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For the wanderers

Bragging rights in Riomaggiore…

OK! Gonna brag. No. Not the Instagram ‘here are my red lacquered toe nails on a beach in the Bahamas’ kind of brag. No. This is the ‘here are my Coral lacquered toe nails on a sunny terrace overlooking the magnificent Mediterranean’.

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My new home for 7 days is a small studio with a big view, sitting atop a steep winding road just above the castle behind which sloping steps sweep back down to join the start of Via Colombo, the main thoroughfare that leads down to the harbor.

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Riomaggiore doesn’t have quite the same ‘distressed’ antiquity as Vernazza and Monterosso; more fresh paintwork, wider walkways, yet the same tall houses resting against each other like drunken sailors in shades of terra cotta, soft pink and dusty green complemented with moss green shutters, washing lines and flower pots bursting Geraniums. But where are the cats?

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Via Colombo is steep and wide, two or three deep steps down the sides into shops serving fried seafood cones, pizza squares and colorful gelato; Italian linen shirts, sarongs and sunscreens, Limoncello, local wines and home made pasta. As well, little bistros and restaurants, some with outdoor elevated seating. Still haven’t found a cat.

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The road slides to a halt at the tunnel junction – to the right a very long one lined with a beautiful ocean blue mosaic leading to the train station and to the left down steps and under the railway tunnel to the harbor, ferry access and beach.

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The harbor is a sheltered enclave much like Manarola, smaller than Vernazza and crowded with colourful little boats and mossy rocks upon which bathers recline. The tiny crescent beach, accessible via a path carved into the cliff face, has bigger pebbles, smaller space and is wall to wall sunbathers, some attempting to wobble across unsteady terrain into water so crystal clear it belies the depth. A good thing for kids are diving in off the cliff. Easier and much less embarrassing access than the pebble wobble but I ain’t gonna try it. No cats.

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Unlike Vernazza there’s an absence of cats. Like Vernazza there’s the presence of church bells. Right below my door. Thankfully someone sent the memo…keep it down will you? Jane’s in residence.

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Coming soon: Another, possibly fateful, definitely horrendously steep walk from here to Manarola. Fortifying strength as we speak with a pleasant little local (wine that is) over another spectacular sunset. Oops! There I go again….

Day in the life (brain overdrive)…

Trawl La Spezia’s Friday clothing markets – malls of stalls heaving fluorescent jewelry, bikinis, Nonna house coats in 70 shades of blue, Nonno singlets in 50 shades of white, enough cork platforms to stopper Europe’s entire wine harvest, cheap perfume and rhinestone ‘I heart Italy’ tee-shirts (curse at wasted fare, console with large glass of wine)

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Admire deftness with which Nigerian hawkers foist their cachet of designer knock off bags into sheets and turn to shadow within the whiff of a cop (and the styles were all so last year)

Puzzle over chappy cycling by with a plastic shopping bag knotted on four corners over his head (alfalfa sprouts cheaper than hair plugs?)

Laugh at supermarket lady going sparko over exploded coke bottle (whole shop sprayed a pleasant golden brown, matches her tan)

Cringe when same screams ‘Peach you NOT squeeze!’ ‘Get OFF the banana!’ as a hapless Swede attempts to buy a fruit snack (mass exodus of terrified tourists)

Perfect mantra while puffing up countless steps to cemetery for super photo moment (‘buns of steel, burn pasta carb, buns of steel, burn…’)

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20130813-183458.jpgSip ‘Aperol Spritz’ (Prosecco, Aperol, soda water), appears de rigueur, tastes like Campari (gak!) and settle in to admire sunset (and hoover complementary chips and focacia cubes, cheap nosh)

Marvel at the volume of cats under the restaurant chairs (good thing they’re not rockers) waiting for the chips to fall (haa haa)

Hear a beat, explore, get swallowed by a thumping, smoke shrouded, strobe splattered dance party squeezed between the rocky outcrops of the harbor forecourt (say what?)

Gasp at volume of black eye patches (a load of lost eyeballs for such a small village?) learn it’s a Pirate theme (someone forgot to send the memo)

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20130813-183626.jpgStare (discreetly) at skinny brown women usually found standing in doorways smoking, tittering and yapping Chow! Chow! into their mobile phones (until tourists waving money lure them back to their shops), now teetering on tall cork platforms, sporting black on black body cons, blond bouffants and enormous fluorescent chandelier earrings (Er? Fashion police, we have a ‘situation’)

Observe Nonna’s on the benches eating ice cream, old chaps throwing back Nastros and Peronis (not one of ’em pinch my bum, what is that?) and kids trying to set fire to a boat (candles lining the street prove irresistible)

20130813-183518.jpgPonder the fire twirler’s choice of music…a song about Monday when it’s Friday (who cares?) Brain explosion.

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Hear the beat ratchet up a notch, hear Romeo calling ‘Where for art thou Jane? Thou hath warmed the bed for thee!’ (yeah right). It’s 3am and I have 4 hours to cram a sleep before the 7am bells start clamoring again. Twice! Right outside my window (bloody Village alarm clock)

Just another day…

 

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Dreams to Reality

Are your dreams (career or otherwise) languishing in the ‘one day when’ box? Sometimes the smallest thing can give a dream the impetus to take wings. I found mine when I saw a blog post regarding a Writer’s Retreat, to be hosted by the inspirational Lisa Clifford and conducted in the Tuscan mountains just outside Florence, Italy. Living up to my Blog’s edict – one chance at life – I bit the bullet and enrolled and I’m so glad I did, I had a ball. What’s more I found Lisa’s own story equally inspirational. I asked if she might share via a guest blog and she kindly agreed. Over to Lisa…

20130808-203646.jpgOne of the buzzwords on the internet is ‘dream.’ Make your dream come true, visualise your dream, indulge your dream. There are programmes, foundations and projects called Dream as well as Rebuild the Dream, Dream Hotels and Dream Travel. The focus now on making your dreams come true is incredible. So to coin a lyric from Les Miserables, I dreamed a dream and joined the Dream Team…I created my dream job.

My dream for years was to organise a retreat for writers in my adopted home, Tuscany. I had already published three books, had a fourth on the way and a movie in the pipeline. It was definitely time to give something back. Firstly, to others who dream of becoming published writers and secondly to the mountains of Tuscany, the place that helped make all my dreams come true.

The idea was to design a programme that I personally would love to do, something that offered a special kind of withdrawal into a creative space. Lots of lectures from published writers and fabulous teachers, professionals who are particularly good at evaluating what you’ve written. A writers retreat that offered time to learn, time to create and exceptional private time to chat with authors who’ve made their mistakes and subsequently wanted to share how to avoid the common and not-so-common problems of working with the written word.

20130808-203637.jpgSeveral writers, along with a British Creative Writing teacher that I have worked with in the past, agreed to join me for five days of lectures. We learn in the morning, write in the afternoons and have guest speakers at night. As time goes on, more writers and creative writing teachers have joined my team.

The Art of Writing runs always in the second week of June and the second week of September. We book out an entire Tuscan agriturismo (Italian run family farms that by law have to provide 50% of local produce on their tables) with ten apartments, for ten writers. The Art of Writing groups are small and intimate, ideal for nurturing and encouraging each other.

Here is a short video of the 2013 Art of Writing. I hope it helps you think about your dream and how you too can make it come true.

2013 Art of Writing

Thanks Lisa!
For more inspiration don’t hesitate to check in on Lisa’s own sites:

http://www.the-art-of-writing.com/
http://www.lisacliffordwriter.com/

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Key inspiration. Deirdre, Jim, self, Lisa, Penny, Catherine, (Morag missing)
Key inspiration.
Deirdre, Jim, self, Lisa, Penny, Catherine, (Morag missing)

By the way, there’s a lot more to the retreat besides grasping the concept of writing a best seller as you’ll see by photos and post: ‘On finding one’s voice’

NB: Jane is currently on sabbatical in Northern Italy contemplating and acting on outcomes. Feel free to follow her jaunts on this blog. Comments always welcome!

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