if I wanted to understand my relationship with a place I lived or a place I loved, I need to leave that place for some time before I can really have a good perspective on that place. Boy, was he right.
Every year that I have returned to America I have had a new perspective on it. But this summer is different. This summer is the summer that I have finally understood and accepted these places into my heart and how my connection to these places is forever embedded into my hard-wiring. And I am returning and truly appreciating everything, even the bad.
My first stop since arriving in America this summer is New York. My father’s side of the family immigrated to New York in the early 1900’s and lived in Brooklyn. My godmother and godfather moved out of the city decades ago to a tiny city along the Hudson River called Ossining.
The snapshot above is my favorite on my trip this far. Taken on the bank of the Hudson river, I am at left with my godmother Suzanne on the right, who is a second mother to me. In the picture below, thirty-three years ago, my godmother is holding me in almost the exact same spot where we are standing above on the bank of the Hudson River.
To think of everything that has happened in the 33 years since this picture was taken is pretty overwhelming. But this beautiful place is the same as it has always been, to me at least. Just an hour’s train ride from Grand Central Terminal, this other world of rolling hills and majestic lake views is sometimes easier to get to than Brooklyn. I realize I am lucky to have this beautifulness in my life, a place my dad has gone back to for decades, and a place my godmother still calls home. But I think we all have these beautiful places in our memories and in our hearts that are part of what makes us who we are. Sometimes it just takes some time to re-love them again.
A sunset this heavenly seems fit only for a date of equally epic proportions – Romeo, perhaps? Well, this is Verona, Italy, seen vividly in my sunset shot from my trip last weekend. And I guarantee you, Verona’s capacity for romance doesn’t disappoint. If you buy your plane tickets now, you might just be able to claim Romeo as your valentine. And if you are good at keeping secrets, his address is via Arche Scaligeri 2. Shhhhhhh!
Don’t worry, I’ll keep Juliet occupied. 😉 She’s pretty much just a bronze statue these days anyway, so I think we’ve got it in the bag.
Happy valentine hunting!
Best of Verona, a set on Flickr.
Today I experienced that moment – that unmistakable moment – when my sunny carefree Sunday suddenly got kicked up a notch. The sky overloaded with giant, moving grey clouds, the wind began to kick my hair around, and that hot, sticky world that normally consumes me the second I leave home or work suddenly went away and what came instead was a chill and an unmistakable sense of foreboding.
But somehow, I didn’t mind. Just like all the other people at the Boat House restaurant in Ossining, NY, didn’t mind. Why not? What is so magical about a summer storm? The unexpectedness of the experience? The visual drama? The weather?
In my former corner of the world in the south of California, summer storms are nearly non-existent. So my fond memories of these experiences all come from my summers spent in New York City. To me, summer rain IS New
York City. The drama, the smell, and the temporary urgency fleetingly catapult me back in time fifteen years to walking to acting class on the lower west side of Manhattan in July and racing for cover under the nearest overhang, only to discover four construction workers doing the exact same thing who subsequently became my new best friends.
A study in contrasts, a summer storm is all at once overbearingly dramatic, yet not in the slightest bit threatening. The torrential wind and downpour is dramatic but warm, and somehow, not dangerous. There is a universal understanding that this storm will be over soon, and life will go on as before. In fact, life will even be a little more bearable with that slight breeze in the air, a cleaner city, and humidity washed away with the storm.
Today I experienced the magic of the summer storm from a perfect vantage point – front row seats at the picture window facing the Croton Bay at the Boat House restaurant in Ossining, NY. Guests sitting just outside the window on the patio ran inside for cover in a fit of temporary hysteria – hair flying, makeup running, food drenched.
But my family and I sat inside, dry and entertained, and relished the beauty of the moment. These moments that I cherish, that I rarely experienced in my life in the west.
These photos are of the end and the aftermath of the storm. And what a reward it was to discover the bay like this. Just a short train ride from Grand Central Station, this place instead feels worlds apart from the bustle of the city. The perfect place to relish a summer storm.