On Being a Paparazza

I write this today from a bar called Caffé Gnocchetto in Narni. I'm meeting Fred in a half hour. There’s a wedding going on right down the street, but I’m not shooting it. I find them stressful to shoot because I feel intrusive. Okay, the wedding’s out because this place is filling up with dressed-up people AND several guys in costumes with a snare drum. Sting is on the radio. Oh, wow, Fred just texted to say the bride is arriving just now in a dune buggy. SHIT of all the weddings for me to NOT SHOOT.

Fast forward, we had our spritz after Fred finished sketching and ended up not missing a THING except the arrival of the guests. BOTH weddings got out (the best part), one after another and we got to see it all. And I shot my ass off. Intrusive freak that I am! One guest even stepped on my foot—that's how in the mix I get!  She was all apologetic but I told her it was only my shoe, really.

But I'll start with our first stop, a town called Terni. More like a city. I roamed a lot, Fred roamed and sketched. I worked from a caffé, after which we moved on to Narni, one of our favorite towns.

I might do a series on ashtrays like this. So common to see outside of bars or caffés. Fred thought a nice idea for a series would be church confessionals all around Umbria and Tuscany where we take day trips. I'm not feeling it though. I'm more about the ashtrays.







This was my Terni office.



This is a bridge in Narni, or the remains of one. Huge chunks of it are deeply embedded into the earth. Tons of artists have painted these ruins. Fred thought he would, too, but as is often the case, the overgrowth of bushes and trees surrounding it gave him no opportunity for a vantage point. Lots of traipsing around in the brush to no avail.

























Now for the two weddings. After our spritz...







...we saw the crowd begin to form almost a processional down the street from us, following a band of trumpeters and drummers and men and boys with huge flags. Turns out we were about to witness an Italian tradition called Flag Tossing.

http://www.tuscanyitaly.info/flagthrowingfestivalsintuscany/flagthrowingintuscany.htm

The men and boys are called sbandieratori. They throw the flags in the air, catch them, much like batons, and flip them around, over and under their legs, etc. It was most fun to see the boys do it.



















She is the mother of the boy in the photo below. We later saw him at another wedding in street clothes.














Love her! My own Isabella Rossellini!

Love this guy. I also saw him later at the next wedding!

I think the first bride arrived in this car, and left in the Ferrari below.





And this dune buggy was the next bride's vehicle of choice to her wedding which we came upon just after the other ended, a block away—another block another church.



















Twins!



Some townsfolk who were not among the invited.



The young sbandieratoro let his buddy carry his drum.






Could not get enough of these two!










Nice tie :)

One of the groomsmen.



This boy's getting fresh!













These guys are waiting for the bride and groom to come out so they can pop these huge "crackers" and shower them with tissue hearts.  There are two on the other side, too.






















These old friends were so happy to run into each other—and on his daughter's wedding day to boot!










Our neighbor back home in Viterbo!

Day Trippin

Fred works Mondays through Thursdays here in Viterbo, so we have three days in a row to ourselves. Friday we hit three small towns under an hour’s drive away in Lazio: Corchiano, Fabrica di Roma and Civita Castellana. Most likely we won’t be going back to them, but it was interesting enough. When we get to a town, we walk around together for a while, then separate for Fred to go make a sketch, and for me to find a coffee shop and work or blog or sort and edit photos or nag the boys via Facebook Messenger or pay their tuitions…. or all five. I’ve been freelancing as an art director for all but one year of the ten we’ve been coming here, and it would not be good business to turn down work for the month. It’s good though. I don’t like relaxing unless I’ve worked some to earn it.  

Corchiano is too small to be on this map, but the others are there.

Most of the cats live outdoors and are scrawny, weepy-eyed and flea-ridden, but once in a while there is a loved-by-humans one—flea collar and all!  I love their faces.

A rare door left open to this courtyard. Corchiano.

Thank you very much!

These are ruins we roamed looking for a good spot for Fred to draw. See Fred midway up, halfway from the middle toward the left.  

Some artist ex-pats in Civita Castellana. Friends of a friend. Small world.

There were two guys in this tractor, one teaching the other.

Fred doing what he does.

At the end of the last town of each day trip we meet up and have a drink in a piazza. Yesterday was a spritz and a beer at the Grande Café in Civita Castellana (big white building with the flag). Free peanuts and chips, too :) The funniest thing is when we get to these towns, we wind and wind and wind our way up to the centro (the historic center of town)—having learned never to grab a spot too early because the walk can be miles!—and every so often we realize, once we're there and the main piazza opens up to us, that we've been to this town before. Such was the case in Castellana. But it's nice to know where to have that drink. 

We got home around 8:30 and went out for dinner at 9:30. AMAAAAAAAZING dinner around the corner from our place.

Pappardelle, asparagus and pig cheek (guanciale). 

The Morning After

My post today was going to be about the flags that so proudly hung yesterday before the Euro Cup game, but today, Italy having lost, they are all but forgotten and hang in twisted wind-blown messes. But I started to see just as many perfectly-hanging flags that my point couldn't be made. Nonetheless, I will share the photos.

Today, Sunday, is eerie and quiet for out-of-towners in this little city—particularly this day after the defeat. This is the day I always find myself wishing I could take a picture of sound. I walked for two hours with my camera, trying very hard to LOOK and not just SEE. Or vice versa. I can never get that straight. But mostly I heard instead of listened. Or vice versa.  I talk about this every year, the Sunday sounds. A chair scraping as someone pushes back from the table. Glasses, plates and silverware being put out or put away. Soccer on TV. And voices. When you don't know what people are saying, it's just noise, so you hear it differently. I realized today it's just like the theory of looking at an image of a face upside-down if you want to try to draw it because your brain won't see it as eyes, nose and mouth, but rather shapes, lines, shadows. So the talking is part of this kind of fabric backdrop. Kids' voices, especially, are captivating to me. ALL Italian kids have raspy voices. I've looked into this but found no facts.... but it's true. And because of the cadence of the language, everything they say sounds like, "Why can't I?"  Try this to see what I mean:  Say "We're having spaghetti with meat sauce tonight for dinner, and after we'll go out for gelato," to the tune of "Why can't I?"

Cats are found under cars on days like today.

I love that someone took the time to put this potted plant in this hole.

Gates are always closed and locked in Italy, but this gate was left open and I got to see this huge courtyard! Funny parking!

There was a wedding today—apparently, weddings are most common on Saturday afternoons and Sunday mornings. We can’t have Catholic church weddings at home on Sunday mornings because of mass. So I don’t get that. I saw a bunch of adorned cars carrying dressed-up people, so I knew there had been a wedding. I went up to the church nearby and an old woman was sweeping the steps while a man shouted at her from the inside. I mean screamed AT her. There was a white Volkswagen bug convertible with bows on it and a man in a suit standing by. I sensed that he was waiting for the bride and groom who were most likely having their pictures taken, post ceremony. Sure enough, three photographers came up from an alley followed by the couple. I asked if I could take photos too, so they let me—they even asked the couple to pose for me :)

ReEntry.

The first few days back at our second home are always such a blur from jet lag that we remember them only through photos. Already yesterday is a fuzzy recollection. Here's our first night's walk to dinner. Back in the 'hood. Already I've seen Coat Man (the guy who roams all over town wearing as many coats as he can seem to collect, the top one being fur) three times. He seems happier this year and says, "Buon giorno, Signora." I smile and greet him back, but apparently another option is to just give him a dirty look. It's startling to come upon him because he looks like a bear.

     

We're here this year for the first two weeks sans sons. It feels strange. The apartment is much neater, the refrigerator much less full, and my head much less carefree. I saved a few bucks on car rental by not getting one till tomorrow, hence I had to do the grocery shopping on foot. These two bags were packed so heavy I had to stop several times on the way home. I know they don't look it, but they were. A man helped me for a block or so as I led him to a working ATM. (Not an easy task—to find a working ATM.)

Our first night here we had dinner at the Spaghetteria with the group. Delicious pasta, as always, followed by tiramisu and mirto, an aperitif— https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mirto(liqueur). Again, Fred and I were zombies for most of it.

On the way to dinner, we came across a palazzo with a big screen set up and a schedule of movies for the summer. Tonight's show was Spotlight. What I would have done to be there for the end of that. I imagine having only an elementary grasp of the language wouldn't matter.

The next day, Saturday, was of course wedding day in Italy. Here's a unique wedding car!

And the wedding party—more typical.

Last night, we were only semi-zombified and watched the Italy/Germany Euro Cup game in the piazza of our Duomo with about two thousand other Viterbese folks. An ambulance and five EMTs stood by, waiting for God knows what.

It was quite moving to stand with them while they sang their national anthem at the beginning of the game. We had not heard it before. The whole town was there, young and old, drinking beer, water, wine. Cheering till what I imagine has led to some serious vocal fry today.

Then we lost. I'm grateful it didn't hurt as much as when my son's teams lost championships. You have to pick and choose where you put your whole heart and soul. I kept mine safe this time around. We actually watched the penalty kicks in a bar near home because we had to use the bathroom, so the final half hour was a different experience. About eight of us in there, watching a TV that kept pixellating and threatening to freeze, but nobody could get up and look for someone to fix it, for fear of missing the action. When we lost, everyone stood up immediately and simultaneously, and walked out.