I’ve recently returned from, as it’s become, my annual holiday in Italy. There is still so much in that wonderful country that I could see this become a permanent date in my diary – I hope so anyway. This year I was staying in the small village of Gabicce Monte on the border between Emilia Romagna and Le Marche on the East coast of Italy and that means the Adriatic Sea. I usually go to Italy in June because it’s not quite so hot as even a few weeks later and, sorry to appear unsociable, but it’s comparatively uncrowded for a gloriously sunny, beautiful and for an historically and artistically fascinating country. I always anguish about where I should stay and if I should trust the internet to guide me there. So far, phew, I’ve always been lucky.  Gabicce Monte, sits between Rimini and Pesaro but up there on its own hill it is a place apart. I rented a small house  right up there at the top.

It was really two houses converted into one and it lived amicably with its immediate neighbours in its own little courtyard. I was very happy just to sit there in the morning with coffee or in the evening with wine and to watch the the world that is Gabicce Monte society go by. I could even rustle up just enough Italian to enter into village gossip.

..or, if you can keep your eyes off the view, my new friend the little green lizard.

The view though was exceptional and, yet again, I wondered if I really needed to go anywhere else.

OK, at times, looking at that castle on the neighbouring hill, I was tempted to go and see where Francesca Da Rimini (the star of Dante’s Inferno) met her grisly and romantic fate and where Lucrezia Borgia lived for a time, happily, they say,  with one of her husbands. It is also said that the Renaissance artist Piero della Francesca walked to that castle from Rimini and, taking in the view, put memories of it into some of his paintings.

Looking the other way, I could also take in a view over the Adriatic to Rimini in the far distance.

If I wanted to go out, I thought, why not just head down through the little alleyway into the village.

After-all,  how often do I get these kinds of views at home. Well, Lewes, UK,  actually competes quite well.

There are plenty of places for a good strong cup of Italian coffee but I chose to have it with a view of the Adriatic.

Did I mention the icecream? I’d better not because I don’t think I should make you jealous.

I could even have a simple but wonderful Pizza Rossini, this is Rossini country,  and a carafe of red wine while the sun set over the Adriatic Riviera.

This Italian version of crême brulée was, I suspect, even more delicious than you could possible imagine.

I could take to village life if it was always like this.

I’m told that people travel a long way to see the Gabicce Monte sunsets but I rather stumbled across this one.

So, maybe I should give the rest of Italy a miss, I thought, sitting over yet another superb meal alfresco.

..or the strawberry pana cotta…

…even if dinner under the stars does invite unwelcome guests into your wine. Luckily, I got this inebriated moth out of my glass before it came to a blissful but premature end.

Yet, again, meals in Gabicce Monte are accompanied by the beauty of ever changing light over sea and sky.

The village is home to an impressive ceramics artist, Daniele Foschi, who takes time out, often quite late  on hot evenings, to teach his art to new generations. This little girl was mesmerised and, awkward though it was to carry, I brought home some examples of his work.

So, before too long, I was happy to abandon any thoughts of going any further. I did of course and will tell you about some of the things I saw in this region in another blog but, for now, I’ll keep you here in Gabicce Monte and go back up onto the roof garden where I found the space for another of my holiday essentials.

Somewhere to practice my morning martial arts.

The Damo moving meditation system….

….my style’s own particular form of Taichi, known as Suang-Yuang…

and then my White Crane Kungfu patterns.

The post It is easy to hide yourself away in Italy’s Gabicce Monte. appeared first on Wolfie Wolfgang.

I’ve found a mental and physical exercise routine that has worked for me while writing the first draft of my new novel which I finished on Wednesday and celebrated as a significant landmark even though I know that there’s  plenty of work ahead on future drafts. The most important part of the routine was how I began each day. Before breakfast but after a glass of water, I go out into my garden and limber up for the day doing a series of martial arts exercises starting with the so-called Damo meditation exercises where I go through a series of muscle-stretching movements while strictly controling my breathing and precisely counting out each movement performed on the ‘magic’ number 9. Whether these exercises were actually invented by the Indian Buddhist monk Bodhidharma, or Damo (5th/6th Century AD) as he’s known in China, is still debated but Damo is credited as the founder of Zen Buddhism and, when he travelled to China’s Shaolin Temple, the founder too of traditional Kungfu. Far from being a Shaolin monk, I’m certainly benefiting from Damo’s teachings as they were passed on to me by Neil Johnson, my Kungfu Instructor here in Lewes (see White Crane Fighting Arts).

After completing the Damo exercises, I move on to practice the 66 movements of my Taichi form known as Suang-Yang which I call Taichi because it looks so similar but it is actually the ‘soft’ style of my White Crane Kungfu style that originated in Southern China. I’ve heard it called ‘Chinese Boxing’ and even though it looks lyrical and gentle in practice (when done by an expert – not me!), every move has a devastatingly effective martial purpose which all practitioners of this form are encouraged to visualise.

 After the calm but difficult Damo muscle stretching exercises and the equally demanding movements of Suang-Yang, I move on to the rather more aggressive and fiery  ‘hard’ style  by repeating all my Kungfu patterns (training patterns) three times hoping that, one day, I’ll get the foot positioning right instead of, as you can see here, taking too big a step. Believe it or not,  I do actually get this right every now and then.  There is so much to learn, I know.  In the meanwhile, I’m benefiting from practicing these complex movements that stretch me to my limits.

I finish my morning fitness routine with a series of Qigong exercises that also come from ancient China and can be described as a form of standing meditation where deep breathing and stylised fluid movements are supposed to circulate that mysterious thing known as ‘qi” (life energy) through the body.

Whether ‘qi’ exists or not, when I finish these movements and all the other exercises each morning,  I feel remarkably energised especially as my exotically perfumed roses have begun to flower.  I don’t know if Damo would approve but I’ve started to inhale  rose perfume between exercises.

 My poor man’s version of life in a Shaolin monastery garden over, I’m ready for breakfast and then I go up to my study to begin writing. It doesn’t make me a better writer doing this in the morning but I’m sure it brings out the best that I can do.

I take a number of breaks during the day usually involving coffee or tea but, before returning to the study, I do some more ‘Warrior’ training exercises, especially a set of pull-ups on my pull-up bar  over-looking the garden.

My blood and maybe my “qi” circulating again, I’m more than ready for morning coffee.

This might sound eccentric but, working from home and most of my day spent trying to pit my brain against my computer, I find this mix of exercise, controlled breathing and caffeine, the ideal way to get my brain moving. The first draft is  now complete and I’m taking a break from the new novel but I will keep up my martial art practice even when I’m away on holiday.

Oh yes, and when I’ve  needed another break while writing this draft,  I’ve listened to music and found that this has worked  piece, a new obsession for me, works best of all. The wonderful countertenor, Max Emanuel Cencic  singing  Pianta bella, pianta amata by Tomaso Albinoni (1671-1751) from the album Veneziana. The perfect way to unscramble the brain when it’s on overdrive and, of course, to think of Italy:

The post Mixing writing and Kungfu works for me but I’m far from being a Shaolin monk. appeared first on Wolfie Wolfgang.