LONG AGO AND FAR AWAY - 3 September 2011

3rd September, 2011 

We've been back in NYC just shy of 48 hours. I say that mainly to see if my brain can function on that simple mathematical level because my mind - which is what becomes of my brain - has no idea how to measure or quantify anything right now, a state of being which vacillates between euphoria and concern.

Is this jet lag? Ot is it an out of body, out of mind state that results from removing oneself from a driftwood shelter on the edge of the Tuscan sea and driving to Rome airport, dropping of the car, shuttling to Terminal 3 as per instructions only to be told we must shuttle to Terminal 5 - with 2 months worth of luggage - where we and our bags are inspected from head to toe and before we are shuttled back to Terminal 3 for "lounging" and boarding.

Could it be that we have lost mental facility because we ate too much ecchinacea and sprayed too much peppermint oil up our noses in the hope of warding off germs sneezed and coughed onto us by a very sick adolescent? Or maybe it's the 9 hours of droning through the sky on 5mgs of valium and interment trays of inexplicable "food." Or did we lose the last of our grey cells when we landed? Along with 10 other flights and the 3000 passengers from them, all of us herded into one immigration hall. It took an hour and 15 minutes to go through passport control after which we had to climb over suitcases to get to ours as by now some 6000 pieces of luggage had been conveyed. Some carousel.

Forget a taxi. We went illegal, grateful to find any vehicle with room for us and our bags and capable of crawling through rush-hour traffic, during which Joel turned to me and said "What are we doing?"

We sure weren't doing the farm. Nor were we dipping in and out of the aquamarine sea where we spent our last 3 days. And what days. La Pineta Residence  - pinetaresidence.it - is a simple, efficient compound of Tuscan red buildings on 3 sides of a large lawn. Each unit completely private and with a kitchenette and terrace. The little restaurant staffed by 2 cooks and 2 waiters, fed us 3 times a day; home cooked, healthy, generous meals. It cost us 70 Euro a night inclusive. That's right, 100 bucks a night for bliss.

And there was a bonus. This is an all Italian resort - we were the only outsiders. And this was a special week. Families with school kids left a couple of days before we arrived. This was in fact, baby, toddler week. Ew, you might think, immediately imagining being surrounded by babies screaming from colic or teeth, not to mention toddler tantrums. You'd be wrong. It was like living in the midst of a whispered lullaby. Really, never before have we witnessed such easy gentle parenting en masse. Everyone was at play, babies, toddlers, parents, grandparents. Fathers wheeling little infants in their prams, circling the lawn of an evening. Or the 3 dads with their 3 daughters playing with a big rubber ball, just sort of following it around wherever it landed, whoever had it next, wherever it went; 3 men, 3 little girls, 1 ball. For 45 minutes we watched from our terrace until the Mama's called them in, sweet kisses exchanged, the ball on call for the morrow.

And the mothers, so pretty, dressed for dinner, the way Italian women do, sitting outside in the gentle evening air; no angst, no reprimands, no neurosis that we could see. When was the last time you dined at 8:30 with 15 kids ranging from 6 weeks to 4 years and no meltdown? Is it the pasta? The sea air? The pine grove? And why is no-one using their cell phone?

And then there was the couple in the little building next to ours. In their 40's, from Bergamot. They had adopted a boy from Vietnam who was perhaps 18 months old. We remarked to the father one evening what joy it gave us to watch him with his son. "Well," he said, "It was a long story."

In the morning we breakfasted on our terrace before walking down the beach to our new waterfront home.

We'd like to say we built it, but someone more ingenious had generously left it intact. Like most beaches, if you're prepared to walk a few hundred yards you leave the rest behind and spend hours in blissful solitude. In and out of the sea. In and out of the sun. Time stretched until it disappeared. Only hunger made us leave. And we'd walk back down the beach on rubber legs, plonk ourselves down at an umbrella-ed table and eat succulent grilled shrimp and salad. Then a stroll down the lavender and rosemary bordered path to our little maisonette to write and read.

In the early evening we'd take a blanket and lie under our favorite pine tree watching its lush dark needles jazz against the still, blue sky. And then back to the beach to watch the last of the families playing in the sea, playing in it ourselves, in love and lucky. Showered and dressed for dinner we once again sit amonst the cooing babies and chatty two-year olds and eat yet another amazing 3 course meal before strolling home, stopping to pick lavender for our pillows.

Oh, that's where we left our minds!