Murano and Burano

Word of the post is vaporetti, meaning water taxi; as in “The vaporetti was cool for the first 20 minutes but that last 20 it was just cold.”

Off the City of Venice there are several small islands. My friends Eileen, Kimberly and I traveled to two of them. The island of Murano is only about 1.5 Km away from Venice, while Burano is about 7 km. We took the train from Sacile to Venice. Before we started the journey to Murano we paused for Spritzers, which is a mid afternoon drink made of bitters, white wine, club soda, lemon and oranges-many people like them, I’m not a fan. Once we were fortified with Italian wine, we took a vaporetti to Murano.

Eileen enjoying a spritzer

Our view from the cafe and the vaporetti dock

I went on this trip mostly because I wanted something to do and also, because Kimberly was interested in buying Burano lace. It turns out that Murano is something to see and not just a bunch of overpriced glass. Vendors cover the city with not really shops, but instead galleries of their work. Murano glass making goes at least as far back as the 9^th century when glassmakers were sent to Murano from Venice as a way to protect their craft from the destructive Venetian Republic.

People I met in Aviano have a bowl or vase from Murano and that’s really all I associated it with. The Murano have items that vary from wine stoppers to intricate mirrors.  In the town squares there are giant sculptures that are large, detailed works of art. Mosaics decorate the outside of many of these shops so you feel like you are visiting museums rather than proprietorships. While you may have no intention of buying glass at that particular juncture, you are kept quite busy marveling at how somebody was able to make tiny glass grapes that are carefully adhered to a ginormous chandelier. So, I found that whether you are looking to buy a fancy bowl or just appreciate fine craftsmanship, Murano is a cool place to go.

The very colorful Burano is about 30 minutes on the vaporetti from Murano. The island’s homes stand out because each house sports a different vivid hue. I read that the houses were painted so vividly because the fishermen wanted to be able to recognize their homes from sea. Venetian lace was said to have started there after a seaman gave his lady seaweed as a token, she then wanted it replicated in threads. I was very excited to see Burano and its beautiful handcrafted lace. Various books warn against stuff manufactured in Japan, but I couldn’t tell what was what and so I bought some things from a cute Italian couple. I am forever thankful that I know numbers in Italian because that was all I needed in my attempts at bartering down the prices.

 

It turns out that it can take about an hour to an hour and a half by train to get to Venice, 10 minutes to take a vaporetti to get to Murano and another 30 to get Burano. Travel is exponentially longer when one is not driving, but it also a lot more noteworthy. Next time we will start out in the early morning because we left plenty of shops uncovered. At any event, I considered this a scouting mission and intend to do some serious damage once we have our house in order.

 

-Also noteworthy, I just realized that I wrote bowel instead of bowl throughout this, I am very pleased I caught that. And fixed.

Viva La Carnivale!

The word of the post is: litro/litre, meaning liter, as in “The more litre of wine I drink the better my Italian becomes…or is that the wine talking?

AVIANO

Randy and I moved to Italy just in time for Carnevale. During the first sleep deprived weeks I heard people mention Venice at its Carnival, but I didn’t really get it until Carnevale weekend.  We saw signs all over the place and were lucky to happen upon not one, but two, major Carnevale celebrations.

 

Each year many communities prepare for lent with a festival. We know this as Mardi Gras, but in Italy it is also Carnevale season. The actual word carnival is a derivative of a Latin word that means “Farewell, meat.” During the weeks preceding Lent Italians would use up their meat, butter, and eggs while partying before the season’s fasting began. 

This was the Norm

  Venice has a special tradition for Carnevale which began in 1162 in celebration of the Republic’s victory over Ulrico of Aquileia. Since then, Venice Carnevale centers in Piazza San Marco where the first festivity hosted bull and pig slaughtering for its people. Venice Carnevale is special because of its unique use of masks and costumes which began around 1268. Masks were worn as a social protest to the delineation in social statuses. The government restricted such identity coverage to only the Carnivale season.

We're not Partying...We're Protesting the Established Social Order

  Many of the cities in Northeast Italy celebrate their own Carnivale with a local festival and parade. We knew that our own Aviano had a little party, but we didn’t really think about it. We were just lucky enough to stumble upon it when we were walking the dogs. We heard some jamming music and saw a disproportionate number of Zorros, Princesses, and Spidermen (I have no idea why these three costumes seem to be the way to go here) and realized that today was Carnivale!

When in Rome, er...Aviano

Well, we cancelled our gym plans-we had good intentions-called up our good friends Kirby, Emily, and Lily and got our Carnivale on. We wandered into the city center and had hot wine and crispy, cinnamon things for less than 5 euro for all of us! (Except Lily, she’s 9 months) We saw dance numbers and tons of great costumes.

Sheep

Cross Dressers

 

They love them some Confetti

 The main event was by far the parade. We thought we had missed it because it was about two hours into the festival and we hadn’t seen one so far. We were about to pack it up and go find some caffes when we saw a parade of grand proportions coming from the distance. This wasn’t like a local school parade where the cheerleaders and band prance down the street. This parade had floats that were two stories high, mechanically operated, and surrounded by choreographed and costumed dancers. The dancers were both male and female and ranged from 7 years old to 97. Most had grim faces, but the most animated, and my favorite, was an older gentleman who had real star potential.

He wasn’t even doing the same dance as his compadres but it was his dedication to the task that made him sparkle. He never wavered in his physical celebration.  Mr. Dance Man was the embodiment of this time honored tradition with his glee and purposeful, if not coordinated, jaunty moves.

Confetti attack, They seem like cute kids but they'll get you...Right in the Face

VENICE

If this wasn’t enough, Randy and I and several friends traversed to Sacile the following day where we took the train to Venice. There we saw this beautiful ancient city juxtaposed with the ridiculousness of adults carrying on in full up costumes. In route to Piazza San Marco, where the festivity is centered, we stopped for hot wine. We also paused for lunch at a place that I presumed had a pirate theme. Our group came to that conclusion, because the “litre” of wine was poured from the scowling mouths of black beard and some lesser known grey bearded fellow. 

Two words: Fried Risotto

Though the city was gorged with dedicated celebrators, Randy and I were able to take in some of the beautiful architecture. We traveled through the very narrow corridors and walked along the waterways. We will definitely return and get the scoop on the history and culture when it’s less bustling. Next year we plan to be costumed. Who knows maybe we’ll go as spidermen.

Venice, Right off the Train

If you look closely you'll see glass shards-Old Fashioned Barb Wire

Piazza San Marco

On our way home on the train, my friend Perta and I met the favor of a drunken gentleman. He seemed nice enough, but he began to take pictures of us a few inches from our faces. I felt quite empowered because I had just learned some helpful new Italian phrases, specific to this very occasion. I clearly, if not completely eloquently, stated that he should stop it, and if not, I would call the police. Now maybe these statements weren’t actually the best two, but they were all I had at all relevant in my repertoire. He ignored me and continued to violate personal space boundaries. Right when I was about to get really agitated, he managed to say in broken English that he was Tunisian and did not speak any Italian (And clearly very little English). Well, at least I tried. Even though my Italian landed on somewhat “deaf’ ears, our husbands were able to communicate via body language that he should scram. He left because apparently he DID speak angry husbands. Viva la Carnivale!

Speaking of Creepy...

Italian Lessons

Word of the post is: imparando; learning, as in “I’m imparando Italian and wish for you to give me a break.”

We’ve been in Aviano 3 weeks and I’m a tiny bit closer to assimilation. Not that we blend in, I think the locals can spot us from a mile away; at least until someone tries to speak to me in rapid fire Italian. The good thing is, a few second later, they are very well aware that I am in fact American. Randy and I may have found “the house.” The problem is, however, that the home is not available until Mid May. Randy and I (if I may, mostly me) are searching for a two month rental. Unfortunately for us, Italian law makes short term rentals basically unheard of. We’ll continue to persevere through the mess that is Italian real estate law, but until then we are residing at the Residence Posta.

I always considered myself relatively high maintenance, so it is with some pride that I live moderately satisfied in the Residence Posta. My positive attitude certainly is a product of the hotel’s position in Italy. While our “suite” does not have internet, a microwave, an oven, or a shower that stays hot for more than two minutes, the staff is great and the room is warm. 

A Night In-Soup's On

Also, it is steps away from down town Aviano. Randy and I are quickly making our way through the town’s restaurant circuit.

Austrian Food & Beer at Birreria Sacro Graal

Our Welcome to the 510th Pizza at El Mordisco

Oh hi Valentine's Day Pizza-Sicilian Style at Pogue Mahone's

Living amongst the people has given me the opportunity to practice my fledging Italian. Each time I have an interaction that results in any kind of two-way understanding, I take away an intense feeling of satisfaction and not a small amount of sweat.

Aviano

Sacile, Hopefully our Future Home

 In pursuit of the Italian language, Randy and I found a local language class in the Aviano library. We entered the library in search of the teacher Letizia. The women downstairs directed us (mostly with gestures) to a room upstairs. I opened the door to the room and found myself interrupting a large class with a small woman I presumed to be Letizia front and center. I about-faced myself out of there and ran down the stairs. Letizia followed me out and ushered Randy and I into the crowded classroom. I apologized for the distraction and tried to leave, but little Letizia forced Randy and I into chairs at the front of the classroom. Rather than hand me the form for classroom entrance, Letizia asked me for my information and filled it out herself. Ever the multi-tasker, Letizia interspersed her questions for me with questions in Italian to her multicultural students. I was still trying to minimize my distraction, so my answers were given in a weird semi whispery voice. Several red-faced minutes later Randy and I left the classroom.  

Nothing really to do with the story, but I think this picture's funny

Once we made it to the car, Randy gave me a very hard time about my awkward performance. The strangest thing about it was it barely bothered me at all. Randy was practically cringing during and after, while I left the place feeling happy that I signed up for Italian lessons. I just wanted to let you all to know that I think due to the amount of abuse taken, my awkwardness registers are severely broken.

Beginning to Settle

The Word of the Post is: Maledizione; meaning: darn it, as in "Maledizione Jamie, quit bugging me I'm trying to drive.
 

Randy and I have landed, unpacked, and begun the arduous process of moving in. The first few days were rough. We would be up until about 4:00 am and then have to peel ourselves out of bed at 1:00 pm. We are still not used to the 6 hour time distance (6 hrs later than Eastern Standard) but at least I don’t feel like a drunken zombie at noon anymore. 

 

On Friday, we met with an Italian realtor and have started house hunting. Right now we’re staying in an economy apartment on base, which is fine for a bit-especially since the heat is now working…

On Saturday, we met a number of people from Randy’s new squadron, the 510^th Buzzards. A few years ago Randy was a buzzsaw, which made me a buzzsaw babe by proxy. Now I’m a buzzette. I’ve come full circle. Our squadron hosted a dinner for us in downtown Aviano at a restaurant called Casablanca. I had pear ravioli and Randy had pumpkin pizza (both amazing). And vino, lots of vino. We were very lucky to have sponsors who planned this evening, took us to the mall (Randy has an Italian coat now), and drove us to and from this dinner. To continue my evening of firsts I used a thing called “a squatty potty” which I haven’t decided whether I abhor or adore. 

Not Casablanca's actual squatty potty. Their's was much cleaner. But this is it, basically.

 

Randy will probably begin working next week, whereas I’ll continue living the life of luxury while I wait for my license to come through. Randy and I are both stationed at Aviano Air Base. Aviano is a town located in the province of Pordenone. Pordenone is in the region of Friuli-Venezia Giulia. All of this is located in Northeast Italy. We can see the base of the Dolomite Mountains from our apartment’s window right now actually and it’s awesome.

 

We plan to stay within 20 miles from the base itself. We’re looking at a few regions and spent Sunday (today) driving around and getting ourselves acquainted with the area. Pordenone is visually so different from the places I have lived in. Many of the houses are massive antiques reflecting the history of each quaint village. The streets are narrow and winding. Towns only distanced by a mile or so can dramatically shift in style and pace. You can be entertained just by driving down one very long street as you pass village after village. Well I was entertained anyway; poor Randy was driving on these very narrow winding streets and trying to decipher equally long winding street signs. The entire time I interpreted all the Italian words I knew. This probably distracted him more than it aided him. Maledizione.

We started our day in Polcenigo. This house is pretty amazing and close to base, but it’s quite isolated and the town is molto small. 

We then traveled to Sacile, the biggest town in the area. There are many restaurants, shops, and people which are pluses for us. This is likely as far as we’ll live from base. I tried to creep on this house and take a picture. I bet the renters thought I was casing the joint.

 

Next, we drove by a town right outside of Sacile, Fontana Fredda.  It’s smaller than Sacile, but close enough that we can still be in the mix. We saw inside this house, it's actually huge.

Finally this house was in teeny tiny Sedrano. It was fully furnished and very close to base. The problem was, however, it’s also far from where most of our co-workers are located.

We have about a month to find a place to live and we have gotten “our boots on the ground.” I have personally used this time to practice my very basic Italian on the kind people of Italia and Randy. Poor Randy. Well, fino alla prossima volta (until next time).

Ps. Last night, after I wrote most of this I couldn't fall asleep again. Today I feel like a drunken zombie. Maledizione.

All in One Piece

Dumb, real dumb.

Let me begin with: everything turned out ok. So, Randy and I totally screwed up our sleep schedules. We arrived in Italy at 3:30 Italian time, 10:30 Eastern Standard time; after a night of minimal sleep aboard a plan with two dogs. We were greeted by several members of our new squadron. 

Our sponsors took us to our TLF (temporary housing) and were so generous to give us a bag of groceries. I fell asleep (against my will and better judgment) at about 5:30. At 10:00 pm I woke up and realized I was screwed-I was awake according to no kind of time zone. I accepted my fate and decided to take the dogs out. We’re on the first floor, but it’s actually one above ground level.  I couldn’t find the stairs so I took them on the elevator. 

The door to the elevator had closed when I realized I had Nina’s leash in my hand, that it was connected to her, and that she was NOT IN THE ELEVATOR. I quickly pressed the open door button, but it rudely did not comply and I tossed the handle in the air and watched it raise one floor above me. My inner monologue screamed “this is my worst nightmare” while I tried to find the staircase after I left the elevator. I didn’t and ran back on the elevator, went back up one floor, and found my little dog. She was unscathed and oblivious and still attached. WOW. I realized I better wake up and get my head on straight before I dismember my pets. The irony is that Nina is scared of wood floors and her harness, but her near death experience went by completely unnoticed. Geez-welcome to Italy.