Bats or just batty…

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Common pipistrelle, Pipistrellus pipistrellus, common house bat, a much better photo I took from Wikipedia.  I guess this is nothing compared to the bats awaiting us in Africa. 

One night years ago, after falling asleep with the TV on, I awoke to see a bat fly in front of the TV screen.

Terrified of bats I bolted out of bed waving my arms and screaming, scaring Tom to death. After turning on the bright overhead light and looking around the bedroom, not finding a bat, he assured me it was a bad dream and to go back to sleep. I swore I’d seen a bat.

Two days later I was cleaning one of the upstairs guest rooms to find a dead bat on the inside of the screen apparently dying after trying to escape. I jumped for joy! I could hardly wait to show it to Tom when he’d return from work.

It was less of an “I told you so” than a “see, I’m not crazy” when I rushed him when he walked in the door that evening.  Of course, I had picked up the dead bat (much to my surprise) wearing a thick rubber glove saving it in a paper towel to show him. He shrugged his shoulders, “Oh, it’s a bat.” 

Little gratification was found there. 

Why is it when women are proven “right” that we don’t jump for joy when we prove it?  And yet men will gloat for days?  Ha!

After that experience I became less afraid of bats, merely preferring they don’t fly around me, touch me, or live with me.  No more screaming while running around in circles when spotting a bat flying nearby in the night sky.

A few days ago, walking down the mile-long hallway in this house, I noticed this clump on the floor in a corner of one of the nooks and crannies, meaning to toss it many times as I walked past, never having a handy paper towel. 

My blurry photo, taken zooming in with a shaky hand when  I realized it was a bat.

In my old life, I would have picked it up as soon as I saw it.  Now, living in a more relaxed environment in someone else’s house, I thought, I’ll get to it, whatever it is.  It wasn’t moving so I wasn’t particularly concerned.  Besides, it was neatly tucked away into a corner.  I thought it was a small clump of leaves.

Finally, yesterday afternoon, realizing that Santina was coming to clean today and not wanting to leave it for her, I grabbed a couple of paper towels to remove the pesky intrusion, leaning in closer to get a better look. It was a dead bat. I didn’t scream. Instead, I took a photo.

I must admit that a bit of the old fear gripped me keeping me from holding my hand steady as I zoomed in to take the photo. Thus, the blurry photo.

Calling Tom to come to see, he made a mad dash to the hallway from the veranda. Looking closely as I had done, he said, “Oh, I thought it was potpourri!”

Need I say, I laughed so hard I cried, repeating over and again, “Potpourri?” I’m still laughing as I write this.

He ran to the kitchen to get the broom and dustpan, scooping it up, taking it down to the garbage to dispose of it. Surely, it flew in over the past several nights when we had the windows-without-screens opened when the temperature was in the high 90’s. Gee, I knew there was a reason I didn’t want those windows wide open at night.

Good thing we don’t have a TV in the bedroom.

Does the fire at the Nairobi airport have an effect upcoming flight to Kenya?

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As reported in the today’s news, a fire at Kenya’s main airport in Nairobi has shut down the airport. 

Watching the news on TV on the few English speaking channels we have access to in Boveglio, Italy, inspired us to consider how this may have an effect on our upcoming flight to Kenya on September 2, 2013, only 26 days from today.

Departing from the Marco Polo Airport in Venice, Italy, we’ll have two layovers on our flight, luckily none of which are at the Nairobi International Airport. 

Here’s our flight itinerary:

9/2/13 – Departure   2 stops
Total travel time: 15 h 25 m
custom air icon
Venice
Istanbul
2 h 25 m 
VCE  10:45am
IST  2:10pm
Terminal I
 
Turkish
Airlines 1868
Economy/Coach (S)
| Confirm seats with the airline *
Layover: 4 h 5 m
custom air icon
Istanbul
Kilimanjaro
6 h 55 m   3,110miles
IST  6:15pm
JRO  1:10am
+1 day  
 
Turkish
Airlines 673
Economy/Coach (S)
| Confirm seats with the airline *
Layover: 1 h 0 m
custom air icon
Kilimanjaro
Mombasa
1 h 0 m   180miles
JRO  2:10am
MBA  3:10am
, Arrives on 9/3/13
 
Turkish
Airlines 673
Economy/Coach (S)
| Confirm seats with the airline *

In a prior post I had mistakenly quoted our flight as being 17 hours long (please excuse the error) when in fact it is only 15 hours and 25 minutes. That’s good news! 

Reviewing our itinerary once more, it makes me cringe at the long wait, we’ll have on the second layover. How in the world will we stay awake, waiting at the Kilimanjaro airport for almost 7 hours?  Yikes.  If we were on the plane, we could sleep.  I guess we’ll find out soon enough.

The only issue for us could be any delay when we arrive in Mombasa, Kenya at 3:10 am if flights are still being diverted to other airports. As it is we’ve read online that any arrivals in Kenya may result in long waits going though customs and acquiring visas for our extended stay. 

Bottom line, if we arrive in Mombasa safely, subsequently to arrive at our rental house, however many hours later, we’ll be grateful.

With all the embassies and consulates closing in various parts of the world, there is no doubt cause for concern for travelers. Kenya was not included in these closings, which provided us with a little peace of mind.

The world is a scary place.  We don’t take any of our travels lightly. With neither of us fans of flying, preferring cruise ships as a means of transportation, the less commotion, the better.

Hopefully, less than a month from now we’ll be comfortably situated in our vacation rental in Diani Beach, the ocean a mere 300 steps from our door, feeling content, and looking forward to arranging a safari to see the Great Migration, our major motivator for visiting Kenya.

Pescia, referred to as “Little Italy,” with video and photos…Hot today in Pescia…Over 100 degrees F (C38 degrees)…

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The young helpful butcher as he was preparing our meat who easily understood when I asked him to cut the bacon thicker, stating “spesso, denso and grosso” all of which got the message across. Most deli meats and cheeses are cut paper thin in Italy with customers ordering small portions as compared to our 800 gram orders.

Stumbling across this well done video of Pescia. Italy prompted me to forgo my feeble efforts at video taking and “borrow” this video I discovered on YouTube this morning.

These peaches and nectarines were huge and all organic.

Feel free to fast forward through the gentleman who’s talking in Italian, unless of course, you’ll be able to understand him. I’ve noticed in our blog stats that we’ve had hundreds of visitors from Italy reading our posts, many of whom will listen all the way through. These scenes are better than any shots we could have taken.

Bagged vegetables are more expensive. The bulk, pick your own produce, require that the customer wear plastic disposable gloves, which are provided, prior to touching anything.  Also, once placing the items in a plastic bag, I had to weigh each bag, selecting a matching photo of the item on a display screen which prints a price tag to be attached to the plastic bag. I’d planned to take a photo of the screen, but the work area was lined up with shoppers waiting for their turns. The prices are excellent, for example, the bag of 8 large organic tomatoes I purchased today was Euro $.78 which is US $1.03.

This morning we took off for Pescia at 11:00 am, down the hairpin turns bouncing along in our “sold” Fiat rental car that they’ve (Budget Rental) yet to swap out with us for another car. At this point, we doubt that they’ll bother to swap it as the time nears for our returning it to Venice on September 1, 2013.

More pre-wrapped produce that although more costly than the “pick your own” still was very affordable, as you can see from the prices here.

A quiet weekend behind us, we were enthused to venture out enjoying the views along the way and to get groceries, change, and gas for the car. After today’s shopping trip, we’ll only need to grocery shop on one more occasion before leaving Boveglio. How the time has flown!

Grocery shopping in Pescia has been a pleasure for me with the freshest of ingredients, most of which are organic. There is less than a single aisle devoted to snacks, candy, cookies, and chips, basically junk foods. 

A bakery, deli, and specialty meat and seafood area offer the finest products.  It’s not easy to resist their made-on-site pastries and bread.  I breeze by the bakery trying not to look. 

Tom, on the other hand, could try some of the pastries without consequence (other than weight gain) but he too walks by without a glance. The only item I’ve seen him eyeball is the glazed doughnuts. 

Not a typical Italian item, they are pricey at US $12.00 a dozen.  “Mr. Frugal,” commented several weeks ago that there was “no way,” he’d spend $12.00 for a container of glazed doughnuts.  Good.  His pants will fit when we leave here. 

The plan, as always, is to use any food products we have on hand with the intent of not being wasteful.  Basic ingredients such as spices, oils, baking soda, etc will gladly be left behind for the next visitors, as has been the case when we’ve left with other properties we’d rented.

The cheeses we are expensive, but well worth their prices. The rounds in the center on the right are a soft cheese, along the line of a Brie that I’ve enjoyed every night for dessert.

It may seem odd to begin the process of ‘winding down” at this early date with almost four weeks to go.  But, as we’ve indicated on numerous posts, we’re the king and queen of “planning ahead” leaving us with little stress at the end of our stay, other than loading our bags and ourselves into the car on the day we depart.

Shopping today was a good reminder of how much cooler it is in Boveglio than Pescia, which is 30 minutes down the mountains.  With little interest in grocery shopping, Tom will read his book while waiting in the car. 

Here are some of the deli meats we’ve purchased. We’ve found the beef to be tough here, instead, eating mostly eating chicken, pork and fish. Notice the price on the rare roast beef on the right-center at Euro $34.90 which translates to US $46.31 per gram (less than a pound).  We skipped that item!

Not today.  With the temperature over 100 degrees in Pescia, he found a place to sit outdoors in a shaded area in the parking lot for the over hour-long wait while I shopped in air-conditioned comfort. When the hour ended, he came inside to find me as always while together we finished in the deli and meat department.

Luckily, the butcher in the deli understood my translation for cutting the bacon “thick” as opposed to the manner in which they cut most deli meats, ultra-thin. As soon as I uttered “denso, spesso and grosso” he knew exactly what I meant. Meat is old in grams, not pounds. One pound of bacon is 453 grams. As I order each item, I explain how many grams I want. Typically, I ask for anywhere from 400 grams (.88 pounds) to 800 (1.76 pounds) grams. 

Any one of these cheeses is fabulous, a little pricey but worth it!

Today, I ordered 800 grams of the thick-sliced bacon which I divide into several packages, keeping it frozen, taking it out only as needed. With no nitrates in their meats, bacon spoils in as little as three days. This morning as I was making breakfast, I took out a small package of the remaining frozen bacon, which defrosted in a matter of 5 minutes. 

Learning to freeze and defrost foods quickly and safely has been a learning experience, something I always took for granted using a microwave since the 1970s. 

We’ve avoided these pre-made items, except for the delicious olive, many containing gluten, starch, sugar, and carbs, although many shoppers purchased a combination of these items to complete lunch or dinner.

Many mornings we add Italian sausage to our breakfast, which is trickier to defrost. The easiest solution would seem to be defrosting it overnight in the refrigerator. This leads to spoilage when some mornings we don’t want sausage. If we’d defrosted the sausage we’d feel compelled to eat it. As an alternative, I also keep smaller portions of sausage in plastic bags in the freezer. (There are no Ziploc bags here, only the old fashioned hard to open bags on a roll with those green wire ties).

Taking out the small bags, I place the sausage in a skillet with a bit of water with a tight-fitting lid. In 8 minutes, the sausage is defrosted and I pour off the water, proceeding to cook the sausage in the same pan which results in nicely browned properly cooked sausage. 

These extra steps take extra time and effort, but then again, what else do we have to do with our time other than to enjoy each meal as if it were our last?  Who would have thought that a lifetime of cooking would change so radically in a country with different standards, many of which are better for one’s health?

Arriving back in Boveglio around 2:30 pm, we rushed to get the groceries indoors out of the heat and put away.  When we returned the temperature in Boveglio was 95 degrees F (35 degrees C) with a little breeze. With no air conditioning, I would have been dreading spending the afternoon and evening in the heat. 

But now, as we’ve become more resilient, seldom complaining, we marvel at how much we’ve adapted.  In essence, it’s been life-changing going from an over-sized Subzero refrigerator with a separate ice machine to a tiny refrigerator, requiring frequent defrosting and the making of our own ice in tiny trays. This is one of a litany of the inconveniences to which we’ve adapted.

Surely, more such inconveniences will follow as we move from location to location, striving to learn, to accept, and to grow in the process.  Although, today I’m having trouble adapting to the flies biting me which… I doubt will be less bothersome in Africa.

Typical day in the life…

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The blue in this photo is a small kiddy pool on the shared patio next door.  We don’t use that area due to the plants surrounding it that seems to attract more wasps and bees than on either our private patio or veranda. By the way, we do not take photos of topless sunbathers, often seen lounging on this shared patio.

A number of our friends have asked, “What do you guys do all day?”

With no yard work, no major cleaning, no visitors, no dog to walk, no nearby store or health club, no family coming for breakfast or dinner, no cable TV, and no English speaking neighbors to chat within the yard, how in the world could we possibly keep from getting bored?

This is not exclusively our dilemma.  Many retirees eventually move to a low maintenance lifestyle in warm climates far from family and friends, facing a similar situation. 

While living in Scottsdale, Arizona from November 4 to January 1, 2013, we were entrenched in such a lifestyle.

Tom’s sisters and brothers-in-law were living only a half-hour away in Apache Junction Arizona as they did each year to escape Minnesota’s rough winters. Connecting with them each week or so was a respite from our daily flurry of activities as we prepared to leave the US.

Switching back and forth between two local restaurants for breakfast every few mornings, dining out for dinner each week, and occasionally attending a local comedy club created a pleasant break in our daily routine.

During that two month period in Arizona, we were busy preparing documents to enable us to leave the US for an extended period, learning to use our new digital devices, preparing our taxes, and spending a week in Henderson Nevada with family over Christmas.  Actually, we visited Henderson on another occasion, to babysit our grand dog Monty while son Richard traveled out of town.

Without a doubt, it was a busy two months, not unlike the busy times spent with many of our retired friends who have condos in warm climates, living a rewarding and fulfilling life.

As for us living in Boveglio, it was a culture shock to realize no one and I mean no one speaks English. Not at the grocery store, not in the street, not a neighbor, not our landlords, not our cleaning lady, no one. Adapting to this reality has been challenging.

Much to my surprise, now when a person speaks to me in Italian I am able to decipher the gist of the conversation, although not able to translate word for word nor respond in other than a few Italian words I’ve managed to learn. 

Today, I researched the word for “thick” in Google Translate.  The butcher at the deli slices the bacon (US type) too thin, resulting in in cooking too quickly and well done. There are several options for “thick” in Italian: “spesso,” “denso,” “grosso.” We’ll see how it goes when we shop for groceries in the next few days when I attempt to explain the preferred thicker slicing of the bacon.

Two to three times per week someone rings our doorbell immediately speaking to me in Italian. (Tom refuses to answer the door, understanding less than my feeble attempt). They are either selling mops, brooms, and dustpans, frozen foods, looking for an address, looking for a person, or our kindly Santina, dropping off yet another bag filled with vegetables from her garden which we cook daily, never seeming to run out.

A few days ago, Tom and I chuckled over the fact that we’ve had more surprise visitors at the door in the past seven weeks since we’ve arrived in Boveglio, than we had in the prior seven years in our old lives, with each exchange challenging my language skills.

The point well-made: Not speaking Italian has had an enormous effect on the activities if our daily lives. So, how do we stay busy each day?

Here’s the rundown of our activities today.  Tom’s day is similar spending more time online than I do. (I’d be curious to hear from others as to their daily activities.  I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re similar.  Please do share).

7:30 am
Bolt out of bed.  Turn on the coffee. Shower and dress for the day.  Make the bed together.

8:00 am
Start a load of laundry.  Then, drink coffee and fire up the laptop, checking in.  Put away dried dishes from last night’s dinner.  (In my old life, I never left a plate to dry in the sink overnight).

8:30 am
Make breakfast: sausages, bacon, and eggs. Eat breakfast.

9:00 am
Do dishes. Decide on dinner. Hand cut the cabbage and carrots for the coleslaw, a daily task. There’s no pre-cut coleslaw mix here. Cutting it fresh each day seems to add to its crunchy texture. Slice and dice any other veggies for dinner.

9:30 am
Removed all the food in the freezer stacking it in the kitchen sink to begin the process of defrosting the freezer for the third time since we’ve arrived. The freezer is tiny. We need every inch of space for our next shopping trip. 

10:00 am
Tom poured the hot tea water into a pan, placing it in the freezer to aid in the defrosting process, repeating three times. Within a half-hour, the freezer was defrosted. I replaced the food, noting what we have on hand for the upcoming shopping trip.

10:30 am
Took the laundry out of the washer, starting another load of whites, hanging it outside on the patio (where the bees congregate). Quickly hung the laundry, in another successful attempt to avoid being stung.

11:00 pm
Made hot tea, taking it out to the veranda with my laptop in hand, to begin writing this post, while responding to email, etc. Continued to check the laundry. When the sweat started dripping off of me, I switched to iced tea, capping off the liter container. Used the remaining hot water in the coffee machine to make a new batch of iced tea.

11:30 am
Observed topless woman arranging her chaise lounge on the patio next door. Mentioned this to Tom. Using his monitor as a mirror, he checked it out to no avail. Turning around would have been tacky and obvious. I had a better vantage point.

11:56 pm
Heard twelve clangs of the clock tower next door, always four to five minutes early, repeating at 11:58.  Removed the second load of laundry from the washer heading out to our patio to hang today’s final load. Finished making the pitcher of iced tea, chilling it in the fridge. Back to the veranda to work on my laptop.

1:00 pm
Laptop batteries were almost dead. Returned laptops to the kitchen table to recharge and began downloading TV shows and movies from Graboid for tonight’s viewing. Sat in the living room, playing Gin with Tom while English speaking international news program played in the background.  He won.

2:30 pm
Laptop batteries recharged, Tom headed back to the veranda while I read my latest mystery novel on my smartphone while lounging on the lumpy 100-year-old sofa in the living room. It was 95 degrees and steamy yesterday. Today it was only 90 but steamy as a gentle breeze wafted from the living room window, the opening now covered with mosquito netting, keeping the bees and flies at bay.

4:30 pm
Tea time, a daily ritual, hot or not. Tom had already showered and returned to the veranda with his charged laptop.  I brought in the now dry laundry from the patio while once again batted off the bees, folded everything, and put it all away.

5:45 pm
Begin final prep for our dinner, planned as usual for 7:00 pm. Yesterday, I prepared, but didn’t cook our dinner for tonight, a common practice with no microwave, making two night’s meals, cooking one each night for optimum freshness and enjoyment. Chopped more zucchini, to soon be cooked in olive oil with fresh garlic and herbs from the garden.

6:00 pm
Arranged the clean and dry tablecloth onto the kitchen table, setting our places for dinner: linen napkins, forks, and sharp knives.

6:15 pm
Mixed up the coleslaw dividing it into two batches and placed them back into the refrigerator to stay cold.  Preheated the oven to bake the cheesy chicken/bacon roll-ups, a recipe I got off Facebook, which I modified with local ingredients. Chopped the sausage and onion for the stir fry side dish. Prepared the fresh green beans. It’s a good thing that Tom does the dishes with so many pots to wash. Good thing there are enough pots in which to cook.

6:30 pm
Put the chicken in the oven. Started the stir fry sausage and onions.

This is the pan of yet to be cooked bacon and pancetta-wrapped chicken scallopini (thin slices of chicken breasts pounded by the butcher) that I stuffed with seasoned ricotta cheese and chopped herbs from our private garden, wrapping them in in the two versions of “bacon,” Tom prefers regular US-style bacon and me, loving the thin-sliced pancetta.  These cooked for 30 minutes at 375 degrees (180 centigrade). I topped this with an Italian pesto sauce I’d made using ingredients from the garden.

6:45 pm
Started the green beans. Reheated the zucchini. Tended to the stir fry as it cooked.

7:00 pm
Served dinner with each of us easily moving through the kitchen to fill our various plates with a wide array of food. Sat at the kitchen table eating our meal while watching a show, a favorite ritual when its just the two of us. Again tonight, we watched another episode of the current season of  “America’s Got Talent.” More light entertainment we find to be rather humorous and entertaining.

7:45 pm
Having enjoyed our dinner with the show over, Tom washed the mountain of dishes while I cleaned off the table the stove, and the countertops.

8:15 pm
Set up my laptop in the living room in order for us to watch two shows tonight, the final first season’s episode of The Killing (AMC) as well as episode 5 of House of Cards (Netflix production). Positioned ourselves as comfortably as possible on the lumpy 100-year-old sofa. 

9:45 pm
Finished watching the two shows.  Downloaded from Graboid, there are no commercials reducing the actual viewing time. It’s at this time, I usually take my smartphone to bed to read until Tom comes to bed.  (I read my downloaded ebooks on the same smartphone I’d dropped on the cement in March in Belize. Never having had the screen repaired due to the inconvenience of shipping it back and forth, I quickly read the first sentence at the top of the screen which was the most damaged area. Once past that first sentence, the remainder of the reading is a breeze.

11:30 pm
Tom came to bed, his smartphone in hand to read his book while I attempt to go to sleep. By midnight, he turns off his phone, lightly snoring a few minutes later.

12:00 am
Tossing and turning I struggled to find a comfortable spot for my still painful but improved right shoulder.  Within a half-hour, blissful slumber overtakes me only to be interrupted by dreams of having to get up to go to “work,” driving in the snow, office politics, deadlines, trying to achieve the impossible, a true “frustration dream” often similarly repeated several times a week. 

Does this mean I feel guilty about our simple life, our never boring routine? I don’t feel guilty, but I do still pinch myself every few days as many retirees may do, asking themselves, “Am I really free? Is it true that I don’t have to go back to work on Monday morning? May I now enjoy Sunday afternoons, angst-free, knowing that Mondays are just another “typical day in the life?

Dental care traveling the world…What are our options?…

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These Brushpicks have been instrumental in reducing tooth decay.


Although this looks too large to fit between teeth, it actually is the size of a toothpick, easily maneuvered in between each tooth providing a clean feeling after each use.

The last time we had our teeth cleaned was in Henderson, Nevada in December, eight months ago. Having always had our teeth cleaned frequently due to a propensity to excessive tartar build-up, I can’t seem to brush my teeth enough to rid myself of the reminder that the time has come.

Up until arriving in Italy, we had a bottle of unrefined organic coconut oil in our possession, used daily, as a 20-minute mouth wash that helped reduce tarter. Having to toss it when packing for our first flight from Dubai to Barcelona in June, I anticipated we’d have no trouble finding coconut oil in Italy.

Not the case. There is no coconut oil in any of the grocery stores we’ve visited thus far and I doubt we’ll be able to find it in Kenya. I need a dentist. 

Looking online I found a dentist in Pescia on Facebook to whom I wrote a message inquiring as to availability and pricing. A half-hour drive from Boveglio, with an appointment prior to grocery shopping, we’d be killing two birds with one stone.

Hopefully, they see my message. If no response within a few days, I’ll call on Skype with Google Translate up and running. Most likely, they don’t speak English.

Fortunately, we both had all of our major dental concerns addressed before we left the US with the final laser cleaning fine-tuning those results. What I’d give right now for that amazing dentist in Henderson, Nevada, a referral from son Richard. We’d immediately made an appointment at Dr.Patrick Simone’s office once we’d arranged to spend Christmas in Henderson, having the best cleaning in our lives.

Oddly, as mentioned in the post of December 20, 2012, his receptionist handed us a giant apple pie as we walked out the door. Tom ate the entire “Costco sized” pie in a few days. Piglet.

Over the past few years, both Tom and I have used these little plastic tooth cleaners we found at CVS Pharmacy and online.  After their regular daily use, our dentist commented on a major improvement in both of our periodontal issues.

Years ago, both of us had to have those awful appointments with the periodontal dentist for extreme cleaning.  Now, using these little sticks, we’ve been able to avoid any further procedures. Making a point of using them after each meal has became an easy habit. With aging, there appear to be more spaces between teeth inviting decay and tarter. 

Also, using baking soda in addition to toothpaste twice a day seems to keep my teeth white, but doesn’t appear to have the ability to reduce the tarter. 

We shall see if we can get a dental appointment before we leave Italy in a month.  If not, there are a few options in Diani Beach, Kenya that we’ll contact once we arrive.

The day to day concerns we took for granted in the US become challenging as we travel the world. Whether a doctor, a dentist, a haircut, or a grocery store, it becomes far removed from the reality we’ve experienced in the past. 

For us, it becomes a part of the adventure, more living outside the box, stretching ourselves to try “the new” and “the unfamiliar” that which we so much resisted in the past that we now welcome into our future.

Musings of life on the road…

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The loud clanging of the clock tower next door to us engaged my brain as the first chime prompting me to count. Seven clangs. It was time to get up. 

My brain was inspired to bolt out of bed. My body not so much, the aches and pains of endless humid days gripping my aging joints into stiff denial of their intended purpose.

The light from the bathroom window filtered through the mosquito netting Lisa had stapled to the frame, now fluttering on the edges in the gentle breeze inviting the smallest of the rambunctious biters to enter at will.

Tom slept quietly beside me as I lay on my back looking at another ceiling I had yet to notice until now almost seven weeks later. At least once, wherever we’ve lived, I’ve spent a morning, an evening, observing the ceiling almost in an effort to get my bearings. 

Where am I?  Is this really me? Is this the person of ritual, of routine always striving to make a concerted effort to be reliable, dependable, a person “you-can-bank-on”, one could always count on?

Where are the people I spent a lifetime trying to please? Not here. The one with me expects so little and gets so much, give so much, effortlessly. “They” never asked or expected anything of me. It was my own doing. I had to leave to stop. It was my own doing.

In part, it’s a “woman/mother” thing, giving without being asked, doing when doing didn’t need to be done, reaching out when the only hand extended was my own.

I miss them. But I don’t miss who I was when I was with “them,” the perpetual hunger to please, to be available when I wasn’t and near the end when I couldn’t eke out another moment of trying. None of “their” doing. All my own. Needing to be free.

Selfish? No. Self saving? Yes.  As one would go off on a quiet retreat to renew, rediscovery, refresh to someday return to a more accessible environment with a perspective of commonality, not sacrifice; of unity, not autonomy. To be free, in their midst. That’s the dream. It will come, by my own design. In time, it will come.

In the meanwhile, like the well-built and creatively designed ceiling looms in my range of vision, my weary joints coming to life, I roll off the too-close-to-the-floor bed, rise to my feet with a smile on my face, ready for another clear day; clear in spirit, clear in heart and now, clear in mind.

Until then, I am home.

Part 2…Rainy day road trip to the walled city of Lucca…

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Venturing off away from the crowds, we found our way to this archway through which we entered Piazza Napoleone which is now used as local government buildings, also hundreds of years old, worthy of visiting but attracting less tourists.
The opposite side of the archway above as we entered the Piazza Napoleone square that housed government offices in these amazing structures.

As we continued on our rainy walk through the walled city of Lucca, we were reminded of all of the other villages, towns and cities we’ve visited in Italy. They all were filled with rich history, centuries old buildings and a strong sense of pride in maintaining the integrity of its original design and intention.

Palazzo Ducale in Lucca is located in Piazza Napoleone.  Decorated in the center is the statue of the Criminal Lucca Francesco Carrara.


Imagine a government worker taking a break during the day to sit outside in Piazza Napoleone, read a book, and relax. The Italians, as many European countries consider an afternoon break from their work as sacred. That is why we’ve surmised, that they engage in “happy hour” until after 9:00 pm after working later into the day.


Again the rain picked up so we scurried on our way in a feeble attempt to avoid getting soaked.

There is no doubt in our minds that the appreciation of a country in its heritage is indeed a treasure for its visitors and residents alike. The care the Italian people have given to their expansive history is evidenced in the fine condition of these treasures, a gift they bestow upon the world for all to see.

Taking off in another direction from the government square, we walked on this road as the rain pelted us as we sought shelter in various doorways.


Here is the summer music festival schedule, attracting visitors from all over the world. Had it not been a rainy day, the streets would definitely be more crowded.


This statue was protected from the crowds that most certainly filled this area at night during the Summer Festival rock concerts.


The stage area for the evening rock concerts occurring almost every night during the Summer Festival, attracting visitors from around the world.

Of course, we must give credit to the designers and architects who originated and built these historic monuments to ensure their works would live in the future for many to enjoy. Mission accomplished.

We weren’t able to get close enough to see the inscription on this statue with a sudden rush of tourists in our way.

 

This is the above mentioned sudden rash of tourists, we encountered, many dining under the umbrellas seeking shelter from the off and on rain.

Thank you, Italy! We’re grateful for the experience!

There were numerous residential areas in the walled city, most with parking exclusively for tenants, requiring a windshield sticker.
Working our way back to our car brought us to a few less historical spots and a number of dining venues. Notice the cutouts of Humphrey Bogart James Dean on the wall of this restaurant.
A few areas inside the walls of Lucca were worn and yet to be restored, such as this.
Everywhere we go in Italy we find bell towers. We were unable to go inside this church to take photos, which was prohibited. Once inside a fee was imposed to get closer to the altar. We were content to look from afar.
An awaiting horse and buggy for romantic or weary tourists.
After exiting the walled city by car, we were reminded of our earlier parking challenge (described in yesterday’s post), grateful that we were able to see as much as we had.  On our return, we stopped at the grocery store for a few items in Pescia, before continuing on the winding hairpin turn drive to Boveglio, happy to be safely home once again.

Part 1, Rainy day road trip to the walled city of Lucca…

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Lucca aerial view in the “borrowed” photo.  The remainder of the photos are all ours, some blurred due to the pouring rain.

After commenting in Sunday’s post regarding the recent lack of soaking rain, we took off on Monday morning amid an ominous looking sky. Would our long-awaited road trip to Lucca be spoiled by rain?

We were driving around the walled city of Lucca in the pouring rain looking for a parking spot.
As we made our way around the exterior of the walled city of Lucca, we traveled under this canopy of trees.

Halfway down the mountains, we realized that we should have brought the umbrella in the stand by the front door. Do we turn back calling it a day or forge ahead risking getting soaked?

As we waited our turn to enter the one-way road to gain access inside the walled city. We’d waited long enough for the rain to stop and the sun came out.  We were anxious to get inside before it started again.
The walled city piqued our interest to the point that we were determined to find a decent parking spot close to the entrance. The rain was pelting the windshield and we didn’t want to walk any further than we had to without an umbrella.
I took a photo of this street sign near where we first parked outside the walled city of Lucca in the event we had trouble finding the car later.  This is the general location that Tom perused looking for a place to get change for the required parking sticker.

With the unpredictability of the weather changes in these hills, we hadn’t bothered to check the weather report having found it be relatively inaccurate when doing so. 

Once inside the walled city, we encountered several dead-end one-way roads requiring that we back up long distances. Cars were only allowed in specific areas with no signs indicating dead-end roads. Patience prevailed.

Sunday was by far the hottest day and night we’ve experienced since arriving in Boveglio six weeks ago. The night was steamy. The fan and opened windows offered little relief as we tossed and turned most of the night.  Monday morning, as we prepared to take off on our road trip the heat and humidity were unbearable. 

Would the rain ever stop and would we find a place to park?


The more we drove around, the more the rain picked up.

Hoping to leave around 10:30 am, we decided to leave early if only to get into the air-conditioned car. I can honestly say I don’t recall being that hot and uncomfortable since the day we visited the White Mosque in Abu Dhabi while I was sick with that awful virus and required to wear the long black abaya while the temperature was well over 100 degrees. 

Having poorly planned for the rainy day, our frustration level grew as we drove around looking for a place to stop.  Surprisingly, we both stayed calm and cheerful.  Gosh, that helps in these situations, doesn’t it?
As we maneuvered our way down the mountains through the usual hairpin turns Tom was mindful of the numerous signs warning “roads slippery when wet.” As the rain began to fall on the windshield in giant drops, we looked at each other wondering if we should have postponed our trip after all.
It was raining too hard to open the door or the window of the car to take a photo. Instead, once we were parked in this free parking spot by this church, we were within running distance to the restaurant where we had lunch while waiting again for the rain to stop which eventually it did, although not entirely.

“Ah,” Tom said, “we’re already committed. Let’s continue on.”

I agreed. Less than an hour later we arrived in the walled city of Lucca, rain pelting so hard, my attempts at photos taking were considerably hindered. Then the fun began!

Many of the old buildings were homes for local residents.  We wondered where they were able to park their cars.  We never encountered any hotels within the walls of the city although they may have existed. Outside the walls, the remainder of the city was hustling and bustling with tourists, restaurants, and lots of traffic.

Finding a parking spot in Lucca was an adventure in itself.  Keep in mind that Tom is not the most patient guy on the planet.  His frustration level exacerbates, minute by minute when he can’t find a spot causing him to drive too fast to be able to grab a suddenly available spot. 

As you can see, Tom was not thrilled with the Italian menu and lack of options befitting his picky taste buds. Too many items included many vegetables and an abundance of squiggly seafood, none to his liking. On the ships, he was more adventuresome eating escargot and Oysters Rockefeller. What happened?  He cringed when he saw the octopus tentacles on my warmed seafood salad.
This restaurant had an extensive menu, most in Italian.  All Tom wanted was a pizza with sausage, mushrooms, onions, and olives. When his pizza arrived it was uncut with a crispy thin crust making it difficult to cut. The sausages looked like rounds of hot dogs. To say the least, he wasn’t thrilled with the pizza, only eating a small amount.  My meal was extraordinary, full of seafood, perfectly cooked, and seasoned.

Desperately trying to bite my tongue and yet be of assistance as we drove around the walled city of Lucca in the pouring rain was challenging. 

Finally, after lunch, we began our three-hour walk through the walled city of Lucca.  Apparently, this building is a name according to Google Translate.

Gaining access to the walled city can be tricky when attempting to park outside the massive two-mile-long wall surrounding the entire city of churches, historic buildings, restaurants, and shops.  There were a limited number of access points requiring a substantial walk-in in most cases.

This is actually a stuffed pug in the window of a shop in the walled city. So cute!

Alas, we found a spot within a 15-minute walk. With the pouring rain and no umbrella, no hoodies, no plastic bags nor any hats we were stranded for a while. As we sat in the car, again Tom suggested we go back home and reschedule for another day. 

The side view of the Church of San Michele in San Michele Square.
The front view of the Church of San Michele in San Michele Square.
This statue is of Francesco Burlamacchi.
A more detailed view of the steeple on the Church of San Michele.

Mutually agreeing to wait in the car for the rain to let up, we thought we’d give it an hour. After all, we had come all this way. We watched other more ambitious tourists walked toward the walled city with their umbrellas, wildly flapping in the lofty breeze while getting soaked from the sideways rain.

This restaurant and outdoor café look appealing but we’d already had lunch.

After waiting 30-minutes, the rain let up enough that we exited the car to begin the walk to the city. Five minutes into the walk, Tom suddenly stopped at a ticketing type machine situated on a large post indicating (in Italian) that one must purchase a parking ticket before leaving their car unattended or they’d be towed. Oh, good grief! 

This may have been Piazza San Giusto.

Could we even imagine the nightmare of coming back to find the “sold” rental car towed away?  I thought it was weird that no other passersby were purchasing parking tickets at the machine.  The cost was Euro $1 an hour.  Estimating that we’d be in the walled city at least three hours, the cost would be US $3.96, not too bad after all.

The bigger problem was that we didn’t have a single Euro coin on us.  All the Euros coins we’d had were inside the plastic bags we’d hung on the windows and doors to scare off the flies. 

Tom handed me the car keys so I could go back to wait in the car to ensure we wouldn’t be ticketed or towed while he’d find a place to get change.  I began imagining that a cop would come by instructing me to move the stick shift car.  I hadn’t driven a stick shift vehicle in 25 years. 

This was my favorite statue in Lucca, Giacomo Puccini, famed composer of Madame Butterfly, La Boheme, and more. In the background are his house and a now-closed museum. His statue seemed to attract the most tourists, especially us opera lovers. Unfortunately, opera season is winter.  Otherwise, we would’ve seen a few, no matter how far we’d have had to drive.

And if I had to move the car after I made a fool of myself in Italian traffic, how would I tell Tom who was running around to find change? This was one of those times, a working cell phone would have been handy. But it was also the first time we’d be separated from each other in a public street. (Next country, we’ll be getting local SIM cards).

This mime painted white, as we’ve seen in other European cities attracted a considerable amount of attention, many tossing coins into his gold bucket on the ground.

I headed to the car. Tom took off across the street to find a place for change for a $5 Euro bill. While sitting in the car waiting I made a special point of watching to see if anyone, anyone at all, put money in the ticket machine to pull out a sticker to place on their parked car. Not a one! But that was the least of my problems.

The Pretorio Palace Clock.

When 20 minutes passed and Tom hadn’t returned, I started watching the only clock in my possession which was on the camera. When 30 minutes passed, I was looking at the Lucca map as to the closest police station.  What was taking so long???? What if something happened to him? What if two hours passed and he still hadn’t returned? A million possibilities ran through my mind.

We were in a busy commercial area of shops, bars, and restaurants.  I’d noticed a bank as we approached the parking area. Was he stuck in one of those “revolving bank tubes?” Was he kidnapped? Was he injured?

Matteo Civitali (1436-1502) was an Italian sculptor and architect.

The minutes dragged on. I promised myself to do nothing other than wait until a full hour passed.  hen I’d get into action, calmly and resourcefully.  My fear was for his well being, not for me being stranded without him. 

Overreacting would not be helpful. I’d made a plan that I’d leave a note on the inside of the windshield, stating that I’d gone to the police station a few blocks away and to look for me there. The clock ticked away. My heart thumped in my chest.

Finally, at 40 minutes, I saw Tom briskly walking in the returned rain down the long sidewalk, anxious to get into the shelter of the car. Sighing a sigh of relief, explaining my worry about him, he proceeded to tell me his awful experience at the bank across and down the street, a long convoluted story of waiting in line. 

He was behind a customer in line who appeared to be purchasing a home while a solitary teller was busy copying page after page of documents, one at a time, with the printer in another room, having the customer sign one page at a time. As time marched on and not wanting to give up, he waited impatiently, all the while waving his $5 bill, hoping someone would help him. I get it. I wasn’t mad, just worried.

As we woefully looked at each other, the rain now furiously pelting passersby, having not yet put the money in the machine, we decided to take our chances and drive inside the walled city, unsure if this was even possible or if there would be a place to park.

Finally, we were inside in one of the limited interior peripheral free parking spots with the rain still pouring down as indicated in some of our photos.  Within the running distance of an opened restaurant coupled with the original plan on having lunch in Lucca, we ran for it. 

The restaurant, overflowing with customers coming in from the rain, was a quaint red checkered tablecloth kind of eatery.  Within 10 minutes we were seated at a table busily figuring out the Italian menu. 

I loved my gluten -ree warm seafood salad with mussels, clams, calamari, and octopus on a bed of steamed vegetables.  Tom didn’t enjoy his pizza, a medium-thin crispy crust pizza arriving uncut with sparse toppings, a far cry from our homemade pizza.  With a few menu items he was willing to eat, mostly seafood, he varied from our strict GF diet (with no ill effect for this single occasion).

US $35 later, we were out the door, as the rain gave us a welcomed reprieve to begin our long walk through the walled city.  Our parking spot by the restaurant didn’t require payment with us free to park for the entire period of our self imposed excursion. 

With an excellent map of Lucca in hand, kindly given to us by our new friend Michela, we were able to peruse the majority of the walled city visiting most of the highlighted areas of interest.  The rain was off and on, the heat and humidity consistent but we were content to explore, take photos, and the time rushed by.

Three hours later, we’d seen everything we’d hoped and were anxious to get back into the air-conditioned comfort of the tiny stick shift car. 

In Europe, taking a leak is an issue. One cannot walk into an establishment to use their “WC.”  One must make a purchase and then may pee.  Tom and I have learned to plan accordingly, drinking only one cup of coffee this morning, peeing before we leave the house, drinking no hot or iced tea before leaving and bringing only one bottled water to share, taking small sips as necessary in the heat. 

If we weren’t careful, we’d have had to put “pee” expenses into our budget.  No, thank you.  Pee should be free. We have a receptacle suitable for either of us, that we keep in the little car in the event of an emergency, which, I should mention, has been utilized.  Enough said.

Lucca was an interesting city.  The history of the walled city is here. Rain or no rain we had a good day experiencing yet another aspect of the rich Italian history.

Stop back tomorrow for Part 2 with the remaining photos and commentary.  Thanks as always, for stopping by!

No seat assignment available for us on Turkish air…A letter from Expedia.com…

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With the midsummer heat, few flowers remain in the gardens.
With our upcoming flight from Venice, Italy to Mombasa, Kenya on September 2nd, arriving 17 hours later on September 3rd, we’d expected to be able to sit together.

When booking the flight several weeks ago, trying to choose our seats for the three legs of the flight, a message popped up stating that seat assignment will be available at a later date, unknown at this point.

As I walked through the gardens, the bees swarmed around me.

The thought of the possibility of that long flight without being able to sit next to one another was frustrating for us both.  Playing Gin and dining together (yes, they serve meals) makes the time pass quickly, an excellent diversion.

Knowing little about Turkish Air other than reviews we read online, we have no idea what to expect.  The reviews varied from “hate them” to “loved the flight” more on the favorable side.  There were few flight options to Kenya.

The honey bees love the lavender, still in its full glory.

Yesterday, concerned about the lack of seat assignments, I contacted Expedia.com from whom we purchased our tickets.  With the usual good customer service, I expected a response within 24 hours.  Within hours, they responded to our request with the following:

"Dear Expedia Customer,  
Thank you for contacting us about your seat requests for your flight reservation. The airline has not made seats available for a pre-assigned seat request at  this time. The airline will assign seats for you when you check in.
Meanwhile, your seat assignment requests have been sent to the airline. Please be advised, that the airline ultimately controls, seat assignments and we cannot guarantee every request will be honored. Confirm your specific requests with the airline before departure.   If this does not answer your question or solve your problem, feel free to reply to this message or  call us at 1-800-EXPEDIA (1-800-397-3342) or 1-404-728-8787 (for callers outside United States and Canada) and reference case ID: ????? Thank you for choosing Expedia.  Dennise Expedia Customer Service Team"

All we can determine from this message is that when checking in at the airport, we’ll have to stand in line, hopefully, early enough to get seats together, which may or may not be possible. Why? Why do it this way?

The shade of the overhanging vines creates a pleasant patio area in our yard.

If their online system is not sophisticated enough to allow seat selection? If that’s the case, are their planes updated and maintained to meet modern standards?

Each time we encounter a possible stress-inducing situation, we develop a back-up plan to ease us through the scenario. In this case, very early arrival at the gate in Venice is our best option. 

However, when we were departing on our last ship, the Norwegian Spirit in Venice, we were warned not to arrive at the airport over three hours before a flight’s departure.  One would not be allowed into the terminal if earlier.

We’ve noted our calendar:  arrive at Marco Polo airport in Venice at 7:30 am on September 2nd, considering our 10:30 am flight. 

A good soaking rain would bring all of the vegetation back to life.  It rains a little a few times a week but not enough during the summer heat in the 90’s each of the past several days.

Also, checking online for information about that airport, we discovered that they have a technology kiosk where we’ll be able to recharge our laptops and smartphones prior to departure.  At this point, we’re unable to determine if any of the three planes we’ll be flying have “plugins” at our seats (what seats?) for recharging digital equipment. 

Having our equipment charged will enable us to read Kindle app books, play games, and of course, write about our travel experience as it transpires, posting it on the blog in real-time.  If the plane doesn’t have plug-ins, we’ll recharge our equipment at kiosks at the two other airports along the way, Istanbul, Turkey, and Nairobi, Kenya, at each of which we’ll have layovers and plane changes.

Plan in place.  Stress reduced. 

The next flight stress inducer is overweight luggage, especially since we don’t want to pay the extra $700 in fees when we flew from Dubai, UAE to Barcelona, Spain. The process of reducing our load has already begun as we’ve disposed of more and more items each week, including making a pile of items we may ship to Kenya, after all. 

In checking with the owner of the house in Diani Beach, he’s agreed to accept a box of items for us.  It will be insured. If it’s stolen, we’ll be covered. We shall see how this rolls out.

More evidence of a need for rain.  This grass was lush green only a few weeks ago.

Tom has expressed his desire to drop off whatever rental car we have at the Venice airport the day before our departure. With the two hours it took to originally pick up the car, he feels more at ease doing it this way. 

At first, I disagreed with him.  Why bear the expense of transportation back to the hotel the previous day? With the hotel offering a complimentary shuttle to the airport, we’d have to pay the one way.  As these other concerns have materialized, I agree with him.  

In any case, we would have done it “his way” whether I agreed or not. To avoid arguing over any such item, we always acquiesce when one of us is adamant about a particular issue. Thus, we don’t argue, making the assumption that either of us is smart enough to make reasonable decisions.

The ongoing process of planning to reduce stress and surprises well in advance takes time and careful thought.  With that in mind, surprise, often occurs, forcing us to ditch our best-laid plans to begin again. I guess that is the way life is in general for all of us:  “Expect the unexpected.”

Road trip tomorrow!  To heck with waiting for the rental car agency to let us know where and when to swap out the rental car. Not a word from them. Off we go, back later in the day with photos and the story of our expedition.

Oh, it’s the simple things…

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A European Hornet’s nest was being built by a slew of giant hornets in a crack in the small opening at the top of this photo. These old stone houses are a breeding ground for nests for all types of critters.

While hanging the laundry this week, I heard the loudest buzzing of a hornet that I’ve ever heard,  which apparently was a European Hornet. Following the sound, I looked up to find a nest of giant wasps being built into the high stone wall on the patio. Knowing they were busy building the nest with little time to bother me, I finished hanging the wet laundry, hoping that they were just “looking” to build a nest.  Not the case.

Yesterday, again hanging laundry, their numbers had increased and we knew we had to contact Luca, the owner, and ask for his assistance. If we both weren’t allergic to bees, hornets, and wasps, we’d have taken care of it ourselves. It wasn’t worth the risk.

Contacting Luca by email, within hours we had a response translated to English. “No worry. We come to fix it tomorrow.”

At 10:00 am this morning, Lisa and Luca appeared at the door, with bags of “goodies” to help us, including laundry soap (we’ve supplied our own), cleaning supplies for Santina, items necessary to rid us of the hornet’s nest and “mosquito netting” for covering the windows in the kitchen, living room and master bedroom.  I jumped for joy! 

This en suite bathroom window will now provide a good breeze coming off the mountains at night when the temperature usually drops into the 60’s.

The thought of being able to chop, dice, and cook in the kitchen without bugs biting me made me squeal with delight. Being able to have a window open at night was beyond belief with it cooling down into the 60’s most nights. Having the window open in the living room while playing gin or watching a movie was more than thrilling. Oh, it’s the little things.

Lisa stapled most of the edges of this “mosquito” netting as screens for the windows.  This kitchen window attracted many flies and bees with frequent cooking going on each day.  We’ll keep an eye on it to ensure no gaps leave an opening for insects to enter.  We removed the Ziplock bag to keep flies at bay, moving it to another screen-less window we often keep open.

Lisa and Luca…amazing! As soon as they saw the email stating we needed their assistance with the hornet’s nest due to our allergies, they went to work on a solution making it possible for us to have windows open in this warm weather.

The netting wasn’t quite large enough to use a single piece.  Lisa and I agreed that two well-placed pieces would work on the living room window, close to where we frequently sit on the sofa to play Gin and watch movies.

Now as I write this, the nest is either dead or dying, the windows are covered and we couldn’t be happier.  On top of it all, while they were here working, Santina had placed a large bag of green beans and zucchini on the doorknob when we didn’t hear the doorbell.   Lisa had seen her drop them off, telling me when I questioned who had brought them.

I wish I’d heard her knock on the door when she dropped them off so I could’ve said, “grazie mille” (thank you very much) as I’d said over and again to Lisa and Luca, almost making a fool of myself with gratitude. 

Also, I wanted to thank Santina for the three pieces of “torte” which Tom tried this morning, finding them unusual but delicious. Due to the crusts made with flour, he only ate the insides, to find they were all “‘sweet” pies that one may eat for dessert, although they were made with vegetables. 

It killed me not to taste these. In my old life, those three different pies would have been right up my alley.  I won’t tell her that I couldn’t eat them and possibly hurt her feelings. (She doesn’t go online). But I will rave about the flavor of the pies enjoyed by Tom and the generous bag of the green beans and zucchini some of which we’ll have tonight with dinner.

The flowers are still on the ends of the zucchini, which we’d never see at a grocery store or farmers market.

How I long to bake many of my favorite recipes to share with these wonderful people!  Unfortunately, I can’t find the ingredients to make most American favorites. Maybe I’ll figure out an alternative soon, using the local ingredients. 

It’s the simple things in life that mean so much, isn’t it?
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My razor broke a few weeks ago. There are no less than 20 blades in our luggage that fit my old razor, now useless.  I can’t find a similar razor.  I shave every day. Foolishly, in the US before we left, I purchased a nifty women’s razor from Walgreens, their own brand.  They no longer carry it. 

While in Pescia at the larger grocery store, Esselunga, they were only a few options, mostly disposable razors.  The only non-disposable types were two that had a battery to enable it to “act” as an electric razor. (Had I purchased a larger brand name, I still wouldn’t have been able to find a replacement razor).

I’d be OK with the battery-operated type but they are heavy, not suitable for our luggage plus. Anything with batteries is an issue other than the most pressing items, such as a camera. Every ounce counts!

With no other options, I had no alternative but to purchase the disposable razors. Do I throw away the expensive blades? I guess so. 

During the week-long period when I had no razor, I used Tom’s razor, swapping out a separate blade each day, then putting his blade back. Cumbersome. Glad that’s over.

It’s the simple things. 

Its been over two weeks since I gave up Crystal Light Ice Tea, suffering no withdrawal. I’ve thought about it a few times each day as I sipped on the bubbly bottled water, tiring of it in a few days.  Plain water bores me.

Letting Tom use the remaining Crystal Light until gone allowing me to go “cold turkey,” he guiltily suggested that I make “real” ice tea. You know, tea bags and water.

Unable to remember the last time I made “real” iced tea, we looked online as to how many tea bags to use as opposed to how much water after we’d purchased a box of 50 Lipton teabags for US $2.25 (not a bad price).  It wasn’t easy to find the plain ice tea recipe. 

Who makes ice tea these days with many options available in the grocery stores?  I don’t drink regular soda with its tons of sugar not suitable for my way of eating.  If I did, there are no sugar-free options here, other than Diet 7-Up  and Coke Zero, neither of which I care to drink.

After a frustrating search online including at the Lipton site, I decided to try the suggested one teabag in one liter of water.  Horrible.  Too weak.  Later I added another teabag settling on this recipe:

  • Make 1/2 liter plain water in the coffee pot or teapot for hot water 
  • Drop two teabags in the hot water 
  • Let sit for 1/2 hour at room temperature
  • Remove and toss teabags
  • Add other 1/2 liter cold water
  • Add to taste, Stevia or liquid Splenda
  • Chill until cold, adding ice and lemon to an insulated mug

It’s palatable, although not as good as the Crystal Light.  There’s a little caffeine from the two teabags which is fine.  One could use decaffeinated teabags if caffeine is upsetting.

The 50 teabag box is enough to last for the remaining time we’ll be in Boveglio.  This one-liter container has been lasting for almost two days.

Wherever we may travel we’ll be able to find teabags, water, and ice.  As for the lemon; a cut lemon without preservatives only keeps a day or two in the refrigerator. I said goodbye to the lemon. It’s not worth tossing halves of lemons every few days although I appreciate the fact that the food here has no preservatives. The freezer is our friend, although it already needs to be defrosted again before our next grocery shopping.

Yes, it’s the simple things, the comforts in which we surround ourselves whether living on the road such as we do, packing for a weekend camping trip, or planning for a stay in a hotel.  We tend to gather the familiar items that help us feel “at home” and “at ease” adding to the pleasure of the time away.

Letting go of many of the comfort-related items from our past, embracing new items we’ve incorporated into our lives as replacements while adopting new comforts we’d never noticed or appreciated, is all part of the process of simplifying our lives. 

Ironically, all of this may change when we arrive at a new location.  Ironically, this is also OK with us.