Traveling With Celiac Italian-Style and screaming along the way

Recently, I've taken to screaming several times a day. It is not like I've adopted this as a hobby or something. I'm screaming because, at the moment it seems very much like I might die. So I scream. Just a good old-fashioned fear response, which has been occurring since, at the Rome seaport, we rented a small car. I've been unusually frightened ever since.

Of course my fear is occurring for a reason: Italians either drive 120 miles per hour because they believe they are Batman test driving the newest Batmobile or 15 miles an hour because that's the speed they drive farm equipment. The problem is these slow-moving obstacles are almost impossible to circumvent because those driving 120 miles per hour come flying out of nowhere like stealth bats-out-of-hell, scaring witless Americans who then become too frightened to pass the slow-moving obstacles. It is indeed a game with unclear rules. A part of this game I have figured out is that those in the Italian Batmobiles are keenly aware of the slow-moving obstacles. This I know is true because no one seems to crash. Ahhh.  Unfortunately, those of us in-between, the sort of law abiding, hapless foreigners on holiday who stupidly rented a car in a foreign country rather than taking the train and who don't understand the rules to this driving game are left panicked. Or in my case screaming.

My screaming is not planned, it is certainly not appreciated by my driver-husband, and it is wearing me out. Then yesterday, I started screaming for a new reason. Something dark, competitive, and alarming has awakened in R who seemingly has determined he'll beat the Italian Batmobile drivers at their own game. It seems the American Dark Knight has risen, looks exactly like my husband, and is driving me around Southern Italy -- but in nothing nearly so safe, or cool, as a Batmobile. During those brief moments when I open my eyes long enough to glance at the odometer, and I see that my husband is now driving 115 miles an hour with the speed edging up, I scream.  Right now, my life scares me.

All this makes traveling with celiac seem much less important and easier to handle, especially since after a day of screaming I'm much less hungry and more interested in making red wine my meal.

Back to the topic at hand we will go --  eating in Italy when one has celiac -- once we return the car. Can't wait to join the bike tour!
Ciao.

Crusty, yummy gluten-free bread in Matera.

Traveling With Celiac in Italy

Bed count 89. Locations of beds 87, 88, and 89 -- the magical land of southern Italy, Puglia, the heel of the boot. Let me just go on record that I think the Italians really know how to live, minus their limited use of air conditioning, terrible highway driving, and roads in need of repair. And I guess I'll add to the list their tradition of starting dinner each evening at 8 or 8:30pm which can be a bit late for an American. Beyond those complaints, I think Italy is heavenly and mostly makes up for the minuses with sunny, warm days, slower pace of life, amazing scenery, and abundant, glorious food.

On this segment of the trip, we traveled to Siena in Tuscany, the old port town Bari on the Adriatic, inland to historic Matera and then with the bike tour to small villages like Alberbello, Ostuni, Fasano, Otranto -- all beautiful parts of southern Italy, a region fairly easily traveled when one has celiac.

Here's a summary of what I've learned about dining in Italy with celiac--

1. In larger, frequently visited (think day trips from Florence) cities, like Siena that serve international tourists it will simply be easier and more convenient to find safe food. In Siena our hotel Palazzo Ravizza recommended a restaurant only a few minutes from the hotel. The restaurant owner's wife has celiac, diagnosed when she was seven. While this is an unfortunate situation for her, for a traveler with celiac it has yielded a restaurant owner who deeply understands celiac and manages his kitchen in a celiac-safe way. It was such a joy to safely eat delicious Italian food that we ate there twice and recommended it to a couple we met on a tour. His restaurant is Vivace (vivacesiena.com). The owner of Vivace recommended another restaurant that makes safe gluten free pizza. We delighted in Siena's considerable charms and  ate well.

2. In Italy, food service workers are required to understand celiac and food allergies  and in my experience they are well educated. Once I mastered the important phrase "Senza glutine" (without gluten or gluten free) and handed over my celiac card, which every server knowingly brushed away, I was in business. The Italians, no matter how limited their English wanted to help me have a delicious, safe meal. Celiac wasn't an annoyance to them. I wish that were true in the states.

3. Make friends! Not just in life but when traveling, especially in smaller cities where dining options may be more limited. Richard befriended the gregarious Italian gentleman who ran the tourist office in Matera. He recommended a wonderful restaurant, Fornaci, and phoned the chef to confirm he could accommodate celiac and to tell him we were heading his way. On our arrival, the chef came out to greet us, took my Italian celiac card, wrote on the reservation "gluten-free" and told us to come back in an hour. When we returned, I was greeted with fresh gluten-free rolls and told I could select anything I wanted from the menu and he would prepare it gluten-free. In Matera, I found gluten free heaven and excellent, affordable wine. It is very good to have friends.

    The remains of my wonderful fish soup!

4. Traveling in a country that values fresh, quality food mostly makes eating safely easier. Beyond pasta and bread, much of southern Italian cooking is naturally gluten free. Zuppa di pesce, a luscious tomato based fish chowder of mussels, shrimp, white fish, and clams is 
made without any wheat filler and easily found in many restaurants, even in small villages.
And many a small restaurant in a small village offered gluten-free pasta.

5. With some advanced notification, even organized tours that include meals will provide excellent food. I've been on tours where styrofoam-like, overly wrapped pseudo-food was presented (or tossed at me) as my included meal. Not in Italy. On a day long tour of wineries that included lunch, I enjoyed antipasto, salad, and pasta with the group and the chef asked specifically if my gluten free pasta was to my liking. It was and I came home with six pounds as proof.

    A Puglia specialty -- which is gluten-free. Black rice, vegetables, and fresh mussels. Heavenly.

6. While my preference is to be as stealth as possible about food, that often isn't possible because fellow travelers are curious about what I eat. I'm always prepared to answer questions about celiac, but I do grow annoyed when others want to know why I'm 
receiving "special" food. Thick skin is a good thing to pack when traveling.

    Seafood pasta found in the small village of Monopli.

Is it no wonder that my current day dreams feature extended stays in sleepy Italian masserias, long bike rides along the Adriatic, and multi- course meals enjoyed late into the night? Oh, Italy.

80 Beds, An Anniversary, and Moving Forward

     Rainforest, New Zealand 2014. I look really small.

    The bed count within the gap-year reached.....80. I'd like to say the 80th bed was located in an exotic, breathtakingly beautiful locale, a place full of adventure and dazzling sights but.....in reality the 80th bed resided in a Hampton Inn directly off I-5 in Elk Grove/Laguna, Northern California where we stopped for the night on our way too long drive from Palm Springs to Oregon. Clearly, not all bed experiences are created equal. But I'm so getting ahead of myself. WE HAD AN ANNIVERSARY!

     Thursday was an anniversary of sorts. A year ago that day, movers swept our boxes and furnishings off to storage in Indiana and we piled ourselves into our overstuffed SUV to begin our journey west and into a new phase of life.

     Those who know me know my love for travel and ongoing itchiness to see and experience the world. Where did my gap-year adventures take us? Because I love data and counting stuff, I've made a few lists.

State side (and in no particular order)  National Parks  -- Mesa Verde, CO, Saguaro East, AZ, Crater Lake, OR, Olympic, WA, Grand Canyon, AZ, Haleakala, HI, Hawaii Volcanoes, HI. I like this list.
Other locales -- NYC and the 9/11 Memorial, a visit with dear friends, and tour of Harlem, cycling on the San Juan Islands, WA, visits to Vancouver, WA, Portland, OR, Palm Desert, 
Palm Springs, Tucson and more.

Cruises -- four -- Transatlantic from Florida to Amsterdam, Norwegian with stops in Iceland, Faroe Islands, and Shetland Island, Vancouver, BC to the Hawaiian Islands, Hawaiian Islands through French Polynesia to North Island of New Zealand to Sydney.
Bike trips -- two -- Ireland's Connemara Coast and New Zealand's South Island.

Places visited -- Lisbon, Portugal, La Harve, (Normandy) France (Omaha Beach, WWII museum), Dover, England, Bruges, Belgium, Amsterdam (Van Gogh Museum, Anne Frank House), Brussels, Dublin, Ireland, Connemara Coast, Ireland, Galway, Ireland, Glasgow, Scotland, Copenhagen, Denmark, Oslo, Norway, Bergen, Norway, Faroe Islands, Shetland Island, Scotland, Grainger Fjord, Norway, London, Vancouver, BC, Hawaii, Oahu, Maui, Tahiti, Bora Bora, Auckland, NZ, Bay of Islands, NZ, Sydney, AU, Adelaide, Kangaroo Island, Christchurch, NZ, Franz Joseph Glacier, back roads of NZ, Moeraki, NZ, Queenstown, NZ. Happily, almost every place we visited was new territory for us.
We also managed to see all my siblings, many of our nieces and nephews, some grandnieces and nephews, R's family, and the Canadian group of aunt, uncle and cousins, as well as longstanding dear, dear friends. Toss into the year that we sold one home, bought another, and sold another small property. Gosh, I think we were on the move.

  My gap-year has been astounding, but not one without unexpected complications, disappointments, delights, mistakes and missteps  -- just like life. I wish that everyone I love, cherish, care about in any way could have such a year, to travel, to grow, to change, to learn, to see, to appreciate -- with an emphasis on appreciating, how much we have, how few material items are required to make a good life. Then perhaps we could all discuss how one settles down after such a year. I haven't a clue so right now each day I'm just making it up. Just like life.

      Forward R and I move. More beds to locate and count. More experiences to enjoy.

    Mum and Joey. Kangaroo Island, Australia. 2014

    Feeding my Australian friends.