Sculpture Paradise in the Wilderness

It’s a magical place, hidden away from the distractions of a hectic world, a place where nature and calmness reign. A place to relish the natural world and art:

Joyful, fanciful, captivating sculptures

Some are huge.  Some are small.  But all ooze a vibrant, happy spirit.

“Tra i Mondi” (between the worlds) is a secluded sculpture park tucked away amidst olive trees, wild herbs, flowers and forests high above the Mediterranean in northern Italy.

This is artist Carin Grudda’s world. Grudda is a master of sculpture, painting, graphic art, collage and more.  Her works have been exhibited throughout the world. She was represented at the Venice Biennale in 2011.

“Here Somewhere Else.” Zebra sculpture, Carin and Joshy.

My small group visit began with “Here Somewhere Else,” a bronze zebra which Carin calls her symbol. She had a commission to do a huge painting on Namibia. Never having been to the African nation, she launched into research and came across a photo of a tiny drawing on rocks featuring a zebra in a precarious place.

 “I was thrilled.  I felt his spirit.”  He charged on.  “He touched me by not being timid…Somewhere else is freedom.”  The painting was a success.  Two more were ordered.  She decided the zebra needed to go big in bronze.

In addition to art and art history, Carin studied philosophy which, as with the zebra,  plays a role in her creations.  She summed up the  thoughts, feelings and spirit guiding her works, borrowing a phrase from Nietzsche, “to light a star once a day.”

We follow her from sculpture to sculpture.  Joshy,  a big rambunctious canine, is the tour mascot. The 14-month-old Waeller, a new breed developed in Germany, fits right in.  His antics bring smiles, as do many of the sculptures.

“Grande Donna” (above) is how small children see their mothers, she explains. “Isabella Koffer Schuh,” (Isabella Suitcase Shoe), another large, bronze female but with a suitcase for a foot, was created during the pandemic.   We are all weighted down with baggage, the burdens of daily life, Carin says.  “We are hindered from running away, but we must escape.”  

Noisy, happy frogs in nearby ponds serenade us as we follow Carin up and down the three levels of the park.  The views along the way are as inspiring as the sculptures — and Carin.  She is exuberant, passionate, warm and delightful. No wonder these sculptures are so enchanting. 

Tiny village of Lingueglietta in the distance.

Some works are inspired by mythology, such as two representations of Phoenix, symbolizing birth and renewal.  Bronze pigs, chickens, cats and sheep also reside in the park. The surfaces of many are imbedded with symbols. Everything has a meaning.

Each of her creations begins small, a  miniature. After a year if she is still in love with it, it can grow into an immense sculpture in bronze, some weighing up to a thousand kilos.

Hop on a sculpture for a ride. Her works are meant to be touched and enjoyed. Note symbols on sculpture… and playful Joshy in background.

Bronze casting is a monumental feat. The laborious process is explained on her web site. After making a prototype model, “a casting  mold is  made of sand mixed with resin, a container for the negative form of the model looking like a box you can open up. The model is taken out of this casting mold, leaving a cavity which the model – or rather its shape – has impressed into it.

“The casting mold is then closed up with a hole on top connected to the cavity. The liquid bronze is poured through this hole, filling out the cavity left by model.

“The casting of bronze is an exhausting occupation. This is why the next step after casting the liquid bronze is opening a bottle of beer. The time it takes to drink a beer is usually enough to cool down the bronze inside the casting mold.”

Carin works with foundries in Turin, Milan and Rome where her creations come to life in bronze. They may find their home in the park, but they will be on the move to exhibitions near and far. 

The Blue Cat is one of several like this now at home in other places. Carin is a cat lover. Her hefty black cat Mollie happily roams amidst the bronzes. “You can’t educate cats. You can’t correct them. They are free,” she says.

Carin was born in Gudensberg, Germany, in 1953.  With her husband, Gunter, she has made her home in the Italian hills above the Ligurian coast since 2,000. “I had to have this park.  At a certain point I didn’t know where to put all this stuff.  I chose this place because it’s untouched nature.”

She’s happy she decided on Italy.  “I have borrowed Italian identity.  I feel so good here. It’s a chance to fly.  It changed my life. ”

“Tra i Mondi” between the worlds, the park name,  can refer to the different worlds of expats, in her case, Germany and Italy.  But it can be much more, she says, an overall feeling that you don’t belong. 

Our visit ended with lunch al fresco in the park, beginning with a selection of cheeses produced by neighboring farmers and a fabulous dark nut bread made by Carin.  She gave me the recipe which I will attempt.   She also made two delicious cakes for our dessert. 

Cooking and baking, she says, “are the same for me as art, creative.”

The sculptures, surroundings, scenery and sounds make for an unforgettable and joyous afternoon. I hated to leave this happy place, which my friend Gerlinde called a “little paradise in the wilderness.” 

Visits to the park can be arranged by appointment.
More information: park@carin-grudda.de and www.carin-grudda.de  Mobil: +39 347 2288 928

Carin’s bread

Scroll down for more photos. And, please comment. I love feedback – good and bad. See below.

TODAY’s TASTE. I was hoping to post Carin’s yummy bread recipe, but I want to try it first. Meanwhile, try this, LECSO (Hungarian Ratatouille), a tribute to Hungary and its new pro-European prime minister, Peter Magyar. Yeah Hungary!

And, for more tasty recipes click  here.

Carin is about much more than sculpture as seen during a visit to her studio. Many of her paintings are featured on her web site, http://www.carin-grudda.de

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 Road trip to Turin and Milan

Off to the big cities in northern Italy by car, my fire engine red Suzuki Swift.  Brother Steve and sister-in-law Yoshie from Boulder came to visit me on the Mediteranean coast in France.  We wanted to explore some new turf: Turin, Lake Como and Milan. . Steve was supposed to share the driving, but, before arriving in France, he was pickpocketed in Florence.  Driver’s license gone, as well as credit cards and cash.  You can’t be too careful in Italy.

So, it was me behind the wheel.  The driving was challenging. Before the Italian adventure we set off on the mountain road (too many hairpin turns) to the spectacular site where husband Bob’s ashes are dispersed around a pilgrimage chapel.   Then, the dreaded Italian autoroute stretch from the French-Italian border, first towards Genoa:  114 tunnels and hundreds of monstrous trucks .  It would be a nail biter if you didn’t need both hands on the steering wheel.

Pilgrimage chapel, Moulinet, Alpes Maritimes, France.

Finding our hotels in central Turin and Milan was borderline nightmare.   These are big cities with lots of traffic and chaotic intersections – at times even too much for GPS.  I screwed up more than once.  Stress!  And, our sorry adventure to Lake Como.  We did see water, but the surrounding spectacular mountains were hidden in clouds.  The road to our lakeside hotel was narrow and curvy – and treacherous when we had to depart in a downpour, driving through many ponds on the flooded road.  

That would be more than enough. But the challenges were not over yet.  Steve and Yoshie returned to Boulder by plane.  I set out on the trek home in the Suzuki.  After 45 minutes of nerve-wracking driving, I made it out of Milan to the autoroute. Not long thereafter, the clutch died. My guardian angel was with me.  I got the car off to the side of the autoroute without being crushed by speeding cars and giant trucks.  The car was towed to a garage (where it still is).  I came home by train.

Driving aside, Turin and Milan are worth a visit.

Following are photo highlights or our journey

A major attraction in Turin is the Mole Antonelliana (left) and the National Cinema Museum which it houses (right).

My favorite, however, is the Egyptian Museum. It’s not Cairo, nonetheless fabulous.

Turin’s Mercato di Porta Palazzo is Europe’s largest open-air food market.

The decadent Bicerin: espresso, hot chocolate and whipped cream, is a Turin tradition. Aperol Spritz: the drink of choice these days, is everywhere.

Milan’s Duomo (cathedral) is dazzling. You can take an elevator to tour the roof, but only half way. Then steps, too many and yet another challenge for a handicapped old lady. But, she did it. Roof photo, right, by Stephen K.

Milan’s Galleria is also dazzling.

It’s not just Venice that has canals. Milan’s Navigli district with two canals is a hub of artisan shops, restaurants and bars.

We enjoyed this overwhelming collection of historic photos at a shop in Navigli. Steve bought copies of several.

Best meals of the trip: Florentine steak in the Quadrilatero area (lots of restos and bars) in Turin, and osso bucco with risotto Milanese in Milan. We also feasted on delectable pizza and pasta throughout our Italian journey.

Entrance courtyard of the University of Arts in Brera, an area of Milan where we came across an outdoor vintage clothing market: Gucci, Armani, Dior and more. Fun, but we resisted purchases.

Yoshie and I attended a concert in Milan’s renowned La Scala. A poser in the Galleria.

We met my friends from Germany, Ian and Trina, who generously treated us to lunch at a charming agriturismo. Danke. Grazie! They now live in Varese, a stop on our way to Lake Como.

No spectacular views from our hotel on the shores of Lake Como. The night before the clouds and fog rolled in, the moon and lights from passenger ships made for a pretty picture.

Steve’s video

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11 responses to “ Road trip to Turin and Milan”

  1. Morray

    What a trip — the clutch dying on the autoroute is the kind of thing that sounds funny only in hindsight! The Porta Palazzo market in Turin is something else, one of those places where you just wander for hours. The risotto Milanese you mentioned is one of those dishes that photographs beautifully too — that deep saffron colour. There are some really good shots of it at https://www.dreamstime.com/photos-images/risotto-milanese.html if you ever need images for the blog, the close-up ones really capture that creamy texture. Anyway, great read, Italy always delivers even when everything goes sideways.

    1. The clutch episode was definitely not funny, but frightening. I survived, and I am glad all went well in Turin and Milan. Thank you for the photo link. I agree. Italy never disappoints.

  2. Oh wow! That was quite the series of unfortunate events. Do you have your car back yet?

    1. But, all turned out well. Yes, the car is safely back in my garage. However, in the future, if I decide to go to Turin or Milan, I will take the train. Both do merit a return.

  3. Steve Koester

    I’ve been debating what to do with the rest of my life, but thanks to Tobi and Erika’s comments I’ve decided to become a social influencer.

    My favorite part of the trip with Leah was Torino, a city that feels somehow organic (I can’t think of another word), It’s scale is for people, it’s walkable, it has street cars, it has multiple open spaces, and in the inner part of the city it doesn’t seem to have any buildings higher than maybe six stories except for Mole Antonelliana, and one completely out of place condominium or apartment building. We had a surprisingly good dinner the first night at a little hole in the wall Peruvian restaurant and an absolutely horrible dinner at a “Japanese” restaurant run by a family from Mongolia. I thought my sister was going to die after eating the wasabi but she enjoyed the mochi ice cream.

  4. tsaidel

    Great photos, videos and stories. I also share the pain of driving in Italy. I think the Italian police are still after me! “Forgive me office…I donna speaka Italiano!”

    Great video Steve!

    1. Thank you, Tobi. I like Steve’s video too.

  5. happily64dfa75244

    Hi Leah What a wonderful and horrible story. So glad Yoshie and Steve visited you (it was a pleasure to met them in Boulder) Thanks for sharing the story, wonderful pictures and the lovely video from Steve. Hope you are fine after all this stress situations 🫣 you’re so adventurous. Take care, big hugs for you and Simba

    ********************************* Erika Niederer mit homesitting um die Welt

    unterwegs von Alaska nach Feuerland http://silverstar-on-tour.jimdo.com http://silverstar-on-tour.com

    1. Always good to hear from you,Erika. You are adventurous with your Trusted Housesits near and far. Enjoy California,

  6. Frances

    Leah, what an adventure! I’m so sorry Steve lost his wallet, credit cards and driver’s license, leaving you with all the driving. I have driven the roads in that part of Italy, so I feel your pain! What a trooper you are! And good for you making it to the roof of Il Duomo! Again, no easy feat! xo

    1. As the saying goes, Sxxx happens. We all survived and had an enjoyable, interesting trip.

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Discovering the marvels of MUD

Five days a week, beginning in the wee hours, Askit is on the job, filling buckets with deep brown, slimy, gooey mud. Therapeutic mud.

The husky, jovial native of Albania then pulls a cart with six heavy buckets of the yucky substance to the treatment area at the Hotel Residence, a spa hotel in Abano Terme, Italy.  He has been doing this for 30 years, he tells me with a hearty grin, then dumps a pail of mud onto a therapy bed.

Vanni, his Italian colleague, takes over, spreading the mud into one or more puddles on a bed in a small therapy room.  The room also has a shower for hosing off the mud and a deep tub for après-mud soaking in warm thermal water. 

Vanni motions me into the room.  I shed the hotel robe.  Mud treatments are not for the prudish.  This is naked body treatment, however miniscule thong “undies “of a gossamer-like paper are available.  

Vanni checks the soaking tub.

Vanni is a joy, always smiling.  I stop trying to cover my sagging boobs with my arm and follow his instructions to  lie on the bed, back positioned on the big puddle. He lathers me with mud, covers me in plastic, puts a blanket on top and disappears. The mud is hot initially, but soon deliciously warm. I stay that way for 20 minutes.  Vanni returns midway to wipe my face with a cool, moist cloth.

He started working at the hotel in 1979, he says, and now calls himself “fango meister,” German for mud master.  Many Germans previously patronized this spa hotel.  Vanni has mastered the language in addition to the mud.

I am a water rat.  The mud is pleasant, but I adored the soak in the hot, bubbling thermal water.   According to the Abano web site (abano.it), the water makes a long, underground journey from the pre-Alps.  Rain enriches it with mineral salts.  It is transformed and “classified as salted-bromide iodic hypothermal water.” 

Euganean Hills, Abano Terme photo

The mineral rich water is the secret ingredient of the mud. Abano is at the feet of the Euganean Hills, a region of prehistoric volcanoes in northeastern Italy. Clay is extracted from lakes in the area, filtered and purified, then left to “ripen” for at least two months in special tanks with the hot thermal water.  Not just hot, but scalding water which emerges from the ground at 75-90 °C (167-194°F). For pool use, it travels through a piping system and is cooled to 30-35 °C (86-95°F). 

The final mud product is natural therapy with a healing, anti-inflammatory and analgesic action.  It is said to stimulate cartilage restoration, enhance the immune system, as well as restore vitality and a mineral balance of the body.

Pool at Hotel Residence

The tub soak is a delight, but even better are the thermal pools, large indoor-outdoor pools with warm thermal water and powerful water jets. They are not meant for swimming, just relaxing and enjoying the soothing water.  I could have spent hours at the pool, but learned from experience that was not a good idea.  The recommendation is for 30-40 minutes maximum per session.  Of course, I disobeyed the first time, and then was completely wiped out. 

Abano has been a wellness destination since ancient times.  According to legend, the first settlement in the territory was founded by Hercules who is said to have restored his strength and health here after his challenging feats.

Romans were fans of water treatments and appreciated the healing properties of hot springs and mud from the valley.  More than 2,000 years ago, they built villas and settlements whose ruins are still prevalent in the area.

Sun beams and steam at hotel pool

This was my third visit to Abano. The first was in the summer (not recommended). See my previous blog, “Taking the waters – and the mud” for more details.

This past Christmas as well as Christmas 2023, I joined friend Angi for a 10-day visit to Abano.  Angi is a dedicated fan of the mud.  For years she lived in Rome and spent two weeks every year in Ischia, a volcanic island off the coast of Naples known for thermal springs and mud.  She had serious back pain following an auto accident which resulted in five fractured vertebrae.  The treatments “took away the pain and inflammation,” she says.

Friend Vera has been to Abano six times for “wellness, cooling out, relaxing… I enjoy it.  I enjoy the treatments,” she says.

I can’t say Abano made any difference with my numerous body infirmities following my disastrous fall and seven surgeries.   But it was sublime, a definite morale booster, a rewarding experience. For me, it did “restore vitality.”   I just may return next Christmas.

In addition to mud and water, I treated myself to massages and facials.  I spent an afternoon exploring nearby Verona.  I joined the excursion to Villa Selvatico, one of many villas, castles and abbeys in the surroundings.  I attended a church concert. And, I found bargains at the town’s weekly market. 

Food was another highlight – very good, varied, healthy.  Angi and I shared a table in the welcoming dining room. Fatima, an “angel” from Brazil, was our waitress. She brought us real cappuccino in the morning so we could skip the watery machine variety. She gave us advice on menu selections. Like most of the hotel staff, she was cheerful, helpful and fun to chat with.

Fatima

The town Abano Terme has a population of 20,000, but claims 250,000 visitors annually.  There are some 37 spa hotels of all categories offering pools and mud treatments, as well as other hotels and different accommodation possibilities.

My package included nine nights single room, three meals per day excluding drinks, unlimited pool and sauna use, plus bus transportation: 1,400 euros (about $1,500 at current exchange rate).  A doctor visit is required before beginning the program, 70 euros ($72). The doctor determines, recommends which treatments are best for each visitor.  I paid 35 euros ($36) for each mud wrap and tub soak; 70 euros ($72) for a heavenly detox facial; 75 euros ($77.50) for a 50-minute-deep tissue massage.   The latter were so exquisite, I had to have more — an anti-stress facial and another deep tissue massage.

Throughout the year, GB hotels, a group of five Abano spa hotels, organizes bus transportation from several  cities in southern France where I to Abano.

More information on Abano: www.abano.it.  More info on the four-star Hotel Residence and other Abano hotels at www.gbhotelsabano.it

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Photos for your Easter Basket

 HAPPY EASTER. HAPPY PASSOVER. HAPPY SPRING

“A picture is worth a thousand words.

Camogli at sunset

I recently visited my friend Karen, who rents an adorable apartment above the town of Camogli on the Italian coast south of Genoa.  She was my guide for five days as we explored this bellissima region.  Following are photos which say it all.

View of Camogli from Karen’s balcony

Karen at her favorite spot in San Rocco, about a half-hour walk from her apartment. Right, Camogli.

San Fruttuoso, a restored Romanesque abbey, can only be reached by boat from Camogli or on foot via a hiking trail. We opted for the boat.

We had several hours to wait for our return boat. The only restaurant had not yet opened for the season, but the beach was a delight for relaxation.

Manarola, above, is one of the five Cinque Terre villages perched and nestled along Italy’s rocky Ligurian coast. They are a magnet for tourists, especially Americans after travel writer Rick Steves touted their merits. Many years ago husband Bob and I hiked the trail between the villages. It was magnificent – not packed with the masses. At this writing, parts of the trail are closed for repairs. Karen and I visited four villages by train.

Manarola, one of the Cinque Terre villages

Lots of tourists, mainly Americans, visited Vernazza, the most popular village, in March, well before the tourist season.

Portofino is another tourist hot spot.
Karen and I enjoyed a pricey lunch in Portofino.
Along the coast near Portofino

We followed the recommendation of a German tourist and hiked to the Portofino lighthouse. Right, another view of Portofino

Nino, a very affectionate and friendly cat, belongs to the owner of Karen’s apartment who lives below her. I thought Nino was one of those rare cats with two different coloured eyes. Not so, I learned. The blue eye minus the pupil is his souvenir of a cat fight he lost.
Was this cat an ancient ancestor of Nino?. This portrait of a monk and his cat hangs on the walls of San Fruttuoso.

Only in Italy: My hotel room window had a clothes line outside (left) — very practical. Clothes hanging out to dry decorate many buildings in Italy.

One more photo of Camogli

Albergo La Camogliese, a centrally located hotel in Camogli, is affordable with friendly, helpful staff. You even get a clothes line outside your window. http://www.lacamogliese.it

My other writing projects, Immigrants on the Italian border and Alzheimer- caregivers and victims, are on the burner.

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Looking Ahead

A complicated tale of money, violence, crime, racism, lies, traffickers,  a story of misery, tragedy, heartbreak and death:  Immigrants on the Italian- French border.

I met this friendly young man from Guinea in Ventimiglia. He told me he fled his corrupt, poverty-ridden country by boat from Tunisia. He wanted to continue on to France where he hoped to find work since he speaks
French. He was very proud of his flashy red sport garb from Guinea where he was a “footballer” and also a sports reporter.

There are similarities to the dreadful situation on the Mexican-US border.  Thousands and thousands risking their lives to escape conflict, persecution, famine, death. The journeys are dangerous, often plagued with violence, theft, and hunger.   They only want a chance at life, to have food and shelter, to work, to live in peace.  They deserve that chance.  Will they get it?

Relier volunteers filling food sacks for the immigrants.

I live in France just 20 auto minutes from the French-Italian border.  I recently started  volunteering  with a French organization, Relier, offering assistance to the homeless immigrants in Ventimiglia, the Italian border town. The majority are young, black males  from dozens of different African countries .  Most want to enter France, perhaps proceed to other European countries.  In this part of France, they are not welcome.

Immigrants in Ventimiglia enjoying a free meal provided by Relier, a volunteer organization .

It is a complex topic. I plan to write a more extensive article/blog soon.  I need more time and research.  Watch this space.

Another topic I am very involved with is Alzheimer.  For four plus years I have watched this cruel disease slowly destroy my husband.  I will write more on that too, with a focus on the dedicated caregivers devoted to the lost and confused.

Bob Update

Bob brushes a rabbit at his new home. Rabbits, cats and dogs visit once a month to the delight of the residents.

I had hoped to post a blog on one of the above sooner,  but since that has not been possible, and it’s been so long since I have posted, I wanted to give a preview of what’s on my agenda.  And, an update on husband Bob since my last post:  Christmas without the Merry.

The helpers I mentioned in that post,  Kyle and Paola, were fabulous, although Paola quit after three days.  Apparently, it was too much for her.  I could not have survived without Kyle. He managed Bob with perfection and helped me keep my sanity. It was not easy for either of us.  The accident (fall and broken pelvis in several places) greatly accelerated the Alzheimer.  Bob was confined to a  hospital  bed in the living room.  He was difficult, especially  at night when he was very agitated and slept little. 

This restaurant at Les Citronniers, Bob’s home, is for the non Alz residents. I can accompany him there from time to time for a tasty meal, with wine of course.

After three weeks, Kyle and I, both exhausted,  came to the same conclusion.  We could not continue.  Fortunately, I found a place for Bob in a near-by EHPAD, a type of French medicalized senior citizen home.  He is in the Alzheimer unit with 14 others.  The staff are patient, caring.  The food is good, very French with four-course meals and a gouter (snack) in the afternoon. The ambience is pleasant–  bright, clean and spacious. He has never asked to leave, to come home.  I don’t think he remembers our apartment nor realizes where he is and why. That is sad, but probably a blessing. I visit daily. 

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