Orchestrating Experts

On Tuesday afternoon we headed into Oxford. The two participants from Milan showed up last for the bus - only a few minutes late but enough to get a mouthful from Francesca who is one of the wranglers and who was anxiously counting us. The “chat” was in Italian, so we’re not sure what she said, but the word italiani featured twice and we all had the giggles. 

Our destination was Balliol College where we definitely got our Harry Potter fix. Sandstone walls, arched leadlight windows and towers, it was everything Oxford is supposed to be visually. Despite the cold, we spent a lot of time outside taking photos. 

Our first session at Balliol was by an 18th century English lit expert, all about language - the current growing use of “I feel” instead of “I think” and “my truth” rather than “the truth” and what that may mean. Really interesting. It pales into comparison however to the next session. We were brought into Balliol Chapel and sat in the pews while our presenter Peter gave us a five minute session on the role of a conductor. The focus was your role as a generalist leading subject matter experts, and the session included a brief bit of hand waving practice with a partner. Then we all individually came up to conduct a choir. A real choir. The singers had been instructed to respond exactly to what we did - start, stop, tempo and volume were entirely dependent on the person conducting. After a first try, Peter would explain what we could do to improve and we had another go. Peter made incredibly insightful, accurate comments (phrased as a question, but really a comment) about our leadership style or approach. Who told him I was impatient and always thinking of what came next ??? It’s hard to believe it was just me telling him by waving my hands. Person after person stepped up to conduct and the leadership feedback was so spot on. Control, not giving others space, micromanagement, ego, you name it, we were exposed. We don’t know each other that well, but enough to feel it was right, and conversations afterwards confirmed it. They changed songs, so the different pieces presented different challenges, and the choir was superb. The choir members also gave us feedback in small groups about how our actions impacted them and how they felt about our conducting. My feedback was that I connected well with them, that they felt I was trying to understand their needs. 

Minimal instruction, no experience, public, instant audible response to our leadership , with the whole room able to hear the impact of our actions. Scary. But… the music was so very beautiful and to be part of the creation in making it added a layer that nearly made me cry. I had a Bach piece - the music, the acoustics of the chapel, the stunning surroundings, just magical. 

The session was followed by a formal dinner in the dining hall of Harris Manchester college, starting off with a grace sung by our long suffering choir members. It was a noisy, fun meal and a nice chance to debrief with each other about the day. I’ve tried to attach a video with a bit of the conductor, showing us how it’s actually supposed to be done after we had all finished our attempts. 

Snowglobe

On further exploration, the dorm room is surprisingly well kitted out, with a dressing gown, decent tea and coffee and good biscuits (ginger shortbread). The design probably wouldn’t pass any code these days though, with the edge of my loft bed only marginally lower than the padded guardrail (I’m sleeping on the far side lest I take an unscheduled trip over the edge) and a bathroom only 55cm wide. Claustrophobia in the shower cube might be a real problem. I understand there are four rooms with bigger bathrooms, and the reception team quietly allocates them after looking at the person checking in. I’ve included a photo of me in my Oxford hoodie - probably the only time you will see me wearing one! 

It was only five degrees and raining in the morning, so sensibly the tai chi session was in a little room overlooking a garden rather than outside. These morning sessions proved to be the only time to stop and breathe and clear my mind. It’s  SO full on. One of the group suggested that it was like a snow globe that’s been shaken up and that’s exactly how I feel- ideas swirling all over the place. Such fantastic ideas though. It’s my absolute favourite kind of learning- interesting concepts, new frameworks to put things together and lots of time to discuss with other people who think conceptually. I have never never done anything I love as much as this. It’s also such a hothouse of ideas and cultures, all together, all the time, bouncing off each other, challenging and supporting. I’m wondering how it will feel once I’m outside this environment and what I will take away to implement. 

Also, it’s snowing! So beautiful. It’s a bit challenging to be inside all the time - I’ve not gone outside for 36 hours now. It feels even more enclosing to be in this warm noisy place surrounded by the snow falling silently outside.

  

In-spired

A flight from Florence to London City airport and then  a car transfer landed me in Oxford. It’s cold and very crowded here, bustling people everywhere and I’m feeling a bit disoriented from the transition. Notwithstanding this, Oxford is gorgeous- a university city full of beautiful architecture, dressed up for Christmas.

 I stopped for a drink in a little pub, followed by a delicious dinner at the Ivy - finely julienned zucchini, floured and deep fried (OMG so good) and then a curry. Oh yes, and a Christmas cocktail. 

My hotel is a serious downgrade from the St Regis- a dark, tiny room decorated as if someone’s grandma was colourblind. Oscar Wilde once said “my wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death” and I feel his pain. I stayed at this hotel some years ago when it was gracious and very old English luxury. The Hilton has arrived and done their worst and I’m not finding anything positive about their changes. 

In the morning, the busy night streets became quiet and serene and I enjoyed a walk around the city, albeit with a takeaway coffee to warm up my hands. Does anyone know what a “mushroom shot” is ?? It was on the menu board as an extra to order with a coffee. I had a quick whip through the Ashmolean Museum before heading off my course - about ten minutes out of the city centre in a lovely park full of autumn colour. It’s a purpose built facility of the Oxford Saíd faculty- a downgrade again accommodation wise but kind of fun to be in my own little dorm room. 

I’ve only had a half day here so far but the course, the faculty and the other attendees are amazing. Even the food and wine is really good. We had a great session on looking at the future, pulling together into a framework the way different experts see it (sociological perspectives, ecological perspectives, technological perspectives etc). This was followed by a session in a small group (five and a tutor). The others in my tutor group are from Saudi, Romania, Spain, England and Malaysia. The final session was the “Museum of Culture” where we had brought an item from home to represent our lifestyle or culture or life. They were all arranged with little printed museum tags showing the stories. There were some wonderful items, particularly from the African and Asian people, but others too - a leaf skeleton from a special Buddhist tree, a Basque iron sculpture, a box of dates. I bought chicken salt to represent the outdoor lifestyle, shared meals etc. It was a hit - the Deputy dean is going to organise chips so people can try it. 

It’s a gruelling schedule, starting with tai chi (or a 5k run) at 6.50am and finishing at 9pm each night.  I’ll aim for a few more posts but am dubious about getting to it every day. 

Nessun Dorma

My hotel room has been somewhat of a haven from the chaos that is Florence, quiet, sunny and immaculately maintained - housekeeping may have a spy camera to know every time I leave the room. All this came to an end Thursday afternoon when a family with four children (or perhaps ten) arrived next door. I have never experienced anything like the constant chaos- they shrieked, they moved furniture, they slammed doors. At 7pm I’d had enough, and  called down to reception to ask whether I could move rooms if my neighbours were staying for more than one night. Reception offered me a bottle of wine, perhaps as some sort of sleep aid? My noisemakers were staying one night only so I stuck it out but the zoo continued till at least 10pm , resurfacing later in the night briefly and returning to full strength at 6am. I ate a hurried breakfast to avoid seeing them storm the buffet and headed out to Pitti Palace. As well as the access to the building and the art gallery, there was a clothing exhibition on, covering the early 1800’s to current day. The dresses were magnificent, often complete with shoes and hats, and the information cards were great- the kind you actually want to read. 

The building itself was stunning and I spent most of my morning there, returning to the hotel via a wandering path through the maze of streets. Here’s the bathroom built specially for Napoleon.

 I had lunch and a drink at the hotel across the road, where we had stayed in July. I enjoyed reminiscing about that trip over lunch, giggling a bit to see the lounges where my mother found the concierge team sleeping one morning. After lunch my St Regis hotel team were quick to let me know that my neighbours had eventually checked out (unsurprisingly they had just sent a car back to pick up a bag they left behind) and I had a dozy afternoon before free drinks at the bar (gift from the hotel to apologise). It’s become quite cold and on the walk to dinner I enjoyed looking at the beautifull Italian coats and scarves of the locals. There was a long line at the pork takeaway, where they carve slices of a whole pig, a bit like a horizontal kebab - here’s the one in waiting. 

Dinner was at a lovely trattoria near Santa Croche - family owned since 1872. Highly recommend their signature dish, Pici Casa Toscana - hand rolled pasta with rocket pesto and Tuscan sausage. My evening event was an opera showcase in a beautiful old church which was originally a Templar hospital in the 1300’s. Dimly lit , wonderful acoustics and beautiful music, my front row seat made this a magical experience. The concert was arias by three tenors, accompanied by a piano, a mandolin and a double bass, as well as a couple of ballet dancers.  A wonderful finale to my Florence experience. The late finish was challenging after my disrupted prior night and I took a taxi back to my hotel for a much needed sleep. 

Taste of Tuscany

 All the ladies in the breakfast area know me by now and they come and chat while I eat. I’ve been sticking to cereal and fruit, with one little taste of something extra interesting each day. Today I tried a chestnut slice that LOOKED like the caramel part of caramel slice but tasted like yucky meat. Argh. After breakfast, Leonardo picked me up for a trip to Lucca. It’s about an hour drive and we talked about lifestyle, politics, sport and a range of other topics, comparing and contrasting our opinions and experiences. No guide today - exploring solo is not quite as informative, but still fun. Lucca is beautiful and was very quiet since we are heading into low tourist season. 

After a coffee in St Michael’s square, I spent some time in the tiny Domanus Rome excavation house and walked around the various piazzas. 

I had gone pretty light on breakfast today, and the Pasticceria windows looked amazing so I indulged in a few snacks to keep my strength up - firstly Pizza Romana Tonda with tiny courgettes and Parmesan, the base very very thin and crispy with an olive oil crunch. I also tried some Coconut Biscotti- small biscotti rolled in coconut (and maybe egg white?) before the second cooking.

 

Back in Florence for the afternoon, I had a late lunch of a pizza with mortadella, pistachios and burrata. I watched the pizziolo shave the mortadella in front of me to put on top. Delicious. I decided on a few purchases for home to remind me of the trip. Firstly I went back to the pottery shop to buy a large planter for a tree out the front of 117 Regent. They make them as a custom order so I chose the colour and the design. It will be made by the brother, and painted by the aunt of the shop proprietor, whose son was also at the shop. I ended up with a matching house number as well. Good salesmen . They were such nice people and I was there chatting for ages. I then walked across the road to a fascinating shop, all dark timber shelving with gilt and fancy carvings, stocked to the brim with framed pictures. I had seen it on our last trip but it was closed. The owner, in his eighties, said he closes on all the catholic days. His grandfather started the shop in the late 1800s. He was also wonderful and I spent ages talking to him, buying three little beautifully framed pictures of Florence.  

It’s been a day of talking to and buying from the actual makers. It’s really satisfying and adds another dimension to the purchase. 

Sharing Siena

I was picked up today by my driver, Leonardo, to drive to San Gimignano. Friendly, personable and a good driver, he was an excellent find. On the way we collected a guide, Claudia (sourced by Leonardo) who was also just wonderful. San Gimignano is a medieval walled city, high on a hill. The town is full of towers, built by wealthy families to showcase their power and wealth. There is nothing inside, just a tower. There were originally about seventy towers, but only fourteen remain. All that work to look powerful… Shelley (who lived in Tuscany for a while) has an apt poem (Ozymandius)  - “Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains”. 

The views of the countryside with cypress, olives and vineyards were stunning and the town was gorgeous. It was a bit too early for most of the shops to be open - probably lucky for me as it was all artisan goods and looked pretty good through the windows. Claudia had great stories with just the right mix of historical facts and social reflection. 

We then drove to Siena, Claudia’s hometown. The Duomo was magnificent and Claudia had so many stories to bring it alive. This is her hometown and so much of her information was woven into stories about people in and experiences of her life. She was so generous in sharing her personal thoughts and opinions as well as the facts. Here’s the floor of the church and the ceiling in the library. 

The thing I found most fascinating about Sienna was the contrade - seventeen neighbourhood divisions, each represented by an animal. The most well known public feature of the contrade is the twice yearly horse race around the piazza, but Claudia (who is a Unicorn) told me and showed me so much more. Each contrade has its own church, patron saint, community hall and special customs and feast days. You are generally baptised into the contrade of your parents (they choose if both from different contrade) and then participate in that community. I was originally thinking of it as a football team type connection, but it’s actually a way of life, the social fabric of the community. Symbols and signs of the contrade are everywhere- a plaque on a building showing it’s the caterpillar area, a flag of the wolves, flown for four months after their win at the last race, the baptismal area of the dragons. 

Lunch was delicious, a new meal for me, Malfatte- a kind of spinach and ricotta meatball (no meat) in a sauce with butter and sage.

We finished our wandering with a quick look inside the Dominican church, a vast contrast to the elaborately decorated duomo, but equally beautiful in its simplicity, and enhanced (?) by the head and thumb of St Catherine. 

Finding Florence

I had a delivery to make this morning- a pincushion made from fabric my mother had bought here in July, to be delivered to the workers at the shop where she purchased it. I headed off after breakfast to deliver it. The path to the shop took me past Santa Croce (spectacular) through the leather market (some very nice bags) and into residential territory. Here’s Santa Croce as you approach it. You come around a corner and it looms up in front of you, lit with the lovely warm Italian light, such a contrast to the narrow dark streets. 

The architecture in the residential area was similar to the city centre with the only differences being that it’s a bit dirtier and the shops are functional (hardware, fruit) not fashion and homewares. In many cities, the tourist part is very distinct from the everyday living , but in Florence, these incredibly old buildings are still in use every day. 

Reaching the shop, I duly handed over the pincushion with “Mia madre...” and a gesture to the package. He opened it up and read the note out loud. It was in Italian so I have no idea what it said but his smile got broader and broader and he said a lot of delighted things in Italian. Other than “Gratzie mille” I’m unsure what he said, but he was very happy. 

I continued on to find an obscure little museum featuring Pietra Dura - pictures made with inlaid rock. The museum was tiny and they sting you six Euro to get in, probably to pay the wages of the five staff working there. It was sooo beautiful though. Here’s a photo of part of a table. 

It’s interesting to see how well staffed everything is here. Restaurants, hotels, even a tiny clothing shop I went into had four staff in a five square meter space. I spent the rest of the morning walking through the streets on the other side of the Arno. I found a shop where they make and sell Pietra Dura but the prices for even the basic pieces were north of a thousand euro so nothing is coming home with me. Lunch was at an outdoor table in a small square, fried artichoke and then lasagna. The place looked dubious but the food was delicious. 

I’d booked a golf cart tour in the afternoon. My idea was to get information about all the places I was seeing but…. as in Rome, these things are not staffed with proper guides. My driver spoke English, but only about five words, consisting of “very nice” and “1000 years old”. He said these phrases a lot. There was a little audio guide that he would turn on from time to time, generally when he was stopped just before the place of interest. Since I was behind him, facing backwards, I had to wait to see what the information was about as he drove off. It was a wild ride -he alternately yelled at people to get out of the way or yelled hello to people he knew. It was pretty funny, but very cold (could be the wind from the speed at which he drove), and I was relieved when the two hours was up. 

Dinner was at a little restaurant in the block behind my hotel  - white bean soup with vegetables and kale. Warm and hearty it was delicious and together with the glass of red was a cosy ending to a big day of exploration. 

La Bella Vita

I’ve stayed in some pretty luxurious hotels but the St Regis in Florence is something else again. The room is beautiful, overlooking the Arno, with a bed fit for royalty, but it’s the service that is the next level experience. I have a butler, who will pack, unpack, iron each day and brings a drink of choice every morning when I send a message - coffee in bed on a silver tray with a little cake and a flower. So fun. The bar sabers a bottle of champagne each night and a drink and snacks are part of the deal, all in a beautiful room with a piano player. The head server sings along with the piano from time to time, and wanders the room chatting to the guests. He’s a born and bred Florentine, really interesting to talk to. I feel pampered and spoilt and had ball the first evening without even leaving the hotel. 

Breakfast was a beautifully laid out buffet. I tried a few of fancy juices (the spinach and mint one was challenging but I got it down) but stuck to fruit and yogurt for food choices, saving myself for pasta later in the day. There are staff everywhere ready to help - three guys at the entrance to push the revolving door for you (it’s not that heavy...). 

I spent the morning wandering the city looking at beautiful things - a decorated pot for my front garden made by a four generation family business, a little diamond pendant from a jeweller on the Ponte Vecchio, a wooden inlay box, perfume from the oldest pharmacy in Italy (1612). I bought nothing, but loved revelling in the possibility of purchase. Lunch was at a little trattoria- pasta with a white wine sauce, caramelised onion and bacon. Delicious, and well worth the restraint at breakfast. Perhaps it was the wine at lunchtime, perhaps just jet lag, I couldn’t stop yawning and so indulged myself with a little afternoon nap that lasted till dinner time. Opting for fresh air, I sat at an outdoor cafe in the piazza, still dozy, people watching and reflecting on my experience so far. Such a lovely day, ticking all the boxes for contentment- life’s pleasures in moderation, new experiences and a little bit of self care. I’ve included a photo of the view from my room, the walls in perfume shop - a Dominican monastery and the library in my hotel 

Roman Holiday

 My hotel room was freezing cold. Apparently there is a rule for hotels in Rome that they can’t put on heat till the middle of November. I applaud their eco goals, but extra blankets wouldn’t have gone astray. I gave up the fight to get warm at about six, deciding to walk through the Borghese park across the road. It was still dark but the park is well lit and outside was warmer than inside so I walked for almost an hour. I’ve included a photo of the Aurelian wall that you walk through to get to the park. 

To my absolute delight, I ran into Philomena, an Italian lady that my mother met when walking on our July trip. We had a little chat - she has no English and I have no Italian, but waving hands and smiles and basic vocabulary got us somewhere and it was very fun to run into her. 

Breakfast was on the seventh floor, and as the hotel is high up on a hill,  the beautiful warm morning light illuminated Rome spread out in front of me -  a maze of streets and terracotta roofs with church domes rising out of the chaos here and there. 

I had booked a morning golf cart tour - the three hour itinerary took me everywhere I wanted to go and ended nearish to the hotel. I had figured it was cheaper and easier than a lot of taxis, and would add some interesting history and information. I was early (I know no one is surprised) and had time for a coffee at a little coffee shop across from the colosseum- here’s the view from the window. 

I was the only person on the tour, so quickly negotiated with the guide for some itinerary changes. The good luck ended there. Firstly, my tour guide Santos was from El Salvador and knew a lot about El Salvador but not much about Rome, despite living here for forty years. Further, there was a marathon on in Rome this morning, so streets everywhere were blocked off and there was no way to get to any of the places we were supposed to go. The golf cart tour morphed into a walking tour, that, due to the distances didn’t cover much. I’m pleased to say that I FINALLY managed to get to the Mouth of Truth (only my fourth time in Rome). The church there had a cool catacomb and I lit a candle for Jason for his birthday. 

I returned to a little restaurant from our first night in Rome on the July trip for a delicious pizza and a glass of red. At the table next to me there was a dapper little old man, dressed to the nines in a three piece suit, fedora and fancy shoes. Either a regular or a relative of the proprietor, he said nothing but proceeded to set his own table and then sat down for a delicious looking veal with a pile of potatoes and fried artichokes. The plate across from him had the same food but no one sat down. I shamelessly people watched, trying to figure out the story but it didn’t play out before I had to leave for the train station. 

The train promised a comfortable ride through the gorgeous Italian countryside but I was sooo tired and kept nodding off and jerking awake. I may have drooled. I’m very satisfied with my day in Rome. I love the layers of old, built on with new, the people, the food, and the environment. Also , I need to learn Italian. 

Florence arrival was smooth and I’m going to save the hotel arrival story till the next instalment. 

O solo mio

Although it seems like barely a minute has passed since our wonderful family trip, I’m now off again on a two week overseas jaunt. Week two is the main event - a residential leadership course at Oxford, but given the distance and the travel time, it seemed foolish not to add a week of personal leisure to the schedule. I’ve chosen to go back to Florence, via Rome, to spend some time exploring in a more leisurely fashion than was possible in our wonderful but chaotic group of nine in July. 

Flynn dropped me at the train station early in the morning. I was near to tears as he drove off, already mourning the loss of the laughter, camaraderie and shared experiences of our last trip. Still- I’m looking forward to choosing my own activities and the opportunity for quiet wandering as the mood takes me. 

Even for an early riser, getting to the airport by 4am for a 6am flight is challenging. I managed to put my shirt on inside out and then back to front (third time’s the charm), but both road and human traffic is low at that time of day so I soon was ensconced in the Emirates Lounge. After two undrinkable attempts at coffee from a nasty automated machine, I decided to abandon caffeination, which proved to be helpful in promoting a number of naps during the 24 hour transit. A series of schmaltzy Hallmark Christmas movies may have helped the dozy vibe. 

Good food, great service, a delicious burger at the Emirates first lounge, and in no time at all I was in Rome at my hotel. I’m staying at a lovely Sofitel up on the hill near the Park Borghese. They’ve kindly given me a suite, complete with a balcony that opens onto a narrow cobblestone street. I have full intentions of drinking my coffee out there tomorrow morning. It was already 8.30 at night after I was showered and feeling human again, so I opted for dinner in the hotel restaurant. Bread, olive oil and a glass of Rosé were a good start but I took one bite of my pasta and KNEW I was in Italy. It was a zucchini flower pasta, topped with the standard little fried zucchini flower, but after that, anything standard stopped. Fresh spaghetti, toasted almond slivers, tiny crispy paper thin slices of Zucchini (air fried perhaps?) and a very mild creamy red pesto. Next level amazing. 

I agonised over the title for this post. The correct spelling was “sole”, translated as my own sunshine. It works- I will be finding my own sunshine, but I just couldn’t resist the “solo” bit. Apologies to any opera purists.