Diana Baur, a meeting

At the weekend, and thanks to the kindness of Stefano and Miriam, I finally met one of my favourite bloggers, ceramic artists and B&B owners ... the lovely Diana Baur.

Diana and her husband run a beautiful B&B in Acqui Terme, Northern Italy, and it so happened that I discovered that they were located just a few kilometres down the road from where I was spending the weekend. 

I will use their words, already written, to introduce you to their beautiful B&B in Italy: B&B Baur is a top-rated inn, located in the beautiful Roman Spa city of Acqui Terme, in Piemonte, Italy.  Surrounded by history and thousands of hectares of wine hills,  Piemonte is known to gourmets and wine experts from all over the world as Italy’s premier gastronomic and enological region.  To read more ...

Diana showed us around on Sunday, explaining the renovations, and talking with Stefano and Miriam of NYC.  A place much-loved by all three of them.  

Anyway, I can't recommend this beautiful place highly enough, and Diana and her husband are delightful hosts.  You can get a sense of the B&B via her photographs here.

Her art and ceramics can also be viewed on her website.  And she has her first book being published soon but you can read more of that on her blog - A Certain Simplicity.

Grazie to everyone who made that meeting possible.

Piedmont

On Saturday, I hopped on a train, heading for parts unknown to me ...

Stefano picked me up at Novi and then I arrived, on a small patch of paradise, in the Italian countryside.  Before any of my more cynical friends roll their eyes over my casual use of the word 'paradise', I will explain. 

In New Zealand, I was a creature who loved nature.  I didn't need wilderness, I just enjoyed the sky doing its thing, seeing healthy plants, walking my dogs in school fields, along beaches or river edges.  It was a recipe for dreaming.

And I have always loved the scent the nature, especially in Spring, when plants seem to celebrate their winter survival and fill the air with stunning scents.

In Piedmont, Italy, the air, without exaggeration, seemed to be constantly scented by some delicate flower.  Acacia I suspect but I don't know enough about the beautiful plant, I photographed, to be sure.  Does anyone know what the flowering 'tree' at the end of this post is?  Or what the gentle, jasmine-like scent might have been?

Update: Stefano let me know the name ... it is Robinia pseudoacacia or False Acacia.

I rested, in a way that I haven't rested in a long time.  I watched the clouds put on a small show and I photographed so many of the plants as I wandered the grounds.

But that aside, I met excellent people. On Saturday evening, friends of Stefano and Miriam gathered and the Genovese humour made me laugh.  It's a wicked humour but gently wicked.  And I tried a range of Genovese foods, out there in the Piedmont countryside ... Cima stood out as a new favourite.   I'll write of it another day but Miriam's mother made it and it was delicious.

And wine ... the wine I tasted, it came from the area and was unlike any I had tasted before but in a good way.

Yes, let me say quietly ... I had a most marvellous time.  Grazie mille, Stefano and Miriam.

Just a note really ...

Life goes on, here in Genova.  It's 20 celsius, as I write this, and I can hear the beautiful hum that this city makes, as people end their day of working and meet for aperitivo.

I've been working at the kitchen table that looks out over the street here, window open ... washing drying in the beautiful weather.  I can hear the Swallows playing their kamikaze-like games out in the skies.  They squeal as they chase each other up and down streets.

I found a wonderful art gallery today. We couldn't talk because we lacked language but I loved the work I saw there.  It's not the photograph, which is beautiful anyway, but what the artist does with the photograph afterwards.

The lion you see on the home page inspired me to visit with the lions of San Lorenzo as I passed by them today but I just discovered my TIM connection is too slow here, in Genova ... I  can't load my image.  Perhaps I'll stop by at the internet cafe tomorrow anyway ... ciao from Genova.

Furthermore, we have not even to risk the adventure alone; for the heroes of all time have gone before us; the labyrinth is thoroughly known; we have only to follow the thread of the hero-path. And where we had thought to find an abomination, we shall find a god; where we had thought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves; where we had thought to travel outward, we shall come to the center of our own existence; where we had thought to be alone, we shall be with all the world.
Joseph Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, p. 18 (3rd edition)

This quote popped up on my Facebook wall and bemused me some ... because it seems true to me, in a way.

I come on these solitary pilgrimages to Genova.  I'm seeking something of home.  The sea, the hills, even the friendliness of Genovese ... all of it feeds something inside of me.

But don't imagine I'm a fearless wanderer.  I'm really not.  I love it here, more than anyplace else but, it's not all simple or beautiful.

On Monday night, I struggled for most of the night, with what I initially imagined was an allergy problem.  My mouth was incredibly dry and, of course, the more I thought about it, the worse it got.  I had eaten a couple of things that I usually avoid and so allergy attack was there at the top of the list.

I thought I could tough it out but the night was long.  It's amazing how alone you can feel in a country not your own, when you're struggling with your body in the night.  So ... around 4am, I decided to call a taxi and quietly visit the emergency room.  Well, my Belgian phone didn't want to play and it may be, that I panicked ... which, of course, made the dry mouth dryer.

What I didn't know about Italy was how stunning their emergency services are. The Genovese should so proud of the people who work the phones.  I phoned in, they found someone who spoke English ... the calmest man in the world I think.  He asked me what was wrong and I told him that I thought I was having an allergy problem and my mouth was very dry and yes well ... I was a bit shaky by then.

He said, shall we send an ambulance.  The New Zealander in me was horrified.  I explained that I had failed with a taxi and I was only trying to get myself to the hospital, just in case it wasn't serious. 

He asked, shall I send a house doctor.  I quaked in my boots and said, 'will it be expensive'.  He said, 'no, it's free'.

I was stunned.

So, at 5am, a doctor arrived.  A practical kind man, from Syria originally and, using our English, his German and Italian, we solved my problem. 

I was alternately mortified and grateful.  It seems that there three options and none of them too serious.  In German, he told me it was small problem.

He was kind, he left, having reassured me and said, 'and now sleep'. 

And I did.

The books I am Reading ...

As always, I am reading more than one book.

The book that is all but making me melt with pleasure is titled, Waiting for Robert Capa.  It's by Susana Fortes and I love it.  I would rate her poetic prose as highly as Anne Michaels writing. I loved her book Fugitive Pieces ... in terms of beautiful writing.  Actually, I loved Anne's poetry too.

I am also reading an old favourite, in terms of author.  William Dalrymple's, Nine Lives, is a most delightful series of travel stories that I am biting into whenever I want something different.  I love his writing and have done since first reading In Xanadu, forever ago.

And then, I am also working through The Fire Starter Sessions by Danielle LaPorte. 

Each of them have their own wisdoms, their own electricity, their own beauty.

Oh yes, and I'm writing a book, here in Genova.  Did I tell you?  I'm sure I did.  Piano, piano ...

Kim asked ...

Kim asked if I was in Genova yet ...

I so am.

I have this huge and uncontrollable smile on my face.  It started as I journeyed from Milan towards the mountains and Genova ... and I can't stop it.

I've been trying not to frighten anyone, with my madly happy face, as I run errands upon arrival.  I'm working on containing it within me, as a quiet bubble of joy. 

I have a beautiful bouquet of flowers.  I have an internet connection.   I have wine ...  and I'm still smiling.  It's like that.

I am back in this city I love so well.

All kinds of threats have been made if I return without completing the book this time ... and so I must.

But Kim, yes, I am back.

Ratatouille

I have fallen quietly in love with ratatouille and I am currently caught up in the madness that is discovering 79 different ways to cook it ... without Gert noticing.

Tonight's variation was ratatouille lasagne, with chicken too.

It was stunning!

He's still laughing really.  I think we're both a little desperate after the long winter of grey skies, small sunshine hours and an extreme lack of yummy fresh vegetables ... or perhaps that foggy lack of clear-thinking that led to boring meals.

There's a Di newsletter in process, an exciting development with my book on Genova, a few more workshop possibilities, a big party in Brussels, and a return to Genova next week.  It's busy ... it's delicious.

Leiden, Holland

One of our guests left his super special headphones at our place over the weekend.  Monday found Gert with a day off, us still with another day of car rental, and there we were, searching for a destination.

Since I was small, the journey has pretty much been the destination ... a journey was surely called for and so, we drove 140kms to Leiden, in Holland, and returned Jacob's headphones to himself.

It was a lovely day out and Jacob was a gracious host.  We wandered the  tiny little Dutch streets with him, finding small treasure like the house below ... it was perhaps 4 metres wide. 

Jacob took us out for a most delightful lunch at De Stathouder, thank you to Shannon for the recommendation. 

Life

For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin… but there was always some obstacle in the way. Something to be got through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid… at last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life.
Alfred D’Souza