Tam and Tom in Sienna, Italy
In late 2011, Mike (Tam's brother) and his wife, Joyce, invited us to travel
to Italy and stay with their family in a villa in the heart of Tuscany. This
wonderfully kind gesture could not have come at a better time for us. Our kids had both moved on, Michelle graduating from Vanderbilt University and Laura in her final year at the University of Miami. The economy was just beginning to return to normal. We were in transition, and a trip like this was precisely what we needed!
For several months, we highly
anticipated and thoroughly planned this adventure. After nearly four years of hunkering-down, we
were primed and ready for it. Within days of the invitation, a box arrived at our door with the Pimmsleur
Italian Language Study Course, which Tam voraciously opened and began immediately. Over the next several months, Tam, while
doing errands in her car, would constantly speak to herself … and she also
began conversing with our dog, Daisy, in Italian. Ciao! Arrivederci! Prego! Grazie!
With only days before our departure, Tam was in full travel mode. Boxes were still arriving daily from the UPS driver. New raincoat. New dress. Special travel underwear that could be hand-washed everyday. Partially-packed suitcases sat on the dining room table. Travel documents neatly stacked nearby. International Driver’s Licenses duly purchased from AAA.
With only days before our departure, Tam was in full travel mode. Boxes were still arriving daily from the UPS driver. New raincoat. New dress. Special travel underwear that could be hand-washed everyday. Partially-packed suitcases sat on the dining room table. Travel documents neatly stacked nearby. International Driver’s Licenses duly purchased from AAA.
So, as we boarded Delta Airlines flight #240 at 2:55 pm on September 21, 2012, we were filled with anticipation for what was about to be a fabulous vacation …
PART I: Under The Tuscan Sun
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Going To Greve
Sitting back in seats 30H
and 30J, Tam and I tried to sleep during the red-eye flight from Atlanta to
Rome. This proved impossible, even
though we had not slept the previous two nights. The flight on the Airbus 330-A was
uneventful. We actually landed an hour
early, thanks to strong tailwinds. The
two of us grabbed a quick bite at the airport while we waited for Amy and Joe
(Tam’s niece and her husband) to arrive from downtown Rome and join
us for the drive up to the villa near Greve (located in the heart Tuscany).
Tam, Joe and Amy
By 10 am, we had packed
our stuff in the Hertz rent-a-van and were driving up A1 toward Florence. The highway was in outstanding condition and
moving fast. Our GPS was constantly
warning us of Police Camera Speed Stations
(more about that later). Tam took over
driving duties for the final hour, which turned into two hours after we missed
the Incisa exit to Greve and found ourselves in Florence. We turned around, following Route 222 through
exquisite vineyards and olive stands.
We serpentined around hundreds of charming centuries-old stone villas
for the next thirty miles. What a gorgeous detour!
We met Tam’s brother, Mike and his wife, Joyce, at the town center in Greve. We stopped for lunch at Ristorante Il Portico, enjoying a fine Chianti in the mid-day sun. The Maccharocini agli Scampi was fantastic!!
We wandered over to the local
grocery to get supplies before heading out to the villa, but it was closed
until 4:30 and would not re-open until 7:30 pm.
This was typical for rural Italy.
Downtown Greve seemed to shut down entirely at noon each day for several
hours. Knowing that we would return
later, we drove east out of Greve and toward Dudda, following a narrow
steeply-climbing two-lane road.
Around each blind curve of the winding stretch was either a bicyclist grinding his way to the top of the mountain … or motorcyclists ripping their way down at high speed.
Tam and her brother, Mike
We met Tam’s brother, Mike and his wife, Joyce, at the town center in Greve. We stopped for lunch at Ristorante Il Portico, enjoying a fine Chianti in the mid-day sun. The Maccharocini agli Scampi was fantastic!!
We wandered over to the local
grocery to get supplies before heading out to the villa, but it was closed
until 4:30 and would not re-open until 7:30 pm.
This was typical for rural Italy.
Downtown Greve seemed to shut down entirely at noon each day for several
hours. Knowing that we would return
later, we drove east out of Greve and toward Dudda, following a narrow
steeply-climbing two-lane road. Around each blind curve of the winding stretch was either a bicyclist grinding his way to the top of the mountain … or motorcyclists ripping their way down at high speed.
Six kilometers from town, near the top of Sugame mountain, we turned left into a driveway with a private gate. We had arrived at Villa (Podere) Santa Margherita.
According to legend, a
thousand years ago, a young woman named Margherita was walking along
via Cesarea, headed for the church of San Giusto in the town Greve. En route, she stopped to rest and pray near
the Sugame Pass, where later there was built a small chapel named the Church of Santa Margherita of Sugame. The chapel stood for hundreds of years, until 1700, when the house and land were converted into a sharecropper farm under the ownership of Count Ferrante Capponi. The property remained within the Capponi family until the mid-twentieth century, when the complex was purchased by a former Nestle CEO for himself and his mistress. He converted and updated the villa during the 1950s. After he died, his mistress sold the estate back to the Capponi family.
Today, located 1,500 feet above sea level,
with forests of oak and chestnut, the villa overlooks the basin of Greve
valley.
Pulling through the gates and up the winding and lengthy driveway, the villa slowly revealed itself to us. Classic old stone and brick architecture with
patina-covered barrel tile roof, it looked exactly like a Tuscan villa
should. It was timeless.
Tam and I were assigned a
lower-level room, to the left of the entry.
It had a king-sized bed … perhaps a foot short. It also had a private bath and shower. The walls were adorned with old etchings and
there were two pine-wood antique cabinets in the corner.
Walking back to the car,
we crossed a small footbridge, where below we could see dozens of large (five
pound) rats milling about and eating carrots that the villagers were throwing
down to them. These nutria, were not a nuisance, they were entertainment.
We returned to the villa
where the six of us drank wine and nibbled on crackers. Eventually, we wandered outside to enjoy a brisk
evening sitting around the long picnic table by candlelight and gazed at the twinkling
lights below. At 9:30, we all staggered
off to bed.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Villa Santa Margherita
The villa was perking at
8:00 am, as Mike prepared to leave to pick up his son David, wife Kim, their
toddler daughter Elizabeth, and her mother Maritza. Tam and Joyce left shortly afterward for the
local fruit and flea markets. I stayed
at the estate, enjoying the cool breeze of the villa patio and writing this
journal.
The present-day villa is
located at the summit of one of the hills that divides Greve from Val d’Arno,
through which Hannibel passed during his march on Rome. It is located among a cornucopia of
naturally-growing herbs, such as rosemary, sage, lavender, and wild thyme. The miles and miles of land visible to the
west are in the heart of the Chianti region.
Looking down the hillside, I could see Castello di Uzzano in the distance.
On the hills behind me and just up the road, was Villa Il Palagio, the 900 acre olive oil and honey producing estate of rock star Sting. We also discovered that our own villa was a celebrity. German director Herbert Palman filmed several episodes of the television series Der Havelkaiser at Villa Santa Margherita in March 1998 (Airing April 21, 1998).
Press photographs of Der Havelkaiser being filmed at Villa Santa Margherita
On the hills behind me and just up the road, was Villa Il Palagio, the 900 acre olive oil and honey producing estate of rock star Sting. We also discovered that our own villa was a celebrity. German director Herbert Palman filmed several episodes of the television series Der Havelkaiser at Villa Santa Margherita in March 1998 (Airing April 21, 1998).
Press photographs of Der Havelkaiser being filmed at Villa Santa Margherita
By noon, Mike had returned
with the new arrivals as the sun finally burned through the thin clouds,
illuminating and bringing the world around us to life. It was about this time that Tam, as part of
her usual cleaning regimen, had overfilled the dishwasher with soap and the
suds were rolling across the kitchen floor.
When she was done, the floor was so clean we could literally eat off of it. |
| David, Elizabeth, and Joyce with Tam |
After another six kilometer drive down to Greve, we stopped for an al fresco lunch at Ristorante Enoteca Fouripiazza. I ordered Tagliatella con Funghi and Tam had Penne Pomodoro. Of course we had wine. This is Italy! The bottle of Nozzole Chianti Classico (2009), made right in the valley, was delicious!
Following the meal, we wandered down to Greve town square and shopped at the artists’ market. Tam bought a very unusual ceramic piece for mother-in-law Gloria back home. I bought a larger belt (knowing I would soon need one) from a leather man who made it on-site.
We had been home about five minutes when Mike arrived from Florence with another load of folks, his eldest son Erik and his wife, Kim, whom he also picked up at Firenze Santa Maria Novella (Florence Train Station). The full compliment of guests was in residence at the villa. It was hopping with energy and the vino was flowing.
Tam and Joyce’s earlier
jaunt to the market had yielded fresh tomatoes, basil, garlic, prosciutto,
pesto, and pasta. Several in the group
helped prepare for a wonderful family meal.
Tam, in particular, made an outstanding Pomodoro sauce. Many bottles of Chianti Classico were opened
and we all feasted on the outdoor lanai overlooking the nightfall on the valley below.
After everything had been consumed and all of us circled around the candlelight, Joe cleared his throat and announced, “I have something to say … Amy is pregnant, we are going to have a baby!!” After the initial screams of joy, everyone shared their happiness for Amy and Joe with hugs and kisses, and more Chianti, of course.
Left: Joe and Kim
Center: Amy and Joe
Right: Kim, Tam and Amy
By 10 pm, the dishes had
been washed and everyone settled into a mild wine-buzz on the patio. The candles soon burned themselves out and
the group, one at a time, slowly slid off to bed.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Sienna
Duomo di Sienna
Piazza del Campo
San Sebastian In Vallepiatta
Bright and early. Well, at least by 9:00 am, all twelve of us piled into Mike’s and my vans. Our
destination was Siena, a relatively short, but intense, forty mile drive on
insanely narrow curving and hilly roads (Route 222 South, known as Strada Chiantigiana). By the time we arrived there, all of our van
windows were open and everyone in the back was turning a sickly shade of
green. This was not as bad as the other
van, where events were slightly worse.
When we reached the soccer
stadium Stadio Artemia Franchi, we
found parking impossible. We wedged our
vans around back, near the maintenance sheds and hoped that we would be no
more than fifteen minutes late to meet our tour guide at the Grand Hotel
Continental. The entire clan rolled into
hotel lobby looking like a submarine crew that had been at sea for two
consecutive years. An elegant lady stood
up to greet us and introduced herself as Maria Elena, tour guide representing VaticanTours in Siena. She was fashionably dressed and sported a
healthy tan. She seemed to be expecting our late arrival, smiled and offered a few words of welcome ... and then quickly directed us out the door and into three thousand years of history.
Parading down
ancient cobblestone streets, Maria Elena described how Siena
developed as a city. Located on a key
trade route between Rome and Paris, Siena became an important financial and
banking center as early as 900 BC. Smaller than Florence, 54 miles to her north,
a rivalry developed that continues to some degree today. As Florence continued to evolve during the
Rennaissance, however, Siena remained locked in time, holding onto its medieval
and gothic roots. This is manifestly
evident in all aspects of life in the city.
Siena has a legendary history,
sometimes bordering on myth. Siena was
initially settled by the Etruscans nine hundred years before Christ. The Romans soon exerted control over the
region and named the town Saena Julia sometime during the first century. One myth is that Siena was founded by Senius,
son of Remus, one of the two brothers for whom Rome is named. In fact, the village emblem is a she-wolf suckling infants
Romulus and Remus. In any case, the term
Siena in both Latin and Roman are derivatives of the word ‘old’. For the next thousand years, Siena swung
wildly between aristocracy and feudalism.
It was conquered by everyone from Charlemagne to the Franks. It was not until the twelfth century that it
became a major center of money lending.
A result of this economic growth was the separation of church and civic
control, and by 1179, Siena had developed its own written constitution. This movement led to a shift away from
aristocratic government and to its establishment as a republic. This philosophy was opposed to that of its
great rival, Florence, and created a long-standing feud that lasted for
centuries.
Maria Elena began by
walking down the Banchi di Sopra and
pointed out several of the early financial buildings that had been built. Of particular interest at the Loggia della Merchanzia was the large
statue of Cardinal Salustio Bandini, who was one of the most regarded
economists of his day … church and business interwoven.
Continuing up the dark and narrow streets, Maria Elena introduced us to her own ‘Contrada’ (neighborhood), one of seventeen that have existed in Siena for a dozen centuries. Hers was named Selva, and was symbolized on surrounding bunting and flags by a rhinoceros on an orange and green background. Selva is associated with the word ‘forest’. Historically, this contrada has best been known for outstanding weavers and were also the finest archers in the city.
Continuing up the dark and narrow streets, Maria Elena introduced us to her own ‘Contrada’ (neighborhood), one of seventeen that have existed in Siena for a dozen centuries. Hers was named Selva, and was symbolized on surrounding bunting and flags by a rhinoceros on an orange and green background. Selva is associated with the word ‘forest’. Historically, this contrada has best been known for outstanding weavers and were also the finest archers in the city.
This neighborhood, like all of Siena, is a labyrinth of crooked and narrow alleys, surrounded by massive five and six story ancient stone structures that give the entire city an epic fortress-like quality. Deep in the heart of the district was the stable for the horse representing her people in the famous Palio race. It was marked with a simple horse-head and horseshoe door decoration.
We had been walking uphill
for most of the tour. At the top of the
hill, we stepped out onto the Piazza del Duomo, the religious center of the
city. In its center sat one of the
finest Gothic cathedrals in Italy, the Duomo di Siena. Completed in the fourteenth century, on the
site of an old Roman forum, the black and white marble striped cathedral is a
masterpiece. We were fortunate that late
September was when the fine-art quality marble floors were cleared of pews and
cleaned. This provided us with the
opportunity to view them unobstructed and in all their glory. Fifty-six floor frescos created by more than
forty artists depicted biblical stories from the Old Testament.
As early as the ninth century, the building served as a bishop’s palace. Pope Nicolas II was elected in 1058 at the Duomo. The Piccolomini Altar, near the library entrance, featured four sculptures completed by a young Michelangelo in 1504. Works by Donatello and Raphael were sprinkled throughout the cathedral. Excavations continue, and as recently as 2003, revealed several thirteenth century frescos hidden behind interior walls.
A few blocks away, thanks to Maria Elena’s connections, we were provided discrete access to their private neighborhood chapel, San Sebastian in Vallepiatta, where all weddings and funerals in Selva took place. These chapels, not open to the public, were very intimate, yet ornate with gold-leaf ornamentation. More importantly, beneath the nave was a large and spectacular repository of all the district’s Palio race winning banners, uniforms, and other relics, dating back to as early as 1610. The private chapel was uniquely fascinating because it exuded with intimacy, the pride and passion of the people of Selva.
Walking from the chapel, we returned to the center of the walled village, the Piazza del Campo. This is where the famed bi-annual Palio horse race is held in July and August. The race dates back to the 1400s.
The race
itself, in which ten jockeys (representing ten of seventeen contrade) ride bareback, circles the
Piazza del Campo on which a thick layer of dirt has been laid, three times and
usually lasts no more than 75 seconds. It is common for a few of the jockeys to
be thrown off their horses while making the treacherous turns in the piazza,
and indeed, it is common to see unmounted horses finishing the race without
their jockeys. The race had been extravagantly
portrayed in the James Bond movie Quantum
of Solace, which had piqued my interest more than usual.
At noon, we
all piled into the Ford Galaxy vans and began another epic sojourn; this time,
westward to Certaldo and Osteria-Enoteca La Saletta. Six years prior, while
visiting Italy with our kids, we were brought there by Peter Zalewski (VaticanTours) and were
given an education in the history of Italian winemaking and drinking. It was one of the highlights of our
trip.
Tam and I volunteered to make reservations there and share this wonderful place. Tam emailed the restaurant from the states and received a confirmation from Giampiero. It was not until later that we learned the restaurant was normally closed on Tuesdays. Furthermore, we were unaware of how impossible it was to get there from our villa. So as the big day approached, Tam and I became slightly wary about this excursion.
This was all topped off with an assortment of scrumptious desserts. Giampiero’s daughter helped him bring out some espressos and coffees. We asked if we could ‘mama’ again, but Giampiero smiled and said she had already gone to bed. Too bad we couldn't thank her. La Saletta did a great job! The meal was a complete success!!
It was only 4:00 pm, so we decided to drive ten miles to San Gimignano. This turned out to be a glorious decision as we spent the late afternoon taking pictures and ducking into the plethora of art shops. The weather was perfect and the setting sun created a dramatic backdrop of shadow and light on the ancient towers. It was impossible to take too many pictures.
Standing atop several walls throughout the city were ‘naked man’ statues that looked either like stylized military men standing at attention, or people getting ready to make a swan dive. It was all part of a provocative public art display that seized the attention of many onlookers.
Florence looked quite different than when Tam and I had been there last, in 2006. The scaffolding that surrounded the Duomo had been removed, revealing the massive and ornate exterior marble finish. The gold Bapistery door panels that we saw being restored at the Accademia Galleria had been returned to the their original locations. Crowds were incredibly dense, literally tens of thousands of tourists milling around the doors, and virtually everywhere else. The masses of people moved in waves, like torrents, throughout the city. Professional beggars and pickpockets were running rampant and were a significant nuisance. Any experienced traveler could see that this would be a tough day.
After exiting the church, we wandered the streets of Florence, taking in the evolutionary architectural history of the city. Around one corner was Dante’s house and around another was Michelangelo’s house. We did stop at Volvi Gelateria, considered the ‘World’s Best’ gelato … at least it is the best outside of Siena.
While I pulled out the map and was working on coordinates for our return to the car and the most efficient way to head home, Tam had spotted another statue of David ...
At 3:00 pm, we all met together and returned to the train station for our journey back to Greve. Following GPS directions, we became hopelessly lost in the narrow streets paralleling the Arno River. After an hour of driving in circles, we chucked the Garmin and followed the green Autostrada signs, eventually making it out of town. A minor crisis ensued when we exited the toll road at the Incisa interchange and could not find our toll ticket. After several minutes of desperate searching, we discovered that it had fallen from the visor and landed on Tam’s driver’s seat, where she had been sitting on it. We sheepishly made it the rest of the way home without further incident,
We all ate another gourmet meal at Greve’s finest family-run restaurant, Enoteca Gallo Nero. The place was spotlessly clean, service slightly slow, and food was world-class. Plenty of Bacchanalia for all!!
We entered the vintage, bright-yellow painted hotel through a large set of dark stained heavy wooden double doors, through the lobby, and into a stone courtyard with a huge panoramic view to the eastern mountains. The restaurant entrance was to the rear of the building and there were several wrought-iron tables sprinkled randomly, some covered by vine-covered trellises.
PART II: Roman Holiday
With each
step through the lobby, up the stairs, and down the hall to the famed
restaurant, I became keenly aware of the sweat running down my forehead and
neck. I was still stressed by the events
of the day. A pretentious receptionist
met us in a small loggia and upon checking her list told us that we were not
welcome … until we presented her with our email confirmation. With a slightly miffed expression, she
grabbed two menus and sat us in a corner, behind some plants.
We continued east, walking past the highly guarded Syrian Embassy to Capitoline Hill, the citadel and nerve center of ancient Rome. In the center of the plaza was a huge sculpture of Marcus Aurelius, surrounded by buildings designed by Michelangelo.
Visually inescapable and near the hill is the Monument Vittorio Emanuelle II, also known as Altare della Patria. Built in the 1900s of bleached-white marble, the massive monument is reviled by local Romans as a tasteless and over-the-top neoclassical ‘typewriter’. Visitors, nonetheless, are struck by the scale and presentation of the building, particularly the honor guard protecting the tomb of the unknown Italian soldier.
To the rear of the Vittoriano is a glass elevator to the roof that offers the most spectacular view of the city. From that vista, we had a clear view of all of ancient Rome … the Forum, the Palantine, and the Colosseum. My camera was smoking! It was well worth the fourteen euros we spent for the privilege.
After walking approximately eight miles, we finally kicked up our feet at the hotel and watched the movies Hope Floats and Dan In Real Life, with Arabic captioning, on Dubai TV in our room.
Part III: Pirates of the Mediterranean
Norwegian had recently introduced a “Freestyle” eating program that actually meant - All you can eat, anywhere on board, free of charge. Limitless Mountain Dew and endless food; the diet that was dormant in Italy for the past two weeks was now officially dead.
Back in our cabin, we watched the lights of Livorno disappear into the darkness as we headed due west to our next destination, Cannes and Monte Carlo.
Climbing
back out of Cap-Ferrat and over the next ridge, we entered onto a small
rotary. In the center of the rotary was
a small boulder, a marker, which has historically divided the principality of
Monaco from France. On that stone were
the simple and understated words … “Principaute de Monaco”.
Monaco is a sovereign city-state, ruled by the royal Grimaldi family since 1297. It is the second smallest (next to Vatican City) and the most densely populated country in the world. Monaco joined the United Nations as an independent nation in 1993. The official language is French, but Italian and English are also widely spoken and understood. It is among the richest cities of the world, with more than one third of its residents being millionaires.
Our bus was one in a long chain of busses all being diverted to a huge multi-level underground bus parking lot, located directly beneath the royal residences. After taking two escalators and an elevator, we finally emerged above ground near the huge classically-styled Oceanographic Museum, built by Prince Albert I. However, more people were paying attention to an innocuously small residence across the street that was in the midst of being painted pink. This relatively modest villa was the house of Princess Caroline. Parked outside was her glamorous petite green Fiat. A single solitary security officer casually stood guard in a telephone booth tucked into the bushes next to the house.
So, what does it cost to live in Monaco, along with Roger Moore, Shirley Bassey, Lewis Hamilton, and Ringo Starr? The price of prime real estate is three thousand euros per square foot in some areas. However, other properties are less valuable. In fact, some experts claim that it is no more expensive than anywhere else in Europe. I have trouble believing it.
Eventually, we made it out of the port and around the rotary dedicated to Christopher Columbus. A tall monument celebrates his famous voyage to the new world. It is a powerful statue of him, standing on a pillar and pointing forcefully … in the wrong direction.
Driving into the La Franca district, we realized that there was fantastic architecture around virtually every corner … the MACBA Museum designed by Richard Meijer … the Miro Foundation Museum designed by Josep Lluis Sert … the CaixaForum designed by Arata Isozaki … and the minimalist 1929 Exhibition Germany Pavilion designed by Mies Van der Rohe. We had hit the architectural mother lode.
The next two hours were spent in the Barri Gothic (Gothic Quarter). Our first stop was the Cathedral of the Holy Cross and Saint Eulalia, originally built in the 1300s, and was the location where Christopher Columbus, upon returning from the new world, brought six Indians to the church for baptism in 1493. Behind the cathedral was the royal residence of King Ferdinand and Isabella. The entrance was unadorned and austere, with only a small sign beside the door … Placa del Rei (Plaza of the king). On the steps to the royal entrance, Christopher Columbus was received by Los Reyes Catholicos (Catholic Monarchs) upon his return from his voyage.
Turning a corner at the intersection of Mallorca and Sicilia streets, the gigantic Basilica de La Sagrada Familia suddenly came into view. It literally took our breath away. There is really nothing on earth quite like it! The incredibly massive size, the intricate details, and bizarre forms were virtually indescribable.
It was Sunday, and the line for entry wrapped for several blocks through the neighborhood. For the sake of expediency, we both agreed to come back to this site in the future and decided to move on. We caught a taxi to La Rambla, the main boulevard of Barcelona. It serves as the artery of life for the city, and on this gorgeous Sunday afternoon, was throbbing with activity. What a delightful and invigorating experience, blending in with tens of thousands of fellow Barcelonans, walking between food markets, art vendors, and street cafes. We stopped at Amaya on the boulevard and shared a freshly-made paella, with Spanish wine, of course, before shopping for our daughters in the small calles of Barri Gothic. Tam found two great antique woven scarves.
¡Lo que un dia increÃble!
Once we topped the crest of Mount Faito, we turned east along the Amalfi Coast on even narrower (sometimes single lane) high cliff roads, thousands of feet about the coast. What was emerging, around each blind corner, was a European version of the Pacific Coast Highway, only twice as treacherous.
Our tour van parked at an Esso gas station and we were informed that in order to get the most of our visit, we would need to descend a series of ramps and staircases more than six hundred vertical feet down to the harbor and beach. This would be the only way to get the famous Positano ‘post card’ photograph.
Giulia arranged for a wonderful lunch interlude at the Hotel Mediterraneo - Vesuvius Roof Restaurant overlooking the Sorrento cliffs from the fifth-floor dining room. We were served a three-course meal of spinach pasta cannoli, mozzarella chicken, and chocolate chip crème mousse.
Back in the van, we drove to one of the largest ongoing archeological projects in the world, Pompeii.
As we walked through the excavation, every so often, we would see a penis image carved into the street. Our guide stopped to explain that the city was covered with them, and they served to ‘point the way’ to the brothels. Roman men were expected to relieve themselves sexually on a regular daily basis, just as they would bathe or eat on a daily basis. Here in Pompeii, they would merely saunter down the street, following the penis pointers, and take care of business.
The sex rooms had a single piece of furniture, a straw or concrete bed … and the walls featured paintings of various erotic acts taking place. Ancient instruction manuals, perhaps?
We toasted a successful cruise as the sun disappeared over Sorrento and Capri.
Epilogue
James Bond - Palio / Siena Chase Sequence from Quantum of Solace
The Palio di Siena is more than a simple horse race. It is the culmination of ongoing
rivalry and competition between the contrade. The lead-up and the day of
the race are invested with passion and pride. Formal and informal rituals take
place as the day proceeds, with each contrada navigating a strategy of
horsemanship, alliances, and animosities. There are the final clandestine
meetings among the heads of the contrade, and then between them and the
jockeys. There is the
two-hour pageant of the Corteo Storico. All this is crowned by
the race; three laps around the piazza. It is one of the great public spectacles in the world, and the passions displayed, based on hundreds of years of rivalry, are still very real.
Sitting in
the square on this sunny and otherwise quiet Monday afternoon, it was easy to
imagine that such a spectacle could take place within the medieval walls. The place was oozing with historic significance.
We thanked
Maria Elena for a fine tour and promptly proceeded to the nearest restaurant
in the square, Ristorante La Costa. Tam and I had another delicious lunch while
boiling in the afternoon sun. I ordered
Penne al Pesto and Tam enjoyed Risotto with asparagus. Afterward, we meandered around the plaza,
ducking in and out of shops, and of course stopping at Gelateria Brivido (our
third in three days).
Everybody
trepidatiously trudged back to the vans, thinking about the drive we had in front of
us. Mike and I decided to take the A1
north to Sambucco and cut across some back roads to Greve, thus avoiding
the threat of Route 222. Everything was
going according to plan until we exited at Sambucco and got lost in an
industrial district.
We pulled
over for gas and Tam had a wonderful conversation with a very nice and typically
Italian (good looking) service attendant.
Ahem. He basically said that our
effort to cut off mileage according to our plan were all in
vain, and that we should go all the way to Florence and then back down Route
222. He pointed at my map and said, “You
are too close to Greve, must drive to here.
If you try to take this narrow road direct to Greve, you will wind up in
the forest.” We listened to him very
carefully, and then promptly drove into the Tuscan countryside on the extremely
narrow (almost) one lane road. For the
next twenty miles, we traversed right through endless vineyards, punctuated by
near-fatal collisions with farm tractors and bicyclists every two hundred yards
or so. One of the highlights, however,
was that we were able to see Castello Il
Palagio, an ancient Tuscan military stronghold now used mostly for wedding
receptions. How the huge tour busses got there, I have no idea.
Eventually,
we cruised into Greve, making it to the villa from Siena in less than an hour
and fifteen minutes, including fuel stop.
Our passengers were only mildly nauseous, however highly terrorized by
the experience. The detour was worth
it!!
We enjoyed
burgers for dinner, cooked quite possibly on the dirtiest outdoor grill known
to man. Some of them had a unique smoked
and earthy flavor from falling off the grill (some for only a few moments). But I digress.
Making
things more thrilling was the visit by five large wild black boars, which had
sniffed their way closer to the smell of burning meat. For desert, the twelve of us ate two boxes of
Siena’s famous almond and powdered sugar cookies.
Left: Kim, Joe, Erik, and Amy
Right: David
Right: David
Superb La Saletta
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
La Seletta Oesteria
San Gimignano
Finally. A good night’s rest. We did not get up until 7:41 am. Most of the group rode down to Greve to
jog/walk around town and eat breakfast.
Tam and I stayed at the villa, reviewing and responding to emails and taking care of other matters back home.
Grandpa Mike and Elizabeth
Stepping out
onto the veranda and looking to the west on the super-clear morning, I could
see at least three progressively distant mountain ridges. On the most distant one, I could just about
make out the twin spires of San Gimignano, at least thirty miles away.
 |
| La Saletta |
Tam and I volunteered to make reservations there and share this wonderful place. Tam emailed the restaurant from the states and received a confirmation from Giampiero. It was not until later that we learned the restaurant was normally closed on Tuesdays. Furthermore, we were unaware of how impossible it was to get there from our villa. So as the big day approached, Tam and I became slightly wary about this excursion.
As a result
of my excellent driving back from Siena, Tam was chosen to be the van driver for
our journey to Certaldo. Things
progressed very well until the first turn just north of Greve and then we
mistakenly thought we wanted A1 and wound up in Florence … again. Tam pulled off an incredible Bat-Turn, pulling out of one toll booth, doing a 180 degree turn in front of six lines of traffic, back through the
adjoining ticket booth, and headed back south.
Mike fared better and arrived at the restaurant before we did. When we walked into La Saletta, they had
already set up a fabulous table for eleven and opened the front doors so we
could enjoy our meal al fresco, somewhat.
Giampiero greeted Tam like she was family, giving her a big hug. Soon, the wine was flowing as well as the
incredible food.
Left Side: Joyce, Mike, Maritza, Kim, David, and Elizabeth
Right Side: Tam, Amy, Joe, Kim, and Erik
This was all topped off with an assortment of scrumptious desserts. Giampiero’s daughter helped him bring out some espressos and coffees. We asked if we could ‘mama’ again, but Giampiero smiled and said she had already gone to bed. Too bad we couldn't thank her. La Saletta did a great job! The meal was a complete success!!
It was only 4:00 pm, so we decided to drive ten miles to San Gimignano. This turned out to be a glorious decision as we spent the late afternoon taking pictures and ducking into the plethora of art shops. The weather was perfect and the setting sun created a dramatic backdrop of shadow and light on the ancient towers. It was impossible to take too many pictures.
Two thousand
years ago, the Etruscans established a small village on the site where San
Gimignano stands now. Fifteen hundred
years ago, the Comune di San Gimignano
withstood the attacks of Attila the Hun.
A thousand year ago, it endured medieval feuds and family
insurrections. It did not, however,
survive the black plague of 1348, when half of its people died, which ultimately forced
it to submit to Florentine rule. Today,
the walled city looks like a Hollywood movie set, absolutely gorgeous
Romanesque and Gothic architecture, perfectly preserved in the twenty-first
century.
Standing atop several walls throughout the city were ‘naked man’ statues that looked either like stylized military men standing at attention, or people getting ready to make a swan dive. It was all part of a provocative public art display that seized the attention of many onlookers.
Once again,
we inadvertently drove to Florence on the way back to Greve. We finally pulled into the driveway of the villa just
as the lights along the mountainside began to flicker on.
What a
tremendous day!!
The Whole Gang!!
Joyce, Mike, Kim, David, Elizabeth, Erik,
Kim, Joe, Amy, Tam, and Maritza.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Florence
Bpaistery
Santa Maria del Fiore Cathedral
Basilica San Croce
Ponte Vecchio Bridge
Ok! That’s it!
I’m done eating for the rest of the trip!! All of that hard-core summer dieting just
went out the window in four days.
Tensions were high at 8:57 am, as people were being shepherded into the vehicles. We had been in pretty close quarters for nearly a week and each other’s idiosyncrasies were beginning to wear thin on the veneer of patience. Nevertheless, we were finally rolling toward Florence. We had been there at least a half-dozen times by accident already. This time, we were heading there on purpose. We crossed over the mountain and merged with A1 at Figline/Valdarno and continued north. Despite having GPS assistance, the streets in Florence were nearly impossible to navigate.
We parked at the train station Stazione
Centrae Santa Maria Novello and rushed to the Hotel Savoy on the Piazza della Repubblica to meet our tour guide, Laura.
Florence. Its reputation as the Birthplace of the Renaissance is well deserved. Firenze, as it is pronounced my Italians, is so culturally important that the all of it was recently named as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The city is famous for its architecture, its arts, its wealth, its politics, its fashion … its beauty. The Medicis, Leonardo da Vinci, and Michelangelo all made significant and historic contributions here. It is, quite simply, one of the great cities of the world!!
Tensions were high at 8:57 am, as people were being shepherded into the vehicles. We had been in pretty close quarters for nearly a week and each other’s idiosyncrasies were beginning to wear thin on the veneer of patience. Nevertheless, we were finally rolling toward Florence. We had been there at least a half-dozen times by accident already. This time, we were heading there on purpose. We crossed over the mountain and merged with A1 at Figline/Valdarno and continued north. Despite having GPS assistance, the streets in Florence were nearly impossible to navigate.
We parked at the train station Stazione
Centrae Santa Maria Novello and rushed to the Hotel Savoy on the Piazza della Repubblica to meet our tour guide, Laura.Florence. Its reputation as the Birthplace of the Renaissance is well deserved. Firenze, as it is pronounced my Italians, is so culturally important that the all of it was recently named as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The city is famous for its architecture, its arts, its wealth, its politics, its fashion … its beauty. The Medicis, Leonardo da Vinci, and Michelangelo all made significant and historic contributions here. It is, quite simply, one of the great cities of the world!!
Florence looked quite different than when Tam and I had been there last, in 2006. The scaffolding that surrounded the Duomo had been removed, revealing the massive and ornate exterior marble finish. The gold Bapistery door panels that we saw being restored at the Accademia Galleria had been returned to the their original locations. Crowds were incredibly dense, literally tens of thousands of tourists milling around the doors, and virtually everywhere else. The masses of people moved in waves, like torrents, throughout the city. Professional beggars and pickpockets were running rampant and were a significant nuisance. Any experienced traveler could see that this would be a tough day.
We made our
way to the Santa Maria del Fiore Cathedral (The Duomo) and entered through the main
entrance. The rear of the basilica was
empty, with very little ornamentation at the transcript and altars. Larger in scale than the Siena Duomo, it
lacked the saturation of artistry of the smaller church. The impression given was less of spirit and
more of power.
After exiting the church, we wandered the streets of Florence, taking in the evolutionary architectural history of the city. Around one corner was Dante’s house and around another was Michelangelo’s house. We did stop at Volvi Gelateria, considered the ‘World’s Best’ gelato … at least it is the best outside of Siena.
We
eventually made it to Basilica Santa Croce, burial location of Michelangelo, Galileo, Machiavelli, and dozens of
others. Although it is one of my
favorite sites, we did not go inside due to huge lines. We returned to the Piazza della Signoria and
looked at a replica David statue (the real one was booked solid) before finishing our tour at the mid-point of the Ponte Vecchio bridge.
The Galleria degli Uffizi was closed for a
large convention and was not available for tours. All of the other museums were packed. With time running out, we dashed into the new
Hard Rock Café - Florence. We enjoyed some good ‘ol-fashioned American
food; nachos and blacked salmon sandwich, before picking up a T-shirt for Dan
and a couple of guitar pins for the collection.
Tam needed to pick up some last-minute gifts, so we visited the open markets across
the square, where she purchased purse for Michelle and a few silk scarves for
friends back home.
While I pulled out the map and was working on coordinates for our return to the car and the most efficient way to head home, Tam had spotted another statue of David ...
At 3:00 pm, we all met together and returned to the train station for our journey back to Greve. Following GPS directions, we became hopelessly lost in the narrow streets paralleling the Arno River. After an hour of driving in circles, we chucked the Garmin and followed the green Autostrada signs, eventually making it out of town. A minor crisis ensued when we exited the toll road at the Incisa interchange and could not find our toll ticket. After several minutes of desperate searching, we discovered that it had fallen from the visor and landed on Tam’s driver’s seat, where she had been sitting on it. We sheepishly made it the rest of the way home without further incident,
We all ate another gourmet meal at Greve’s finest family-run restaurant, Enoteca Gallo Nero. The place was spotlessly clean, service slightly slow, and food was world-class. Plenty of Bacchanalia for all!!
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Villa La Palagina
Feast at the Villa
Up before
the others, I sat out on the veranda and updated this journal.
A weather
front had moved through and it was overcast and cold. The wind was brisk, requiring me to bring in
the laundry that had been left hanging overnight to dry. The air was damp. Quite a departure from every other day that
we had experienced thus far.
The younger
couples left early on an all-day wine tour.
Tam
and I relaxed at the villa throughout the morning, but by noon, just as the
rain began to spit, we drove over the Sugame Pass to our neighbor’s house for
lunch.
Our neighbors (well, actually about
two miles away) lived at Villa Il Palagio. Their names were Sting and Trudie
Styler. Adjoining their private estate
is Villa La Palagina, a hotel and
restaurant enterprise that they own and operate together. Tam and I were going there for lunch.
Our neighbors (well, actually about
two miles away) lived at Villa Il Palagio. Their names were Sting and Trudie
Styler. Adjoining their private estate
is Villa La Palagina, a hotel and
restaurant enterprise that they own and operate together. Tam and I were going there for lunch. We entered the vintage, bright-yellow painted hotel through a large set of dark stained heavy wooden double doors, through the lobby, and into a stone courtyard with a huge panoramic view to the eastern mountains. The restaurant entrance was to the rear of the building and there were several wrought-iron tables sprinkled randomly, some covered by vine-covered trellises.
From the kitchen stepped a very attentive man who introduced himself as Fabio, Food and Beverage Manager of the villa. He directed us to an outside table, facing the view. For at least an hour, we were his only guests, so we got to know Fabio very well. Originally from Italy, he spent half a year at the Italy pavilion at the Walt Disney World Epcot theme park. There, he served as manager of food operations. He said that he hated Florida and thought the food there was terrible. He returned home in 1999 and helped launch the restaurant business for Sting.
Fabio shared a bottle of Chianti Classico Riserva Antico Borgo di Sugame (2007), produced next door to our villa. For our meal, Tam enjoyed a classic chopped salad and I had a croute of rocket shrimp. Chef de Cuisine, Fredrico Cardi, came out and picked herbs for our lunch from plants growing right beside out table. He smiled and nodded, but did not speak with us. For the next three hours, we passed the time as rain clouds washed over the mountains and dissipated to the north, dappling us in periodic sunshine. It was one of the most pleasant meals Tam and I have ever shared together.
Fabio shared a bottle of Chianti Classico Riserva Antico Borgo di Sugame (2007), produced next door to our villa. For our meal, Tam enjoyed a classic chopped salad and I had a croute of rocket shrimp. Chef de Cuisine, Fredrico Cardi, came out and picked herbs for our lunch from plants growing right beside out table. He smiled and nodded, but did not speak with us. For the next three hours, we passed the time as rain clouds washed over the mountains and dissipated to the north, dappling us in periodic sunshine. It was one of the most pleasant meals Tam and I have ever shared together.
Afterward, we wandered
around the estate taking pictures for a few minutes, before heading back over
the mountain and our own villa, where it was still raining.
At 6:30, a
chef arrived with a precooked meal of lasagna, fresh bread, and an unbelievable
tiramisu. The cool rain continuing to
fall outside provided the perfect setting for our feast inside. More food.
More wine. Several people had to
lie down, having gone into food comas.
Afterward, a
few of us sat down for an after-dinner talk about politics and the
economy. I took the bait and made
everyone miserable, and for that, I sincerely apologize.
Friday, September 28, 2012
La Dolce Vita in Tuscany
A Day at the Villa
Ben Franklin
once said that, “Guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days.” We had all been together for nearly a week
and we had finally reached that point.
The morning was cool, damp and foggy.
Low clouds crept through the valley below us.
Erik
suddenly alerted everyone that his credit card had been stolen and that someone
had been purchasing thousands of dollars in merchandise in Milan, using his
number. He and Mike spent most of the
morning contacting credit card companies back home trying to address the
matter.
Every few
hours or so, I would take a walk around the villa, looking down into the valley
for wildlife. I had spotted several
deer, some large wild rats, a few woodpeckers, and a feral cat … but I never
did see the elusive wild boar that Mike had seen several times that morning.
We all
wandered downtown for lunch, eating al fresco on Verrazano Square in Greve at Café Lepanto, where I ate tagliatelle
with wild boar … at least I got to see it on my plate! Tam enjoyed bruschetta and a salad. We subsequently meandered around the piazza and
found a cool Chianti Challenge bicycling shirt for Dan.
All
afternoon, the villa was quiet as everyone was doing a few last loads of
laundry, gathering and packing their things.
Each person was already thinking about their next destination. Ours would be Rome.
For a final
meal together, we picked up pizzas from Pizzeria La Cantina and brought them back to the house.
Tam and I jumped on the prosciutto pizza, ripping at it before David
could cut it. Someone ate way too many
pieces and I think I know who it was.
PART II: Roman Holiday
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Rome
The Lost Ipad
La Mantia
We both woke up at
5 am, still full from the gorging the night before. Ugh. I
looked down on the floor and noticed a two-inch long centipede. He was so big that he was covered in hair. I smashed him with my shoe as he scurried
across the bedroom floor.
By 7 am, Tam
and I finished loading the van for our departure to
Rome. Before leaving, I took one last
look at the gorgeous vista to the west of the Tuscan valley. We enjoyed our week with Mike, Joyce and
their family and appreciate very much the invitation to share their vacation
with them.
We drove for
three hours, from Greve to Rome via A1 and A35, to Fumicino Aeropuerto di Roma to drop the van off at the Hertz
lot. The check-in process was a mess,
people waving us in all directions. We
finally parked and started to unload.
Then we were told to pack up and move the car again. Then we unloaded again. We were told to return our GPS unit to a
booth on one side of the parking deck and turn our receipt at another desk,
located on the opposite side of the facility, a hundred yards away.
I showed the manager my Hertz Platinum card, and she told me to get in
line with everyone else, ten people deep, just to drop off the GPS rental
receipt. Employees were whipping cars
around as the crowd of customers bled out onto the entrance ramp. People were running around and everyone
seemed busy, but nothing was getting done.
After waiting half an hour, I finally handed the desk person our
receipt and that was it.
We caught a
cab to downtown Rome, driven by an Armenian man who could speak neither Italian
nor English. He did drive very fast,
getting us to the Marriott Grand Hotel Flora
in less than thirty minutes.
We checked
in and started to unpack in our fabulous room when we discovered that our iPad,
in all the rush, had been left in the front passenger floor of the van. We rushed downstairs to the concierge and
asked for help and she escorted us to the Hertz counter, located directly
behind the hotel. After explaining our
situation to the Hertz representative, he called out to the airport and they
looked in the car, still parked exactly where it was when we left it. But the iPad was gone. We sent an email to the Hertz Platinum site
and called the Hertz Platinum customer service representative, who told us that
they would let us know the status of the ‘lost’ item in five business
days. I spoke with the Hertz counter
manager again. He said that I should go
back to the airport if I felt it was that important. He told me that he would hold the car at the
location until I got there.
I jumped
into a taxi and rushed back out to the airport.
I hurriedly walked into the office and introduced myself to Roberta M.,
shift leader. I asked if the manager was
there, she said yes and pointed to a person standing six feet away. But she warned me that the manager was
‘off-duty’. I looked at the
manager ... she had been listening to our
conversation. She looked away and
continued joking and laughing with three other employees. I asked Roberta if the van was still there
and she said, “No.” Then she told me
that I should not have come back out to the airport. She finally admitted that the car was on
location and said sheepishly that “Maybe it might show up if she looked for
it.” I asked if I could go with her. She said no.
She did not permit me to look at the car to check for myself. She came back fifteen minutes later, shrugged
her shoulders and said, “Sorry, no luck.”
I asked again if I could see the car, and she was adamant. No. Then
she turned to the next customer in line.
The trip
back to the airport had been totally fruitless.
My iPad had obviously been lifted by a Hertz employee, inside the
private Hertz parking deck. After
returning to the hotel empty-handed, we spent the next two hours changing
passwords and security codes for all of our internet apps and programs, using
my iPhone.
I finally
took a few moments to relax in a soaking tub before putting on a
‘slightly-too-tight’ suit and taking my gorgeous wife to dinner to celebrate my
birthday. At 8:10 pm, Tam and I casually
strolled down Via Vittorio Veneto in the 90-degree night air. We passed the Rome Hard Rock Café, jammed with tourists, and entered the Hotel Majestic for our
highly-anticipated dinner at La Mantia,
the finest restaurant in the city.
Fillipo La Mantia was born in Palermo, Sicily and began his career as a photojournalist, taking news pictures in the city. When the local assistant police chief was shot and killed in mafia-related violence, authorities demanded his photographic negatives of the scene. He refused, was beaten, and spent several months in prison. Upon his release, he became a master chef, specializing in a proprietary form of modern Sicilian cooking that became his trademark. As a nationally famous and award-winning celebrity (dating actress Sharon Stone), he had recently opened restaurants in Rome, Milan, and Palermo.
Our waiter,
Andre, was far more welcoming. We
ordered a Sicilian wine, Tedeschi (2008)
and nibbled on some excellent breadsticks.
The room, like the weather outside was warm and humid. No air conditioning. With each sip of wine, the sweat on my
forehead became a full-body gusher. For
the next two hours, I would be uncomfortably drenched. In the meantime, we enjoyed wonderful
appetizers … quick-fried calamari in a green pea puree and grilled shrimp in
avocado salad. Our dinners were just as
fabulous. Pasta with grilled octopus and
spaghetti al dente with eggplant. The
highlight for Tam was her dessert, Cannoloni Siciliani.
For three hours, we watched Rome’s most well connected dine. The owner and master chef, himself, would come out and fraternize with key clientele, often helping them order from the menu. The whole thing was about as pretentious as it could get.
For three hours, we watched Rome’s most well connected dine. The owner and master chef, himself, would come out and fraternize with key clientele, often helping them order from the menu. The whole thing was about as pretentious as it could get.
As we walked
back to the hotel, we shared opinions that the restaurant, although very good,
seemed somewhat over-rated. We went to
bed, again on full stomachs, watching the distant sky flash with approaching
thunderstorms as we nodded off to sleep.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Spanish Steps
Trevi Fountain
Rome Police Department
McDonalds
Up and
moving a bit slowly after our late-night gorge, we began our walking trek of
the north side of Rome. At 9:30 am
sharp, we marched out of the Marriott and into Villa Borghese, trying to find
our way eventually to the Spanish Steps. First, we tried Viale de Galloppataro and
Viale del Muno Torto, but found dead ends after walking at least two
miles. Frustrated, we returned to our
starting point walked Viale S. Paolo del Brasile to Viale delle Magnolie then
Viale G. d’Annunzio to Viale Trinita del Monti … and suddenly, there we were,
at the top of the Spanish Steps! Hoorah!
Looking
down, I noticed the slight angle of the asymmetric staircase. Tam noticed the massive
Dior and Missoni stores at the foot of the stairs.
After taking the requisite pictures, we moved on to Trevi Fountain, located a few blocks to the south. Once again, Tam and I threw coins each into the fountain. Indeed, we had returned and were grateful for this … our third visit to Rome.
After taking the requisite pictures, we moved on to Trevi Fountain, located a few blocks to the south. Once again, Tam and I threw coins each into the fountain. Indeed, we had returned and were grateful for this … our third visit to Rome.
The Rome Hard Rock Café provided nachos for
lunch.
By late
afternoon, we finally got around to our iPad troubles. We talked with Apple Customer Service and they confirmed that police agencies
could use tracking information on all Apple products to locate them, and they
often recover lost or stolen units.
However, in order to do this, we needed to file a police report. So, we climbed back into a taxi and went to
the Central Rome Police Station on
Via Farini. We knocked on a bullet-proof
glass door and were buzzed-in. A massive
officer in uniform with Marine-style flat top haircut greeted us in stilted
English and directed us to a holding room while he had us fill out a police
report. Then he directed us to another
austere concrete-walled office where the senior officer awaited us. Sitting behind his desk, wearing designer
jeans and a starched red Polo golf shirt, the captain told us to sit down while
he retrieved our form. I tried to
explain how the iPad could be located, but he would have none of it. He signed and stamped the report on both
sides, in quadruplicate, then gave us a copy to hand to our insurers, and then
told us to leave. The whole process took
maybe ten minutes. It became clear to us
that we would never see our iPad again.
We walked
back to the hotel in a light rain, stopping at the Repubblica McDonalds for a quick dinner of McChicken and Nocciola
(Hazelnut) McFlurrries. Sooo good!
We ducked
under the awning of the Marriott just as it began to pour and we retired for
the night with the windows open, so we could hear the cool rain outside.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Campo de Fiori
Curia Pompeia
Monument Vittorio Emanuelle II
Having some
familiarity with Rome at this point, we could see the subtle changes that had taken place over the years. It was sadly evident that their economy was
slipping. Cleanliness had demonstrably
declined. Roads, sidewalks, and other infrastructure
were showing significant signs of deterioration. It would seem that surrounding the ancient
ruins of Rome … were the modern ruins of Rome.
At the Spanish Steps, I walked past a man busy polishing a gold-plated hotel sign
to perfection … every inch to a mirror-like shine. Yet he was oblivious to the pile of dog
excrement on the sidewalk right in front of the door. Later, I saw a maitre’d perfectly
straightening a table cloth at a sidewalk café while ignoring a two-foot wide
hole in the concrete lurking behind a table chair. It seemed that Italy, and Rome in particular,
were really suffering. Still, most
Italians remained very proud, and were doing what they could.
It was
Monday. Most of Rome was closed. So we decided to walk through the local
neighborhood. We eventually made our way
to Rome’s local market, Campo de Fiori,
where we shopped and sat in the shade at Baccanate Campo de Fiori Roma.
During our walkabout, we caught a glimpse of the Italian First lady eating brunch at Caffe Roscioli. We also stumbled upon Area Sacra di Largo Argentina, where dictator Benito Mussolini evicted hundreds of Romans in the 1930s to perform a major excavation on the site. Indeed, it was a significant find, because it was the location of Curia Pompeia, the ancient Roman Senate House where Julius Caesar was assassinated in March of 44 BC. The small, open-air site was amazing, albeit infested with cats.
During our walkabout, we caught a glimpse of the Italian First lady eating brunch at Caffe Roscioli. We also stumbled upon Area Sacra di Largo Argentina, where dictator Benito Mussolini evicted hundreds of Romans in the 1930s to perform a major excavation on the site. Indeed, it was a significant find, because it was the location of Curia Pompeia, the ancient Roman Senate House where Julius Caesar was assassinated in March of 44 BC. The small, open-air site was amazing, albeit infested with cats.
We continued east, walking past the highly guarded Syrian Embassy to Capitoline Hill, the citadel and nerve center of ancient Rome. In the center of the plaza was a huge sculpture of Marcus Aurelius, surrounded by buildings designed by Michelangelo.
Visually inescapable and near the hill is the Monument Vittorio Emanuelle II, also known as Altare della Patria. Built in the 1900s of bleached-white marble, the massive monument is reviled by local Romans as a tasteless and over-the-top neoclassical ‘typewriter’. Visitors, nonetheless, are struck by the scale and presentation of the building, particularly the honor guard protecting the tomb of the unknown Italian soldier.
To the rear of the Vittoriano is a glass elevator to the roof that offers the most spectacular view of the city. From that vista, we had a clear view of all of ancient Rome … the Forum, the Palantine, and the Colosseum. My camera was smoking! It was well worth the fourteen euros we spent for the privilege.
After walking approximately eight miles, we finally kicked up our feet at the hotel and watched the movies Hope Floats and Dan In Real Life, with Arabic captioning, on Dubai TV in our room.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Forum Romanun
Circus Maximus
Colosseum
Looking out
over the cityscape of Rome on this gorgeous early morning, from our sixth-floor
suite (Room 614), I could see directly into the fifth and sixth floor
apartments of the Uruguayan Embassy. Every window was wide open, and it was easy to
see people milling about and pushing papers on their desks. This was a far cry from the blacked-out
bulletproof windows of the U.S. Embassy,
just up the street ... completely surrounded by military police and Italian
SWAT teams.
Tam and I
stepped out of our taxi and back two millennia in time as we entered the Forum Romanum. The initial impression given when walking among the fractured
stone fragments ranged from being on an old movie set to being in an architectural
junkyard. Huge slabs of stone, some
still etched in immaculate detail, were mixed in with completely-worn ‘blobs’
of marble.
For me, the most meaningful section was Foro di Caesare, the grounds where the great Julius Caesar lived and governed. The most striking spot was the Central Square, in which was located the remains of his cremation altar, where his funeral pyre burned for seven days. The ground was still dark and charred.
For me, the most meaningful section was Foro di Caesare, the grounds where the great Julius Caesar lived and governed. The most striking spot was the Central Square, in which was located the remains of his cremation altar, where his funeral pyre burned for seven days. The ground was still dark and charred.
The rest of
the Forum was an array of temples and meeting houses built by more contemporary Romans,
much of which was overgrown by weeds.
Turning up
the hill at the Arch of Titus, we
followed the path to the apex of the Palantine and the House of Nero and Augustus.
These newer buildings were full of fragments of the original walls and a
plethora of antiquities and pristine marbleworks. The upper part of the Palantine was divided
into two distinct areas: Domus Flavia,
where official state business was conducted and Domus Augustus, the emperor’s private quarters. Part of the private section included an
entire stadium to be used by Augustus at his pleasure, including a large horse
track.
Further
behind, was a complex labyrinth of baths known as the Severin Buildings (also known as the Septizodium, built by Septimus Severus). The buildings also provided the emperor with
private access to the viewing platform overlooking Circus Maximus, the legendary locale of chariot races, accurately
reproduced in the movie Ben Hur. The long, elliptical stadium had a capacity
of nearly 300,000 people, making it one of the largest sporting venues ever
created.
The scale of
construction in ancient Rome, and the Palantine in particular, was
striking. Often, the solid brick walls
were ten feet thick and seven or eight stories high. Even with all the decorative marble stripped
away, the complex of structures provided amazing insight into the highly
developed skills in design and engineering the empire possessed back then.
Walking
toward the Colosseum, we noticed that the famous Laura Olin Wall, was closed and under complete reconstruction by
UNESCO. The Colosseum was a zoo, as
expected, and since we had been inside during previous trips, we opted to walk
around it, take a few pictures, and get out of there.
... and what a difference six years makes ...
... and what a difference six years makes ...
2006 versus 2012
After lunch
near the hotel, Tam and I walked through Burghese Gardens to the Museum of Modern Art. This old classic structure housed some
amazing works by Van Gogh, Monet, Degas, Pollack, and Warhol. Known in Italian as the Galleria Nazionale d’arte Moderna, it was established in 1883 and
featured artwork from the last two hundred years.
We returned
to the Marriott by walking the length of Burghese Park again. At the hotel, we spent the next three hours
trying to cancel the ATT&T cellular service on our long-gone iPad. It took four phone calls and an extended
on-line chat to get it done, but Tam accomplished the task.
To celebrate
one final evening in Rome, we strolled down to one of the great landmarks from
our previous family trip in 2006 … Pepperone. This little gem was located across the street
from the Hard Rock Café on Via
Vittorio Veneto and had a glassed-in sidewalk café. We enjoyed it so much in 2006 that we ate
there twice. It didn’t disappoint this
time either. It was the perfect spot for
a late-night meal.
Back in the
room, we watched Dan In Real Life
again while folding and packing things for the final leg of our trip … a
Mediterranean cruise!!
Part III: Pirates of the Mediterranean
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Port of Civitavecchia
Norwegian Epic
When room
service arrived at 9:45 am, we were already dressed and packed in anticipation
of our transfer to the Port of Civitavecchia and our appointment with the Norwegian Epic.
Our driver,
Pietro Giordani, of Palazzi Services,
spent a wonderful hour escorting us out of Rome and to our destination. He shared his thoughts about food, wine,
family, and life in Italy. He was such a
pleasant man that we decided to give him our last bottle of Villa La Palagina Chianti. His eyes lit up when Tam handed it to him. Besides, we had drunk about fifty gallons of
Chianti in the past week; so one less bottle wouldn’t hurt us at all.
The check-in
process for the Epic was fairly quick and easy.
Crowds seemed smaller than usual too, so that helped. By 1:00 pm, we were on board the flagship of
the Norwegian line. The Norwegian Epic
was huge. Built in 2010, it weighed
155,873 metric tons. Its overall length
was 1,081 feet and bee was 133 feet. The
crew of 1,708 can accommodate 4,100 guests.
There were twenty restaurants and twenty bars aboard the ship. The first person we met, Clarense, from the
Bahamas, introduced himself as ‘the chocolate cowboy’ and offered to sell me an
unlimited soda beverage membership for $54.
I asked him if them included unlimited Mountain Dew and he said yes.
I immediately reached for my wallet.
We wandered
through several casinos before eventually finding our cabin (#9293) at the aft
of the ship. Our quiet and unobstructed
veranda view was perfect. I can thank Tam
for her excellent work.
Norwegian had recently introduced a “Freestyle” eating program that actually meant - All you can eat, anywhere on board, free of charge. Limitless Mountain Dew and endless food; the diet that was dormant in Italy for the past two weeks was now officially dead.
After the
requisite passenger safety briefing, Tam and I bellied-up to Teppanyaki Japanese Steakhouse on Deck 7, for a
stir-fry gorge-fest. The chef put on one
of the best performances we have ever seen in a Benihana-style restaurant. Afterward, we staggered to our stateroom and
settled-in for the night.
Both of us woke in the middle of the night. At 3 am, I pulled the curtain open and noted that we were passing by the Piombino Peninsula, thus transitioning between the Tyrrhenian Sea and the Mediterranean Sea.
Both of us woke in the middle of the night. At 3 am, I pulled the curtain open and noted that we were passing by the Piombino Peninsula, thus transitioning between the Tyrrhenian Sea and the Mediterranean Sea.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
On board the Epic
One
disadvantage of having an aft-located cabin is that when they throw the
propellers into reverse, you know it. At
6:34 am, this occurred as The Epic arrived at Livorno Harbor. For the next ten minutes, we enjoyed heavy
vibrations, as the ship turned around and docked.
We decided
not to disembark at Livorno, since we had already spent an extensive amount of
time in Tuscany and Florence. All day
long, we basically had the ship to ourselves … at the Internet Café (sending
Gloria birthday wishes) … sunning on deck … and reading about our next ports of
call.
Try to
imagine a Cirque de Soleil show in
your own living room. The Spiegel Tent is a circular dining room
aboard the Epic, with an open area in the center, where they put on the Cirque Dreams & Dinner acrobatic and
comedy show, an amazing ninety-minute performance taking place inches over
heads … all while we were eating dinner.
We were so close that we could sense the immense physical effort of the
acrobats. Midway through the show, I was
asked to take part in a skit where I played the role of a jealous sailor. Dumb, but fun.
Back in our cabin, we watched the lights of Livorno disappear into the darkness as we headed due west to our next destination, Cannes and Monte Carlo.
Friday, October 5, 2012
French Riviera
Nice, Cannes, St. Jean Cap-Ferrat
Monaco, Monte Carlo
Fifty years
ago on this date, James Bond first stepped across the screen and fired the shot
at moviegoers that would be celebrated for generations. There would be no better place to celebrate Global James Bond Day than in Monte
Carlo.
At 6:45 am,
the Epic circled the Pointe de la
Croisette and turned right into the port of Cannes, France. To our starboard side was a gorgeous sunrise
over Nice and Monaco beyond. To our port
side, were the mountains of St. Tropez, fading into the fog and retreating
darkness. The captain dropped anchor at
7:25 am and announced our arrival in the French
Riviera. He also informed us that we
would be using tenders to take us into shore.
He finally suggested an umbrella.
At 9:00 am, we departed the ship for our grand adventure. Within minutes, we were on Bus #15, driving through Cannes. The port city is primarily known for its annual film festival, held every May. In an interesting side note, the first of the festivals took place in 1939, just as the Nazi army was invading Europe. It was not held again until 1951.
At 9:00 am, we departed the ship for our grand adventure. Within minutes, we were on Bus #15, driving through Cannes. The port city is primarily known for its annual film festival, held every May. In an interesting side note, the first of the festivals took place in 1939, just as the Nazi army was invading Europe. It was not held again until 1951.
We drove by
the grand hotels, including the Hotel
Majestic and the Grand Hyatt Cannes
Hotel Martinez, directly across from the Palais des Festivals et des Congrès, also known by locals
as “The Bunker”. Built in 1982, the
modern structure seemed to fit that description. We stopped and admired the famed 24 steps that
celebrities must climb to enter the building during the Cannes Film Festival.
Several significant museums dedicated to great artists were pointed out
as we drove by … Picasso, Chagall, Renoir, Matisse … I wish we would have had
time to visit them.
Meandering
up the coast a few miles northeast, we entered the city of Nice. We followed a long boulevard paralleling the
beach. Rows of elite hotels and
expensive apartments. We stopped and
spent time in Nice. It was nice. Nice was founded by the Greeks, with the name
‘Nice’ being a truncated form of the word Niki,
meaning victory. The airport in Nice is
located on a spit of land jutting into the Mediterranean and it is the second
busiest airport in France, next to Charles
DeGaulle International Airport in Paris.
Nice seemed similar to Venice Beach, California in several ways. Laid back, a bit dirty, with a wide boulevard
adjacent and paralleling the beach.
Mediterranean beaches are not sand, for the most part, they are
comprised of large round pebble-stones.
There were a few bathers at the beach and in the water, but they were
almost entirely older Europeans taking their daily constitutional exercise.
As we turned
up the hillside and crossed the ridge to the east, our guide pointed out the Mont
Boron estate of Elton John, overlooking both Nice and St. Jean Cap-Ferrat. One of the things that sets the French
Riveria (Cote d’ Azeur) apart from many other beaches is that the villages are
literally trapped along the coastline between the sea and the French Alps that
loom powerfully landward and often drop precipitously into the sea. Over time, the villages sprawled up the sides
of the mountains, creating the unusual and magnificent, almost
amphitheater-like setting to each city along the coast.
Tucked into
a small cove between Nice and Monaco is a gorgeous little corner of the world known
as St. Jean Cap-Ferrat. Not nearly as densely-populated as either of
the two other cities, the homes were strategically-placed over the rugged and
massive granite hillsides all cradling an intimate inlet, with barely enough
room for one cruise ship. Cap-Ferrat has for many years been home to many of the rich and famous who choose to live out of the spotlight of
Monaco. David Niven, Charlie Chaplain,
Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton all lived in the mountainside estates …
Bono, Tina Turner, Eric Clapton, and Microsoft’s Paul Allen live there now.
Climbing
back out of Cap-Ferrat and over the next ridge, we entered onto a small
rotary. In the center of the rotary was
a small boulder, a marker, which has historically divided the principality of
Monaco from France. On that stone were
the simple and understated words … “Principaute de Monaco”.Monaco is a sovereign city-state, ruled by the royal Grimaldi family since 1297. It is the second smallest (next to Vatican City) and the most densely populated country in the world. Monaco joined the United Nations as an independent nation in 1993. The official language is French, but Italian and English are also widely spoken and understood. It is among the richest cities of the world, with more than one third of its residents being millionaires.
Our bus was one in a long chain of busses all being diverted to a huge multi-level underground bus parking lot, located directly beneath the royal residences. After taking two escalators and an elevator, we finally emerged above ground near the huge classically-styled Oceanographic Museum, built by Prince Albert I. However, more people were paying attention to an innocuously small residence across the street that was in the midst of being painted pink. This relatively modest villa was the house of Princess Caroline. Parked outside was her glamorous petite green Fiat. A single solitary security officer casually stood guard in a telephone booth tucked into the bushes next to the house.
We proceeded
up the Avenue de la Port Neuve and eventually found ourselves facing the Saint Nicolas Cathedral, another
somewhat modest structure built less than a hundred years ago. It was a strange sensation, walking into a
virtually new church that was designed to look old. It felt very ‘Walt Disney’ … slightly
artificial, if one can say that. At the
back of the church, behind the altar, were the burial plots of centuries of
Grimaldis. Most visitors walked right
past them, stopping to pay respects to the only non-Grimaldi of the bunch …
wife of Prince Rainier III and movie legend, Grace Kelly. Her marker was engraved simply Gracia Patricia but could easily be
identified by the masses of flowers surrounding it. It was while filming Alfred Hitchcock’s
brilliant To Catch A Thief that she
first came here ... and found her prince.
A few yards
away, through a narrow street, we entered Place de Palais, a large plaza where the royal residence is positioned to
overlook the principality both to the east and west. At first glance, the palace looked a nice
resort hotel as opposed to its more massive peers, such as Buckingham Palace. It projected elegance, not power. This was not your usual royal residence, with huge
gates and massive security. The windows
were open and the drapes were waving in the breeze. The front door was wide-open and single guard
stood in front of the main entrance.
We made the
intelligent decision to forego the changing of the guard and grabbed an elegant
lunch at Ristorante Castleroc, where we tasted thinly sliced salmon and
mixed fresh grilled seafood.
Afterward,
we ambled along the perimeter of Le Rocher, the Rock of Monaco, taking tons of pictures in all directions. Monaco is one of the most photogenic places I
have ever traveled … the French and Italian Alps converging into the city, the
fantastic priceless real estate climbing up the mountainsides, the billions of
dollars worth of yachts in the harbor.
The majestic excess of it all!!
Our tour
proceeded into Monte Carlo, where we traced the world-famous Formula 1 racing
circuit in our tour bus, crossing the start/finish line at Boulevard Albert
I. Once dropped off, Tam and I walked up
the legendary Fairmont Hairpin Curve
and to the Grand Casino of Monte Carlo.
We approached the ostentatious entrance, weaving between the Bugatti Veyrons and Ferrari Italias parked in front. Once inside, the casino seemed outdated and small, nothing like the faux-opulence of Vegas. We stood at the exact Baccarat table where two James Bond movies were filmed, Never Say Never Again and Goldeneye.
Somewhat unimpressed, the two of us walked past the ridiculous watch and jewelry stores and back down to the famous Formula 1 tunnel underneath the Fairmont Monte Carlo Hotel and visited several racing gift shops. As we walked through the tunnel, there was a seemingly endless parade of Ferraris and Aston Martins passing us, on their way to Port Hercules Marina.
Officially
named Monte Carlo Casino, it was the
idea of the Royal family of Monaco (Princess Caroline to be exact), back in
1848. It saved the House of Grimaldi from bankruptcy and subsidized them until the
late 1990s. Today, private investors
independently operate the casino.
Somewhat unimpressed, the two of us walked past the ridiculous watch and jewelry stores and back down to the famous Formula 1 tunnel underneath the Fairmont Monte Carlo Hotel and visited several racing gift shops. As we walked through the tunnel, there was a seemingly endless parade of Ferraris and Aston Martins passing us, on their way to Port Hercules Marina.
So, what does it cost to live in Monaco, along with Roger Moore, Shirley Bassey, Lewis Hamilton, and Ringo Starr? The price of prime real estate is three thousand euros per square foot in some areas. However, other properties are less valuable. In fact, some experts claim that it is no more expensive than anywhere else in Europe. I have trouble believing it.
The return
to the ship took twice as long as the trip out as we were caught in rush-hour
traffic. The tiny village of Cannes was
never built to accommodate the army of returning busses that were converging on
the harbor from all directions.
Once
onboard, Tam and I ate, yet again, as the sun set on the top-deck dim sum and
sushi bar, Spicy H2O. Then we attended The Beatles - A Celebration in the Epic Theater. The show, like
many we had seen before, was a replication of the original fab four. Still, they were pretty good and by the end,
everyone was up and dancing in the aisles to Twist and Shout and All My
Loving.
While
returning to our cabin, we ran into the faux-Barry White in the lobby and the
faux-Rod Stewart in the casino. Tam even
thought she spotted the faux-Kiss band in the staircase. It would be a big week of entertainment on
board the Epic.
Opening our
cabin door, we were once again, treated to a spectacular sunset view of the
French Riviera. Our aft-facing room
enabled us to slowly watch the lights fade away as the Epic sailed south and
toward our next port of call - Marseilles.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Marseilles
The rumble
of reversing propellers woke us at 6:00 am, as we were turning around to dock at
Marseilles. Pulling the curtain open at
8:30 am, to take in our first full view of the city, we saw nothing but mud,
rocks, shipping containers, and warehousing facilities. The central harbor at Marseilles was too small
for cruise ships, so we parked in the shipping harbor (the largest in
France) ten miles away.
Anthony
Bourdain recently commented that Marseilles is the most under-rated city in the
world. It certainly has a unique reputation, cloaked in darkness and mystery. Great suspense movies, such
as The Bourne Identity, The Transporter, and The French Connection were all filmed
here. Singer Jimmy Buffett has often
written about Marseilles in his music.
So it was with a heightened level of inquisitiveness that we disembarked to investigate for ourselves.
Let’s start at
the beginning. As early as 600 BC, the
ancient Greeks and Phoenicians traded here, establishing it as France’s first
real city. The term ‘Marseilles’ is
actually a French translation of the word Massalia
from Greek mythology.
As we
debarked, we could spot the Frioul Islands, with impressive stone fortresses built on them. Constructed in the early 1500s for King
Francois I, the structures were primarily defensive in nature but were
converted to prisons soon thereafter. It
was here that wealthy protestant Jose Custodio Faria was imprisoned, and later
immortalized by writer Alexander Dumas as the Count of Monte-Cristo.
The taxi ride lasted twenty minutes as we transferred from the north-side industrial port to the tourist hub of the city, named Old Port (or Vieux Port). We saved at least a half hour avoiding the long line for the Norwegian shuttle bus and taking a cab. The driver could not speak a lick of English and Tam’s French was so poor that it was intelligible. I spoke to him in Spanish and he understood enough to get us where we were going. He dumped us at the first place downtown that he could find and sped off. Without a return shuttle to count on, we agreed that we should return to the ship some time around two pm.
The taxi ride lasted twenty minutes as we transferred from the north-side industrial port to the tourist hub of the city, named Old Port (or Vieux Port). We saved at least a half hour avoiding the long line for the Norwegian shuttle bus and taking a cab. The driver could not speak a lick of English and Tam’s French was so poor that it was intelligible. I spoke to him in Spanish and he understood enough to get us where we were going. He dumped us at the first place downtown that he could find and sped off. Without a return shuttle to count on, we agreed that we should return to the ship some time around two pm.
Standing in
front of the Renaissance Hotel at Vieux Port, we quickly realized that we
were on the wrong side of the port and began a lengthy jaunt around the
circumference of it. We ducked into some
pretty cool old scuba dive and nautical shops along the way.
The entire town had a bewitching feel to it, as if the ghosts of its
pirates, rum-runners, and more recent drug dealers were still haunting the
place. Old forts and chateaus were
sprinkled throughout the hillside surrounding the cobblestone city. However, around almost every corner were new
construction projects in progress. Two
ultra-modern commercial complexes on the cutting-edge of architectural design
were being completed literally feet away from where work was being done to
renovate the multi-century-years-old Fort
St. Jean. In addition, new
cobblestone streets were being installed around Vieux Port. The city was definitely on the move.
Tam and I
eventually made it to the top of the hill at Rue St. Laurent and took in the
spectacular panorama of Marseilles.
Wherever we went, we sensed both the historic and hardscrabble nature of the place. It is real. It is callused and weathered. It is a ‘sailor’s port'. It is most definitely a place for travelers, rather than for tourists.
Wherever we went, we sensed both the historic and hardscrabble nature of the place. It is real. It is callused and weathered. It is a ‘sailor’s port'. It is most definitely a place for travelers, rather than for tourists.
Speaking of
tourists, we decided precisely at noon that it was time for lunch, and consulting
our Frommer’s Tour Guide of Provence,
picked a street café on the Vieux Port right where we were standing, Le Miramar.
Little did
we know that we were walking into the finest restaurant in Marseilles. It only took a few moments to realize that my
Guy Harvey T-shirt and blue jeans
were perhaps just a bit understated for the establishment. The menus, written entirely in French and
handed to us by waiters in white jackets, who only spoke French, heightened the
level of intimidation to DEFCON 4. Then
next to us sat, sharing Tam’s bench seat, an older local businessman wearing an
Armani grey glen plaid suit with pink window-pane pattern, designer glasses and
a gold watch that Tam estimated cost $100,000+.
A few minutes later, a lady joined him, bringing a Schnauzer under her
arm and placing the dog on the seat between them. DEFCON 3.
Then the maitre’d brought out a special treat for the dog and placed a
plate of appetizers in front of them.
DEFCON 2. Finally, the owner and
chef, himself, the legendary Christian Buffa, founding member of the French Bouillabase Society, came out and
greeted them ... all while ignoring us, two feet away. DEFCON 1.
I looked
across at the café an arm's length to my right, full of people wearing T-shirts and
jeans and laughing and having a great time, and wished I were there. Instead, I was afraid to spill anything on
the tablecloth or make any gestures that might draw attention to us.
After what
seemed an eternity of slow service (but admittedly an outstanding meal) we
asked for the check and got the heck out of there. It was a two and half hour lunch. This meant that it was well after two o’clock
and we immediately started to look for available taxis.
We walked back around Vieux Port to the Radisson, trying to flag one
down. No luck.
Just as we
arrived at the hotel, a Mercedes taxi screamed up to drop off customers. It was the same guy who picked us up at the
ship earlier in the day! Talk about a
miracle! He drove us back to the Epic in
good order. However, we learned he was a bit of a pirate when we paid fifty euros for a fourteen-euro fare, and
got only ten euros back. We had been pillaged, but Tam and I
decided that it was well worth it, because the ship blasted its departure horn
just as we were exiting the cab.
A rare
afternoon departure gave us the chance to sit on our veranda and watch
Marseilles and the Frioul Islands disappear into the horizon. It was a wonderful opportunity to relax and
get ready for another big day.
We were both
looking forward, with great anticipation, to Barcelona, Spain.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Barcelona
Montjuic Olympic Village
Barri Gothic
La Pedrera
Basilica de La Sagrada Familia
¡Hola
Barcelona! The Epic finally shut off the
engines at 4:33 am, arriving at its final position in Barcelona Harbor. I pulled our cabin curtains open and peeked
out on the new world out there. The
first thing I saw in the pre-dawn darkness was an illuminated modern bridge
right behind our ship and an ultra-modern, all glass W hotel in the shape of a sail.
These were sure signs that we had arrived someplace special.
Barcelona,Spain is the capital of Catalonia. It is
the second-largest city in Spain, next to Madrid, with a population approaching
four million people.
Almost four
thousand years ago, the Layetans settled at this location and soon were trading
with the Greeks, Phoenicians, and Romans.
The Romans occupied Barcelona around 15 BC, building roads and
protective encircling walls around the city.
Some of those walls still remain.
In later years, the Visigoths, the Moors, the Franks, and the Catalan
kings each conquered and influenced the development of the city.
Four major recent
events helped shape the Barcelona that exits today; the Universal Exhibitions
of 1888 and 1929, the Spanish Civil War of the 1930s, and the Summer Olympics of
1992.
Within the
past century, Barcelona has been particularly noted for its modernist
architecture. This is perhaps no
surprise since the city has had a long tradition of embracing adventurous art
and eccentric artists. Picasso launched
his career here. Joan Miro and Salvador
Dali were also local Catalonians who stretched the boundaries of art and
design.
We began our
tour of Barcelona by boarding a bus at 7:45 am.
We had not left the parking lot when we were caught in a massive traffic
jam of vehicles pulling into port.
Literally, hundreds of small trucks and vans with items piled six or
seven feet high on their roofs … furniture, bicycles, washing machines,
television sets, and virtually everything else imaginable. Our tour guide, Maria, explained that these
were Africans who had come to Barcelona to purchase large items, strap them to
the tops of their cars, and then return by ferry (a seventeen hour trip) back
to north Africa.
Eventually, we made it out of the port and around the rotary dedicated to Christopher Columbus. A tall monument celebrates his famous voyage to the new world. It is a powerful statue of him, standing on a pillar and pointing forcefully … in the wrong direction.
Our bus
climbed Montjuic, named after ancient
Jewish burial grounds found on the summit.
Along this climb, we stopped at numerous 1992 Olympic sites, including
the stadium, the skyway transit system, and the incredible outdoor platform
diving venue. Located high on the cliff,
the Piscina Municipal de Montjuic platform
diving facility faces the city and creates the illusion that divers were almost
jumping off the side of the mountain.
Driving into the La Franca district, we realized that there was fantastic architecture around virtually every corner … the MACBA Museum designed by Richard Meijer … the Miro Foundation Museum designed by Josep Lluis Sert … the CaixaForum designed by Arata Isozaki … and the minimalist 1929 Exhibition Germany Pavilion designed by Mies Van der Rohe. We had hit the architectural mother lode.
The next two hours were spent in the Barri Gothic (Gothic Quarter). Our first stop was the Cathedral of the Holy Cross and Saint Eulalia, originally built in the 1300s, and was the location where Christopher Columbus, upon returning from the new world, brought six Indians to the church for baptism in 1493. Behind the cathedral was the royal residence of King Ferdinand and Isabella. The entrance was unadorned and austere, with only a small sign beside the door … Placa del Rei (Plaza of the king). On the steps to the royal entrance, Christopher Columbus was received by Los Reyes Catholicos (Catholic Monarchs) upon his return from his voyage.
Across the Place Nova from the cathedral was the Barcelona College of Arts. This school was once managed by Pablo Picasso’s
father. Pablo created a large mural in
tribute to his father that is permanently displayed on the school’s exterior.
The final
portion of our tour was, by far, the most anticipated. Antoni Gaudi i Cornet is considered to be the
ultimate and most original proponent of Catalan modernism. He developed a completely new and radical
style of architecture based on geometric understanding of nature; free-flowing,
yet structurally sound, featuring double curves, hyperboloids, and
helicoids. He saw that nature had no
such thing as discontinuity and moved smoothly from one surface to
another. He often incorporated the human
skeleton into his works, in hopes of creating a living architecture.
Our first
evidence of this was actually a small apartment fascia that Gaudi renovated,
belonging to textile industrialist Josep Batillo. Even in this early work, the curvature and
playfulness of Gaudi was very evident.
The building was declared a Historical-Artistic
Monument of National Interest in 1969.
Gaudi then took his concept to the next level in 1905, when he began
construction on the Mila House (better known as La Pedrera). With this
massive seven-story work, Gaudi threw out all architectural convention. Completely organic, with not a single
straight line, the structure is a seminal example of his work, and in 1984 was
selected by UNESCO as being significant to the world. But none of his work would hold a candle to
what we would see next.
Turning a corner at the intersection of Mallorca and Sicilia streets, the gigantic Basilica de La Sagrada Familia suddenly came into view. It literally took our breath away. There is really nothing on earth quite like it! The incredibly massive size, the intricate details, and bizarre forms were virtually indescribable.
In 1883,
Gaudi began to work on the cathedral under the guidance of another
architect. He soon took full control of
the project because he passionately believed that Barcelona needed a grand
modern church. In his envisioned plans,
he conceived of eighteen large parabolic towers symbolizing the twelve
apostles, the four evangelists, the Virgin Mary, and Jesus Christ (whose tower
was to eclipse all others at 170 meters high).
He worked almost non-stop on the cathedral for forty years, until he was
tragically run over by a street tram in 1926.
Despite this, building continued … and continues … based on Gaudi’s
detailed plans. During our visit, huge
construction cranes were still at work, with hopes that it will be completed by
2026, the centenary of Gaudi’s death.
On November
7, 2010, Pope Benedict XVI consecrated and proclaimed it a basilica, the first
time in history an unfinished work was so honored.
Tam and I
walked around the entire basilica, each side representing a unique religious
theme. As a monolithic work, it is
impressive, but it is even more so when looking at particular details,
especially the human figures represented on the Front of the Passion (sculpted by Josep Maria Subirachs). They were highly artistic, full of emotion
and very representative of Spanish-style art.
It was Sunday, and the line for entry wrapped for several blocks through the neighborhood. For the sake of expediency, we both agreed to come back to this site in the future and decided to move on. We caught a taxi to La Rambla, the main boulevard of Barcelona. It serves as the artery of life for the city, and on this gorgeous Sunday afternoon, was throbbing with activity. What a delightful and invigorating experience, blending in with tens of thousands of fellow Barcelonans, walking between food markets, art vendors, and street cafes. We stopped at Amaya on the boulevard and shared a freshly-made paella, with Spanish wine, of course, before shopping for our daughters in the small calles of Barri Gothic. Tam found two great antique woven scarves.
Eventually,
we returned to our rendezvous point at the Columbus marker and jumped the T3-Creuer bus to the port. Barcelona is a major homeport for
Norwegian Cruises Lines. There were many new passengers
boarding an overlapping cruise, and the ship was nearing full capacity. As the crew released the spring lines, we
stood on the top deck and admired Barcelona at dusk. Slowly, the Epic slipped away from the
harbor, turning due south and eventually east, on our return to Italy.
¡Lo que un dia increÃble!
Monday, October 8, 2012
Mediterranean Sea
Passing between Corsica and Sardinia
A day at sea. Nothing better than hanging around the cabin ...
Somewhere in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea, the Norwegian Epic was plowing full steam ahead. We could feel the occasional ‘ship-roll’ approximately every twelve seconds or so. Still, it was a beautiful day for sailing. Tam noted that the sea looked ‘bluer’ than usual, perhaps trying to articulate how wonderful, and grateful, we were to be doing this. While I continued working on this journal, Tam finished one book and began another. We also sorted laundry and responded to emails. At one point, Tam saw land … Mallorca … very dimly visible to the north.
Somewhere in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea, the Norwegian Epic was plowing full steam ahead. We could feel the occasional ‘ship-roll’ approximately every twelve seconds or so. Still, it was a beautiful day for sailing. Tam noted that the sea looked ‘bluer’ than usual, perhaps trying to articulate how wonderful, and grateful, we were to be doing this. While I continued working on this journal, Tam finished one book and began another. We also sorted laundry and responded to emails. At one point, Tam saw land … Mallorca … very dimly visible to the north.
At just
after 2:00 pm, the Epic entered the Strait of Bonifacio and slipped into the
Tyrrhenian Sea between Corsica and Sardinia.
Isola Razzoli and Isola Budelli passed by our immediate starboard size,
as did a dolphin and several small sailboats.
While up on
the top ‘adults only’ deck to observe the passage through the islands, I saw my
first European-style topless sunbather.
I wish I hadn’t. She looked more
like a Lithuanian power-lifter than Brigitte Bardot.
Out of sheer boredom, Tam and I paid to endure the Norwegian Epic Svedka Ice Bar, kept at a constant seventeen degrees. No need for drinks 'on the rocks' ...
Out of sheer boredom, Tam and I paid to endure the Norwegian Epic Svedka Ice Bar, kept at a constant seventeen degrees. No need for drinks 'on the rocks' ...
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Naples
Sorrento
Amalfi Coast
Positano
Pompeii
At 4:35 am,
we streamed past Ischia Island and at 6:30, we were slowing as we approached
Naples harbor. The dim light of early
sunrise enabled me to clearly see the silhouette of a nearby mountain … the
infamous Mount Vesuvius.
The city of
Naples gradually materialized in the morning light.
From our perspective, the city appeared more commercial than most. As we boarded a van and began our journey, we
also noted that the people appeared ‘harder’ than we had seen in northern
Italy. In fact, as we pulled out of the
port gates, there were twenty or thirty men milling about in the street all
looking like cast members from Goodfellas.
The
metropolitan area of Naples is the third largest in Italy, behind Rome and
Milan. It is industrial, seemingly in
disrepair, with few architectural or other visual landmarks. Certainly, it is the least attractive of the
ports we visited.
Before long,
we were skirting the foothills of Vesuvius on A3 and then south onto the Monti
Lattari peninsula toward Sorrento. As we
approached the city, we began to climb a series of increasingly narrow and
winding roads. Our tour guide, Giulia,
pointed out literally dozens of crops being cultivated on the rocky slopes
along the road … olives, grapes, lemons, oranges, kiwi-fruit, chestnuts,
hazelnuts, and lavender. She mentioned
that Limoncello, the second most
popular liqueur in Italy, is produced primarily in Naples.
Once we topped the crest of Mount Faito, we turned east along the Amalfi Coast on even narrower (sometimes single lane) high cliff roads, thousands of feet about the coast. What was emerging, around each blind corner, was a European version of the Pacific Coast Highway, only twice as treacherous.
Our stretch
van required more than ninety minutes to cover ten miles of the Amalfi Road
(SS163). As we progressed, I noted that
it had become completely silent in our vehicle and I wondered to myself if it
was because everyone was so absorbed with the incredible view … or if everyone
was getting motion sick. Finally, we
turned another corner and spotted a sign marking our destination, Positano.
What began
as a medieval port, the commune of Positano has become a huge tourist
destination, known for its fantasy-like beauty.
John Stenbeck once wrote in a 1953 article for Harper’s Bazaar, “Positano bites deep. It is a dream place that isn’t quite real
when you are there and becomes beckoningly real after you have gone.” It is a quiet, inaccessible fishing village,
strewn along the rocky cliffs of a hidden mountain cove. It has also become the poster child for
Italian tourism and tens of thousands of
visitors flock to Positano on a daily basis to see it for themselves.
Like many
places of incomparable beauty, Positano is a magnet for celebrities and the
uber-wealthy who desire to get away from it all and blend in with the three
thousand or so indigenous residents.
Rudolf Nureyev owned a tiny private island just off shore and movie scenes
from Only You and Under The Tuscan Sun were filmed here.
Scene from Under The Tuscan Sun filmed in Positano
Our tour van parked at an Esso gas station and we were informed that in order to get the most of our visit, we would need to descend a series of ramps and staircases more than six hundred vertical feet down to the harbor and beach. This would be the only way to get the famous Positano ‘post card’ photograph.
So down we
went. The walk down was very enjoyable,
investigating art shops and boutiques and local pubs. Eventually, we popped out onto a small
terrace and found a quaint stone beach with numerous small boats pulled up onto
the stones. A couple of shops were
selling hand-made lace women’s wear and Tam dove right in, looking for
something for Laura … with great success!
Outside, I marveled at the sight before me; countless popsicle-colored
villas climbing vertically up the mountain.
It was an incomparable sight! It
was a place lost in time, untouched by the real world. I took dozens of pictures of the villas, the
shops, the harbor, and the boats. Then I
put the camera down and sat on a concrete wall and took as many mental pictures
as I could.
A subtle
part of what made the whole experience so special was the attitude of the
locals that absolutely nothing special was going on around them. Can you live the dream, yet be so much a part
of it that you no longer realize you are in it?
Did I say I
hated Positano? Twenty minutes after
declaring it one of the greatest places on earth, and then after climbing six
hundred feet to get back to the van, I hated it (for a moment at least).
The return
to Sorrento was on the same roads from which we came. Tam broke out her ginger motion-sickness
chewing gum and handed it out to everyone on board. As we returned over Mount Faito, Giulia
pointed out the town of Gragnano, informing us that the finest and most
expensive pasta in the world was made there.
Sorrento is
located on the Gulf of Naples, across the bay from, but with a fantastic view
of, Mount Vesuvius. It is a very active commercial
city of 18,000 inhabitants who work in fishing, shipping, horticulture,
handicrafts, and tourism. It has a
thriving city-center, with many prosperous retail stores. One of those stores was A. Gargiulo Iannuzzi, a store selling high-quality, hand-made
woodwork. Tam purchased a very fine
jewelry box that she had shipped back to the states.
Giulia arranged for a wonderful lunch interlude at the Hotel Mediterraneo - Vesuvius Roof Restaurant overlooking the Sorrento cliffs from the fifth-floor dining room. We were served a three-course meal of spinach pasta cannoli, mozzarella chicken, and chocolate chip crème mousse.
Back in the van, we drove to one of the largest ongoing archeological projects in the world, Pompeii.
Pompeii was
founded six hundred years before Christ, and served as a vacation destination
for Roman elites for hundreds of years.
The village featured hundreds of private villas with baths, a gymnasium,
an amphitheater, laundry services, complex water and food systems, a winery,
beautiful gardens and lanais … as well as a very active sex trade … for only
the most well-sandaled visitors, of course.
It was the
Roman version of Las Vegas.
Under Roman
control, the city had become quite prosperous and had grown to a population of
more than 11,000, most of whom worked as servants for visiting elites and the
military. But all of that changed on
August 24 AD 79, when nearby Mount Vesuvius erupted with a huge cloud of
pyroclastic ash that destroyed the city within seconds.
It occurred so quickly, that many people were
covered, and instantly preserved as they stood, under 250 degree volcanic
ash. It rained down for six continuous
hours, and eventually, the entire city of Pompeii was buried under seventy-five
feet of tephra (volcanic
fragments). It literally disappeared off
the face of the earth.
The first
efforts to excavate Pompeii began in 1599, when the city was accidentally discovered
while digging to relocate the Sarno River.
There were several archeological efforts in the eighteenth and
nineteenth centuries, and the city slowly emerged from the ground, revealing
structures and artifacts, as well as human remains locked in the ash.
In 1819, an
exhibition of Pompeii relics went on display in Naples National Museum, and King Francis I of Naples was so
embarrassed by the erotic artwork, including a fresco of Priapus with an extremely oversized penis, that he had all of it
locked away from public view for more than a hundred years. Even today, the artwork is still locked in a
private cabinet and can be seen by consenting adults only.
By 2008,
Pompeii had become a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and attracts more than two and
a half million visitors per year.
Ongoing excavations continue to unearth new information and artifacts.
Tam and I
were dropped off at a central gathering point that included multiple gift shops
and food stands. Signs directed us to
the main Pompeii Excavation tourist entrance.
A tour guide was required, and necessary, to interpret the ruins spread
over a huge exposed hilltop. It was
clear to see that Pompeii was a sophisticated walled-city, with private villas,
stairs, and other infrastructure. We
walked on the same cobblestone streets that ancient Romans did two thousand
years ago, and passed by hundreds of apartments with walls still standing. The most impressive areas were communal areas
… an indoor mineral spa … large-scale food preparation and serving tables … and
aqueducts used for drinking water, washing and sewage. There were beautiful patios and gardens, with
pottery strewn about. The amphitheater,
where Romans gathered to be entertained, was still a thing a beauty, two
millennia later.
As we walked through the excavation, every so often, we would see a penis image carved into the street. Our guide stopped to explain that the city was covered with them, and they served to ‘point the way’ to the brothels. Roman men were expected to relieve themselves sexually on a regular daily basis, just as they would bathe or eat on a daily basis. Here in Pompeii, they would merely saunter down the street, following the penis pointers, and take care of business.
The sex rooms had a single piece of furniture, a straw or concrete bed … and the walls featured paintings of various erotic acts taking place. Ancient instruction manuals, perhaps?
My respect
for Pompeii had reached a whole new level by this point. Nevertheless, how much old brick and dirt can
any person stand? We returned to the
Epic at dusk and enjoyed pizza on our veranda.
This seemed like kismet, as Naples is known as the ‘Birthplace of
Pizza’. As we munched and drank fine
wine, we watched several high-end Ferraris loaded onto the ferry Snav Lazio, headed for delivery to
Sicily.
We toasted a successful cruise as the sun disappeared over Sorrento and Capri.
Epilogue
The next morning,
we awoke at the Port of Civitavecchia.
Our cruise was over. We boarded a
taxi for the Hilton Hotel Fumicino
International Airport, where we stayed for one more night. Yes, I revisited the Hertz counter at the
airport. No, the iPad had not shown up.
The flight
from Rome to Atlanta on Thursday (October 11) was smooth, as was our drive to
Nashville, Tennessee, our new home.
When we
sorted through our stack of mail, there were six Italian photo-camera speeding
tickets, all kindly forwarded to us by Hertz
Rent A Car. Tangible reminders of
our great adventure in Italy.
Grazie per i ricordi!!
Grazie per i ricordi!!
Tremendous thanks to
Mike and Joyce and their family,
for giving us the opportunity to take
part in such a great adventure.
