The Transition

During my last 48 hours in Italy, I went from rags to riches as far as accomodation was concerned. My flight from Sicily arrived in Rome at 8pm so I was forced to stay there overnight, travelling on to Siena and then Pisa for my flight back to England the next day. Naively I had chosen the cheapest hostel I could find in close proximity to Termini train station, a mistake. I was a little too warmly welcomed into a grotty reception room by a man who seemed to think I was interested in paying for my room by other means. Having firmly established that I wasn't going to do so, I only felt slightly reassured to see other smiling twenty-somethings hanging around as I was shown to my room. Under the circumstances I would have preferred a dorm room, however I had to have a single seeing as I would unsociably be rising at five a.m the next day to catch the bus to Siena. The room itself smelt rotten and was full of mosquitos. I didn't want to be in there let alone sleep there. Luckily, a knock came at the door and it was a Dutch girl inviting me to spend the evening with her and a group of friends she had made whilst travelling in Italy. She swiftly introduced me to almost everyone else staying in the hostel, lent me some midge repellent and off we went for the Fontana di Trevi. There we shared a bottle of cheap white with two slovenian friends of hers whilst people-watching and sharing the similarities and differences between our lives and languages. As the evening deepened, the fountain was cleared for cleaning and we moved on to the Spanish Steps, mirthfully watching shiny great Mercs glide past Dolce & Gabbana. Two a.m stole up and we trudged back to our rooms, where I still couldn't sleep despite my tiredness.

Two and a half hours later I woke to the two alarms I had set, and crept out of the building to odd looks from the bin men. A taxi to the bus station and an awkward wait amongst the other lone early risers followed, I was asleep on my sore old feet but at least I had spent my last night of the year in Rome at two of it's most iconic places to sit and ponder. 

I slept for most of the journey, waking only for hazy glimpses of sunflowers and arriving back to my house for half past nine.

After a tearful day of stress, Violetta and Linda helped me lug my heavy cases down to the street but even so I managed to be late for the train and had to hurl myself and my bags down the platform at top speed, begging a family to help me lift them onto the train as stuff fell out of my handbag left, right and centre. I resigned myself to sitting on my suitcase by the doorway at all times as I couldn't move them any further, unfortunately these parts of the carriages were not air conditioned. 

So after three changes, it is fair to say that I arrived at Pisa Aeroporto looking slightly dishevelled and I didn't exactly fit in when I showed up at the VIP Lounge, my mother having treated me to a business class flight home courtesy of  an avios freebie. Still, the trick is to look as if you don't care, so I toddled over to the bar and made myself a Bellini, sat back and relaxed, finally.

The 'plane-food' was agreeable enough; a very British tray of beef stew, a selection of cheeses with quince jelly and some chocolate truffles served with an even more British amount of politeness. I slept soundly for the remainder of the flight, waking only for the captain's announcement that we had landed. However smoothly we had done so though, it always going to be a jolt for me mentally.

Having arrived, I set to comforting myself with the things that, strangely, I had missed from home during my year abroad. I drowned myself in golden syrup covered porridge, dripping lardy cake and honey - covered soda bread. The most quintessential thing ever was the afternoon tea we had with a friend, of clotted cream on home-made scones (from Mary Berry's 'Baking Bible') and strawberry jam, swapping stories of our european adventures over a pot of tea. The old french house was apparently coming along nicely and she had adopted a lost stone-marten kit for a short time.

I noticed the things I had previously taken for granted that one just doesn't see anywhere else. The rounded trees and hedges of our fields were in such contrast with the striking  cypresses that had shaped the tuscan landscapes. The un-embellished bones of English history such as Maiden castle, Hambledon Hill and Stonehenge were once again new to my eyes and our livestock brought fresh fascination as they peacefully grazed in the mist each morning.

While the sun has been out though, and we've had birthdays to celebrate, we've lived in the most mediterranean way that we can find time for. Granny has grown lots of zucchini whose flowers are my favourite antipasto of late, and we're holding out hopes for the cavolo nero she planted too, which is almost recovering from it's earlier caterpillar attack. Lunch in the garden is much encouraged by the cat  who adores it when we are outside, where Mum prepares lots of Italian specialities that she brought back from her last trip to Siena. For my birthday lunch we eat prosciutto and pecorino from the man in the funny hat at the Sienese market, bringing back fond memories, and we imitate as much else as we can with mozzarella, olives and basil bought here at home.

For my Mum's birthday dinner, I go to two brilliant books for inspiration.
Local Italian Anna del Conte's book on the 'Classic Food of Northern Italy' teaches me a failsafe summer dessert of nectarines stuffed with amaretti biscuits and baked. Then 'Polpo' gives me an amazing recipe for beet cured salmon on focaccia,  another for Campari cake with vanilla ice cream (which we wash down with the first spritzes that I have ever made myself), and another for lamb chump chops with caponata.

But here is one of my own everyday recipes, easily thrown together (especially if you happen to have a glut of these things in your garden) and instantly Italian, it can be eaten alone or tossed into pasta:

Pan-fried Zucchini with tomatoes and mint (for one)

2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
2 shallots/1 onion
1 courgette
a handful of cherry tomatoes
a handful of fresh mint
1 lemon/orange
salt and pepper to season


heat the olive oil in a frying pan and sweat the shallots over a medium heat. chop the courgettes into thin rounds while this is happening, and add them to the pan when the shallots are getting soft. When you find that the courgettes have swallowed up all of the oil and are sticking uncomfortably to the pan, add the juice of your lemon or orange and the halved tomatoes to remedy the situation and ensure nothing gets burnt. When the skins of the tomatoes are just beginning to wrinkle, take the pan off the heat and stir in your seasoning if needed and a handful of chopped mint which will wilt with the heat of the vegetables alone.