Tag Archive for travel

COME TO ASSISI!

The world is going to hell. You want to write about it, a novel, but you don’t know where to start.

The world is going to hell. You want to escape it, just briefly, and write a novel, but you don’t know where to go.

You’ve started to write a novel, but it’s become such a mess that you wish the entire thing would go to hell.

Come to Assisi!

I’ll be leading a two-week fiction writing workshop from the tail end of June into early July at Art Workshop International in Assisi, Italy. I’ve been doing this for many years. Assisi is beautiful, the hotel is beautiful, and you’ll hang around with writers and artists making beautiful work.

We’ll get you started, or keep you going, unknot the mess and straighten things out. You’ll critique and be critiqued by others in the workshop and, not entirely incidentally, eat wonderful food. You’ll sit on the terrace and watch the sun go down.

Come to Assisi!

You need more pix?

COME TO ASSISI!

 

We interrupt the Cuba posts…

They’ll be back. But I want to talk about Assisi. Every time I say, “Hey, I’m teaching in Assisi this summer, come do a workshop!” some of you say you wish you’d known sooner, and some say, yes, you’ll come some year…

So here’s the thing. For you folks who wish you’d known sooner, it’s January and the program starts at the end of July! This is about as soon as I could tell you!

For you folks saying some year, I get it, I really do, but: Notre Dame will be under scaffolding for the next 20 years. Yes, I know that’s not in Italy. My point: if you’d been saying “some year” about seeing Notre Dame…

I understand if you can’t afford it. Though keep in mind that one, right now the workshop has an early bird 10% off special; and two, many organizations give in-service kinds of grants to help with this type of thing, especially if you’re an educator. The dollar is strong right now and flight prices are low.

But if something besides money is holding you back, let me entice you: the hotel is lovely (we all stay there, all classes are held there, we all dine together), the food is wonderful, the town is quiet and beautiful, and — your book isn’t writing itself!

COME TO ASSISI!

 

 

 

Havana domiciles, Part 2

First, I found you a photo of Monty’s apartment from the living room looking out to the terrace. Those chairs are where we had morning coffee, fruit, and bread, before embarking on the day.

 

Now: Monty and his nephew Sam, my traveling companions, have cousins in Cuba. The connection is through Monty’s mother, a Cuban who met and married an American in North Carolina (where I’ll be in a few weeks for the Crime Scene Mystery Bookfest in Fearrington, she says parenthetically) in the 1940’s. They weren’t living in Cuba when the Revolution came, but much of the family was. What happened was, if you supported the Revolution and stayed, and you owned a house, you could keep it, though if you also had rental properties the government took them and gave them to poor families — often those who’d been renting from you. If you left, whatever property you left behind was forfeit. (Thus the supply of gorgeous Art Nouveau, Art Deco and Mid-Century Modern furniture in the used furniture shops.)

The cousins, Olimpia and Carlos, believed in the Revolution and stayed — in fact Carlos, an economist, worked at the Cuban Consulate in Berlin for a number of years. They had a terrific Art Deco house and they have it still. It was built by an artist, and has a garden and a breezeway to a rear building that served as his studio, and now houses Olimpia and Carlos’s son Pepe and his family.

Olimpia and Pepe in front of the house.

 

Back house, interior. All original 1930’s.

 

Front house, staircase.

Front house, display nook under staircase.

 

Front house, secret bathroom behind display nook.

 

 

Cousins in the garden. Monty, my buddy and traveling companion, is in the white shirt on the sofa, and Sam is the bearded guy standing on the right. Standing with him are Pepe, Pepe’s sister Claudia, and one of Claudia’s sons. Seated are Olimpia, Claudia’s other son (he’s in the Army) and Carlos. Pepe’s wife and kids were traveling, and Claudia’s husband was working. The garden has four mango trees but it wasn’t mango season, sob.

 

Havana domiciles, Part 1

I was only in Cuba for a week, only in Havana except for the day we went to the beach. So I’m hardly an expert on living arrangements on the island. I can, though, show you what I saw.

First, in this post, Monty’s apartment. He only recently bought it, so it’s still being furnished. (Thus, from my earlier blog post, the pillows, blankets, and hardware.) It’s on the 5th floor of a 7-story building constructed in 1958, designed by Maria Elena Cabarrocas, an architect from a distinguished family of Cuban architects. The light when you walk in is amazing: the front wall has two wood jalousie doors that open onto the terrace and two glass panels beside them, floor to ceiling.

View from the terrace

 

Shot with my back to the terrace, living room/dining area. (Though anytime we ate in the apartment we ate on the terrace.) Monty walking toward the bedrooms. Kitchen door on the immediate right, door to maid’s room (!) a little farther on right.

The building has 2 long thin apartments per floor, designed so every room has cross ventilation. Some of the windows are wood jalousies to allow the breeze; for some reason unknown to me Havana seems to have few mosquitoes* — although I came bug-ready, with repellent and anti-itch cream — so the jalousie windows have no screens. In each room at least one of the windows is glass, so in a rainstorm when you close the jalousies there’s still light.

My room

Monty had already bought a fridge; the way it works, sometimes there are fridges in the stores, sometimes there are stoves, sometimes there are clothes washers, depending on what ship came in. When we got there, lo! the store had stoves, so he bought one even though the kitchen still needs to be renovated. Right now, the stove in its box is serving as a coffee table.

One of the best parts of the trip was shopping for furniture. Havana has a number of stores selling mid-century modern furniture that was sold off or left behind as people fled the Revolution, or since then. Although the provenance of any individual piece might be a sad story — or not — the furniture is beautiful and Monty is happy to support the Cuban economy and give pieces new homes.

View from the building’s hallway into the apartment as the new bench arrives.

Next post, Monty’s cousins, two other homes we visited, plus some other residential exteriors, inhabited and not.

 

*There are those who say it’s the constant ocean breeze, and those who say it’s the government anti-mosquito program since the advent of dengue fever.

The Thanksgiving Adventures of the Five-Berry Pie

I bought a pie — blackberry, raspberry, blueberry, strawberry, and cranberry — on Wednesday, to take to my sister’s house in Philly, where I was headed for the holiday. The Greenmarket where I got it is near the Rubin Museum. I was going there, but I went to the market first, to make sure I got what I wanted. Then I went to the Rubin, but I didn’t want to endanger the pie by carrying it around the museum. So I took it to the checkroom, giving the coat-check guy a chance to add “May I check my pie?” to his list of Sentences I’ve Never Heard Before.  All well and good, unchecked the pie and took it home when I was done.

Next morning, the plan was to head down to the Staten Island Ferry and meet the illustrious JL on the other side, then drive to Philly, which is how we do it every year. Since I was planning to go to the gym without going home first when I got back Friday, I packed up the pie and detoured to the gym Thanksgiving morning to drop off some stuff I’d need. Then the pie and I took the subway to South Ferry.

When we got to the ferry terminal, however, I got a phone call from the illustrious JL: he was sick as a dog, could not go! I wished him well (he sounded awful) and thought, Uh-oh, what now? Here I am at South Ferry with a pie and the need to get to Philly, no plan to get there and it’s Thanksgiving Day.

I walked over to a picnic table, settled the pie, and started searching buses online. Amtrak, I was sure, would be sold out and cost a fortune besides, but they were my next plan. But lo, Megabus had a few seats left on the 2:45. I grabbed one up.

And now there I was at South Ferry at 10:15, on a gorgeous day, with four hours to spare before my bus. I could go home, but the weather was too spectacular. I could walk up to the bus, though that’s a little farther than I was prepared for, carrying the pie. I could walk partway, and then sit and have a cup of tea. Before I decided, though, I needed a bathroom. I started back to the ferry terminal, but a thought hit me: the Smithsonian’s NY branch of the National Museum of the American Indian is right there. All Smithsonian branches are open 365 days a year — this one too, yes?

Yes! The pie rode the conveyor belt through the X-ray machine. That museum used to have lockers, so I thought I might be able to check the pie in a second museum — surely a first for any pie — but no lockers any longer, so after the trip to the ladies’ room, where I sat it on the window sill, the pie and I went to the “Transformers” exhibit, which I’d wanted to see anyway.

After the Museum, I started to walk uptown. How far I’d go. whether I’d have tea, was still undecided, when I ran into Diane Fusilli. We exchanged hellos, and she told me her husband and granddaughter were upstairs — we were right outside their building. So I went up to visit with Jim Fusilli. I walked in and said, “I brought a pie, but it’s not for you.” Jim and I had a cup of tea and caught up, played with the adorable granddaughter, and then I picked up the pie and walked on. I took the A train to 34th St., thinking maybe I could go standby on the earlier bus.

The walk from 8th Ave. to almost the river, where the bus leaves from, is very long, but the day was still beautiful. Since Jim’s tea had been herbal, I bought a cup of caffeinated tea from a food truck on 10th Ave. and sat on a park bench to drink it, the pie beside me. Then I went on, and when I got to the bus stop I asked the guy whether I could stand by on the 1:50. It was only 1:20 so I figured I was in plenty of time. Haha– the 1:50 wasn’t running that day.

Now, I’d had Jim’s tea, and the other cup, too. No way I was going to wait in the cold for over an hour for my scheduled bus. So the pie and I hiked back to 9th Ave., to use the facilities at the diner. Then we hiked back. The pie sat on the sidewalk with me next to it, waiting for the bus.

The bus pulled up right on time. I settled in, and when we left, the bus wasn’t full, so the pie had its own seat beside me. The bus ran late getting out of NYC because the Thanksgiving Parade spectators and participants were leaving at the same time. For awhile, trying to get into the tunnel, were were behind a float of snow-covered hills and a mountain goat.

The pie and I finally arrived at my sister’s house at 6:00, having left my apartment at 9:00. Dinner was waiting, warm and welcoming, as were my relations.

And I must say, the pie was delicious.

More Assisi, and a little Bastia

I had the best of intentions of blogging often. I was thinking Ah, I’ll be lounging about, drinking a little cappuccino, laptop on my lap… My tenth year here at Art Workshop International in Assisi and I still haven’t figured it out. Between teaching and hanging with my buddies, between walks and art and my local friends I only see once or twice a year, all that lounging time doesn’t exist.

So here I am, belatedly, back again, with some photos. Most of them are from Assisi, though we took a little trip — and I mean little, literally 4 minutes on the train (though of course you have to walk down to Santa Maria degli Angeli to get the train, and then wait for the train, so from the hotel the trip is about an hour and 4 minutes) — to Bastia, and strolled around.

View from our favorite cafe

 

Breakfast at the Hotel Giotto (plus a little fruit for lunch…)

 

The hard-working guys holding up the rose window at San Rufino

 

Below street-level plantings. Don’t show this to Grow Dammit, he’ll feel insecure.

 

Flower pot on the wall

 

Sunflowers, almost ready for harvest

 

Bastia: the market’s over

 

Bastia: painted wall

 

Filipina nuns in habits and identical straw hats waiting for the bus.

 

Bastia: I don’t think this is the police station any more…

 

…or else some cop has a very green thumb.

 

Dragon sings karaoke

Assisi, Assisi

Arrived at the Hotel Giotto, went to my regular room, unpacked and I already know where everything goes. Charles Kreloff and Bob Hughes had a slice of Pane di San Francesco waiting for me. Went for a walk around town: it’s been beautiful for 1,000 years and it changes but it doesn’t; still beautiful. Herein, the first set of photos. Including food, as requested.

Salad at dinner

Archway

Bootleg photo in the Basilica (no photos allowed!)

Basilica door detail

Outside my room, dawn

The Pope’s Dining Room in the Basilica. For nine hundred years, when a Pope visits Assisi, this is where they feed him.

Interior garden at the Basilica

Lemon and sage ravioli (SO yummy)

We visit the Basilica at night

Walkway

 

A great idea! In fact, two.

I’m just loving this: ice stupas!

To bring water to drought-stricken areas.

Photo by Sonam Wangchuk.

And speaking of the Himalayas, come to Kathmandu!  Click the link for details. (Not the photo, the link.) See you there!

http://www.himalayanwritersworkshop.com/mystery-writing-in-kathmandu

 

More Mississippi

Now that I have a little leisure — after the New Orleans/Mississippi trip there were Philadelphia and Saratoga Springs, and the teaching semester started — I’m catching up on some photos I wanted to show you.  At Dunleith Castle, a mansion we toured in Natchez, one of the rooms has absolutely sensational wallpaper. Les Zones Terrestres by the Zuber Co. is what it sounds like — all the climates of the earth, shading into one another in a 33-panel spread that wraps around the room. These are details. I was hoping to find more complete photos on the Zuber website, but no. The blocks it was printed from were destroyed during WWII, so it’s not made anymore. It’s astoundingly beautiful. The White House has a Zuber wallpaper, Vues de l’Amérique du Nord, in the Diplomatic Reception Room, and another Natchez mansion has a different set, Hindustan, along the gallery walls. I’ve never been a wallpaper fan, but these knocked me out. I wish I could show you more but I couldn’t back up far enough to take wide shots. If in Natchez, though, do not miss this!

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Doe’s Eat Place

This is me lurking in the shadows of Doe’s Eat Place, Greenville, Mississippi. Doe’s was originally a honky-tonk, and later a restaurant. On the wrong side of the tracks because Doe himself was Italian, which made him, like the Lebanese and Jews of Greenville, colored folk, the restaurant found itself sneaking white folks in the back door because the steaks were so good. Now anyone can eat at Does, and I do recommend it.

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