Beauty, Brutality and Silver Linings

We popped into an Amalfi shop the last day of our Italy trip. The butterflies were everywhere this butterfly girl looked. What are the odds? The next day we journeyed back to Rome for one last night before departure. I had no idea what awaited. I simply can’t make this stuff up!

Since Dale (my hubs) was still harboring ‘something’, I hired a driver recommended by our hotel concierge for the five-hour trip to Rome.  When he picked us up, I gave him the name of our hotel. I love finding unique out of the way places to stay.

“I not heard of this.” He said. 

“Really? It has great reviews and it’s five-star.” I boasted.

He entered the address into his GPS. Five hours later, he was still looking for it. Even the GPS had trouble. Finally, he called the hotel number I gave him and they gave directions.

“I not know this even here.” he said driving through the wrought iron gate. “I drive client’s airport every day.” I heard him babbling to himself.

I felt so proud to have found a fabulous hotel even a native didn’t know about. Score, Prissy!

The facade and surrounding grounds reminded me of one of the plantations in Thomasville, Georgia. Hidden elegance, quiet isolation. When we checked in the gentleman suggested we make dinner reservations at the hotel restaurant. We were exhausted and that sounded great.

“Perhaps, 8:30 since we invite you to our wine reception at 7:00.” he said. 

“I love meeting new people, let’s do that.” I tell Dale.

We were shown to our beautiful room where two of these were laid out on our plush king-size bed.

I opened our French style window and admired our view as seen below.

I pulled out the only clean clothes left after two LONG weeks on the trail.  An indulging bath– in the luxurious bathtub– called out. I answered. There were so many products to choose from I decided to test them all. I was surprised to find they even had hair serum, a real bonus for a traveling lady. I applied a dab to the ends of my dried-out locks before we left for the reception.

When we arrived, all dolled up, we were turned away.

“You must wear robes.” We were told by the waiter holding glasses of delicious chardonnay on a silver tray.

“What… robes… we have dinner reservations over there.” I pointed to the fancy restaurant next to us, across from the ‘reception’ headquarters.

 “I’m sorry but we require robes at reception.” he repeated.

Say what…. you crazy a*s people!!!

Do you know where I’m going with this? 

Prissy had found herself a ‘Far Outside the Ordinary‘ place alright. It was a Roman Bath retreat.

I think we call it a ‘nudist colony’ in our language. Furthermore, that serum in my hair wasn’t serum at all. The words ‘personal care’ on those three bottles in the bathroom were, well…maybe, more personal.

I scrubbed my hair when we returned from dinner that evening…. fully clothed, by the way!

And that was just the last day of a two-week Italy adventure, a vacation I desperately needed. The first two weeks…well, they were crazier. However, I’ve learned to make lemonade with my lemons. And, sometimes, I even add vodka. And yes, this was a vodka added time.

I’ve been an absent writer for months. My blog is such a passive little thing, sitting quietly in the backseat. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. I spin around on my wheels, with loudmouths and high-maintenance (meetings and marketing) riding shotgun in my life.

The most demanding riders always steal the show and my attention. Note to self: One shouldn’t birth multiple offspring…the quiet one always get neglected. Too late, Prissy!

The fury and force of Hurricane Hermine…my goodness! To say it reaped havoc on this beautiful, southern city would be a travesty in narrative description. Thousands lost power for days, even weeks, as temperatures soared to 90+ degrees.

Many picturesque and historical live oak trees were destroyed. Our home became a refuge for family, friends, even a stranger or two. It took a village to help this village. We wouldn’t know it then, but, Hurricane Matthew was waiting around the corner with more Florida destruction. Friends on the east coast can attest to that. Two nasty hurricanes: Hermine and Matthew!

Days later I was struck with more devastation. So much worse. Charlotte Horne, my dear friend (see below) lost her battle with breast cancer. She was one of the most perfect human beings God ever created. My fractured heart is scarred forever more.

There is a ladder of grief I need to climb: Shock/Denial. Pain/Guilt. Anger. Depression/Reflection. Acceptance/Hope. My brain keeps telling my aching heart the pain will lessen. I wait. Still.

There would be more heartache.  A family friend diagnosed with cancer. The death of a child. The murder of a friend.  Two sides of life: beauty and brutality. Coping. Always coping.

I had to excavate and find some way to restore the creativity buried in my soul. Dale took me to Italy. I was certain pleasure awaited and I could heal. Life keeps its own agenda though. Italy became a story. It became this blog, as a matter of fact.

I like to be prepared. Before we left the country, I pre-ordered my No-Jet-Lag http://www.nojetlag.com. I followed directions to the tee. I’m that kind of girl. And, by golly, it worked. A big ‘thank-goodness’ since I had no idea what awaited. 

If you read my book you already know I’m the last living authority on everything I know nothing about. It was never more apparent than when we landed in Rome after our ten-hour flight. I was positive Dale had a blood clot. I based my diagnosis on his racing heart, profuse sweating, nausea, and a slight cramp in his leg. You would too, right?

I immediately hauled his fanny from the airport to the hospital. Well, there was a pit stop between the two places.  However, my word count would be way too high if I explained. 

I asked our driver to drop us at the ER entrance. We were only two steps inside and my suspected diagnosis fell from my dehydrated mouth in a southern slang.  The ER personnel understood nothing I said. Furthermore, they were too busy for google translate to translate. I thought someone spoke English in foreign hospitals. Umm….wrong! Nada! Non comprendevano!

Someone looked at him (or me) and injected a syringe into his chest. This was followed by two EKG’s, an echocardiogram, a chest x-ray, and vials and vials of blood drawn three-hours apart. Okay, maybe I did misdiagnose. But something was wrong. Why else would they try to keep him overnight?!** Dale refused to stay. Go Dale!

It would be thirteen long hours before we fled that place, against the advice of the only English speaking doctor I could find. I confess I did sit up all night watching him sleep, No-Jet-Lag hanging nearby. What the heck is in that stuff??!* 35 hours after my first dose, I was still wide awake. And hungry. There was no food in the hospital or hotel.

Early next morning we hit the Rome streets full throttle with friends- Paul and Mary Kikta- running beside us. Two days squeezed into one: Vatican, Sistine Chapel, St. Peters, flea markets and everything in between. 7 a.m. to midnight. Yes, I was still going– like a battery. Shocking! 

One good thing, I met Mr. and Mrs. Bruno Limentani in that God-forsaken hospital waiting room. They told me they owned a family retail business nearby and suggested we visit the next day. And we did…OMG…we did! It was more than a shop– dear, humble, Italian couple–so much more!

Ditta Leone Limentani, is known as ‘ Cocciari of Rome’. The store was founded by Leo Limentain in 1820 and Bruno is seventh generation. They manufacture fine porcelain china for famous leaders all over the world…Shah of Iran, Tito of Yugoslavia, the Pope, all the china for the Vatican.  We got a VIP tour with Bruno as our guide. It was a good day… a very good day… a silver lining day. 

“Don’t you just love silver linings?” I asked Dale. He never answered.
We left Rome the next day for a week of cooking in Termoli, Italy. I was certain the worst was behind me . I mean him.

As we journeyed–on a bus, ugh–I noticed my patient was either scratching or sleeping.

Now what?!*

My diagnostician brain was at work, again. When we finally arrived early evening, he was covered in hives, a rash and very strange marks. They were everywhere.

I asked the small group leader where I might find a pharmacy, explaining my concern over the unknown medication he received in Rome.  My concern fed her concern…she summoned a doctor.

Within fifteen minutes the doctor arrived, along with two nurses and an ambulance. Poof! Dale was snatched and sirened away. I was left behind, stunned, a breath away from the Adriatic Sea.

There would be more tests, more shots, more hours. At midnight, he was finally released from the hospital. And, again, no diagnosis. Lordy me… we still had thirteen days to go!  

Fortunately, Maria Laura Pace, our guide, sat with me in the Termoli waiting room for hours.  She became my second silver lining.

She and I shared stories: history, joy and pain. What a beautiful soul she has. I think we knew each other in some other life. It felt like it, our synergy electric. Laura is a worldly entrepreneur with so many talents. Check out her blog: http://www.laura-selection.com. 

I might put my travel hat back on again for a 2017 project and take small groups to ‘out of the box’ destinations in Italy.  If you want your name on my information list, post on my blog, or IM Facebook. It will be a ‘Far Outside the Ordinary‘ adventure for the few who tag along with us. 

After three long days and two hospital visits, it was time to chase and capture some Italian fun. And we did, moment by moment, day by day. Italy is one of the most beautiful countries in Europe and my personal favorite. It fed my heart and soothed my soul.

Old Abruzzi & Molise

Epicurean Cooking: A full week residing and cooking within the walled, medieval enclave of Termoli, Italy. Residenza Sveva (where we stayed) and Restaurati Svevia (where we cooked) pays homage to the Sveva synasty, with its greatest splendor in the 13th century.

Termoli is such a magical, timeless town with surroundings of Frederick 11 of Sveva fortifications and its charming castle. This ancient town stands at the top of a cape and is known as Borgo Vecchio (old village) and juts out over the Adriatic Sea. It looks like a small fortified cathedral, with tiny squares and alleys. One of the narrowest alleys in Europe is found there. It’s called Vico 11 Castello.

 

Highlights of our culinary week: Olive Mill tour and tasting at Colonna estate; Sommelier Wine Pairing Class; Pasta and Truffle Cooking Class, Vineyard Tour and Tastings, Vasto Tour and Trabuco Fishing House, Peasant Food Cooking Class, Antipasti Cooking Class, Visit to Agnone and Bell Foundry, Cheese Making and Factory Tour, 12th Century Cathedral Tour, Guided Fish Market Tour, Pizza Making Class. 

We visited so many exotic places frequented by so few. Then it was back to our quaint, charming village to cook with our five-star-chef. The word fantastic does not suffice!

We visited Princess Marina Colonna’s Dimora Rurale estate, in her family for over 200 years. She produces extra virgin olive oils and citrus oils for William-Sonoma and Dean and De Luca.

Then her personal chef served lunch on the grounds, after we learned the process of making olive oil. Amazing!

One day we took a tour of Vasto and its historical center and dined on a unique Trabuco fishing house which jutted out into the sea. I drank… a lot… waiting for…’huff, puff, I’ll blow your house down!

Below: The famous Caseificio Di Nuccia.  Founded in 1662. Most awarded cheese in Italy

I’m with Franco Di Nucci and his lovely wife. He is tenth generation in family company

Below: Vineyard tour, wine tasting & dinner at Il Quadrifoglio Agriturismo….divine!

And just like that our week was over. We packed up our gear and hired a driver. Dale and I were bound for the next leg of our trip. And yes, he still had the rash, hives and itching. He was miserable!  Poor Dale, my traveling trouper. What a guy!

Amalfi Coast…

My first visit to Italy was in college. I’m lucky to have traveled there several times with Boone and our girls. I even escorted a large group of twenty-five to Rome, Venice, Florence and Milan. That was back in the day when I wore my travel consultant hat.

I have no idea why I ever skipped the Amalfi coast.  Positano, Praiano, Tramonti, Atrani, Minori, Amalfi, Ravello, Capri, Sorrento. The moment we arrived it felt like home. Each place had a unique flavor with a delicious taste. Indescribable! 

My grandparents were from Palermo. Maybe that’s why it felt so right, like I belonged, was even meant to live there. Yet, somehow, I ended up on another continent… by mistake.

 

I think the nudist hotel suited our vacation, a perfect way to end the trip. Had I been thirty years younger, shaved my legs, and consumed some of my vodka infused lemonade, who knows, I might would have worn that robe for free chardonnay.

We flew home the next morning from Rome, the poor hubby still scratching, both of us laughing.

The silver lining…

My creativity was rebirthed after this trip. Once again, I am reminded of the magnificent artistry of our Creator. His world is simply splendiferous!

Stay tuned for my next Blog: Mystery, Magazine and Movie Blitz

And don’t forget to let me know if you are crazy enough to travel back to Italy with me. I’ll send you one of my informational packets. That is…when I get around to putting one together. 

Cheers and hugs!

Prissy