Monday, January 27, 2025

Bits and Pieces

 Pezzi e cianfrusaglie- That's how the Italians say bits and pieces. And that's what I have for this post about Italy. I've already posted a chronological description of our November tour, but I have some bits and pieces that I'd like to display.


  Before Venice, we had been in Amsterdam. I wondered if anyone swam in the canals there. Swimming is forbidden in most canals for safety reasons, but there are a few designated swimming areas in the canal system. The canals occasionally freeze so there's hockey too. 


  Swimming is forbidden in the Venice canals because the canals are part of the sewerage system. Also, you might get hit by a motorboat. But I can imagine a drunk tourist late at night risking the $500 fine.



  When we arrived in Florence, our bus dropped us off by a little park with a statue of Savonarola. I had a vague memory that Savonarola had been a bad dude. Sabra, our tour director, said that Savonarola was the bonfire of the vanities guy. 


  Savonarola was a fifteenth century Dominican preaching friar. He was disgusted with the voluptuous lifestyle of the Florentines and preached hellfire and damnation. 

He was a rabble rouser and got the young people on his side. They chased the Medici rulers out of town and established a republic with Savonarola as dictator. Savonarola ordered the gathering of objectionable items such as nude paintings, wigs and makeup, love poetry, games and dice, and music and musical instruments for the famous bonfires. 


  Savonarola and Florence itself did well for a few years. His mistake was in not cooperating with the pope who excommunicated him in 1497. The pope had lots of temporal power in those days and the Florentines got nervous. 


  Savonarola offered to undergo a trial by fire to prove God was on his side. But he had second thoughts at the last minute and lost all credibility with the people. Machiavelli was a contemporary and observed in his book The Prince, "Once you lose the mob, you're done for.” Savonarola was tried, hanged, and his body burned on the site of the vanities bonfires. 


  The soon-to-emerge Protestants loved Savonarola because he called the Church a whore. Martin Luther was a fan. The statue of Savonarola went up in the nineteen hundreds when Italy was trying to unify and the pope was getting in the way. The statue was saying- In your face, papa. 


"All is vanity..."



   While passing along an arcade outside the Uffizi Museum in Florence, we saw a line of 28 statues of famous men of Florence. Genius needs the proper setting to flourish and Florence in the 14th, 15th and 16th centuries provided that setting, at least for men.  I was proud of myself for recognizing 12 of the 28 heroes, including Da Vinci, Michelangelo, Galileo, Machiavelli, etc.


  Good old Amerigo Vespucci's statue was among the greats. Amerigo had worked in Spain for a Florintine businessman during the age of discovery. When his patron died, Amerigo married a Spanish woman with connections and he travelled on a couple of voyages to the New World. He may or may not have written letters about the land he visited, which is now known as Brazil. Whoever wrote the letters realized this land was not Asia, but a new continent or continents. So when the German mapmaker Waldseemüeller made his world map in 1507, he named the new continents Amerige. 


  I've always felt funny having my home continent(s) named on such flimsy grounds. But Amerigo's statue in Florence inspired me to look up the meanings of the names of the other continents.


Europe: Princess raped by Zeus

Asia: East 

Australia: South

Antarctica: Opposite the Bear

Africa: No one knows


So America looks good enough as a name after all. 

Better than North and South Columbia.


Wait...there's more.

Bits and Bobs

 Bits and bobs is what they call collections of small items in England. Bits and bobs is what I gather on trips to Europe. I like refrigerator magnets. Also postcards and medals of saints. Things that won't make my suitcase any heavier. 


  I also end up with my memory full of bits and bobs which once home I try to put together like pieces of a puzzle. I think this is why I travel- to gain insights while seeing the world from a different angle. 


  It helps to talk about what I’ve seen, but an acquaintance bumped into in the grocery store can only spare so much time. Their kids are waiting for dinner, or so they say. 


  It’s better to flip through my hundreds of trip pics and embody my thoughts in the form of a blog post. 


  Allerlei dingen is what they call bits and bobs in the Netherlands.  I wondered while walking around Amsterdam why the city felt like such a human place. For one thing the streets were not dominated by cars. Everyone seemed to be getting around on bikes. 


  Bikes in Amsterdam are a conscious decision. After World War II, some people saw that cars were taking over their city and they convinced the authorities to favor bikes. 


  It seemed like everyone who was not on bikes was either riding the tram or walking. There were definitely cars and delivery trucks but they were in a minority. 


  In November the city felt cozy, with cafes and coffee shops on every corner. It might get too cozy in summer when the tourist arrive. I don’t know. I won’t be there. 


Museums:  Museums are a problem for me. They're time consuming and expensive. I read once about an old man who when he visited a museum, stood in front of one painting for an hour and then left. How silly I thought. Now I am that old man. Or I would be if it didn't cost twenty dollars to get into the museum. I'm a cheapskate. Yes we can afford it, but it wouldn't be prudent. If I'm going to pay that much I'm going to stay half a day and I'll be in a bad mood and won't enjoy it so why even go.


  We did go to the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam just because it was there and we had developed an affinity to Van Gogh on a trip in Provence earlier. The museum is a huge likable place. It was crowded even on a week day in the off season. The Van Gogh phenomenon is odd. This building which has cost close to half a billion to build celebrates the work of an artist who sold one painting in his life and killed himself at age 37. The museum's star attraction, Starry Night, was on loan in New York. One more reason for disgruntlement.







At the Van Gogh, Three Views

Why Travel

 Some people hate driving. I love it. Any time, and where. People who hate to drive end up getting speeding tickets. I just get lost. The great thing about retirement is that we can take extra days to drive east to see the kids. Who would have thought Indiana could be so fascinating? Once you get off the Interstate you find out. 

  The other great thing is that you have time and funds to go to Europe where our ancestors came from. So we visited Ireland (me) and Sweden and Scotland (Teresa) and checked them off the list. Next we did France so I could learn that my years of studying the French language had been a waste of time. Next was England. The language barrier was much lower there. There was nothing about England I didn't like. Then to Spain so we could fulfill Teresa's dream of walking the 500 mile Camino de Santiago. Except we had let so many years slip by we had to content ourselves with hiking just 40 miles and spending the rest of the time in Barcelona, Andalusia, and Madrid.

  We slipped Greece in there at some point. There was nothing about Greece I didn’t like either, but that may have been because our Greek friend Alex was along to translate. So we were getting a lot of Europe checked off the list. Now it was Italy's turn. People kept telling us Italy was primo. The best. Should we do a hiking tour of the hill towns? That was our first thought. But then people would always be asking: did you see Rome, did you see Florence. Oh, it's a shame you missed the canals of Venice. You'll have to go back.

  So we bit the bullet and signed up for a tour. We had  only done one tour before. It was on a boat on the Columbia River. We had our own cabin. We could eat at the buffet and not in the stuffy dining room. We could poke around the little towns along the route. There was a soft serve ice cream machine available 24/7. My only complaint as that it was expensive. My friend Steve always says "You can afford it," but I was tortured by the thought that we could have rented a motor boat and done the trip for the half the cost, though without the ice cream machine of course.

  This bus tour we were taking in Italy would hit the big three, Venice, Florence and Rome over nine days. We had been advised to get to Venice a couple of days early, which we did. We had two days on our own to walk around this unique city. We had one more day in Venice with our tour group then traveled on to Florence for a day and a half. This was not long enough to see Florence, but we could have taken a longer tour.

  We liked Rome best. We saw the Colosseum and the Vatican with the group. After three days the tour was over and everyone flew home except us. We spent another day in Rome and on our last day took the train to the nearby hill town of Orvieto. So we've seen the main things people think of when Italy is mentioned. If anyone asks if we've been to Sicily I'm going to pretend I'm hard of hearing, which I am.

  Would we go back. Yes, if I could be put to sleep for the flight. Or if they build a tunnel to Europe. I hear blimps are coming back. Top speed is 100 mph. I could get a couple of books read during the thirty hour flight. Then there's the question of tour versus do-it-ourselves. If I could ignore the price tag, I'd take a tour. It eliminates 90% of the anxiety of travel. Maybe we could do a hybrid like we did this time: part tour, part on our own.

 The big question is do we even need to go to Europe again. I really don't know. I think I travel so I have something to say to people when they ask if we have any trips planned. They listen politely to my chatter then I'll ask them about their interests, baking, astrophysics, pickle ball...

  We're talking about a hike along England's Thames River. At least the terrain is as flat as Roseau County and we speak the language. And first class seats don't cost that much.

Move over Teresa, we're going to Thief River, first class.



Orvieto

 As we sped along the freeway between Florence and Rome, Sabra, our tour director, pointed out the hill town of Orvieto looming five hundred feel above the plains of Umbria. "Look," she said. "You can see the walls of the old fort. You should go there. It's only an hour by train from Rome. It's wonderful."


  Right. Only an hour. No, I'll just stay in little old Rome. Have a cappuccino. Go to bed early. But it was too late. Teresa had been bitten by the Orvieto bug. I hoped she'd forget about it. But she never forgets these little jaunts into the wild.


  So, after we had seen the Colosseum and the Vatican, and while the other tour group people were sensibly descending into the catacombs of Rome, we were entering the gigantic Termini train station near our hotel.


  It was a mild sunny Saturday morning. In the busy station were rows of ticket machines. We selected English. But something was being lost in translation. The train we wanted disappeared on the English screen. And the prices were much higher.


  A guy, noticing our confusion, tried to help. His English was not good and Teresa said his clothes were raggedy. He whipped through the screens.  Did we really have to put in our home address? Both of us? Teresa said she saw a screen that said, "Don't let strangers see your card number. I didn't see that.


  Eventually we threw up our hands and walked away.  We found another machine, but it was just as hopeless. I noticed a line of people entering an office. These were ticket buyers in need of a human. They probably had complicated itineraries to Istanbul or Vladivostok. Fortunately a man at the office put us in a much shorter line for duffers. 


  It turned out we couldn't make the train we wanted. The next one was in an hour but we were worried about being back at the hotel in time to join the group for our farewell dinner so we postponed our trip till the next day, Sunday. We walked back to the hotel and had a second breakfast at the fabulous continental breakfast room just before it closed.


  When we were trying to buy tickets I saw something on the screen about service interruptions due to a work stoppage. That night Sabra confirmed there would be no trains on Sunday. The unions call these one day strikes to warn management not to be stingy during contract negotiations.


  Sunday was mild and sunny. A perfect day for visiting a hill town. It was also a perfect day for walking around Rome, my new favorite thing to do. We had seen Sabra at breakfast Sunday morning. She had just gotten the last of the tour group off to the airport. The train strike wasn't starting till ten am and before she left for her train home, she drew us a map of Orvieto on a napkin.  This would prove useful on Monday. Thank you Sabra. You were great!


  Monday dawned cool and cloudy.  We left the hotel at 8:30 planning to catch the 10:00 am train. These hourly inter urban trains run all the way to Florence. Things went smoothly at the ticket office for newbies. Now we had an hour to kill before our train. American train stations are nightmarish. Any restaurants there are an afterthought for people silly enough to take the train.


  In Europe, trains are a vital part of life.  The cafes in Termini were the equal of cafes on the street. We logged onto the station Wi-Fi and dawdled over our drinks. At twenty to ten I suggested we head for our train. No one warned us our train was an 18 minute walk away. A fast walk. Now we know for the next time.


  The train took a long time getting through the not so historical parts of Rome. At least out here there'd be no men on every corner getting in your face to buy a ticket for the Hop-on Hop-off tourist bus. Once out of the city, the train hit speeds of 100 mph. We arrived in Orvieto at 11:30. Across from the station was the funicular railway up the hill to the city.


  The high town area is kidney shaped, about a mile long and a half mile wide. I had looked up Orvieto before we left Rome and saw there was a place there called St Patrick’s Well. Had St Patrick gotten to Italy in his travels?


  It turns out the pope back in 1527 had retreated to his palace in Orvieto while the Holy Roman Emperor sacked Rome.  The pope had brought his personal army along and worried about the water supply in case Orvieto was besieged. He ordered his engineer to dig for water. What? The engineer asked. You want me to dig to St Patrick’s Purgatory? 


  So there's a well in Ireland that is so deep, people thought it went to purgatory.  It became a saying that any deep hole was called St Patrick's Purgatory, which is exactly what the pope wanted. So they began digging through the volcanic rock until they hit a good supply of water 175' down. There's a walkway spiraling around the well for the mules carrying water jugs to the bottom. They didn't want the mules going back up bumping into the mules coming down so they built another path going up. Yes, they dug a double helix, like DNA.


In Italy, when someone is asking for too much, you say, What do you think I am, St Patrick’s Well?


 I'm a sucker for anything St Patrick related. If I could walk down into this well, my trip to Orvieto would be worthwhile. According to Sabra's map, the well was a short walk to the right out of the funicular station. And there it was covered in scaffolding. Oh great, it was going to be closed. But no, it was open for the few tourists in town on a gloomy Monday. Five euros to walk down and back up the 248 steps. Only 3.50 for seniors. ID please. Teresa had left her purse back in the room. "Look," I said, rather ungallantly, "she's at least 65." Anything to save a euro. 


  Walking down into this well was the high point of the trip for me. Sure the Colosseum is nice and St Peter's is pretty, but no one goes to Italy to go down into St Patrick's Well. It's unique. That's what I loved about it. I was now ready to catch the next train home and have a late lunch in Rome. But Teresa wanted to see the cathedral. Yawn. After getting lost in the maze of medieval streets, we got back to the funicular down to the train station. On the funicular, we chatted with a woman who taught Greek and Latin in Orvieto. She had never been down in St Patrick’s Well. Unbelievable.


  We caught the two-thirty to Rome. Back in the room we (Teresa) packed for the flight home next morning and then we dined at the Cafe Washington on chicken fingers, burgers and fries. Our stomachs were getting homesick. 

Ciao Roma. Ciao Italia.

Flo-Ro

 My father once jumped off the bell tower in Florence. Actually it was a reproduction of the bell tower and it was in Boston, not Florence. He landed in a net held by his fellow fire department trainees. He had been made to jump so he would empathize with people in burning buildings he might be asking to jump.

  Ever since my father showed me the tower, I've wanted to see the original in Florence which I got to do on our recent Venice-Florence-Rome tour.  After our stay in Venice, our tour group of 17 and our director Sabra boarded a bus for the two hour drive to Florence. 

   Our bus was too big to unload on the narrow street in front of our hotel, so we walked a few minutes from a plaza to check in to our hotel while our bags were shuttled over in a van. After checking our room's bathroom facilities, we immediately hiked 15 minutes downtown, passing the museum where Michelangelo’s statue David is on display. We saw an exact copy of the statue downtown so we were able to skip the museum.

  Sabra suggested we have lunch before our tour of the old city center began. I was amused to watch a waitress sweeping pigeons off the outdoor tables the way we sweep crumbs off a tablecloth. In fact the pigeons were there for the crumbs.

  The central plaza is dominated by the Duomo cathedral. Elena, our lively Florence guide, told us this massive church was built in the Middle Ages to impress Florence’s enemies. I’d grown ho-hum about these gigantic Italian churches but this one was special. Maybe it was the beautiful pink, green, and white facade or the huge dome, the largest dome ever made of brick.

  We moved on to the statues of mighty men vanquishing with swords or clubs other mighty men. Elena said the message of these statues to visitors back in the day was, don’t even think of messing with Florence. We continued our walk along the Arno River, past the Uffizi Museum, ending at San Croce Church where Michelangelo, Galileo, and Machiavelli are buried. There's a large statue of Dante out front, but just as he was exiled from his beloved Florence in his lifetime, so he is buried up the road in Ravenna.

  Actually, the tour ended not at San Croce but at a leather store. Florence is famous for leather. We were taught how to tell great leather from not so great. The price tag can lie. Teresa was given the opportunity to model a jacket. The group approved, but Teresa is too practical to drop €500 on a jacket with limited options for wearing it. Now if she had found the jacket in a thrift store...

Christmas is coming 

  That evening the group walked to a restaurant near the hotel for a typical Florentine meal. Another tour group was sitting nearby. They were loud and rowdy and one them was making out with their waiter. Our group was primed to hoot and holler too, but we were all sitting at smaller tables while the rowdy group was at a long communal table. That was an interesting insight.

  Next day most of the group went off to the hill town of San Gimignano. Since we were only going to be in Florence for one full day Teresa and I opted to stay in town. We walked back down to the Duomo. We inspected all the classical statues under the large open portico. There was a sign to tell us who was who.

  We wandered through the leather market, past the pig you rubbed for luck, and across the Ponte Vecchio, the Old Bridge. The bridge has always had shops along its sides, butchers, bakers, and such. But nowadays the shops sell mostly souvenirs and jewelry.

  After a late lunch we returned to the hotel to relax. Later I went out and bought sandwiches for supper in the room. We just needed enough to make it to the great continental breakfast at the hotel. After breakfast  we walked to the plaza where our bus waited. It was a sunny morning and we walked along with kids being escorted to school by their parents.

  It was a three hour ride to Rome. As we got closer to the center, Sabre pointed out the various iconic sites of ancient and medieval Rome. And then the greatest icon of them all came into view, the Colosseum. The bus dropped us off then drove off to some distant bus lot. Sabra gave us an hour for lunch before our tour of the Colosseum. "Don't all go to the same restaurant," she said. "Pay your bill when your food comes." Service in Italy is efficient except when it comes to getting the bill.

  We headed up a side street and found a place making their pasta in-house. We knew we had chosen well when Sabra showed up to have her lunch here too. After lunch we met our guide Michele. Michele was great. He had a colorful book and every so often would say "Look at me." He'd point out the current sad state of the Colosseum then show us a picture of what the place looked like in its glory days.

  Michele had all the interesting facts about the place. The Colosseum held 80,000 spectators. It had giant awnings for shade. These sail-like shades were managed by sailors who kept them from flying off in the wind. The main forms of entertainment were gladiator fights, executions of criminals by starved lions, tigers and bears, and execution of animals by gladiators. No Christians were killed in the Colosseum. They were killed in a different place. 

  In ancient times admission to the Colosseum was free but you had to have a ticket. Good idea for crowd control. Before the movie Gladiator, tourists like us could get into the Colosseum for free. But the movie attracted the mobs and now there's an entry fee. Modern crowd control. The real gladiators were not all criminals. It was a career choice for many. The fights were more like in World Wrestling Entertainment than fights to the death, though an occasional gladiator might be killed. Probably the guy nobody liked.

No introduction needed 

  After the Colosseum Michele led us to the Forum, a maze of ruins and intact buildings. Many of these old temples and even parts of the Colosseum had been dismantled for use in other buildings in the centuries after the fall of Rome. The temples that survived were those that had been repurposed as churches when Christianity became the official religion of the Roman Empire in 380 A.D. Talk about repurposing a message of peace and love.

  The following morning, a Friday, we got up early for our 8:00 tour of the Vatican. This was really the highlight of the tour for me. Sadly I forget the name of our guide. I'll call her Maria for now. She had black curly hair and she did an excellent job. Like Michele, she had a little flag on a pole so we could always find her if we strayed. We assembled in the drizzle alongside the tall sloping walls of Vatican City. We were surrounded by crowds of fellow tourists and pilgrims.

  Vatican City at 120 acres is the smallest nation in the world. My friend Steve's tree farm is just as big. Through much of its history, this place was a big deal. The pope could bend the kings of Europe to his will. Some popes led armies on campaign. Some popes sent other armies to Jerusalem to wreak havoc on Muslims and Jews. Nowadays, the pope's power is more of the spiritual kind, which may prove most important after all.

  I'm a do-it-yourself kind of tourist, but having a guide in the Vatican to get us through the convolutions of entry was a wise idea. We kept having to pass through security checkpoints, showing our admission QR code while following Maria's flag  I'm surprised they didn't ask to see my St Joseph tattoo.

  We moved into another world when we passed from the admissions area into the actual museum. The museum was started by the pope in the 1500s and is now the second most visited art museum in the world after the Louvre. The first hall we passed was lined with statues and shelves loaded with parts of statues. We continued through halls filled with paintings and tapestries and more sculptures, sometimes crossing through gardens with more sculptures until we finally ended in the Sistine Chapel which is in its own building.

Vatican rule: Throw nothing away

  The Sistine is the pope's private chapel though I don't know when he would have any privacy there. The place is dimly lit and is supposed to be silent but there's a constant murmer which the guards try to tamp down. And no photos of course. Who needs photos of paintings imprinted in the brain of everyone with the least interest in art. There are no tourists during the days when the world's cardinals gather in the Chapel to elect a new pope.

  The crowds are drawn to the chapel by Michelangelo's frescos on the ceiling and walls. My cousin who was a design teacher in Chicago and who has been to Rome many times warned me about fresco neck, so I concentrated on the Last Judgement on the wall. There I found another good warning. We could have stayed as long as we wanted but when our group left after 20 minutes we were ready to go with them.

  Next stop was St Peters Square, the open area that leads to the Basilica of St Peter. People think St Peter's is the main church of the Catholic Church. St Peter's is rather the main church of Vatican City. The nearby Basilica of St John Lateran is Catholicism's ecumenical mother church. I used to wonder what the feast of St John Lateran every November was all about. I learned just a few years ago that it's to celebrate the dedication of the church way back in 324 A.D. I think I stick with the church because I appreciate its sense of tradition.

  We entered Peter's Basilica. Its size alone would give it five stars. A lack of pews increases the sense of vastness. There's a red carpet down the center running to the altar that only the pope can walk on. This must be annoying for workers trying to get from one side of the church to the other. Maria pointed out Michelangelo's Pieta. You're lucky, she said. It was under wraps until a couple of days ago. Then she pointed out an ugly chair on the altar. You're really lucky today. That's the pope's ivory chair. The Holy Roman Emperor gave it to him in the eleventh century. It's usually hidden from view but the area they hide it in is being worked on so they put the chair on the altar.

  The tour was finally over a little before noon. Time to hit the Vatican coffee shop. The place was surprisingly uncrowded. We sipped coffee and recovered our 21st century bearings. Sabra announced the bus was ready to take us back to the hotel. The hotel was only three miles away and the sun was out so Teresa and I opted to walk back. 

  There's extra construction in Rome now because next year is a Jubilee year. Every 25 years the church celebrates a year for forgiveness. Pilgrims come from all over the world so the city needs to be spiffed up. We wanted to walk to the Castel San Angelo next to the Vatican, but the bridge was covered in scaffolding. No worries. The Romans try to make a place at least partly accessible even as workmen clean the statues on the bridge.

  The Pantheon was next along our route. This is an ancient Roman building with an enormous dome that became a church. Just then a heavy rain began. We ducked into a cafe for a bowl of hot spaghetti bolognese. The shower soon passed and we continued on to the Trevi Fountain. Now we were in full tourist mode. The fountain was turned off for repairs, but there was a bridge across the fountain for our inspection. But the line for the bridge stretched a couple of blocks so we continued out of the tourist zone.

  It was now gelato time. Sabra had told us to avoid shops offering puffy mounds of gelato. It's mostly air she said. We found a shop where the server was digging deep to bring up the good stuff. Very tasty. We were only a mile from our hotel. I plugged the hotel name into Google maps and after a mile we were at a hotel with a name similar to our hotel's, but not exactly the same. Teresa was a good sport about it. After all, what's another mile after you've already gone six.

  That night the group boarded the bus and we traveled across the river to an old style restaurant. This was our farewell dinner and we were sitting at a long table like we wished we had in Florence. There was plenty of wine and good food and several musicians serenaded us.  It was a good chance to chat with some of the group we hadn't really gotten to know. Tomorrow everyone would head for the airport and home. Buon viaggio amici!!

Happy Birthday to our token Canadian!!