Bahrman Bulletin

One year ago, I was in Ireland for my first (and only) marathon. I had so much support–the video from the Buck clan who ran a marathon relay in honor of the race, the music they thoughtfully provided to keep me trekking along, Tom and Aunt Suzanne there to cheer me along, and all of the money friends and family donated to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. With so many people supporting me, how could I go wrong?

A year later, I was wondering what I could do when Megan said she had been on a training run for the Run Like Hell race in Portland. Sounded like fun–and an incentive to run off some of my pasta and gelato. Reminiscent of childhood, I decided to tag along with Megan and her friends.

As race day approached, I had run only three training runs. I felt a little like a crazy 17 year old. “Half marathon? Sounds like fun! Sure, I’ll run. Oh, tomorrow? No problem.” Only I’m not 17, which means my body isn’t ready to tackle 13 miles at the drop of a hat AND I’m old enough to know that it can’t. But, training or no training, I had ordered the shirt, which meant I was running.

This race, a year after the marathon, did not begin with sunny skies. It rained, it poured, it sprinkled, it showered…all those terms that weather people use in Portland to describe what is essentially the same thing: wet. But despite the dampness, it was a great race. My goal was simply to enjoy it–and I did. Sea-level is a wonderful thing! And my time was not too shabby, either. At 1:50, I came in 15 of 155 in my age/sex category.

Now I wonder what Megan has planned for next year? I hear the Disneyland (half or full) is pretty fun!

Living out of a suitcase and constantly being on the go can make a vacation feel like work. So we decided to stay in one place for a week. We picked Cortona, in the south of Tuscany, for its charm (at least, that is what we had heard) and its central location to many hill towns. We found a quaint little apartment right in the center of town, which we called home for the week.

We peppered the week with day-trips: some to places we wanted to return to, and some to new towns to explore. As it was vacation, we took it leisurely most days. We walked down the street to a local bar for our morning cappucini. I enjoyed seeing the owner greet the locals by name, comment on the elegant attire of the older ladies, offer to help darn a sweater for an older gentleman, and play with the young child of another couple. It was a place where the sense of community was palpable, even if I didn’t speak the language.

We found that sense of community throughout our travels. While there are still a few Italians living in the hill towns, they are nearly outnumbered by tourists–mostly American. Each time we sat down to a meal, we found ourselves conversing with the people at the table next to us. It was fun to share their stories of travels and home, as if we were friends meeting at a reunion. We met people on their honeymoon, celebrating their 45th wedding anniversary, and house-hunting for the perfect retirement spot.

An afternoon cooking class offered the opportunity to get to know other travelers better. After cooking (and eating and drinking) for 3 hours, we then shared the meal together. Fourteen gathered around a large table for one of the best meals we had in Italy.

One day, we decided to stay in Cortona and explore the town. After a walk up the hills, Marie and I headed down the main street for some lunch. I wanted to sit outside, enjoy the people passing by and the cool fall sun. We decided upon a cafe and patiently waited for an outdoor table to open. As we were waiting, I looked up to see the name of it: Bar 500. Marie had been looking for this place for three days! Soon, we had our table and the food looked amazing. Next to us a couple was enjoying a bottle of wine and some delicious looking pizza and flatbread. I kept staring at their food and then back to the menu, trying to decide what to order.

Not surprisingly, the woman at the table asked, “Where are you from?” It is the typical question that our new-found travel acquaintances always asked. However, the way she asked it was a little different. I answered, “I’m from Oregon, and Marie is from Seattle.” And then she asked, “From Bend, Oregon?” I was taken aback. I looked up from their pizza to see Melissa, a woman I had run with a few times here in Bend! I felt so embarrassed that I was so interested in their food that I didn’t even see the couple who was sitting next to us. We enjoyed our lunch with Melissa and her husband Keith, laughing at just how small the world is.

No trip to Italy would feel complete without a visit to Firenze. However, knowing there were many other towns we’d like to see, we limited our time there to one night. It was enough time to see the main sights, wander the crooked streets and relive fond memories. First on the agenda, though, was visiting Santo Spirito.

Firenze, like most Italian towns, has more churches than shoe stores. In college, we studied most of them in either my History of Florence or Art History courses. During that year I had been to most of them, too. Except Santo Spirito. Brunelleschi designed the current basicila, and his San Lorenzo across the Arno was one of my favorite church interiors. I wanted to see Santo Spirito, but as my days in Firenze grew limited, I intentionally decided not to see it. I wanted to leave something to come back for.

A dozen years pasted before I made it back to Italy. Santo Spirito was top of my agenda when we arrived in Firenze. However, I was traveling with four other people, two of whom had never been to Italy. So I went along and enjoyed the must-see sights. Santo Spirito, it seemed, would still be an excuse to come back.

Four years ago, we arrived in Firenze and walked from the train station to our hotel, dropped our bags, and then headed to the Oltrano to see Santo Spirito. Anxious with anticipation, I walked up to the doors only to find a paper notice. The church was being restored and was closed. Disappointed to be so close and still not see the church, I turned toward the Palazzo Pitti and enjoyed the other sights of Firenze.

Once again, we were in Firenze. The history of Santo Spirito had faded in my memory, but not the desire to see it. We walked directly to the church only to discover–it was open! Finally, I was able to see the work of Brunelleschi in this magnificent Oltrano church. And I have to say, I wasn’t disappointed. In addition to seeing the ornate ceiling, perfectly balanced columns, and simple but elegant interior, we also saw the original crucifix designed for the church by Michelangelo.

Santo Spirito is the essence of Florence. It’s facade is relatively plain (although finished, unlike the bare facade of San Lorenzo). It seems a little tucked away on the other side of the Arno. The small wooden door though which one enters doesn’t hint at the elegance one finds on the other side. And once inside, everything is perfectly arranged and balanced. There is a rhythm that draws you in, making you feel not so much in awe as peaceful. Standing in the church, I was perfectly content to just be.

There is little I like more in this world than meandering through the narrow streets of Firenze, being taken aback by the massive stone buildings that lurk around each corner. And then, stealing a peak inside one of the buildings, you are surprised by the magnificent green courtyard. What at first seemed overly heavy and dark opens to an inviting, sunny, tranquil respite. For all of its glorious pieces of architecture and boastful history, it is this mysterious, surprising side of Florence that beckons me.

I no longer have Santo Spirito to lure me back to Firenze. However, I am forever enchanted with her charm. I can’t imagine a trip to Italy without a trip to Firenze, even if just for the night. Returning to Firenze is like going back home for me.

Our plane tickets were in-hand (figuratively speaking) more than six months ago. We were headed back to Italy to celebrate our fifth wedding anniversary. Then the fun began–where would we go? What would we do?

My college roommate Marie decided to join us on our trip, and so email discussions ensued. Tom wanted to see Cinque Terre, since he had heard so much about it, but never been. Marie preferred starting at Lake Como. I just wanted a relaxing, slow start to the trip (and a decent hotel). The compromise: Portofino. Along the Mediterranean, an upscale resort town. We splurged on the hotel rooms (which were wonderful) and set off to enjoy the finer things in life, like leisurely walks to the lighthouse and Genoese pesto. (Photos of Portofino below.)

Marie, always a planner, wanted to know how we were getting to Cinque Terre the next day. She mentioned how excited she was to eat at the same restaurant where we’d celebrated her birthday six years earlier. I knew Tom wanted to see Cinque Terre, so I went along with it.  We figured out we’d have to take a bus to the nearest railway station, then an hour-and-a-half train to Cinque Terre. Not exactly my idea of a leisurely day, but I like Cinque Terre and figured a little hiking would be good given the gelato I had already consumed.

So the next day we’re in Cinque Terre, only to find the trail closed between the two towns where we planned to start. The train was running late and now we needed a new plan. I was starting to get frustrated as we shoved our way through the throng of tourists to get a scoop of gelato (hiking or no hiking, I still wanted my gelato!). Then I reminded myself that I hadn’t planned on being in Cinque Terre, so everything I saw was a bonus. I confided this to Marie who returned a frustrated, puzzled look.”What?! I thought the whole point of Portofino was to come to Cinque Terre!” “No,” I replied, “It was instead of Cinque Terre. But now we get to see both.” I was confused, as Marie was so enthusiastic about the restaurant and planning the trip. She then confessed, “This is my fourth time to Cinque Terre. I would have been perfectly happy with coming here just once. I don’t like Cinque Terre!”

So there we were, in Riomaggiore, despite the fact that no one planned for us to be there! Yet, when in Rome…so we enjoyed the beautiful sunny skies of the picturesque day in Cinque Terre, for the fourth time. We were able to hike through four of the five towns and still made it back to Portofino to relax that evening.

While visiting with my siblings this weekend in the San Juans, we were reminded of the children’s riddle, “To market, to market to buy a fat pig. Home again, home again jittity jig.” While Ryan insisted that the ending should have been “jog,” we Bahrmans knew better. Chiara has been getting lots of practice with the riddle (and is apparently a better rhymer than her uncle). We’ve been out and about more than we’ve been home lately.

After dropping Becca off at UP, we returned to Bend for one day and then boarded a plane for Vegas. It was the first trip for all three of us to the glittery city. While Tom worked, Chiara and I played. On Tuesday night the three of us went to see Cirque du Soleil’s Mystere. We wondered how Chiara would do sitting still for so long, but she loved it! Although too small to sit in her own seat (it kept folding up on her!), she sat quietly on my lap, giggling and laughing throughout. For the next several days, she reminded us of the stunts that the acrobats did. “They were swinging and bouncing…” she would retell with streams of giggles.

After a relaxing Labor Day weekend at home, we headed back to Portland for my 20-year high school reunion. Although the crowd was small, it was still interesting to attend. We had time to catch up with Laura and Jon, which made it more than worth the trip (and even the $170 dinner that was down-right awful).

At the park with Gra and Papa

On Monday, we went up to OHSU to meet with our doctor about Tom’s latest test results. We were frustrated to learn they went up–the opposite direction we’d like to see. However, it wasn’t a big increase. In fact, it was almost a plateau. So we keep monitoring; our doctor moved the next test up a few weeks. We did learn some good news, though. Science is amazing–there is now a Plan D available! Another new drug is just finishing the first phase of clinical trials and looks to be quite promising. We hope we won’t need to get to Plan D, but it is reassuring that it is there if necessary.

We were home just long enough to do a few loads of laundry and repack our bags. This past weekend we headed to the San Juans for cousin Zan’s and Janna’s wedding. For the first time in many years, all 11 cousins were together! It was fun to celebrate the beautiful couple in such a lush setting. And while it poured in Bend that weekend, the rain was quite cooperative on the green island. We enjoyed a rehearsal dinner, complete with s’mores, outdoors before any drops began falling. And on the day of the wedding, no rain fell until it was almost dinner time. Someone up above was looking out for the newly weds and all their guests!

And the self-timer shot of the year:

Once again, my dear friend Petie and her husband Dave hosted us for dinner, this time at their house in Seattle. Chiara had a great time playing ball with Ryan, Kiera and the Dads while Petie and I had a chance to talk. And Marie and her father stopped by for a quick pre-Italy visit. It was the perfect ending to a weekend of friends and family celebrating together.

Now we’re enjoying a week at home. I thought it would be plenty of time to get laundry done, visit with friends, get out for a few jogs, and do some cooking. I’m learning, though, that a week at home just isn’t long enough. But I’m not complaining. With Italy just a few days away, I can’t help but feel giddy.

Chiara, however, does not have another trip to look forward to. I assumed she’d appreciate being home for a while, but she apparently has the travel bug. Yesterday she asked, “Mom, what we doing Saturday?” I told her we’d be home and could play on Saturday. Her response? “That’s boring.” (I’ve never heard her say “boring” before.) I guess it’s time to start applying for her passport…