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Tuesday, June 28, 2016

Go Fly a Kite! in Italy

Summer in the Umbrian Countryside

Summer has suddenly burst through in Umbria, with hot, sunny days after a long spell of thunderstorms, rain, and chill.  Spending my final weeks here in the beautiful Umbrian hills, I'm taking in all I can of my surroundings... while rampant mosquitoes get their fill of me. Reciprocity.

What's Kite-Flying Got to Do with It?


An Italian friend invited me to an unusual event in a nearby village of Toscolano. It was to be a slide-illustrated presentation on kite-making, followed by a luncheon for all attending. YES! 

This was just the kind of out-of-the-ordinary event to rival conventional ideas that might be creeping in about Italian life. That the invitation came from a rather reserved and distinguished, mature Italian woman made it all the more charming. 

We drove together to the event (me silently remarking on how competently fast she took the hillside curves, compared to my more tentative and foreign driving habits). 







A small, 15th C. chapel was open near the venue, with some semi-restored frescoes lining its walls. As I've said before, there is always something remarkable in almost every locale you set upon here.
chapel in Toscolano with my friend, Anna Giovanni

After being introduced to the event organizers (friends of my friend), we joined about 50 other people of all ages seated together at long tables. Not only were we to hear a presentation, we were also going to make and decorate kites ourselves! What a kick for adults who'd never thought to play like this! My rather reserved friend was, at first, a bit embarrassed by the idea, but  then got fully into it. Good for her. And what fun to see the transition of all of us into child-like seekers and makers of objects that would fly.
my kite in progress
We were given the materials and instructions while the rather wonderful history of kite-making flashed on the large screen. Everyone set to work, everyone earnest in their playful attempts to make a kite that might fly... and one decorated in our own way. 

A fine novel, the Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini, came to mind, along with thoughts of the meaning and value of kite-flying in human history. Leonardo, Benjamin Franklin. Kites in all cultures of the world, especially as featured in China and Japan, throughout the far-east, and elsewhere. Their transformations.

When our kites were finished, with streamers and string attached, we went to a nearby field to test them for real. The test: Would they fly?

A hot sun was beating down on the field. I took off my shoes and tried to run in the grass with my kite held high Seeing my lame attempt to get my kite to fly, a young boy came over and asked if he could fly it. Indeed, yes. And so he did! Around and around he ran, delighted. And delighted me.
and so it flew...

The Take-Away Message

If there's meaning in kite-flying (of course there is), here's what I make of this experience. It's the importance of play, of exploration, of seemingly unimportant things. Of friends and new acquaintances. You never know what may fly.

More Creative Life News

You can read and see more about Italy plus other travels and creative adventures by this itinerant artist at Creative Life News here.





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Saturday, June 11, 2016

Getting Lost (and Found) in Italy

Exploring in the Umbrian Hills

watercolour by Janet Strayer
Today was a good day for a hike. After many thunderstorms and much overcast weather, today's sunshine encouraged my decision to explore the hills around our Umbrian homestead. I was on my own, and my  destination was a hike to the chestnut grove across the ravine into the deeper part of the forest. A good and then bad idea.

Not hard to find the right path if you know the way. But then, nothing is hard -- if you know the way. 

I had good directions from a visiting neighbour who'd already explored  the area. Being a student of ecological history, he told me that these chestnut groves in Italy were at least several centuries old,, having been planted by ancient communities to forestall famines in other foods.  The chestnuts are still harvested today. 

The Chestnut Grove

Do you know how lovely it is to come upon a chestnut grove in the midst of a forest, especially when you don't exactly know where you are? It's a special spot. The tree branches are magnificently broad and heavy with leaves, while the brown ground is clear and soft. Enchanting.
After three happy hours exploring, I thought I should head back home. 

After five hours, however, hiking around and around, in and out of the beautiful chestnut grove, I was officially lost

I have a talent for getting lost. Like Hansel and Gretel, I should have brought something (more durable than breadcrumbs) to lead me back home. 

Ironically, all the trail signposts  that pointed in different locations were printed with the same location name! 

My cell phone didn't operate in the woods.. Besides, who would I call given a recent thunderstorm had knocked out landline phone service in my home territory (in which there's also no cell reception).


Officially Lost

You can see the view taken from where I got lost in this photo. I can almost see my house in the leftward distance. But how to get there from here?????




























So, I searched around the woods yet again for another trail. And then another. I was turning in circles that lead nowhere. It was getting dark. Finally, I just continued on one path that lead to an asphalt road. Aha! Better than a lone night in the forest when friendly trees can turn monstrous, not to  mention the wandering wild boars. 

I stood by the road, which at least hinted at "civilization" and stuck my thumb out at the first passing car. No luck. How few cars travelled this rural route? But returning to the forest to look again seemed even worse. So...

Like a fortune's fool, I waited and held my hands up prayerfully to a beat-up car coming from the opposite direction.  Yes, it stopped! I sputtered in Italian to explain my situation.  The kind driver, named Basilio, drove me home. I learned he was from a neighbouring village, Melezzole. I told him I went to Cesare's hardware store in that village. He told me he worked for Cesare. And so it went. And so it goes... in Italy.

And Found

It would have taken another 45 minutes for me to have reached my village on foot along that road. But I didn't know that, and my feet were already blistered.

I reached home, gulped a liter of water, and ate the cold chicken and pesto salad I'd prepared the day before. Thank you, Basilio. Thank you, Italy. Thank you, good fortune.

More Creative Life

You can read and see more about Italy plus other travels and creative adventures by this itinerant artist at Creative Life News here.
 @ janetstrayer.com