Tags: Published On: Tuesday, August 31st, 2021 Comments: 7
When I was a young teenager, I was infatuated with an Italian movie from the 1980s, Sapore di Mare (Time for Loving).
Written by Carlo Vanzina, and set in 1964, is the story of a brother and a sister from Naples who, with their family, vacation in Forte dei Marmi, in Versilia, along the Tuscan Riviera, for the first time.
During their stay, they make friends with richer families from Milan who had gone there for years, developing dynamics and romances that had evolved with time. Forte dei Marmi, to my childish and inexperienced eyes, became the place to be, if you were cool, rich, and fashionable.
I thought that being able to afford a summer vacation in Forte dei Marmi was the key to happiness. I wasn’t beautiful (according to what I thought beautiful meant when I was 13), I did not have a boyfriend, and I wasn’t wealthy.
This summer, on the way back from a wonderful stay in Umbria, where we visited Perugia and Assisi, we stopped in Florence for two days, then spent a week in Forte dei Marmi, the land of La Capannina di Franceschi, the historical club that, since the 1930s, has been a symbol of the elegant town. During its golden days, in the 1960s and 1970s, intellectuals like Montale, Ungaretti and Primo Levi hang out there, Édith Piaf performed on its famous stage, as well as Ray Charles, Patti Pravo, Fred Bongusto.
***
At first, when I began to think about this month’s newsletter, I thought I wanted to write about how uncomfortable I felt since our arrival in Forte dei Marmi, about not feeling the vibe as I thought I would, about not feeling like “in the movie”, about not fitting in, despite wearing my Chanel purse and espadrilles.
When we arrived in town, on August 9th, Catherine got very sick. With high fever and vomiting (thankfully, it wasn’t Covid), she was put on antibiotics on her first day, so she could not be in the sun for most part of our stay.
From the outside, it looked like we had it all: we had rented a sumptuous and expensive lounge tent near the water, the weather was perfect, and the coconut man sold the freshest fruit. We had the best food, cold drinks in fashionable ice-bags, eco-friendly and elegantly fragranced sun lotion, good reads, warm and calm water, a salted pool… the sky seemed to be the limit.
But Ben and I, like Catherine, were miserable.
Far away from home for now almost two months, we were constantly together, we missed our friends, we had no life of our own, and we imploded.
We were tired. We were angry. We hurt. We constantly fought.
I thought that this story would be the newsletter.
***
But on the 13th of August, the day that marked 9 years without drugs and alcohol for me, I exchanged morning talks, over breakfast, with a French couple that I thought was judging us since the first dinner at the hotel’s restaurant. We were staying at the Augustus Hotel.
They were incredibly nice and pleasant to talk to.
I had judged them.
I didn’t know anything about their life. I just knew they were French, that she was beautiful and impeccably dressed all the time, and that they had a pug that reminded me of my late one, Giulio.
Afraid of judgment, I had judged as a defense mechanism.
All of a sudden, two days before our departure, people seemed different.
Were they?
Or was it me?
“My grandson is arriving today from London,”
the French man said to me the day we were leaving.
“He can play with Catherine, they are the same age!”
I felt profound sadness for the lost chances. Had I focused less on her Hermès sandals, I would, perhaps, have made a new friend.
I don’t even know their names.
***
On the 15th of August, we left Tuscany, headed north, and spent a week in Pilaz, in Valle d’Aosta.
You will learn more about this place when you read the book, but you may already know that it’s the small village in the Ayas Valley, in the Italian Alps, where I spent all my summer (and often winter) vacations from the age of 6 months until 2002, the year after my grandmother died.
The first few days there, my brother and my parents joined us. We had rented a beautiful mountain chalet just above the town bakery, a few feet from where I had grown up.
Walking in the pinewoods of Barmasc and Champoluc picking mushrooms, raspberries and blueberries with my mother and my brother, like we used to do when we were little, was a magical experience.
We reminisced the old days with my grandparents and felt their presence.
We dipped our toes in the ice-cold water of the mountain rivers, ate polenta with cheese, and looked at the sky at night, as the weather turned quickly from summer to autumn.
I talked to the cows, and one came close to me and licked my hand.
Days passed; there were moments of beauty and moments of pain. There were moments of laughter and moments of tears.
As we walked and walked, we realized we had been away from home for two months by then, and that, perhaps, we were ready to return to Los Angeles.
On Instagram I asked you a questions:
“Is there only so much we can take in at a time?”
I knew the answer. And you guys knew it too.
How much Florence, Italian sea, Assisi, art, pizza, gelato, churches and farinata can I take in? How much family, parents, friends, obligations, dinners, visits, conversations, pauses and actions can we take in at a time?
With all the love in the world, I knew the answer.
During this Italian vacation that is about to come to an end (this, in fact, is the last newsletter from here) I have learned a lot about myself, about my family, about my roots.
During this Italian vacation I shed all the guilt I carried for my difficulty dealing with intimacy. I saw where it came from, and I discovered the enormous power I have, to change the patterns once and for all. I have the power to shift the dynamics that, perhaps useful to my family in the past, do not belong to mine.
I am growing up, you guys.
A few more updates:
– There were moments, in these 10 weeks, when I fell into a deep depression and wanted to die. I also wanted a divorce. I wanted to disappear. But now, having seen the entire picture, I would not change a single event of this journey. The exact way this summer has gone was the only way forward.
– I watched part of Sapore di Mare while writing this blog, and I didn’t like it at all. I think that what I used to find charming about it, more than the idea of summer romance, was the concept of change, of growing up, the bittersweet taste of the salted water;
– I revealed the book cover on Instagram;
– I booked my first Botox. My migraines have been really debilitating, and I am finally giving it a try;
– We spent two nights at the Four Seasons in Florence for an early celebration of Ben’s birthday and it was magical;
– Two cool articles about me and the show came out over the weekend. You can read them here:
2) https://la-story.com/2021/08/l-a-chef-author-alice-carbone-tench-to-stream-cooking-shows/
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As always, so beautifully written, Alice. You may be tired of your Italian vacation but I am not (especially since I have not been able to travel this summer!) I am glad you are getting botox, I have heard that it really works for migraines. I get it myself every 4 months because otherwise I seem to frown all the time and look angry! And I do find that I get fewer non-migraine headaches since I started using it. I am glad that you could have this stretch of time to visit so many beautiful places with your family and have Catherine spend so much time with her grandparents. I loved the time I had with mine when I was her age (and even younger) and I still miss my grandma so much. (I am 60 so she died a while ago but sometimes when I cannot sleep I picture the tiny home she had with my grandfather and walk through it in my mind, room by room, remembering every detail and even the way the house smelled.) By the way, I am a little obsessed with your parents kitchen, especially those cabinets. Be well and travel safe.
Alice this newsletter encapsulates so clearly what it means to travel as a family, to be away from home and your own routines and escape possibilities. It is honest! I have felt every one of the emotions and feelings you describe, and have felt the guilt and disappointment in those moments. But when you return home you will realize how valuable all those feelings were and if you face them dead on, and discuss them when and where possible, think about them, you will really have grown and benefited both as your own person but also as a couple and as a parent and daughter! You write beautifully!
Just lovely. Can’t wait for you to experience walking in your front door after being gone. Your words resonate.
Thank you, Alice. I’ve learned to not forget my past, but allow it to hold NO power or guilt over me. I have reached the point in my life where I truly live in the present and plan for the future. I allow those small past thoughts to enter my mind, but only as a tool to be aware; as a tool to push forward into the present with a renewed, positive outlook and outcome. Our past experiences have shaped our lives in many ways ~~ but each day we must mold those shapes into the life we vision for ourselves and our families. ~~peace~~
Oh Alice, thank you. That couldn’t have been an easy newsletter to write.
I’m not older than you, and also have a tendency to sink into depression at times. I find that all pain in life stems from failed expectation. I expected to get a good nights sleep last night. I expected my marriage would last. I expected that vacation i took Cabo to be relaxing and restore my soul. And similar to your stay at the coast, my trip to Cabo was anxiety inducing, cloistered, cold, and very very lonely. It was not what I had hoped for, and I have regret about my decision. It’s as if I was trying to force my expectations of what the experience would be, instead of just letting go. That attempt to try to create or re-create something you think you need and then have it disappoint you – that’s all about failed expectation. I find more and more that the things in life that are spontaneous and unexpected turn out to be the most satisfying and gratifying of all.
Fighting / painful times always make me think I’m out of synch with the universe and my path.
My focus is to try and just stay present. And feelings are ok – sit with them. Embrace them.
I know it’s the bittersweet end to your summer, but looking forward to seeing you in your own kitchen / life again. It’s time to come home.
Oh Alice, thank you. That couldn’t have been an easy newsletter to write.
I’m not older than you, and also have a tendency to sink into depression at times. I find that all pain in life stems from failed expectation. I expected to get a good nights sleep last night. I expected my marriage would last. I expected that vacation i took Cabo to be relaxing and restore my soul. And similar to your stay at the coast, my trip to Cabo was anxiety inducing, cloistered, cold, and very very lonely. It was not what I had hoped for, and I have regret about my decision. It’s as if I was trying to force my expectations of what the experience would be, instead of just letting go. That attempt to try to create or re-create something you think you need and then have it disappoint you – that’s all about failed expectation. I find more and more that the things in life that are spontaneous and unexpected turn out to be the most satisfying and gratifying of all.
Fighting / painful times always make me think I’m out of synch with the universe and my path.
My focus is to try and just stay present. And feelings are ok – sit with them. Embrace them.
I know it’s the bittersweet end to your summer, but looking forward to seeing you in your own kitchen / life again. It’s time to come home.
FINALLY reading this newsletter!
It sounds like you discovered a lot about yourself this summer. Awesome!
It’s been a really difficult summer for me to.
I want you to know how much I love your weekly show. So real. (Screaming child included ha!) Don’t ever let anyone get you down. You’re a lot younger than I am but age is just a number…and you TRULY are an inspiration to me.
I’m so excited to get your cookbook. And SO happy for you to get it published!
Love,
Veronica