Day 26 - Venice

Friday, October 30 -- Day 26 -- This Was the Week That Was


The Lido Riviera

What a full day! Determined not to get lost, I set out for the Ca’Rezonnico by vaporetto, which would drop me right in front of the Palazzo/museum. After I blew it off yesterday, I’m almost embarrassed to say this is my new all-time favorite Venice museum. I guess I just don’t have the imagination to appreciate the art just randomly spread around poorly lit rooms, but the Academia left me cold yesterday. This is as much about the furnishings and décor as about the incredible art, and just when I thought I’d had my fill of Tiepolos, along comes this! There is a Murano glass chandelier in there that dates from the 17th century that could have been designed last week. I spent about two hours there -- usually past my max for most museums.

Then I took the vaporetto to the Lido. This is very different from the rest of Venice. It reminds me of Coronado; it’s a beach resort, but very suburban/residential. It has a small but nice commercial area, some cars and busses, but no real traffic, lots of bikes and pedestrians, it’s fairly well-to-do, but not at all opulent. I walked along the beachfront nearly to the end of the island in one direction and took the bus back to the little pedestrian center, then walked along the “bay” Riviera in the other direction. I saw the Jewish Cemetery, which was closed.

By the time I got back, school was cleaned up and closed. The “graduates” had their certificates, their photos taken, and had had a little party. They also had another “field trip” to the foundry because they were making a special kind of gold smalti that they don’t do very often and it was a rare opportunity to see. Almost everyone had wrapped up their projects already, but Charlie was still plugging away. (He’s back in the studio now wrapping it for transport home.) We’ve got a ton of chips to carry back to finish his piece. At least I don’t have to worry about the glass breaking in transit! He says he really learned a lot and enjoyed the class. I know I loved my week.

It turns out the Miami couple are “modern orthodox” Jews and they planned to go to services tonight in the ghetto. We asked to tag along, thinking it would be an interesting experience. They had been last week and knew the ropes. So, passports in hand (they check them for security), we walked the two blocks from our hotel. Well, the time of the services change every week with the setting sun, and we got there after it had begun. No problem -- in fact it was a blessing; it made the service shorter. Off I go upstairs behind the mehitza (Jeannie decided not to come) and Charlie and Michael go into the sanctuary. Didn’t bother to take a prayer book, because I can’t read Hebrew or Italian. The women followed along in their books, but did not open their mouths. Could not recognize any of the prayers, the chanting is so completely different. And we must have missed the kaddish. I missed my Dad’s yarhzeit last week, and specially wanted to be there for that. Oh well, Dad would turn over in his grave (if he had one) if he knew I ever said it.

But the real event came next. The local Chabad runs a kosher restaurant (which is very good; we’d eaten there not knowing it’s provenance). Well, they host the whole community for dinner (free, because they can’t take money on Shabbat) afterwards. Actually, except for the yeshiva boys and the rabbi and his family, most of the guests are international tourists. The locals go home for dinner. This was a huge meal, starting with Israeli type antipasto, which included challah, hummus, at least six or seven kinds of salad. That was followed by fish, chicken soup, pot roast, chicken, and dessert served by the students (and some Gentile employees). All washed down with wine, Coke, and my personal favorite, water. This was the most orthodox event I’d ever been at, with lots of singing (everyone) and dancing (men only) and praying (everyone) and hand washing (everyone) and an interpretation of the Torah portion (one student who went on longer than most Seders) more praying, and finally, escape. It was really an interesting and delicious experience for the first hour, but by the end of the second hour I was pretty ready to get back to pack..

I can’t believe how many new experiences I crammed into this day.

We leave Domus Orsoni tomorrow and will spend our last night in Italy at a hotel in Mestre, a little closer to the airport for our very early departure Sunday.

21,716 steps (none of them unintentional)

Thursday, October 29

Thursday, October 29 -- Day 25 -- Random Wandering

The early morning view from our room. That's the foundry on the other end of the garden.

I never fail to get lost. Took the vaporetto to the Academia this morning. The museum was a disappointment -- more gold leaf, more sacred art, and a little earlier in the development of Italian art than interests me. So I decided to walk to the Ca’Rezzonico Museum (i8th century), very nearby. How could I get lost, just staying along the edge of the Grand Canal for a few blocks? Don’t know how, but I did. I discovered a new area of Dorsodouro. A wonderful flea market, another fish market, and a produce market in Campo Margerhita. Far more interesting than another museum would have been. But then I couldn’t find my way to the vaporetto stop, so ended up walking all the way back to the Domus Orsoni to meet the group for the “field trip” to see the mosaics at the San Marco Basilica.
I almost didn’t go with the group because I’d gone at the beginning of the week, but this was an escorted tour with the teacher as docent. I was impressed by my first visit, but this was really amazing. She narrated the history and the technique, and I learned a bit about Byzantine mosaics. (Never know when that might come in handy.) The group went back to the studio, dying to get back to their projects. Some are finished, others are nearly so, but poor Charlie is just plugging away, maybe halfway done. His project is way bigger and more nuanced, and there’s no way he can finish it here. He’s hoping they’ll give him the tiles to take home to finish it. Amazingly, he’s not discouraged, and is still having a good time with it.
Anyway, they left me and I proceeded to get lost again. Wanted to go to areas beyond Piazza San Marco since I’d seen almost all the area between our place and the square. So I did. But I somehow managed to double back without being aware of it. Again, I couldn’t find a vaporetto stop and ended up walking back. But not without a gelato to fortify me. Everyone gets lost here. But I get totally disoriented, so I don’t even have a sense of the general direction I’m going. It’s really ruining my reputation as a navigator. It’s lucky we’re not too far from the train station, so I can follow signs toward that until I recognize my neighborhood and know my way.
Charlie and I went to dinner alone, because he didn’t want to take a long break and socializing with others stretches the meal. So we went alone to a new (to us) neighborhood place and managed to take two hours anyway! It’s the Italian way, and he’s going with the flow better than I’d expected. Now he’s back in the studio and I’m at our little netbook.
17,115 (mostly lost) steps
　
　
　

October 28 Venice & Treviso

Wednesday, October 28 -- Day 24 -- A Side Trip

Oops. I guess I didn't learn so well. Did you get a date and nothing more?


Treviso city walls

Yesterday we were promised the shower would be fixed tomorrow, which should’ve been today, right? Well, I guess “tomorrow” is more like “manana” than a US tomorrow. But we’ve got it down to a two person operation; not as sexy as it sounds. Soap up on our own, then call the other for the rinse, so the hose can be held with one hand and the spray with the other.

Today I went off to Treviso, about a 30 minute train ride to the north. Why did I go? Because my sister-in-law, who knows and loves Italy, suggested it. (Thanks, M.J.) I had no idea what to expect. Treviso is a small city with a beautiful university, a well-preserved centro, and - surprise! - canals. Not as many as Venice, but beautiful, running river water. The sound of the water is everywhere you go in the central area. It’s very uncrowded, upscale, and clean, especially compared to Venice. The shops are the ones you’d find near S. Marco. If poor people live there, they’re well-hidden. Walked pretty much the whole central core, the lovely main square, where I sat at an outdoor café and enjoyed the Coronado weather, the university, the 16th century city walls, the duomo, the fish market, the civic center, and lots in between. Skipped the churches and museums. It was too beautiful a day.

Today I began to realize and appreciate how rarely I have time so totally to myself. Nothing I had to do, no place I had to be, nobody I had to please. This is the most independent and frankly, selfish, time I’ve had in over 40 years! And it’s delicious! I love having somebody to do things with and for, but this is sure nice for a once-in-a-while treat.

When I got back, I checked in on the students, and they’re all happy campers. Charlie is making good progress (he was finally convinced to use bigger pieces in some areas) and they’re all joking around. Jeannie from Florida is already on her second one, but her first wasn’t too large or complicated. Suzanne from Canada is making a real work of art. The materials - the smalti - are so gorgeous to begin with I think even I could make something pretty. I’m sorry Charlie didn’t plan to use any gold. This stuff looks like what’s in the basilica at S. Marcos.

He was on a roll and didn’t want to quit, so I went out for take-away pizza and we ate in the breakfast room. Now he’s back in the studio and I’m learning to post my own blogs!

16,570 steps

October 28 Venice & Treviso

October 27 - Venice

Tuesday, October 27 -- Day 23 -- Lovin’ It


Why unload the produce when you can just sell it canalside?

I’ve got to start with the last, while it’s fresh in my mind. We just saw Swan Lake at La Fenice. The Mikhailovsky Ballet from St. Petersburg was fantastic, especially the swan, but the theater was unbelievable! Don’t know what it looked like before the fire, but it is breathtakingly beautiful now. Gold up the ying-yang, cherubs galore, chandeliers, marble, you name it. We sat in the relatively small orchestra section, but the boxes surrounding us must have gone up six or seven levels. It was almost as much fun observing the Italian social mores as it was watching the opera. These people really are classy dressers. I love watching the three generation families. People don’t have children until they’re pretty old (guess they can’t afford to move out and marry) and families we’d look at and wonder “parent or grandparent?” are invariably “parents” because the grandparents are there too! Several little girls doing grande jetes in the aisles, and staying up very late for dinner afterwards, as we did (the dinner , not the leaps). The Italians aren’t having very many children anymore -- and what a pain managing strollers and paraphernalia up and down the stepped bridges and on and off the vaporettos, much less water safety in Venice--but they sure do enjoy and are tolerant of the ones they do have.

Charlie already has a reputation for being “intense” and painstaking. (What else is new?) The women are enjoying teasing him, and he eats it up. His progress is slower than he’d like -- cutting the tiles especially -- but I think he’s enjoying it. He’s learning as much from the other students as from the teachers. They’re working with smalti, which are glass tiles, and they have to be cut with a hammer on a wooden anvil-type thing. The women are complaining of cut fingers and nails.

I decided to walk the Dorsodouro area and I think I covered every last alley. By the time I got to the Academia (my ultimate destination) I was too tired to actually go in the museum, so got on a vaporetto and came back for lunch with some of the gang. Thought I’d go back in the afternoon but was still flagging, so took a vaporetto all the way around the perimeter of the city, just for the ride and to see a different view of the city. It was really the “local” and took a couple of hours. As we neared the end I could see I’d never make it back in time to change and go to The Theater for our big cultural event, so got off thinking I could walk faster. Well, run is more like it, fearing C. would be anxious over my delay. Got back twenty minutes late, huffing and puffing, and found him just emerging from the studio. He was so engrossed, he hadn’t missed me! I didn’t know whether to be annoyed or relieved.

A long and wonderful day!

24,368 steps (many of them running!)

October 26 - Venice

Monday, October 26 -- Day 22 -- We Go Our Separate Ways


Getting started



Another neighborhood canal

The day began with a quirky shower. The shower is just a hand held sprayer attached to the faucets. The tub, or should I say sarcophagus -- very long, very deep, and very narrow -- has no curtain. How do fat people bathe? Anyway, this is not an unusual arrangement in Europe and we are experienced travelers. Yeah, right! So I climb into this vessel, and very carefully wet down with the shower head. What I didn’t know was there was a leak in the hose, so while I’m keeping the spray in the tub, it’s squirting out the other way, all over the place. Got the entire bathroom wet. Otherwise, the place is great.

But things got better. We met all Charlie’s classmates at breakfast. As I predicted there are five women and C. One French, one Welsh, one Canadian, and two from the US (Tenn. And Fla.). Most are quite experienced at mosaics, except for Connie from Tenn., who has never even tried it. After a tour of the foundry, they transferred their designs and got to work. By the time I met up with Charlie at lunch, everyone was well underway. Of course, his was the most ambitious and largest project.

I spent the morning wandering about the Cannaregio section of the city. Had no particular destination, but I realized I was lost when I found myself back on our own canal after an hour and a quarter, thinking I’d been heading in a single direction! Had taken care of some business, getting tickets for the ballet at La Fenice, and La Traviata at a church, doing the banking, and beginning my personal shopper responsibilities. (Got the Fenestil, Amy B., but no cherries, Gayle). It is so beautiful here, it doesn’t matter what I do; I’m just soaking up Venice.

After lunch I went to San Marcos and saw the Basilica. I was stunned at the beauty of the golden mosaics and really had no recollection of being there before. How much one forgets in 44 years. Also saw the Museo Correr -- basically Venetian history and art -- which was a little disappointing. Then on to the Doges Palace; the route for tours is like a rats’ maze, up and down through poorly lit rooms and no way out if you tire before the end! Very impressive, nevertheless. Apparently all of Piazza San Marcos was flooded with the rain last week. I’m so thrilled the weather is glorious now. I haven’t figured out why all the Italians are still wearing heavy coats and scarves; the temps are in the high seventies - low eighties, depending on whether you’re in the sun or the shade.

Got back at 5:30 -- class should have ended by 5 -- but everyone was still hard at work. Relaxed until they broke up (a couple of hours later) and went to dinner with Connie. This is really a great neighborhood -- quiet residential, and a little off from the tourist traffic. There are quite a few restaurants from which to choose and they’re mostly filled with Italian speakers. I hesitate to say locals, because most of the people carrying maps and looking lost are also Italian, so it’s a big tourist mecca for Italian nationals too. In fact the literature says that on any given day there are more visitors than Venetians in Venice and I believe it. Tourism is not only the main industry, it’s the only industry. But somehow it doesn’t bother me here as it did in Rome. Despite the crowds, it’s a much more relaxing place.

22,244 steps (most of them in circles)

Day 21 - To Venice

Sunday, October 25 -- Day 21 -- The Raison d’ Etre


Cannaregio canal right by our B and B

Venice is just as I remembered it. Crowded, dirty, decaying, and absolutely wonderful! Getting here was so much easier than we’d expected. We had Stiven, the young man at the rental car agency in Opatija, drive us in our car to the railroad station in Trieste. Crossing the border from Croatia to Slovenia was a piece of cake, even for him. And since Slovenia is in the European Union, the border stations at the Slovenia - Italy border were closed altogether. (Kinda like the toll booths on the Coronado bridge, but in disrepair.) Door to door service and help with the bags. I could get used to this very easily.

The train ride (at half the price quoted on line in the US) was interesting, along the coast out of Trieste, with lovely views but not very lovely towns (lots of light industry, block apartment buildings) and then further inland but with a view of the snow-capped mountains (Alps?). The towns got nicer along the way, with small vineyards and farms between them. We walked from the station to Domus Orsoni (no thanks to Google which took us to a different place!)

The room is great! It’s a spacious, corner room overlooking a quiet, residential piazzale. I’m writing at a mosaic table. The headboard, end tables, and bathroom are also mosaic (the bathroom gold!) Now if we could just figure out how to turn off the heat (it’s a beautiful day) we’ll be fine. After a short nap we went out to forage for food, no easy thing after 3:00 on a Sunday. Ended up with a take-away wrap from the busy area half-way back to the train. Got the lay of the land in our own neighborhood, went back to unpack, etc. and then went out again to a neighborhood restaurant that wouldn’t serve us earlier. Surprisingly good.

Charlie is as excited as a kid the night before the first day of school. He’s met one of the other students staying here and she’s a very experienced mosaic artist. Should be interesting.

13,021 steps

Day 20 - Istria

Saturday, October 24 -- Day 20 -- Almost Italy

Opatija waterfront

A view of Rovinj

Rovinj harbor

We woke up to sunshine and it stayed that way all day! Today was the day to explore Istria, a peninsula shaped like an inverted triangle in northwest Croatia. At the top it borders a strip of Slovenia, with Italy very close to the north. On the west is the Adriatic Sea, and on the east is the Kvarner Gulf. It’s very hilly, with seaside towns strung out along the coast wherever the hills slope down to allow, and hilltop towns in the interior, and it is Gorgeous with a capital G, everywhere. We could have spent a week here very easily.

We drove over a good bit of it, both coast and interior, spent a few hours in the fishing village cum tourist resort, Rovinj, on the Adriatic (we’re staying on the gulf) and if it weren’t for the signs having too many consonants I’d have sworn we were in Italy. The look and the feel of this part of Croatia are decidedly Italian, probably stemming from the fact that it was once a part of Italy. It’s very green and prosperous looking, with vineyards and tidy farms in the little valleys between the mountains. It has become a major center for truffles (in honor of that I had a mushroom and truffle sauce at dinner) and the cuisine generally has an Italian tilt.

This is very off-season. We think we may be almost the only guests in our hotel and we had the dining room entirely to ourselves at breakfast and dinner. The streets in the evening are fairly deserted. By day, there are the ubiquitous tour buses, but not too many. The town of Opatija, where we are staying reminds me of Monaco. The stately hotels are in the Viennese style but the vegetation is Mediterranean. This region was also once part of the Austro-Hungarian empire and was Eastern Europe’s answer to the French Riviera at the end of the 19th century.

Tomorrow we leave for Italy again so Charlie can begin his course on Monday. The logistics for this particular leg of the trip have changed multiple times, but the latest and I hope final plan is to be driven to Trieste (about 1 ¼ hours) where we’ll take the train straight to Venice. The foundry/studio/bed and breakfast is a short walk from the station. Of all the possible ways to make this trip, this is by far the most cost effective and entails the fewest transfers and schlepping.

P.S. The lobby TV had a broadcast that our ferry, the Marko Polo had run aground today. We thought it strange that they hadn’t even mentioned life rafts, much less had a drill, and wondered if the passengers had a clue what to do. If we had been scheduled for tonight instead of last Saturday, we probably would have missed Croatia!

Errata: I learned today that the Bora from the mountains to the ocean brings dry winds and good weather. The killer is the Jugo which brings the moist air from the Adriatic. That’s what we had all week -- except for Mostar, which is on the other side of the mountains.

Also, the yummy cheese and meat pastries in Bosnia are called burek and they’re considered “fast food.”

13,142 steps

Day 19 - Split to Opatija

Friday, October 23 -- Day 19 -- Trying to Beat the Bora

Ground floor of Diocletian’s Palace

Welcome to Opatija - the view from our hotel room

The Boras are the winds that come down the coastal mountains and blow like crazy. I don’t know if they cause the rain or merely make it impossible to walk in the rain, inverting or ripping umbrellas apart. Thought I’d take off like Mary Poppins for a while there. Charlie’s lovely new orange umbrella sustained some damage but is still functional.

Anyway, yesterday we had deliberately not gone into the indoor stuff when it was possible to do the outdoor walks with only light rain. So today when we had major storms, we went back to the Old Town and went into the “basement” which was really the ground floor substructure of Diocletian’s Palace. The halls and rooms basically follow the original upstairs layout, and it became a little easier to visualize what it looked like in its heyday.

Then upstairs to the Ethnographic Museum, which is new and cleverly built right around the ruins. It’s full of colorful and intricate handmade lace, costumes, jewelry, and furniture of the region. Unfortunately, while they’re beautifully displayed, they are not well marked (in any language) so it was difficult to know when or where they came from. Oh, well, interesting nonetheless.

After lunch we headed north for the Istrian Peninsula. Decided on the superhighway that we took into Split yesterday. Was it only yesterday? So much happens every day, I need this journal to keep track. Knew it would be faster and easier than the coastal road. (Think I-5 instead of Pacific Coast Highway.) So we were back on the mountain ridge, rain alternately pouring or just showering, but with extremely high winds and fog. I thought C. would be wiped out upon arrival in Opatija, but he thought it wasn’t so bad!

We checked into a hotel we’d booked this morning and walked a bit of our block. It was raining and windy. We picnicked in the room, having eaten two big meals today and not really feeling like braving the elements in search of dinner. Bottom line: You can’t beat Mother Nature. The plan is to drive around and stop in as many of the villages in this immediate area as we can tomorrow and leave for Venice on Sunday.

We’ve tried not to let the weather put a damper on our sightseeing, but of course it does limit us to a certain extent. The trip has been fascinating, though wet. Croatia is a beautiful country, with much more to see than we’ve been able to cover. I’d love to come back for a longer visit, but maybe early September or late May. We could still try to beat the summer heat and crowds, but get something closer to summer weather. And the ferries would be running to the islands!

10,556 steps

Day 18 - Mostar to Split

Thursday, October 22 -- Day 18 From Rags to Riches

Iron gate at dusk


Charlie feeling better, but still coughing. It is raining again, but temps in the 60s so I can deal with this. We took a little walk to the mini-mart in our neighborhood to spend our last KM but still ended up with some. Checked out and before splitting for Split took a little driving tour of some of the outer neighborhoods of Mostar. There are some nicer, newer areas that don‘t seem to have been as hard hit by the war. Or maybe they just rebuilt faster.

The route back to Croatia was an easier and even more beautiful drive. The highway runs along the Neretva River due south from Mostar to the Adriatic. It’s curvy and wooded and the fall colors are brighter every day. We never lost sight of the unusual aquamarine water of the river. While the rugged route up took us through the Herzevogina part of the country, and the (mainly Serbian) state of Republika Srpska, this road took us through an anti-Serbian section. At least that’s my impression since every road sign that had place names in both Roman and Cyrillic had the Cyrillic painted over. (Not a very scientific conclusion -- maybe it was just the act of a single kid.) Had lunch just before we came to the border and almost got rid of our money.

They happily take euros in B-H and Croatia, but only give change in their own currency. I made one purchase where they wouldn’t take euro coins, just paper, and I didn’t want to give a large euro paper and end up with all that B-H change. Did some quick math and paid in both euros and KM, but came up .18 KM short (about 14 cents) and the saleswoman laughed and said forget it -- at least I think that’s what she said.

Anyway, once back in Croatia it felt like coming home. Everything is relative. Croatia is a wealthy and clean country next to B-H. As the land got flatter there were orange groves along the river, and one roadside stand after another selling oranges. The signs directed us to Split on a new superhighway that our map showed as under construction. So we took it instead of the coastal route. Well, it went only a few kilometers before the completed part ended and it took us a very circuitous route sort of along the spine of the coastal mountains. We ultimately picked up the completed portion after seeing more gorgeous scenery than we’d intended. This crest was alpine forests through the clouds (and behind the construction equipment). Since it had been raining off and on all day it was a good day to be in the car if you’re a passenger but not so great if you’re driving.

Arrival in Split was exciting, as it always is coming into a strange town. We knew where we wanted to be, even had a map and an address, but of course streets aren’t marked very often, so you never know whether you’re doing it right or not. We did it right! Got a pretty good hotel just outside of the old town, settled in and went out exploring. It was raining lightly off and on, no problem, and we saw Diocletian’s Palace, which was built in the 4th century and taken over by the locals after the fall of the Roman Empire. Buildings were built in all the successive centuries against both the outside and inside walls and within, so it’s a hodge-podge of ramshackle, architecturally disparate parts, with funny little alleys with artists studios and pizza parlors, and upscale hotels and shopping. There’s a Temple of Jupiter made into a Baptistry, Diocletion’s mausoleun made into a church, a ethnographic museum, and souvenir shops galore. There’s also an open-air market right outside of the Palace. And that’s all the sightseeing we had time for.

Went to dinner at a nice little konoba (local ethnic food) and met a young couple from Denmark. Lingered quite a while, chatting. They may turn up in Coronado some day.

Charlie is planning our day tomorrow while I’m writing. It’ll be a surprise. We may stay on another day or just part of the day. There is certainly enough more to see. But as he reads the guidebook, we find there’s more to see up the coast than we have days remaining. We already scratched plans to visit some of the picturesque islands. The ferries don’t run frequently enough -- once there we’d have to stay for days before getting back to the mainland. As much as I hate hot, crowded summer travel, I think the Dalmatian Coast must be a vastly different place in the sunshine. These really are beach towns. Split is a big city, with sprawl and high rises and traffic, but like Santa Monica, maybe, it’s still a beach community.

All told a leisurely and interesting day.

12,870 steps

Day 17 - Mostar

Wednesday, October 21 -- Day 17 Mostly Mostar

One of 10 remaining mosques


War damage with halted reconstruction


Site of future synagogue


Reconstructed Stari Most

Though he coughed all night, Charlie insisted he was up for touring. After a nice breakfast in the cheery breakfast room, which we had to ourselves, we set out. The day was mild and sunny!

We came to Mostar because I thought it had an interesting back story and sounded different than the Croatian coastal towns. So a little background on Mostar (with all due credit to Rick Steves) might fit in here. Bosnia-Herzegovina was originally Slavic, like Croatia. In the 15th century Turks from the Ottoman Empire showed up and many Bosnians were converted to Islam. When the Ottomans were forced out in 1878 it became part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. In the 20th century it became Yugoslavia, under Tito. All this time, the Muslims (called Bosniaks), the Serbs (mostly Eastern Orthodox) and the Croats (Roman Catholics) got along well and Mostar was the poster child for living together in amity.

The blending of the cultures had made Mostar a cosmopolitan little city, with a Turkish flavor. It sits on a plain between two mountain ranges, with a beautiful river running through it. What is now the Stari Grad (Old Town) was pretty much the whole town until after WWII. It became an industrial city during the Communist regime. So the new parts of the city are not very interesting architecturally or historically.

But Yugoslavia started to break up in 1991, when Croatia and Serbia each declared independence. When Bosnia - Herzegovina did the same, it didn’t sit well with the Serbian population of Mostar. When the Serb-dominated Yugoslavian Army came in, the Croats and the Bosniaks (Catholics and Muslims) joined together to fight the Serbs. Before the war was over the Croats and Bosniaks were fighting each other too. No wonder then, that in the early 1990s when Bosnia was so much in the news, I couldn’t tell the good guys from the bad. Now having seen the appalling damage, I still can’t tell.

We did our walking tour in installments because Charlie’s energy flagged late morning. But walk we did.
We started at the Catholic Church, which is brand new. Everything in the center of town is either new since 1995, or reconstructed since 1995, under construction, or a ruin. Most of the “new” construction sites are sitting idle and unfinished. Anyway, the Church has built it’s tower to be higher than the highest minaret. The actual church is just a shell, still unfinished. Right across the street is an empty lot, with menorahs on the fence around it and a sign designating it as the future home of the synagogue. Apparently the Jews acted as mediators between the Catholic Croats and the Muslim Bosniaks, and the city gave the Jews the land. Since there are only a handful of Jews here, that capital campaign may take a while.

From there we went into the Old Town, which has been almost totally reconstructed in the old style. There are still a few shells of buildings, but this is the tourist area, with all the requisite souvenir shops, like a Turkish bazaar I toy with the idea of buying another scarf to replace the one I bought in Assisi and lost in Dubrovnik, but the day is so nice I’m hoping I won’t need one again.

We cross the famous bridge -- once a symbol of bridging the cultures. It was totally destroyed in the war, and rebuilt with UNESCO funds. It was done with the same stone from the same quarry in the same manner of construction as the original, but it took longer in the 21st century than it did in 1557! We saw photos of the Old Town as the 1991 war was progressing and were able to see the incremental damage.

After morning nap we went back to where we left off (the advantage of staying close in) and had lunch. All the restaurants have great views of the river or the tributaries that feed into the river and we ate outdoors on the patio. Not bad. We continued through the old town visiting a mosque (very interesting) and a Turkish home (opened to the public.) We left the cobbled streets for “real life” and visited two Moslem cemeteries. Virtually everyone buried there had died in 1992 -1995. If someone had lived to his mid-forties, he seemed old. Really hit home the toll of war.

We walked down the main street of cafes and shops. No Max Mara and Esprit here. Shops look like 99 Cent stores. Everywhere we’ve been we see people sitting out in cafes, smoking, drinking Turkish coffee, and talking or playing backgammon. Don’t know what the unemployment rate is here, but I’d say pretty high. We come back to our hotel a new route across yet another bridge, rest before dinner, and set out to a place recommended by our B & B manager -- out of the tourist area. It’s almost empty at 7:30 as we found last night. But when we asked if we were too early or too late we were told there just isn’t much business in the off season. We still don’t know when the Bosnians eat. Anyway, in spite of sitting as far away from the few customers there, everyone of them smoked non-stop and I reek of cigarettes smoke. Don’t they know I have only one sweater and I wear it every day (different tee shirt under, however)?

Anyway, Charlie was a really good sport today, in spite of having a full blown (ha, ha) cold.

P.S. CNN TV just showed our guy from the restaurant in Rome standing right next to Berlusconi!

17,130 steps (in three installments)

Day 16 - Dubrovnik to Mostar

Tuesday, October 20 -- Day 16 -- A Tale of Two Cities or A City of Two Tales

C decided to make up for the lack of photos yesterday!

Dubrovnik Franciscon Monastery courtyard from the wall

Dubrovnik Stradun (main drag) - a rare view with few tourists

Our apartment from wall (the top-most three dormer windows on the house with the orange roof. All the bright orange roofs are new -- repaired since the war in the early 1990's)

I'm on wall that is high above and circles the old town of Dubrovnik - lots of steps up

The drive to Mostar - C thinks I made a mistake and we are going to Sarajevo

This was one of those days Charlie and I seemed to be on two different trips.

My story: We had gone to bed last night agreeing that we wouldn’t decide what to do today until we saw how he felt and what kind of night he’d had. We woke up and he felt crappy and had been up a lot. His cough was worse. That meant we would stay on in Dubrovnik for another day or two until he felt better. But no, he didn’t want to stay. He wanted to forge ahead to Mostar.

It was not raining. We got in our long delayed walk around the walls of the Old Town before picking up the rental car. I really felt now I could leave and say I’d seen it.

Made a couple of wrong turns heading out of town, but nothing major. Stopped at the biggest supermarket we’d seen since San Diego and got lots of juice boxes for the patient. Confirmed that we were on the right road to Mostar and crossed into Bosnia-Herzegovina without event. (In fact, when the border guard saw US passports, he didn’t even open them to match our pictures to our faces.) We start to climb rugged mountains with spectacular views of the coast below.

One gets a sense that B-H is very different that Croatia, though the only part of Croatia we’ve seen so far is relatively wealthy and developed thanks to tourism. But the towns here are poor, and everything looks like it’s in a state of decay. Shells of stone buildings may have been rotting for centuries or only since the 1991 war. I couldn’t tell. The mountains get a little more wooded, the fall colors are showier, and now they’re covered in snow. It’s misty, but not really raining, and the snow isn’t melting. The cattle seem one rung lower on the evolutionary chain. They’re a little wilder looking than our domesticated cows. And they roam freely. We nearly hit one when we came around a curve and there he was in the road. And the Cyrillic alphabet freaks me out. I’m trying to read a map with Roman lettering, and the few road signs we find are written in another alphabet!

By the time we arrive in Mostar, I’m pretty proud that we found it. I’ve enjoyed the scenery and my first impression of the country is “Wow! I’m so glad to see this and so glad to live in America!”

Charlie’s story: Bad night. I feel awful. Get me out of this place. She wants to walk the damn walls.
We get the car. It’s a piece of junk. Banged up, sticky gears, and after being on the road awhile I find it gets lousy mileage. She can’t navigate; we’ve never made so many wrong turns, and I’m never sure it’s the right way even when it is. The road is mountainous and wet. I think I have a fever. I know I have a headache. She wants to take pictures and there’s no place to pull off. I need to pee so badly I have to go on the side of the road. I get my shoes wet. She thinks it’s funny. When we do get down this mountain, I want a decent hotel so I can take a nap and maybe stay in tomorrow.

Charlie’s story in his own words: I might have had a headache but I wasn’t delirious. I counted at least 5 instances where we made a wrong turn and in one case drove for many kilometers before deciding we were going in the wrong direction. These mistakes resulted in making dangerous U-turns on roads with no shoulders. So much for the great navigator. Next time I’m taking a GPS.

Their story: We stop at a apoteka (think we’ll know the word for pharmacy in every language before we’re done) and get cough syrup and Tylenol. We find a great B and B on our first try. It even has wi-fi. Charlie sleeps for an hour but doesn’t feel any better. We go out just to grab a bite and luck out at a little cafe that only serves one thing, zeljanica, which is a flakey pastry filled with meat or cheese and they were fabulous. We were in the Muslim quarter over the Stari Most which is the Old Bridge, the symbol of the city.

Home for medicine and (I hope) sleep. Tomorrow I will go sightseeing. We’ll see how Charlie feels.

P.S. Do you think he means a GPS instead of me?

11,429 steps

Day 15 - Dubrovnik

Monday, October 19 -- Day 15 -- Wet and Wild

Spent the morning indoors, warm and cozy, watching the rain, now flecked with a few snowflakes, and listening to the wind. It occurred to us that we’re flexible until the 25th and we’d never discussed a Plan B. We went online to check out weather and airfares to sunnier climes (like Athens or Barcelona) but couldn’t make it happen. So we decided we’d more or less follow the original plan, but not knock ourselves out.

We went out for lunch -- a good one -- and since the rain had stopped, set out for the city walls. We hadn’t gone very far when it started to pour again. There are several churches and small museums we could have ducked into, but none of particular interest to us. The thing about Dubrovnik (we convinced ourselves) is the gestalt of the Old Town and not really the specifics. And we did have a feel for the place which made it O.K. to go home and make a cup of tea and enjoy our view. I’d finished my book this morning, so we played Rummicube. We brought two decks of cards for just such an event and they double for the tiles and for card games.

Charlie is coming down with a cold and feeling low. We reconsidered plans yet again and thought we’d turn the car in early, skip some of the small beach towns and take the ferry to Venice. But it seems those ferries run only in the summer and you can’t get to Venice from Croatia by ferry at any other time. So we’re considering Plan C or D; I’ve lost track. Anyway, we’ve put a decision off another day. We’ll see how he feels and maybe stay longer here or pick up the rental car and head for Mostar, Bosnia. Or not.

Meanwhile we got in another short walk and picked up bagels (or something that looks very much like them) for breakfast before the rain started again. By the time we went out for dinner it was fairly dry. Stopped for some throat lozenges and after dinner (and 2 glasses of wine) things seem a bit improved.

Tomorrow is another day.

7,002 steps

Day 14 - Dubrovnik

Connie at entrance to synagogue and C's orange umbrella (he can't snap shots and hold umbrella at the same time)


The view from our apartment


Sunday -- October 18 -- Day 14 We’re Not in Kansas Anymore

We were awakened before 6 a.m. with a knock on the door. Breakfast was being served before docking in Dubrovnik. Wasn’t bad except for the hour. It was raining. The dock isn’t far from the edge of the Old Town so it was a short ride to the gate, but no cars (and they really mean NO Vehicles) are permitted inside so we had to walk with our bags through a pretty steady rain to our apartment. The town is quite steep, which I knew, and I took special pains to get us a place on the South (ocean) side of town, to avoid the stairs up the mountainside. We had good directions, though as in Italy, directions don’t help too much when the streets aren’t marked by name. Had our landlady, Renata, not been hanging out the window calling my name, we wouldn’t have known we’d arrived. What she hadn’t told me is that there were two flights of steps to get into her house and two more inside to our apartment! But her husband helped with the bags, and we’re o.k. without luggage.

The place is funky and cute. Lots of potted plants, dormer windows in the bedroom, not quite even floors, only a one burner (that works) stove, a nice new-ish bathroom, and an absolutely incredible view of the marina and town. We dump our stuff, put on dry clothes, check our email (did I mention wi-fi?) and head out to look around.

Charlie had never found the hat he wanted and now a head covering is urgent. It is raining hard, with a blustery wind, and it’s bitterly cold. We’re layered. I need more socks. So we go shopping. The main street is filled with tourists, all carrying umbrellas, all going in and out of the shops, and it’s a madhouse. He buys a big orange umbrella. He could be a tour guide holding it up to be seen. The shops have straw hats and cutesy baseball caps, and he’s particular. And no socks. After an hour I convince him to buy something, anything, even if he overpays and never wears it again. He settles on a (overpriced) ski cap (tuke, for those North of 54’40 latitude). Now he looks like a local fisherman. But no socks.

We meet our group for a walking (are we crazy or what?) tour of Jewish Dubrovnik. Amazingly, there’s a large group. We head straight for the synagogue and he does his whole bit inside. There’s very little to see besides the synagogue anyway. There are only 45 Jews (6 or 7 families), no minyan, and they have services only on the High Holidays with a rabbi imported from New York. To hear this (catholic) young man’s history, one would think there was no such thing as anti-Semitism until the Nazis came. From what we’ve read it wasn’t quite that rosy, but Jews did experience relative freedom through the middle ages and the Renaissance. Anyway, the synagogue suffered a lot of damage during the 1991 war. The torah from the 13th or 14th century was sent to N.Y. for safekeeping and then the Croats had trouble getting it back. But back it is, and on display.

We had lunch afterwards with some Australian Jews we met on the tour. They gave us some travel tips, since they’d just come from the north and been to many of the places we intend to visit.

The Old City is so small -- about 5 minutes walk from one end to the other -- we went home to get warm and dry. Warm is relative -- the wind rattles the windows, so they’re not airtight -- but we have a space heater in the bedroom. We napped -- still recovering from our very short night on the ferry. Still raining when we woke up and went out again, but the tourists were all gone. Many were from the cruise ships (we could tell by the logos on the umbrellas provided by the ships). Still no socks. So we went to the tourist info and asked where the locals shop and it turned out to be a short bus ride to a small “mall.” Success! And so quickly and easily we could make the round trip on the one ticket.

All the guidebooks say to begin one’s visit by walking the perimeter of the city’s walls. But I demur, citing the weather. The wind is so fierce it’s inverting my small umbrella. I’m afraid we’ll get blown off. So we wander some more, go home to get dry and warm, and then go out to dinner. When in Dubrovnik you’re expected to have seafood. So I order prawns. I fully expect them to be in the shell, with their heads on, but I don’t expect them to be smaller than our cocktail sized shrimp. Never have I worked so hard for so little return. Oh well, I felt justified in ordering dessert -- which was a fabulous nut cake.

Home to blog and to bed.
P.S. Despite the weather, we’re friends again.

10,051 wet steps

Day 13 - On the Road to Bari

Climbing up to Spello

Saturday, October 17 -- Day 13 -- On the Road Again

We had such a great time in Umbria, we seriously considered staying on and skipping Croatia, but decided to go on as planned. It’s a long drive from Assisi to Bari! Stopped at Spello, just a few km down the road. Really steep, really quaint, glad we saw it, but glad we decided to go on. Think we’ve pretty much seen Umbria.

The first couple of hours were over the mountains. There is no main highway and Charlie lost confidence in his navigator, certain that we were heading the wrong way. (Minor roads aren’t very well marked.) We stopped to ask a worker alongside the road, and he confirmed we were on the right one. You know how being together 24/7 can get to you? Well this was the day. It’s a beautiful drive, just starting to look like fall, with a little color. Had a picnic along the way. Ran into some rain, off and on all day. We hit the Adriatic coast at which point its super highway all the way, but it’s long, especially in the rain. Arriving in Bari was tense, though we found the car return without problem. But then the trouble began. We knew they’d be closed on Saturday evening, but we were told to park the car and leave the key in a lock box. The plan was to walk from there to the ferry. But there was no lock box and no place to leave the car. So much for the plan. We had to drive to the airport, for which we did not have directions, and it was poorly marked. By the time we got there we were nervous about making it back in time for the ferry. (We were off 2 hrs. in our calculations. 22:00 is not 8:00 but 10:00.) Then we had to take a cab back to the port. Tempers, tempers! Of course we had plenty of time to spare and then the ferry was delayed so we had to hang around for hours. Picture a Greyhound Terminal, filled with truckers! By now we’re asking ourselves why we didn’t fly when we learned we’d have to give up one car and get another in Croatia. Funny how plans have a life of their own. Once underway, its hard to shift gears. We had talked ferry, so ferry is what we did. I said we’d do better next time, but Charlie said “What next time?” Know he’ll feel better in a day or two.

By the time we board and get to our room (not the QE2, think train berth) it’s past midnight. Good thing we’re in separate berths. I’m sure things will look better in the daylight.

7,863 -- except for Spello, we were in the car all day

Day 11 - Rest; Day 12 - Deruta and Orvieto

Cathederal at Orvieto


Our farmhouse for a week


Connie with purchases at Deruta


Thursday, October 15 -- Day 11 -- Day of Rest
Took the day off. Freezing this morning -- so unseasonal there was no scraper in the car and C. used a kitchen spatula. Hung around the farm and the local town of Rivortorto. Charlie roasted his chestnuts in and outdoor fireplace and shared them with Paolo and Luigi, the handyman. Nothing much to report.

Friday, October 16 -- Day 12 -- Making Up For Lost Time
Went off to Deruta to pick up our order. Since it was a lovely day we went to the centro on the top. The town was filled with pottery shops but it looked like a ghost town it was so deserted. Saw a wonderful ceramics museum, which we had entirely to ourselves. It demonstrated how they cleaned and restored the shards from the local ruins, and displayed an extraordinary amount of stuff found in the area from centuries BCE to the present. They also showed how they made it then, and now, and it’s basically the same way. Learned that a plate we had just purchased was in the “grotesque” style from the 17th century.

When everything started to close in the afternoon, we were on the road again, toward Orvieto. Have finally learned to schedule travel time for the hours when everything is shut down. Orvieto is a little bit bigger, and had more of the feel of a real place, where people actually live. The main church here is hands down my favorite of all we’ve seen. Except for a very ornate façade, it is quite simple, with the sides striped in the gray and white stone that makes me think of Ucello. Not a lot of side chapels. And best of all, we were fortunate to time our visit for a wedding. There was an organ and a soprano for the ceremony and the acoustics were incredible and this girl had a gorgeous voice. She sang in English and Italian, and the ceremony was bilingual, so I guess one of the couple was an English speaker.

In Orvieto we went to the archeological museum (2 museums in one day!) and learned that the Greeks‘ ceramics had traveled to the Etruscans, so some of the stuff dug up was Etruscan in the Greek style and some of the stuff was really Greek -- and the Greeks changed their style for the Etruscan market! Really makes me feel that what passes for history in the Americas is so recent. Even if we look at the native cultures before the Europeans, it was pretty primitive. We’ve stayed in places that are older than any building in the Americas.

Strolled the town’s streets and went into the caves that were discovered under a local restaurant. The cistern that had been dug around 700 - 500 BCE was only recently discovered when a little trattoria tried to expand. Needless to say, he couldn’t do his expansion, but he’s (with the help of the district) created a little museum, and they’re raking it in at 3 euros a pop. Those Etruscans were busy guys.

Came back for dinner in Assisi. We discovered the back road by just following our street from the farm (its only 4 or 5 km) so we were pretty proud of ourselves. Had a great dinner at La Fortezza. And took our short-cut home.

16,042 steps

Day 10 - Gubbio

Day 10 -- Wednesday, October 14 -- The Frost is on the Pumpkin (or should I say zucca?)



Temps dropped overnight and today was our first chilly day. But as sunny and beautiful as yesterday. Paolo arrived with a huge sack of chestnuts for Charlie, and the special pan to use on the grill to cook them. Gubbio was today’s destination, but with a late start (we need to get serious about getting going in the morning) and a longer than usual drive, it was nearly time for riposo (siesta, when everything closes up for 2 - 3 hrs.) when we arrived. We had taken country roads a good bit of the way and getting there was indeed half the fun. The hilly countryside is twelve different shades of green with the characteristic buff or grey villages spotted every few kilometers. We climbed pretty high and much was forested.

Gubbio sits near the bottom of its mountainside and is stretched out lengthwise along the base, so though it’s still uphill from arrival to the top we took the long streets crosswise and climbed gradually, switching back and forth, sort of traversing. It has its own character, with wide streets (that is, room for a row of parked cars and a lane of moving traffic as long as the pedestrians step into a doorway for passing cars). There are still steep steps up walkways, but fewer of them. And not so many flower pots. Really a pretty plain visage with a sort of utilitarian look about it. Very quiet, few people about, maybe it was just the time of day.

Gubbio has had a relatively peaceful history, unlike gory Perugia, but probably one of the longer local histories because Iron Age artifacts have been found a the bottom of the hill. The Etruscans followed, moving up the hill a little, and the Romans followed, starting to climb. There is an interesting Roman amphitheater, still used for summer productions and a small “antiquarium” we went into. It’s built right over the Roman ruins and you walk on iron grates and can see the stones that remain. They’ve done some restoration on mosaic floors, a mini-Pompeii.

We had another superb midday meal -- another Frommer recommendation, and again with mostly locals eating there. They comped us (and I assume, everyone) the local starter, a fry-bread with proscuitto on top.
I wish I could remember the name for it. It started with a b-- but isn’t bruschetta.

We stopped at Assisi on the way back to pick up Charlie’s eyeglass case and the proprietor/craftsman greeted Carlo and “the lady” (me!) like long lost buddies. It looks like any other black leather case, but is small enough that his clip-ons don’t slide out. He’s pleased with it. I bought a scarf for the cold. The other reason for stopping there is that it has a café that’s the closest wi-fi spot in this area. So we caught up on email and posted yesterday’s blog. While in Assisi we tried the lower basilica of San Francesco, which we hadn’t been able to see the other day because they were having a mass. It’s very dark inside and one really can’t see the frescoes very well, so I was left unimpressed again. The town, however looked entirely different without the mobs, so I guess many of them were Italians out for a Sunday drive. Or church.

Coming down the mountain in the dark we must’ve made a wrong turn and even though it became clear we needed to turn around there was no opportunity to do it. So we kept going for a while, until my Carlo, the newly Italian driver decided to turn around anyway on a very curvy narrow road with almost no visibility and no shoulder. I just held my breath and kept my eyes closed. A very pleasant and low key day, in spite of that little drama.

Started the laundry (this little machine takes 1½ hours to run!) and had leftover pasta for supper. But when C. went to roast his chestnuts, he found the fire starter didn’t work! And so to bed sans chestnuts.

12,103 steps

Day 9 - Perugia and Rasiglia

Day 9 -- October 13 -- Perugia and Rasiglia

Awoke to a real fall day. Clear and bright, but nippy. Then off to the big city. Charlie must be getting confident as a driver, because he did a couple of very Italian maneuvers. By Umbrian standards, Perugia, the capital of the region, is large. It has a major university and a well-known college for international students studying Italian. And it has the feel of a city, rather than the towns we’ve been seeing. Although perched on a hilltop, as they all are, this one has a series of escalators on several sides and coming up from the parking area we came through some underground vaulted brick tunnels. It isn’t quaint or particularly charming, but it feels “real” and not like a tourist attraction.

We spent time in the National Gallery of Umbria, an “important” regional art museum. The collection has a checkered history, as does the town. Far more sacred art than I’m generally interested in, but the arrangement in chronological order over 5 centuries did help me appreciate the changes of perspective and how figures became more vivacious and naturalistic as the Renaissance progressed. We could even tell when oil paints started taking the place of tempera as the colors became more vibrant. And (finally!) secular work -- landscapes and portraits. There are only so many crucifixes and virgins one can see, regardless of how much gilt they’re dressed up in.

Also visited the Exchange Guild and Merchants’ Guild. The former was frescoed by Perugino, before 1500. The latter has been a charitable institution since 1390 and still is! We walked the main promenade, filled with cafes and upscale shops. And then out toward the edge of the downtown.

One of the highlights was a purchase (and consumption) of chocolate -- chocolate is to Perugia what ceramics are to Deruta. Unfortunately, we’ll miss the world chocolate expo next week.

Came home late afternoon for our “date” with Paolo and Luciana Tonti, our hosts. He escorted us up the mountain to the village of Rasiglia (pop.34), his ancestral home. Once there we saw a video of the generations-old regional art of weaving and Luciana gave a demonstration on a 100+ year old loom. We each got a turn to try. It’s one of those things that looks much easier than it turns out to be. She had several old looms, and the work is beautiful. We realized that the coverlet on our bed here was made by her hand -- and must have taken months to create. Only she and one other woman can still do this. They have three grown daughters, but only one has shown an interest, and since she lives in Milan mom hasn’t had much opportunity to pass the skill on to her.

Then they offered a “light” buffet. And here is the NEWS! Charlie ate eggs! She’d made a vegetable quiche, and served us. I thought he’d just push it around his plate to be polite, but he actually ate it! Then (maybe it was the wine) he asked for seconds! He couldn’t have been hungry, because there were sausages grilled in the fireplace, bruschetta (made with their own olive oil), cheese from a local farmer, some other cured meat, bread, and then dessert. Then chestnuts roasted on an open fire ..la, la,(could they have known they’re one of his favorites?). They could not have been more hospitable and charming. His English is much better than hers, but heavily accented. We all managed to have a pretty lively conversation.

Back down the mountain and home.

12,444 steps

Day 8 - Todi

Day 8 -- October 12 -- Todi Today

We got our typical early start (sometime after 10). I sure love the solid wooden shutters on Italian windows. Whenever we wake up, it’s so dark we just roll over and go back to sleep. The plan was to visit Deruta (home of the majolica ceramics industry) and Todi, the quintessential hill town, both across the valley to the west. But not until after a leisurely breakfast and a greeting to the handyman who was washing our windows and refinishing some window frames.

We’ve got the route through Rivotorto to the highway down pat and the rest would be easy. I know, those are famous last words, but in fact, it was. Deruta is just one small factory after another, most producing the classic old designs, the lemons, the sunflowers, and a few with more modern designs. We visited one factory and watched the women painting the bisque ware. We checked out many, many other showrooms, and found they must have colluded on the pricing, since there were no bargains to be found. However that didn’t stop us from buying! I found a candle stick I liked, but they had only one and I needed two for Shabbat. Again there was an offer to give them three days and they’d copy the one. So we’ll go back to Deruta too. All this before going up the hill to the old town. It had begun to rain by the time we spent our wad, so we moved on to Todi without walking the city centro. Maybe on our pick-up trip.

Parking outside the wall, wewalked straight up to the main piazza. I can’t imagine having done this before my pacemaker. Todi is easy to visit. Few tourists, (at least no busloads of them), no “must see” buildings or art works. It has an ancient history -- back to the Iron Age, through the Umbri and Etruscans, but since little remains to be seen of that, we were relieved of any obligations to edify ourselves. The city is strictly Middle Ages, with consistent Gothic and Romanesque architecture, not the hodge-podge seen in other towns.

We had an absolutely fabulous lunch -- hands down the best meal of this trip. If any of you are ever out this way, remember the Umbria, right off of the Piazza Populo! Some days (like this one) we eat our big meal midday and then just have bread and cheese and fruit for dinner at home. Other days we have a pizza or Panini for lunch and then a bigger dinner. While wandering about the city, looking for a wi-fi spot, it began to storm. Of course our jackets and umbrellas were back in the olive grove. The wind was so fierce that potted trees were knocked over and city trash cans were rolling in the streets. (A particular shame, since this was such a clean town.) By the time we ducked into a café we were pretty well soaked but we had lots of company with the same idea. We waited it out and when it slacked off we ran down (thank g-d down) the hill to the car. A rather abrupt end to our day. See, if they had a museum of note we’d have stayed longer. That’s the usual rainy day plan.

Stopped at the produce market and here we are, all cozy on the farm.

10,469 steps ( before being called on account of rain)

Day 7 - Assisi

Day 7 October 11 -- Shifting Gears



Spent a leisurely morning on the farm. Went out in my p.j.s to check the weather (hazy) and enjoy the views of the valley one way and Assisi the other. The fog started to burn off mid-morning. Apparently this is typical. We made the short drive to Assisi and parked outside the wall (no traffic inside, except for taxis, delivering or picking up bags at the hotels, handicapped, residents, etc. -- but who’d want to drive in there anyway?) and started to walk. We’ve seen hill towns in Tuscany, but with the possible exception of Cortona, this must be one of the steepest. You can go to the top to park and walk down to the walls or park at the bottom and walk up to the walls, but either way you not only eventually have to return to the car, but go up and down and up and down within the walls.

The town is absolutely beautiful. Every one of these towns has an old center (old as in middle ages) and a “new” part (as in Renaissance). In this case the old was built on an ancient Roman site, and the original amphitheater has homes built right into the ruins. The local limestone is pinkish in color and the streets are paved with slate and this pink stone. (No cobblestones!) There was an earthquake in 1997 and they say much has been rebuilt, but we couldn’t tell the really new from the ancient, the old, or the so-called “new.”

The views to the south are of the only plain in Umbria, mostly farmland, dotted with villages, and to the north is a mountainous national park. Farther up the mountain on which Assisi is perched are the remains of a huge old castle (Rocca Maggiore) at one end of town and a merely big old castle (Rocca Minore, of course) at the other end. The streets are narrow (a given) and twisting (also given), and often open onto a piazza or a spectacular view. People have beautiful gardens, all in pots.

We had planned just to soak up the charm and avoid the “must see” spots since they were mostly churches. There are as many churches in the town as souvenir shops, which is to say a lot. But no, Charlie wanted to go into the Church of St. Clare, so in we went. Frankly, I felt like an imposter. Most of the tourists seemed to make this visit as a pilgrimage, and were there to do some serious praying. We got out pretty quickly, without seeing her crypt or relics. Of course, it is Sunday, and many of visitors were Italian. They may have just been going to church, and not tourists at all.

Since we’d come this far we had to see the Giottos in the Basilica of St. Francis. I remembered from my sophomore Art History class how important he was -- the first of the Renaissance painters. And the tour books (of which we found plenty in our apartment) describe exactly why. I’ll spare you the lesson, but just note that I was disappointed. The frescoes had been recently restored (post-earthquake) and that famous blue was there, but they just left me flat. There’s a pun in there somewhere.

So it turned out that we enjoyed the day apart from the major sights. There were lots of Franciscan monks in town (no surprise), but so many that I wonder if this is the only place they train or get assigned or if they all need to make a pilgrimage to be ordained. Will put it on my list of questions for Paolo, our host. Got a kick out of their traditional brown garb with rope belts but Birkenstocks or Tevas on their feet. I guess sandals are sandals.

We spent some time in a café with a wi-fi connection and read our email and we were able to post the last blog. And ate, of course. Our pace is starting to match the Italians with long, leisurely meals. Why aren’t they all fat?

Walking back to the car Charlie popped into another leather goods shop in search of the elusive eyeglass case. The artisan didn’t have one but said he could make one up in a couple of days, traced the outline, (one of the criteria was that it be very small) and we promised to return.

14,200 steps (most of them vertical)

Italy, Fall 2009 - Days 5 & 6

Day 5, Friday October 9 -- A Walk in the Park


Got a slow start today while we messed with blogging. Our reservation at the Galley Borghese wasn’t until 1:00. The Gallery is in the Borghese villa in a huge public park -- a la Balboa Park or Central Park. Took the metro -- we’re getting to be pros -- to Barberini Piazza and walked up the Via Veneto to the gardens. The Via Veneto is home to the four and five star hotels, the U.S. embassy, and more upscale shopping and restaurants. This is how the other half lives, probably on expense accounts.

Once at the park, we found the gallery with no problem and immediately broke our resolution to forego audio tours. This is an outstanding collection of everything -- from Greek and Roman antiquities through the Renaissance. Cardinal Borghese, the collector, had some favorites, among them Gian Lorenzo Bernini and Carravagio. Bernini’s statue of Apollo and Daphne was so breathtaking I got tears in my eyes. We went back for a second viewing before leaving. This alone was worth the price of admission -- Charlie says this alone was worth the trip!

Famished by the time our 2 hour appointment slot was over, we followed the signs in the park to a café. It turned out to be in another museum -- Modern Art, never my favorite -- but we had had our quota of culture, so we just had lunch. And nothing could top the Bernini. So we continued out the other side of the park to the Piazza Populo, making our way through yet another part of town toward Vatican City and home. I really feel that by walking (and reading maps) we’ve had a little better sense of the city, and we have covered the ancient center and surrounding areas pretty well. Rome is pretty chaotic, pretty dirty, pretty noisy, and just plain pretty. It’s not for the faint of heart.

Had intended to stop at the Castel Sant’ Angelo -- after all, this is where Tosca leapt to her death -- but by the time we got there it was too late. Wandered through the Mercato Andrea Doria, a flea market with schlock stuff, but fun. Then back to Andrea Doria 79. We bought a loaf of fresh bread -- knew we were too tired to go out to dinner and wanted to finish the odds and ends in the fridge before leaving tomorrow.

I had done laundry last night and hung the clothes out to dry on our clothes line, which extends the length of the balcony beyond the railing. Clipped everything very securely, because if it fell off it would land in our neighbor’s garden, two flights down. I had put some shirts on hangers, and just hung the hangers on the line. Well, in taking in the clothes this evening, I was short one shirt. I went downstairs to meet the (non-English-speaking) neighbors in search of it. Started at the bottom and that lady knew what I wanted before I asked. She had pantomimed shirt before I did! But no, she hadn’t seen my shirt, I should go upstairs to ask the lady on the second floor. Something was fishy. But I went to the lady on the second floor, and she hadn’t seen it either, and the message was I should try downstairs. OK, it was only a Chico’s tee, which I buy in multiples, so I gave up. About ten minutes later, second floor lady comes to our door. She found the shirt! We’ll never know the real story. But that’s the fun of apartment rentals over hotels. I got to see the inside of a couple of homes!

Tomorrow it’s Arrivederci Roma. We left lots “undone” saving for another trip, but next time it’ll be off-season.

20,518 steps


Day 6, Saturday October 10 -- On the road

We were awakened in the middle of the night by thunderstorms and lightning, and awoke to find it still raining. Can’t complain though, the weather up to now has been perfect -- like the best of Coronado. By 9 am it had started to clear. Charlie had arranged to pick up our car as far away from center of Rome as possible, and in the direction of Umbria, so he would need to drive as little as possible in the city. However, that required getting to the car rental location with our bags. To avoid being ripped-off again by a Rome taxi, he asked our good buddy Enrico to take us to the pick-up location as a means of making up for the fact that we had to move during our stay in Rome. Of course he refused, and of course we had no bargaining power, but he did agree to arrange for a fixed-price cab ride from apartment number 2 to pick-up the rental car. He said it would cost 30 euros, and based on what we paid to get from the train station to apartment number 1, we thought that was a good deal. (Isn’t is amazing how circumstances can make you think paying $45 for a cab ride is “good.” )

Alessandro, our cab driver, showed up promptly at 11 -- in a Prius! It was the first we’d seen in Rome.

The strategy worked. We got our Opel. We had figured out the rules of the road in Italy: the bigger the vehicle the more “right of way” you have and if there is room for your car, it’s a lane. By this standard, we had the right of way over Smart cars (of which there are many) and not much else. It was an easy drive to the route A90, the beltway around Rome, and we were on our way to Assisi. It didn’t hurt that he was driving with a superb navigator. Our Google directions said the trip to Agriturismo Villa Rosy, the apartment we had rented in a farm house on an olive grove outside of Assisi, would take a little over 2 hours. We made lunch and coffee stops along the way, so the trip actually took about 4 hours. The directions provided by our hosts were very good, and we were greeted by the owner as we entered the gates of the grove.


The “farm house” is a stone building containing four rental apartments, surrounded by olive and fruit trees. We were shown into a lovely, spacious apartment - just like we had seen on the internet (there is a g_d). They had a little welcome package with fresh home-made coffee cake, home-made jam, coffee, eggs, a bottle of wine, and a bottle of their own award winning olive oil. The place is well equipped and clean -- everything apartment #1 wasn’t. The view of Assisi -- we’re about 5 km out of town -- is beautiful. Since we are the only ones here it is quiet. We headed to our local village (within walking distance, but we drove to pick up provisions), where we found a super mercato, pharmacy, produce store, several places to eat, and not much else.
After studying the ample tourist literature in the apartment over our happy hour, we made tentative plans for the week. We’ll try to visit a different town each day, but I think the pace will be less frenetic this week. Sunday isn’t a great day for finding things open, so I‘m sure we‘ll find time for a stroll around the “farm”.


Dinner back in town at a very popular fish/pizza (how’s that for a combo?) place. Good eats.


7,549 steps (uh-oh, no gelato)

Italy, Fall 2009 - Days 1 - 4

Day 1, Sunday/Monday, October 4/5 -- Rough Start

On Saturday afternoon we received an email from the manager of our Rome apartment -- so sorry but the last occupants had “vandalized” the unit and we couldn’t use it until the plumbing was repaired, but he just happened to have another apartment he’d let us have for the same rate. We smelled “bait and switch” but he had us over a barrel, so we simply asked for additional info about substitute apt. Meanwhile we checked out the new one and it rented for 20 euros per night less than our contracted one. How nice of him to let us have it for the “same rate.“ He wrote back that we could stay for three nights in the original, but then move to the second. Now we were certain we were being messed with and didn’t agree to the move but decided to deal with it upon arrival. And so our saga began.

I arranged for a taxi to pick us up at 4:55 a.m. Sunday. I awoke at 4:52, and panicked, thinking the alarm hadn’t gone off. We ran around like idiots getting ready and then the alarm rang. With that time in my head, I had set the clock for pick-up time. And then the phone rang. The cabbie was on time! We actually got out of the house by 5:07. And that is how an obsessive compulsive happened to leave her bed unmade for four whole weeks.

We grabbed the arriving newspapers on our way out the door, made it to the airport and found incredibly long lines at security. Ever the multi-tasker, I went through the papers, discarding the ads, Sports, and other junk we were unlikely to read. Finally got through my personal pat down with minutes to spare. Charlie went off to find coffee while I went to the ladies room to finish my toilette.

By the time we got on the plane, Charlie was almost speaking to me (though not a happy camper) and I had newsprint all over my shirt and coffee on my jeans. Oh well, I only needed to wear these clothes for the next 24 hours.

Believe it or not, the flight was uneventful. Made it through customs, got cash from the fourth ATM we tried, and got on an express train to town with hardly a wait. We had checked prices on line and thought we’d save about 25 euros by doing this instead of a limo/shuttle. Caught a taxi immediately. And thence our first Roman rip-off. We spent 37 euros for what the online taxi calculator said should cost 7 -- more than the limo would have been. I’m starting to understand why people take tours.

So sleep deprived and angry we meet Enrico, our apartment manager. Disappointed would be putting it mildly. The place was a dump. He gave us the song and dance about the plumber coming on Thursday, but the shower works for now. He promised to take us to see the new place and to move us there in his car. Meanwhile he sent us out to kill time while they cleaned up. I’m already thinking maybe moving won’t be so bad. Our deposit was only one night’s worth and he hadn’t asked for the rest yet. The apartment is located right off the Campo del Fiori in the old part of town. So I guess when he said it was renovated and was modern, he meant renovated in the 19th century. Anyway, the campo is the flower market by day and a happening place of wine bars and loud bands at night. Do you see where this is going?


One piazza over we discovered a sukkah, swarming with more security, both private and police, than Chabad Lubavitchers in their holiday best. We nurse a panini and watch the crowds. We doze on a stone bench. And then we go back to our apartment. It looks presentable. We nap. The world looks better. We shower. The drain doesn’t empty and the tiny pan fills up. We take Navy showers and believe the story about the plumbing. Freshened and feeling a little less taken advantage of, we go in search of a super mercato and discover the charm of the neighborhood. Our street has small shops and galleries with apartments above.

Finally, I’m remembering why we like to travel. We ate in a lovely little osteria on a pedestrian side street in a vine covered patio. The food was unexceptional but the ambiance was pure Italy. We strolled through the Piazza Navona, and listened to a young people’s concert. I think it was an evangelical mission group, but since we couldn’t understand it anyway, we just enjoyed the enthusiasm and energy.

By the time we fell into bed, we didn’t even mind the noise from the bars and street bands. That is, until 2:00 a.m. when the after parties began. We were awakened by a drum that had to be in the apartment next door. It kept up until 5:00 when the trucks started delivering the flowers and other tchotzkes for the market. We drag ourselves out of bed, Charlie goes out for fresh bread for breakfast, and we decide that unless the next place is worse, we’re going to agree to move.

Day 2, Tues, October 6 -- Serious Tourism

Did I mention it’s really hot? Decided to do the obligatory Rome, so we started with the ancient ruins. We walked through a business and commercial center to the Piazza Venezia and Victor Emmanuel Monument. Decided not to climb the stairs (many, many, of them, a la Rocky at the Philadelphia. Museum of Art), but still walked up quite a few to the Campidoglio, which is Italy’s capitol hill. Enjoyed the view of the ruins of the ancient forum below, and then went down for an up close and personal view. Spent hours there, walking in the heat and dust, along with thousands of other tourists. It’s very hard for me to contemplate the impressive history and engineering feats of the ancient Romans when surrounded by so many sweaty people. Don’t they know the world economy is hurting and they were supposed to take their holidays in August, anyway? Most of the travelers are European and Asian. Always some Americans, but relatively few compared to other years.



But onward to the Colosseum. Much more of this ruin is standing, hence it’s easier to visualize it in its day. These ancient Romans really knew how to build! I hadn’t realized there was a maze of rooms under the wooden floor of the stadium and the gladiators fights took place on dirt covering that floor. Nor did I know there were dozens of fights daily, every day, man v. man, man v. animal, animal v. animal. See how educational travel can be? Nor did I know that Charleton Heston didn’t race in the Colosseum, but in the Circus Maximus next door.




Before heading home, we went up the Palatine Hill. Though the ruins are scant leaving much to the imagination, there is an incredible view of the city in one direction and the Forum below in the other. We went back down the hill through the ruins of the forum, seeing a different part. By the time we headed for home we had made some tactical decisions. We would eschew crowds, even if it meant missing attractions. We would always carry water rather than buying at tourist stands at 2 euro a pop. We would not wait until day 4 to move, but would do it tomorrow. We would pass on audiotours (TMI on the Forum). We would even pass on museums unless there was something extremely compelling. Maybe we’re Philistines, but just walking around and getting a feel for how the Romans live is more interesting to us than braving the crowds at the “must see” sights.

Had seen a restaurant in Piazza Navona that advertised free wi-fi, and since the wi-fi connection promised at the apartment was only occasionally strong enough to actually get on line, we headed over there for dinner. Despite the fact that the connection there wasn’t much better (is it us or is it that we Mac users just can’t adjust to Microsoft?), despite the fact that the waiter bumped into me and jammed my arm into my chair hard enough to create a bruise complete with blood, and despite the fact that we knew it was a tourist trap in a touristy area, the meal turned out to be delicious. (P.S. He didn’t even comp us anything, but he did offer an ice bag for my arm.)

Again exhausted, we headed home. Again the bands could be heard, but didn’t keep us awake. Again the drummer began (at midnight tonight). We are so outta here. (But I thought of you, Matt and Sage. This is a happening place. You’d love this area. It just isn’t happening for us!)

Walked 20,379 steps on my pedometer = 6.2 miles = one gelato

Day 3, Wednesday, October 7 -- The Move

Exhausted and more than a little resentful that we had to plan our day around seeing the new apartment, we set off for the Ghetto. This was just reconnaissance because we knew we wouldn’t have time to see too much before meeting Enrico. The actual ghetto was totally destroyed in the late 18th century, and the new synagogue began its Capital Campaign then. It took 30 years to raise the funds -- after all, these were poor people and it took a generation of freedom to make the down payment. We signed up for a walking tour and went back to meet our good friend Enrico, who couldn’t actually pick us up where we were because he didn’t have a permit to drive in the ancient city.

Well, the new apartment is absolutely great! I had seen it on line and rejected it for being too far away from the center of things. Far from the center is Good! It is modern, clean, everything works, and it turns out that just north of the Vatican isn’t so far from things. The neighborhood is new (that is late 19th century) with broad tree-lined sidewalks, commercial on the ground floors and apartment complexes behind entry gates. It kind of reminds me of Paris. We negotiated a deal -- for our inconvenience -- and arranged for him to pick us up with our stuff that evening. He dropped us right across the Tiber from the ghetto and we took our walking tour, saw the museum, and visited the synagogue. As in Venice, the Jews were permitted only one synagogue, so they combined five congregations into the Cinque Scolare. The new building actually incorporates two of them today, and there are 12 others in the city. Nearly half of the 35,000 Jews in Italy live in Rome and this complex houses the JCC, mikvah, Hebrew Day School, and museum. It also had a sukkah set up. That’s two more than we expected to see. Security here is incredible. Large concrete planters surround the premises since the terrorist attack on Simchat Torah 1982, when a two year old was killed and many injured.





Walked back to pack and say a not-so-fond farewell to Via del Pellegrini 13, and then schlepped our bags to the river where Enrico could drive to pick us up. Got moved in, found a super mercato, ate at home and hit the hay.

17354 steps



Day 4, Thursday, October 8 -- In The Groove

What a difference a day makes! Or should I say a night makes. We slept. The apartment is quiet and dark and we are rested and refreshed. Set off by Metro (2 short blocks away) to the Spanish Steps. I remember it with flower markets at the base. But maybe that was just for Audrey Hepburn. The American Express office is still there. That’s where I went for my mail 43 years ago. Strolled the high rent shopping on Via Condotti, Charlie actually looking (perennially) for a leather eyeglass case. I teased that he wouldn’t buy it if he found it, prices are so ridiculous. He’s also looking for a new hat. It’s fun to have a mission while shopping, especially when you don’t HAVE to make a purchase. I’m astounded at how many people are actually buying. Rome is definitely not feeling the pinch the U.S. is. We moved on to the Trevi Fountain, which is as beautiful as I remember (whether it’s a real memory or a movie memory). I’d like to edit out the crowds. Didn’t get close enough to toss my coin.



Walked on to the Piazza Colonna (with the obligatory column -- this time it’s Marcus Aurelius) where the deputies of the prime minister have their offices. The adjacent piazza has an Egyptian obelisk (Antony and Cleopatra’s loss). Then the Pantheon. This may be the most incredible sight in Rome. Built in 120 A.D. it is a perfect sphere, sitting in square walls, so it looks like a semicircular dome. There is a cut-out at the top for natural light. St. Peter’s and the Duomo in Florence came later. Originally built for all the Roman gods, the Church took it over and the contents are all Christian now. That doesn’t mean the mosaics aren’t beautiful, but they’re sort of transitional from the middle ages to the Renaissance, so lack the mastery of perspective that is seen later.

We headed out for Trastevere, the left bank in Rome, both literally and figuratively. Stopped for lunch along the way, back in the ghetto. We probably found the only non-kosher place on the street, because Charlie had a craving for mussels. And they were fabulous! Trastevere is mostly quiet and residential, but has interesting shopping -- some upscale, but mostly local -- and many streets are closed to traffic. Great for walking, and probably a great area in which to stay. Took a pass on the museum of antiquities and the botanical gardens.

By the time we had worked our way up to the Vatican, the museum was closed, but we had more or less decided we didn’t want to be herded through. Would have liked to have seen the Sistine ceiling since its cleaning, but we’ve learned it’s not worth braving the crowds. We stood in St. Peter’s Square for a minute and headed for home. We went to a neighborhood restaurant recommended by Enrico for dinner. They were surprised, but accommodating, when we asked to sit inside. The night was still warm and lovely, but everyone in Italy smokes and the mosquitoes love me, so we were ushered to a table for two, the only table in that section except for a reserved table for ten. Soon thereafter the place swarmed with suited, earphone- wearing security guards. Minutes later a man in his late 70’s - early 80’s came in with a woman on each side. Over the next several minutes they were joined by his minions. He was clearly the big cheese, though whether he was a movie star, a politician, or a mafioso, we had no idea. (Of course we wouldn’t recognize most American “celebrities” either!) Other patrons seemed to notice and comment, but we couldn’t tell if they recognized him or were speculating. Anyway, the staff was so preoccupied with fawning over him, we couldn’t get our check. When he lit up a big cigar -- his buddies and security went outside to smoke, but he was clearly above the law -- we got up to leave and just paid on the way out. I swear they wouldn’t have noticed if we had just walked out.

An exciting end to a lovely and interesting day.

21,300 steps