Never a Dull Moment, Including Italia . . .
Buon Sera . . . Ciao . . . Prego . . . Ciao!
I have used these interchangeable greeting/parting/thank you expressions of Italy heavily during the past week! I hope all of you are well and happy! As always, thanks for the emails . . . the link to home and reality is much valued!
When I last wrote, I had left Barcelona (reluctantly) for Cinque Terre, Italy, an all night/all day trip. First was a 3 hour train from Barcelona to the border of France and Spain, then a two hour layover in a town that consisted of . . . the train station. I huddled with a group that included an Australian, a Spaniard, a French girl turned Spaniard, a Kansas City native and a Santa Fe resident (as well as a few bottles of wine), while we waited for our train. I had an interesting discussion with the French bartender and one of her customers regarding the respective merits of two different French wines that were available (both from 1998 and the same region of France). As a Frenchman and longtime wine drinker, the customer concluded that the one with .5% more alcohol was the better one . . . who was I to challenge him? (I am not sure I have mentioned this, but in stark contrast with the United States, a glass of wine here typically costs $1 to $2 and you can get a litre bottle of good wine for about $6). Once we boarded the train, we discovered I was the lucky one with an entire compartment to myself (I had finally invoked my first class Eurail Pass status to get the compartment that comes free with the pass . . . one of the benefits of being 30 and no longer qualifying for the youth pass!). Accordingly, I hosted my first wine tasting party on the road and the conductor even approved our event.
Many hours later I arrived in the Cinque Terre, a group of five fishing villages along the northwest coast of Italy (on the Mediterranean). I hopped off the train at the first village, left my pack at the train station, picked up a picnic lunch (Neapolitan pizza and a small bottle of Cinque Terre wine) and made my way to the beach, which consisted of rocks and a harbor. The view was amazing (and you can see it in the attached photo)! I read and soaked up the sun for a while, then set out for the next town and my youth hostel. Of course, the hostel was closed, but luckily there was a pension just across the square which was lovely . . . the manager, an architect, designed it. As you know, I revel in the excellent accomodations I rarely experience, and this was wonderful . . . two words: HUGE BATHTUB. Dinner that night was at Trattoria Billy, where the customers were me and a group of 8 Italian men . . . my first introduction on this trip to that particular species. Billy serves a mean pesto and pasta; the Cinque Terre is the birthplace of pesto.
I spent the next day exploring the various fishing villages, each of which were beautiful and unique. I tried to hike from my village to the next one, but the trail was labeled as "very dangerous" even though the iron gate to it was wide open. Opting to take their word for it, rather than their actions, I took the "high road" detour. Next thing I knew, I was on top of a terrace used for grape growing that was VERY high up, not so good for someone with a paralyzing fear of heights! I was so relieved to find steps that would get me back to the village that I barely noticed when I passed a private chicken coop, a patio and finally an entrance gate to a home, pausing only to frantically look up the Italian words for "I am very lost, I am sorry" in my phrase book in case I was confronted with whatever the Italian version may be of the Texas shotgun. The only repercussion I suffered was an old woman glaring down at me from her window as I emerged from the gate. Ducking that town, I hopped a train and hiked from the fourth village to the fifth . . . it was a 2 hour hike that took me to amazing heights along the ocean (so high I could no longer hear the surf), over streams, across 8 inch wide trails, and up and down very steep stairs. Most of the time I was alone . . . I only met 3 hikers and one native during the entire hike.
When I finally reached the village of Monterroso al Mare, I found a bacci game in progress next to the beach. This game (kind of like bowling, with only small bronze balls and no pins) is played mainly in France and Italy, I believe, is much in favor with older men, and draws quite a crowd! I hung out with the group watching the game for the rest of the afternoon and met a sea captain (Angelo) who spoke perfect English from his 30 years of travels that included the States and Canada and now works for Esso, an Exxon company. That night, I checked out the Manarola nightlife with a German guy who was staying at my pension . . . we found that nightlife is not a concept well-established in the area but whiled away the time in a bar watching Italian TV shows with the owner. We had our share of excitement earlier in the evening, however, when an American girl failed to heed manager Gabriele s warning not to touch the middle switch of the light switches and caused a power outage in the entire pension that took an hour to correct.
I left early the next morning for Siena, Italy, which is outside Florence. On the way to Siena, I met Lorenzo, a longtime pilot in the Italian military who proudly informed me that he has taught himself all the English he knows. He was really sweet and we talked about how badly he wants to see the United States, but that his wife is physically unable to make the flight and he does not want to go without her. We also discussed our dogs and he admired my pictures of Kip. It makes me laugh to think about these Italian sea captains and pilots knowing about Kip . . . I knew he was destined for world fame!
After leaving Lorenzo, I reached Siena, a beautiful old town where cars are practically banned in the center of the city. I checked out the contemporary art museum and two other museums, the Campo (a town square where people gather to sun themselves), four churches (and yet another mass), the gelatto, Grotto Nero (a medieval-style restaurant), various shops and a classical music concert. The concert was amazing . . . it was held in a classic theatre that had three levels of white theatre boxes trimmed in gold (it looked like a classy version of the Hollywood squares game because of the way the audience members kept looking around at each other). This town and the pension where I stayed are among my favorites so far on the trip. The pension was supposed to have a myna bird on the terrace that says "ciao" when you come and go, but Alessandro, the owner s son, informed me that the myna recently flew the coop. One day, I had lunch at a great place where I was the only customer (it was late in the afternoon) and the two sons, home to have lunch with their parents, ate with them at the next table. (This is apparently a tradition in Italy). I laughed when the mother yelled at the younger son (who was a few years younger than me) to stop watching the Simpsons (dubbed in Italian) and get to the table. Some scenarios are universal.
Reluctantly tearing myself away from Siena, I headed south for Sorrento, Italy, to see the Amalfi Coast. I figured out two things: (1) the Naples train station workers need humanity training; and (2) most others I met in Southern Italy were really kind. I had heard horror stories about men from Southern Italy and, thus, was incredibly cautious, but I met some folks who were just saints about making sure I reached my destination safely. My first day in Sorrento, I explored the town (perched high above the ocean) and had a delightful dinner where Pascal and David were my waiters. David is attending a high school for those who wish to make a career of restaurant work and is doing some kind of apprenticeship at the restaurant. He and Pascal were so fun and always stopped by to keep me company when they were not busy.
The next day, I visited Pompeii, a town buried by lava when Mt. Vesuvius erupted in 62 A.D. and that was forgotten until the archaeologists began excavating it in this century. We even were treated to a small version of the fear the natives must have felt when the volcano started to erupt when a terrible, violent rain storm with sleet and hail broke out just as we were about to enter the ruins. After waiting out the storm, we were treated to nice enough weather to make the visit worthwhile. I cannot believe how many frescoes, columns and statues were found intact after all those years buried in lava rocks! They also have plaster casts of the residents who were buried in the rubble that show the terror and desperation of the villagers. The tour was incredible and the many dogs who live in the ruins helped fill in for my dog Kip (temporarily)!
Earlier that day, at breakfast, I met an American woman from Washington, D.C. In classic small world fashion, it turns out that she is an FDA attorney and went to law school at SMU (in Dallas for you non-Texans). We met for dinner that night and had a great time at Ristoranti Choreale. Afterward, I returned to the Merry Monk Pub, which I had discovered the night before, to use the computer and chat with a Brit-turned-Sorrento resident I met the night before. I also saw the Amalfi coast . . . the road from Sorrento to Amalfi runs above the ocean and includes at least 900 curves in the one-hour drive that is the most beautiful stretch of road I have ever seen.
I set out the next day for Venice, via Naples, where I experienced the first truly dark shadow on my trip. The trip into Naples was strange because, due to a wreck near the train station (not involving our train), we had to get off the train a few towns away and take a bus to the Naples station. I had been warned about the dangerous atmosphere in Naples and was trying to be ultra careful, watching the area around me, being cautious of strangers and keeping my belongings close by. When I went to the window to make my train reservation to Vienna, however, a thief stole my small backpack right from between my feet in the 3 seconds it took the window attendant to tell me to go to a different window. I was stunned because the bag included, among other things, my camera and all its accessories, the 2 journals I was keeping, all the names and addresses of the people I have met over here and those I am supposed to meet later in the trip. I knew I could replace the camera (and have already done so . . . it is covered by insurance), but the other items are definitely a loss I feel deeply. Anyway, I have vowed not to let this spoil my remaining time here and now (2 days later) am feeling much better than I did at the time. On the way to Venice, I met a nice older couple on the train and that also cheered me up. The lady, when she learned I was traveling alone, gave me a big thumbs up, even though we could only communicate through her husband, who knew a little French.
Venice, where I am now, is an incredible city! I love that there are no cars on the island . . . they use boats for everything, including the ambulance, firemen, vegetable sellers, UPS, water taxis, mail delivery, etc. I shopped like a maniac yesterday to replace the key items (camera and accessories, alarm clock, lipstick, journal and notebook, backup batteries, pens) that were in my backpack. Although I wish I had not had to spend my day that way, it was not so bad because I actually felt more like a native shopping for everyday, non-souvenir, items than I do on my typical day of museum visits and other sightseeing. I attended a classical music concert last night in a gorgeous church with an incredible violacello (?) solo by a guy named Davide and then met some really fun Kentucky girls in a pub on the way home. Today I reverted to the tourist role, visiting the huge St. Marks basilica with its gold- and jewel-encrusted altar piece, treasures stolen from Constantinople and spectacular mosaic tile floor. I also saw the greatest museum -- Peggy Guggenheims former home, which she donated to the city along with her private art collection. The art was nice and the house was wonderful, facing right onto the Grand Canal at one of its most beautiful points.
I should end this voluminous letter now, if any of you are still with me! Please forgive if it is entirely too detailed, but I am probably going to rely more heavily on my computer updates than on a handwritten journal for the rest of the trip. Just skim it and read the highlights, if you like! I leave for Vienna in two days and plan, in the meantime, to visit Verona one day and see more of Venice on the other. Stay tuned for the Vienna/Istanbul update next!
Ciao!
Lisa
I have used these interchangeable greeting/parting/thank you expressions of Italy heavily during the past week! I hope all of you are well and happy! As always, thanks for the emails . . . the link to home and reality is much valued!
When I last wrote, I had left Barcelona (reluctantly) for Cinque Terre, Italy, an all night/all day trip. First was a 3 hour train from Barcelona to the border of France and Spain, then a two hour layover in a town that consisted of . . . the train station. I huddled with a group that included an Australian, a Spaniard, a French girl turned Spaniard, a Kansas City native and a Santa Fe resident (as well as a few bottles of wine), while we waited for our train. I had an interesting discussion with the French bartender and one of her customers regarding the respective merits of two different French wines that were available (both from 1998 and the same region of France). As a Frenchman and longtime wine drinker, the customer concluded that the one with .5% more alcohol was the better one . . . who was I to challenge him? (I am not sure I have mentioned this, but in stark contrast with the United States, a glass of wine here typically costs $1 to $2 and you can get a litre bottle of good wine for about $6). Once we boarded the train, we discovered I was the lucky one with an entire compartment to myself (I had finally invoked my first class Eurail Pass status to get the compartment that comes free with the pass . . . one of the benefits of being 30 and no longer qualifying for the youth pass!). Accordingly, I hosted my first wine tasting party on the road and the conductor even approved our event.
Many hours later I arrived in the Cinque Terre, a group of five fishing villages along the northwest coast of Italy (on the Mediterranean). I hopped off the train at the first village, left my pack at the train station, picked up a picnic lunch (Neapolitan pizza and a small bottle of Cinque Terre wine) and made my way to the beach, which consisted of rocks and a harbor. The view was amazing (and you can see it in the attached photo)! I read and soaked up the sun for a while, then set out for the next town and my youth hostel. Of course, the hostel was closed, but luckily there was a pension just across the square which was lovely . . . the manager, an architect, designed it. As you know, I revel in the excellent accomodations I rarely experience, and this was wonderful . . . two words: HUGE BATHTUB. Dinner that night was at Trattoria Billy, where the customers were me and a group of 8 Italian men . . . my first introduction on this trip to that particular species. Billy serves a mean pesto and pasta; the Cinque Terre is the birthplace of pesto.
I spent the next day exploring the various fishing villages, each of which were beautiful and unique. I tried to hike from my village to the next one, but the trail was labeled as "very dangerous" even though the iron gate to it was wide open. Opting to take their word for it, rather than their actions, I took the "high road" detour. Next thing I knew, I was on top of a terrace used for grape growing that was VERY high up, not so good for someone with a paralyzing fear of heights! I was so relieved to find steps that would get me back to the village that I barely noticed when I passed a private chicken coop, a patio and finally an entrance gate to a home, pausing only to frantically look up the Italian words for "I am very lost, I am sorry" in my phrase book in case I was confronted with whatever the Italian version may be of the Texas shotgun. The only repercussion I suffered was an old woman glaring down at me from her window as I emerged from the gate. Ducking that town, I hopped a train and hiked from the fourth village to the fifth . . . it was a 2 hour hike that took me to amazing heights along the ocean (so high I could no longer hear the surf), over streams, across 8 inch wide trails, and up and down very steep stairs. Most of the time I was alone . . . I only met 3 hikers and one native during the entire hike.
When I finally reached the village of Monterroso al Mare, I found a bacci game in progress next to the beach. This game (kind of like bowling, with only small bronze balls and no pins) is played mainly in France and Italy, I believe, is much in favor with older men, and draws quite a crowd! I hung out with the group watching the game for the rest of the afternoon and met a sea captain (Angelo) who spoke perfect English from his 30 years of travels that included the States and Canada and now works for Esso, an Exxon company. That night, I checked out the Manarola nightlife with a German guy who was staying at my pension . . . we found that nightlife is not a concept well-established in the area but whiled away the time in a bar watching Italian TV shows with the owner. We had our share of excitement earlier in the evening, however, when an American girl failed to heed manager Gabriele s warning not to touch the middle switch of the light switches and caused a power outage in the entire pension that took an hour to correct.
I left early the next morning for Siena, Italy, which is outside Florence. On the way to Siena, I met Lorenzo, a longtime pilot in the Italian military who proudly informed me that he has taught himself all the English he knows. He was really sweet and we talked about how badly he wants to see the United States, but that his wife is physically unable to make the flight and he does not want to go without her. We also discussed our dogs and he admired my pictures of Kip. It makes me laugh to think about these Italian sea captains and pilots knowing about Kip . . . I knew he was destined for world fame!
After leaving Lorenzo, I reached Siena, a beautiful old town where cars are practically banned in the center of the city. I checked out the contemporary art museum and two other museums, the Campo (a town square where people gather to sun themselves), four churches (and yet another mass), the gelatto, Grotto Nero (a medieval-style restaurant), various shops and a classical music concert. The concert was amazing . . . it was held in a classic theatre that had three levels of white theatre boxes trimmed in gold (it looked like a classy version of the Hollywood squares game because of the way the audience members kept looking around at each other). This town and the pension where I stayed are among my favorites so far on the trip. The pension was supposed to have a myna bird on the terrace that says "ciao" when you come and go, but Alessandro, the owner s son, informed me that the myna recently flew the coop. One day, I had lunch at a great place where I was the only customer (it was late in the afternoon) and the two sons, home to have lunch with their parents, ate with them at the next table. (This is apparently a tradition in Italy). I laughed when the mother yelled at the younger son (who was a few years younger than me) to stop watching the Simpsons (dubbed in Italian) and get to the table. Some scenarios are universal.
Reluctantly tearing myself away from Siena, I headed south for Sorrento, Italy, to see the Amalfi Coast. I figured out two things: (1) the Naples train station workers need humanity training; and (2) most others I met in Southern Italy were really kind. I had heard horror stories about men from Southern Italy and, thus, was incredibly cautious, but I met some folks who were just saints about making sure I reached my destination safely. My first day in Sorrento, I explored the town (perched high above the ocean) and had a delightful dinner where Pascal and David were my waiters. David is attending a high school for those who wish to make a career of restaurant work and is doing some kind of apprenticeship at the restaurant. He and Pascal were so fun and always stopped by to keep me company when they were not busy.
The next day, I visited Pompeii, a town buried by lava when Mt. Vesuvius erupted in 62 A.D. and that was forgotten until the archaeologists began excavating it in this century. We even were treated to a small version of the fear the natives must have felt when the volcano started to erupt when a terrible, violent rain storm with sleet and hail broke out just as we were about to enter the ruins. After waiting out the storm, we were treated to nice enough weather to make the visit worthwhile. I cannot believe how many frescoes, columns and statues were found intact after all those years buried in lava rocks! They also have plaster casts of the residents who were buried in the rubble that show the terror and desperation of the villagers. The tour was incredible and the many dogs who live in the ruins helped fill in for my dog Kip (temporarily)!
Earlier that day, at breakfast, I met an American woman from Washington, D.C. In classic small world fashion, it turns out that she is an FDA attorney and went to law school at SMU (in Dallas for you non-Texans). We met for dinner that night and had a great time at Ristoranti Choreale. Afterward, I returned to the Merry Monk Pub, which I had discovered the night before, to use the computer and chat with a Brit-turned-Sorrento resident I met the night before. I also saw the Amalfi coast . . . the road from Sorrento to Amalfi runs above the ocean and includes at least 900 curves in the one-hour drive that is the most beautiful stretch of road I have ever seen.
I set out the next day for Venice, via Naples, where I experienced the first truly dark shadow on my trip. The trip into Naples was strange because, due to a wreck near the train station (not involving our train), we had to get off the train a few towns away and take a bus to the Naples station. I had been warned about the dangerous atmosphere in Naples and was trying to be ultra careful, watching the area around me, being cautious of strangers and keeping my belongings close by. When I went to the window to make my train reservation to Vienna, however, a thief stole my small backpack right from between my feet in the 3 seconds it took the window attendant to tell me to go to a different window. I was stunned because the bag included, among other things, my camera and all its accessories, the 2 journals I was keeping, all the names and addresses of the people I have met over here and those I am supposed to meet later in the trip. I knew I could replace the camera (and have already done so . . . it is covered by insurance), but the other items are definitely a loss I feel deeply. Anyway, I have vowed not to let this spoil my remaining time here and now (2 days later) am feeling much better than I did at the time. On the way to Venice, I met a nice older couple on the train and that also cheered me up. The lady, when she learned I was traveling alone, gave me a big thumbs up, even though we could only communicate through her husband, who knew a little French.
Venice, where I am now, is an incredible city! I love that there are no cars on the island . . . they use boats for everything, including the ambulance, firemen, vegetable sellers, UPS, water taxis, mail delivery, etc. I shopped like a maniac yesterday to replace the key items (camera and accessories, alarm clock, lipstick, journal and notebook, backup batteries, pens) that were in my backpack. Although I wish I had not had to spend my day that way, it was not so bad because I actually felt more like a native shopping for everyday, non-souvenir, items than I do on my typical day of museum visits and other sightseeing. I attended a classical music concert last night in a gorgeous church with an incredible violacello (?) solo by a guy named Davide and then met some really fun Kentucky girls in a pub on the way home. Today I reverted to the tourist role, visiting the huge St. Marks basilica with its gold- and jewel-encrusted altar piece, treasures stolen from Constantinople and spectacular mosaic tile floor. I also saw the greatest museum -- Peggy Guggenheims former home, which she donated to the city along with her private art collection. The art was nice and the house was wonderful, facing right onto the Grand Canal at one of its most beautiful points.
I should end this voluminous letter now, if any of you are still with me! Please forgive if it is entirely too detailed, but I am probably going to rely more heavily on my computer updates than on a handwritten journal for the rest of the trip. Just skim it and read the highlights, if you like! I leave for Vienna in two days and plan, in the meantime, to visit Verona one day and see more of Venice on the other. Stay tuned for the Vienna/Istanbul update next!
Ciao!
Lisa
posted by Lisa at 9:51 AM
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