, , , ,

I moved last Friday.  I’m loving living in Centro Storico.

After five trips carrying STUFF from my last place and four trips to town for necessary items that I only thought of one at a time, I was somewhat ready for my first night.

BTW, I’m 120 steps from town (but those aren’t like real steps, are they?” says Ashley).  

And he’s right.  They are taller, have uneven scale, uneven surface and go on for what seems like miles.

But I am now in the heart of a neighborhood, (this is a view of my balcony)halfway between a Trattoria and a Pizzeria;

above a perpetually tended shrine.  (I spotted the lady watering the other day and offered to help, but no.)

My nemesis (the other Brit) says that I must be in an apartment designed for the Neapolitans*, It may be true.  My casa is basic.  But it does have beds, a couch, some dressers, a wardrobe and two TVs. They are side by side so I don’t know if the small one works but it was a good place to tape my family photo.  I know the large one works because my landlady was proud to tell me that there is a remote and that I can see the TV from my bed, which is placed in the corner of the living room.

Upstairs are 3 bedrooms that have at least 5 beds and a crib, plus another toilet.  I have checked the windows (one shutter was flapping in the wind) but the stairs are REALLY shallow and steep and the railing is wobbly.  Not a good place to go!

On the so-called ground floor (two flights up from the other stairs known as the street)

I have a kitchen equipped with dishes, silverware, and pots and pans.  It’s a hodgepodge but workable except for the lack of sharp knives.  Until market I used my tiny Swiss Army knife.  Thankfully the butcher cut my chicken into smaller pieces.

I have cooked some chicken and a medley of veggies including zucchini, so I am set up for a few days.  I found arugula in the market and the tomatoes are plentiful for salads.  The fruit is great so far.  I have had good pears, peaches and nectarines along with plentiful grapes.  All seems to be local or from Sicily. 

My balcony is wonderful. From there I have a view of the sea over ancient rooftops and  can survey my front door when the bell rings, watch the goings on in the neighborhood and string my clothes to dry on the pulley clotheslines.

I’m set!

I had some British visitors yesterday and I had to serve them coffee in tiny espresso cups since the only other possibilities were two gigantic mugs that are more appropriate for a big bowl of soup.

I use my bed for reading, writing and sleeping.  I brought my baby pillow with me but had to go buy some new pillows because I couldn’t face the ones offered.  The store had a special of 3 for 10 Euros and he wouldn’t split them up so I have plenty to prop me up.  I’m a bit scared of the comforter provided, also, and it’s too big to wash so I am sleeping with the sheets, my sleep sack, my pink blanket I got a packing class.  I found a small throw, hung it out to air, and keep it at the foot of the bed for cold nights.

My bathroom is my biggest challenge.  The sink is nice and there is a fine tub, but I’m not sure I’ll ever sit in it.  Maybe sit on it and spray myself with the flexible hose. (I haven’t figured out yet how to keep the water diverted to the hose so one hand is busy at all times.)   With a bidet and a place to wash my hair…who needs it.  (I’m not that close to anyone.)

That’s the way it is.


* The summer visitors from Naples who help the population quadruple here in August. To him the Neapolitans are synonymous with barbarians. No one wants to rent nice properties to them because they will ruin it.   Since I have only heard this from people who know him, I don’t know if it is a common feeling in town.  I haven’t figure out the Italian for, “Do you think Neapolitans are barbarians?”