Below you'll find an update of an article I wrote for Turin Epicurean Capital.
I wrote it for Blogging Piemonte, a group of expats and locals as it lent well to this month's topic "The Authentic Life"
By Bailey Alexander
When I turned fifty I realized it was time for a lifestyle change; I wanted to incorporate more meaning into my life. i just didn’t know how. Then, the idea arrived in the form of a light epiphany; after living in the center of so many cities I realized it was time to grow my own garden.
I began to think perhaps by saving myself, I could, in some small way, save the planet. Perhaps the world was conspiring to make this happen after we made the dramatic decision to finally settle down in northwest Italy, after having spent a very nomadic decade living all over Europe. My husband was an IT consultant and we had to follow the projects as those projects provided our income.
Yet mid life inspired a necessity to settle down so we bought a home in a place and state of mind called Piemonte surrounded by the Swiss and French alps; arguably Italy’s best kept secret. A secret that not only needs to be told but shared. Our new home included a lot of land along with a lot of opportunity to learn how to cultivate that land. It was time to grow my own garden.
The Italians have a saying, “piano, piano”, which loosely translates into “go slowly”, so carefully I proceeded to plan my garden by using a little imagination and a lot of hope. It was time. Once could even argue there’s a topical, collective concern about how the curtain has dropped between us and where our food comes from; let alone what’s in it. By creating my own garden here in Piemonte I could develop a direct line back to the food we eat on a daily basis. The benefits exceeded my mission as I’ve found it’s an absolutely fantastic way to get in really great shape. It requires attention; at least an hour or three per day throughout the spring and summer months. The work tapers off in autumn and winter gardens are a skill I’ve yet to acquire; “piano, piano” as they say.
Eventually the exercise of growing my own garden morphed into a natural extension of my daily tasks. Of course, whenever the locals stop by I realize I’ve probably exerted far more physical effort than necessary, and yet it’s all part of the learning process; the destination is the journey; indeed. And then the pay-off; that first burst of deep purple makes itself known, shyly at first as it begins to gently explode into a ripe eggplant. Initially the multiple varieties of tomatoes take their time along the vine, only to quickly appear, then suddenly a dozen at a time, ripe and ready to be eaten for the next meal or bottled in jars for the winter season.
From front to finish the process is rewarding in ways I’d never imagined. The plotting, the planning, time spent lining up the bamboo shoots just right, in a fine, straight line; all those days and hours spent weeding and tending to your very own personal masterpiece. Then pride takes over as it gradually becomes a labor of love; it begins to respond to you, feeding and loving you back with bundles of fresh lettuce, potatoes, green beans, peppers and herbs. Just like that I'd become so much more self-sufficient than originally thought possible.
Of course I hadn’t a clue as to what I was doing at first, I just channeled that old Nike ad and made it my own mantra, “just do it”. And so I did. Neighbors and new friends appeared at my doorstep to assist, armed with necessary advice. I seemed to need it; living in the city tended to strip to my mind of simple logic, what with all its distractions and discombobulated sense of time. While safely ensconced in the middle of my garden the sensations felt are nothing short of profound; the benefits go far beyond planting a simple seed.
I’ve no idea what my life would be like had we not accepted the call to adventure and sailed across the pond aboard our sailboat in 2002. Fortunately we’re not averse to risk and we’ve taken a great deal; some of our moves were romantic, like living in Rome, Paris and Venice, others were pragmatic, like Malta, Amsterdam and Bucharest; a few were simply made as if we’d thrown a dart at a map.
Yet this final move to Piedmont, as it's called in english, has proved the most fulfilling by far in a myriad of ways; not the least of which is learning how to cultivate my own garden. We now have our own well, our own gas tank and soon we’ll install some solar panels and learn how to live with even more self-sufficiency; alas “piano, piano” as they say.
Why Piedmont? It’s not exactly well known and yet we were familiar with Limone; a mountain village and ski resort located about 2 hours from our current home, on the border to the south of France. My husband's family dates back several centuries in Limone so I was somewhat familiar with the region but not the portion of Piedmont filled with lyrical hills, as the guidebooks say, amidst the soft agricultural environs surrounded by the Alps.
However, what the guidebooks fail to relay to the reader is how very serious the Piemontese are regarding their products; and they produce a great deal. Their attitude accounts for the high quality as mountain people tend to be as tough and and their landscape lends to great strength; yet they are very generous. They’ve managed to create a deep sense of community and after living here for a year; I feel as if I’ve been accepted in a small way, I feel as if I’ve finally found a home. They say agrarian culture is the closest to humanity so there’s little coincidence as to precisely why I keep thinking I can help save the planet by saving myself.
The local farmers focus on their famous wine, along with their white truffles, their wheat and their rice but they live life as lightly as any other Italian. Especially when compared to the other tribes I’ve lived amidst, including the French, Czechs, Romanians and Dutch. And they don't complain much; maybe for the simple fact they’re so proud of producing so much quality produce. And Piemonte’s micro climate does celebrate the seasons; all four are well represented here. Snow arrives each winter and the autumn is ethereal as colors explode into bright orange and ochre along the vineyards.
The famous fog, so airless and atmospheric floats up to our home only to fade away by the end of the day; it makes me feel as if I live in a gothic novel right before winter arrives. It provides an ideal contrast to the lighthearted spring and summer months spent cultivating the vegetable garden.
You certainly don’t need to move here or grow your own garden but I’m thoroughly convinced just a visit will impact your life. While driving through the medieval towns and imbibing at the family owned vineyards and restaurants you’ll be welcomed in a way that feels completely different from Italy’s more famous cities. And it just might play with your sense of time; life slows down and centers on the process. Sure you’ll find plenty of Michelin starred restaurants but everything’s truly ‘that’ good, everywhere you go. It you’re looking for an authentic life, for a week or two or perhaps a lifetime, I’m convinced once you’ve heard all about Italy’s best kept secret you’ll want to share it with everyone. I certainly do and I hope that I have....
Recent Comments