FINI BELLAGIO 2008
Post Category: Updates
July 29th, 2008 at 05:06amGale Fulton Ross
BELLAGIO 2008 continued…..
Three wonderful guests arrived last week from Boston so I have had no time for writing. Today they are out shopping (marathon shopping) because they leave the day after tomorrow and God forbid they should have missed a store. I have had a wonderful time eating, walking, laughing, talking, looking on as they shop, adventuring off to other parts of Lake Como. We visited Menoggio, Varenna, San Giovani and Como this week. One day I suggested we take the 45 minute ride to Como but we got on the wrong boat and ended up taking a two and a half hour trip stopping at all the villages on both sides of the Lake. We had great seats outside at the front of the boat so none of us cared about my inability to read schedules. We did take the hydrophoyl or fast boat back. That was the one that only took 45 minutes. Como has great shops and is more urban than Bellagio.
In Varenna we met up with three of my friends from Florida who had been to France and then on to Como. The next day they came over to Bellagio so I have had quite a time entertaining. Just another marvelous birthday month long celebration in Bellagio. I’ve picked up several recipe’s to experiment with friends when I get back to the states. They won’t know whether or not I was successful in my efforts unless the ate the original in Italy so I have no doubt they’ll be impressed.
Money is crazy because the “funny-money” Euro goes fast taking along almost twice as much of my dollars. You have a small cup of coffee and a small brioche…the charge 4 Euro which translates to $8. Then you have pasta and wine for lunch; cost 20 Euro, translation almost $40 and end up at dinner with a bill of 35Euro only in dollars you just ate up another $60 to $70. Do that three times a day for thirty days and you should own part of the damn town, but it is picturesque, charming, peaceful, friendly, colorful and being here makes me happy. For me it all balances out very well. Who needs another drop-dead gorgeous silver bracelet or outstanding piece of clothing anyway?! Ahhh, so goes life.
Having my friends, John, Barbara and Cynthia running around the apartment yipping and yapping in their Boston accents has been more than a blessing. John spends each morning chanting which sounds like strange mumbling but I know is keeping him open, calm, gentle and loving to all human experience. Especially the one he is having now in a house of three overly dramatic, mouth running all the time hot flashing menopausal women. If we are not laughing, talking, eating, shopping then we are fanning ourselves with any handy piece of cardboard or paper we can get our hands on. Cynthia just gets up leaves the table saying “I’m going outside to get some air.”..which is interesting when we are sitting in an outdoor cafe! John’s wife Barbara is always looking for him because whenever we are looking in shops and windows he goes to sit down on his haunches and chant. “Where’d he go…she says, he is always wandering off, did anyone see which direction John went and like magic he appears out of mid-air! I think he makes himself invisible with the chanting. Once he hears Barbara calling his name through the ether he materializes. He ought to help other husbands who go shopping with their wives and her friends by giving them the magic words….namyeoh, etc. etc. abracadara could probably do the trick if you say it one billion times fast without taking a breath!
John drove us to Milan but we left the map at the apartment and got lost inside the city looking for a one zillion year old cathedral called the Duomo with turrets like lace. I kept seeing it when I looked up but John believed in making a series of right turns that kept taking us away from the area. I’ve been there several times but this was the first time for my three buddies. I was a backseat navigator. Once we found a place to park we hoofed it around back alley’s, cobblestoned sidewalks, towering buildings and realized we walked about twenty minutes in the wrong direction because we followed John who like most men acts like he knows where he is going when he really wished one of us would have a hizzy-fit and take over the responsibility of getting us to our destination. So, I did, by hysterically asking every human being I met in the worst Italian possible…”Dove da Duomo prego?!!!!!” I received many different responses most of which I could not understand unless they pointed with their fingers and made universal hand gestures indicating left or right which they did always in the opposite direction from where we were walking. Finally, we got there; immediately found seating at a cafe in The Galleria; had several glasses of wine. John chanted and disappeared. Barbara, Cynthia and I went off looking in store windows and life was good again. By the way we took pictures of the famous Duomo but were too tired to go in. I guess by now you know our priorities.
Like my friend David who is usually in Bellagio this time of year, but unfortunately could not leave work in NYC…both Barbara and John are wine connesoirs, excuse the spelling of that word. I just used some artistic license because I do not feel like finding the dictionary to look it up. I am sure you understand they have some form of expertise in the swirling, smelling and tasting of wine. So, as usuall, I have drank my fill and learned several new concepts. For instance wine can smell like shit and still be good as a matter of fact it can smell like anything you want it to smell like and you are allowed to say it. Suddenly the experts will translate what you say into Wine language. I said this wine smells like dirt at one of our dinners and they both said…Hmmmm, yes, yes, it does have a zinc aroma, lots of tawo Barbara said which is the french word for dirt. I think I spelled that wrong too. In any case don’t be concerned if your wine smells dirty and shitty….it is probably a good year!
Yesterday we found a beach where the tourist do not go and quite frankly I don’t believe are invited in the village of San Giovani. We took a boat there one stop past Bellagio.When I purchased the tickets the Ticket Taker peeked over her glasses and said several times San Giovanni? And, I said “Si, si. Then when we got on the boat the Ticket Taker looked at our tickets peeked and said “San Giovanni?” “Si, si”.
We were the only people getting off a full ship. We were dressed for the beach because we saw it from our boat the day before and John and Cynthia were anxious to swim in Lake Como so off we went in search of the place where the locals went swimming. We decided to follow two Italians wearing bathing suits up and down some very peaceful cobblestoned streets and sure enough they lead us to the beach. Now this beach had absolutely no sand, only large and medium size rocks so it was no place to go barefoot. It was also densely covered with human beings sunning themselves like alligators,whales and penguins. There was also a small cafe with tables in the sun and shade. The Bostonians sat down in the shade and ordered lunch. John took one of his walks and found that we could rent chairs. I was able to speak enough of the language to get the chairs for the going rate of 5 Euro for the day. We could only stay for about two or three hours before we had to head back.. who cared about $40. So the kind gentleman placed our chairs.
After eating I found my chair, sat down looked at the Lake closed my eyes in contemplation of my many blessings. Barbara took a nap. John and Cynthia considered their swim. Finally, Cynthia dis-robed. Let me explain that we were on a topless beach. The women took off their bathing suit tops with total abandon. Something I admire in European women. They are comfortable with their bodies and the men do not oogle and ah or make rude comments. They all languish about in complete tranquility. Of course this is before Americans land on the spot and they the Europeans) know we are foolish Americans who are not generally comfortable around nude people. However, my friends and I are well traveled and well behaved so once we saw the lay of the land we proceeded to relax in the sun choosing to keep our tops on. Now here’s the good part. Cynthia is more than extremely well-endowed. She made all the women on the beach look like toddlers. Her bosom sprang forth like they had been shot out of a cannon. Those gentile Italian’s went bug-eyed….boing! Trying not to be obvious as they stared at Cyn’s chest was more than a notion. They shifted positions, twitched turned, peeked from shut eyes when poked by their partners…it was hilarious. Cyn walked slowly into the water like she was the actress with blonde braids in that movie “TEN”… Bo Derek, only the water was about 40 degrees and she was cold as hell. She managed to do her time in it though often turning back towards the beach and the glaring Italians, yelling in her Boston dialect…”Brothah, this watahs cold!” All the while the Italian men hoped she would come back to her chair, take off her top and share what they considered a visual buffet!
John stood at the water’s edge for at least thirty minutes chanting while he contemplated the cold water. Evenutally he too ventured forth. All was right in the world. The Americans swam in Lake Como. I don’t swim….I take notes for my blog.
We missed our boat, missed the little train and walked about three miles back to Bellagio hoping we would not get struck by a Jag, Mercedes, Renault, Peugot or smart car.
Anyway, I am tired so I’ll write more at a later date. Don’t you wish you were here?
Gale
Post Category: Updates
Add comment July 25th, 2008 at 06:00pmGale Fulton Ross
2008 IN BELLAGIO, ITALY
It has been a while since I last wrote in this blog. It was last year as a matter of fact.
Well, I am back in my apartment in Bellagio, Italy. I have been here now going on three weeks but just have been too tired to write. This has been a difficult year and my body came here to sleep, read and draw. For the past few weeks I have only worked on the sleeping part. So, today, I decided to write a little something.
Once again my driver, Christian, picked me up from the airport. He is still a good looking Italian who peeks at me through his rear-view mirror while he brings me up to date on what is going on in the village. It appears my regular sojourns have paid off and I am now considered a friend who leaves but who also returns. I get greeted with kisses on both cheeks and heart felt smiles. The drive still gets very tedious when we wind around the mountains…my stomach wants to heave but we always get to to Church Square before I feel the need to ask for a barf-bag.
Everything is still the same, almost. The weather has been very chilly with rain. My friends who own shops are crying about the weather and the economy. The euro is almost two to one on the dollar. Ain.’t gonna be no Prada shopping this year!
But, I am not here for shopping. I am here for relaxation, time with friends, drawing, walking, eating and drinking wine. All of which I do very well and surprising to say…without using much of my dinero. I put myself on a very tight budget so instead of pasta I eat Snickers. Instead of Spaghetti, I eat potatoe chips and instead of Gelato (ice cream) I eat yogurt. Ok, I lied on the yogurt part….I love gelato! Since I have gotten to a ripe old age I don’t drink as much which means a bottle of wine can last three days instead of one. So…..I am doing just fine. I may be a few pounds heavier with diabetes when I get back to the states, but I won’t be broke. And, of course, when friends arrive from home they take me to dinner so occassionally I eat pasta, vegetables and limoncello (a great after dinner liquer made from lemons, sugar and vodka, I think.) All is good in my world.
Yesterday was a gorgeous day. The sun was high in the sky and very hot so I went up to the terrace and sat in one of the white plastic loungers. After being there for a while I noticed a man standing on his terrace watching me. Well, I was a little uncomfortable because I had on a bathing suit. After a certain age I don’t believe women should show too much skin and don’t wear them in public. I much prefer a flirty sun dress or crop pants and a tank covered over with a big friggin shirt….but alas, I am on vacation and I did not expect that someone would see me in this thing I bought back in ‘92. No, just kidding, I bought it for the trip and for this terrace in Italy. But, I didn’t plan on anyone seeing me in it.
After a bit of time…I decided I had enough sun on my front and turned my chair around. Now, I was no longer facing the nosey man or the beautiful lake. I was facing the door to the terrace. I sat down, pulled on the arms of the chair to make myself comfortable lying down and promptly fell backwards out of the chair. The arms came off their hinges and the back of the chair fell to the ground carrying me with it only the weight of my body made my legs almost come up over my head. Trust me, it was hardly a graceful performance.
When one reaches a certain age and falls they take a few moments before getting up to make sure they aren’t dead. I sat there in a very awkward position trying to figure out how it happened and why the stoned terrace had not given way spilling me on to the street four floors down or I imagined myself floating dead in the lake which could never happen since it was at least a half mile away from where I was. All of this contemplation took seconds but I heard this voice yelling in Italian, “Mio Dio, Signora…va bene?! VA BENE SIGNORA!? Once my silly behind realized that it was the man across the way I uncurled my torso and sheepishly peeked over the wall of the terrace; gave the man the thumbs up and said ,’bene, molto bene, grazie. He looked at me; turned quickly; went through the double doors to his apartment and surely laughed his ass off. I on the other hand smiled at my clumsiness, thought about how fortunate I was to be on the terrace in Italy taking in the sun;corrected the chair and commenced to reading with all the dignity a diva should have while inside, I was screaming with laughter!
My first week brought friends who are also collectors with homes in Sarasota and Princeton, N.J. We had a great time together visiting world-class sculptor Pablo Atchugarry and his wife Sylvana. He is outstanding and whenever I visit his studio (bigger than a airplane hanger) and his home (designed as a Museum) I wonder why I continue to seek my muse. His work is so beautifully spiritual and amazing. He turns marble into oregami. White marble looks like it has been gently folded and placed standing up on a table like a napkin without a ring. Only his sculptures are two to three stories high and make you feel like you are looking at a miracle or certainly the work of a genius. Mitch and Linda my friends bought two for their home in Sarasota and when they arrive in November Pablo and Sylvana may come for the installation. Now these are not three stories but they are each about 5 feet tall. Once I give it a great deal of thought I am inspired by his work and not intimidated. I will continue seeking my muse.
That is it for today. I will write more tomorrow, maybe.
Gale
Post Category: Updates
Add comment July 18th, 2008 at 04:42amGale Fulton Ross
HOME AND WORKING
Hello:
I made it back to the states safe and sound. I am currently working in my studio in Florida. I’ve settled back into life in real time. Today I am working on commissioned pieces. I’ve also uploaded some pictures from Italy, along with some images of new work.
Gale
Post Category: Updates
Add comment September 29th, 2007 at 11:03pmGale Fulton Ross
FINALE!
I have come to the end of a wonderful time. I leave for the states in one week. Time did not go fast. I don’t believe in time. I am standing here now as my past, present and future. It’s been one long beautiful moment spent with friends, family and Italy. Leaving is not painful, all that has happened is in my heart forever. I’m coming back next summer. Now, it will be good to get home, see Mom, Frank, Craig, eat something greasy, salty or sweet. Check out the climate in the lives of life-long friends and smell the paint!
My studio suffered a small indescretion while I’ve been abroad. The hot water heater leaked in a closet that hosts my personal treasures. Hanging were paint clothes that I did not want to discard, several boxes of family photographs along with two portfolios of old watercolors and sketches. I’m from the school of “don’t throw it away.” In an artist’s studio the sketches on the floor might someday be worth something.
Anyway, the heater blew its top but did not completely burst. It leaked. The leak was so bad that it began to drip down into the bookstore on the first floor. Once it was discovered the troops resolved the issue. The troops are the building manager, my next door neighbor, Rachel; Jess, our maintenance man; and Frank, my love-line. They all came together to “make it better.” Rachel and Jesse called frantic about the art, Frank called frantic about the art! I assured them that in the scheme of things the art was unimportant; not to worry; whatever could be saved place it on the floor out of harms way so that it could dry. It was the family photos that concerned me. Hundreds of pictures of days gone by; friends, family no longer here and my son Craig’s elementary school pictures. I need these to blackmail him every now and then. In those pictures his name is “Chip” now he is Craig Ross, Jr. award winning writer/director/filmmaker; my best creation! There are pictures of my youngest sister, Theresa; her son, Franklyn (I called him my “butterfly”) both gone. My dad, my grandparents, uncles, aunts, my brother-in-law, Mack; living on the otherside but always alive in the images saved. Holidays, weddings, parties, the 60′, 70’s, 80’s, 90’s all in boxes for me to pick through when I need to remember the best of times.
I love visual memories.
Alas! Everything was saved by my heroic paint splattered, torn and tattered, paint clothes. They took the brunt of the water. They suffered so that the true art could win! The lesson here is not to throw away my old paint clothes, but to turn off the water heater next time I leave town for three months!
Frank sent me pictures of the studio. Needlesstosay, it is a mess! However, we will both recover.
I wish I could write in words the depth and breadth of my feelings at this point in my life. It is impossible. Gratitude fills my soul. Life has begun anew. I am entering another chapter. Summer may have ended; not my life. The artist is looking foreward to Winter. I will write again when I am back in the States. Watch for photos from Bellagio.
Ciao, …a presto, Gale.
Post Category: Updates
Add comment August 16th, 2007 at 07:36pmGale Fulton Ross
WHAT A BLAST!
It is time to stop celebrating my birthday and concentrate on my work. I thought an update would help me focus on what is ahead.
Before I tell you about my friend Brenda’s stay in Bellagio and our trips to Milan and Florence to spend time with my aunts and uncles I need to share with you something I just witnessed this evening!
When you go out of the front door of this apartment there is a slight incline going one way…..down! Well a little old man driving a big grey Mercedes decided to come up! There is a blind curve at the top which is why it is one way. People are walkinging everywhere. They fill up both sides of the cobblestone road which winds its way down the hill. So, of course, a truck cautiously carrying groceries along with several cars following quickly behind was headed down when the old man was headed up.
The truck swerved to keep from hitting the Mercedes and ran into the awning and three tables at a small cafe. The people sitting at the tables saw what was coming and had the correctness of mind to get the hell up and out of the way, while the little old gray haired man was being told what to do by his woman who was wearing sky blue stretch pants and standing outside the Mercedes directing him UP the hill! I have since learned that they were from Florida. Agitated Italian men stood on the sidelines yelling “Ow” as if they were in pain.
The owner of the cafe, his wife, his customers where in the street yelling at the old couple and trying to get them to turn around. The couple seemingly did not want to listen and continued up the hill until the carboneri (police) pulled up. The old lady began telling them her side of the story which I could not hear from my window. The old man blocked traffic, got out of the car, approached the carboneri who threw up his hands as if in prayer, made the sign of the cross and gestured in a scooting motion the old man back to his car. For the next twenty minutes on this very narrow hill they tried to get his car, him and his woman turned in the right direction on the hill. Finally, in utter desperation the carboneri strongly suggested to the man that he get out of the car and let the policeman drive the car to the bottom of the hill. After all was said and done and the couple very slowly made their way to wherever they were going people began to survey the damage done to the chairs and tables at the little cafe. There was very little damage, things were overturned and the awning was slightly ripped there were no injuries and I have no idea who will pay for the damages. But, the people were laughing and shouting so wildly the words ”Stupida, Loco and Instabile Americana ” that I have made the decision to stay in this evening.
THE LAST TEN DAYS OF CELEBRATION WENT LIKE THIS…..
My friend Brenda Belsito whose husband Al is Italian came alone to spend time in Bellagio. When I opened the door to greet her there she stood all five foot three and a quarter, arms opened wide, great smile with enough Joy in her heart for five more birthdays.
After she settled in, unlike, most of my guests Brenda does not suffer jet-lag, off we went to find something to eat and drink. She is like the kodak bunny…moving, moving, moving. Her curiousity is spell-binding and it is this inquisitive nature that gave me the most interesting moments. Wherever we ate and drank it was her job to order the wine; a job she relished and did very well. Like my friend David, Brenda only likes the best. Whether we were at lunch or dinner she would ask for the Carte di Vino. Once the wine arrived she would taste and swirl and then I would taste and swirl. We tasted and swirled at least two to three bottles a day. We also drank a lot of acqua….(water) all that tasting and swirling makes you thirsty.
One day my friend, Piro, who owns a wine-tasting cellar gave us a ride to Milan. Brenda and I were in his shop tasting and swirling when he told us he would be leaving early one morning for Milan. He said if we were sitting at the cafe at 7:30 a.m. he would stop to pick us up; if we were not there he would keep going. Brenda and I were there. He drove to Como parked and we took the subway to the area called The Duomo to shop for several hours while Piro kept a doctors appointment. Brenda and I sat down in the Galleria area for cappuchino and brioche. Watching all of the people coming and going was like looking at art. Then we spotted her!
She was dressed in black wool from her head to her toes. Wool covered her face and mouth. Her feet were bound in thick black wool and she was bent over at a forty-five degree angle barely able to see anything except the ground on which she slowly walked while twitching and shaking. She held a cane in one hand and a small rectanguler plastic tray in the other. She held the tray out for money. When people put money in the tray she somehow managed to hold onto the cane take the money from the tray and put it into the pocket of her black wool jacket. The pockets were deep on both sides. I said “Oh my God Brenda, look at that poor creature…I have to give her something even if it is my last five euro.” Brenda said…”Hold up girlfriend….I don’t believe that is some old deformed, decrepit woman…I think that is a fourteen year old gypsey panhandling her ass off.!” We kept watching her creep back and forth slowly, fragile and despairing. Most people looked at her with sympathy and gave coins, especially younger women. Men just got out of her way. Some older women looked at her and laughed and one woman damn near tried to get on her knees to look up into the old woman’s covered face. Finally, the woman dressed in black sat down….we missed seeing her do this and decided to make sure we saw how she got up. Her back was straight and her legs were straight out in front of her. She laid her cane flat. She kept her head down. Brenda’s nature was to see how this old damn near dead woman could get up from a sitting position holding on to the cane and the tray. I decided that Brenda had a point and we stared at the woman for about fifteen minutes. Finally, the woman in black managed to go from a sitting positon on a flat floor no wall against her back for support to standing up at a forty-five degree angle once again. Both knees came up at the same time and she popped out of the position like a ballerina about to do an arabesque! Brenda said, “told ya…what do you think now…here you are looking all sad in the face for that woman who probably has more money than you.!” I was shocked…..needless to say, I did not give the old woman any of my money….I really wanted to knock her down, roll her over and pull the wool from around her face because she had certainly pulled it over my eyes.
We laughed, we shopped our way through several Milan stores and then met Piro at the train station for the trip back to Bellagio. While on the train we all watched for the Gypsey’s whose work includes picking pockets. I did not have to be concerned. I was with Brenda!
After Milan, we continued to shop, laugh, chit and chat. We ate, drank, walked up and down the winding paths and stairways of my Bellagio. Brenda’s favorite questions are “why, how, where, when and what is this made of?” She asked these questions of every shopkeeper we encountered and can probably tell you where the materials used for any of her purchases came from and how the thing was made and probably by whom in what year. Trust me, she did not buy a thing made in China!
On the fifth day of her visit we went to Firenze (Florence). We took the Ferry to Como. While waiting for the Ferry we met a delightful woman from Indiana named, Claudine who lives part time in Italy. She and friends where on their way to Milan. It is necessary to get off the peninsula by Ferry and then take bus or train to your next destination unless you have brought your car onto the Ferry. The morning boat is refreshing because you see both sides of the lake from a water view. It takes forty-five minutes to get to Como. Most of the ride was in silence….Brenda sat on oneside looking out of her window and I sat on the other. Periodically the silence was broken when commuters spoke. Just about three quarters of the way there a sound came from the back that neither one of us could ignore. It was a crying child being restrained by her father. The child’s cry sounded like it came straight out of the “Exorcist”….Brenda mimicked that cry every chance she got. “LEHHHHHTMEEEEGOOOOOOOOOOO”! “LEHHHHHHHHHTMEEEEEEEEEEEGOOOOOOOOO!”
Claudine suggested that we take the number four bus to to the train station. We were traveling first class on the Eurostar to Florence. Brenda and I had decided on a cab since we had luggage. Once we found the cab stand we were off to Como Station arriving at the same time as the bus with Claudine and her friends who paid about 25 cents to our ten euro!
FLORENCE….we arrived about 3p.m. in the afternoon. The Anglo American Hotel on Garibaldi is very nice! We asked directions and went to find a cafe for something to eat. We had come to Florence to meet my aunts, Ethel, Betty and Tina along with uncles Woody and Jasper. Jasper is married to Ethel and Woody to Betty. I thought it best that we make no plans until they arrived in Florence from Rome. I knew they would be arriving about the same time we did. Well, we ate, drank but did not swirl. The cafe only had house wine. Brenda and I decided to head back to the hotel and wait for a call from my aunts. As we came out of the cafe I noticed several Black people across the street waving and low and behold it was my family. They had a problem with the hotel they planned to stay in and were walking trying to find a cab that took five people instead of four when they spotted my hair along the skyline. The humidity styles my hair for those of you who do not know me. For the rest of you that is my excuse and I am sticking to it. Anyway, we hugged, kissed and I introduced Brenda to my family. They flew from D.C., MD and Detroit to hang out together in Rome and then to Florcence where it was decided I would join them. This was all the day before my birthday. That evening they were very tired and Brenda and I were not. So, we found a fantastic restaurant where we could eat, taste and swirl.
Getting to the fantastic restaurant was more than a notion. The front desk of our hotel said it was a short ten minute walk. It took us about thirty minutes because Brenda was carrying a map and wanted to follow it. It was more fun for her than to heed the directions from the guy at the desk who probably knew what he was talking about. It kept leading us in the wrong direction. Finally, we stumbled upon it . The people were great and we closed the joint. We walked back to the hotel in five or ten minutes. She did not look at the map again until the next day. We got lost several times before we realized it did not have all the streets listed that we needed. Brenda wanted to know why? I had know idea.
My family had booked a tour for the day so it was decided that we would meet for dinner. I chose a place called Harry’s Bar. We all had a great time. We toasted my birthday, Brenda ordered wine for me and her and we tasted and swirled while my family chit and chatted. They don’t drink. It was not a long evening for them. Once we said goodbye and they got in the cab…Brenda and I went back into Harry’s Bar for a Limoncello. They gave us two and then we walked back to our hotel. Made it back in ten minutes. No map.
The next morning we checked out of the hotel. Had them hold our luggage and we went off to find the shopping area near the Arno and the Uffici. It was terribly hot, but two women on a mission can do anything. We shopped, hot-footed it back to pick up our luggage from the hotel, had a taxi take us to the train station and off to Como we went to catch the Ferry to Bellagio. We missed the last ferry when we arrived in Como. We had to take the bus.
Brenda asked why, where, when, how come?…..I found a way to purchase bus tickets in the cafe/bar. We read the time table that said we would be waiting one hour. We stood with our luggage and waited patiently for the 30 Bus to Bellagio. It arrived about fifteen minutes late. He drove like a bat out hell. Brenda was speechless…..
The young driver honked, waved, made the sign of the cross, gave the finger, talked to friends on the bus all while manuevering the narrow, winding road up and down the mountain to Bellagio. Brenda barely spoke. Her mouth stayed at a funny angle most of the way… it was like she wanted to say something but nothing came out.
We were the only two people on the bus when it arrived in Bellagio a little after ten p.m. Brenda said….”I want to kiss the ground and I need a Goose!” As in Grey Goose the Vodka. There was no tasting and swirling that evening….we went straigth for the gusto and then went home. It was a blast!!!
Brenda left Bellagio today and I miss her. If she worked with me in my studio everything would run smoothly, efficiently and accurately. We all need a Brenda Belsito!
I will leave Bellagio on August 24th. Until that time I will be alone with my memories and my work. I will write when there is again something to say.
Ciao…a presto!
Gale
Post Category: Updates
1 comment July 31st, 2007 at 09:00pmGale Fulton Ross
Another day in Bellagio….
Today we are experiencing a heat wave. “caldo, tutto caldo!” Italy is having one of the hottest summers it has experienced in many years. It is a good thing I live in Florida because I can take it! My guests this week from South Carolina and New York are another story. Both admitted that it gets hot and humid where they live, but, of course like Florida there is airconditioning everywhere you go…not so in Bellagio. We survive by natures ac called a breeze. When there are no breezes you sweat. We are also use to a big ongoing swaying cooling breeze blowing in from the lake. We have winds called Mistral and they slam doors and break glass if you do not have your doors and windows shuttered properly.
At the moment the breeze is merely a puff of hot air and feels ever so slightly like someone is blowing their hot breath on you. My friends were wonderful and had a great time because the heat did not start until a couple of days ago. The first part of their stay was just as you would expect here in Church Square. Cool in the morning, beautiful in the afternoon, and cool in the evening. I did notice that when they were leaving I could barely untangle myself from hugs before the car was moving and they were yelling A.C .instead of Ciao! Sometimes it is hard to adjust to natures way. I don’t mind…at my age it is no different then a hot flash only instead of my body heating up from the inside…mother natures hot flash heats up everyone! I keep cool mentally by thinking cold thoughts.
For example; I think about being in a vault with the carcases of dead meat hanging on hooks around my head and I am sitting on a giant cube of ice that for some reason does not melt. I imagine myself so cold that I am shivering as I type this. I am so cold now I ache, my goose-pimbles look like hives they are so big and my face hurts from the ice cycles hanging off my brows, lashes and nose. My lips are chattering and I can barely breath.
How’s that for an imagination! If they taught imagination in school along with reading, writing and math my friends would have been able to join me in the ice vault instead of sweating half to death in the real world. The breeze will return long before my imagination runs out.
David and Jo Anne were lots of fun. David loves the best of everything and I certainly do not begrudge anyone that philosophy especially when they are willing to share. I ate in all of Bellagio’s best restaurants and had wine thay only experts call forth to their tables. David is a wine connoiseur and I am but a flegling wino. It makes for very fine dining and drinking. I kept the corks in case I need to sound wine savvy. I do not believe they left one day to soon….I must have gained ten pounds this week. Next week will be different. I am on my own again and that means back to the little mini-market for cheap wine, tasty cheese, a roll and some ham. I’m happy with the little things as well as the expensive things.
David drove Jo Anne and I to Basel, Switzerland. We stayed at the Hotel Euhler for two days and I was like a kid in a candy shop. Basel is all art and has one of the finest Art Fairs in the world. We have a copy of it in Miami that has also gotten world-wide acclaim. It is a young, bohemian, upbeat sort of place. Where culture oozes from everyones pores like sweat off a hot construction worker. That last comment might have been a result of mother-natures hot flash.
Anyway, they have three or four outrageously marvelous museums and many trendy galleries. Clothing looks artsy as well as elegant. If this was twenty years ago I would have tried to live and paint there for a moment in time. I pick up lots of literature and hopefully will get one of the gallery dealers to look at my work before I leave Europe.
Basel is only three hours from Bellagio and it borders both Germany and France. We also took a side trip to Alsace, France for lunch. We were doing all of this in a grey four door Mercedez Benz. But, guess what….we had car trouble!
The day David and Jo Anne arived in Bellagio they talked about a red warning light that kept coming on in Italian on the dash. One of the waiters at the cafe on the lake said that he would check it out because he drove a Mercedes. I’m in the wrong country and in the wrong business! Michelli took time between his two or three jobs and looked at the car. He said it was nothing and not to worry about it so we didn’t until driving to Basel.
We wanted to be in Switzerland close to lunchtime so we left Bellagio about 9a.m. We took the car onto the ferry to Carnobia and then had to find ss340 to the Autostrada #2. This was fine but we noticed on the “Oh Shit” road that the red-light was coming on more often and looking slightly more ominous. The “Oh Shit” road is that narrow winding road that tends to make you sick to your stomach when you are first on it and the one where the first time driver says “Oh Shit” everytime he comes upon a passing truck, bus, car or bicyclist. The drop off that mountain is thousands of feet. David must have said “Oh Shit” a couple of hundred times. I wasn’t afraid….whenever, I take that road I just give myself over to mother-nature and hope that she will recognize another flashing kindred spirit dripping sweat from her forehead.
Jo Anne’s job was to navigate from the front seat. I was buckled in the back. My job was to speak Italian and to translate if needed. Jo Anne is in the auto parts business and the light was giving her concern so we all thought it best to pull into a gas station after riding about an hour or so and let a mechanic look at the car. Sounds easy enough doesn’t it? The Mercedes afterall is like Europes’ mascot and should have its own flag.
Well, we pull into a gas station just over the line in some part of Switzerland. That part was fun because we went through two sets of Custom Agents. David would say, Passports and we would hand them over to him to pass through the window to the Agents. The first set waved us through…we were leaving Italy and the second set looked them over for a good five minutes before handing them back…he kept peeking at me in the back seat. We were entering Switzerland. When he handed them back and waved us through I thought to myself…I might need to cut this “afro” down; maybe I look like a runaway Taliban!I could see Sojourner Truth, Harriet Tubman and the underground railroad. See, now that’s imagination!
The red light is going on and off and I have my trust translator out trying to make some headway with the Italian words. I figured out we needed either to have an oil change or we needed to buy oil. The oil icon is universal but the words were a hoot. Once we pulled in for gas, David had to find the gas tank and open the door. Well there was nothing in the car showing a picture of the gas door. It took about fifteen minutes for David to just push on the gas door for it to open. Mercedes does things the easy way! With that in mind, Jo Anne who knows auto parts said;” pop the hood on this baby and let me take a look!” I was studying my translator for the words “oil stick”. After the three of us circled the elegant vehicle about twenty or thirty times, I said, in english, there is no”friggin” oil stick in this sucker!” David and Jo Anne agreed and pounced quickly on a man and his wife who pulled up to the next pump in a dreamy midnight blue two-seater Mercedes. They yelled at me and I mean yelled at me to talk to the man in Italian and ask him what was wrong with our little silver Benz. I went up to the man and asked “parle Englize” he said, Yes, I’m English. We had copied the Italian from the warning light off the dash. He looked at it and then at me and asked me what it said…he did not speak Italian. Of course, we were back to go, so we said thank you and decided to call Avis where David had originally rented the car. None of us thought to ask the English-speaking gentleman to get in and look at the light to see if it was something he recognized and could tell us if it was an important warning or notification of an impending check oil date.
David finds the number to Avis. We call it and a recording comes on in Italian. I recognized that the woman was saying “Service” and then like all of the rest of her countrymen she spoke in rapid-fire, no nonsense Italian giving out a phone number that went like this: zaroh,zaroh,quantra,cheenkwa,doppo,toto,tuti,tata! David and Jo Anne had me listen to that woman fifty times trying to get that number. Well, it never happened. I could not understand what the hell she was saying so I just tapped 0 (zero) a couple of times hoping to get a human being and I did. I asked the woman if she spoke English and she said “si, si, yes, a little”. I told her all about the flashing red light, etc. etc. and she said with a laugh in her voice, I am sorry but you have the bank. This is Credit Swiss, I can’t help you with your automobile..sorry and hung the hell up! My mouth fell open…David and Jo Anne are staring at me looking for answers and all I could say was we just called a Swiss Bank. Jo Anne was so flustered she decided to go inside the shopping area to find help. I sat down in the back seat of the car and started typing Avis into the Translator and David took a long drag on his one hundreth cigarette of the hour . Twenty minutes later here come Jo Anne with a woman from Canada who lives in the area and who did not speak a word of Italian, but who knew a mechanic in Fluhlein about ten minutes or so down the road. She said she would call him and she did. We went to Fluhlein and the mechanic and the rest of the gang had gone for lunch, so we decided to find a cafe and sit down. We did, they only spoke German. I took out my trusty translater and ordered three salami sandwiches and some water. No one was drinking and driving. The sandwiches came back open faced with butter smeared thickly on the bread that had crust so hard you could pull your teeth out. My two friends looked at me….I said I ordered mayonaise not butter. We ate them anyway….I took off the crust, Jo Anne scrapped off the butter and David ate the whole thing including the pickles, lettuce and tomato on the side of the plate. I also asked the waitress in German when would the Mercedes Dealership open again and she gave us directions to another one so we headed in that direction only to find it closed. We have now spent almost three hours trying to figure out what the red light meant on the dash board of the Mercedes Benz.
While finding a way out of the dealership parking lot we stumble upon a garage for older Mercedes. Not new only older models. They both look over the back seat and say, “go get em gale”….once again I jump out of the car ready to speak what ever language pops up.
I opened the door to the garage and said hello in three languages. I heard movement but I didn’t see anyone. It ocurred to me that he or she might be hiding since it was lunchtime in Fuhliein and I was an interruption, but I persevered. I was hot, tired and getting concerned that we were going to shoot a rod on the autostrada! Suddenly, “Hoss” the cowbow appeared! He was big and I mean tall big and losing his blonde hair as we spoke. He was also wiping food from his mouth and hands with a rag that he promptly tucked in his back pocket. I cautiously asked that man if he spoke English, French, Italian or German. He chose English/German. We were off and running. He also said he did not fix new models of Mercedes. I begged him to just look at the car and maybe he could at least tell us if we needed to be in emergency mode. All twelve feet of him bent as he came out the door towards the car. David and Jo Ann scattered…it looked like they ran from the car and stood off to the side in order to let me and “Hoss” through. “Hoss got in the car making groaning sounds….he was dressed in dark grey plastic looking overalls with a matching shirt. He had on dark boots and had really, really large blonde hands. He took the wheel and started playing with buttons on both sides. David and Jo Anne were rooted to their spots and I thought I saw her nod like I should come stand next to her in case “Hoss” blew something up. I was not afraid…I felt like beauty and the beast. I knew “Hoss” could never hurt me….he had calm, kind, baby blue eyes that twinkled several times in my direction. Like in the movie “Kong” when he was peering through the window of the Empire State Building. I stayed right by his side and asked questions like…”what are you doing?” He kept moving his head side to side like there might be something wrong and then he said in perfect english…”You are down two litres and your car is now speaking in English. Fifty francs please…I will pour the oil now, it is important.”
“Hoss” had been able to hit some button on that steering wheel that turned all of the Italian into English and the message was oil down two litres or two quarts. David paid the man who poured the oil and Jo Anne thought Avis should have told them that the car could speak more than one language and that they should be giving it gas and checking the oil before they let a person drive off the lot.
David is going to let Avis know about the four hour debacle and I still want a little Mercedes with side airbags. Hoss waved goodbye to me when we left. I was very moved.
Needless to say, we had dinner in Basel instead of lunch, but it was another grand adventure.
It is time now for my afternoon Siesta. Church Square has closed for the next two or three hours and so I shall say Ciao, a presto!
Gale
Post Category: Updates
Add comment July 19th, 2007 at 10:14pmGale Fulton Ross
Journey…
Luglio (July) is the month of my birth and I am celebrating it for all 31 days. Mio compleano es ventiotto. My birthday is the 28th and I will be sessanta….for those of you who need to know find an Italian dictionary. For those of you who do know how old I am…you also know that I earned every year and am proud of it!
This morning I got up early to go to the bakery. I needed my weekly fix of fresh bread. I only eat it twice a week…it is so good that I could eat it every day, but of course, my “arse” will not improve and this journey is about improvement. When I was going out the door I noticed there had been a note left and it was written in Italian. I made the assumption it was for me, but I was also a little confused as to why someone would leave a note under my door knowing that my Italiano is malve and that their handwriting was also malve. (bad). Brutto (ugly).
Anyway, I took the note over to my trusty computer and promptly went to my translation software but the letters and words in the note were hard to decipher so I decided to make up scenarios and put that into the computer in English then translate it to Italian and see if the Italian letters came close to what was on the note. Capisco? I typed in phrases like this: Signora, would you like to meet me this evening for a romantic cocktail? Translation came back “No” in a word. I wrote again:, Signora, are you available today for lunch at the loveliest of spots here on the grand peninsula?” Translation came back “No” in a word. Finally, I typed; “Signora, do you have plans for today and are in need of some company?” Translation was the same “No”.
Frustrated because I thought I kind of recognized some of the words I decided to take the message downstairs to the cafe and ask my friend, Emilio, to explain. He does not speak a lot of English and I do not speak a lot of Italian, but I greeted him with “Buon Giorno” and then I said sweetly, “Che Cosa? Chi”? Par favore! ”What is this? Who? Please! He read the note several times before he shot of some Italian in rapid fire anxiety that made my head spin in two languages one of which I speak very badly. My eyes crossed and I moved my head from side-to-side as if I was trying to hear instead of understand. He seemed to be looking at me the same way and then he shot off again in the fastest language known to man. This time I recognized the most important word. “Ines“. “Ah si, si I said; piacere, repetito. Yes, yes, please repeat! And off he went; this time I recognized the word “basso” as he pointed over his head. “Basso” means low or lower and then he folded the note calmly and put it in his pocket. It appears my mystery was solved….the note was from my downstair’s neighbor asking Ines to clean her apartment one day next week. Emilio, was going to call Ines and give her the message. We nodded to eachother in language agreement and I said; “Grazie, Emilio…Ciao, Buon Giorno! Out the door I went feeling like I had just managed a conversation in great Italian. What can I say? The little things mean a lot here in Italy.
Now that I am back in the apartamento I have consumed one of my biscutto’s with some ham and appricot marmelaid. Ah, heaven is here on earth!
I must stop here because today is a painting day. I am going to my little studio and do some work.
Ciao…a presto, Gale
Post Category: Updates
Add comment July 11th, 2007 at 06:16pmGale Fulton Ross
My Journey Continues…
It is now July (Luglio)…the month of my birth. For those of you who know me know that I will be celebrating for the whole month. It began when my friends, Janice and Waide arrived in Bellagio on July 2nd and departed on the 9th. We ate the most wonderful food. I especially like the spaghetti bolognese at Cafe Barchetta. We drank the regions best wines at Piro’s wine cellar and we laughed a lot. They, of course, shopped. I am being frugal for the next few weeks. That dollar euro thing keeps me very grounded. I did buy a piece of luggage. Last year I bought new luggage here in Bellagio, but they did not have the intermediary piece that I use for short trips. When I saw it in the window of the shop called Saraceno….I immediately and cautiously threw caution to the wind. It cost 135 euro….more than I intended to spend my second day in Italy but “cosi va la vita! (so goes life!)
Wade made me a gift of xm radio so that I can listen to any music I want through my laptop. What a marvel in technology it is. Currently I am listening to the classics and drinking my first glass of vino rosso of the day. The sun is shining and there is a cool breeze blowing through the long open windows. Did I mention that the window panes to the third set of doors belonging to each set of windows is stained glass. Glorious, just glorious when the sun comes through. I feel divinely wealthy….that means rich in spirit!
Yesterday I did laundry….Ines does it on the weekends, but I do not like to trouble her to do my personal things so I wash and hang them on the line upstairs and everything came out immaculately white. Whiter than white…something about the sunshine and bleach makes my white clothes deliciously bright. Today, I had a manicure and pedicure. I must say the woman who does my nails in Sarasota is better, however, the experience here in Italy is much more estethically pleasing. The cost is about the same give or take $10 in Italy’s favor! I won’t go again for about three weeks.
This afternoon I am going to work in the watercolor studio owned by my Italian friend, Agnes. I am working on a new palette of colors for my work in the Fall. This is the work that I will do in my studio in Sarasota and maybe in L.A.
My son is willing to finance three months for me in Los Angeles and I hope to experiment with what I feel I have learned here. The light is so awesome, yet, I cannot let go of the black that permeates my vision of future work. I will try to use the light with the black. Black is the color of my journey. Black is the color of my people. Black is where I find force. The work is vital. When I am not painting and even when I am enveloped in sheer joy….I am seeing…I am feeling and I am recording visually that which I will explore and expunge in my studio.
Now, I am going to leave you while I read my book, by Paul Coelho, titled “The Witch of Portobello”. I just may be that witch once again risen.
Gale, July 10, Bellagio, Italy
Post Category: Updates
Add comment July 9th, 2007 at 09:23pmGale Fulton Ross
Journey of Renewal
I arrived in Italy yesterday morning. I was very tired from my flight and four weeks in Boston with my family. Today, I feel less tired but still not quite ready to speak Italian. My apartment is glorious and since this is my third summer, I can refer to it as my home away from home.
Christian drove me from Milan to Bellagio. Bellagio is on Lake Como in the Pre Alps region on Lombardy. Christian is my driver when I am here. You would think I was rich, I’m not. He only picks me up from the airport and takes me back when it is time to leave. If I ask and am in a position to pay him, he will also take me wherever I want to go. Anyway, the drive is marvelous eventhough I get a little weak in the stomach once we roll up and down the serpentine roads leading to Bellagio. The ride takes ninety minutes. The vistas are extraordinarily breathtaking. Christian and I did not talk too much, he pointed out interesting landmarks and historical sites along the way, but since I have traveled this way many times I almost could follow him word for word.
It is bright and sunny here in the apartment. The windows go from the floor to the ceiling and look over rust-colored roof tops toward Lake Como and the Pre-Alps. The are the high mountains just before the Alps.l The tops are softly enveloped in fog; everything else is sharp in contract. Colorful ochres, blues, greens and various shades of red, orange and yellow jump from a floating pearlized grey haze. Voices rise from the cobble stones as the church bells toll time. I live in Church Square in a penthouse apartment that is housed in a building where one family has lived for over 100 years. This apartment was the home of a Law Professor and his socialite wife; currently, it is oowned by his son, Edgidio. Edgidio is also a professor. He is a professor of Italian. I am teaching him English words to help him with his English and also so that he can pass them on to his Italian Students.
Ines is my Italian mother and housekeeper. I see her once a week…she speaks no English and my Italian is weak, but we manage very well because of the translator that I carry with me on all of my visits to Europe. I picked it up from the Skymall catalogue on Delta. Handy little tool. She brought me flowers and gave me a welcome card written in English. We were both happy for her accomplishment. I write her from the states in Italian…I think she felt compelled to “follow suit”.
Edgidio Del Boca brought me a wonderful chocalate cake. Italians make wonderful food….wonderful everything. I am in love with this culture. Its warmth is endearing. I am sitting and typing on my laptop knowing that friends will soon be coming to visit from all over the country. Tomorrow, Janice and Wade will come from Virginia to stay with me for one week. Next week David and his cousin will come from New York and then Brenda Belsito will come from Florida…after that I have guests from Boston and Atlanta. Regardless, I still manage to paint, laugh and enjoy each precious moment spent in this place.
Seeing is key to my profession. Getting in touch with what I want to do and how I should do it is getting harder as trends and directions change in the artworl. This is my journey of continuing renewal. I will write again soon. Please feel free to ask questions or tell me about your own personal journey.
Gale Fulton Ross June 31, 4p.m. Bellagio, Italy
Post Category: Updates
1 comment June 30th, 2007 at 10:50pmGale Fulton Ross