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March 1999 Trip

"Bonjiorno Fabrizzio--Ciao", or "Where did we lose that?” or  "Signora/Madonna of the gen-Italia", or "Where's Prague? – Please!!"

By Sandra Nuti and Carl Korn

Very early on in every travel adventure, Carl names the trip.  I reserve my title until the end of the trip. Surprisingly, Carl's name is usually right on the money and if this is the case this time, we're in for quite a merry adventure.

Tuesday, March 30

The flight on Delta to New York was pleasant enough-adequate leg room and older stewardesses whom Carl especially thinks are nice--he seemed to prefer a tall slightly chunky strawberry blonde.  I have decided that I am not alive but rather one of Carl's frequent delusions because women continue to come-on to him as if I didn't exist.  It's not just that coquettish look--they flirt brazenly in front of me.  The stewardess in question asked Carl with his HALF empty glass of water if he wanted some more and proceeded to bring him a bottle!!  I sat there with an empty glass and was offered nothing and received nothing.  I've weighed this phenomenon carefully in my mind and decided even though it ruffles my feathers, it makes Carl's male heart beat faster and puts that Cheshire Cat smile on his face--so they find him attractive--I still do after 5 or is it 6 years--time with him has truly flown by.    Back to the trip-we had to change planes in New York and the next flight crew was much younger and ruder--they kept rolling their carts over Carl's feet and chastised him for having feet--the nerve!!!.  They seemed inexperienced--2 stood in the aisle over 30 minutes trying to figure out "duty free" procedures.  The movie "Elizabeth" was O K but our headphones kept coming unplugged and the foam designed to pass for earplugs kept falling off.

Wednesday,  March 31

We departed the plane in Rome and took a shuttle to the airport's terminal.  Standing next to us on the bus were the "La Dolce Vita" girls and their older male companion.  Let me try to describe them: one was a brunette-tall, thin, in straight legged dark pants with a long woolen coat, 5 inch gray silk heels with long pointed toes, 3 bangle bracelets of gold, silver and matted polished copper and a man's ring with a large emerald surrounded by a cluster of diamonds-she wore a lot of eye makeup that made her eyes almond shaped and had long below the shoulders straight hair.  The whole "look" was expensive and first class.  Carl liked this brunette and later when he saw them at the baggage claims she had taken off her coat and Carl remarked that she even had nice breasts.  Funny the difference between men and women--he's looking at her boobs and I'm wondering how she can walk gracefully in her heels while she hoists her luggage.  The other woman was a tall, thin blonde with the same hair length and she wore a black short jacket of designer silk with black straight legged pants with silver speckles and gold bangles almost to her elbow--she also had a ring with a band of large diamonds and was heavily made-up and wore very high heels.  Their companion was a short 55 year old bald Italian with a cell phone to his ear saying immediately upon departing the plane, "Bonjiorno, Fabrizzio, Ciao" for everyone to hear.  He must have been a movie producer like in the film--how else could be have these babes on his arms.

Back to the trip – The man at the Custom's Desk had a real attitude when we asked him to stamp our passports--we couldn't understand what he said since our Italian is minimal, but he probably cussed us out for making him do something. So be it, at least we have our stamps.  Our baggage was the last to come off the plane, but at least made it.

We had arranged, or should I say Carl so he can get the credit or the blame, to stay in a Bed and Breakfast near the Vatican.  This is Easter Week and Passover Time and besides these religious activities it is also Spring Break, so that Rome is jammed with tourists. Most of the hotels were booked months ago; so Carl found "Daniela and Andrea's B&B” on the Internet.... the Italian government as a 4 Star listed it.  We were told that someone holding a sign with Carl's name would meet us at the airport.  Oh No!! We've reached the point where those weirdoes at an exit gate will hold up our names.  Our weirdo turned out to be "Davido"--he looked attractively Italian, according to Carl and had a recently peroxided slight goatee, according to Carl, and the obligatory SUN GLASSES, according to me.  As he drove us to the B & B, we decided there was no way we'd rent a car--the driving was a maze through the hills and streets of Rome.  I remarked that I felt we must be in another country since the route took us through parts of Rome that looked nothing like the Rome we had seen before.  Finally, we arrived on a street somewhere.  (It turns out to be near the Tiber and somewhat near the bridge of Castle San Angelo of "Tosca" fame that leads to the Vatican.  So the Internet ad of "near the Vatican" was correct, although the concept of "near" in foreign countries is far greater than how Americans use that word.  The Internet had not said "NO LIFT"--that was true. What it neglected to say was that the B & B was up at least 8 flights of marble steps--I stopped counting when I stopped breathing.  Davido bounded up the steps with our heavy luggage--I hope he's around to carry it down when we leave-- (He wasn't).

How can I describe our home for the next few days???? Since this is our first B & B experience we have nothing to compare it to, but I'd say this must be unique--at least I hope so.  The flat is very large. Daniela is a young, very friendly Italian who promotes art, so the flat is real artsy and has fabulous paintings and sculptures everywhere.  I call our suite "The Apricot Rooms" since the orange color scheme glowed like a giant piece of fruit.  Over the bed were pieces of art and other stuff including a stuffed gazelle-or "Bambi" as I affectionately called him.  The bed was comfortable--the room was very cold and the only heat source was a small heater in the living room.  The bathroom needed a bit more work as the shower had peeling paint and rust around the floor tiles--but it did have an adequate hot water supply, a fact Daniela was proud to point out and one for which we were most grateful.  We were given some of the family's towels-a bright assortment--line dried as they are in Italian homes as evidenced by the rough scratch texture!!!  Carl says I'm a "good sport"--I AM...Despite our jet lag, we proceed post haste to the Vatican. I explain to Carl that since this is Wednesday, it is probably the last day we can see the Vatican stuff, as Thursday thru Sunday is Holy Week and the statues will be covered--at least that is the American custom.

The Vatican is full of tourists.  We grab a bite at a self-service restaurant--we don't know what we're doing so we ordered $45.00 worth of food--but it was good tasting: chicken/calamari/pasta/overcooked green beans. 

The last time in Rome I was disappointed that I missed the "Raphael Angel Frescoes", so Carl (sweetie that he is) had that on the top of the list of things to see.  We walked forever to and thru the Museum and eventually found out that the Angel Frescoes were not by Raphael at all, so we walked all the way back thru the Museum to the Portrait Gallery and found them.  They were fabulous!! The colors of blues and yellows were so vibrant and the faces of the mostly boys and one blonde girl angel were beautiful.  It was worth the search!!

We went into the Sistine Chapel, which was packed with people--but such a great artwork; and no matter how many times you see it, it is still breathtaking.

The Piazza outside the Vatican was already set up for the Easter Sunrise Service.

We had talked about staying in Rome to attend--how often does one see the Pope? --But the "regular folks" would be standing so far back since the clergy and invited guests get the seats, that we decided it wasn't worth staying over--not that we even would have a place to stay since the city was booked up and our rooms were not available for those extra days.

The Church inside was a big disappointment this trip.  They are doing renovations--as is everyone in the world--for the Millennium.  The Pieta was blocked off--you could still see it but at a far distance--even with this restriction it comes across as The Greatest work of Art.  What else can you say about it!!

There were chairs and barricades set up inside, again for the Easter Services, so we couldn't see the Tomb of St Peter or his Statue, but we did admire the huge, majestic tombs and altars elsewhere. 

By this point, I wasn't able to walk in a straight line, so we decided to call it a day.

But that meant a long walk back to the B & B and a long climb up those 94 stairs.

 By 4 PM Carl was soundly sleeping and I, after a shower, joined him.  We slept until 6 AM punctuated by a few scavenger hunts for food.  Our stash was woefully inadequate--we had to suffice with a stale roll with mayo, one tangerine, and a stale granola bar.  We definitely restock tomorrow.

I wonder what kind of breakfast Daniela will fix? --We’re starving!!

Carl awakened me in the middle of the night to tell me about a painting he envisions doing.  Its theme is eucalyptus lines with rosettas--he was inspired by the view of the countryside as the plane approached Rome.  Now to find a room for him to create his work of art when we get home. I'LL CALL THE PAINTING "THE TRAVELER", BECAUSE THE MORE YOU TRAVEL THE MORE EVERYTHING LOOKS THE SAME EXCEPT FOR A FEW RED-ORANGE ROSETTAS IN AN INDISTINCT BACKGROUND OF EUCALYPTUS SILVERGREEN COLORED LEAVES-EACH LEAF BARELY DEFINED.

Thursday, April 1

Breakfast at the B & B--the little kitchenette off of our room is where WE fix our breakfast.  There are dirty dishes in the sink-from whom??? A small loaf of bread, 2 ripe bananas, and in the refrigerator a jar with the remnants of watered down jam, coke, chocolate Easter eggs, and a container with bones (I'm sure the remains of our gazelle on the wall).  To make tea you turn on a portable gas stove and boil water in a pan.  I hope I don't get food poisoning.  Carl says the kitchen scene-a.k.a. housekeeping is just like mine--he'll pay for that insult to my culinary and domestic talents!!!!!

Here I sit in bed trying to keep warm--we now have 2 heaters on in our rooms and our feet are like ice.  A postscript for the morning entry is that as I went to put our tea mugs into the kitchenette, the other half of Daniella and Andrea was naked across the hall from the kitchenette. Too dark to see his vitals, but still.... Carl later said that Andrea was always scratching his crotch when they were talking.

We started the day's adventure by buying more food--a wonderful ricotta tart-in the Campo di Fiori. This place was bustling with early morning produce vendors--of note was that they sell their artichokes with long stems of 6 inches.  Then we were off to the Piazza Navonna, a place I remembered fondly from our last visit--its fabulous fountains by Bernini, the most famous of which is the Four Rivers with the statue representing the artist having his head covered by his own hand so that he couldn't see the church built by his rival, Boromeo, in front of him.

Because it was still early, the piazza was quite deserted except for the small dogs walking about. It was nice-peaceful, so you could really appreciate the art around you.

On our way to the Fountain of Trevi of the "3 Coins in the Fountain" fame, Carl stopped in at the hotel we stayed at on our last trip-the Colona Palace--it looked like a "palace" compared to our B & B--not that I'm complaining.  Carl asked for "Bruno" whose son had waited on us at the Stock Pot Restaurant in London last fall--he wasn't in until later--too bad we might have gotten a better rate since we knew his be-ringed-tattooed prodigal son--then again he may have charged us more.

The crowds of tourists were increasing by the minute, but the Trevi Fountain wasn't overrun yet--it is beautiful and stately, but I still prefer the Piazza Navonna.

Next was a long trek to the Via Veneto--I keep thinking of the "La Dolce Vita" group at the airport--Carl keeps thinking about his own private La Dolce Vita days of the 60's.  There are signs that the street is recapturing its age of grandeur--we hope so.

We wander over to the top of the Spanish Steps and go into the Hassler Hotel--there is an amber Murano glass Chandelier--we think it's an early work of Chuhuly.  There is also an exquisite chocolate Easter egg on display--so does anyone ever get to eat these works of art?

Another long trek down the Spanish Steps--the day is clear and bright and warmly Springtime and the view is good.

There are still young people sitting on the bottoms of the Steps--it is still a meeting place for young adult travelers from all over the world.

We wander about for lunch and settle on an auto serve--we have to wait until it opens at 11:30--but we forget this is Italy where time isn't precise so it really opens at 11:40.  We select a well-done pork leg, overcooked veal, good pasta and salad and fruit. (On the way out we have a fair gelato.)  Into our dining room area comes "The Three Italianos".  One is a stocky man in a black suit and black trench coat--his full head of black hair is slicked back and he is shaven but has a very heavy beard; he definitely isn't the brain of this outfit--we'll call him "Guido". The other man is thin-he wears a suit and a beige raincoat.  On his head is a brown fedora--who wears Fedors anymore? --He appears to have thinning hair with a thin braid sticking out from the back of his neck--he carries a brown satchel--we're sure it has "a piece" as well as papers.  We'll call this brain of the group "Gianni".  The oldest member is a thin woman--dressed severely in a skirt and long sleeved shirt--all in shades of gray.  Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail.  Despite her conversations with Guido and Gianni, she looks like a nun, but Carl insists she drives the get-away car.  We call her "Bonnie".  We're sure we'll be reading about this trio in the local paper after their "big hit".

We head out for The Roman Forum and Coliseum area.  Last time we saw the Forum at night and later on a rainy day.  Today it is bright and sunny.  We are struck by how massive all these buildings must have been in their heyday.  We got the same feeling earlier in the day at the Pantheon--it is awesome to stand inside. 

There is excavation and renovation going on all over Rome--a lot here at the Forum and the Coloseum.  We buy entrance tickets for the Coloseum. But I don't get the feeling of Roman crowds that I did last time--there are so many people here today--we climb steep, steep steps to get closer to the top.  Did we really climb these 1 1/2 years ago?  Our legs are going fast!!! We saw a wildcat and Carl explained it's a remnant of the hoards of cats that use to overrun the Coloseum. 

We have disappointments this day -- the Capucine Cathedral/Museum with its wall of skulls is closed--imagine my disappointment--NOT!!, but Carl insists it's worth seeing this grisly sight.  The Capitolene Museum is closed and the famous Dying Gaul statue is also not on display.  We go in circles trying to find the Church of St Peter in Chains that house Michaelangelo's "Moses"--we finally find it only to learn it is close until 3:30, an hour away. We’re disappointed, but we did see it last time and got fabulous photos then. 

We stop for pastry and drinks and continue to meet nice world travelers--the whole world is traveling!!

We wind our way through Rome to the Tiber near the Synagogue--it's Passover and Carl wants to stop into the Temple--it's closed until 7 PM.

We wander into the remnants of the old Jewish Ghetto-we had seen it last time in the dark--but day or night it is a sad reminder of the lives of the Roman Jews.  The engraving outside the Synagogue lists the names of people killed during the Holocaust--most have Italian names--how interesting.  

Speaking of "lists of names", outside the Capitolene Museum, Bans of Marriage are posted--now that's a very old custom.  I wonder if Carl catches the meaning??

We've been walking all day and Carl, the guide "Lewis" of this expedition, gets us back to the B & B.   I remind him we'll be starving later, so we turn around and after wandering in and out of shops in the Campo di Fiore, we get pork roast, mozzarella balls, bread, biscotti and Cokes to snack on.  Turns out the meat and the bread are too salty for Carl and he doesn't want caffeine Coke so I enjoy the repast later.

Daniela greets us with fresh strawberries and Italian chocolate Easter Eggs.  She helps us make reservations at The Holiday Inn in Naples--despite reports of Naples being unsafe, we decide to go since it is most convenient to our plans to see Pompeii and Capri.  We note that our bed has not been made up and all of the towels we left on the bathroom floor (we thought the universal sign to launder) have been put back on the hooks.  We ask and happily get fresh towels.

The street we are staying on in full of antique shops.  Andrea has lived here for 10 years, only the last 2 with Daniela.  He works as a contractor/restorer and she runs the B & B and fancies herself an art promoter.  She's been nice-no complaints.

The rooms seem noisier than they did last night--but then we passed out from sheer exhaustion. We're both still pretty tired. Life has been exhausting for me lately with Hannah's Wedding and all.  One never realizes how spent one is until the merry go round slows down.

Time to snuggle with my "Main Squeeze"...

Note: Italian men are a sight to behold.  Young or old, they must spend hours primping; their outfits are impeccable and every hair is in place, whether they are full headed or balding. They still gather anywhere and everywhere in small groups to chat. Cellular phones are making inroads-an understatement- but I think the male "kiva" is safe here.

I almost forgot, we were almost "taken"--conned--robbed.  As we were walking down a hill, a car was stopped and called us over for directions to the train station.  In retrospect, the 2 guys in the car were right out of a movie--one with bad guys in it.  The driver was older, shark-skinned suit, greased back hair and a big toothy smile.  His passenger was younger, shark skinned suit, bright tie, silent-almost sullen--he's probably the one that plunges the knife in or breaks your legs.  When the older guy, a "salesman", tried to "give" us Perry Ellis jackets, Carl, my protector, realized it was a scam and we quickly left to the driver's cursing.  Carl nervously checked to make sure we had our money and papers and said if we'd had an expensive watch or rings on they would be gone--thinking back, he was right, for the driver insisted upon shaking hands with us both.  One can never let one's guard down--not even for a moment.

We counted how many steps from the ground to our room--94!!!!!!! Even the young Daniela said she almost refused to move in with her lover Andrea because of so many steps--but of course in Italy love always finds a way and a matter of 94 marble steps wouldn't quench Italian Passion.

Boy are we exhausted at the end of this day in Rome.

Friday, April 2

We oversleep, but get up at 7 AM --our hosts were probably miffed because we were leaving a day early, so there was no breakfast--not that the one we had yesterday was anything worth eating--but at least we had tea, bread and fruit.  Today, NADA. So be it.   Andrea calls us a cab and we carry our luggage down the 94 marble steps.  Andrea didn't offer to help, but continued to scratch his crotch and ask if everything was O K.  People are so stupid--we wouldn't have to rave about their place, but it was a bargain at $95.00 per night and they were O K until the end--now; we'd never refer anyone to them.

Our taxi gets us to the train station quickly and we have just a few minutes to grab a sandwich and hop on the second-class train to Naples.

 It seems everyone in Rome is heading south for Easter and the train is packed--no seats and even the pull-down seats in the hall are taken.  We stand on the landing-connecting area between the train cars for the 2 1/2 hour ride.  Also on the landing are smokers, and no air is circulating except when people open the door to find the bathroom--unfortunately it's also on our landing. We meet two 25-year-old girls from Australia: one is a nurse and the other worked in a small town's airport.  They've been traveling a few years and both worked temp in England and would earn enough money for the next leg of their journeys. They were nice and chatty which helped time pass.  The views from the train are interesting--there are farms and vineyards with lush green grass. We even see hills of thick white wild flowers.  There are apartment buildings and homes, most for poor people; only a few for the rich.  We even see a fortress/castle on a rocky hillside. 

We've heard all kinds of horror stories about Naples.

We have no problem in the train station and after a quick snack at McDonald's we catch the free Holiday Inn Shuttle.  The ride is short. There are traffic jams everywhere. Cars park on the sidewalks. There is no way we'd drive here. 

After the B & B experience, the Holiday Inn looks palatial.  Guess we're not the B & B type, but we were good sports about it.

After a quick change we take the Hotel Shuttle back to the train station and after a disjointed discussion with the ticket agent, we are off to Herculaneum/Pompeii/Sorrento. 

At least we have seats on this local train.

The first thing we do in Herculaneum is stop at a pizzeria for some famous Neapolitan pizza--we watch the young man make a 4 part pizza: 1/4 ricotta; 1/4 mozzarella; 1/4 tomato sauce with ham slices; 1/4 tomato sauce with mushrooms.  Yummy!!

Then we walk down a long hilly street to the ruins. 

In the distance we can see Mt Vesuvius.  Herculaneum is one of the great world wonders.  It was a party town for the rich, complete with bath houses and beautiful frescoed homes.  You can walk through a lot of it up close and the frescoes and inlaid floors are breathtaking. 

We have to walk uphill on the way back to the train station but we catch the train with literally 2 minutes to spare.

By this time I have one of my frequent hot flashes. 

In short order the train pulls into Pompeii; we get off and I discover that I've left my $50.00 super duper Travel Smith hat on the train.  Carl has been wearing one too--looks like and Australian cowboy.  So I left it on the train.  Let it be...but no, Carl has to retrieve it and the train pulls off with him on it and me at the station.  Nothing to do but wait for Carl to get to the next stop, wherever that is, and catch a return train back to me, whenever that is.  However, I have his passport and he has all of the money...stupid us...

Fortunately, it isn't a long wait and even more fortunately, Carl doesn't lecture me on forgetting things on trains.

We buy a huge delicious orange, a specialty of the area, and proceed into Pompeii.

This is a tourist Mecca and it is packed. The place is huge--it must have been a heavily populated city. There are lots of walls and rooms and columns, but most of the objects inside the buildings have been removed to the museums in Naples and although the frescoes are on some walls, you generally can't get close.  Walking is exhausting over the original huge cobblestones paving the streets.  After more than an hour we decide we liked Herculaneum better and leave Pompeii.

On the way out we pass an enclosed area with artifacts including several bodies mummified with the volcanic ash.  Now they were a find!!  We found this area by allowing Carl to get lost again.

Somehow we make it back to the train station after visiting the adjacent Coral Shop--too expensive--no help from a policeman with the wrong directions--and we decide we're too tired to go to Sorrento and return to Naples.

On the train is a young Italian girl who Carl is fascinated to watch as she manipulates her boyfriend.  She's a baby compared to me, Carl decides.

There are 2 train stops in Naples and of course we get off at the wrong one and have to walk several blocks thru a very seedy section.  Carl splurges on a taxi.

At the hotel we're disappointed that the hotel doesn't begin dinner service until 7 P M and the receptionist gives us delicious chocolate Easter Eggs to hold us.

Naples is really a very disorganized city and customer service is poor if existent at all.

All of the hotel service help from the Concierge down spend their time on their own cellular phones talking with friends and are angry to be interrupted from their private sexual conversations.  

Dinner isn't ready at 7 and only somewhat by 7:15.  The food is delicious with olive oil drenching everything--Carl says he'll be in the bathroom for a month!

The headwaiter instructs the bar server to bring us a separate bill for tea and beer? And the food server to get us to sign for our bill immediately--how odd.   When we notice that no one else in the dining room has been asked to do this, we realize we have been treated rudely and are angry enough to write a complaint--not that we expect anything to come of it here and now, but later in the U S when we e-mail to International Holiday Inn, the Italian heads will roll!!! --Fat chance!

We're in bed by 8 PM. This is getting to be a habit.

We sleep well--Carl sleeps so much better when out of L A.  I wonder what that means.

From our room's window we see Mt Vesuvius in the background and the produce market below us.

Saturday, April 3

The breakfast buffet is very good quality--they have Italian Shell Pastry, a favorite of mine from childhood. 

Another day of adventure...The Shuttle Bus is full, so as we're readjusting our plans we meet some fellow lodgers--he a college teacher and she a librarian from Michigan--they sold their house and are on sabbatical for a year traveling the world--they were just down to earth regular folks with a passion for adventure.  We walked with them through a business promenade reminiscent of the Parisian Grand Arch Place and then through streets teaming with people and produce and wares-sort of a Tijuana or Garment District, but definitely low-end Naples.   A group of men were carrying a religious banner of Mary, playing music and asking $1.00 for tourists to take photos of their procession.

We made it to the train station, got tickets for a bus to catch the boat to Capri.  The bus, an orange one R-2 was packed--of course we didn't know the route or where to get off, but the passengers around us were helpful in their confused Neapolitan way--everyone joined in with a different opinion--middle age, young, old, men, women--isn't there only one correct place to get off?? Not by their words and hand gestures.  Still they were being helpful to us even if we became more confused with each suggestion.  Later we learned this was the infamous bus line inundated with pickpockets.

We passed through the better section of Napoli; better shops along the Corso Umberto and in the Galleria Umberto.  We passed the Opera House "Teatro di San Carlo", the Royal Palace and the New Castle. The New Castle is a real castle from the 13th Century. And it is "NEW" because it was rebuilt in the 15th Century. It had battle towers and one could see the moat protecting its residents right up close.

We left the bus near the Maritime Station and hurriedly got our tickets for the hydro jet boat and then we're on our way to Capri.

We sat on the upper deck with an interesting group of young, attractive Italian lovers, a couple traveling with a large Lab dog and older couples and us.  The day was foggy, but the breeze was cool and not cold.  In the distance we could see Mt Vesuvius as it really is: 2 slopes since it blew its top and destroyed Herculaneum and Pompeii.  The trip took 45 minutes.

Capri is a lot like Catalina Island off the Southern California coast, but Capri has steeper cliffs of limestone and grander homes or villas nestled on its slopes.  There is a touristy section of shops and restaurants at the docking area.

We rush to get a ticket for a small motorboat that will take us to the Blue Grotto.  There were about 25 tourists on this boat; a family whose male head was Kurdish and had escaped his homeland; 6 middle aged Spanish lesbians; 2 Eurasian girls expensively dressed making love to a young Italian who would have been expensively dressed but for his de-classe gray socks.  Most of the people were with the "Green Tour Group" whose leader was a pleasant man doing this work for 40 years.

The water about the boat was a beautiful shade of periwinkle blue. I’d never seen anything like it.

Then as the sun came out, the water along the coast became a blue-green aqua.

As we approached the Grotto, which had a shrine to Mary over its entrance, the boats were in a holding pattern and for about 30 minutes we sat and waited.  I felt queasy but didn't get sick.  Then it was our turn.

I didn't know that we would be getting directly into a small canoe from our small boat.  I also didn't know that the entrance to the Grotto was so low that we had to lie down in the canoe to enter.  Had I known, I would have passed on this adventure, but there I was and I only hoped I wouldn't faint from the claustrophobic place. There was another couple with us, and the steersman who stood up and guided the canoe. 

The inside of the Grotto was breathtaking!!!!!! I wouldn't have missed this one for the world.

When light hits the water the most gorgeous shade of blue develops.  Our guide said that the Grotto had been the private swimming area for the Emperor Tiberius and his paramours--he even showed us Tiberius's secret passage. Whatever....

The color of the blue water was unlike any color I'd ever seen and the water was clear and cold to the touch.

The trip was over in a few minutes but not before we once again had to lie down in the canoe to exit.

We climbed back onto the same motorboat that brought us to the canoe and returned post haste to the main docking of area of Capri. 

We walked over to the funicular-a cable car that goes up the side of the cliffs-to the top, which is Anacapri, a big shopping area with upscale stores and restaurants. And mobbed with tourists.

We settled on a restaurant nestled in a hillside with a nice view of the water far below and gardens falling down the mountainside.  It was similar to our favorite restaurant the Nepenthe in Big Sur, California.  The place turned out to be a well known eatery, "La Cantinella"--not only did we have a lovely view, but the food was delicious.  I had pasta with salmon and asparagus. Carl had Santa Lucia pasta with seafood.  The restaurant had the most beautiful ashtrays with Capri colors and after doing my hat trick, it was mine.  Naughty me, but it was the perfect one and we'd seen many pieces of pottery as we had walked about.

Even the bathroom was an adventure here.  You pushed a button on the toilet and the seat came down covered with paper--when you were done you pressed another button and the paper came off and the seat went up.  Honest!!

Eating next to us was a couple from Milan. They became unfriendly when we told them we didn't like seeing people shooting up dope on the streets of Milan. They had begun a conversation with us about how they loved Amsterdam.  Carl says the key words to people into drugs and kinky sex seems to be Amsterdam--we had encountered that on prior trips. Then the conversation became one about how rigid and uptight Americans were regarding drugs and sex, since these were personal behavioral actions.  Hmmm....

We bought some perfume, "Aria de Capri" from a famous perfumery, "Carthusia", that Elizabeth Taylor buys from.  If it’s good enough for Liz it's good enough for us.

We tried a regional alcoholic drink, Limoncella that was yummy and sweet--it was made from vodka and fresh lemon rinds.

We nibbled on pastries and decided to walk down the mountain to the sea and of course Carl takes lefts and rights and we find ourselves on a deserted path.  Of course it did lead thru the tiny alleys abutting the front gates of the villas and it did have spectacular views of the bay of Capri.  So, we saw the lush gardens of the "regular folks"--flowers and vegetables and fruit trees.  Lemon trees everywhere. We even saw some hens and cats. 

When we reached the Marina, we got tickets to return to Naples, at Gate 11--departing in 15 minutes.

The next scene could only be understood if one were Italian, knows an Italian or has been in Naples, specifically...There was a crush of people trying to get on several ships.  There was a real bottleneck as people wanting to get on these ships pushed one way and people getting off of the same ships pushed in the other direction.  Of course there were those in the back who felt they should push to the front, regardless.  There were baggage handlers with carts full of luggage, baby strollers, everyone speaking different languages--UTTER CHAOS.  There was no crowd control Carl says the Italians in Napoli are the most disorganized people he's ever seen. 

It was scary--I was separated from Carl and being claustrophobic I didn't know if I could cope; fortunately the crowd started to move and we got on the ship with only a few moments before it raised anchor.

This ship was very large and it sped along back to Napoli.

We saw Mt Vesuvius again--it really is a sight to behold especially when you know and have seen its effects.

At docking we asked several people to direct us to the Central Plaza where we could get the free Holiday Inn Shuttle.  No one seemed to know, even the police, but again everyone was helpful, if confused.

Luckily, I saw the green van approaching and we hurried and secured the last 2 seats...A German family arrived minutes later and didn't understand why they could never get a seat and the driver was unwilling to let them on by making children on board sit on their parents laps...Later the driver stopped at the train station and let an Italian couple on, making the children sit on their parents' laps...Carl says the Italians still hate the Germans...

While we waited for the Shuttle to leave the Marina Plaza area, we were parked in front of a snack bar and observed the local young men and women.  The men were always standing or talking very close to other men.  There were girls hanging around, but they seemed incidental to what was going on with the men.  When a guy left, he was kissed on the cheeks and hugged by the other guys.  Men really like to touch one another in Italy. 

These people all looked like they could be in the movies: "La Dolce Vita" or "The Godfather"....

We finally arrived at the hotel at 6:55.  We wanted a sandwich and we're told we had 5 minutes only to get one at the bar.  The young woman at the bar was quite confused--although the menu listed several sandwiches, she had only ham and cheese...she said she'd heat them up in the microwave, but really she toasted them...we ordered one and got two...the price for each was 6000 lira. She charged us 12,200 for the two. We wanted glasses of tap water--she insisted on giving us bottled water because she liked to--turned out she wasn't even the bartender. He was having dinner so she was filling in. There was no way she could have mixed a cocktail--she couldn't get the sandwich and water order correct...this was very typical of our time in southern Italy...

Carl had a very difficult night sleeping--he had a lot of pain in his leg--tried lots of things. Finally his mom told him in a dream it was a low blood sugar reaction..."A mother's love is eternal", Carl always says....

What a wonderful surprise!!! I kept hearing sounds of fireworks; being a big fan of fireworks, I'd know that sound anywhere.  Looking out of the room's window this night toward Mt Vesuvius, I saw in the far, far distance fireworks going off in at least 5 locations.  It was midnight eve of Easter Sunday and I guess local churches--there is one on every block in Napoli--celebrate with fireworks. Some locations had a few fireworks displays, but 2 must have had a local rivalry, for theirs were spectacular. They had some in the Italian colors of red and green. And others in a vibrant periwinkle blue--the color of the waters at Capri. 

The owner of “Vivoli” in Florence, Sylvana, that Naples is one of the fireworks capitals of the world... later told us. We finally realized that the fireworks were set off in a pattern of churches going up the sides of Mt Vesuvius.... Awesome!!!

Easter Sunday, April 4

Sorrento

I'm writing about Sorrento the day after our visit to this resort town.  I'm standing on a train stopped in a field somewhere outside of Rome.  I'll write of our GRANDE adventure today, later.  First, Sorrento.  A town I really liked, until the end of the day.  It was Easter and Sorrento was like the song "Easter Parade", where people strolled along the avenues--local families in their Church attire and tourists in their casual attire.  Church bells rang and we saw a church on every corner.  We went inside the Cathedral of the city--lots of wood inlays, which are noted in this area.  I bought one.  Statues had cloaks, lots of marble.  We strolled to the edge of the cliff to view the coast and saw very expensive hotels and the coastline below.  Like Carmel or Monterey in a way. 

We then discovered that transportation was very poor on Easter, of course no on told us.  We had planned to go on a bus to Amalfi down the very winding road. We had bought tickets--after waiting an hour we discovered that there were no buses going, even though we had been sold tickets.  We got a refund and went back to the rail station only to discover that that too had stopped running.  We ultimately got on a hydrofoil back to Napoli, but more on that later.

We were now very hungry and we ate some fabulous food: seafood and meat antipasto; veal Parmigiano; chicken; and a fair lemon/chocolate cake.  We met a family from Scotland with a 15 y o son.  They were staying in Sorrento for one week.  Another British couple was doing the same.  We could have used this as our home base instead of Napoli--who knew.

Now to the boat ride.  Once again there was utter disorganization. People milling about. A blonde La Dolce Vita in her silk snake-gold skintight pants. The young gangster in his fedora with 2 girlfriends.

The boat sped to Naples trying to break the speed record.  Long before the shoreline, passengers queued up to get off. This universal behavior is so puzzling--there was nowhere to go until docking.

This time we easily found our way from the Marina Plaza to the Shuttle Bus and met 2 young Venetian women.  They considered southern Italians inferior and crude (how true, how true).  I thought of my Italian grandmother--Grandma Ferranti--she came from the Naples area.... in Rhode Island she had a produce garden behind the house.  Of course she would. That was her heritage.

Monday, April 5

We got up early to get a train back to Rome to connect to Florence.

We haggle with the taxi drive who wanted to charge more because it was a day after a holiday and it was 7 AM.  Carl put up a fight and called a second cab...it price...some fights you can't win.  We rushed to the 7:10 train which was PACKED with young men...like a cattle car/ like a refugee car, like nothing I'd ever experienced.

The train stopped twice and more young people packed on--pushing, yelling, smoking cigarettes or dope.  I was sitting in the tiny corner of the landing area between two cars...the young men treated me respectfully--they called me "Signora"--I felt like their mama or the Madonna.  I never was so close to so many crotches or asses...if I wasn't a lady I'd have had quite a field day.  Carl was standing on the other side of the landing--finally, when the train stopped at a station, we got off...we really both felt we would be crushed or maimed if we stayed on.

Now, where were we?  A tiny station--nowhere--in a field--called Falcione--surprisingly there was a snack bar, which was very clean and well stocked--nice man ran it.  We had cappuccinos and chocolate croissants. Took photos in front of the water fountain that must have been there since Rome was built by evidence of the mold on it's inside. 

The next train to Rome was also packed.   Cattle calls from the passengers, equally insulting to me and to Carl...One guy asked Carl where he was from and how old he was--naive Carl didn't get his drift...I yelled to the young man, "HE'S MINE".... I told Carl not to wear that bright yellow shirt or white Reeboks.

We didn't take that train, but we took the next one to Forme--wherever that is.  It's a hasty decision and Carl leaves his backpack in the Falcione station--we lose our travel book, umbrellas, medicines--but we'll manage.

This train is crowded but not as packed as the others.  We stand in the landing area again. The sights around us:  a beautiful young man like Donatello's "David"; another pretty young man with blue eyes whose face is like a Vatican Angel fresco; a non-Italian kid who looks like he is about to faint or have a seizure.  He wore his cap over his crotch.  Carl told him to sit down--the boy declined.  I tell him Carl is a doctor; he still declined. Whatever.

Sitting in the car behind us are a group of young men.  The blonde one seems like the leader.  He's sitting on the leg, sideways, of a dark skinned lad. The boys are passing a "cigarette" back and forth and their friends are encircling them. The blonde's neck and face get redder and redder.  Carl tells me to look at them because they're going to kiss.  I say "No way"...The blonde is totally red--he stands up with a hard-on obvious thru his denims and the darker boy also stands. The blonde sits down and the darker boy sits directly on the blonde's hard-on and wiggles about.  The other guys watch and continue to pass the dope around.

The train stops several times for no known reason. Just because...people get off to stretch their legs and get some air. Including Carl.... Sometimes I think he looks for trouble. He calls it an "adventure".

The train passes through hills and farms. Not as lush as in Napoli.  There are outpost guard towers throughout--probably part of the Roman Empire.  There was an old WW II fighter plane in someone's farm field.  There were sheep and a few cows--black and white--ugly--not like those in the French countryside.  The train ride goes on forever. We got on the train at 7:15 AM for a 2 hour ride back to Rome. It is now noon--5 hours later and there is still no city in sight.  Just fields and farmhouses.  We stop briefly at a station I've never seen on a map, "Latina/Cisterna” Where the hell are we????    Why Sandra, we're in Latium.  Carl and I really are excellent travel companions...who else could handle this with such aplomb...no whiney from this dynamic duo.

Finally, around 1:30 PM we pull into Rome--an utter madhouse.  First we go to the bathrooms, which seem to be prostitute/gay cruising grounds.... We stop at the Europass AID office to ask for info--none available.  Trains and times are posted. Who knows if they were correct? Ask Eurostar ticket agent--he tells us the train for Milan via Florence is at 2 PM.  We stop at the Avis Car Rental--the guy is on the phone and never gets off. No cars are available...Hertz is not even open. So we go to the local McDonald’s--Big Mac, Real Coca Cola, and salted Fries--YUMMY--we'll show them. And we'll buy McDonald's stock when we get back--so there...over to the train track and we wait for the 2 P M train. We meet an older man and his 26 year old "daughter" from Cleveland. They rave about Sicily.  We share our horror stories of Napoli and the trains.  Somehow, I get the impression these folks think we're exaggerating until 2 PM comes and goes.... at 3 PM, there is a sudden movement of the hoard as the train to Milan is now arriving on another track.  Mad scramble...Carl, my Lewis, reads a reserved seat sign on a compartment--4 of the seats are reserved from Florence to Milan, which means we can sit down from Rome to Florence.  Hallelujah!!!!!!!!!!!!

The compartment is roomy and air-conditioned and we doze as we watch the now lush countryside pass...there are a lot of tunnels and our ears keep popping. 

Florence lies ahead. We see the Doumo and the Palazzo Vecchio.  The city looks clean and organized. And civilized.  No wonder the northerners look down on their southern relatives in Italy.

Carl goes off to find us a hotel. I relax. Finally.

In short order, he returns...we are returning to the Hotel Croce di Malta where we had stayed on our last visit to Florence.  It takes me awhile to jog my memory--last time, it was fall and rainy and dark. Today it is spring and bright and sunny.

The Duomo is spectacularly beautiful--there is nothing like it in the world--white and pink and green marbles; statues; carvings.

There are lots of people lying about, lots walking. 

The city is definitely ancient--it smells old--but it is clean and orderly.

The locals are definitely a better class than my brethren in Napoli.  Even the young tourists are better behaved.

Carl buys me an exquisite large silk scarf of golden butterflies and roses with a royal blue border--from a street vendor.  Of course, I just don't know how to drape it--that takes a real talent.  Carl could do it easily, but not me.  Hmmph!!

We eat at a self-service restaurant we recall; good seafood and pasta.

Then we continue our stroll to the River Arno and pass by the Uffizzi Gallery. 

The fantastic fountain is still in the Piazza della Signoria, but now couples are prevented from sitting or lying in each other's arms like we did last time in the rain on the balustrade of the fountain.  What a loss!!

Carl wanted to find the Vivoli Gelateria--it was closed, but there's always tomorrow.  We'll be here almost a week.  I think I like Florence a lot better already.

We try a new type of delicious yellow long pear--delicious.

Tuesday, April 6

We awaken to birds chirping and the bells of the Duomo peeling--how charmant--oops, wrong city. But you know...

Breakfast is heavy on starch-cold tea-good grapefruit juice. They served sweet condensed milk for the cereal.  Will Carl make it without his eggs?

Off to the Uffizzi...long queue at 8 AM--it's cold out--glad we wore our coats.  We meet a nice young couple from Finland on a weekend holiday.  Many rooms in the Museum are closed, but there are still a lot of great ones to re-visit.  Botticelli's "Birth of Venus" and "Primavera" are true masterpieces, as are his many Madonnas--one has a veil that looks like spun gold.  This time I found the comparison of the annunciations fascinating--e.g.  Martini's painting where the virgin pulls her cloak away in fear; da Vinci's where the angel has the Mona Lisa profile.  Thru a crack in a door to a closed area we sneak a peek at Carravagio's "Bacchus".  My favorite work, which I have framed at home, is Fillippo Lippi's "Madonna" and in person it is as breathtaking as ever.  The now famous Fiorentino's "Musician Angel Playing a Lute"; Michaelangelo’s "Holy Family" where all the figures, even the women, look like muscle-men.  Raffaello's "Our Lady of the Goldfinch" with an exquisite face, but a work in need of restoration.  Tizziano's "Venus of Urbino", where Carl says I blushed when seeing the rosy glow of her perfect nipples.

We strolled over and among the San Lorenzo outdoor market stalls, where leather goods are sold on the streets.  We go into the San Lorenzo Mercado and have a beef sandwich at Nerbone's--as good as ever and still the best bargain with local flavor.

We find our way to the Medici Chapels--there are 2 tombs there done by Micahelangelo for Lorenzo and Giuliano Medici.  Lorenzo's tomb has a helmeted figure and below him are an older man "Dusk" and young women with beautiful thighs, "Dawn".  Giuliano's tomb has a uniformed man and below him are "Day" as a man, and "Night" as a woman with a beautiful face and a wrinkled body.  In the same room is a "Madonna and Child" also by Micahelangelo.  He did an interesting triple staircase that we walked down.

Over to Santa Croce Cathedral where a lot of renovation was going on.  Donatello's "Stone Annunciation" is exquisite in shades of blue/grey with gold embellishments.  There are frescoes by Giotto.  "The Death of St Francis" and monuments to Dante, Rossini, Galileo. 

The highlight of this day came at the world famous Vivoli Gelateria.  It again took us a long time to find it and we were very hot and thirsty when we did.  We splurged and each had 5 flavors of ice cream.  Melon was my favorite--Carl's persimmon wasn't available until the fall.  As we sat eating slowly, exhausted, a woman came by our table dressed in a white cooking outfit and Carl asked if she was the Chef...She said, "Yes".

Soon we found ourselves having water and then cappuccinos with Sylvana, the third generation head of the Vivoli.  Her father came over briefly.  She told us of going daily to the markets for the ingredients for the ice creams; we peeked in the kitchen with its huge blending machines.  Sylvana told us she loves to go to Las Vegas and gamble and has been in L A few times--a family member lives in our neighborhood. She goes to her family's country home in Tuscany on the weekends and sees no reason to live anywhere else in the world but in Florence.  She told us that pickpockets only spend a few days in jail in Italy and murderers spend only 10 years.  They have to keep spaces open for the Mafia boys...but what must the Italians do when the murders are released in 10 years???  We have our picture taken with Sylvana, exchange e-mail addresses, and give each other the double Italian kiss/kiss.  WOW!!!

We're still in quest for leather purses for me.  We had stopped in at the Santa Croce Leather Factory which was very pricey; went into numerous shops including our old favorite GIOIA CHIARA near our hotel but her purses were too large and sporty--I did buy 10 change purses for relatives and friends.  The purses were bargains to us at $3.00 each--good workmanship.

We again had dinner at the same self service restaurant and met a couple from Santa Fe, New Mexico that had had quite a time traveling--they went to Switzerland instead of the south of France because they mistook the names of the towns.  But at least they were on an empty first class train. Nothing like our nightmare train ride from Napoli.

As if we hadn't had enough problems, when we were waiting to get into the Medici Chapel, Carl entered a local pharmacy and bought an Italian version of the Ben Gay rubbing cream that he had lost in the backpack.  When he applied it to help his nighttime aches he developed a severe rash within 30 seconds.  He really developed a contact dermatitis and broke out in a burning RED rash--what else can go wrong??!!  Fortunately the rash faded as the night wore on, but it was pretty scary for a while.

Wednesday, April 7

Another day in Florence----Off to the Academia to see "David".  We and hundreds, or was it thousands of other tourists.  The queue is at least 2 hours long, but Carl manages to cut into the line and we get in quickly.  "David" is an incredibly awesome statue.  I am more overwhelmed at seeing it this second time.  No matter what angle you view it from, he is a perfect form; a gorgeous man.  That it was chiseled from marble and is so tall is amazing.  The "Pieta" by Michaelangelo is in the same room and is an unfinished later work--the body and face of Christ are realistic and beautiful.  The "Four Prisoners” are unfinished works for the tomb of Julius II and are interesting to see; how Michaelangelo brought life from a piece of rock.  Such a talent the world has never known before or since.

Carl is a happy camper: we find a Frommer's tour book of Italy that replaces the one we lost in his backpack.  It is the best series of travel books.  We're glad to have our trusted traveling companion back.

We visit the church and cloisters of San Marco. The cells of the cloisters have frescoes done by Fra Angelico.  His famous, beautiful "Annunciation" is at the top of the stairs.  There is a room of frescoes done by Bartolomeo, an interesting "Last Supper" by Ghirlandaio, complete with grapes on the table--Carl insists they are cherries; a cat in the foreground and geese and a peacock overhead. 

Angelico's painting of "The Last Judgment" is very good the elected on the left dance; the damned on the right are carried off by lizard demons and put in boiling pots.  It is interesting to see that clergy and nuns are among the damned--no one is spared at this last judgment!!

Finally, we select my leather handbags. They are exquisite--made in a family owned shop for 30 years.  We get a pair of small shoulder bags, brown leather and tooled black leather; both have gold chains that the owners cut to the "perfect" length for me. 

Carl says I don't know how to stand straight. I tell him I have sloping shoulders.

He shrugs... Whatever.  The purses are beautiful...

Carl also gets me a beautiful black purse--a style with a belt across the top.

In the U S these 3 bags would cost several thousand dollars.  We paid, or should I say Carl paid much, much less.  He's so good to me and his taste is first class.

Lunch again at the Nerbone in San Lorenzo Mercado.  We have minestrone and pasta with meat sauce.  THE BEST and a bargain with a full bottle of red wine--quite potent.  I can hardly walk back to the hotel and I pass out once I arrive. 

We meet 2 teachers from Canada chaperoning 88 teenagers...I'd rather have stayed home.

Along our walk back to the hotel and passing out there, I get cookies which Carl eats immediately munch on them later.

After our nap we find many of the shops closed for their early afternoon rest.  This is a smart idea; it gives one a second wind.

We return to the River Arno-pass Harry's bar; we cross the second bridge west of the Ponte Vecchio.

I want to find the Church of the Carmines, which lies south of the main city, with a famous fresco by Masaccio--"The Expulsion of Adam and Eve".  We finally find the Church and hurriedly sneak into the roped off area to catch a glimpse...Fabulous--well worth the long trek.  It was right out of the picture books.

On the same wall in the same alcove are other beautiful frescoes by Masaccio including "Paying Tribute". There is a huge statue of Mary giving the scapular (this is 2 brown pieces of square cloth with a picture of Mary on each square that is worn on a card or ribbon around your neck. Catholics still wear them today, but it is far less common than the Rosary practice).

It begins to rain as we walk back to the hotel.  We cross the "bridge of gold".  So named by me for this is where the jewelry merchants are. The jewelry design and quality are incredible.  The prices are high. We look at a few pieces and fall in love with gray/pink pearls that were so amazingly gorgeous that I took pictures of them thru the window.  Once again Carl picks out the best and it has a correspondingly high price tag.  We don't buy, just stand in awe.

One could go crazy with the leather and jewelry in Florence.  At least I could....

Tonight the food at the self-service restaurant isn't as good--my chicken is a back (ugh) with no meat--time to try other places.

We make it back to the hotel only slightly wet, but Carl slips on the hotel floor as he gets our railway tickets from the safe deposit box.  He says he fell here last trip and that he falls on every trip we take...it does seem that way.  I, of course, look down when I walk so my falls are infrequent.  And in Rome, I even found a coin on the street!!!!

Rain is falling as I drift off to sleep--tomorrow off to Sienna.

Carl's underwear and socks hang from the chandelier and another set hangs at the window...how Italian he's become.........

Thursday, April 8

It rained all night--Carl had a terrible time of it--pain in his head-severe-and leg--"cause" related to not eating protein today? Fatigue? Multiple allergies from the pollens that are all over Florence? He has a constantly running nose...   All I have to contend with are hot flashes.  Hotels in most of Europe don't have heat, even if they are 4 stars--so you pile on woolen blankets.  Carl is sleeping with 3--I'm sleeping naked with no covers!!! Aren't we the compatible couple!!

We decide to make the trip to Sienna and San Gimignano.  We start with breakfast at the Mc Donald's in the train station and Carl feels like a new man--it's amazing what eggs and grease can do for him.

The train ride is pleasant thru the Tuscany vineyards and green hills dotted with medieval buildings and present day homes in terra cotta or yellow shades. 

By the time we arrive in Siena it is raining very hard. Even some hail.  We trek up a small hill to the bus stop. Carl has to return to the station to buy bus tickets--in short order with the other tourists (not too many because of the rain) we find ourselves entering a sloping area in an ancient city that opens onto a large plaza, the "Piazza del Campo'.  In its center was a short linear carved fountain, "The Fountain of Joy".  The surrounding buildings lining this large even more sloping oval area were in different colors: pale terra cotta to bright gold; and in different styles: Romanesque and Renaissance. 

As we wandered around Sienna we found a candy making shop, "Bini", where we bought 2 large pan fortes--these are flat candy sheets like torrone but made of candied fruits and chestnuts.  We bought a dark and a light style.  Carl, of course, had asthma attacks from the light one.  We think it must have been due to some spices is this type.

The Duomo had a fabulous black and white zebra marble column and arch motif--at the top of the columns were heads of men--? Religious clergy.  On the floors were fantastic scenes of biblical stories or myths.  The pulpit was supported by 4 marble lions and had carved bible scenes included.  "The Crucifixion" and "The Slaughter of the Innocents" contained lots and lots of babies.  There was supposed to be a box containing the arm of St John the Baptist, which John had used to baptize Christ, but the room containing the box, was closed...that seems to happen frequently.  Do adults really believe in these relics and how come?  Most of the time the rooms containing bottles of blood and bones are "closed"....

In the baptistery was a font where several famous sculptors each had done a section including Donatello.  The frescoes in the Duomo were beautiful.

We caught a bus in front of the Jolly Hotel, a pricey hotel built in 1880 that was in a lovely park like square.  It was again raining, but lightly.

We took the bus back to a train station that took us to Poggibonsi--I swear that's the name of the town.  Then another bus for 11 kilometers, which is only 6.6 miles, up winding country narrow roads.  I don't know how the driver made that hairpin turns. It took 45 minutes. 

We again were sure glad we hadn't rented a car.

Through the bus window we saw San Gimignano--a skyline of towers and fortresses...as many as 72 at one time. 

The bus let us off at a gate.... we had an incredible view of the countryside of Tuscany--it was picture postcard perfect.

Then we started our walk thru a narrow high portal into the 12-13th Centuries.  It felt very ancient and we took lots of photos. 

We wind our way through alleys and streets until we come upon the "Piazza del Cisterna" that contains a very ancient well.  The inside of this cistern is filled with lovely living green leaves.

After much to do about if the Duomo is free or not, like our travel book says it is, we go inside. These frescoes were even more fabulous.  On the right wall were scenes from the Old Testament, including the Creation of The World and Adam's Creation, Adam with the Animals, The Creation of Eve, Noah Building the Arc/loading animals on and later disembarking, the Tower of Babel, etc.  On the left wall were scenes from both the Old and New Testaments.  On the far left panel, Christ from the Annunciation to the Resurrection. 

These were some of the most extensive and beautiful frescoes I had ever seen.  At the end of the church was "The Last Judgment" with the good guys typically being portrayed under a layer of angels; but the bad guys were depicted in a most grisly manner: lots of demons and torturing.  Bartolo di Fredi--what a talent, did all of these frescoes...

We again wander down the streets of the city--they are all narrow but manageable on this rainy day...on a hot summer day jammed with tourists it must be awful.

We buy 2 boiled egg holders in Tuscan designs and sample the regional wine.  This "Vernaccia" is a potent, white wine.  A sip was enough.

We shop for a backpack, but none was found.

We waited for a bus and headed back to Poggibonise, but not before I "sat" on Carl's leg and did a lap dance while I serenaded him with "Come-on Baby Light My Fire".  As a result of my meaty thigh on his stork-like thigh, when we were going from the train at Empoli to Florence, Carl's leg went weak and he fell to the ground...fortunately he wasn't hurt.  Just scared.

On the train we met a girl from Milan studying archaeology.  She wore silver and turquoise, which she claimed were Egyptian or Tuscan not American Southwest.  Whatever.

We arrive in Florence and get burgers and fries again at McDonald's--and we walk through the underground promenade to the plaza near our hotel. 

Carl is very glad to be back--and in short order he is asleep and I am writing.

Friday, April 9

Our hotel room is 229.  Next door in 228 is a couple. The women must hold the world's record for the number of orgasms (we think a lot were fake)--she kept us entertained with her moans and screams into the night and as the birds began chirping, so did she once again.  Voices are funny.  By the sound of the couple's voices we put our "neighbor" at 40 and her man, the quieter sort at 45-50.  I suspect they were doing all sorts of things that Carl knows all about--not me--I suspect there was even some spanking going on. They must be Napoli!!!

During the night, perhaps from the x-rated sound show on the other side of our wall, my hormones decided to kick in--Carl was sleeping and made me wait until morning for amore.the wait was worth it.

The weather this morning is cold and inclement, so we bundle up for a train trip to Perugia.  Carl insists I not curl my hair and wear it wild...as the day goes on and I look more and more like a dork, he regrets this decision.  I wear my hat from Oxford all day.

Before we get on the train, Carl shops for a backpack to replace his lost one and finally gets one from our Lydia of Gioia Chiara and then soon discovers that the zipper is broken and the strap for the back is too short.  He, as usual, frets about it all day until our return from Perugia when he hurries to the shop and Lydia fixes the zipper and assures him she can lengthen the strap tomorrow.

The train ride to Perugia is through Umbria.it looks very much like the ride through Tuscany with lush green hills dotted with houses.

Perugia is a wealthy college town amid medieval buildings.  The base of the city buildings dates to the Etruscans. It is a city that closes down from 2:30 to late afternoon.  Fortunately I had read this in Frommer's and we selected a 4 star restaurant, "La Rosetta" in the hotel near the square where the local bus delivers tourists, to eat. 

But first we ask a college student who is French and is in Vet school here to take our pictures. He does so with Assisi in the background.

The restaurant is popular with politicians and celebs during the yearly jazz festival--it is quite upscale--real waiters, linens; quite a change from our usual dining places this trip.  We order delicious ravioli stuffed with ricotta and spinach in a creamed walnut sauce and chicken breast in creamed mushroom sauce.  The bread is grainy--the breads in each town are quite distinct.

We discover that Perugia can be seen in 1/2 hour.

The center of town is the "Piazza IV Novembre" in which there is the "Grand Fountain" in front of the local Duomo.  This fountain didn't look too grand to me compared with the really grand ones we've seen in Rome and Florence, but this fountain did have interesting sculptured panels.  And the lady statue in the fountain's center was covered with moss.

The Duomo was unfinished.

We wander into a tiny church with frescoes by Rafaello.

We couldn't find any of the world famous Perrugia chocolates or pottery, but we did see a few pieces of pottery with the trademarked dragons among flowers and vines.

We had tea and fruit cups at an upscale McDonald's and went into a large department store--a downscaled Kmart.  Why so many McD's?  The olive oil can kill you after awhile. And how many underwear changes can one make per day!!

We met 2 interesting men on this trip--the young veterinary student and one on the train who helped us with our Italian pronunciations.

Oh--when Carl got off the train some attractive young Italian man smiled and said "Ciao" to him---well, it is Italy and I guess Carl still has "it" for Italians.

When we return to Florence--thank God--we spend the evening wandering the streets and pass by Dante's House. We have a wonderful meal of pork chops and flan at a self-service cafeteria (Leonardo's) owned by people Carl said looked just like him--turns out they are Jewish and have lived in Florence for an eternity.  They're closed tomorrow for Sabbath, so we might not be able to return to further sample their wares.

In the Piazza del Poppelo we hear the next Paul McCartney serenading the crowd and hawking his CD.

We almost attend a concert by a group from Charleston, SC--but we pass realizing there would be no one we knew in the group.

Saturday:  We slept well except for our neighbor in room 228.  I've decided she is a hooker working a biological-psychiatric conference in the hotel.  At midnight this man's voice is younger and she is less vocal than last night.  At 6 AM she is at it again; at noon she is busy and at 4 PM she has a "do not disturb" sign on her door. HMM!!!

By now my hormones are overpowering the Tamoxifen and Carl has to succumb to my sexual overtures.  I'm on a roll....

We spend the day wandering in Florence.

We go into the Bargello and admire the Michaelangelo "Bacchus" and a more effete "David" done by him 25 years after "THE David".  There, again, is Donatello's "David", Giambologna's "Winged Mercury" and many sculptures by Cellini and della Robbia.

We walk through the leather market again and I buy 4 belts and Carl gets 3 silk ties.

Then we eat at Nerbone's where the young server smiles at "the tall man and the short lady".  We have pasta, chicken and a cold salad of potato-beets-cauliflower-lots of garlic.  All were very fresh.

We go into the Duomo and admire 2 frescoes of men on horses and one of the Last Judgment and a poem by Dante.

We go to the Ponte Vecchio and shop for jewelry.  Carl picks a beautiful pair of gold earrings that light up my face.

We've made quite a haul in Florence with leather bags, belts, scarves, ties and jewelry--all beautiful and all at bargain prices.

Time to nap----how can I describe the plumbing in our $185.00 per night room:  it sounds like rushing loose water whenever you flush.  The shower is so tiny when you use it, it floods the floor.  There is no heat, but we do have 4 woolen blankets to keep us warm. True, we can't move under their weight. And Carl continues to have a running nose from all of the pollens and continues to experience right knee and hip pain.  We can't open our windows for fear of letting in mosquitoes; they were delicate looking but hungry for American blood. The bells in the Duomo go off every 15 minutes from 6 AM to 8 PM.  It sounds like the Church is calling every faithful to it immediately--like the Pope is arriving or something.

Our naptime is also punctuated by the "lady" in 228--she must have earned enough money to take a trip to Los Angeles by now. I wished she'd leave, now, so we could get some sleep...

I've decided to call our time in Florence: "Who is that mystery lady in room 228?"

On our way by her room later that day, I took off the "Do Not Disturb" sign and on our way back in Carl put the "Make Up Room" sign on.  But, she wasn't to be disturbed by our sign changes.

We took our evening stroll to the train station's McDonald's, past the Duomo and bought another beautiful scarf from an Asian girl for 8000 Lira ($4.80).  We went into Vivoli for one last gelato--the chocolate mousse was very good and discovered that we were too late to enter the Marino Marini Museum near our hotel.  But we did pass Shelly's House and many interesting statues that line the loggia and streets of Florence.

We plan to go to Bologna tomorrow for spaghetti Bolognese and their famous mortadella.

Television in Florence is quite interesting.  Of course, there is CNN droning on and on about the Kosovo Crises--constantly re-running or repeating the same news angle--we felt they were attempting to brainwash everyone.  There was a weird talent show complete with a pregnant hostess exposing her huge belly and a man who hammered nails and a drill into his nose and swallowed knives, a lady with hula-hoops and a cute white puppet group.  The "Nanny and Friends" were dubbed, as were classic movies like "Streetcar Named Desire".

Sunday:   The trip to Bologna was quite an ordeal. The train was an hour late and when it arrived it was already packed--shades of Napoli. We got on and stood between cars again.  There was a middle aged man, "the boss", who kept order and a lady who worked for Calvin Klein that Carl spoke to a lot--hmm----a drug addict, young guys and the lady train attendant.  We stood the 1 1/2 hour trip.  When I went to take off my jacket, "the boss" raised his eyebrows "Signora".

The train station was so confusing. Where to get a ticket? Or the bus to town?  In the bathrooms there were metal locked boxes for used syringes--honest!!     

The tourist office told Carl it was a 10-minute walk to the central area.  He naively believed her.  I knew it would be at least 30 minutes and I was right.

The walk was through a colonnaded shopping promenade that was having a flea market.  We entered The Basilica of St Peter's where they were having Sunday Mass and I took Communion.  There were 2 altar servers holding a linen cloth to catch any hosts.  The Basilica had a huge wooden sculpture of Mary and other women with the dead Christ at their feet.

We walked to the Piazza del Nettuno to see the famous "Fountain of Neptune" considered risqué when built due to his large organ that the city fathers wanted to be covered by Neptune's hand.  It wasn't covered and it wasn't risqué to our eyes.

Near the Fountain was the Basilica of San Petroneo, which contained a very ancient stone crucifix and frescoes including ones of heaven and hell.  The outside was started in 1390 but work on it was sharply curtailed when the pope learned the city planned a bigger church than St Peters in Rome.  This church was huge inside. 

On the outside of the church students were protesting the Kosovo war and some older men were gathered for a heated discussion.  Bologna has a history of being politically active in socialism, communism, gay rights, drugs, etc.

There are 2 towers in town that lean. The smaller one, "Garisenda", was being repaired and cloaked in scaffolds; the larger one, "Asinelli", was like a stone tower.

We walked down the Via Santo Stefano where they held an antique flea market to St Stephan's 4 churches in one.  The oldest one was having Mass and was very simple; built in the 5th Century; Charlemagne stopped here once.  The other 3 portions were closed for lunch.

Speaking of lunch we had a hard time finding any place to eat in Bologna but finally did find one and ordered the regional specialties: Mortadella and Spaghetti Bolognese-not bad. 

A man from "La Dolce Vita" complete with sunglasses, cellular phone and his "daughter" on a cellular phone were next to us.  Also, at another table were a mother and her "daughter" who gave off very intimate vibes, Carl said.

We find our way back to the Basilica of St Dominic and see a marble altar inside which many artists worked upon: Michaelangelo we think did a small angel on the right side.

Somehow or other we made in back to the train station.  Again there was a mob of people. 

Some guy was trying to push his way off of the train while we, including me, were trying to get on board.  I almost got crushed, but a man in the crowd restored order--my Guardian Angel I suspect.

We actually got seats and in our compartment were a retired couple from Brooklyn on their first European trip and a young man finishing his master's degree in education in Florence.  I enjoyed him more than the couple.

By the way, the Calvin Klein lady told us on the train into Bologna that some of the train overcrowding was due to the east coast of Italy's trains being used for Kosovo stuff and the west coast trains thereby being overloaded with civilians.  Also, the airlines were similarly affected.  We wonder what will happen when it is our time to return to LA.

We nap in our hotel in Florence and then go to the cafeteria, "Leonardo's", on Via Pecori across the street from #8 and within site of the Duomo.  We love their food; the restaurant is packed with young men who are students and/or in the military, according to a waiter.

We talk over tomorrow's adventure and decide to take a 7 AM train to Venice; I'm fearful that the 9 AM will be crowded and we'll have to stand 4 hours.

I then discover that I lost one of my new beautiful earrings somewhere in Bologna. I feel awful.

Our final stroll through Florence brings us to chalk street paintings of  "Bacchus" by Caravaggio that were not bad at all and to the bronze boar statue whose nose in polished clean by all of the wishers who put a coin in his mouth and rub his nose. If the coin falls into a grate below the wish comes true.  We have no coins, but I rub the snout and make a wish to return to Florence, of course.

The Duomo, as always, looks gorgeous and its bell tower peels 8 PM as we pass.  The bronze doors of the Baptistry are fabulous. 

This city is like a Renaissance Carnival with fine jugglers, singers, Asians and Blacks selling wares on the streets and all around beautiful sculptures and buildings...WOW----

A mosquito bites me all night long.

Carl has a panic attack about waking up on time.  I sure don't fret about that, right now...if we miss one train, there's always another and in Italy who knows what the schedule is anyways.  

By morning that mosquito has eaten us both up; he must be as fat as an Italian grape.  With our luck he's carrying some exotic disease.

Monday, April 10

So we get up at 5:30 AM and drag our luggage in the dark streets of Florence to the train station to catch the 7:15 for Venice.  I must admit the train station is only a couple of blocks away, but I have to complain to Carl anyway on this count.  However, the fates have other plans in store for we weary travelers: all of the trains are on strike from 9 AM to 5 PM, so we can only get as far as Padua, and from there to Venice, a mere 45 minutes, will be on a bus.  If there is a bus.  Oh well, at least we get a seat on the train.

Miscellaneous

Carl claims he's had hay fever most of this trip. True, there are gorgeous purple/pink/blue/white flowers and he does sneeze a lot in the damp churches.  Carl's quote of the day: "You don't take a vacation from health"--which means for me to EAT LESS PASTA!!!!!!

The train from Bologna to Padua today is through flat, large farm areas and some industry; not very interesting.  I prefer to sleep; Carl prefers to fret about our room in Venice.

Turns out the train will go onto Venice's industrial station, Maestre, from where we take a bus to Santa Lucia station. 

There are so many people traveling including tons of grammar and high school kids.  It would take an entire bus for each group to travel comfortably.

Carl puts it succinctly: "They are using up resources they have no business doing at this early point of their lives. These kids no more care about Florence or Venice than the Man in the Moon. They are only having a day at some Disneyland to cut up with their friends, and in the process are annoying so many others."

Carl forgets his glasses on the train station in Venice but retrieves them.

In the shove onto the bus with our luggage I break the strap on my backpack, but in true Girl Scout fashion (a Brownie in my case), I whip out my needle and thread and repair it before we reach the vaporetta.

There is another mad scene when 50+ high school students overtake the boat--such noise---I've reached my toleration limit.  Carl and I are jammed on a seat with our luggage--a man scolds us for not making room for an elderly lady. Carl gets into a verbal altercation.  Of note is that NOT ONE OF THE 50+ TEENS OFFERED A SEAT TO ANYONE...it is truly an egocentric, rude generation.

Somehow we find our way to the Hotel Al Piave, through tiny winding alleys and over minuscule bridges.  We're not sure what to expect; this place was highly recommended by my friend Jean Roerig, but it is only a 2 star hotel.

We are pleasantly surprised.  The hotel has been family owned for 30+ years--there are 15 rooms, very clean, nicely decorated and 16 steps to our room from the lobby.  It has an enclosed shower and is like a Hotel Dauphine.   I'm very comfortable.

We have lunch at a pizzeria recommended by a couple from Kent around the piazza from the hotel.  We have a flaky pastry crust filled with spinach and ricotta and another one with ham and cheese.  We also order a slice of spicy pepperoni pizza and one with 5 cheeses and we split a beer.

Then we walk to Piazza San Marco. The plaza is crowded with tourists and students and pigeons.  Several orchestras are playing and Carl teaches me to tango right there in the middle of the famous Saint Marc's Square.  I need more lessons, but, of course, he's ready to be an Arthur Murray dance instructor.

We enter the Basilica San Marco and admire the extensive mosaic gold ceilings and pay to see the Gold Altar encrusted with jewels.  We both recall our last time here when the streets were flooded and we walked on tabletops.  It was great fun 

We get onto a vaporetta and take a ride to the Lido, a beach resort in the summer, where we buy hair spray and get some Lindt chocolates.

We take another long ride on the Grand Canal and admire all of the buildings.  A ?lady or man dressed in a long mink/head scarf/jewels who sits in front of us is interested in Carl.

If I weren't there, they'd be tangoing on the Piazza!!!

We find our way to the Jewish Ghetto and find it is a moving place once again.

We buy some pears and discover the custom here is that the seller decides which you get--you certainly can't touch or point out which fruit you want.  One vendor dismissed us abruptly--the other let us pick, then he chose the lesser quality ones.

We attempt to get into a cafe for food, but no one waited on us and we left and ate at a self-service near the Rialto Bridge--we paid more than we would prefer for chicken, etc.

Somehow we find our way back to our hotel, but not before we wander upon the young man who made our Venetian masks on our last trip--he remembered us--how nice. And we went into Harry's Bar.

Tomorrow we plan on a trip to Murano. It's my birthday.

For some reason we don't think we will spend an entire week in Venice.  But where we'll be off to next is a good question.

Tuesday, April 13

We FROZE last night.  Carl has bronchitis and I probably have the start of a cold.  We found out at breakfast that there are 2 radiators in our room for heating.  If only we'd known, but we were so exhausted we couldn't think straight.

Breakfast was top quality. The dining room had a beautiful Murano collection.  We met an Asian surgical resident from No Carolina with her mother form Manhattan Beach--small world--we gave them some travel tips.

Today is my 50th Birthday and I'm having too many adventures to reflect upon its significance.

A lifetime mostly of tragedies but ending with the incredible joy of knowing and loving Carl during my 40's.

This next decade with him will surely be my best yet.  CARL: "DON'T TEMPT YAHWEH. THIS NEXT PERIOD OF LIFE IS GOING TO BE TERRIBLE".

We're subtitling our Venice stay as "Mimo", the male version of "Mimi" since Carl is dying of consumption.  It could also be called the Wandering Jew Adventure as Carl travels the 4 corners of the globe like the Flying Dutchman and me his Senta.

The vaporetta to Murano: We float by the Cemetery Island. It is a really lovely day. No rain, no crowds and wandering the island looking at world famous Murano glass.

The son of one of its owners gives us a private tour of the Mazzega Glass Factory.  It was fascinating.  We saw the designers and other members of the team making a plate and another crew making dolphins for chandeliers, and another group making a glass tree for glass birds.  We watched the polishing and quality checkrooms.  All in about 45 minutes.

Of course we ended up in the showrooms with fantastic works of art.  After lunch we returned to one of the more modest showrooms of Mazzega and Carl got me the most gorgeous Venetian pink glass necklace--we didn't and have never seen anything like it anywhere.  Each bead is irregular in its rounded shape, like a fresh water pearl--but large--and the color is a clear pink with a hint of gold throughout. Not strands of gold, just the hint of gold behind the dazzling, but subtle, pink that is famous in Venetian lamp posts.  It was my Birthday Gift, as if I needed a gift.  Carl is my daily gift of love, not to mention once again I'm spending my birthday time in Europe.

In other shops we got small typical souvenirs of a fish for Carl and 2 goldfish for Hannah and me.

We ate lunch at a wonderful restaurant across a canal from Mazzega's that was highlighted by grilled fish freshly caught in the Adriatic.

We both have colds because of the rainy weather and the absence of heat in our hotel room.  We finally learned that the heat is turned on at 7 PM until 11 PM and then restarted at 5 AM until 9 AM--at other times it is Freeze Time.

We return to the Hotel Al Piave to nap and discover a very good TV station from Germany.  The first intelligent news we've had in weeks, except for the International Herald Tribune.  This German station put CNN and most US news shows to shame.

Carl just had to have a Big Mac.  He really has disliked the food on this trip.  So we wandered in search of one and ended up back in Saint Mark's Square area.  Here we asked directions to McDonald's from a young man who said it was against his principles to eat at McDonald's--but he did finally direct us.  Later he wandered in "to use the bathroom" and we asked him to join us and we chatted until 9:30 PM about his experiences as a student in London/his European travels/his philosophy and his classes.  It was interesting to see a young mind at work and a young life on the threshold.  He even walked us back to our hotel--Michael gave us a nice evening...Grazie Michael, find a friend and have a happier life.

We kept on running into a couple with a 3-year-old daughter from Denver: on sidewalks; restaurants; vaporettas.  I wondered why. I know it meant something, but what?

We also met a couple from Chicago at our hotel.  He had lived in West Hollywood for a time. She was newly pregnant and had morning sickness.  He was a real estate broker. We liked them.

At our room the heat went off at 11 PM and we were cold all night.  At 5 AM the heat came on and we showered in a real shower stall.

Wednesday, April 14

We are both SICK with colds.  Mine is in my head, Carl's is in his chest. I want to have an easy day-do a little bit, but rest a lot.  Carl wants to press on and have a full day.  Nothing-new here.  So, I acquiesce reluctantly.

We spend the day walking.  We start at 10 AM and arrive back at the hotel at 7 PM.

During those long 9 hours we walked and walked thru good portions of Venice.  I leave a trail of used Kleenex.  Carl coughing severely.

We went into Piazza San Marco again and into the Doge's Palace.  This trip we were able to see the massive Tintoretto painting of what looked like the Last Judgment. It was "Paradise" and very impressive. The painting was literally done over and around arches and is one of the largest paintings in the world.  The rooms of the Doge's Palace where trials were held have such a feeling of darkness and evil; even more so were the prisons that looked out onto The Bridge of Sighs.  I wouldn't be in these sections of the Palace alone or at night.  I'm sure there are lots and lots of ghosts and spirits here. And not the friendly, happy ones.

We have lunch at the worst pizza chain possible.

We look in many shops trying to match my pink necklace in terms of color or design with earrings.  The necklace was a real find I think.  We have no success.

By late afternoon we are somewhere near the Academia and the Guggenheim Museum.

We come across a fabulous shop that Carl kept the business card from our last trip, where a woman hand knits sweaters from famous art paintings.  We fall in love with one of her new designs, a Modigliani lady--his mistress, actually.  After much deliberation, Carl has Paoloa Carrera take my measurements.  They exchange e-mail addresses and maybe, maybe one day I'll get one of her sweaters.  Really, Carl wants one for himself if she could design a masculine one.  This would be quite an investment, $500,00 and Carl says I'd have to learn how to walk ("One foot in front of the other") to carry it off properly.

Around the corner or so from Paola's is a glassmaker with fantastic rings and pendants. One would look perfect with that sweater.

Finally, we make it to the Guggenheim. It is an interesting place.  It had been Peggy Guggenheim's home and it contains her private collection done by men she supported and slept with.  A lot of them it seems.  The Museum hires young people with some proven interest as artists to do paid internships here for 3 months.  We met a very nice young man from Britain.

Carl enjoyed watching people's reactions to the Marino Marini statue "Angel of the City” that is in the porch area looking onto the Grand Canal.  The sculpture is of a horseman with a large erection.  The young Brit told us the penis unscrews so when religious groups or dignitaries come the penis can be removed from the statue.

It reminded me of how Catholic prelates made Michaelangelo cover the genitals of his Sistine Chapel with painted loincloths Fortunately, with the restoration of the Sistine Chapel these cloths were removed.

Again we find ourselves back at the McDonald's in Saint Mark's Square area and run into the couple from Chicago.  Linda manages a Starbucks and is 29 and this is her second pregnancy--the first aborted recently.  Pierre sells real estate and renovates small apartment.  They are an enjoyable duo.

Finally back to our hotel.  We had stopped in at the Hotel Giorgioni earlier in the day.  We had stayed there last trip.  The deskman had a rather haughty attitude and quoted a price double of last trip's rate.

So we chose properly with our present Faulty Towers in spite of the lack of heat.  Except tonight the bathroom light didn't work and the lady owner arrived with a halogen lamp and a flashlight to play electrician with Carl.  After several attempts including shutting off of the fuses to the hotel, she met with success.

Another day it was in Venice.  Tomorrow we're to go to Padua.

Thursday, April 15

At breakfast we run into Mary, a 75 year old woman from the Pacific Northwest.  We had seen her at the Doge's Palace and will probably see her in Padua.  She's still got that spirit of adventure even with 2 knees and one hip replacement.  Way to Go!!  Even if she seemed disappointed in her grandchildren and daughter in law.

Carl pulls a surprise.  We return to the sweater shop and wonder of wonders, Carl is buying me that fabulous Modigliani sweater.  He spoils me terribly.  He says it's for my 50th Birthday. I remind him he already got me the Murano Necklace and purses and this trip.  He says when you turn 50; the whole year is a Birthday. WOW. I like that.

Paola is 42 and had a French lover once, only.  She takes my measurements and we discuss the fine points of the sweater: we want a nose added and we want Paola's name embroidered onto the sweater.  The completed work should arrive at the end of May. Just in time for the last opera of the LA Opera season.  By then I'll have figured out how to walk like I own the Music Center.

Then we went back to the glass ring maker, Giorgio Nasan. After much ado, we decided I needed a ring made with gray, black lines, brown and a hint of yellow.  It was fascinating to watch him do his art.  His father had worked at a Murano glass furnace and both Giorgio and his brother, who only makes toy animals, do glass artworks.  Giorgio is 32 and his girlfriend is an art student from Cincinnati.  Carl had an interesting discussion with him about art and also about the cost of fresh fish.  Nasan calls his mother when buying fish. What else could one expect...The ring didn't turn out the right color and Carl felt it had too many air bubbles in it, so Giorgio will try again and we will stop by tomorrow for the new rings.

By now it is 1 PM and we stop at a nice restaurant and I have a bowl of soup.  It is delicious.  Then I have some roast chicken while Carl has fish--all with delicate vegetables grilled in butter. We pay 6000 Lira for bottled natural water that we suspect is tap water.

Even though it is mid afternoon by now, we decide to go to Padua. It is only 1/2 hour away.

Padua: Our immediate impression of this university city is very nice. In short order we have taken a bus to the Chapel of the Scrovegni where Giotto did 35 wonderful frescoes.  Most famous ones are Judas kissing Christ, Lazarus and The Last Judgment.  I think they are all worth the trip to Padua.  I loved the ancient wooden benches in this church.

Then we walked to St Anthony's Basilica and made some nice finds along the way.  There are very fascinating sculptures throughout the city: large ones made of wood. We find the University in sections strewn about and walked into the areas of Law and Medicine.  We find "Caffe Pedrocchi" once considered the most elegant coffee house in Europe where we notice that there are 3 separate rooms decorated in the Italian flag colors; seats and walls of green/maroon/white.  We have cappuccinos standing at the bathtub shaped bar with its brass top and lion's feet and covered in Travertine marble.

We do make it to St Anthony's Basilica--he's the saint you pray to when you lose something.  The Basilica has a variety of styles: Romanesque; Gothic: Eastern.  The church is huge and has large ornate sculptures and many chapels.  We find our way to St Anthony's marble tomb upon which we find many personal petitions attached.  Then we go to another chapel where there are relics of St Anthony himself, including his jaw/teeth, tongue, and larynx.  How Grisly!!  They are all displayed in ornate gold repositories.

Donatello did a lot of bronze sculptures at the main altar including the crucifix.

Outside the Basilica is a famous equestrian statue by Donatello noted for its realism The rider is said to look like Lawrence Olivier but our vantage point is not such to make that comparison.

We buy some St Anthony's Bread or cake, whatever.

Back at the Padua train station we dine at a well run McDonald's.  Carl loses his new Italy Travel Book but the counter girl retrieves it.  Carl does feel better with a dose of protein several times a day.  I find a Benneton umbrella.

Friday, April 16

Carl was still coughing his head off and taking Vicodin for cough suppression all the night.  He says he is going to die of TB pneumonia in Venice.  Just like in some famous novel.  But he claims that he isn't interested in young boys, so the novel has to be rewritten by someone other than Thomas Mann.... Maybe Carl is "Mimo" from a rewritten "La Boheme"...  I'm "Humming" at this, because Carl has a strange fascination for a TV news anchor on the German cable news network, DW.  Brian Thomas, Carl says, has the most interesting American accent: like from the mid west with a tinge of something or other. And the way that Brian's hair falls on his forehead is even more interesting.  Now that is "very interesting" in the words of comic Arte Johnson.

Well, "Mimo" is still with us, no thanks to our Nazi proprietress who pretends she is an Italian. She gave herself away when she wore the Tyrolean jacket and the meticulous way she runs her hotel. She also lies: heat is at her whim and it is less and less each day.  My beloved continues with his bronchitis, my diagnosis--TB pneumonia is his diagnosis, not helped by the cold, damp air.

I don't wish the proprietress well...Period.... She'll always be just a 2 star hotel, if she's lucky and doesn't get demoted to a 1 star status.

The winds from the Adriatic are blowing in and we experience a morning flood once again. Like our last time in Venice.

We were able to get back to the jeweler.  He wasn't there, but his mousy looking girlfriend with the very affected dialect, was.  Giorgio had made 10 rings in our desired color scheme.  We selected one.  Then we found another to buy.  Then we found 3 blue ones. They are all FABULOUS!!! Turns out Giorgio has sold his work to Barney's NY, as well as to other shops around the world.   We realize our $60.00 original ring, stamped by the artist, would cost hundreds more in the U S.

We really found beautiful items this trip and great bargains.

We were unable to return to Paola for one last discussion of "my sweater" because of the flooding.

We ended up walking on tables--deja vu.

My new floral umbrella crumpled in the first rainy gust, but our "found" Benneton friend held up well; it isn't collapsible, which is inconvenient, but it is large and handles the elements.

We decide to go to Vicenza, an hour's train ride from Venice.  Its claim to fame is the works of the 16th Century architect, Palladio.  His work is found in piazzas, basilicas and villas.  There is actually a specific architectural style, "Palladianism" (regularity of form, imposing size, lines form the ancient world of Greece/Rome; the Colonial houses of the US are in his style).

When we arrive in Vicenza it is raining.  What else is new?  It rains harder and finally hails. Sure feels like that last trip to Pisa to me.

We trudge on.  We haven't let a hurricane stop us yet.

All along the Corso Andrea Palladio are buildings by Palladio.  His Piece de Resistance is the Olympic Theater, built in 1585 as a classical theater house and it is still in use.

The theater has wooden seating in a half-moon shape, encircled by Corinthian columns.  At the top of the seating area are statues. The ceiling overhead is painted in pastel pinks and blues with clouds to evoke the feeling of being outdoors.

It is hard to describe the stage--there are 3 permanent facades.  One main and 2 sides.

The perspective is amazing.  It looks like you're staring down a street in Ancient Thebes. 

In the stands are students sketching--art or architectural students.  You can try to copy the technique as part of your training, but there are so few masters.  Palladio was truly one of them.

Vicenza is a wealthy, lively small city.  There are grand parks with sculptures, even a copy of Michaelangelo's "Love Slave".  Moss is everywhere because of the dampness.

We only spent 1 1/2 hours in Vicenza, but it was worth the trip, even in the hurricane.

We had had a nice lunch in Venice before coming to Vicenza with an animated waiter from Tunisia.  For dinner we had our usual McD, only found after another long trek through the streets of Venice.

This is our last night in Venice and considering how the dampness, cold and molds affected Carl, we might not be back for a long time.

We stop in at the Hotel Danielli and run into a yahoo couple from Anaheim Hills (at least she knew who Chihuly was).

We take one last look at St Mark's Square and the Basilica of St Mark's.

Another cold night. Each night had less and less heat.... I wouldn't recommend this hotel on that basis alone.

Saturday, April 17

An early start. We run into Mary, our fellow traveler and her family in the dining room and later on the train to Milan.

The 3 hour, really 4 hour, train ride to Milan was comfortable and uneventful.  A welcome change from the usual hustle and bustle.  We had been in Milan on our last trip to Italy and we remembered it as a dirty industrial city.  Our opinion of it didn't change.

Milan's train station had a dangerous feeling.

We stood in the line at the tourist office--met 3 medical students from Granada and was recommended to a Hotel Star Anderson across the street.

By this time it is 3 PM and we are starving.

In Milan, ALL eateries are closed until 6:30 except McD. 

We are rather bored off burgers, fries and light coke, so we attempt, without success, to find another place to eat.  We wind our way onto streets that remind Carl of Broadway in downtown LA (surely not New York).

There is a large outdoor market area where people are selling produce, meats, cheeses, and clothing--everything at the "99 cent Store" quality.  It is packed with people--local’s mainly and lower socio-economic levels.

By the time we are munching our McD, we are both dizzy.  In short order wonderful American grease and caffeine have revived us.

By 5 PM we are in bed for the night.

We are both still sick.  At least this hotel has a thermostat with minimal heat.

Carl wakens me repeatedly because I'm snoring.  The fact that both my nostrils are plugged doesn't seem to make him understand why I'm snoring so.  By 1 AM I am sleeping on the floor in an alcove near the bathroom.  There is a separation door so that gives the "dying" Carl some peace and quiet.

I being able to sleep anywhere, fall asleep on a floor that is as hard as the proverbial rock.

By 7 AM we are dining on local fare.  The best item being slices of bread.  Then we return to bed.  I'll gladly stay in it all day, but Carl, my Marco Polo Adventurer, is getting restless feet.  So we will be off to somewhere.

So, after 3 weeks on the road, a lot like Roger Miller as "King of the Road" and Queen of the Trains, how are we faring?  We are still friends.  A brief spat or two.  Still lovers.  Still willing to drag our suitcases to another global adventure.

Aside from colds, which considering all the dampness and mold and pollens was expected, our bodies are in good shape.

We got eaten by mosquitoes and Carl has insect bites all over his body from somewhere.

I have sunspots on my face from being out in the sun many hours a day--our Travelsmith Hats only came out in Pompeii (and remember I had left mine on the train until Carl retrieved it and I had lost him!).

I've had daily hot flashes.  BIG LONG ONES!!!

Our feet have held up well.

Our weight is probably the same-we walk more but eat more. C'est la vie.

Speaking for myself, I am tuckered out.  I know I'll sleep on the bus and the plane home.

Oh yes, and we do have the customs fiasco to look forward to.

Sunday, April 18

I could have stayed in bed all day, but I knew before long Carl would get restless and we were off to Genoa, the seaport town of Christopher Columbus fame.

On the train were really nice, polite people a welcome change from our usual encounters this trip.  There was a young couple with a son who was from Australia and was now living in Milan and another couple (he Italian, she Caribbean Islander) who were so polite whenever they ate anything they offered us some of it.  We saw them in the Genoa train station on our return.

What I thought would happen in Genoa didn't.  We planned on walking to the old seaport harbor, having lunch there and returning to Milan.  Instead we found ourselves walking through construction, seedy, dark narrow streets headed toward the center of town--we hoped.  We saw glimpses of the sea, the Aquarium packed with people, and the main square with its opera house, museum, church and government buildings. 

This being Sunday most eateries were closed.  We found a pizzeria.  I hurriedly ordered 2 pizzas--quite large--one mixed topping (good) and one with 4 cheeses, which proceeded to have all the cheese slide off onto the floor.  We took the cheese mess home in a box--it arrived in one piece (try that McDonald's!).

Sitting next to us was a couple of men from Norway who were staying in Milan for a 2-week training course in air traffic control.  We had noticed them at breakfast in our hotel. Small world. They told us how they were hustled by gypsy kids outside the train station.

The city of Genoa has a feeling of a seedy sailor town. Some of the alleys are so narrow and dark they look hazardous during the day; let alone what it must be at night.

The train was full on the return to Milan.  We share our compartment with a totally self-absorbed young woman--talking loudly on a cell phone, smoking, listening to a disc-man.  Other people in the compartment seemed miffed, annoyed, put upon, including us, but we all said nothing and Ms Crack head with the tattoos and orange hair ruled over our world.  Something was very wrong in this picture.

Monday:  Of course we couldn't get out of Milan without one more fiasco.  The bus to Malpensa, Milan's main airport, was directly across the street from our hotel.  Buses left every 20 minutes or so.  There was a crowd gathered and true to Italian disorganization there was no line.  Consequently, once a bus pulled up there was a "mad" scramble to put luggage in the holding area of the bus and/or get on.  We were all adults.  No college travelers, no groups of school children or teenagers--just adults from the 4 corners of the globe who had obviously adopted the barbarism of native Italians and were in a pushing, shoving, crush of humanity. In his attempt to put our luggage on, an Asian man pushed and Carl's left hand got gouged.

I got on the bus.

Carl got left behind. 

I had to stay on this bus or our luggage would have arrived without either of us to retrieve it. 

What animals!!!

By the time the bus stopped in the airport, Carl's bus was 5 minutes behind.  That was the second time we lost each other this trip.

Check in went smoothly.

We sought out the first aid room, which was in the basement of the airport, down long corridors and behind security doors.  If one had a big emergency, like a heart attack, one would be dead before you found this place.

An emergency room tech gave Carl his requested Betadine.  Now he's on the long road to recovery.

There are some interesting folks on the plane. In front of us is a 25-year-old college student from Seattle who had lived in Manhattan Beach and went alone for a whirlwind adventure in Europe. Carl gave her an 8+++--she looked like a young, blonde version of his Betsy to me...(no, much better, Carl says).  She doesn't need lessons on makeup or how to walk--she never was a Liza Doolittle, I say.

On the other side of us is a Jewish-Iranian family with 6 children between 3 months and 8 years.  He's a real estate person in Manhattan--his wife is Italian, barely 30, had a rash on her hands (from doing dishes and laundry--YUCK!!)--The children cause confusion, but it could be a lot worse. The man shares his kosher turkey noodle tin can with us.  Carl has an interesting conversation with him on going into churches as centers of art, not religion. The man acknowledges their beauty, but says by doing so "it gives ‘them’ the respect that should only be reserved for the beauty God gives". 

Carl says this mother's patience must be a gift from God and makes comparisons with my mother and her 5 kids.

Carl continues to bleed and asks the nice stewardess for a Band-Aid.  He's keeping his eyes open for the Asian man who injured him so he can punch him in the face. Guess all this Italian animal behavior has rubbed off...

Carl says the worst insult he can ever give me is calling me "Neapolitan".

He wouldn't dare...