Asolare, the Art of Doing Nothing

Dear Reader,

In my frantic race to complete the planning of my upcoming trip to Italy, Croatia, Greece and Tureky next week, I have failed in my duties to my blog and beg your forgiveness. My travel plans are now set, my itinerary and all practical tips completed, and rail passes, Vaporetto passes, tours and the Alilaguna Water bus tickets for Venice are all purchased and ready. Now I can begin to enjoy the anticipation of another European adventure.

Next week we fly to Milano, Italy to begin our next Italy visit. We will be re-visiting several places we liked last year including Bergamo, Bolzano and of course, Venice. There will be no time to return to Rome or further south on this particular trip but I know I'll be back again soon and always enjoy returning again and again to my favorite towns and cities and beaches. Italy is like an old familiar shoe that fits very well. The people are in perfect sinc with my sensibilities and all worries about such mundane things as finances, aging parents, politics, jobs, health problems, insomnia all just melt away by a wave of a magic wand. A vacation to Italy is not only spiritual it's medicinal. I just feel better when I'm there. The food is better and fresher. The wine is refreshing as water and the walking is rejuvinating.

John and I discovered many years ago on one of our first trips to Europe that it is important to take some time off while touring the great cities and sights and just smell the flowers. Rick Steves, a travel guru, recommends taking a vacation from your vacation and he's right. The very first time we took his advice our entire outlook of our vacation changed instantly, and we've been doing it every since then. I'm not sure now but I believe we were visiting Carcassonne, France for the first time and it's such a tiny old place that we saw all the sights in an hour. We had read that this is a great place for that vacation from your vacation and decided to spend the rest of our time just loitering around, drinking wine and looking at the views. It was fabulous. We found a wine bar that has a fenced in grass yard and a collie dog where we could sit at a picnic bench all day and try different local wines. John is still crazy over Fitou, a black wine. I liked them all. At night we walked outside the walled city through vineyards to see the illuminated city. It was beautiful.

Since that time we have truly practiced and perfected what we like to call "The Art of Doing Nothing" while traveling and in some respects it is the best part of every vacation we take. Once, enroute to Barcelona, we spent the night in the artist's colony of Collioure, France. It was sleepy and lovely with a sunny beach and a castle across the bay. A woman was racking wine at the winery right across from our pension's window so we visited her winery, bought a bottle of a dry crisp white and took it out onto the pier to drink it. We sat there and watched the sun set. It was great until a drunk German guy tried to bum a drink off of us. Go find your own art of doing nothing and don't intrude upon ours!

Siena is another city where the art of doing nothing seems to be the motto. Yes, it is a bustling city and has many activities and parades and the palio but it also has the most relaxing and spectacular piazza I've ever seen, Il Campo. On our first visit, we were staying in a lovely little pensione which consisted of three bedrooms above a tiny mom and pop osteria just around the corner from the Il Campo right behind the City Hall. It was a hot and dusty day and we had wandered about quite a bit looking at the wonderful buildings and the Duomo. John was tired and decided to take a nap but I wasn't about to lose that opportunity to savor and absorb the Il Campo late in the afternoon. So I bought a carafe of homemade wine from my landlord and borrowed a glass and made my way to the Il Campo. At that time of day the bricks were still quite warm and toasty but no longer hot to the touch. It was a perfect place to relax and people watch so I plopped down in a good spot and drank my wine reflecting on the day and the vacation so far. Staring at the famous "Torre Mangia" Tower which we had climbed that day made me realize how small we are. When we were atop the 27 story tower the people down below in the Il Campo were the size of ants. The design of the bricks in the piazza reminds me of a giant scallop shell narrowing towards the city hall and tower. People are always wandering about, children playing, eating gelato, teenagers making out, old couples holding hands and everyone just enjoying the sun and the bricks. It was the most relaxed I had felt in over a year.

Later after dinner, I took John back over to the Il Campo to sit and watch the moon which had risen over the top of the Torre Mangia. It was magical. The night sky looked dark vermillion and the city hall, tower and all buildings surrounding the piazza were illuminated. It was very easy that evening to understand why this was all built in thanks for the end of the plague. Perhaps if we built places like that now we could end wars?

I was in Paris alone once for 10 days and practiced my art of doing nothing every day. It was lovely. Having already seen most of the sights of the city more than once I was able to do whatever I pleased whenever I wished and the city opened up to me like a fresh flower. I strolled along the Seine River and sat in the Tuilleries Gardens watching the kids with their boats. I visited the Musee D'Osay numerous times and just stared at my favorite paintings for hours. I road around on the bateau mouches just for fun and to watch the locals sunbathing on the concrete banks of the river. One day I visited the Rodin Museum, my favorite, and took a nap on the lawn in the garden along with several other dozen people. It was most enjoyable being there amongst the great sculptures and flowers. Every day I would walk to the Luxembourg Gardens to read a book and drink and people watch. Then later wander into my favorite little bar for a kir and to use the computer to send emails to John. Dinner was always right around the corner. No worries about that. It was fabulous. I became a citizen during those ten days and enjoyed the experience immensely.

John and I have had many other experiences practicing our art of doing nothing. One of our favorites is to find an apartment or B&B with a rooftop terrace where we can spend hours looking over the rooftops and drinking wine, snacking on cheese or prosciutto or pate' in France. I can't think of a better way to unwind.

We Americans are way to wound up as it is. The art of doing nothing eludes us. We always have something we must do and are unable to find a balance. Yet when we are in Europe we do find that balance easily. If you stop and listen you'll find it too. One of my favorite lines from a movie came from Giovanni, a rather stereotypical womanizer in the movie "Only You" when he was making a move on an American he told her "You Americans live for work, you look forward to work. We work to live." That is so true. I work to live and live is what I do when traveling.

There have been so many times when there was just one more sight to see or one more town to visit but we chose instead to practice our art of doing nothing instead. It's easy once you try it. We just say we'll be back sometime and we'll see that town or sight the next time. But this time my feet hurt and there's a beautiful little bay right in our town of Vernazza on the Cinqueterre and our landlord makes homemade Vernazza di Cinqueterre wine so let's go buy some from him and take our shoes off and soak them in the freezing Mediterranean instead. That works for me.

Countless times the Art of Doing Nothing has come by surprise. We are tired and thirsty and wander into a bar somewhere. The drinks are cold and the crowd lively. The bartender is particularly amuzing and friendly. The dogs are also friendly and I miss my animals for a bit. Before we know it we are on our fourth drink, eating appetizers and chatting with five of our new best friends. Who needs to go see another cathedral anyway? It will still be there tomorrow or next year. This part of my vacation is vital and alive.

While preparing for my upcoming trip to Italy, I came across the phrase as a verb which I was unfamiliar with. I was studying the hilltown of Asolo, Italy, where we will be staying for the first time. Apparently back in the day, medieval days that is, it was quite the party town with lots of artists and actors and even the cardinal enjoyed the contstant festivities. A verb, Asolare, was coined there which means the Art of Doing Nothing! And to think John and I thought we invented it! We've just come under its spell.

So remember if you are planning a long extensive trip through Europe or anywhere, or even a short trip which is heavy on sights, remember Asolare, the Art of Doing Nothing. It will make the experience enchanting and unforgettable and make you want for more.

Arrivederla'