Orvieto As It Was…And Is: The Grand Tour

Click Here to purchase Orvieto As It Was…And Is So many things happen by chance, coincidence. Little did I think that when a friend insisted that I accompany him to meet a former school teacher in a village about 15 minutes from Orvieto that I would end up marrying him and moving there. But alsoContinue reading “Orvieto As It Was…And Is: The Grand Tour”

Forthcoming: Orvieto As It Was…And Is

Years ago, when I was living in a village 15 minutes from Orvieto, that inimitable city on a cliff in Umbria, some friends of mine said: “Why don’t you write about Orvieto? You’ve been here so long and could do a sort of Grand Tour, a guide to the city, and how it has changedContinue reading “Forthcoming: Orvieto As It Was…And Is”

The Watcher: Florence continued III

I watched. I wondered if I could call them friends. Acquaintances was, perhaps, a better word. Some did though become real friends. Like il Dottore.  I had been going through some papers to find an address – I must say I hate to throw papers of whatever kind away, including grocery lists – when aContinue reading “The Watcher: Florence continued III”

The Watcher: Florence continued II

The days passed punctuated by moments of sun and of fog. Yet I was not as alone in Italy as I had been in Germany, despite relatives. Wherever I looked, there were long-standing friends, somehow soul mates, the pink and yellow toy houses in the hills, the rows of dark cypresses, exclamation points indicating aContinue reading “The Watcher: Florence continued II”

Boat On The Arno

A lonely boat floats on the reflections in the slow-flowing silveryArno. Every morning the man lowers his long-handled shovel into thewater, a proboscis feeding on the sand, then to be disgorged on thebottom of the boat. Behind him, many of the buildings, facades lost tothe all-too-recent war, reveal their innermost secrets. Upstream alatticework cast-iron arch, replacingContinue reading “Boat On The Arno”

The Watcher: Florence

A quiet car until Bologna. My fellow travelers were an interesting group, to be observed as they observed me.  All men and all Italians, except for a tall thin American. An older mustachioed man in an air force uniform, two fat, short typical businessmen, a young priest, slender like a reed, a small tired-looking man.Continue reading “The Watcher: Florence”