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Wednesday, October 2, 2013

AMALFI




     Had a dream last night about a trip we took to Amalfi and the tales we were told. Once upon a time Hercules, the celebrated son of Zeus fell in love—or was it lust—with a captivating sprite named Amalfi. When she died, the despairing Hercules buried her on one of the most pleasing coasts on earth and named it after his dearest love. The Amalfi Coast has and does enthrall artists, writers, composers, crowned heads, buccaneers, mercenaries, farmers, movie stars, and travelers who drive along the Strada Statale 163.
     The Strada Statale known as the Nastro Azzurro—Blue Ribbon—road, is named for the milky color of its limestone and built with reverence for the natural turns of the Latteri Mountains. Built, between the 1840s and 1850s, it is a 41-mile awe-inspiring, spine-tingling adventure along Amalfi’s sensuous coastline between Sorrento and Salerno, Italy.
     Our bus winds and spirals along the narrow road—presenting imposing vistas on all sides. Far above, chestnut, pine and walnut forests use the mountains as a setting for their verdant foliage. Accessible by steep ladder like steps, houses outfitted in the colors of sherbet—strawberry, vanilla, and lemon—hug the craggy rock formations that plunge to the Bays of Naples and Sorrento
     Imagination roams free on Amalfi—we hear about Grecian Sirens—bird women who lived on the islets of Sirenuse and beguiled sailors with their sweet song. The sailors wrecked their ships on rocks as they sought to reach the sirens. Ulysses had himself tied to the ship’s mast while his crew placed beeswax in their ears to avoid the temptations that would smash their vessel and take their lives. Thwarted, the sirens tried to leap on board the ship, plummeted into the sea and drowned. History converted the Greek myth to Italian, the sirens became mermaids then changed into three rocks but their promise of pleasure continues—the islets were bought first by the Russian dancer Leonide Massine and then by his balletic heir, Rudolph Nureyev.
     Wherever there is a tight space between the Moorish style houses that clasp the face of the rock, steps climb to another level in Positano—founded by Poseidon, the God of the Sea. A retreat for writers and artists—John Steinbeck lived here in 1953. The foundation of the town’s affluence have fish from the sea and water for making bread and—before  the industrial revolution—water for wool, iron and pasta mills.
     Part of Amalfi’s Maritime Republic in the 10th century, Positano’s ships carried spices, silks and wood to the east by the 16th and 17th centuries. Today, Positano, the first town to import bikinis is known for its fashion, Moda Positano. A dance festival, dedicated to Leonide Massine, is presented in summer and, in winter; the town’s traditional Prespio—a creche with a nativity scene—is much admired. The Prespio with stable, houses, shops and worshippers are all modeled on the town. The pebbled beach, Spaggia Grande, close to many fine restaurants, may be reached by a walkway from Piazza Flavio Gioia.  
     We stop at a roadside stand near Praiano, a fishing village that offers lemons, hot peppers, walnuts and figs reputed to be the finest on the coast. The town, colonized in the 6th century A.D., became a refuge for people seeking protection against the barbarians after the fall of the Roman Empire. From the town, cameras try to photograph the breathtaking seascape of blues and greens that change color in harmony with the water’s mood. Praiano is 2,000 steps above a small marina and steps are everywhere leading to bathing platforms by the sea. 
     Towers built from the 13th to 15th century and used for defense against the enemy fleets of Il Saracen—Muslim pirates—and Turkish invaders rise everywhere along the coast. One tower built at the beginning of the 19th century— was built in fear of the English. Sophia Loren’s villa is pointed out, off-white in color with terraces and a 500-year old tower.  Perhaps Sophia’s tower protects against the paparazzi.
     Of major importance is the Port of Amalfi, during the middle ages the principal town of the Ancient Maritime Republic—the other three towns were Pisa, Genoa and Venice. A commercial town, overlooking the Bay of Salerno, Amalfi, known for its shipbuilding, bustled with activity—spices, perfumes, silks and carpets. Amalfi ‘s Tabula Amalphitana—Maritime Laws—was believed to be the most accredited code of all maritime nations and may be viewed in the Civic Museum.
     Around the square are old dockyards, while overhead are winding alleys that lead to the main square, dominated by the Duomo, the Cattedrale di Sant’ Andrea. The height and sweep of the Cathedral’s magnificent stairs, its Moorish features, black and white facade and Byzantine mosaic work, bronze doors made in Constantinople in the 10th century and its representations of the 12 apostles are both magnificent and imposing. The church is said to have the bones of St. Andrea—Amalfi’s protector of seamen—and the Saint is honored with a feast on June 27 celebrating the defeat of Barbarossa, known as Redbeard, the Admiral of the Turkish fleet, in 1544. Men clothed in white carry a silver-gilt statue of the Saint to the water and fishermen convey the statue back up the 62 steps to the cathedral. The Saint is thanked by the fishermen who decorate the statue’s left wrist with wooden and gilt amulets. Amalfi also has welcomed composers and authors; the Luna Hotel, in the past a convent, welcomed both Wagner and Ibsen who, in the 18th century, wrote “A Doll’s House,” during his stay.
     Scala is a town said to have been founded by survivors of a shipwreck. As we drive, chestnut trees impress with a rich display of black nuts—Scala holds a Festival of the Chestnuts every year and is known as the Town of the Churches, with one hundred serving the devout. 
     From Scala, we look across a deep, narrow valley called the Valley of the Dragon, and see our next stop—the town of Ravello. Known for its textile industry in the 13th century, Ravello is recognized as both The City of Music—music is heard in Ravello throughout the year—and The Town of the Villas –one belonged to Gore Vidal.  Two of the villas are world famous, the Villa Cimbrone, a Gothic castle where Greta Garbo once tarried and the Villa Rufalo which hosted D.H. Lawrence, Wagner, Grieg and Adrian IV, the first English Pope. The Villa Rufalo is mentioned in Giovanni  Boccaccio’s Decameron.  The Cimbrone is surrounded by rose gardens that lead to a stone parapet known as The Terrace of Infinity that overlooks the Bay of Salerno where the sapphire sky often melts into the ultramarine of the sea. The Villa Rufalo is a combination of Moorish and Mediterranean architecture with two towers, a Gothic arch that dates back to the 12th century, a cloister within and a garden where lavender grows and chamber music is played. The gardens inspired the magic garden in Wagner’s Parsifal.  Below Rufalo is the village of Minora where a Roman Villa was built one century before Christ’s birth.
     The Amalfi Coast with its legends, history, and promise of pleasure is as enchanting to mortals as the nymph Hercules loved and the tantalizing sirens sailors died for. A place where romantics, teller of tales and those dreaming of adventure continue a love affair with one of Italy’s most romantic treasures.
Bests,

Elise


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Thursday, September 19, 2013

That Ah Hah Moment


Courtesy of Wikipedia Commons

     You’ve finished several drafts, gone back to the beginning, determined whether the plot makes sense, learned about your characters backgrounds and kept them near you throughout the day, checked the time line, sentence structure and spelling, and yes—it all makes sense. But...something is off, you know you’ve missed a vital element somewhere in your story—what do you do now?
     Think about the new narrative before you go to sleep? I’ve woken up and there it is—everything falls into place. Decide to cook something you’ve never cooked before? Sure. Why not? It can take your mind off your trouble for awhile and then you can begin again. If the answer comes when you’re cooking and you forget to put in several ingredients, you can always call for a pizza. Exercise? Ride a bike, touch your toes, take a hike, or run around the block? You trip on an uneven bit of pavement and the answer to the problem with your story pops into your mind as you lay sprawled on the sidewalk—who cares about the few scrapes and bruises? Band-Aids and antiseptic and you’re back to the computer. The dog wants to walk—a perfect time to think. While he takes the time to “smell the roses,” you realize the answer is obvious. “Sorry, pup, we’re going home, I’ll make it up to you later.”
     Have you found solutions to a writing dilemma in an unlikely setting?
Bests,
Elise
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Tuesday, September 3, 2013

CLASSICS

 
     Cartoon courtesy of Kenneth Austin Kowi

     On Saturdays, if I'm awake by 8:00 AM, I listen to Naomi Lewin's Classics for Kids. I began enjoying classics rather late in life and being just a kid at heart, I find the program an absolute delight. For example, I learned that the Beef Council uses Aaron Copland's Hoedown from the ballet Rodeo as its theme song. Many other favorite classical pieces have been used in commercials. From Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue to Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries--cereal, soup, cheese and flying have employed the classics to encourage us to enjoy and buy their products.

     Classics for Kids helps me begin the day with a smile.

Bests,

Elise
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Wednesday, August 28, 2013

CURIOSITY

     We've all heard about the curious cat and noticed one of our own investigating something only she can see--all she needs is a deerstalker cap perched on her head to be a feline version of Sherlock Holmes. And what about our loyal companion--the dog? His nose examines every scent--no clue or tasty morsel escapes him. When on a tour of Kangaroo Island in Australia, a charming resident let me pat his sandy head while he checked my pockets for an interesting bit of chocolate. In Albuquerque, New Mexico, on a visit to the zoo, I engaged in a conversation--pantomime, of course, with an ape. A docent told me the ape loved to see the contents of a purse. I held up my cosmetics, a notepad, a pen--all the things that multiply in our bags and we both became thoroughly absorbed until we finally noticed a crowd had gathered and were observing the two of us.
        We begin in childhood when everything we see, hear, touch. smell and taste is an endless source of fascination. As we age, most people lose a good portion of their curiosity. I believe that writers keep their ability to relate to the world--the who, what, where, when and why of life and bring that to the page.

Bests,

Elise
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Friday, August 23, 2013

HEROES, VILLAINS AND VICTIMS

   
     Why do some professions lend themselves to fictional heroes?
Others are thought to harbor villains. Several give us an easy or sympathetic victim. Royalty is chock full of victims and villains--Shakespeare's live on. Politicians? Many more villains than heroes. Perhaps we'd better stay away from politicians unless we intend writing a detective novel that features the Father of our Country.
     Most of John Gresham's lawyers are role models and professors can be exciting and even sexy--think of Harrison Ford chasing after the Holy Grail. But stay away from Colin Dexter's Oxford and a few of the professors who teach there. Those intellectuals keep Inspectors Morse and Lewis busy solving their crimes.
     There is the crusading newspaper reporter--our hero and his opposite--the gossip columnist who wrecks havoc with lives and careers. And what about doctors? In real life and most television shows we are filled with admiration and usually follow everything prescribed but in fiction? A doctor often falls off the pedestal he or she is placed on. And victims--Susan Isaacs in Compromising Positions used Dr. Fleckstine, a dentist, as a victim. Lawence Olivier as Dr. Christain Szell--a dentist, Nazi and former SS Officer made a splendid villain. I'm sure many movie patrons lived with hours of pain before keeping their dental appointments. I've never read about a fictional dentist as hero--fellow writers the character is all yours.

Bests,

Elise
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Wednesday, August 14, 2013

IRELAND

     Grew up in Inwood in NYC where Manhattan was bought from the Indians who thought they were just sharing. The neighborhood was mixed--descendants of immigrants from Russia, Germany, Greece and Ireland and I decided that someday I would visit the places where my friends grandparents had once lived. In 2005, my husband and I took a trip to Ireland.
     The town of Ennis--the home base for the tour,  grew around the friary in the heart of County Claire. The 13th century friary has many sculptures and there's a walk along a sculpture trail. From Ennis we went west to the lofty, 650-foot-high Cliffs of Moher--the highest in Europe and a nesting site for thousands of seabirds. Below  the billowing ocean presents a spectacular picture. A walk along the coast introduces us to a limestone landscape called the Burren with white, deeply crevassed limestone that's hospitable to semi-tropical and arctic vegetation growing in close proximity .
     No visit to Ireland is complete without a stop at Blarney with its famous castle. One hundred and twenty seven steps up a tower is the Blarney Stone. Legend tells us that anyone who manages to lean backward and kiss the stone will receive the gift of Blarney--a smooth, endearing way with words. Almost impossible to resist is a shopping trip to the Blarney Woolen Mills--I've used my sweater whenever the cold hits our city.
     Cobb is on our agenda--the port where many an Irish immigrant looking to make a new home in the new world embarked in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. It was also the last port of call for the Titanic and the Lusitania.
     Travel along the coast of the Iveragh Peninsula is a visual adventure combining oceans, coasts, mountains and the ever changing weather and light with a long pause in Kells to see Ireland's Border Collies working at a sheep farm.

                                                SHEEP TO THE LEFT
                                                SHEEP TO THE RIGHT
                                                WHEREVER WE LOOK
                                                 THERE'S A SHEEP IN SIGHT
       One of our last stops is Tralee and the Kerry County Museum--a living history museum that explores life from 7,000-years ago, the Mesolithic hunters and fishermen, and later settler including Celts and early Christians. We end our journey in Dublin. We walk along the same streets as Joyce and Yeats, see the Book of Kells and take in a show at the Abbey Theatre. Of course, no trip is complete without a walk along the River Liffey.

Do you enjoy travel?

Elise

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Wednesday, August 7, 2013

IMAGES AND IMPRESSIONS



     A young woman—overflowing with enthusiasm—addressed our tour group. We were invited to a wine tasting in Tuscany. We trouped down the cellar stairs, were gifted with silver-colored wine tasters and listened trying to absorb her lessons about how the grapes were grown, how to taste and how to choose the appropriate wine for each meal and each course.
     We learned how to sniff the wine, roll a sip around our mouth and decide if it was to our personal taste.
     Our first sip and the “teacher,” looked at us and asked for our opinions. Quiet reigned.
     “Nice,” I said.
     “Nice!” I received a glare in return for breaking the silence.
     “This wine,” she said, “This wine is rich with the fragrance of the earth. Sunlight has added a warm glow.
     When we write our stories many writers paint an image of time and place, the background and the actions that affect our heroes and villains. We think and may place upon page previous happenings that may cause a specific or sometimes unexpected reaction in the tale we tell.
     Other writers keep description to the bare minimum and pare the words and sentences until the story is lean and spare.
     I imagine the writers we tend to read and admire have influenced our own choices when we sit down at the keyboard.
     Are you lean and spare or do you paint your picture? Who has been an influence in your life?
Bests,
Elise
      
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