Where Angels Go, Trouble Follows: Italian Painting Tour and other wacky Tales from the boot!!!!!!

THIS IS BY, Sophia Salinger AKA Julia Salinger

Here's only some of what transpired....

As the Grateful Dead once sang..."Oh, What a long strange trip it's been." It had certainly been a long journey from Boston via New York to Rome and then Naples...It always starts with our new fangled and improved technology...we tried to print our e-tickets from the new passport scanner machine, but, as luck would have it, it was not to be...The Delta supervisor informed us that there were delays in New York due to the fog and thunderstorms and we would have to reroute our tickets...In his official Delta garb, he waved us to the ticket counter....We unfortunately got the wrong woman...the one who just started with the company, and told us there was no bad weather in New York...We would be just fine. "Are you sure", I asked in my sweetest voice your supervisor Glen told us there would be four hour delays..."It looks like you're clear" and handed us our tickets....bye, bye....

A ten mile trek across two terminals and five electronic conveyor belts later, we finally got to the counter only to hear about six hour delays in New York..."but we were just told everything was clear." "Can you fly us direct Boston to Rome?" "I can't help you now...please sit down and we'll call your name." After a quick glance at the faces on line I knew we had to take other measures...Cherie called our travel agent in Provincetown and told him our tales of woe...after much negotiating with a delta rep it looked like we were on the flight direct to Rome. You have to understand that now all our plans are askew...we are supposed to meet up with our group in Rome or Naples to then drive to our first destination...meanwhile our bags are already on a cart somewhere...they put out an all points bulletin to retrieve our luggage...8 miles back to baggage claim and we are sitting around thinking about what else could possibly go wrong and like manna from heaven our bags plop out of the luggage shoot...

I knew it all sounded too good to be true...A group of ten like-minded individuals sign up for the first international Castle Hill painting tour. What could be bad? Eleven glorious days of painting some of the most magnificent villas on the Amalfi Coast, savoring the fruits of the sea, taking a boat to Positano, and sketching in the olive groves. All of us, together, en masse indivisible by 10 different flights, 15 different opinions, 9 meat eaters and 2 vegetarians (more on this later). The tour of a lifetime. Right.

It is now only 9am. We have been up for five hours. Cherie and I are waiting for several hours to fly Boston/Rome...I, in the meantime, have bought every magazine know to man from "bird fancy" to "gourmet" to "American Gladiator." "What are we going to do?" Cherie asks. "We don't have much of a choice...you want to read "bird fancy?" Once the airport grille opened we were scarfing down chicken wings and guacamole and really wanted some sort of alcoholic beverage but we had to settle for iced tea...and it was way too early...

Finally, we are boarding...Hallelujah!!!! All snug in our seats...yes seats, the plane is half full and we are in heaven...well almost...up until the pilot announces we have door trouble...the door won't shut all the way...Boston we have a problem. At this point, I basically want to hang myself from the wing and we haven't even taken our first flight yet.

Now, it is time for the vino...like the relief of an epidural during childbirth...I don't care if we sit on the tarmac all day...I have my mini wine bottle, my peanuts, my toxic airplane blanket and styrofoam pillow...I’m set.

Fast forward...hours later...Roma...crazy airport...15 minutes to make our connection to Naples...It has now become the amazing race....we are rabid...running, panting, pushing over innocent bambini, and grandmothers with too many plastic bags, we get to the gate...we are greeted by the no nonsense Italian vogue airline employee...In her most felliniesque face she informs us our plane has left...."but we are here on time...we were delayed...there was a door issue, i can't breathe." "Yes, I know you are on time but i am sorry but the plane is leaving...you cannot get on the plane...you will have to go upstairs (10 more miles by foot) and get on the next flight to Naples." All of a sudden, my Italian school day memories come flooding back...when in Rome do as the Romans do or don't do...

Now it is in the morning on another day and I’m confused...While on route to the new gate we pass mecca...a bar filled with the most beautiful cheeses and fish and shellfish and vegetables and salads...this is no Korean market salad bar...we are now in Rome, and we are hungry and very thirsty and we missed our flight to Naples and we are going to sit at this bar for three fantastic hours and eat, drink and be merry. I am in an Italian food and wine trance... it's time to board...we are now in Naples...home of the thin crust pizza, Neapolitano song and crime...we get our baggage and find the exit and there like a mirage stands our Italian Adonis holding a sign that says "Castle Hill." We have truly arrived...

At 120 miles per hour, Michele our designated driver, is taking us to Pontone a small village above the town Ravello on the Amalfi Coast...It is sunny, hot and delicious and we realize we are no longer in Kansas. As he points out Vesuvius and other items of interest...our velocity is such that the human eye cannot absorb this information...I practice my Italian...listen to Michele and Cherie in the back seat...

Consider the lemon or the limone, as we say in Italian...In season, grande...a coat of canary yellow, succulent, earthen flesh cradled in a prehistoric skin...think of thousands of these golden pregnant beads shrouded in a black madonna's veil...this is the fantastic image which enveloped us as we made our serpentine way up the Amalfi coast to our first destination, Pontone. The black nets protect the fruit...Michele tells us, and in about a week all the nets will be lifted in time for the limone Festival...sounds good to me....the car gracefully wends its way up into the hills...we pass citrus groves, cascading waterfalls of flowers and sea vistas that would make Homer proud.

Cherie and I don't even know what day it is...at this point, we don't even know our names...we just want to shower off the airports, sleep..oh, and of course, eat...

We spot Gail Browne...our trip leader and painting instructor extraordinaire...for the next 11 days. She looks a bit perplexed....the room situation didn't quite work out to her specifications...we are in front of our apartment...Anna our apron clad hostess is so excited we have finally arrived and even more excited that I can speak in her native tongue...do we want espresso? you better believe it...

Her gardens are gorgeous, succulents, begonias, fava beans galore and yes, the lemons...we end up shelling beans at the table with Anna...she is our new pal...we love her and her most yummy espresso with a perfect peel of lemon...I have never seen a cleaner kitchen...the woman was born with a sponge.

It's time to meet the roommates and see our room...there are three of them in our apartment each with her own room...One is too cold, one is out painting and one has the grand suite and has already rearranged all the furniture...then there are the two of us...we stand in our room...yes, stand is the operative word here, because there isn't much more room for anything else...It is clear now, after travelling with someone for twenty some odd hours you either like them or you don't...Cherie and I liked each other and we just laughed at our tiny room with the beautiful view and rolled with the day. I was too excited to sleep or shower so we changed and went out to walk the town and photograph. Cherie took a photograph of every square inch of Pontone...I couldn't believe someone else was that into taking pictures...I had found my match.

8pm...dinnertime...we are going to one of the two restaurants in Pontone for dinner...we now meet our trip comrades...we are all stripes, ages, colors, we all love to paint and we all are very hungry...we realize ordering with 12 people is an impossible, mathematical, statistical nightmare...nothing a little wine can't fix...vino is the glue that binds us...Pizzas arrive bearing artichokes and funghi...salads of the freshest greens and grilled vegetables...we are all full, happy and ready for our next day....we walk back to our apartment...It is very dark...we already have forgotten how to work the outside light that illuminates our decent down hundreds of tiled steps to our bedroom...mission accomplished...a laughing attack ensues and we are asleep.... the next morning we convene in the piazza to be greeted by Raffaello, our resident cappuccino maker and dolce specialist...you want to be on Raffaello's good side of which there are many...It became clear that even though he was half my age a romance was brewing...so to speak… In the morning before cappuccino you quickly learn the personalities of your fellow travelers....we won't go into detail (that's for another website) but suffice it to say, that one's true colors emerge...the one who can't speak until she had slurped down 3 coffees, the one who just doesn't stop talking no matter what, and the one who has ingested so many cornettos that she will roll all the way down the hill to Ravello...and then wonder when we are having lunch!!!!!

We are on our way to the Villa Cimbrone this morning...after much discussion...2 vans, 2 drivers and many hand gestures later we have entered Ravello the quintessential amalfi coast town, the one with the famous postcard view of the two umbrella pines sheltering an emerald sea...this time of year (april) is a wonderful time to visit these magnificent gardens...wisteria is melting over statuary, poppies, dahlia's, carpets of pink and purple flowers are everywhere....succulents peek out from the wet rocks...we are truly in heaven...Gail gives a watercolor demo and workshop and we go off like wood nymphs with our brushes... once again it is time to eat...since I am the resident linguist...I carry a bit of weight (literally) and feel it is my duty to suggest a wonderful eating establishment which I frequented on my last trip to Ravello...It is Campo Cusino the domain of Signora Netta...Grand master of all things pasta and fresh...we embrace and it feels like no time has elapsed since my previous visit...steaming perfumed bowls of vegetable soup come marching out of the kitchen, followed by sea bass flash fried with mint, wild greens, pasta with funghi, crepes with ham and a bechamel sauce and pesto and clams and it never stops...until all wine is consumed and we make our way home...

Today is one of those stunning clear hot Italian days....the intoxicating lemon blossoms have embraced all the air and we are stoned...light shimmers on a crystalline sea...we are on our way to the boat to Positano. As we glide along with the sun...the turquoise water hides in grottos...we are all taking pictures and awaiting the town of Positano as it spills into the sea...

Positano is like a multi jeweled ring set into the cliffs....she wears every color imaginable...we have some time to explore on our own, comb the sand for ancient chards, grab a gelato and start to paint...me, I am on a mission to find my friend Gloria of many years ago...she is a local character so I am convinced I will spot her...as i walk down a curved street…I see a shock of gray hair and come upon Gloria...she remembers me and invites me to the table...Salvatore her friend and fisherman...Is having a rendezvous with a new lady friend and has marinated his freshly caught fish in olive oil, lemon and garlic...he offers us a plate...It is instant fish karma...It is the essence of fish... of the sea... of Salvatore...I am in love...I want Salvatore to feed me fish every day...wait...I’m getting ahead of myself...I’m in fish rapture... after soaking in the Mediterranean sun...drawing on my pad in ink and colors...I am one with the page...I am transported...I am Italian...I want to eat....again!

Oh no another group meal!!!! we are all one now, we are all Italian...we are tanning and burning and ordering and drinking beer and flirting and eating polipo my favorite thing in the world...octopus in oil and parsley and lemon and celery and pepperoncini...I never want to leave...I never want to take the last bite...I am swimming now...In the water...It is cold but the chill subsides...Cherie is taking a film (see film clip) i am running out of the water freezing...dancing...laughing...

We are in the boat going back to Amalfi...we are sun-soaked and tired and we go back to Pontone and have quiet time and walk and photograph and wallow in the greens of the village.... we go to the piazza for night time hang out...chat with the locals...have pizza at the other restaurant in Pontone...we go to bed...we hear furniture being moved my our room...we can't sleep...what is going on...we are mad...but more at another time... we are up...we stagger to the piazza for cappuccino...we imbibe...today we embark on a journey to Amalfi...to see the glorious cathedral, eat some lemon cloud confection to die for...buy pepperoncini on a string (no relation to soap on a rope), see the resident paper maker, see the very old sculptor in the park and eat once again, the most yummy meal of the trip so far...If you can believe it...Today we are accompanied by Bill Papaleo, painter and castle hill teacher...he lives in italy and he is our fantastic liaison to all things Italian and fun and scrumptious....Including himself...he has arranged this spectacular feast of pasta and seafood, a wild foraged green salad in all its crispness and bite on the tongue...some local white vino with a bit of effervescence and perfectly sautéed fish with luscious greens...then more cafe and a chocolate and whipped cream bauble that is melting in my mouth right now...we all go for a walk...look around and return for some rest... tonight is our festa...up at the villa...I have to reiterate the UP part....UP is five hundred million stone medieval steps of varying height and crumbliness...this is no paved highway...there is no elevator to the villa...we are trudging up but then i start to think about all the wine and food and dancing at the villa (see video clip) and i can't imagine coming down these steps at some god forsaken hour, half in the bag...we get to the villa we need oxygen...we hear Brazilian music...a group from Naples...a wonderful singer...we dance and play guitar and have a cake and knife dance and eat and drink and play the magnum of champagne.

now it is tomorrow and we are hung-over...I can't take one more medieval step...every bone in my body aches...I have tendons and muscles i didn't even know existed...I need rest...I need cappuccino...I need amore i am sad we are leaving...I have to say goodbye to Anna and Raffaello and all our other town friends...

It’s o.k. cause I’m coming back in October...I look forward to seeing them all again...In the darling town of Pontone... after many long goodbyes we pack into the vans and head out to Terravecchia our next destination for six days. Terravecchia is a medieval village of 51 inhabitants and is currently being restored by our friend Gregorio. Gregorios ancestors have lived in this town for hundreds of years and he is lovingly documenting the history of the town and rebuilding these magnificent dwellings. Terravecchia lies in the ancient olive groves and is surrounded by fertile farmland rich with volcanic soil.

by Sophia Salinger Loren

Cherie Mittenthal, Director of Castle Hill and yours truly Sophia Salinger Loren (artist, poet and board member) get ready to embark on a three week Italian adventure. Please note that names have been omitted to protect the somewhat innocent...If you want the real story call Cherie or myself and take us out for a drink and we will expound...
On our way, we stop at a tiny market filled with incredible goodies fresh mozzarella, olives, roasted peppers, wild strawberries and other delicacies we get to the town and start our picnics immediately. We are greeted by Gregorio and his childhood friend Franco who is the poet, chef and all around bon vivant in residence we all get situated and this time Cherie, myself and Catherine all share a palace of several rooms each equipped with four beds a kitchen, dining area and fireplace, two bathrooms and radiant heat we learn to love radiant heat especially in the cold mornings.

Some of us meander off and explore the town Cherie and I walk through the olive groves with the sensuous pink and green netting we come upon Constantine who is a close friend of Gregorio and a photographer he beats the bushes with his walking stick foraging for wild asparagus I try to tell him about Euell Gibbons but I have no luck.
Later that day, we all go to the one and only restaurant to have dinner Angelina our chef has issues there are no substitutions on her menu it is what it is. You don’t make waves with Angelina she thinks we want Americano/Italiano food but she doesn’t know the palettes she’s dealing with we do get a fairly good pasta e fagoli one night but we quickly see that breakfast is the only way to go with her.
We are on our way to Scala outside of Terravecchia higher in the hills in the fall, there is a wonderful chestnut festival Scalas architecture is more reminiscent of northern Italy than the south we perch ourselves on a wall and watch a very serious bocce game played by the octogenarians of scala. Like bowling, in the states, each man has his own bocce style it’s our afternoon entertainment.
In my mind, all days become one. There is the day of painting the lava cliffs in the olive groves a dry, warm day my ass on a hard rock falling asleep lizards scampering around me, fortunately no black snakes.

A luscious day to Paestum to paint the Greek ruins the rocks baking in the sun getting lost in the rubble photographing and finding a secret crypt where I daydream among the faded frescoes the Paestum museum with one of the most elegant collections of painted sarcophagi writing is a hollowed out stone seat. These moments will last with me forever.
We are in for an amazing surprise from Paestum we walk over to the water buffalo and organic farm where the make the fluffiest mozzarella on the planet this is water buffalo central and Cherie our animal lover to the max is in love. She proceeds to photograph every snout, horn and hair of these majestic creatures some of us check out the organic farm and all the artichokes sprouting in the fields we return to find Cherie rolling in the mud with the buffalo it wasn’t pretty at the farm, there is a caf that sells guess what??? A lunch of all the fresh cheeses, meats, olives, salad and perfectly charred hearty bread this is la dolce vita.

Its time to look through the kitschy souvenirs ancient fragments of ruins for only five dollars totally authentic, augustus erasers, erotic postcards and much more full stomachs full shopping bags we board the bus back to terravecchia.
That night we are dancing to Catherines Ipod all the music we danced to in the 70s and 80s..Its lots of fun we light a fire and run around our immense new house with the radiant heat. I compose a shrine in my room out of all my new knickknacks we color and drink beer.
For additional details email Sophia Salinger at bakedmashedfried@yahoo.com for an appointment

Hear about the groovy ceramic factory in Vietri Salivate about our pasta and clams Shop with us for pottery and trinkets.
Hear about our lost tour participant in a trance on a street corner of Salerno.
Check out the enormous cherubs.
The three gals who rock Pompeii
Franco really does speak Italian.
Shop for chocolate.
And many other fun things.
Like drawing in the medical botanical gardens of Salerno with the school kids How to shop in an Italian supermarket like an Italian and not an American read the labels!!!!!
But wait, there’s more, the largest olive in Naple Show to tie dye a tee-shirt with olive juice and other fun crafts.

I leave you now with the surreal images of our final festa true Fellini movie(see clip) I have been spending the day gathering natural elements for my festa headdress, a construction of artichokes, fava beans, ribbon, peppers and food labels, tonight is the big night, the final blowout
Gregorio and Franco are the festa masterminds, at about 5pm Italian time they are going food shopping meanwhile, the original festa location has been changed to another apartment next to our house, this at first causes quite a bit of commotion but isn’t that the Italian way?? So thinking the festa is still in our digs we host the pre-party, all our food from various travels with plenty of beer and wine, we are all now smashed and I haven’t even gotten my head gear in order. Olive branches are flying, bobbie pins breaking, fava beans spiltting, I’m not having a good hair day, my luck starts to change and before I know it I have a verdant still life balanced on my head.

The party hasn’t started it is 8pm, no sign of Gregorio or Franco, food bags piled up in the wild tiled kitchen, no trace of them anywhere, guests start to arrive. A vat of wine is brought out, the bacchanalia begins!!!!!
Cherie and I do a Madonna photoshoot in an abandoned bedroom with a wrought iron bed frame.
The wine has been flowing for an hour, no food in site, in the distance. The smell of sausages barbequing in our fireplace, I am ravenous. This is the best sausage I have ever eaten, perfect fat to meat ratio, the right snap, this is from someone who comes from a long line of sausage eaters. I have been transported to the fields and mountains of my ancestors. We have kerchiefs on and are pounding the grapes for the harvest.
Back at the festa.
It is now 11pm and Franco is totally ensconced in the kitchen. He dons a floral apron and silly chefs hat and he is smoking and drinking and stirring the pasta we are gorging ourselves with mozzarella balls and prosciutto pasta next with tuna sauce that Gregorios wife made earlier, please note that Gregorios wife does not attend this party, more meriiment, 1am, franco and I are in an Italian movie. I am now wearing an apron..my cleavage in full view, I have a cigarette dangling from my lip and I’m serving food, it is the 60s I’m Sophia he is Marcello, he is peeling grapes and I’m stirring the insides of our future cannolli’s, we are a match made in Italia.
The party has dwindles down to 7 of us, it is 3am, I don’t know where I am. I am reclining on a Italian wicker love seat, my feet in the air my vegetable headgear in tatters, a glass of vino in my hand, I see you through the green glass of a wine bottle you are melting no dripping Who am i????
We are dancing and singing and we have a birthday surprise for Phyliss, the guitars come out and tears are shed all out of pure joy for savoring all these wonderful moments together the 12 of us have put aside our quirks and embraced one another for 2 weeks(don’t get me wrong the quirks certainly added color)and now this is the culmination of many laughing attacks and hundreds of wine bottles and thousands of bright moments which will stay with us for many days and many new friendships to boot!!!!
Ciao,
Sophia

Sophia Salinger is a resident lover of life, artist, performer, hat maker, entertainer, gourmand extraordinaire just to name a few things. She can be reached at bakedmashedfried@yahoo.com or check out her website: www.bakedmashedfried.com

reprinted by permission of the artist Sophia