And so our journey home begins. The rental car has been returned after Siri lead us around and around the maze that is the Malpensa airport. We are checked in, our luggage came in well under weight, which means not many presents or trinkets from Italy (hope that's not too disappointing), and now we wait. We've just had our last croissant, which was injected with chocolate right before my eyes (a truly glorious thing), freshly squeezed orange juice, and a cappuccino (I may get another before we board the flight).
We are not sad to be coming home. Italia has overwhelmed us with her beauty. I can never unsee Michelangelo's Doni Tondo, or Bernini's Rape of Proserpina, or the Siena Cathedral of Santa Maria. I am so grateful.
I love travel for the light it shines on previously hidden corners of my world. I loved the moon rise over Venice and again in Verona, taking comfort in knowing the same moon will be there when we get home. I love staying in a place long enough for the romance to be dulled a little. I love getting that people live everywhere... perhaps not an earth shattering realization to most, but to me, seeing laundry hanging out on people's terraces is so grounding. This (wherever this may be on any given trip) is home to people, not just a playground for tourists to tromp through, snap pictures of and consume.
I bump up against some pretty unattractive parts of myself, too. That's no fun, but it rounds me into a fuller human... Kind of like the transformation of art when perspective was introduced in the Renaissance.
Anyway, now I am getting philosophical. You don't need to come along for this part of the journey. Terry used to say, just because something is interesting to ME, doesn't mean it's interesting. :o)
There's no place like home. There's no place like home. There's no place like home.
Friday, September 23, 2016
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
Northern Italy
So, I am sitting on our veranda in Vercana overlooking the stunning blue of Lake Como after an easy day of exploring the tiny town and strolling along the river and lakeside. Bill is doing laundry after an unfortuate incident with a poorly sealed jar of truffle cream in his suitcase. I just walked in on him using the bidet... to wash his socks. Ah, this popular European appliance has so many uses.
Our drive from Verona to Vercana over two days was spectacular. Driving here is not as scary as we had imagined, says I from the navigators seat with Bill behind the wheel.
We have travelled through so many different landscapes on this trip -- Rome with its big ancient things with big things on top, the west coast with its blue water and pastel clusters of buildings, the rolling hills of Tuscany, a patchwork of gold and green crops, the forested hills of Chianti lined with vineyards and cypress trees, the canals of Venice, flat Abbotsfordesque highway stretch of Brescia, and the dramatic looming majestic mountains of the north.
The bread has changed with the regions too -- hard and stale throughout Tuscan (peasant bread), soft focaccia in Chianti, crispy bread sticks in Veneto. Olive oil is served with bread everywhere, but we only got balsamic vinegar in Rome and then again in Veneto and the north.
I'm struggling with this particular post. How do I portray just how jaw dropping the Dolomites were. Or how unpleasant it was driving through one super long tunnel after the other along Lake Como -- Bill was especially unhappy with me for pointing out how awful it would be to be trapped in one of these tunnels during an earthquake. And how totally bizarre it was to arrive at our rental apartment to find only 100 year old nonnas to greet us before Maria finally answered the call and took us next door to our gorgeous two bedroom apartment on a hill overlooking the lake for miles in every direction.
We both feel full. There is nothing more Italy needs to provide for us. We are not coming home with a suitcase full of shoes or olive oil, just a few leaky truffle oil products and some vacuum packed porcini mushrooms and sundried tomatoes, and so many memories of a lifetime to cherish. And an extra 30 pounds between us!
Two more nights and then we begin the long flight home. I miss my dogs. I miss my little bean. It has been so gorgeous here and I am so grateful to have such a full life to come home to.
Caio!
Our drive from Verona to Vercana over two days was spectacular. Driving here is not as scary as we had imagined, says I from the navigators seat with Bill behind the wheel.
We have travelled through so many different landscapes on this trip -- Rome with its big ancient things with big things on top, the west coast with its blue water and pastel clusters of buildings, the rolling hills of Tuscany, a patchwork of gold and green crops, the forested hills of Chianti lined with vineyards and cypress trees, the canals of Venice, flat Abbotsfordesque highway stretch of Brescia, and the dramatic looming majestic mountains of the north.
The bread has changed with the regions too -- hard and stale throughout Tuscan (peasant bread), soft focaccia in Chianti, crispy bread sticks in Veneto. Olive oil is served with bread everywhere, but we only got balsamic vinegar in Rome and then again in Veneto and the north.
I'm struggling with this particular post. How do I portray just how jaw dropping the Dolomites were. Or how unpleasant it was driving through one super long tunnel after the other along Lake Como -- Bill was especially unhappy with me for pointing out how awful it would be to be trapped in one of these tunnels during an earthquake. And how totally bizarre it was to arrive at our rental apartment to find only 100 year old nonnas to greet us before Maria finally answered the call and took us next door to our gorgeous two bedroom apartment on a hill overlooking the lake for miles in every direction.
We both feel full. There is nothing more Italy needs to provide for us. We are not coming home with a suitcase full of shoes or olive oil, just a few leaky truffle oil products and some vacuum packed porcini mushrooms and sundried tomatoes, and so many memories of a lifetime to cherish. And an extra 30 pounds between us!
Two more nights and then we begin the long flight home. I miss my dogs. I miss my little bean. It has been so gorgeous here and I am so grateful to have such a full life to come home to.
Caio!
Catching up -- Soave and Borghetto
We left Salo this morning after an uninspired stay at a very serviceable inexpensive hotel in the centre of this small lakeside resort town.
After throwing ourselves on Donatella and Corrado for one last night in their lovely B&B, they recommended we check out the Soave Harvest Festival and perhaps il Parco del Sugato (the loveliest park in Italy and the second best in all of Europe, so they say) and the tiny village of Borgetto.
The festival in Soave was like any other Community event in any small town, except that it took place in the streets surrounding a medieval palace. It was strange and lovely. There was a line of carnival rides, mostly empty on this last day of a three day event following an intense thunderstorm the night before. The street was lined with vendors selling penny candy, tiny doughnuts, and cotton candy. One street was devoted to antiques (aka flea market junk) with an oddly abundant selection of creepy dolls; the second street featured tables teeming with arts and crafts in all their their homemade and awesome ridiculousness. There were food booths featuring risotto, truffles, and cheese (you could get a CONE of cheese for 5 E -- I resisted, but marvelled at the glory of such a magnificent idea!). The main attraction at the festival was a fountain out of which local white wine flowed freely all day. For three euro you got a little pouch to carry your wine glass and could fill up at the fountain as often as you wished all day. Once was enough for us... the wine was a little, young, as one might imagine free wine to be.
We spent an hour or so wandering past all the stalls, enjoying watching families do what they do and then hopped in the car for the 40 minute drive to Borghetto. As promised by Donatella, this little village nestled in the bend of a winding river was picture perfect. It was a busy Sunday with Weddings and a tour bus, so it was looking like we might be eating off the food truck after being turned away from the three lovely restaurants along the river. We tried one last cafe and were led to the hidden patio at the back right on the river. So lovely. And so nice to have a big green salad! After lunch, we climbed the 500 million steps up to another medieval castle with stunning views and then on to the park where we rented bikes and peddled around for an hour or so... The park was beautiful, though we missed the floral goodness that it must be earlier in the season.
We topped off the lovely day back at the little restaurant on the hill from the other evening. When we left in the morning...
Gotta help Bill navigate. Still catching up on the blog, but will get there. Enjoying every last minute.
Sunday, September 18, 2016
Please sir, can I have some more
As I started so reluctantly to pack, I asked Bill if it would be weird if I asked to stay one more night. Go for it... They said yes :o). It is too lovely to leave, so we are here for a third night.
Yesterday we explored the lovely city of Verona. It was busy, for sure, but it felt more like a local bustle than the frenzy of the tourist hubs of Rome, Florence, Venice, and Pisa. There were children and families with dogs everywhere and we just wandered in the sunshine looking up at big, beautiful things. We saw at least four weddings being photographed on picturesque bridges, and medieval walls overlooking the winding river. Verona is said to be the real life setting for the fictional tale of Romeo and Juliet. We did not visit Juliet's balcony as my mission at all times is to avoid crowds, but the city does have an inherent romance about it.
The rest of the day was like any other... More food... More wine... More loveliness.
Now that we are here for another day, I think we will truly take it easy. Maybe go for a wander in the countryside, maybe visit a winery or olive farm, maybe just nap and sip cappuccino.
Yesterday we explored the lovely city of Verona. It was busy, for sure, but it felt more like a local bustle than the frenzy of the tourist hubs of Rome, Florence, Venice, and Pisa. There were children and families with dogs everywhere and we just wandered in the sunshine looking up at big, beautiful things. We saw at least four weddings being photographed on picturesque bridges, and medieval walls overlooking the winding river. Verona is said to be the real life setting for the fictional tale of Romeo and Juliet. We did not visit Juliet's balcony as my mission at all times is to avoid crowds, but the city does have an inherent romance about it.
The rest of the day was like any other... More food... More wine... More loveliness.
Now that we are here for another day, I think we will truly take it easy. Maybe go for a wander in the countryside, maybe visit a winery or olive farm, maybe just nap and sip cappuccino.
Verona, il pozzo dell' amore
Sitting in bed after another delicious breakfast and a shower, looking out over hillsides of vineyards, the sound of church bells in the distance; trying to squeeze every last minute of bliss out of this place before we pack up and point our car in the direction of Lake Garda for the next leg of our journey.
If you had asked me what my perfect Italian experience would be, I wouldn't have been able to come up with anything nearly as beautiful as this. After a quick internet search at a cafe under an umbrella in Verona trying to hide from the rain, we found this place on booking.com and crossed our fingers. We drove the 30 minutes out of town and turned off on a country road, I said to Bill that this was what I was hoping for. We pulled in to where the GPS pointed us and thought it was strange that there was no sign, but we both got out in the torrential rain and scurried under our one tiny umbrella to the open front door where we were met with a very large, angry looking man with his shirt off. This seemed odd, for sure, but maybe they do things differently in the country. "Um," I started smiling, "are we in the right place?" He scowled and shook his head very slowly. "Oh, sorry, does this happen all the time," I said, still smiling. More scowling and Bill and I got it. Back in the car, out the narrow driveway, grateful he didn't do more than scowl at us, we followed the road less than a minute more and found the sign pointing up another long, narrow driveway. As soon as we pulled in, we knew this was perfect. Our hosts, Donatella and Corrado met us with warm smiles and showed us to our charming, spacious room.
We had a rest and a shower and then took Donatella's advice and went for a late dinner at a local place up in the hills that she recommended. We drove in the dark up a tiny winding road and, again, found it odd that there was no sign, but maybe that's how these country folk do things... A very nice lady came out of her gate and walked us next door to the restaurant (with a sign) and wished us well in Italian. The restaurant was on the ground floor of what appeared to be a private home. There were two other couples dining in the restaurant and two little girls playing in the front room. Everything was draped in red and green, and hearts were hanging in the archways as if there were a Valentine's celebration or maybe a Christmas wedding. I was in heaven. Our host was charming and we managed to order by pointing and smiling and enjoyed a perfect evening of the best hand made pasta we have tried yet (pumpkin ravioli, radicchio tortellini, and beet stuffed in something delicious), dripping in olive oil or butter, we couldn't tell. Oh my god, so good. We had intended on sharing one plate, but that got lost in translation, so we each ate a full plate of pasta, followed by scaloppine al fungi and the richest, smoothest house red. Full and happy, we made our way back to what I like to call home. And asked Corrado if we could please stay another night.
More on Verona and food later, I've got to pack and accept that we cannot live here forever.
If you had asked me what my perfect Italian experience would be, I wouldn't have been able to come up with anything nearly as beautiful as this. After a quick internet search at a cafe under an umbrella in Verona trying to hide from the rain, we found this place on booking.com and crossed our fingers. We drove the 30 minutes out of town and turned off on a country road, I said to Bill that this was what I was hoping for. We pulled in to where the GPS pointed us and thought it was strange that there was no sign, but we both got out in the torrential rain and scurried under our one tiny umbrella to the open front door where we were met with a very large, angry looking man with his shirt off. This seemed odd, for sure, but maybe they do things differently in the country. "Um," I started smiling, "are we in the right place?" He scowled and shook his head very slowly. "Oh, sorry, does this happen all the time," I said, still smiling. More scowling and Bill and I got it. Back in the car, out the narrow driveway, grateful he didn't do more than scowl at us, we followed the road less than a minute more and found the sign pointing up another long, narrow driveway. As soon as we pulled in, we knew this was perfect. Our hosts, Donatella and Corrado met us with warm smiles and showed us to our charming, spacious room.
We had a rest and a shower and then took Donatella's advice and went for a late dinner at a local place up in the hills that she recommended. We drove in the dark up a tiny winding road and, again, found it odd that there was no sign, but maybe that's how these country folk do things... A very nice lady came out of her gate and walked us next door to the restaurant (with a sign) and wished us well in Italian. The restaurant was on the ground floor of what appeared to be a private home. There were two other couples dining in the restaurant and two little girls playing in the front room. Everything was draped in red and green, and hearts were hanging in the archways as if there were a Valentine's celebration or maybe a Christmas wedding. I was in heaven. Our host was charming and we managed to order by pointing and smiling and enjoyed a perfect evening of the best hand made pasta we have tried yet (pumpkin ravioli, radicchio tortellini, and beet stuffed in something delicious), dripping in olive oil or butter, we couldn't tell. Oh my god, so good. We had intended on sharing one plate, but that got lost in translation, so we each ate a full plate of pasta, followed by scaloppine al fungi and the richest, smoothest house red. Full and happy, we made our way back to what I like to call home. And asked Corrado if we could please stay another night.
More on Verona and food later, I've got to pack and accept that we cannot live here forever.
Friday, September 16, 2016
On the road on our own
After our secret nights of Venice and gondola tour, which was fine, not spectacular (I think we are toured out, and our guide was no Figgy), but interesting and pretty to be wandering in the quieter district of Venice, we found a restaurant a little off the Venetian Robson Street and settled down for a late, serviceable, but mediocre meal.
This trip continues to be exactly like life, full of wonder and disappointment and surprise and introspection and shiny things and mundane and tired and fed up and glee. I'm not sure why I choose to blog my travel experiences as opposed to write them in a private journal... part of me thinks that the one or two readers that are following our journey might be disappointed that it is not all Disneyland, but I like it like that. It is real. And I like sharing all of me as I go because it will be impossible to answer the question, "So how was your trip?," when we get home. Anyway, dear reader (Vicki and mom ;o), I'm just going to continue to lay it all out there and capture it the best way I know how so that when I look back in years to come these few weeks can hopefully come alive again as a full experience.
Over dinner tonight Bill and I were trying to sum up Venice; to me Venice is like a beautiful young girl who has been snapped up and sold into prostitution. If you could just wash all the make up off and keep her safely away from the ones who want to exploit her, her beauty could shine through. There is no denying the uniqueness and charm of Venice. AND, as has been our experience in all of the destination spots so far, there is no escaping the commercialism and tourist traps. It's kind of like shopping at Winners, you've got to weed through a lot of crap to get to the gems.
One thing we learned on our tour was that the women back in the day (somewhere between the 13th and 19th century, I can't exactly remember when), strived to achieve the ideal beauty image of the time -- blond hair and skin as white as pearls. When you look at the Venetian skyline, you see lovely rooftop verandas on some of the homes. Women would sit in the sun on these verandas wearing a sombrero type hat that would shade their face so their skin would not darken. The top of the hat was cut out to expose their hair, which they had soaked in a lightening agent (camel urine) to bleach it. Arrrrgggggh! Even then, women striving for unrealistic ideals of beauty. Sigh.
Anyway... Lots of lovely, lots of not. And today!
We tromped through town with our suitcases in tow, got our four door, manual transmission, rental Fiat with our GPS that is only in Italian it turns out, and pointed toward Treviso. The sky was gloomy, gray and rainy, and the scenery was pretty boring, we could have been driving down the island highway, but we were both pretty excited to be on our own heading into this new solo leg of our adventure.
We found our way without too much trouble and decided to point to a restaurant that came recommended in an article we had read about why to stay in Treviso over Venice (Vicki, we should have read this article that you sent us before we booked Venice!).
Just so you know, right now, we are in our perfect room (I'll get to that soon), so full from another perfect meal (more on that later), and I have just taken a bite of biscotti made by our lovely B&B host Donatella, dipped into local Valpolicello Superiore from the neighbouring vineyard... Bill is groaning because he is so full, but just demanded that I hand him the entire bowl of biscotti because... Yes. And. Fuck it! Oh. So good.
Where was I... Treviso. The Trattoria, TONIdelSPIN was perfect in every way. We asked the waiter to recommend something for us to share, so we settled on a lovely pasta dish with shaved truffle, fried cheese with porcini mushrooms, and a mixed salad, and tiramisu for desert. We soaked up the ambiance, Bill's nose present in all of the tables around us (some families with small children, some people our age dining with elderly companions, maybe some business people), and Bill tried to wrap his head around being in this place where his family had come from so long ago. It was so beautiful.
After lunch we did our best to muscle up against the rain and poke around the town, but the rain was relentless and we had arrived during siesta -- all the shops and attractions were closed between noon and 3:30pm (the first time we have come across this, which indicates that this is the first non touristy place we have been) -- so we accepted the moment as complete and headed to our next stop, Verona, about 90 minutes drive away.
To make a long story short, we found the first bar with wifi (coffee shops are called bars here) and sat under an umbrella and searched for a place to stay for the night. Verona seems like a lovely town with lots to offer, but it's still raining, so after a quick internet search we settled on a place about 10km outside of town that seemed like it would be lovely (but I never quite trust the Internet). Ca dei Coci B&B is perfect in every way.
This trip continues to be exactly like life, full of wonder and disappointment and surprise and introspection and shiny things and mundane and tired and fed up and glee. I'm not sure why I choose to blog my travel experiences as opposed to write them in a private journal... part of me thinks that the one or two readers that are following our journey might be disappointed that it is not all Disneyland, but I like it like that. It is real. And I like sharing all of me as I go because it will be impossible to answer the question, "So how was your trip?," when we get home. Anyway, dear reader (Vicki and mom ;o), I'm just going to continue to lay it all out there and capture it the best way I know how so that when I look back in years to come these few weeks can hopefully come alive again as a full experience.
Over dinner tonight Bill and I were trying to sum up Venice; to me Venice is like a beautiful young girl who has been snapped up and sold into prostitution. If you could just wash all the make up off and keep her safely away from the ones who want to exploit her, her beauty could shine through. There is no denying the uniqueness and charm of Venice. AND, as has been our experience in all of the destination spots so far, there is no escaping the commercialism and tourist traps. It's kind of like shopping at Winners, you've got to weed through a lot of crap to get to the gems.
One thing we learned on our tour was that the women back in the day (somewhere between the 13th and 19th century, I can't exactly remember when), strived to achieve the ideal beauty image of the time -- blond hair and skin as white as pearls. When you look at the Venetian skyline, you see lovely rooftop verandas on some of the homes. Women would sit in the sun on these verandas wearing a sombrero type hat that would shade their face so their skin would not darken. The top of the hat was cut out to expose their hair, which they had soaked in a lightening agent (camel urine) to bleach it. Arrrrgggggh! Even then, women striving for unrealistic ideals of beauty. Sigh.
Anyway... Lots of lovely, lots of not. And today!
We tromped through town with our suitcases in tow, got our four door, manual transmission, rental Fiat with our GPS that is only in Italian it turns out, and pointed toward Treviso. The sky was gloomy, gray and rainy, and the scenery was pretty boring, we could have been driving down the island highway, but we were both pretty excited to be on our own heading into this new solo leg of our adventure.
We found our way without too much trouble and decided to point to a restaurant that came recommended in an article we had read about why to stay in Treviso over Venice (Vicki, we should have read this article that you sent us before we booked Venice!).
Just so you know, right now, we are in our perfect room (I'll get to that soon), so full from another perfect meal (more on that later), and I have just taken a bite of biscotti made by our lovely B&B host Donatella, dipped into local Valpolicello Superiore from the neighbouring vineyard... Bill is groaning because he is so full, but just demanded that I hand him the entire bowl of biscotti because... Yes. And. Fuck it! Oh. So good.
Where was I... Treviso. The Trattoria, TONIdelSPIN was perfect in every way. We asked the waiter to recommend something for us to share, so we settled on a lovely pasta dish with shaved truffle, fried cheese with porcini mushrooms, and a mixed salad, and tiramisu for desert. We soaked up the ambiance, Bill's nose present in all of the tables around us (some families with small children, some people our age dining with elderly companions, maybe some business people), and Bill tried to wrap his head around being in this place where his family had come from so long ago. It was so beautiful.
After lunch we did our best to muscle up against the rain and poke around the town, but the rain was relentless and we had arrived during siesta -- all the shops and attractions were closed between noon and 3:30pm (the first time we have come across this, which indicates that this is the first non touristy place we have been) -- so we accepted the moment as complete and headed to our next stop, Verona, about 90 minutes drive away.
To make a long story short, we found the first bar with wifi (coffee shops are called bars here) and sat under an umbrella and searched for a place to stay for the night. Verona seems like a lovely town with lots to offer, but it's still raining, so after a quick internet search we settled on a place about 10km outside of town that seemed like it would be lovely (but I never quite trust the Internet). Ca dei Coci B&B is perfect in every way.
Thursday, September 15, 2016
Venice
We hopped off the train in Venice, feeling quite pleased with ourselves for making it on our own without the safety of the group and the direction of our guide. Venice was not at all what I expected. I thought there were no cars in Venice. And the directions to the hotel said to keep the canal on our right. Hmmm. We stopped in front of the African/Asian Restaurant to check the directions on Bill's phone since what I copied from the website didn't seem to be working. No matter how many times we turned the data on and off, the GPS still said that our location was a 4 hour walk to the hotel. God damned thing isn't working.
Oh.
We finally sorted out that we had gotten off at the wrong station. So we tromped back through the streets with our luggage and waited in line for customer service. I got to the counter after a 10 minute wait or so and the lady said that I needed a number. Damn it. So I walked the 10 feet back to the number machine, got my ticket and walked back to the counter, my number was up. Way to stick to the rules grumpy Italian customer service rep. Anyway she told us just to hop on the next train in platform one. So we did and after a minute or two of uncertainty whether we were going in the right direction, we were relieved to see water all around us and the stunning domes in the skyline ahead of us.
We followed the walking directions from Bill's gps down winding narrow corridors with a slight pee smell in the air and did find our hotel quit quickly. Our green and red and gold and pink room in all it's Venetian gaudy gorgeousness is perfect.
We tromped around for a bit and stopped to have an antipasto and apertivo to get our bearings straight. I looked across the table to see Bill looking mesmerized with a tear in his eye, "Holy shit, does that ever look like my dad." We watched this man wait with his adorable grandson for at least a half and hour while we ate bruschetta and olives and felt like we had just now landed in Italy. We watched locals walk home with their dogs and have seen more Italians here than any of the other regions we have visited so far.
More wandering over little bridges down tiny streets, peeking in shop windows with Murano glass, carnival masks, patisseries, and other delights. I was getting hot and sticky and a bit fussy, ready for dinner. We settled on a little outdoor bar with wine barrels for tables and a perfect waiter that told us exactly what to order. I looked to my right and saw the nearly full yellow moon perfectly placed in the centre of stunning architecture, over a bridge in the warm night sky. An exquisite evening.
--------------------------
This morning as Bill was getting dressed he pulled out his plaid short sleeved shirt. Exactly the shirt that the man with the boy was wearing yesterday. A sign? Who knows, but we took a picture to show the resemblence. It is so clear in the features of the locals that Bill's roots are here. That man with his grandson has made the trip that much more special.
We headed out for our day of more wandering through more little alleyways and bridges to St. Mark's Square, which is jaw dropping. The wind and clouds of the quickly approaching storm added to the drama of it all and also helped to clear some of the crowds as they fled for cover. We walked slowly back home in the rain to our hotel where we are relaxing until our "Secret Nights of Venice and gondola ride" Tour tonight. Not sure that it will go because of the storm, but fingers crossed.
Oh.
We finally sorted out that we had gotten off at the wrong station. So we tromped back through the streets with our luggage and waited in line for customer service. I got to the counter after a 10 minute wait or so and the lady said that I needed a number. Damn it. So I walked the 10 feet back to the number machine, got my ticket and walked back to the counter, my number was up. Way to stick to the rules grumpy Italian customer service rep. Anyway she told us just to hop on the next train in platform one. So we did and after a minute or two of uncertainty whether we were going in the right direction, we were relieved to see water all around us and the stunning domes in the skyline ahead of us.
We followed the walking directions from Bill's gps down winding narrow corridors with a slight pee smell in the air and did find our hotel quit quickly. Our green and red and gold and pink room in all it's Venetian gaudy gorgeousness is perfect.
We tromped around for a bit and stopped to have an antipasto and apertivo to get our bearings straight. I looked across the table to see Bill looking mesmerized with a tear in his eye, "Holy shit, does that ever look like my dad." We watched this man wait with his adorable grandson for at least a half and hour while we ate bruschetta and olives and felt like we had just now landed in Italy. We watched locals walk home with their dogs and have seen more Italians here than any of the other regions we have visited so far.
More wandering over little bridges down tiny streets, peeking in shop windows with Murano glass, carnival masks, patisseries, and other delights. I was getting hot and sticky and a bit fussy, ready for dinner. We settled on a little outdoor bar with wine barrels for tables and a perfect waiter that told us exactly what to order. I looked to my right and saw the nearly full yellow moon perfectly placed in the centre of stunning architecture, over a bridge in the warm night sky. An exquisite evening.
--------------------------
This morning as Bill was getting dressed he pulled out his plaid short sleeved shirt. Exactly the shirt that the man with the boy was wearing yesterday. A sign? Who knows, but we took a picture to show the resemblence. It is so clear in the features of the locals that Bill's roots are here. That man with his grandson has made the trip that much more special.
We headed out for our day of more wandering through more little alleyways and bridges to St. Mark's Square, which is jaw dropping. The wind and clouds of the quickly approaching storm added to the drama of it all and also helped to clear some of the crowds as they fled for cover. We walked slowly back home in the rain to our hotel where we are relaxing until our "Secret Nights of Venice and gondola ride" Tour tonight. Not sure that it will go because of the storm, but fingers crossed.
Wednesday, September 14, 2016
Pasta, Pool, and Firenze
Sitting in bed in our lovely, modern, expensive hotel room in Florence (Firenze)... so happy to have said goodbye to the Backroads Tour group yesterday. Don't get me wrong, we met some lovely people and saw and learned about such amazing and beautiful things, but anyone that knows me knows I am a solitary creature. And, holy shit, the crowds! My Auntie Cay told me it would be busy, but I didn't picture it like this. So. Many. People. It's like PNE or Vegas busy in all the popular spots. Our last two days at the Villa away from the crowds were so dreamy. We are going to try to find either a Villa or an Agritourismo spot to spend a few more quiet days after Venice.
Our cooking class lead by Chef Frederico at the Villa Palagina was a blast. We made focaccia and hand cut pasta (flour and eggs, who knew it was so easy?). Eighteen adults playing with dough sipping pink prosecco makes for a perfect afternoon and lots of laughs! We prepared the bread and the noodles and Frederico cooked and served it to us for lunch. The bread was yummy, the pasta left a little to be desired. After lunch Bill and I spent a lazy afternoon by the pool overlooking the Tuscan landscape. Absolute heaven. Then our last supper together as a group, which was lovely. I chose a bottle of wine that was a couple of dollars more than the house, but it was organic and came from neighbouring Sting's winery. So delicious. Mmmm. A couple people around us tried it and ordered more of the same. It's amazing the difference a couple of Euros can make... Or so we thought... Until we paid the bill the next day. Oops. I pointed to the wine that was a couple of dollars more, what we got was the one above the one I pointed to. Turns out if you spend twice as much as the house, you get quite a lovely experience.
Back in the bus yesterday morning for the last time. An hour drive to Florence and a city walking tour lead by a lovely local guide. Then hugs and well wishes all around and Bill and I taxied off to our hotel for a nap before our sunset Uffizi Gallery Tour.
The Medici family ruled Firenze for 300 years and were great patrons of the arts. The last daughter of the bloodline (childless) wrote a will at the age of 73 leaving all of the great works of art and the palace to the city of Florence. What a gift.
Standing before the works of Michael Angelo, Bottecelli, Raphaelo, Caravaggio, and Leonardo De Vinci is indescribable. I get it now. Every strand of hair in Bottecelli's Venus and the shimmer of the robes and the softness of the skin in Michelangelo's Tondi Doni, and the face of the old man that you want to reach out and touch it looks so real in the nameless piece by the unknown student of Caravaggio made me want to weep. Sigh. Such beauty.
And then we left the gallery to our prepaid set dinner that came with the tour... It sounded so lovely in the brochure. Our first big tourist trap mistake. Such terrible food. Such terrible service. Oh well. The gorgeousness we've experienced so far will carry us easily past one shitty meal.
Next stop Venice.
Our cooking class lead by Chef Frederico at the Villa Palagina was a blast. We made focaccia and hand cut pasta (flour and eggs, who knew it was so easy?). Eighteen adults playing with dough sipping pink prosecco makes for a perfect afternoon and lots of laughs! We prepared the bread and the noodles and Frederico cooked and served it to us for lunch. The bread was yummy, the pasta left a little to be desired. After lunch Bill and I spent a lazy afternoon by the pool overlooking the Tuscan landscape. Absolute heaven. Then our last supper together as a group, which was lovely. I chose a bottle of wine that was a couple of dollars more than the house, but it was organic and came from neighbouring Sting's winery. So delicious. Mmmm. A couple people around us tried it and ordered more of the same. It's amazing the difference a couple of Euros can make... Or so we thought... Until we paid the bill the next day. Oops. I pointed to the wine that was a couple of dollars more, what we got was the one above the one I pointed to. Turns out if you spend twice as much as the house, you get quite a lovely experience.
Back in the bus yesterday morning for the last time. An hour drive to Florence and a city walking tour lead by a lovely local guide. Then hugs and well wishes all around and Bill and I taxied off to our hotel for a nap before our sunset Uffizi Gallery Tour.
The Medici family ruled Firenze for 300 years and were great patrons of the arts. The last daughter of the bloodline (childless) wrote a will at the age of 73 leaving all of the great works of art and the palace to the city of Florence. What a gift.
Standing before the works of Michael Angelo, Bottecelli, Raphaelo, Caravaggio, and Leonardo De Vinci is indescribable. I get it now. Every strand of hair in Bottecelli's Venus and the shimmer of the robes and the softness of the skin in Michelangelo's Tondi Doni, and the face of the old man that you want to reach out and touch it looks so real in the nameless piece by the unknown student of Caravaggio made me want to weep. Sigh. Such beauty.
And then we left the gallery to our prepaid set dinner that came with the tour... It sounded so lovely in the brochure. Our first big tourist trap mistake. Such terrible food. Such terrible service. Oh well. The gorgeousness we've experienced so far will carry us easily past one shitty meal.
Next stop Venice.
Monday, September 12, 2016
Villa in Chianti
I'm sitting in bed on a lovely morning in Chianti. It is slightly cooler up in this region as we are higher up in the hills. The landscape has changed from rolling fields of crops to forests of oak, pine, and the trees that cork comes from (can't remember the name)... And vineyards. Our home for the last two nights of our tour with Backroads is in this glorious villa with two horizon pools overlooking the hills of Chianti. Sting is our next door neighbour with the villa next door, and by next door I mean a kilometre and a half away. Dario said, "we might not see him, but he always leaves a message in a bottle for us." Ah, tour guide humour.
It has been such a beautiful experience so far, though, I must admit that this introvert has had about as much human contact as I can handle. So I am hiding in my room for another hour until our group cooking class, which I am so looking forward to... I just wish it were private! Wherever you go, there you are... I wish I could leave my personality behind sometimes and call upon my inner social butterfly more easily.
The morning at the farm yesterday was so dreamy for me. It is owned by a Swiss family who fled the cold winters of Switzerland 25 years ago to become farmers, a totally new venture for them. They started with 4 sheep and have grown to 140 sheep, some goats, a couple of donkeys, a few chickens and two or three peacocks. They produce gorgeous cheese. Grow olives and grapes to produce organic olive oil and wine. They grow wheat to make their own pasta for their restaurant. And host tours every Sunday to supplement their income. Farming is hard work and a financial struggle with weather, pests, predators and the market to battle. They will try their luck with saffron, which can have great returns if all goes well. Fingers crossed.
Ulysses (not his real name, but I've forgotten it and he said a lot of people call him Ulysses mistakenly, so it will work for the purpose of this entry) spoke with such passion about the hardships of farming and the deep connection food has to the land, environment, diet and well being of the animals on any given day. When lambs are born, they stay with the mothers for four weeks, which is a huge investment in the happiness of the animals. I love that. He is willing to give up four weeks of milk from the ewes.... He described an arrangement with the animals, he gives them a good life, good nutrition, homeopathic care and they give him food or milk or wool. He reminded me of Carmen and Glenn and their passion for organic, local food production.
They have just switched to machine milking, though Ulysses prefers the shepard's way... He would go out into the pasture, catch a sheep and hold it between his legs and milk it bending forward. He described his strong back and showed us his muscular hands. The kids can't do it. This generation is soft.
.......................
Off to make pasta and focaccia for lunch, then a leisurely afternoon by the pool and maybe a bike ride in the hills before our final group dinner tonight.
It has been such a beautiful experience so far, though, I must admit that this introvert has had about as much human contact as I can handle. So I am hiding in my room for another hour until our group cooking class, which I am so looking forward to... I just wish it were private! Wherever you go, there you are... I wish I could leave my personality behind sometimes and call upon my inner social butterfly more easily.
The morning at the farm yesterday was so dreamy for me. It is owned by a Swiss family who fled the cold winters of Switzerland 25 years ago to become farmers, a totally new venture for them. They started with 4 sheep and have grown to 140 sheep, some goats, a couple of donkeys, a few chickens and two or three peacocks. They produce gorgeous cheese. Grow olives and grapes to produce organic olive oil and wine. They grow wheat to make their own pasta for their restaurant. And host tours every Sunday to supplement their income. Farming is hard work and a financial struggle with weather, pests, predators and the market to battle. They will try their luck with saffron, which can have great returns if all goes well. Fingers crossed.
Ulysses (not his real name, but I've forgotten it and he said a lot of people call him Ulysses mistakenly, so it will work for the purpose of this entry) spoke with such passion about the hardships of farming and the deep connection food has to the land, environment, diet and well being of the animals on any given day. When lambs are born, they stay with the mothers for four weeks, which is a huge investment in the happiness of the animals. I love that. He is willing to give up four weeks of milk from the ewes.... He described an arrangement with the animals, he gives them a good life, good nutrition, homeopathic care and they give him food or milk or wool. He reminded me of Carmen and Glenn and their passion for organic, local food production.
They have just switched to machine milking, though Ulysses prefers the shepard's way... He would go out into the pasture, catch a sheep and hold it between his legs and milk it bending forward. He described his strong back and showed us his muscular hands. The kids can't do it. This generation is soft.
.......................
Off to make pasta and focaccia for lunch, then a leisurely afternoon by the pool and maybe a bike ride in the hills before our final group dinner tonight.
Sunday, September 11, 2016
Winding roads, winding thoughts
Driving along windy roads through the Tuscan countryside with a group of strangers, most napping after a lunch of locally produced organic cheese and wine, listening to soft Italian music... Feeling grateful and a bit melancholy. We can only get to this moment by passing through every other moment life presents us with.
The morning was spent on a working farm...
9-11 fifteen years ago was a very different experience. North America had just been shocked to the core, I was in a feverish romance with Terry, raising two young boys. Today, a widow, a grandmother, and another lovely romance. You never know what life has to show you next. See beautiful things. Eat delicious things. And connect with beautiful people. Please.
Saturday, September 10, 2016
Siena and Pienza
How have I never heard of Sienna? Home to the most spectacular cathedral in Italy, perhaps even all of Europe according to Dario. Absolutely breathtaking.
My meager 8Gb storage in my phone has left me camera-less, which is a blessing as it turns out. Normally I would be looking for the perfect angle to frame the perfect shot, but for this trip, I am just soaking it all in.
Please come to Siena! The Florentine's really know how to create beauty! I won't even begin to try and describe this cathedral (Google it), but Mamma Mia, it is spectacular. Home to Donatello's first bronze sculpture in the new style showing movement and facial expressions. Also home to Raphael frescos galore and Michael Angelo sculptures. And the floors. Mamma Mia! Dario said we were very lucky to see the floors, as they are covered 10 months of the year to preserve them. I can't believe I stood in that kind of beauty. We were hustled through as part of the local walking tour pretty quickly, but the guide said we could go back and just tell them we wanted to go to the bookstore. Bill and I went back and spent another hour at our own pace soaking it all in with very few people around. Honestly, my advice would be to skip the Vatican all together and come to Siena.
Siena was also home to St. Catherine and houses two relics. Our elegant guide, Claudia, said that Siena had a good relationship with Rome and even though the body of St. Catherine is in Rome, they were kind enough to send two relics... Her head and her thumb. Yep, that's what I said. They waxed the tiny mummified head to preserve it and have it and the thumb on display in the church of Saint Catherine. Oh my god... Hard to believe that that's a thing, but there you have it.
The drive from Siena to Pienza, where we are now for one night was so beautiful (again, Bill has pictures). Pienza is Dario's favourite village in Tuscany. Famous for pecorino cheese and pici pasta which we will try tonight.
I asked Bill what we did yesterday and in looking over the pictures, we remembered wandering around the charming San Gimangnano, where the final scene from Tea With Mussolini was filmed, and looking at lovely things. San Gimangnano used to have 70 towers, until it was conquered by the Florentine's and the Medici family wanted to show there was a new power in town, so destroyed all but 13. While Volterra is one of the only intact original walled cities from the Middle Ages, much of San Gimangnano had to be rebuilt after being bombed badly in WWII.
More tidbits from Dario on the bus ride between towns:
Corruption in Italy is everywhere. One leader appointed his Dental Hygenist to President of the Lombardi region to show his appreciation for the excellent ladies she found for the "banga banga parties."
The winding road we are travelling on is very popular with cyclists and motor cyclists. But, "if you ask me there is too much cheating in cycling. I don't like it," says Dario.
Olive trees take 5 years to grow before the first harvest, but can live forever. There are some trees that are known to be over 1000 years old. Amazing.
Last thing. My birthday dinner last night. Dario asked us if we wanted to go to the sunset restaurant or a couple of other choices. Of course we chose the restaurant with the sunset view. Of course so did everyone else. We got a quiet table away from the group. And then the band started playing in the square in front of the restaurant. I did not know the accordion could be an essential instrument in a rock group. This young band belted out Personal Jesus and Rage Against the Machine like nobody's business. Jesus. So. Loud. So. Ridiculous and awesome.
My meager 8Gb storage in my phone has left me camera-less, which is a blessing as it turns out. Normally I would be looking for the perfect angle to frame the perfect shot, but for this trip, I am just soaking it all in.
Please come to Siena! The Florentine's really know how to create beauty! I won't even begin to try and describe this cathedral (Google it), but Mamma Mia, it is spectacular. Home to Donatello's first bronze sculpture in the new style showing movement and facial expressions. Also home to Raphael frescos galore and Michael Angelo sculptures. And the floors. Mamma Mia! Dario said we were very lucky to see the floors, as they are covered 10 months of the year to preserve them. I can't believe I stood in that kind of beauty. We were hustled through as part of the local walking tour pretty quickly, but the guide said we could go back and just tell them we wanted to go to the bookstore. Bill and I went back and spent another hour at our own pace soaking it all in with very few people around. Honestly, my advice would be to skip the Vatican all together and come to Siena.
Siena was also home to St. Catherine and houses two relics. Our elegant guide, Claudia, said that Siena had a good relationship with Rome and even though the body of St. Catherine is in Rome, they were kind enough to send two relics... Her head and her thumb. Yep, that's what I said. They waxed the tiny mummified head to preserve it and have it and the thumb on display in the church of Saint Catherine. Oh my god... Hard to believe that that's a thing, but there you have it.
The drive from Siena to Pienza, where we are now for one night was so beautiful (again, Bill has pictures). Pienza is Dario's favourite village in Tuscany. Famous for pecorino cheese and pici pasta which we will try tonight.
I asked Bill what we did yesterday and in looking over the pictures, we remembered wandering around the charming San Gimangnano, where the final scene from Tea With Mussolini was filmed, and looking at lovely things. San Gimangnano used to have 70 towers, until it was conquered by the Florentine's and the Medici family wanted to show there was a new power in town, so destroyed all but 13. While Volterra is one of the only intact original walled cities from the Middle Ages, much of San Gimangnano had to be rebuilt after being bombed badly in WWII.
More tidbits from Dario on the bus ride between towns:
Corruption in Italy is everywhere. One leader appointed his Dental Hygenist to President of the Lombardi region to show his appreciation for the excellent ladies she found for the "banga banga parties."
The winding road we are travelling on is very popular with cyclists and motor cyclists. But, "if you ask me there is too much cheating in cycling. I don't like it," says Dario.
Olive trees take 5 years to grow before the first harvest, but can live forever. There are some trees that are known to be over 1000 years old. Amazing.
Last thing. My birthday dinner last night. Dario asked us if we wanted to go to the sunset restaurant or a couple of other choices. Of course we chose the restaurant with the sunset view. Of course so did everyone else. We got a quiet table away from the group. And then the band started playing in the square in front of the restaurant. I did not know the accordion could be an essential instrument in a rock group. This young band belted out Personal Jesus and Rage Against the Machine like nobody's business. Jesus. So. Loud. So. Ridiculous and awesome.
Friday, September 9, 2016
Oozing with charm
This picturesque midieval walled towns are beginning to blend into each other. Each is oozing with charm, and cheese!
Today is my birthday, not a bad place to turn 48 if you ask me. We are in Volterra for one more night staying in what was once a convent. The long hallways are lit with antique chandeliers and the room is scented with the most horrific air freshener imaginable. We opened the windows and cranked the air conditioner to try and air out the place. I was quite pleased with myself when I found the two Glad plug in culprits and put them in the fridge where the odour couldn't escape!
More later... Off for an aperol spritz apertivo before my sunset birthday dinner. Bill steam ironed my clothes, as he does everyday. Feeling spoiled and loved.
Today is my birthday, not a bad place to turn 48 if you ask me. We are in Volterra for one more night staying in what was once a convent. The long hallways are lit with antique chandeliers and the room is scented with the most horrific air freshener imaginable. We opened the windows and cranked the air conditioner to try and air out the place. I was quite pleased with myself when I found the two Glad plug in culprits and put them in the fridge where the odour couldn't escape!
More later... Off for an aperol spritz apertivo before my sunset birthday dinner. Bill steam ironed my clothes, as he does everyday. Feeling spoiled and loved.
Thursday, September 8, 2016
A perfect day - Pisa, Volterra m
We loaded the bus for the hour or so journey from Lucca to Pisa. On the way we passed by fields of sunflower, a little passed their yellow prime soon ready for harvest; and birch tree paper farms, olive groves and general agricultural loveliness.
We drove through La Sterza, Andrea Bocelli's home town where he returns to play a concert every year. His family is very important to this small town as one might imagine. Young Bocelli's success afforded the family to start a winery and a successful Tractor company, wealth builds wealth as our guide said.
Dario, our guide, gives us little tid bits as the wheels on the bus go round and round in between stops (we will never have longer than a 90 minute bus ride on this tour which is perfect). Here's one, "Something silly, but it's what we say, wave at a flock of white sheep for good luck, bring money. But don't do it at the black sheep or bad luck. It's silly, but it's what we say." Also, "Something funny about this midieval town is the torture museum...." He is always saying, "something funny for me," so charming.
Our first stop was Pisa. Pisa is not only home to the tower, but a very important financial sector in Italy and home to a world class university for Economics. We turned the corner to the sight of a sea of tour busses. Dario had warned us it was pretty commercial, but holy shit, what a zoo. We clambered off the bus and boarded our private little MacDonald's train bus for the 5 minute ride to the gates. Hoards of people, but a stunning square, majestic white buildings against blue sky on green grass. I can imagine how beautiful it would have been on a quiet day. No such luck for us. We took the obligatory hold up the tower pics. So ridiculous, seeing people lined up from all over the world looking at this marvel of artistry and history, all striking the same pose of pointy finger out or outstretched hand or some other such thing. Along with the beauty and the madness of it all, you can't help but imagine what it took to build such monstrosities. We all agreed that yes, these are masterpieces. And we couldn't imagine the slave labour that went into the construction. So much horror and beauty in our history.
After a quick hour and 20 minutes in Pisa, we were back on the bus headed down the most picturesque roads passing by the rolling green and gold Tuscan landscape to a little Agritourismo organic farm where we had a perfect lunch of local cheeses, cheese fondue meats, spelt salad, green salad, bread, local wine, coffee and cake. And great conversation. A perfect afternoon.
Full and happy, we continued on for another 15 minutes to Volterra, which I'll tell you about later... Gotta run for the bus!
We drove through La Sterza, Andrea Bocelli's home town where he returns to play a concert every year. His family is very important to this small town as one might imagine. Young Bocelli's success afforded the family to start a winery and a successful Tractor company, wealth builds wealth as our guide said.
Dario, our guide, gives us little tid bits as the wheels on the bus go round and round in between stops (we will never have longer than a 90 minute bus ride on this tour which is perfect). Here's one, "Something silly, but it's what we say, wave at a flock of white sheep for good luck, bring money. But don't do it at the black sheep or bad luck. It's silly, but it's what we say." Also, "Something funny about this midieval town is the torture museum...." He is always saying, "something funny for me," so charming.
Our first stop was Pisa. Pisa is not only home to the tower, but a very important financial sector in Italy and home to a world class university for Economics. We turned the corner to the sight of a sea of tour busses. Dario had warned us it was pretty commercial, but holy shit, what a zoo. We clambered off the bus and boarded our private little MacDonald's train bus for the 5 minute ride to the gates. Hoards of people, but a stunning square, majestic white buildings against blue sky on green grass. I can imagine how beautiful it would have been on a quiet day. No such luck for us. We took the obligatory hold up the tower pics. So ridiculous, seeing people lined up from all over the world looking at this marvel of artistry and history, all striking the same pose of pointy finger out or outstretched hand or some other such thing. Along with the beauty and the madness of it all, you can't help but imagine what it took to build such monstrosities. We all agreed that yes, these are masterpieces. And we couldn't imagine the slave labour that went into the construction. So much horror and beauty in our history.
After a quick hour and 20 minutes in Pisa, we were back on the bus headed down the most picturesque roads passing by the rolling green and gold Tuscan landscape to a little Agritourismo organic farm where we had a perfect lunch of local cheeses, cheese fondue meats, spelt salad, green salad, bread, local wine, coffee and cake. And great conversation. A perfect afternoon.
Full and happy, we continued on for another 15 minutes to Volterra, which I'll tell you about later... Gotta run for the bus!
Wednesday, September 7, 2016
Cinque Terr
An hour drive from Lucca to catch the ferry to Cinque Terre for a magical, albeit crowded, ride on royal blue water past pink, yellow, red, and blue painted hillside villages to the fourth village where we disembarked. Names escape me at the moment, but we stopped in the V village and took the hike to the M village, maybe Bill got the names on fb.
Oh, worth mentioning, on the bus ride we passed the quarry where Michael Angelo would select his marble. They have been mining this mountain for marble for over 600 years. We keep hearing about the "greenies" stalling the economy.
The first village we poked around in was charming, but crawling with people. We passed stalls with gorgeous linen, lovely paintings, and the usual kitschy tacky touristy crap. We each had a bruschetta -- mine with fig and some other gorgeousness, and then we had a cone of squid and prawns -- yum! Next was a 90 minute hike to the next village (think Grouse Grind in 30 degrees). Tough, but vistas to die for, completely worth the sweat! Bill will post pics. At about the 3/4 mark, we heard Whitney Houston belting out How Will I Know as we headed down steep steps, passing tired and weary tourists scrambling up. The source of the music was a tiny stall with an enthusiastic farmer serving homemade Limoncello and lemonade, water, and natural grapes from his vineyard for 2E each. I am sure he is getting rich one twoonie at a time. He was charming and brilliant, and made a mean lemonade!
A little further down the trail was an old guy playing the accordion with his little dog sleeping on his back in the case... Could not tell if the dog was real or stuffed... was a little ...
Finally, we reached the end and passed a hotel with a horizon pool with the most spectacular view. There was no one around the pool, so I imagine it must cost a pretty penny. We didn't have our bathing suits with us and did a quick little look in a couple of shops to see if we could pick one up for cheap, but of course, nothing is cheap in Italy (except wine), so we settled for dipping our tired legs up to our knees in the gorgeous waters. Then a mediocre lunch of local fare (stuffed anchovies, unusual, but delicious) and stuffed muscles (meh, bready and bland).
A short train ride, showing off pictures of our dogs with one of our travel companions, and then a nap on the bus ride home. More napping back at the hotel and then a lovely opera performance. Lucca is the birthplace of Puccini.
Oops, gotta run catch the bus. Off to Pisa.
Oh, worth mentioning, on the bus ride we passed the quarry where Michael Angelo would select his marble. They have been mining this mountain for marble for over 600 years. We keep hearing about the "greenies" stalling the economy.
The first village we poked around in was charming, but crawling with people. We passed stalls with gorgeous linen, lovely paintings, and the usual kitschy tacky touristy crap. We each had a bruschetta -- mine with fig and some other gorgeousness, and then we had a cone of squid and prawns -- yum! Next was a 90 minute hike to the next village (think Grouse Grind in 30 degrees). Tough, but vistas to die for, completely worth the sweat! Bill will post pics. At about the 3/4 mark, we heard Whitney Houston belting out How Will I Know as we headed down steep steps, passing tired and weary tourists scrambling up. The source of the music was a tiny stall with an enthusiastic farmer serving homemade Limoncello and lemonade, water, and natural grapes from his vineyard for 2E each. I am sure he is getting rich one twoonie at a time. He was charming and brilliant, and made a mean lemonade!
A little further down the trail was an old guy playing the accordion with his little dog sleeping on his back in the case... Could not tell if the dog was real or stuffed... was a little ...
Finally, we reached the end and passed a hotel with a horizon pool with the most spectacular view. There was no one around the pool, so I imagine it must cost a pretty penny. We didn't have our bathing suits with us and did a quick little look in a couple of shops to see if we could pick one up for cheap, but of course, nothing is cheap in Italy (except wine), so we settled for dipping our tired legs up to our knees in the gorgeous waters. Then a mediocre lunch of local fare (stuffed anchovies, unusual, but delicious) and stuffed muscles (meh, bready and bland).
A short train ride, showing off pictures of our dogs with one of our travel companions, and then a nap on the bus ride home. More napping back at the hotel and then a lovely opera performance. Lucca is the birthplace of Puccini.
Oops, gotta run catch the bus. Off to Pisa.
Tuesday, September 6, 2016
Can't Possibly Capture it a
Random morning thoughts...
Oh my god, the figs. Had my first fresh Fig here yesterday and intend to seek them out everywhere I go from here on!
Bill really wants to love the bidday (sp?), which has been the source of many chuckles from me as I hear splashing and knocking about in the bathroom. He mostly comes out tired, muttering, that was a lot of work. The David and Goliath of the European bathroom!
Pillows are very flat here. I have nothing more to say about that, just another thing I've noticed.
Oh, the boots. Fell in love with a pair yesterday that have not yet made it into my suitcase... but some will, to be sure!
Cinque Terre today and the opera tonight. More splendor awaits!
Oh my god, the figs. Had my first fresh Fig here yesterday and intend to seek them out everywhere I go from here on!
Bill really wants to love the bidday (sp?), which has been the source of many chuckles from me as I hear splashing and knocking about in the bathroom. He mostly comes out tired, muttering, that was a lot of work. The David and Goliath of the European bathroom!
Pillows are very flat here. I have nothing more to say about that, just another thing I've noticed.
Oh, the boots. Fell in love with a pair yesterday that have not yet made it into my suitcase... but some will, to be sure!
Cinque Terre today and the opera tonight. More splendor awaits!
Lucca
Lucca
Our 8 day journey with 17 strangers begins today in Florence. We met at the Hotel Roma after a dicey morning of me with an odd pulled belly button muscle (what the hell) and tummy cramps (goddammit, I am so done with this reproductive female bullshit!). But soon after we rolled our luggage down the cobbled streets to the piazza where we would meet with our group, everything settled and the excitement set in again.
We are traveling for the next 8 days on a the Backroads Tuscan Treats tour with a bunch of Australians, 2 kiwis, 1 American and our charming Italian guide, Dario.
Our first stop this morning was the town of Montecarlo (not the gambling Montecarlo, but the tiny one). We had a lovely cafe macchiato caldo and a pane al cioccolato while we soaked up the charm of this sweet town in the middle of wine country. It took about a minute and a half to walk the two streets and snap pictures of the resident cat and try to get a smile out of the grumpy old man and hunched Italian nonna.
Then on to Lucca, a midieval walled city in Tuscany, oozing with charm. Everyday is so full, even jotting these notes is a bit of a blur, there is so much to experience. So impressions from today:
I keep hearing the sounds of horse and carriages clomping along these narrow cobbled streets. I can almost feel the splash of buckets as I imagine people emptying their wash basins from upper floors of apartments. We are staying in what was once a brothel house (the day after tomorrow we will be in a convent). I am continually reminded that we are not just looking at quaint and lovely things, but that lives happen her and happened in such a different way here before. This lovely wall that surrounds the city was built to withstand cannons being fired by Russian barbarians trying to siege the Roman Empire. Luccians take great pride in never having been overtaken.
Today we climbed some 230 steps (I lost count) up a tower that was built in the 13 century. We rented bikes from a very non-enthusiastic south East Asian guy for 3E an hour and rode them around the 4 km wall. I made an emergency stop at a bathroom (more information than you want, I know, but bodies do what they do, even on vacation in the most romantic country in the world). What is interesting about this is that the stop was at a "Nursing Station Pit Stop" sponsored by UNICEF. I had never heard of such a thing. Anyway... We were riding shitty rental bikes on this 800 year old wall. Mind blowing. And it was really pretty. We wandered around lost with our noses in our tourist map and eventually stopped for an aperol spritz and some chips and peanuts, my favourite part of everyday where we watch the people, locals and tourists, going about their day and make up stories of their lives. A nonno in a cheesy hat graced us with some Bella musica (we knew it was Bella because he kept shouting, ascolta alla bella musica, in between playing some quintessential Italian tunes on his saxophone while his grandson rolled his eyes and tapped the tamborine). Then his grandson played and nonno worked the crowd for his tip for the day, while the Dutch couple next to us furrowed their brow and stared deeply into their phone.
So many characters... Sweaty fat Italian guy and his tired wife sitting on the curb next to the bank looking exhausted... We saw them later standing in front of a cathedral with a plate as if they were accepting an entrance fee (somehow I don't think they were employees)... Smartly dressed ladies riding bicycles with their little dogs in the front basket. So many beautiful fawns dressed in gorgeous Italian fashion, some owning it and others completely wide-eyed, still with their innocence.
I love it. And I am human. I am controlling and a bit fussy at times. Bill can be indecisive and we can both be a little snippy (a first for us). And it is perfect. I kind of love that about Italy. It seems to embrace it all here, unapologetically. A pig with lipstick. Lush and gaudy and perfect.
I have fallen in love with one couple on our tour so far -- Tim and Julie, sheep farmers from Australia. But it is after midnight and tomorrow is Cinque Terre. Sigh. I am so grateful to be here.
Monday, September 5, 2016
Florence First Impressions
I have to say it... Every young couple in Italy looks like they are about to have sex at any minute. A couple on the train, just loved everything about the other's face. She in red, draped over his lap; he holding her face in his hands, kissing again and again... Ah, so... uncomfortable... and perfect.
Florence first impressions:
- how did I not take note of all of the scooters in Rome. They were there too, but somehow here, they stand out. Perfect rows of scooters and bicycles parked EVERYWHERE
- so pretty, everything is just so lovely -- the people, the buildings, the fashion, the carousel in the square. Mmmuah!
- Bill is smitten with you and with your boots!
- But, it has to be said... the light hint of pooh smell in the air cannot be denied. Most unpleasant.
We only had time to poke around and look at big beautiful things and wonder what they are. Will will dive more into Florence when we return from out Tuscan Treats tour which starts tomorrow.
Florence first impressions:
- how did I not take note of all of the scooters in Rome. They were there too, but somehow here, they stand out. Perfect rows of scooters and bicycles parked EVERYWHERE
- so pretty, everything is just so lovely -- the people, the buildings, the fashion, the carousel in the square. Mmmuah!
- Bill is smitten with you and with your boots!
- But, it has to be said... the light hint of pooh smell in the air cannot be denied. Most unpleasant.
We only had time to poke around and look at big beautiful things and wonder what they are. Will will dive more into Florence when we return from out Tuscan Treats tour which starts tomorrow.
Arrivederci Roma
I'll just come out and say it... Today was a period day (in every way)! Mediocre breakfast (but better than yesterday's 30E white bread and orange Julius). Then a brisk one hour walk to the Vatican (Bill was an excellent navigator). Everyone and their dog was at the Vatican today, which is what my spidey senses told me as we were planning this trip. It was nearly impossible to appreciate the wonder of the works of art we were so privileged to see. I found myself angry at the Pope who hammered off all of the penises of the glorious statues. I was angry at the Pope who commissioned an artist to paint robes over the nudey bits on the alter mural in the Sistine Chapel, and I was in awe of Michael Angelo for his gumption of painting the face of one of his rivals (an evil aid to the Pope of the day) on a figure in hell) and also for the nice round bum he gave to God the Father. I so wish I could have been more present, but we were jammed in there like sardines and herded around like cattle. My last words were, I just want to get the fuck out of here. That's just true. Sorry glorious masterpieces.
We might have found the blandest pizza in all of Italy at a nearby restaurant owned by a mean old guy that shouted at all of his staff and then smiled sweetly to the patrons. I whispered to our server, "He's not very nice," and she grumbled, "He's impossible!" After lunch, we braved the Metro (it was really easy) to our neighbourhood to pick up our luggage, grab a drink (non-delicious iced coffee), and head back on the Metro to catch the train to Florence, which is where I am writing you from our second class coach as we speed past gorgeous pastures, vineyards, hills topped with old ruins or lovely villas, and charming towns.
Before I go on, more impressions of Rome:
- someone needs to speak to them about plastic -- they put two big black plastic straws in every drink, such a waste
- lots of unapologetic smokers
- it could use a good scrub
- more scars of transnational corporations -- Foot Locker, Barbie, Samsung -- massive billboards on the sides of old ruins or gorgeous buildings, such a shame, though Rebecca, our guide from The Borghese, did tell us that often corporations help finance the restoration of some of these historical monuments for the privilege to flash their name
- so many hell gigs -- the poor bastard who has to wrap himself up in gold lame and a King Tut headpiece in the blazing heat in the hopes that a tourist will pay to have their photo taken with him or make him bow for a coin, also the guy who throws the slimed pink and green splat balls all day long hoping for someone to give him a few bucks for one, and most heartbreaking are the old beggar women supplicating themselves at our feet with a cup in hand for a coin. There must be a market for all of this, or it wouldn't exist. Damn the invisible hand!
Yesterday, was gorgeous. We had nothing scheduled so just wandered the city. As we approached the Colloseum, I said to Bill, "It still amazes me," to which he answered, "Wow, imagine that, after one day, you are still amazed by this ancient wonder!"
We walked toward the big thing with the thing on top of it (Piazza Venezia), poked around there with our jaws open at the sheer hugeness of everything. We had the most gorgeous dining experience at Obica Mozzarella Bar (if you every visit Rome, please find this restaurant). The taste and texture of the mozzarella was simply perfection. We dined to the silky sounds of You Sexy Thing, which is exactly what this food was. Bill's espresso came with a little square of chocolate covered gelato. Whoever thought of that deserves a medal!
After lunch we weaved our way down busy cobbled streets to the Pantheon. I have to confess, neither one of us knows why the Pantheon is interesting, I am a little ashamed to say. We could tell it is old, but we did not wait in the long line (it smelled a little sewery) to go inside and find out why it is so great. Maybe we will regret it when we find out! As we were leaving the Piazza, these four young men passed by singing the most beautiful harmonies I have ever heard. I bet they have been in choir together since they were little boys... gave me chills.
Back to the hotel for a nap and then another perfect dining experience. Our lovely server scooped us inside as soon as she saw us while she set our table on the patio (she was hiding us from the competition next door and bribed us with complementary prosecco). We shared a three course meal of zucchini flowers, lamb medallions with raspberry sauce, and black fettuccini with clams (the most perfect pasta I have ever tasted) accompanied by a gorgeous bottle of some silky deliciousness.
So gorgeous. Tomorrow our Backroads Tuscan Treats tour begins from Florence, so... more deliciousness. I only brought stretch clothes with me; I plan on saying yes to everything delicious!
Saturday, September 3, 2016
Colosseum, Borghese, & Trevi Fountain
Our day started slowly after a restless night of waking and sleeping until we finally crashed hard at about 4am until 9:30 or so. We went next door for our uninspired, but oddly delicious breakfast of bread, juice and coffee. Daniel, the lovely gal at the front desk, advised that we try the 3.50 Euro breakfast, but it is small and we might not like it... "small is enough for us, but some people want something more." It was enough.
We had nothing on until the Borghese tour at 2:45, so thought we'd check out the Colosseum, which is about two blocks away from where we are staying. We were accosted by a charming young man who is studying Engineering at the University of Rome (his father is in Dubai, mother in Pakistan, so he is multi national he told us) who quickly convinced us to take his VIP tour which was starting right away. So glad we did. Our guide was a spunky retired teacher from Liverpool, Figgy. I wish I could remember all the stories, but I still don't have access to my full cognitive abilities due to jet lag, sleep deprivation, and holy-shit-I'm-in-Italy overwhelm. Mind blown.
See Facebook (I recommend sending a friend request to Bill Pozzobon if he's not already your friend) for photos as I can't figure out how to post them here.
We had to hustle by very expensive taxi to get to the Borghese Gallery in time for our scheduled tour. I was hot, sticky, and tired, but we pressed on. As soon as we walked into the first room of the Gallery, my whole being came alive and by the end of the two hours, I was near tears at the sheer beauty of what we had just experienced.
Caravaggio's boy with fruit
Raffaelo's dame with unicorn
Bernini's David... Bernini's everything
Oh my god. Please see these things in your lifetime if you can. Or pour your heart into something with the depth that these masters have done.
Tired and hungry, we followed Rebecca, our red headed art-nerd tour guide's suggestion, and had many tiny plates of olive oil soaked carbohydrates at Gusto's. On our way home, we stumbled across the Trevi Fountain where we tossed a coin to ensure that we will be back in Rome again one day (two more to go on this trip, and then... anything is possible). It was a mad house of selfie sticks and duck lips (I asked a beautiful young girl to please smile with her whole face, and was pleased to see that she did, for one shot anyway).
Bill continues to give me the benefit of the doubt that I do NOT deserve and allows me to steer us in the wrong direction almost every time. After a very long walk home of backtracking to correct several of my wrong turns, with gelato in hand, we are back in our tiny air conditioned room, blogging to the sounds of for he's a jolly good fellow (in Italian) coming from the bar downstairs.
I wish I could capture it all. So far, on day two, this is everything I dreamed it would be. And so much more. So tired. So happy.
We had nothing on until the Borghese tour at 2:45, so thought we'd check out the Colosseum, which is about two blocks away from where we are staying. We were accosted by a charming young man who is studying Engineering at the University of Rome (his father is in Dubai, mother in Pakistan, so he is multi national he told us) who quickly convinced us to take his VIP tour which was starting right away. So glad we did. Our guide was a spunky retired teacher from Liverpool, Figgy. I wish I could remember all the stories, but I still don't have access to my full cognitive abilities due to jet lag, sleep deprivation, and holy-shit-I'm-in-Italy overwhelm. Mind blown.
See Facebook (I recommend sending a friend request to Bill Pozzobon if he's not already your friend) for photos as I can't figure out how to post them here.
We had to hustle by very expensive taxi to get to the Borghese Gallery in time for our scheduled tour. I was hot, sticky, and tired, but we pressed on. As soon as we walked into the first room of the Gallery, my whole being came alive and by the end of the two hours, I was near tears at the sheer beauty of what we had just experienced.
Caravaggio's boy with fruit
Raffaelo's dame with unicorn
Bernini's David... Bernini's everything
Oh my god. Please see these things in your lifetime if you can. Or pour your heart into something with the depth that these masters have done.
Tired and hungry, we followed Rebecca, our red headed art-nerd tour guide's suggestion, and had many tiny plates of olive oil soaked carbohydrates at Gusto's. On our way home, we stumbled across the Trevi Fountain where we tossed a coin to ensure that we will be back in Rome again one day (two more to go on this trip, and then... anything is possible). It was a mad house of selfie sticks and duck lips (I asked a beautiful young girl to please smile with her whole face, and was pleased to see that she did, for one shot anyway).
Bill continues to give me the benefit of the doubt that I do NOT deserve and allows me to steer us in the wrong direction almost every time. After a very long walk home of backtracking to correct several of my wrong turns, with gelato in hand, we are back in our tiny air conditioned room, blogging to the sounds of for he's a jolly good fellow (in Italian) coming from the bar downstairs.
I wish I could capture it all. So far, on day two, this is everything I dreamed it would be. And so much more. So tired. So happy.
Friday, September 2, 2016
Roma... First impression
As predicted, it is 2:30am Rome time and I am wide awake in our tiny dark room. I thought it was 5:30, which would have been perfect, but no such luck. But never mind all that...
What I noticed first on our long shuttle bus ride with the dozen or so other travel weary passengers on our hotel shuttle service from the airport to our hotel (which is tiny, but lovely by the way):
- Palm trees -- I don't know why I wasn't expecting palm trees
- Lots of graffiti -- just like home and everywhere else I have travelled -- also not sure why I wasn't expecting this
- This town is lousy with nuns, which, I guess is to be expected what with the Vatican and all and, oh, the Pope is canonizing Mother Teresa today I think, which I expect will be popular with the nuns
- MacDonalds -- I am always disappointed to see this scar of globalization
- And then gorgeousness -- tiny, cobbled streets with scooters and tiny cars and buses and people all finding their way fearlessly together.
- And really old, really huge structures, like the Colesseum and the wall surrounding the Vatican, and a humongous domed building with pillars topped by a gold statue. Amazing. The ancient and the old and the new all right there, all very in your face.
Everytime I travel, I wish I were invisible. There are so many characters I would love to take pictures of. Old men sitting outside of storefronts; the gorgeous, young, slick, Italian guy leaning on his motorcycle that his lovely girlfriend is sitting side saddle on; the oddest couples, she bedazzled in make-up and sparkles, he in red skinny pants and red shoes and red t-shirt; the lovely elegant young woman sitting at an outdoor bar with her aperol spritzer waiting for her friend to join her; and back at the airport the airline attendants from another time dressed in green suits with tiny waists and maroon stockings and heels... There are too many to mention. The human landscape is so beautiful and diverse, these characters remind me that people live all over the world. I don't ever want to forget that this place, wherever this place may be at any given time, is someone's home!
As for the doing part of our first day... it mostly involved wandering with tired eyes from eatery to eatery. We met a lovely couple from Kansas (Jason and Jen celebrating their 15 year wedding anniversary) who helped us stay awake until the sun went down chatting about politics, youth culture, cars, comedy, drugs, and family. So, so great.
A perfect first day... And now to try and sleep until the sun comes up.
What I noticed first on our long shuttle bus ride with the dozen or so other travel weary passengers on our hotel shuttle service from the airport to our hotel (which is tiny, but lovely by the way):
- Palm trees -- I don't know why I wasn't expecting palm trees
- Lots of graffiti -- just like home and everywhere else I have travelled -- also not sure why I wasn't expecting this
- This town is lousy with nuns, which, I guess is to be expected what with the Vatican and all and, oh, the Pope is canonizing Mother Teresa today I think, which I expect will be popular with the nuns
- MacDonalds -- I am always disappointed to see this scar of globalization
- And then gorgeousness -- tiny, cobbled streets with scooters and tiny cars and buses and people all finding their way fearlessly together.
- And really old, really huge structures, like the Colesseum and the wall surrounding the Vatican, and a humongous domed building with pillars topped by a gold statue. Amazing. The ancient and the old and the new all right there, all very in your face.
Everytime I travel, I wish I were invisible. There are so many characters I would love to take pictures of. Old men sitting outside of storefronts; the gorgeous, young, slick, Italian guy leaning on his motorcycle that his lovely girlfriend is sitting side saddle on; the oddest couples, she bedazzled in make-up and sparkles, he in red skinny pants and red shoes and red t-shirt; the lovely elegant young woman sitting at an outdoor bar with her aperol spritzer waiting for her friend to join her; and back at the airport the airline attendants from another time dressed in green suits with tiny waists and maroon stockings and heels... There are too many to mention. The human landscape is so beautiful and diverse, these characters remind me that people live all over the world. I don't ever want to forget that this place, wherever this place may be at any given time, is someone's home!
As for the doing part of our first day... it mostly involved wandering with tired eyes from eatery to eatery. We met a lovely couple from Kansas (Jason and Jen celebrating their 15 year wedding anniversary) who helped us stay awake until the sun went down chatting about politics, youth culture, cars, comedy, drugs, and family. So, so great.
A perfect first day... And now to try and sleep until the sun comes up.
Thursday, September 1, 2016
Siamo in aeroporto
We are up, wired, and tired after a few days of anticipation... Just as I was this time last year. Naomi Marie Harmon was born around 5am on this day last year after a long night of labour for Danika and all of us who couldn't wait for her to arrive. This trip to Italy is no beanie baby, but OH BOY OH BOY OH BOY!!!
We are hunkered down for a long travel day. Vancouver-Toronto, 3 hour layover, Toronto-Rome. Our luggage came in well under weight, with plenty of room for olive oil and Italian shoes.
My feet have been itchy for the last 15 years, never quite being able to settle unless a trip was on the horizon. It's kind of amazing to be where I am right now... on my way to this gorgeous adventure and knowing, maybe for the first time, that coming home to my life of dogs, baby, boys, and yoga will be just as sweet.
La vita e bella!
We are hunkered down for a long travel day. Vancouver-Toronto, 3 hour layover, Toronto-Rome. Our luggage came in well under weight, with plenty of room for olive oil and Italian shoes.
My feet have been itchy for the last 15 years, never quite being able to settle unless a trip was on the horizon. It's kind of amazing to be where I am right now... on my way to this gorgeous adventure and knowing, maybe for the first time, that coming home to my life of dogs, baby, boys, and yoga will be just as sweet.
La vita e bella!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)