I'd be the first one to agree that I'm preoccupied with...me.

** This post was written in a small fit of indignation and is not meant to disparage an entire swath of people.  Just those that I refer to as "snobs."

I will attempt to do this as delicately, as diplomatically as I can.  However, there are no guarantees that I will succeed.  I might hazard a guess that I will fail miserably, in fact...so, tread with care.  I will not, however, apologize for my sentiments or opinions, based on my experiences.  If someone is offended or reads with hurt feelings or, better yet, huffiness and snorts....so be it.

There is a large concentration of people from a certain "kingdom" here in this little obscure hill town in Italy.  Most are part-time residents...or, as locals say, "tourists."  A very few are full-time residents.  

We speak the same native language with minor accent, word and meaning differences.  In other words, we speak the same language, but different dialects.

There is something I have come to despise....a certain attitude that couches itself in small, nearly innocuous phrases and social slights.  

It started with the door.  MY door.  The door to our home.  It had been a kind of a puke yellow.  A really awful nothing "color" that made me slightly sick every time I saw it.  I'm sure there is a wood door underneath...but how many layers of paint?  What kind of shape is the wood in?  It wasn't worth it to find out.  I had the door painted.  And it pleased me.

So, a certain male person with whom we had contact one day said to  me...."Oh..what do you think of that BLUE door???  *he left out, but I heard "that DREADFUL blue door" in his delivery.

Well, jackass, if you hadn't noticed, but you should have, that BLUE DOOR just happened....recently, because I asked for it, I wanted it and it makes me happy every time I see it.  In my opinion, and this is what my reply was..."It beats the hell out of baby shit yellow."

It isn't just "blue"...it is aqua.  It reminds me of the sea, and we are just west of the Adriatic.  It is a bright and snappy color and I love it.  Yet, he tried so very hard to insult me.

There were others....one who, although I thought he was quite nice, decided it was his mission to educate me on the history of this town and was bound and determined to lend me a book to read for my enlightenment.  I guess he forgot.  He never mentioned it again.

A man who is also part-time, with his wife....to whom we have never been "formally" introduced, but we have seen and spoken to, nevertheless, several times.  She never remembers.  "Do I know you?"  "Have we met?"  Really?  No, lady, only about 4 or 5 times. Are their memories so short?  This isn't a very big town.  Or are we just that disposable?  Ah, who cares?  Americans......meh.  Such plebeians. 

We were at an "event"...a night of music and wine....and there they were, this couple.  We saw them.  They saw us.  Nothing.  Not even a nod of acknowledgement. "Have we met?"  We had freaking dinner with the husband!!!  What..ev..ah!

And the latest.  Yet another......so, I see a pattern developing, an unpleasant one.  I do not like to make generalizations about people, but....I'm being helped along here.  So, the latest.  Guy is boisterous and has a big mouth...well, yeah, ok..boisterous.  Big smarmy smile...HAHAHAHA.....always laughing.....life is just a bowl of treacle.....at any rate.....in our "conversation"....he said he looked at a place that had "a view of the parking lot!  BWAHAHAHAHAH!!!!"...yeah...that's us.  Yes, there is a parking lot below.  Not visible in the summer, only when the leaves fall in the winter.  And so what....it is a panoramic view..not JUST of a parking lot...in one small lower quadrant...but...this....

The cityscape to the west...gorgeous no matter what the season or time of day,

And this.....

 Olive groves, farms and vineyards...and the Adriatic...some "parking lot."

It seems to me that certain people go out of their way to slight and insult because they feel so very superior.  I am not sure how or why they are "superior" but they certainly seem to think they are.  I must hone my skills and learn how to dish back what is slopped onto my plate.  Give me a bit of time...I will figure it out.

When you wish upon a star......

 I left church...the Catholic one...and every one...at age thirteen.  I had no more use for the empty words, platititudes.....and the phony sanctity of the people who marched dutifully in each and every Sunday.

I  sought answers....a read a lot, I took courses in Mythology (which included Christianity  by the way)  and I came up with nothing.

I am very based in reality.  So much so that there were times in my life that I actually wished I could "go mad"....because it seemed to work out so well for those around me who did....a sister of mine, who wound up in the care of others for the rest of her life...and my ex husband, who was coddled in the arms of his well-to-do parents thereafter.  Gosh.  Wouldn't that  be nice?   Just say..."Fuck it!"...and have someone else pick up all the pieces.   I could never manage to go there. 

Nevertheless, I have had moments of what I refer to, to myself, as "moments of knowing."  I don't pretend to know anything.  Not a damned thing.  But, I had a dream in high school the night before an oral exam in Spanish class.  And I was called on to recite the alphabet, in Spanish.  In my dream, I did just that and it was perfect.  The next day, I had that test and I was asked to recite the alphabet.  And it was perfect.

When, as a young adult, floundering around with no direction, I walked onto the campus of C.W.Post College on Long Island, I felt it.  That feeling......that feeling of....this is right.  Somehow, this is right.  This is where I belong.  And I did, at least, for a few years. 

Before the call from the obstetrician about my pregnancy, I knew my baby was a girl.  The fact just landed on me one day....it landed and it was, indeed, correct.

My ex and I were looking for a decent place to live in California.  I saw an ad and made an appointment.  That night I dreamt about a house on a hill...with a deck...and a view of San Francisco Bay.  We drove up the house the next day...and there it was, just as I had dreamt it.....and we lived there for three years.  Nothing was perfect.....mind you....but it was where we were and it was exactly as I pictured it in my dream.

When I came here to Italy to find a home, I looked at seven places.  When I walked into this one.....I was standing in the doorway between the kitchen and what is now the dining room.  I felt something....like....how can I describe it?  A certainty.  A light, gossamer curtain coming down....here you are....this is it....this is where you belong.  And I said, out loud...to my realtor..."I love this place."  It is where I am now. 

I am the least "spiritual" person I can think of.....and I don't even know how to explain this without sounding absolutely nuts.  I have no explanation for it...makes no sense to me whatsoever...but I will SWEAR to what I saw...and I saw...clearly...and for quite a while..like 10 minutes worth of "a while"...both the faces of Joan Rivers and Robin Williams in the sky...in clouds....clear...clear... unmistakable....Why?  Who the hell am I?  Why?  Clear as the sun shining on those clouds....the two of them side by side, smiling....Am I crazy???  I SEE this!!!

After my beloved Steven died (German Shepherd/Great Dane mix)...my beautiful boy....I was heartbroken and despondent.  About a month later, on the bus coming out of the Port Authority....there was a HUGE sign on the side of building...a picture of a gorgeous Shepherd.....It stayed there for a couple of weeks.....sometimes I thought about asking someone else if they could see it too......but I never had the nerve.  I could not see a product....a brand name...nothing.  Just a gorgeous dog.  Is it only me?  I was literally too afraid to ask anyone else if they saw it too.

Tonight, out on the balcony, I saw a dog face in the clouds.  Floppy ears....snoot...slightly open mouth, slightly protruding tongue.  It could have been Daffy...or Steve...or Harry.  My twisted mind and hurting heart wanted to believe it was all three.....telling me it was ok.  

If anyone asks, this is a work of fiction and I deny everything.....I do not see signs, read horoscopes, believe in conspiracy theories, read tea leaves or consult psychics.  I am not crazy.  And I know many people have much greater problems than my own. I have also never told anyone, ever, about any of this.

Dear Universe, I hope my sweet babies are alright. 

After all the loves of my life....after all the loves of my life....

 I've had cats and dogs my entire life.  Always.  A house is not a home without someone of a different species, as far as I am concerned.

My first true love was Huey, my orange and white, gigantic baby.....sweet Huey, benevolent overlord of his tiny kingdom and my life.  Found in the basement of a building....his first cancerous growth was discovered at age 8.  He lived on Long Island, in the midst of New York City....and in Northern California.  He lived through pneumonia.  I cooked for him for the last year of his life and he died just before Christmas.  He made a point of telling me it was "time."

Did I love the others less?  How do you gauge that?  Or, did I love some just a bit more?  Should I feel guilty?  I always did my best for everyone...I think...I hope.

Garp was a beautiful Golden, from a pet store in Manhattan...a designer dog who became my bug hunter extraordinaire....and jogging buddy.  He, too, moved to California...and then to Michigan...and for a large dog....he stayed with us a long time...15 years.  

Daffy was a total sweetheart...a gorgeous Springer Spaniel who garnered compliments wherever she went. Always compliant, always happy....always the supreme lady. 

And then there was Steve.  A pound puppy.  They said he was 8 weeks, but his eyes were still blue...so, no way.  Stevie....my gorgeous, wonderful Steve.  My protector, my friend, my companion.  I could see him looking out the window in Astoria, Queens...waiting for me to appear as I was walking home from the train.  Steve....best buddy....huggy bear...warning me of danger...but a total mush.  I can't vouch for how he would react to someone posing a threat...he was protective. So handsome and so smart.....he told a joke.  I had a cat named Rathbone, "Bone" for short.  Steve wanted to play.  I said "Go get your bone!"  (He had an "air bone"...like a tennis ball in a bone shape)  He wiggled his butt, went to the couch where "Bone" was sleeping and tried to lift him up with his nose!!  I said, "No, not THAT bone!"  and he wiggled more, and snorted.....he told a joke and he knew it!!!

It took me years to get over his loss.  I loved my Steven so very much.  He was an extraordinary individual.  But I knew, after time, that there was, perhaps, one more.

So, one day, after I retired from 44 years of working...we went looking for another pup.  In a Petco.  He wasn't there, but we were encouraged to come back.  When we returned an hour later...there he was.  A black and white dog....scared, a bit skittish...he kept looking out the window doors.......as if he wanted to be anywhere else, but he did come over and sniff me, and he let me pet him and hold his face for a moment.  

Most of his story is in the two little children's books I wrote....I was going to do a third and complete a trilolgy....his amazing adventures here in Italy.....but time and events were not on my side.  I am now thinking Harry was a bit older than originally claimed....he developed white eyebrows and a bit of a beard......nevertheless, this boy inspired me to dare to do something I never would have done....and it brought joy to me....and he seemed to enjoy his days at "events" and the attention he got.  And he certainly enjoyed Italy...his friends, his streets...his good smelly places.  

I wish I could see him leap down the halllway again in total joy....because it was time for a walk!

I keep thinking I hear him.  I keep thinking it's time to feed him, change his water, get him outside.  I keep thinking I will turn around and see him. But he isn't there. I know this pain.....I have been here before.

This is grief....hello, darkness..my old friend.   

If I didn't have seven rescued streets cats I might be in total despair.  These little creatures came along at just the right time. And again, as always...who exactly is saving whom? 

Harry Spotter....the sweetest soul ever.....never growled..ever...for any reason...sweet, docile, usually happy and full of joy...cat whisperer....fellow dog whisperer.....I hope Steve and Daffy are there for you....you would like each other bunches.   Huey, too.

And Basil...and Bone....and Basta......

How do you measure love?

Two different worlds, we live in two different worlds

Our lives in New York/New Jersey were hectic, exhausting and stressful.  My commute started between 5 and 5:30 in the morning with a ten minute walk to the bus stop, the express bus to the Port Authority, two subway trains and ended with another walk, about 20 to  30 minutes, to the entrance of the hospital. 

My last years of working prior to retirement were the most difficult of all.  I was struggling to control rheumatoid arthritis and loathing the daily commute that ate up four hours or more of every day.  I rarely got to see daylight in my own home.

Saturdays were nearly as bad since our county had "blue laws" that did not allow many businesses to be open on Sunday (an effort to control excess traffic).  Nice idea, but that meant that shopping for necessities had to be done on Saturday.  Planning for the week/month was essential.

Many times over my working life, I traded time for money.  I wanted the time more....time to keep my place as nice as I would like.  Time to spend with my beloved companions.  Time to cook or listen to music.  There was only one glaring exception...while I worked weekend nights at the hospital.  Every so often a holiday...Christmas, New Years, Fourth of July...would fall on a weekend.  And the hospital paid double time and half.  I loved it.  One, it paid well and it was  actually fun.  Two, the doctors and nurses often got into the "spirit" and wore antlers or Santa hats, New Year glasses or red, white and blue regalia.  It boosted everyone's mood.  And, the added bonus was that it got me off the hook for once.  I didn't have to make dinner for 6, 7 or 8 and THEN go to work the next day.  For me, that was a holiday.  

Something I learned sometime while living in Ann Arbor was that the adage, "work hard and get ahead" is a fallacy and cannot be applied universally.  Sometimes you work hard and don't get anywhere.  Sometimes you work harder and just manage to cling to the status quo. Sometimes you work hard and get royally screwed. Retirement has been a luxury for which I am deeply grateful. 

Even afterwards, though, I worked for a while online writing articles for a medical website.  And, there was so much to do.  We sold the house and moved to central New Jersey, which entailed emptying scads and scads of stuff piled high in the basement, more stuff in what closet space there was, and yet more stuff in the attic.  And everyone knows what a joy it is to move. Then came painting and improvements. Then planning for the BIG move overseas.  And another spinal surgery.

Finalmente!  I was hoping life would calm down here in Italy.  The European approach would be good for us.  Take time to smell the roses, as it were.  Relax.  Breathe. 

Naturally, it took months to settle in especially with a whole new language to learn and a notorious bureaucracy to deal with.  Instead of relaxing and breathing, my husband seemed more anxious than ever, always worried, always hyper, perseverating about the next perceived crisis. 

I, too, had trouble sleeping, calming down.  Sometimes I would pace up and down the hallway to the back door to the balcony and look out at the night until I felt ready to possibly sleep. 

It has been over two and a half years now.  Ironically, the pandemic assisted me, at least, in letting go of the next worry.  Life became planning two weeks worth of groceries and meals and then collecting cats, which at first was not relaxing in any way, shape or form.  

Whenever faced with any sort of problem or dilemma, my approach is to find a way to deal with it.  My husband....not so much.  He worries, he frets, he envisions worst case scenarios.  Like anywhere else, glitches happen here in "idyllic" Italy, too.  

We had our permits to stay delayed due to Covid.  It all worked out ("We could be deported!").  Taxes had to be done ("This is a nightmare!").  We found an excellent guy, the taxes are done.  We can't access the website for vaccines ("We may NEVER get there!")...it got straightened out and it was done.  

He just cannot seem to accept the fact that here, things move a little slower.  It is one of the things I adore about it.  Expecting someone to show up at 8am?  Give them until 10am at least.  A restaurant has hours posted that say they open at 6:30pm?  Keep in mind, that means you can walk in the door.  Expect to have a drink and wait a while until they are set up and ready.  They are not slaves to the clock here as in the U.S. That delivery you thought was coming today?  Ah, domani.  There's always domani.  

It is hard to believe that retirement began eight years ago.  Only now, eight years out and nearly three years into Italy, and my mind is more at ease.  Carefree?  Of course not...show me where that is, I want to sign up! But I am learning to just allow the things that happen ...to happen.  Without a slight panic attack, without hysterics or curses or a racing pulse.  

I ditched my watch.  Makeup, if any, is minimal.  I have a drawer full of accessories/jewelry I never wear anymore. I'm reading a lot more again.  Clothes are for comfort, I don't care what other people think, they are usually wrong anyway.  The fridge always has at least two bottles of prosecco chilling.  Kittens make me happy.  Staring at blue sky does wonders for the psyche.  

If you walk outside our front door now, the sweet smell of jasmine fills the air.  Sometimes (it has been a strange and chilly spring) I have my morning tea on the balcony.....sometimes a glass of wine in the evening.  The rondole circle above (swallows).  Finches and crows and jays have their conversations....someone is a songster...a tiny bird...maybe a type of finch.  We have our own jasmina growing up a trellis out there. 

A different world.  Much like the one I recall from distant childhood....where things happen and things are dealt with, where everything isn't decided by a clock, where people have their quirks and that's okay....and the weather isn't perfect but there is music....and sky.....and kittens.  "Where everybody knows your name." The scenery, however, is spectacular

What's new? How is the world treating you?

 For a full 24 hours after injection....perhaps a bit more....we had sore arms.  I could not tell if my aches and pains were any worse as I have aches and pains all the time due to rheumatoid arthritis.  My husband said HE had aches and pains. 

I had extreme fatigue accompanied by occasional waves of mild nausea. Before my usual bedtime I felt too tired to stay up so I called it an early night.  I washed my face.  As I was brushing my teeth, I literally thought about putting my head down on the sink.  Intuitively (hahaha) I knew this would not be a good thing to do. I stumbled into bed.

My husband got up multiple times....he said the shot seemed like a diuretic.

For me, I slept like the proverbial log and didn't want to get up, but I felt...ok.  Got up, took care of cats....dressed.....all that and fell asleep at 1 o'clock in the afternoon for about an hour and a half. 

Dinner was simple spaghetti, no garlic and no garlic bread....a salad.  Still had mild nausea.

By 8 or 9 pm I could feel it lifting, I was starting to feel better.  

We will be better prepared for the second round.  I will make sure we have sliced turkey, tortillas, cheese...and also some (rare in these parts) canned soup....for the aftermath.  No cooking.  Take it easy, lay low, sleep if you must.  

We will never know what the "problem" was.

I want a new drug, one that does what it should...

 And so we embarked on yet another adventure in "what can go wrong?"  

Italy has experienced shortages of vaccine for Covid19.  Our little hill town was plodding along, getting the most critical workers vaccinated and then the older population, which is quite large.  

Finally, the opportunity to make an appointment opened up for those born before 1972.  That's us.  People began asking if we had made an appointment yet.  One acquaintance said he already had an appointment, but the only vaccine offered was Astra Zeneca, which he declined.  He had to sign a waiver and now has to wait for the availability of other types.  He is not the only person who refuses the AZ.  If you read up on the vaccines, you will know why.  Another person told us his appointment is in June.  Alright, since I check a town "page" on Facebook nearly every day, I saw the announcement and it included the web address where one could sign up.  Easy peasy.......not.

I gathered up my health care card and my permesso (just in case)...and ventured forth on the internet. All I had to do was enter the 20 digit number on my health card and my codice, which is the Italian equivalent of a Social Security number. It took all of a minute and this is what greeted me:

It says that either the numbers I entered were incorrect OR I am in a group that is not yet eligible for vaccination.  Of course, I checked the numbers and tried again.  Same thing.  And again.  I asked my husband to go to the site and try his information.  Same thing.  It was rejecting us without giving a specific reason why.

Our neighbor suggested we try going to the post office, since there are people making appointments there.  Silly me, I thought that the clerks were the ones doing the appointments.  Instead, we were told to go to the ATM.  I was clinging to the hope that since it was going to scan my card that the outcome would be different than when I entered the numbers manually BUT no. Same result once again.  

Let me also add that coming to the conclusion that we should even have the vaccination was a difficult one.  We both have comorbidities...health conditions that put us at risk of side effects. Frankly, I too, will refuse the Astra Zeneca and I am still terrified about getting these drugs injected into my body. 

I checked the central website for national health care and it states clearly that ANYONE living in Italy is eligible to receive the vaccine.  You do not have to be Italian, you don't even need to be signed up for national health care OR have a permesso.  So, the question remains, what is the problem???

Coming back from the post office, another acquaintance suggested that we go to the pharmacy.  We would go up to the pharmacy the following day.  

The following day, after thinking about it, I suggested that the pharmacy would only use their computer and get the same result.  This morphed into a totally unnecessary argument which crescendoed with my husband saying "I'll just do it myself" and marching out the door.  Toodles!!!

Over an hour later, I was pretty sure the pharmacy didn't work out, as predicted.  So he wound up in a friend's office (this person has helped us out multiple times with bureaucratic nonsense) and said friend made copies of all of our information and got right on his phone.  He was, I am told, on the phone for over half and hour.  We still don't know what the cause of the difficulty is.  Now I am waiting for a text to my phone that is supposed to contain a code.  When (if?) I get this text, I am to call our friend with the code and he will take it from there.  Aspettiamo.  Tick.....tock.  

                                                                  ******************

No code ever came via text.  Late in the evening I got an email from our friend that included a copy of an email he sent to someone and the upshot of it all was that we would probably be vaccinated on Wednesday.  Wednesday???  The day after tomorrow???  Si.

                                                                 ******************

The phone rang this morning, again it was our friend.  He confirmed that tomorrow he will take us to where the vaccines are being given. (It is outside of the town proper and not within walking distance, something ELSE to throw a monkey wrench into the whole endeavor). 

What exactly was the problem?  Chissa?  Who knows??  Another mystery wrapped in an enigma.  I am somewhat terrified, by the way.

                                                                 ********************

It started as a nice, sunny day.  We opened the windows for the cats to enjoy the views and bird shenanigans.  Naturally, by the time we were ready to meet our friend and go for the vaccine, it started to rain.  The wind was rather strong, too, making it feel quite chilly.

Let me add that our young friend went WAY WAY out of his way to help us today.  It wasn't just a matter of a quick ride (in what became a deluge) but in the outer tent where people were waiting to have papers reviewed, there were about 14 or more people already waiting and large puddles were forming on the ground.  

Papers?  What papers?  The papers we didn't have because the computer kept rejecting us for mysterious, unknown reasons.  Normally, this would not be a problem....the fact that they were in Italian was also not a problem.  The problem was we were standing under a tent with the wind whipping through and rain pounding all around while standing in a line with nowhere to sit or lean.  We could not have done ANY of this by ourselves.  

The papers were filled out (name, address, codice, blah blah...info they have in I don't know how many redundancies) and then a list of health questions.  They had to be signed in three places.  They were sloppy, but they were done. 

We were given numbers and ushered inside a fully covered, elaborate tent.  Our temperatures were taken.  We sat and waited, rain noisily hitting the roof and sides and one guy calling out numbers who was impossible to hear over the din.  Truth be told, he wasn't trying too hard to be heard.  Would have been a better idea to give him numbers to hold up so people could SEE who was next, just my two cents.

The papers were reviewed once again, the same information (which was on the papers) asked for again and entered into a computer.   This is when they asked if we had a choice of vaccine.  Hallelujah, because I know there were people who were not given a choice.  We chose Pfizer.  Then they told us when to return for the second dose.

Then we were ushered to another bank of tables where the vaccine was actually being administered.  Our friend was telling a nurse that we were Americans and I didn't speak Italian.  I love our buddy, but with that I had to speak up and say that, indeed, io parlo Italiano.  With that, the nurse/lady asked which arm I preferred and if I was scared (maybe it showed)...I said "Si."  "Perche?"  I told her I worked in hospitals for forty years....she laughed and said she understood.  She prepped my arm and said after the injection to wait in the chairs in the bank ahead of us.  Then she told our friend "Lei ha capito," that I understood.  Another woman gave the shot, I barely felt it and that was that.  I went over to wait.

My husband was done and we all waited for 15 minutes.  When we emerged from the tent, the rain had let up a bit.

Two hours in all and back home now...arm is a tiny bit sore and sono stanca ...I am tired.  Someone needs a major thank you gift, I haven't got the words in any language to tell him how grateful we are for guiding us through that maze.  It's done, finalmente.

I'm living right next door to an angel

 Lest you think all is troublesome here, quite the contrary.  

Our neighbors across the street are absolute gems.

I always admired their house and the lovely flowers they have growing up the front and on the second floor balcony.  I wondered if they would be nice and the answer to my question was a resounding "yes!"  They are absolutely wonderful people.

We started talking because of the street cats outside.  Having a cat of their own, they, along with us, feed the ferals.  (You can visit my other blog, "gattitudeblog.blogspot.com"

Then, after nearly a year of feeding the kitties outside, and inside our covered cortile, we got "nei guai"...in trouble.  Another neighbor down the block, who is not well liked by anyone, had the nerve to call the police about the cats being fed.  (Not only our neighbors across the street but also another woman further down the block feeds them, too)  Yes indeed, nothing like having the police at your door, especially when YOU are the foreigner.  He could have just spoken to us.  The police?

It was right around Christmas too, and we were in the planning stages of getting as many cats neutered/spayed as possible.  Our neighbors came over bearing gifts for Natale and while we chatted they told us not to worry, nobody likes the guy who called the cops anyway.  I said I thought we were singled out because we are stranieri (foreigners) and that is when my friend said "Sono una straniera"...I am a foreigner.  I had no idea, her Italian is perfect.  Turns out she is from Bulgaria but married an Italian man and she has been here for over 16 years. 

We told them our plan for the cats, and she offered to be our driver.  It is a LONG walk to the veterinarian, so this offer was very welcome.  And when she did drive us she told the vet about our run in with the law.  HE then spoke to the mayor....(!!) and when we picked up the cat, he told us that the mayor said to go ahead and feed the cats in the courtyard.  No one could tell us what to do on our own property.  

Throughout the winter and bad weather, she was there to take us to the vet.  

One time, when picking up one of the cats, she asked if she could take a small detour.  Certo!  She drove to where she and her husband lived before, in a more modern type apartment building, but down the road from an ancient church.  The church had been abandoned years ago and groups of teens gather there now, drinking and smoking and leaving garbage.  That won't last much longer, though, because the town is getting ready to rehab the site and make it into a museum/tourist attraction. 

 The road itself was lovely, lined with large trees and overlooking a hill with a view of the mountains to the west.  I misunderstood what she had said, I thought she needed to briefly visit someone she knew.  What she did want to do was pick some herbs!!!  It is common here to see people foraging - I hardly can identify anything...I am from Brooklyn, after all, but there are edible herbs (bay leaf, parsley, rosemary, chives) and vegetables such as onions and asparagus.  There are probably lots more, but I don't have a clue. 

After a year of Covid restrictions, she said she wanted to take me to see a part of this town I had never seen before.  We had the good luck to get a string of lovely days in March with warm temperatures and sunshine.  She took me to the lake!  It is a manmade lake that has been there more than a dozen years or so and it is a bird sanctuary.  

The roads leading to the lake got narrower and in some parts were dirt.  We passed a place where she told me they buy their olive oil in bulk.  You can actually watch them making the oil.  These hills are covered in olive groves all around us so I am not sure what makes this particular place their special favorite.

We got to a spot to park and walked on a bridge over the lake.  Then we moved to another part, up a dirt road and parked again.  We walked up to where there is a small "falls" and my friend pointed out to me the almond trees, the wild asparagus, bay leaves.  The mimosas were blooming bright yellow and there were some violets, too.  

Once back in town (which is just a 5 minute drive although it seems far away) she ran into her house, told me "aspetta!" wait!  and came back shortly with a couple of small frozen packages of wild asparagus she had already prepared.  I  made a pasta casserole using it.  Having had fiddleheads in the past, I would say they tasted like fiddleheads...very earthy and delicious!

She and her husband went to the lake again recently and brought us back some more asparagus...which I washed and trimmed and cut just as she had done, and stored it in my freezer.  I can't wait to use it!  This city girl has never eaten something that just....haha...grows...it sounds so funny to say.

It was a wonderful adventure for me.  I cherish their friendship and can't believe how lucky we were to have such sweet, thoughtful people right across the street!