Tom’s Travels

 

CRETE

 

 

After teaching intensive courses for two months in the summer, Colleen and I decided to get away to a warm climate. We decided on Greece, a country neither of us had visited, and found a somewhat inexpensive package deal to Crete. There are tons of packages to Greece originating in the Prague and it was difficult to find one that was not already sold out. We ended up in a small tow/village on the north coast called Analipsis. It’s about 20 kilometers from the capital city of Heraklio or Iraklion depending on which map or street sign you were reading. I think Heraklio is the English spelling and Iraklion is the Greek.

 

Analipsis is in an area of the island that is growing rapidly based on expansion of the tourist trade. Lots of construction and new building surrounded by the older, somewhat rundown little town. There was a brand new, fancy, modern, very expensive resort right on the beach near the modest place where we stayed. But most of the buildings in the area, even the new ones were simple and plain. Even in the little town there were vacant lots overgrown with weeds and a hundred meters up the road was an olive orchard. Our apartment was simple but nice. No air conditioning and no fan but we were able to get the breeze from the ocean about 200 meters away and had a good view of the sea.

 

Crete is an island in the eastern Mediterranean some distance from the mainland of Greece. It has an ancient history which blends into Greek Mythology. According to Greek Mythology, the Goddess Rhea fled to Crete to protect her unborn child from his father, Cronos, who swallowed his children because he feared that one of his offspring would usurp his power. That child was Zeus. Later, Zeus transformed himself into a bull and seduced Europa by whom he had Minos, the future ruler of Crete. Minos married Periphae whom the Gods tricked into falling in love with bull and she conceived the Minotaur, the fierce creature with the body of a human and the head of a bull. The Minotaur inhabited the labyrinth in Knossos and each year young boys and girls were placed in the labyrinth as sacrificial victims. Theseus, the son of the king of Athens ultimately killed the Minotaur. Angry that the Minotaur had been killed, the King of Crete imprisoned Daedalus, the architect of the labyrinth, and his son, Icarus, in the labyrinth. Daedalus built wings out of feathers and wax and they tried to escape. Unfortunately Icarus flew too near the sun, against his father’s warning, the wax melted and he fell into the sea and drowned. So, as you can see Crete figures largely in the stories you have heard and read about Greek Mythology.

 

There is evidence that Crete may have been inhabited as early as 6500BC. We know that the Minoans, one of the early civilizations, existed in 2600BC and reached it’s zenith in 1900BC when the palace at Knossos was built. (More about that later.) After prospering for 1500 years, the Minoan civilization was destroyed by the Greeks in 1100BC and the Greeks ruled the island until the Romans took control in 67BC. After the fall of the Roman Empire, Crete became part of the Byzantine Empire from 330AD to 1204AD with a brief interlude from 813 to 961 when the Saracens controlled the island. In 1204, the Crusaders, rather than making that long trip to Jerusalem and fight the Infidels, decided to sack the Christian city of Constantinople instead. They dismembered the Byzantine Empire and sold the island of Crete to the Venetians. The Turks and the Ottoman Empire took control of Constantinople in 1453 and after many attempts, finally conquered Crete in 1669 and ruled until 1898. The Cretans rebelled with the help of the Greeks and were declared an independent state in 1898. Crete was united with Greece in 1913 The island was occupied by the Germans from 1941 to 1945. And so ends the History lesson for today. No tests.

 

The first few days were spent going from the beach to the pool. Nothing strenuous and no desire to do much more. The beach was nice and deep, lined with chairs and umbrellas you could rent. The beach was sandy but the water was clear, even at the shoreline. Crete is a huge rock and at water’s edge there were flat, slippery rock shelves you had to get across to get into deep water. It was very windy and the breakers would shove you back. The water was cold but not unbearable after you got in. I wanted to get a tan so I was careful about how much time I spent in the sun. The little village of Analipsis struck me as more “poor” than “quaint” or “fancy” as you would expect of a village on the sea which depended primarily on the tourist trade.

It was active at night but mostly only people going to restaurants to eat or wandering in and out of tourist shops. Very little night life, which was fine as we had a kitchen and ate most of our meals in the apartment.

 

After a few days, we got bored with just lying n the sun, so we took a day trip to Heraklio and Knossos. Knossos is the Minoan Palace built in 1900BC, destroyed by an earthquake, rebuilt, and destroyed again about 1300BC. Knossos is big and consists of many building which comprise the palace. Mostly just ruins, there are several columns and frescoes which are brightly colored as they would have been originally. This was done by a British archaeologist named Evans who began the excavation of Knossos in 1900. From paint chips still on the walls and small fragments of the frescoes, he restored the color on certain columns and reconstructed frescoes as he thought they would have been. Thus we have several bright colored frescoes including the famous one depicting “bull jumping” in which the young man runs toward a charging bull, grabs him by the horns and vaults over his back. Evidently a pastime enjoyed by young Minoans who had nothing better to do. The construction was amazing for something built at that time. There were stairs, columns that were larger at the top than the bottom, archways, and colorful frescoes. We marvel at Machu Picchu in Peru but that is a city made of stones. Stones that are so precisely carved that they fit together so well you cannot slid a piece of paper between them. But Knossos predates that by 3500 years. ( The Incas thrived between 1400 and 1500AD.) Knossos reveals a culture that seemed much more advanced than the Incas. Advanced construction techniques, art, and religious symbolism are all there. Unfortunately, I have no pictures because my camera battery was dead and I had not checked it before. Dummy me.

 

Crete is a barren land. It reminds me of Provence with even less vegetation. Rugged, rocky terrain. And I think most of Greece is the same, beautiful but austere. According to something I read, ancient Greece was lush and green. However, because the olive oil trade was so lucrative, one of the rulers long ago declared that all the land would be cultivated in olive trees. The natural vegetation was stripped away and olive trees were planted everywhere. Unfortunately, olive trees don’t have an elaborate root system. They depend on the tap root which grows deep into the ground. Thus the olive tree can survive in a land of little rainfall because it finds water underground. But without a root system, there was nothing to hold the land and the rich topsoil eroded away and with it the lush vegetation. Another example of the misuse of natural resources.

 

Back in Heraklio (Knossos is just outside of town), we strolled though town. Saw the major sites including the Morosini Fountain built in 1628 to bring water to the city. The harbor, Venetian Harbor, is protected by a jetty and defended by a huge Venetian fortress at the end of the jetty. Didn’t go into the fortress (not sure it was open) but went out on the jetty, an exciting excursion as waves were crashing over the seawall and we had to run between waves to keep from getting drenched. All in all it was a good day trip. Easy to get around by bus.

 

Crete is not a huge island, only about 200 miles by 50 miles and we were in the middle. So, after a couple more days on the beach we got restless and we decided to take a road trip. We rented a car and headed for Hania. It was easy to find, just follow the “New National Road”, which was equivalent to a state road in the USA, certainly not similar to the interstate system. The interesting part was that the road signs were in three different languages, each language on it’s own sign. Hania, which I think is English, Chania, which might be Russian with the “ch” as one letter sounding like the “ch” in the Scottish “loch”, and, or course, the Greek, Xania. X being the initial sound in Chi Omega, for all you fraternity and sorority members.

 

We stopped in Rethimno, one of the major towns on the sea, wandered the narrow streets and had lunch. Rethimno has a beautiful protected harbor and a lighthouse which dates from the Turkish period. Narrow, crowded, winding streets and lots of tourist shops. Visited the Venetian fortress which sits on a hill and dominates the city and the harbor. The fortress has thick walls, ramparts, round guard towers on each corner, all of gray stone. You enter the fortress through an arched tunnel. There are several buildings inside including a mosque.

In Hania, we found a room near the old harbor. Spartan would be a good description. We payed the man because he would not be around the next morning. He had to work. We walked away from the water into the town. Not particularly interesting til we got back down to the harbor area. Kirk told me he had been stationed in Hania when he was in the navy. His main base was Rhoda, Spain but he spent a week in Xania from time to time. The harbor, protected as usual by a jetty with a lighthouse at the end, is really pretty. Lined with cafes and packed with strolling tourists. Each cafe has someone out front inviting you to dine with them and showing you their menu, but they are not aggressive. If you say no they say, “have a nice evening.”

 

Stopped in one of the cafes and had a couple of beers and watched the world go by. Very pleasant, very nice. The waiters were very playful and gregarious, calling back and forth to the waiters in the cafe next door. Only a rope separated the cafes along the waterfront. When we asked for the check, the waiter acted surprised. “You’re leaving us?” He conferred with another waiter and then, when he came back to the table, he brought two small beers and three shots of Raki, the local firewater. We toasted each other and threw down the shots of Raki, obviously, the third shot was for him. We drank the third beer slowly, too much alcohol for me, and then had to ask for the bill again, insisting that he not bring more drinks.

 

The room that night was near the harbor and just above an outdoor cafe. Since here was no AC and no fan, we had to keep the windows open. Unfortunately, the little cafe below us was very popular and had live music, two guitars and a singer, and a noisy clientele. It was difficult to get to sleep until the wee hours.

 

The next morning, we headed down to Elaphonisis, a tiny village with a beautiful beach. The beach was wrapped around a narrow peninsula. The sand was fine as sugar and almost as white except for a slight tinge of pink, for which there was a scientific explanation which I never discovered. The was was as clear as that in a swimming poll. It’s one of the top beaches in Greece, deservedly so. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, it’s very isolated and you have to want to get there to go there. No casual, “Oh, there’s a nice beach. Let’s stop here.” It’s definitely out of the way, but tourist buses from Hania and other locations kept arriving all day long and the beach was crowded. The water was very shallow and you walked out a long way before you could actually swim. We rented lounge chairs and a beach umbrella and spent our time in and out of the sun and in and out of the water. It was a great day.

 

On the way home, I was stopped for speeding in an open stretch of country between Hania and Rethimno.. I was doing 93 kilometers per hour, about 55 miles per hour and the officer told me the speed limit was 60 KPH. That’s 36 miles per hour!!!! On the NEW National Road. I was astounded! 36 mph on the best road in the country, in the countryside???? It cost me 40 Euros if I paid within ten days, which I did. From then on I watched the speed limit carefully and watched it vary from 80 KPH to 30 KPH in the city. 18 Miles per hour? The Cretans certainly want to live a slow-paced, laid-back lifestyle.

 

As we drove through the larger towns, it was interesting to see the architecture. Nothing interesting. Nothing exotic. Most of the building appear to be built of square sections but not stacked evenly on top of each other. They look like a three year old child has tried to stack his blocks but doesn’t have the coordination to do a good job. A vertical tower with square segments sticking out at different levels and on different sides. We didn’t see any of the classic white houses with blue roofs.

 

After a couple more days on the beach and at the pool, we rented a car again and headed south to Matala in the Libyan Sea (The part of the Mediterranean north of Crete is the Cretan Sea). We crossed the island south of Heraklio and drove through the mountains and dropped into a broad, valley that was heavily cultivated. The greenest part of the the island I had seen. Matala is a small village which depends on tourists visiting the beach. The beach is a wide, sandy crescent with cliffs at each end. Cafes line the beach offering food and drink to the sunbathers. One of the cliffs is riddled with caves which were carved out of the wall and used as tombs by the Romans. I went into several but didn’t find any skeletons or Roman coins.

 

Matala has a pebble beach, rather large pebbles and rocks that made it hard to walk on. It was also hard to get into the water. There were large, slippery boulders just under the water and you had to be very careful of your footing. It was windy that day and waves were crashing in but the water was clear and refreshing. Spent all the time in the water or getting sun and a good time was had by all. Drove back to Analipsis, very carefully.

 

The next day we headed east, planning to avoid the sun and preserve what tan we had. We went to Agios Nicholaus, a small town with a lake in the center where, legend has it, Aphrodite used to come here to bathe. Lots of those old Greek stories center around Crete. From Agios Nicholaus, we took a boat trip out to Spinalonga, a small island off the coast that used to be a leper colony. Along the way, we stopped for a swim. They just anchored up and let us jump in. Water was clear and refreshing but too deep to see anything. Spinalonga is a small, barren island protecting a large harbor. It was fortified by the Venetians in the 15^th century. In the early 1900’s it became a leper colony. There was no cure for leprosy and consequently, they were isolated. The former residents of the island were moved and the lepers occupied the existing homes. We landed and, since the island was fortified, entered the island the same way the lepers had, through a long, dark tunnel. The was one other entry to the island and it was used by the doctors and nurses who came out periodically. The lepers were treated very well because the government did not want them to try to escape to the mainland. They had electric lighting when the city on the mainland was still using gas lamps. Even during the German occupation, the lepers didn’t suffer any hardships for the same reason. No one wanted them to leave the island. A cure for leprosy was found in the 1950’s and the residents of Spinlonga were treated and ultimately allowed to go back to their families. Our guide pointed out that 3 million people have leprosy today even though there is a cure which is relatively inexpensive. And then, of course, she made a plea for contributions.

 

Our last day was spent at the beach and around the pool soaking up those last rays of sunshine. Our plane didn’t leave til 11:30 at night but the hotel told use we could keep our towels for the day and they had showers and changing rooms available. It was a good trip. I didn’t delve into the history as much as I usually do and that’s a shame because Crete is certainly unique and has a storied history.

 

ITALY

 

21 June, ’08

Italy, ah Italy. Two weeks in Italy. Colleen and I left the house at 4AM to catch a flight to Milan, Italy. We chose Milan because the flights were cheap and, more importantly, because our friend Julia Kotula was there. The flight was uneventful but beautiful. We flew over the Italian Alps, possibly the Dolomites. The mountains were ragged and sharp and snow-capped in June. In the deep, narrow valleys, we could see small towns and villages that seemed to have tumbled down the mountainside and settled in the very bottom. The surrounding mountains were so steep that they allowed only a brief window of direct sunlight to the town below. Beautiful, but I wouldn’t want to live there with so little daylight.

 

We landed in Milan, found the train into town and were met at Cardona Station by Julia. Julia is Polish, teaching in Italy, taught with us in Malaysia, and vacationed with us in Bali. Though running a slight fever, she looked great and was her usual lively self. After excited greetings, she guided us to the metro, then the bus, and then a walk to her apartment. We stopped at an open market in a parking lot where she conversed easily with the locals hawking their wares while buying fruit and olives for lunch. She had only been in Italy for ten months but I was very impressed with the level of her Italian. We had a delightful lunch at her apartment, including olive bread in which whole olives are cooked in the bread. I could become addicted. After lunch, we headed back downtown.

 

The centerpiece of Milan is the Duomo (I found out later that Duomo means Cathedral). In Italian towns and in towns all over Europe, the church is usually the most beautiful and most impressive structure, often occupying the highest point in town and dominating the city. The Duomo in Milan is truly magnificent, a stunning, white structure, probably the result of a recent renovation. It was begun in 1386 by Visconti but not completed until 1812 (at Napoleon’s insistence, some say). It is the largest Gothic church in the world and the third largest church of any kind. It was designed to hold 40,000 people, the population of Milan at the time it was begun and has 135 spires and 3200 statues, mostly on the outside. The interior is rather dark, lit only by the 146 stained glass windows. 52 massive columns divide the aisles and because of the lack of light, you feel you are in an underground cavern.

 

We rode the lift to the roof, a mere 7 Euros (5 if you climb the stairs). From the roof you get a wonderful view of the city, but, more importantly, you can see the intricate detail, the workmanship, the planning that went into each spire. Not all the same but each spectacular. And each spire is topped by a statue, a life-sized statue precariously balanced on the head of a pin. And there are 135 of them, a miraculous feat. The highest spire supports a gold Madonna. I always marvel at the craftsmanship, time and effort required to make all those statues. And those who designed the building and began the construction, never lived to see its completion. I’m only happy that they still exist for me to enjoy. Time alters so many things but the Duomos remain the same.

 

The treasures of the church include a nail from the cross. Would love to carbon date all those relics from the cross, Some Arab was laughing up his sleeve when he sold a splinter of wood for a fortune.

 

After the Duomo, we went to the fancy shopping center next door, The Galleria Something or Other. It had all the big names. Two broad walkways intersected in the middle where the four cornerstones of the Galleria were featured: Gucci, Prada, Yves St. Laurent, and MacDonald’s. I swear! I’ve got pictures! MacDonalds! Beyond the Galleria is a statue of Leonardo De Vinci in a small park with a pigeon on his head facing La Scala, the famous opera house. ( the pigeon was only a temporary visitor to be replaced by one of his relatives.) La Scala is nothing to look at from the outside but is supposed to be magnificent within. We wandered through neighborhoods and came to Julia’s favorite gelato shop. Gelato is Italian ice cream and it is delicious. All Italians love it. The Sicilian owner of the shop was delighted to see Julia and greeted her enthusiastically, arms flailing, in a loud voice. Once again, Julia impressed me with her command of the language.

 

We walked along the canal that runs through the city and had an aperativo in the late afternoon. Aperativo is much like tapas in Spain. You buy a drink for 7 Euros and you can eat all you want from a buffet. It’s the best deal in Italy. We had wine and two heaping plates of food, some of which I recognized.

 

Back at Julia’s apartment, we tried to stay awake but couldn’t.

 

 

22 June, ’08

 

 

We got up slowly today, showered and had coffee. At my suggestion, we decided to go to Lake Como. (Colleen was hoping to see George Clooney). We had croissants and more coffee at the station and got on the train. Along the track, we saw lots of graffiti, some of it very good. I don’t know how the artist/vandal has time to complete a major work without being apprehended. On the outskirts of town, there were tall panelaks (communist era apartment buildings) with clothes hanging from the balconies to dry. We rode through flat land, cultivated with corn and wheat and then got into the foothills of the Alps. We descended into the city of Como which is nestled against the lake and surrounded by mountains dotted with villas (widely spaced for privacy, of course). We rode the funicular up to the village of Branante, hoping to get spectacular views of the lake. I’m sure the views were there, but not for tourists. The trees and condos blocked our view. We had lunch in a small, secluded park marked “private.” Julia had made sandwiches of cheese and ham and olive bread. Delicious!

 

Back down the mountain, we walked along the lake past beautiful homes stacked on the hillside nearby, fountains, people sunbathing and people just strolling as we were. Lake Como was something of a disappointment. I had envisioned the pure, clear, mountain lakes of New Zealand. Not so. Lake Como is dirty, or, at least, not pristine. Visibility is poor and debris floats near the shore. I thought maybe this was so because we were at the city but Julia told me it was the same at Bellagio where two arms of the lake meet (and George lives nearby). There is a lot of traffic on the lake, large boats carrying groups of tourists to other small towns around the lake. We had gelato but it didn’t compare with what the Sicilian had to offer.

 

In town, we headed for the Duomo (they’re everywhere!) down what was the major shopping street with all the big names, including MacDonald’s, in a very old building. MacDonald’s seems to always have a prime location. The Duomo faces a large square lined with restaurants. The building has a distinct Moorish look with arches and columns of alternating blocks of different colored marble, something I had seen in a famous mosque in southern Spain. As usual, the church dominated the skyline of downtown Como. It was beautiful, replete with art and sculpture.

 

Back in Milan, we briefly visited the Sforzesco Castle, a huge fortress like structure with high walls and a moat, which was empty. It reminded me of the Spilberk Castle in Brno where the political prisoners of the Austro-Hungarian Empire were kept. For supper, Julia prepared a fancy meal of prosciutto and melon, tomatoes and mozzarella, salad, olive bread and wine. Delightful!

 

23 June, ’08

 

Coffee and a brief goodbye with Julia. Not as long, clinging and tearful as there had been in Malaysia. This time I think we knew we would meet again. We talked about possibly traveling together the first two weeks in September. Maybe Sicily. Hope that works out. Julia is a pretty, vivacious, outgoing happy young woman. Just wish the right man would come along to complete her happiness. She deserves the best.

 

We journeyed by bus, tram and metro to get to the train station. I was surprised that in a train station in a town the size of Milan there were only squat toilets. Very hard on my knees. Milan is a big city, a city of fashion, a worldly city, a modern city. Certainly the tourist sites are old and well preserved but there is also a confidence about the city, an awareness and pride that they can compete with other great modern cities.

 

We boarded the train marked Napoli (no mention of Florence, our destination0, but I had asked if it were on the right train. Very quickly we were in the countryside with cultivated fields. Then we hit hills and mountains, rugged, wooded land. Much like Provence but greener, not as rocky. The land flattened out again and we had blue sky, sunshine and olive trees – Tuscany! Beautiful, just like in the movies.

 

We got off the train in Florence and followed the directions the hotel had given us. In ten minutes, we were standing in front of the Duomo in Florence, that magnificent structure that is the heart of the city. It was stunning, unlike all others with a facade of white and green and pink marble. We proceeded to the hotel, dropped our bags and came right back. Colleen kept repeating, “I’ve never seen anything like it.” And it’s true. The different colors and designs in the marble are striking. The facade is very ornate with statues and carved marble. In contrast, the interior is dark and open, with few pillars, very simple. And the great dome rises upward, probably the most famous symbol of this historic city.

 

The great church consists of three parts: the Duomo, the Baptistry and the Campanile (the bell tower). The Baptistry, the oldest of the three buildings, may date from the 11^th Century and was probably built over the remains of pagan temple. It was dedicated to St. John, the Baptist, and Dante referred to it as “my beautiful St. Johns.” It’s an octagonal building and supports a dome. Inside the dome is a beautiful mosaic of Christ in Triumph. Other mosaics encircle the dome in rings, one atop the other, each telling a story from the bible. Florentine artists, including Cimabue, worked on the mosaics. The Baptistry also houses the tomb of Pope John XXIII, which was designed by Donatello. There are three huge doors to the Baptistry, the most famous of which are the east doors which face the Duomo. They feature ten bronze panels, designed and executed by Ghiberti between 1425 and 1452, depicting stories from the bible. Michelangelo referred to the doors as the “Gates to Paradise” and the name stuck

 

The Campanile, designed by Giotto, who didn’t live to see its completion, was begun in 1334 and completed in 1359. A square, vertical tower, in contrast to the dome of the Duomo, rises to a height of 276 feet.

 

The Duomo, (actually the Cathedral Santa Maria del Fiore) is the centerpiece of Florence. It is the fourth largest Christian building in the world behind St. Peter’s in Rome, St. Paul’s in London, and Notre Dame in Paris. Construction was begun in 1296 on the site of the Romanesque Cathedral of Reparata. The great dome was designed by Brunelleschi and completed between 1420 and 1436. It was a magnificent architectural achievement at the time. Brunelleschi was the first to use safety harnesses and only one workman fell to his death during the construction. The facade, the marble exterior which is so striking, was not added until between 1871 and 1887. I found out later that the beautiful marble exteriors which make the churches so beautiful were added years, even centuries, after completion of the original structure. The interior of the Duomo is more renaissance than gothic, having been built years earlier. Frescoes encircle the inside of the dome, the largest being the Last Judgment by Vasari. The dome reaches a height of 296 feet and is the tallest structure in the city. The surrounding area of red topped roofs seems to bow down in its presence. One can climb the dome and enjoy closer views of the frescoes or even get outside at the summit for a panoramic view of the city. I didn’t.

 

We left the Duomo and wandered toward Ponte Vecchio, stumbling onto the Piazza Della Signoria. Facing the Piazza are the Loggia Della Signoria and the Palazza Vecchio. The Palazza Vecchio was originally designed as a city hall but ultimately used as the residence of Cosimo Medici the First in the 16^th century. Cosimo later moved to the Pitti Palace. The Palazza is a warm terra cotta color and is decorated with many coats of arms. The attached, towering belfry dominates the square. The Loggia is simply a covered terrace filled with sculptures including a statue of Perseus brandishing the severed head of Medusa by Cellini. ( I keep mentioning the artists because I have taken two Art History courses since college and so many of the names I remember lived and worked here in Florence.)

 

Just in front of the Palazza is a copy of the David by Michelangelo. Mind you, it’s only a copy. The original is in the Galleria dell’Accademia but I was settled for the copy. There is also a marker in the Piazza indicating the spot where the Bonfire of the Vanities took place. In 1497, a monk named Savonarola had risen to such power that he coerced writers and artists, including Botticelli and Michelangelo, to burn some of their works. Incredible!!! What magnificent works of art may have been lost? A year later, Savonarola was burned at the stake for heresy … on the same spot! Too late.

 

Between the Loggia and the Palazzo, you enter the Piazza of the Uffizi. The Uffizi consists of two long, parallel buildings joined by an overhead passageway at one end. Beyond that is the River Arno and the Ponte Vecchio, the oldest bridge across the Arno. Destroyed many times, the latest structure dates from 1345 and was the only bridge in the city spared by the Germans in 1945. The bridge originally housed butcher shops which threw their waste into the river. They were forced to leave in the 16^th century and now the bridge is lined with expensive jewelry shops. We had sandwiches in a cafe overlooking the bridge then walked on to the Pitti Palace, a huge, uninviting, fortress-like structure. In 1550, it became the main residence of the Medicis.

 

We found a market, bought bread and cheese, went back to the room and crashed.

 

24 June, ’08

 

 

Today was festival day – the Festival of San Giovanni (St. John the Baptist, the patron Saint of Florence. Just outside the hotel, a group of men in colorful, red and yellow, medieval costumes were gathering for a parade. Shortly, we heard drums and trumpets and the parade started. The procession moved in slow measured steps in time with the drums. It was lead by a woman in a long, blue velvet gown carrying a box opened to reveal a crucifix. She was accompanied by men in various colored costumes with plumed hats, bright jackets and baggy slashed pants revealing a contrasting color. Next came men in black robes, probably the city elders, Then a religious group, men with flags, and the drum and bugle core_ all in bright colored costumes of heavy material, maybe wool. They marched slowly to the Palazza Della Signoria. The lady and her entourage entered the building while the flagmen and drum and bugle corps performed outside. And they put on quite a show. There was much flag waving and then they began to toss the flags back and forth. At one point, they formed a huge circle and threw their flags high in the air and all the way across the circle to their partner. Not a flag hit the ground. There were two teams of flagmen, one in red and white and the other in yellow and blue, and two teams of drummers. All the flag tossing was choreographed with the beat of the drums. Quite a spectacle. When the lady came out of the palazza, they all marched away to another location. Unfortunately, I never found out the significance of the procession or why the lady went into the Palazza but I assume that the tradition goes back for centuries. The costumes were fantastic.

 

Went to the Galleria dell’Accademia to see the real David but the line stretched around the block. Talked to a girl from Kentucky and one from Tennessee who had been waiting for over an hour just to buy a ticket.

 

After lunch, we went to San Lorenzo, which was the parish church of the Madicis for over three hundred years. A simple stone slab marks the tomb of Cosimo I, the founder of the Medici dynasty. The church was rebuilt in 1419 by Brunelleschi (yes, it has a dome). The magnificent bronze pulpit was Donatello’s last work. Michelangelo designed the staircase and library attached to the church and also offered designs for the façade but the work was never done. Thus, the exterior is rough terra cotta colored stone. Designs by Brunelleschi and works by Donnatello and Verrochio abound, commissioned by Cosimo Medici I, Lorenzo, the Magnificent, and other Medicis through the ages. The exteriors of the churches which we marvel at today were often not added until long after the church was completed, but I mentioned that didn’t I. The Duomo did not have the marble façade we see when Mark Twain visited Florence in 1867.

 

Next came the church of Santa Maria Novella. Begun in 1279, the main part of the church was not completed until 1360. Domenico Ghirlandaio is buried in the adjoining cemetery. The interior is somewhat austere with alternating white and black marble arch stones ( maybe the motif is not Moorish after all). The chancel features huge frescoes by Ghirlandaio done in 1485 and one of the chapels has a crucifix by Brunelleschi. The sacristy contains a crucifiction scene painted by Giotto. There’s a crucifiction scene by Masacchio and a marble pulpit by Brunelleschi. It’s hard to believe that so many great masters worked on a church that is NOT the mosy famous or important in the city, much less the country. The front of the church has a beautiful marble façade but the sides are still bare stone.

 

Tried to get into a “traditional” football game but it was sold out. Slipped inside just as the game ended. The participants were still on the dirt field constructed in front of Church of the Holy Cross at Santa Croce. They were bare chested and wore medieval slashed pants with the colors of their team. It must have been a very physical, rough game as all the men were sweaty and dirty and some were bleeding. Others were putting ice packs on their heads. Post-game, the field was filled with men in medieval costumes who paraded in and out.

 

After supper, we watched vendors hawking their wares, purses, scarves, prints, etc. Some sold Gucci and YSL purses right under a sign that said “No Fakes.” All the merchandise was displayed on big, white sheets. Whenever the police were spotted, they grabbed the corners of the sheet and scooped everything up on their backs like Santa Claus and his bag of goodies. I was told that they’re in trouble ONLY if they are caught in the act of selling something. If they are carrying the merchandise, they are only someone carrying a sheet full of purses. It’s a game! The police drive up_ slowly. The vendors grab their merchandise and walk fifteen feet. The police don’t stop and three minutes later, the purses are back on the street. Everyone knows the rules and everyone plays the game.

 

 

25 June, ‘08

 

 

Today was devoted to the Uffizi Gallery. My art books came to life. So many famous paintings by the great artists of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance; Cimabue, Giotto, Lorenzetti, Filippo Lippi and Masaccio. Ghirlandaio, Leonardo da Vinci and Botticelli. Botticelli’s “Birth of Venus” and “Primavera” are both very large and in the same room. Both are darker than the pictures you see but still stunning. Cranach, Durer, Mantegna, and Holbein. Michelangelo, Raphael, Titian, Tintoretto, El Greco and Caravaggio. They were all there! One of the most outstanding museums in the world. It was wonderful! I really can’t describe it. It has to be seen. Unfortunately, no pictures were allowed.

 

Another fascinating feature of the museum was the ceiling in the long corridors. Divided into square segments the width of the corridor, each segment had a different theme: artists, sculptors, men of power, etc. The names and portraits of each were there. Most were recognizable and memorable, but some have disappeared into the shadows of history.

 

 

26 June, ’08

 

 

Had breakfast in our favorite little café. The Bar Cuccciolo (yes, three c’s in a row) is a very efficiently run father-son operation. There is little talk and no instructions. Each knows what must be done and he does it well. In the morning, the father prepares sandwiches and the son sells coffee and pastries. The radio plays pop/rap music (probably the son’s choice). At lunchtime, the music is softer (the father prevails).There is a huge amount of food. Pizzas and sandwiches are displayed in a very orderly manner. It seems to be too much. How can they sell all that food? But, they do. Everyday! And how long have they done it?

 

We bid them goodbye and went to the Bargello Museum which primarily houses sculptures. The building was formerly the office of the chief of police and has a rather austere exterior. But inside, there is a magnificent two-story courtyard with coats-of-arms around the walls. The Donnatello room houses his “David” which is currently being restored. Now I understand why restoration takes so long. While we were there, two girls sat by the bronze figure, which was face down, and chatted. Maybe they were just guards but no one did anything to restore the statue.

 

The Michelangelo room had two of his works and two others were on loan at moment. We saw “The Drunken Bacchus”, one of his early works, and “David-Apollo”, an unfinished work that, evidently, Michelangelo hadn’t decided who it would become.

 

Went to the Church of the Holy Cross at Palazza Santa Croce. Another incredible structure. Begun in 1295, it contains works by Giotto, Ghiberti, Donatello and Brunelleschi (he was everywhere!) Cimabue and Michelangelo contributed as well. The striking feature of the church is the fact that there are 276 gravestones in the floor and several enormous, elaborate tombs around the aisles. Michelangelo, Galileo, Machiavelli and Rossini are buried here in tombs that must be 15 to 20 feet wide and covered with huge statues and carvings. All very impressive.

 

We were preparing to leave Florence and I felt that we had not spent nearly enough time there. We had not been inside the Pitti Palace, the Galleria della Accademia, the Palazza Vecchio or so many other places that contained beautiful works of art I had not seen. Three days is certainly not enough to enjoy the marvels of Florence. It’s my new favorite city. Milan is a modern city, competing with the world, trying to be the best. Florence is Florence. Beautiful, confident and content. “We are who we are and we like it. We don’t want to change. We’ve had our moment of glory and that glory still shines in the art we have given to the world. It’s still here. Come and see it.”

 

We traveled to Siena by bus, enjoying the Tuscany countryside. We walked about 15 minutes carrying all our luggage to our hotel, only to be told that this was only the reception and we were staying in another location. A man walked us to our hotel which overlooked the spot where we had gotten off the bus. I was upset but the room was nice and there was a big kitchen down the hall. But, there was no air conditioning! We found a market and had a big salad for supper.

 

 

27 June, ’08

 

 

Siena is very hilly. You’re always walking up or down, often very steeply. (Florence is flat). The center of the city is a pedestrian area and has the feel of a small town. Siena is composed of seventeen contrada or sections. Each has its own colors and flag and the residents exhibit fierce pride. I heard a tour guide explaining to her group that Italy was a conglomeration of city states until they were united in 1861 with Turin as the capital. (Rome became the capital in 1870.) She added that the people still feel loyalty to their city state: Florence, or Pisa or Siena or Naples or Rome. In the same manner, the residents of Siena feel pride and loyalty for their contrada.

 

The city is preparing for Il Palio, the annual horse race in the main piazza, the Piazza del Campo. The race has been run since 1283 and there is great pageantry and competition. Horses are assigned to each contrada by lot and the prize is a huge banner painted by a local artist and bragging rights. So much for so little but so fiercely contested. The Contrada have strange names, like Snail. Porcupine, Unicorn, Forest, Wave and Eagle. Colleen picked the Porcupine. I picked the Snail or the Ram because I liked their flags or the Unicorn because the colors are orange and white. The race will be run June 2. Unfortunately we won’t be here. Prices get too expensive for me. You can watch the race from the infield where you will be locked in for about four hours with 50,000 of your closest friends and no bathroom or you can rent one of the balconies overlooking the piazza for about 250 Euros per person.

 

We had lunch at one of the many restaurants around the Piazza del Campo. The piazza is a huge half circle, flat on one side in front of the Palazza Publico, which was built in the 13^th century and houses the local government. The Torre del Mangia rises high above the palazza and dominates the square. The tower expands at the top, like a flower blossoming, to a room, the Loggia, with crenelated walls like a fortress. Dirt has already been put down on the racetrack and the bleachers are in place. I would love to be here for the race just to see the pageantry that precedes it.

 

I decided that there must be some connection between Siena and Rome as I saw several statues atop free-standing columns of a she wolf nursing two infant boys, presumably, Romulus and Remus. I think it is the symbol of Rome as I didn’t see this a single time in Florence. Then I learned that legend has it Siena was founded in the 8^th century BC by Senius, the son of Remus.

 

Went to the Duomo, another enormous church located on the highest point in the city. It is striking with alternating colors of marble inside and out. (A lot of pink is used on the exterior). This church was intended to be larger than the Duomo in Florence, the two cities have always been rivals and have fought wars through the centuries. The present church was supposed to be only the transept of the larger structure. Today, a single, isolated stone wall showing the extent of the original and stands as evidence of the grand plan. The floor of the Duomo has 56 large marble panels depicting scenes from the Old testament or mythology. Statues, paintings, and frescoes abound. Works of Donatello, Bernini and Pisano. Even the ceiling is painted. Every nook and cranny is filled with a work of art. I’ve been in a lot of churches in Europe but each one is fascinating. Each is different. Each has it’s own special appeal.

 

Visited briefly the Basilica of San Domenico ( as much to get out of the hot sun as anything). The church is rather plain but it contains the skull of St. Catherine of Siena. I didn’t bother to look for it. Today, we are so concerned about disturbing the rest of the dead. Cemeteries have to be moved if they are to be covered by a lake. We search for the remains of soldiers killed in battle so they can be properly interred. Yet, in centuries past, we removed the head of a woman from her body so we can have a relic for the church. There are bones of Saints in churches all over Europe. There are even bone churches. Would we take the bones from a recent Pope and distribute them to churches throughout the world? I hope not.

 

Watched a twenty minute film about the Palio, knowing we were not going to be there. Colorful costumes, flag tossing, great tradition, and a very dangerous race. The riders ride bareback and the winner is the horse that crosses the finish line first, whether his rider is aboard or not.

 

 

28 June, ’08

 

 

This was a slow easy day with no plans, no monuments to visit, no churches to marvel at. Wandered through the town to find an internet site. Flags representing the different contrada have sprung up all over town, lining the streets. And I suddenly noticed that the street lamps, ornate candelabras mounted on the sides of the buildings were painted in the colors of the contrada where they were located. It became a challenge for me to get photos of as many flags and street lamps as I could. This kept us wandering through town most of the day. Went to the Piazza del Campo again. All is in readiness for the big race. People have begun to wear scarves with their colors, They may be replicas of the flags, knotted in front and hanging down the back like the kerchiefs wore by Boy Scouts. Really wish I could stay for the big event.

 

 

29 June, ’08

 

 

Caught the bus for Arezzo, an hour’s ride through the Tuscan countryside. Rolling hills of brown fields and rolled bales of hay like huge spools of thread. Fields of bright, yellow sunflowers, all facing the sun. Cypress trees standing like sentinels around villas on the hillside. Curvy roads leading to hilltop villages of brown houses with red, barrel tile roofs and a panoramic view of the country. Vineyards and olive groves were everywhere.

 

Arezzo is another walled, medieval city. It is the birthplace of Petrarch and Vasari, the art historian who provided us with so much information about his contemporaries. However, these facts don’t seem to be used for commercial gains. No signs, “Petrarch was here.” The principal tourist attraction in Arezzo is the church of San Francesca which houses the frescoes of Piero dells Francesca. His masterpiece is a series of ten frescoes which tell “The Legend of the True Cross.” I had never heard the legend and was delighted to learn about it.

 

It seems that when Adam, the first man, died, his son, Seth, placed three seeds from the Tree of Knowledge under his tongue. From these seeds grew the tree used for the cross on which Christ, the new Adam, was crucified. The tree was first used to build a bridge. The Queen of Sheba told Solomon that the wood from the bridge would bring disgrace on Israel so he ordered the wood to be buried. St. Helena, the mother of Constantine, conducted a search for the true cross. Only an old Jew knew the location of the wood so she had him lowered onto a well for six days until he revealed the location. (There seems to be no explanation of to when and why the wood from the bridge was dug up, used as the cross and then reburied). St. Helena found three crosses. Each one was held over a dead man and the one which brought him back to life was the true cross. Three hundred years later, the cross was stolen by the Persian king, Chosroes, and then recovered by Heraclius who returned the cross to Jerusalem. So ends the Legend of the True Cross. There seem to be some gaps in the story but in the Middle Ages, no one questioned what they were told by the church. But, obviously, in Jerusalem, the True Cross was torn into pieces so splinters could be sold as relics to almost every church in Christendom.

 

There are other frescoes in the church, all in poor condition. The church is Romanesque, fairly simple in design with a wooden roof supported by huge beams. An enormous Crucifix hangs over the alter.

 

At lunch, we saw a tour group of Brits, all of advanced age. One couple in particular caught our eye. The man seemed very feeble physically and the woman appeared to have Alzheimer’s. She kept asking if they were going to the train and he kept explaining that they were going to the church. She kept wandering away and he kept trying to catch up with her. At least, they were still out there traveling, I was happy about that, but I wished someone from their group would a close eye on them.

 

The Piazza Grande in the center of town is huge and surrounded by medieval houses, some with crenelated towers and many with coats of arms displayed proudly on the walls. The Duomo in Arezzo is Romanesque and was built between 1278 and 1511. It has stained glass windows, frescoes and the tomb of Pope Gregory X. The pope is laid out in full view in all his regal splendor. His skull is covered by a mask of gold. Not sure why the church likes to have dead people lying around in full view. There was a wedding taking place in the church in a side chapel. The bride marched in to meet the groom who was waiting at the alter. And then they just stood there and chatted for seven or eight minutes. There was no priest! The young couple seemed very relaxed, talking to each other and to friends in the congregation. Finally the priest made his appearance and the ceremony began. I thought the bride was supposed to be the last one to enter???

 

Went to the Church of San Domenico to see a crucifix by Cimabue. Another wedding was taking place but got a picture anyway. Didn’t have time to see the Roman Amphitheatre in the town.

 

Arezzo was the setting for several scenes in the movie, “Life is Beautiful” by Roberto Bagnini, which won an Academy Award. Several places have posters out front showing pictures of which scenes were filmed in their establishment. You could even take a tour related to the film.

 

 

30 June, ’08

 

 

Caught the bus back to Siena and as we entered the city got a better view of the medieval walls and the old gates to the city and the carvings thereon. All very impressive. Especially when you think about when it was built and the workmanship involved. Almost everyone is wearing a scarf now with their colors. Excitement is running high. Made a quick bus change and moved on to San Gimignano.

 

San Gimignano is another wonderful, old walled medieval city with the walls still intact and only five gates of entry. It’s my new favorite small town. It’s a hilltop village and offers panoramic views of the countryside. All the buildings and houses are of a rich, warm terra cotta colored stone, often mixed with whatever other building materials were available at the time of construction. All in all a very harmonious and beautiful scene.

 

The town is dominated by tower houses, houses with square towers reaching skyward, high above the living quarters. Of the seventy original towers, only thirteen remain. There are two theories to explain the existence of these towers. One claims that they were used for defense during the Guelf-Ghibelline conflicts in the 13^th century. The other states that they were used to hang cloth. At one time, San Gimignano was a major producer of saffron colored cloth. To keep the cloth away from the dust of the city while it dried, it was hung from the towers. And since the longer the piece of cloth, the higher the price, the merchants built high towers to increase their profits.

 

The Piazza della Cisterna is a beautiful square in the center of the city with a well (cisterna) right in the middle. The square is surrounded by houses with bright colored flowers in flower boxes in almost every window and several towers. ( I haven’t really mentioned it but there are beautiful flowers in all the towns we have visited in Italy.) Immediately adjacent to the Piazza is the Piazza del Duomo with a view of seven towers. The Duomo (The Collegiata di Santa Maria Assunta) is a simple Romanesque structure with frescoes covering the walls, some by Ghirlandaio. Unfortunately, no pictures were allowed, as has been the case since we left Siena.

 

We had a standing coffee. Standing coffee (you drink while standing, if you didn’t quite understand the concept) is 1 Euro while coffee delivered to your table is 3 Euros, but you get a small dish of cookies. Now, I like cookies, but that’s a little steep. We climbed to an old fortress, the highest point in the city with great views of the Tuscan countryside. Hilltop villages, villas with cypress trees, vineyards and olive groves. A man was playing the harp and several artists were painting and hoping to sell their wares.

 

We had dinner and took more pictures in the Piazza della Cisterna. The houses around the square are all connected but each is distinct. We had a sandwich, then a pizza and a bottle of wine. It was an expensive meal but the setting made it worthwhile. I didn’t want to leave. The local wine, Vernaccio, was very good and had no damaging effects.

 

I love San Gimignano. I love the cobble stone streets, the old buildings, the colors of the houses, the beautiful flowers. The Piazza Cisterna. I love it all.

 

 

1 July, ’08

 

 

We caught the bus the next morning to to go down the hill to Pongibonsi (don’t you just love that name!) 6 Euros for a ten minute bus ride. The train to Pisa was only 10 Euros for two and a lot farther. We made a quick change (maybe five minutes) in Empoli. Since there is seldom anyone there to look at your ticket as you get on, there’s always that moment of doubt that you’re on the right train. But it always seems to work out, except that time in Luxembourg, of course.

 

We planned a two hour layover in Pisa. Nothing to see there but that damned tower. Yes, it’s still leaning but it seems they have propped it up enough to allow tourists to climb it again. Last time I was there you couldn’t go up. Was glad to see that the guidebook now states that the Baptisty and Duomo are leaning as well but to a lesser degree. This confirms what I said ten years ago. They picked a lousy spot to build a church. Other than these monuments, Pisa doesn’t have much to offer. It’s interesting to note that the major tourist attraction in the city is the result of faulty engineering. We took the requisite photos and left.

 

On the way back to the train station, we stopped for lunch. A coke cost me 3.80 Euros, about $6! When I asked why, the waitress said, “The service.” I got the coke out of the cooler myself. The only thing she did was to bring a glass of ice to the table and I didn’t use it. I was happy to leave Pisa.

 

On the train, we passed a town called Carrara. I bemoaned the fact that strip mining had defaced one of the mountains just behind the town. This side of the mountain was white, not a tree in sight. However, the guidebook pointed out that this area has been providing the highest quality marble since Roman times. The marble for Michelangelo’s David came from Carrara. But, it didn’t make me feel much better about the gash in the mountain.

 

The closer we got to the sea, the more blue sky we saw. After La Spezia, we began to get glimpses of the blue water of the Mediterranean. We stopped at Riomaggiore, the easternmost town of Cinque Terre. Cinque Terre is an area, a national park in fact, composed of five small villages right on the Mediterranean, either on the water’s edge or on a cliff overhanging the sea. The villages are connected by a hiking trail that offers spectacular views of the area. All the towns are small and very hilly. You’re either climbing up or walking down. You can walk the entire trail in six or eight hours and that includes frequent stops to enjoy the view. Some of the trail is paved and other parts consist only of loose rocks. Sometimes you’re close to water’s edge and others you’re high above with an eagle’s eye view. Parts of the trail are flat and easy and some are steep and treacherous.

 

We found a place to stay, wandered around the town a bit and a found a little bar overlooking the sea, and drank wine as the sun went down. It reminded me of another cliff top village, Eze in France.

 

 

2 June, ’08

 

 

 

Riomaggiore – Breakfast on the street in an open air cafe. Seemed to be a lot of locals with babies and all the other locals would stop and ooh and aah. We decided to walk to the next town on the trail by the sea (That’s why we came!) Paid our six Euros and began. The ticket office opens at 8Am and closes at 6PM but the gates to the trail are never locked or even closed so it would seem that you could go early or late and avoid the fee. But we discovered that there are checkpoints along the way so they’re going to get their six Euros if you’re on the trail during the day. The walk to Manarola is paved, the shortest and the easiest. A group of young people accompanied by chaperones began at the same time we did. One teenage girl immediately began to write her name on the guard rail, the rocks, even the plaques naming different sites. Tried to stop her but she just looked at us, moved away and began writing again. There was a lot of grafitti on the trail and she just added to it. The chaperones didn’t say anything. A real shame. At one point a middle aged woman asked to borrow the girls marker so she could deface one of the plaques. The girl looked at us as if to say, “See. She’s doing it. It’s OK.” I just shook my head in disgust.

 

The views along the trail are spectacular. The water is crystal clear as there are no sand beaches, only rocks. Everything was gorgeous. There were several spots where you could get down to the water and we saw people swimming and sunbathing.

 

At an easy pace, with lots of stops, we got to Manarola in about 45 minutes. When we got into town, I asked the woman who was talking tickets if it was OK to write your name on the rocks and told her about the girl. She finally understood what I was trying to complain about and said, “It’s OK, but only for beauty.” She seemed unconcerned that someone was defacing park property. The Italians must have a different idea of beauty. It looked like the girls group was going to stop and eat at Manarola and I didn’t want to be anywhere near them, so we pressed on.

 

The trail to Corniglia, the next town was much more rugged, more up and own, rockier and only partially paved. It took longer but we made it. Corniglia is perched on a cliff high above the sea. You have two choices entering the city from the east. You can follow a winding, paved, mountain road or you can take a more direct route, a stairway of 365 steps, back and forth, back and forth, just like that inside a building. I opted for the road. In town we had a nice lunch, a salad with lots of vinegar and oil, in a tiny cafe on a narrow street not actually wide enough for a single car. Sat next to a couple, Americans, whose primary topic of conversation at lunch was where to have dinner. Lunch was followed by dessert, gelato. We’ve tried gelato in several places, some better than others but all good.

 

On the way back we stopped for a swim. The water was cold, refreshing and beautiful. Wish I had had goggles. Several girls were sunbathing topless. We had seen them when we passed so they had been there all day. They were all very brown. Several teenagers took turns jumping off the rocks into the water. Seemed very dangerous to me. The water was so clear that it was difficult to judge the depth of the water. But they seemed to know what they were doing and no one got hurt.

 

Back in Riomaggiore, we bought bread, cheese, olives and wine for supper. This was the night of the Palio in Siena and we settled in to watch it on TV. There was a big buildup to the race showing several events that went on in days prior. They showed a children’s foot race through the streets, each representing his contrada. They showed the selection of the horses, a dangerous situation. Horses are drawn by lot and when each horse is chosen, the enthusiasts from that contrada rush forward and gather around the horse shouting and trying to touch it. The horses get excited and often buck and kick. I was surprised that no one was injured. They showed the big banquet style dinner that each contrada has the night before the race. Everyone wearing their colors, singing, and toasting. The morning of the race, the jockey AND the horse are led into the church and blessed by the priest. Strange to see a horse before the alter.

 

Activities in the square start a couple of hours before the race. Consequently, those in the infield are locked in, with no bathroom, until the race is completed. Representatives of each contrada parade in, one by one. Everyone in costume with lots of flag waving and flag tossing. No one seems to be in a rush and I wondered if the flag tossing was being judged as it went on for quite some time. It’s a long and colorful procession. The Palio, the banner, comes in last on a wagon drawn by four white oxen. The banner is hoisted into place, the track is cleared, and the horses are brought in.

 

The horses enter according to their post positions. They are called into the starting area one by one. The starting area is simply a space between two ropes drawn across the track. When the last horse enters the area, the front rope drops and the race immediately begins. But it’s not as simple as that. There is a great deal of jostling and shoving by the horses between the ropes and changing of positions. The horses are very excited. The last jockey can wait for a strategic moment to enter the area and start the race, a moment when his path is clear through the area and he can have a running start on the others. There were several false starts and horses had to be brought into the area again. Finally, the race began. Three times around the square riding bareback. One horse shot to the front and stayed there throughout the race. Two jockeys fell off but appeared unhurt.

 

And the winner was ……. Porcupine! Colleen’s choice. There was jubilation! People cheering, hugging each other crying. It seemed almost like a religious experience, as if something incredibly wonderful had happened, a miracle. All very exciting, a spectacle to watch. But, after it was over, everyone seemed to join in the celebration, winners and losers, an excuse to party, which seemed very nice. The losers weren’t devastated. The only disappointing thing about the TV broadcast was that they didn’t show a rerun of the race.

 

 

3 July, ’08

 

 

A very slow day. We had to change rooms which was no problem except there was neither a fan nor air conditioning. Asked the man for a fan and it was supplied quickly. Had an omelet for breakfast, checked the e-mail, and rode the train to Vernazza where we were going to stay the next night. Vernazza is much like Riomaggiore, maybe a little bigger, with a protected harbor and a small sand beach. Had lunch in the harbor and relaxed and watched the people swimming.

 

In the afternoon, we went swimming back in Riomaggiore. Cold, fresh,clear, great. A rock beach and not too comfortable to lie on but I was happy to be there. At one point, where a cliff juts out into the sea, some kids were jumping into the water, some from as high as 25 or 30 feet. I wouldn’t have done that even when I was young. That night we had supper in the little bar/cafe overhanging the Mediterranean. An odd assortment of music was played. Some soft, Nora Jones, some rock, Elton John, and even some country, Dolly Parton. And then, Tennessee Fans, suddenly there came to my ears the familiar, delightful, heart-pounding strains of ROCKY TOP!!! Fantastic!! Rocky Top in Italy! What better way to end an evening. Watching the sunset on the Mediterranean and listening to Rocky Top. My life is complete.

 

 

4 July, ’08

 

 

American Independence Day and I didn’t even think about it until an Italian waiter mentioned it. After breakfast, we got on the train to Vernazza. Unfortunately, the train didn’t stop in Vernazza, it went to the next town, Monterosso al Mar. We caught the next train back but were an hour late meeting the man who had rented us a room. We lugged all our bags up, up, up, a steep, narrow, little alley to get to the room. Vernazza is even steeper than Riomaggiore.

 

Had lunch in the harbor and went swimming. Moved away from the sand beach in search of clear water and a place to lie down. Getting into the water was difficult because of the slippery rocks but it was worth it. Found a place to lie down on huge, flat boulders and were able to get some sun.

 

In the late afternoon, the sea really kicked up and heavy waves crashed into the seawall sending spray everywhere. Two teenage girls kept jumping off the seawall. The level of the water was about six feet below the top of the seawall but when the waves came in, water poured over the edge. The girls would leap in, wait for the right wave and be lifted up to the seawall so that they could almost just step out of the water. It seemed to be a game to see who could catch the perfect wave that would lift them onto the seawall.

 

 

5 July, ’08

 

 

Intended to swim this morning, our last day, but the water was still very rough so I opted out. Had breakfast near the water and watched the hardier souls jumping in. The same young girls were out there again. I wasn’t really sure why they weren’t crushed against the seawall by the big waves. I love to watch the waves crashing into the rocks, sending spray high into the air. I always marvel at the force of the angry sea and admire the courageous men who, years ago, set forth in wooden sailing vessels to explore unchartered waters.

 

Took the train to Monterosso to catch the train to Milan. Had to wait for a while in the train station in a cafe overlooking the beach. Monterosso is the only one of the five towns of the Cinque Terre which has a long sandy beach. Beach umbrellas, all the same color, a bright yellow, and carefully positioned in neat rows, line the beach in front of the station. Different colored umbrellas stretched along the beach in both directions for almost a kilometer, a bright selection of color swatches lying side by side. The beach was crowded with people sunbathing and fighting the surf at water’s edge.

 

We caught the train directly to Milan, then a metro and another train and we were back at the airport. The flight back to Prague was uneventful but the moment we got out of the plane I had to put on my jacket, the first time I had needed it since leaving Prague two weeks before.

 

 

Italy was wonderful. The history. The architecture. The art. The beauty of the land and the sea. And it was hot. Made it very hard for me to come back to Prague. I hope to go back. Would like to spend a lot more time in Florence and would like to see Rome. So much to see, so little time.