Arrivederci... dignità!

Cantina del Granduca's fantastic Tortino al cioccolato.

If you want to learn a language by the immersion method, as I am, the same rule applies as in learning to sing: Leave your dignity at the door and try.

My dignity is so accustomed to this now, it just stands at the door and waits for me. Here’s an example: My intention was to tell Matteo, the talented young chef at the Cantina del Granduca, how much I had enjoyed his slow-cooked meat (carne) dish. His face told me immediately that my attempt had back-fired. He searched his mind for the right English word to use in reply and finally, in desperation, said “In Italia, non mangiamo [we don’t eat] woof-woof.” He had heard me say cani, the word for dog.

What was so sweet, in retrospect, was how embarrassed Matteo looked when he came up with “woof-woof”, but I’m impressed. Whatever it takes. We have laughed a lot about it since.

I am halfway articulate in English, I promise. In Italian, however, I sometimes know after the fact that I’ve said “I did not listen his name” when I meant to say “hear” or “It is a handsome restaurant” when I wanted to say it was “very good”.

This experience continues to give me a much keener appreciation of the many people who have arrived in Australia – and other countries – without a word of the local language between them. Unlike me, they mostly didn't have the comfort of knowing they would be back home in three months; they had come to make a life, to swim or sink. They continue to arrive, as war or lack of employment opportunities force them from their own homes, which they love, and I hope they are treated kindly.

Here people are so kind they actually praise my efforts. I apologise for la tortura of having to listen to me. It always helps to get a laugh.

A beautiful inlaid wood music box, about 60 years old, I bought at the Sunday market. This type of work is an ancient tradition in Tuscany; one of the remaining masters, Mastro Santi, lives and works in Anghiari.

My farewell dinner tonight will be at the Granduca. Guests include my Italian teacher Elisa and her lovely student (of English) Barbara, my downstairs neighbour and (now) friend Giorgio, his and (now) my friend Vasco, and two friends from Oz, JD and Venita. Granduca waiter Samuele, who has worked in London and speaks English, will take care of us.

I can see it now. The English learners struggling to speak English, the Italian learners trying to speak Italian, all of us giving up at some point and speaking in our native tongues most of the time. A whirlwind of words around the table. It will be fun.

Just a word on the Granduca before I move on. It is my favourite restaurant in Anghiari because of both the excellent food and the charming friendliness of the staff. That carne I mentioned is on the menu as “Stracotto con patata schiacciata al timo”, which is slowly cooked beef (six hours) in red wine with steamed potatoes and thyme. Absolutely melt-in-the-mouth squisito. My visiting friend Phillip was so impressed with the far-from-ordinary hamburger he ordered on his first night in Anghiari, he went back to have it again last night. It has a beef pattie with crunchy pancetta, melted pecorino cheese, sautéed chard and roasted tomato sauce. And the bread is made in-house.

It pains me to say it but today is my last whole day in this charming ancient village that has taken me into its arms.

I’m in that limbo state, halfway to Australia already and halfway still here.

Cleaning up and packing my bags, tossing out all the paper I don’t need to carry – pages of Italian homework exercises, concert brochures, superfluous notes – I came across my journal from last year when the thought of staying for an extended time first entered my head.

“I am seeing the benefits of reinvention of self in another country. Feel quite free, drawn to make it longer. I imagine three months here, a small 2-br apartment with a reasonable kitchen and visitors.” It seemed a bit of a pipe dream at the time but, remarkably, it came true. I am so happy to have introduced seven different friends to beautiful Anghiari, two of whom I hadn’t even met back then, and to see the pleasure it has given them. Thank you for coming, Ben, Susan, Kate, JD, Venita, Eleanor and Phillip. Sharing this experience with you and having your company has made it all the more special for me. Friends, indeed, are the best.

A few fabulous things about Italy today

• As well as having recycling bins for paper/cardboard and bottles/cans/plastic, some larger towns, including nearby Arezzo, have bins for organic waste. They obviously have some method of breaking down the compost as there is no odour.

• Even our small village has plastic bags that are 100% biodegradable.

• Responsible service of alcohol whereby you receive small panini (sandwiches), olives, peanuts and potato chips with your aperitivo at no extra cost.

A few not-so-fab

• Smoking. Like chimneys. It is allowed in outdoor eating areas and many people toss their butts into the streets. (I saw a very well-dressed middle-aged woman do this in Firenze and was shocked.)

• Talking freely on mobile phones while driving. Even a bus driver pulled out his phone, while driving, to check the schedule on-line for me. Eek!

• While the plastic bags are biodegradable, plastic containers are used for deli purchases such as olives or pesto and sealed by a machine that dispenses cling wrap. What is the answer?

For my last day I have plans to take photographs of some of the interesting faces of the people who inhabit this village, if they will allow me. My final blog might well be a portrait gallery, but we’ll see. A la prossima! – Mimi

On June 21 the rising sun marches straight up the Corso Matteotti. That's Eleanor taking a picture.