Ascension

The towers of Florence reach upwards, as if trying to climb out of the Arno river valley. The highest point in town is the Duomo di Santa Maria del Fiore; its sun-like color still marks it as a triumph of human design, and one of the primary emblems of the Renaissance. Hearing it was not an experienced to be missed, we decided to climb to the top.
In North America, you pay ten dollars for entertainment and take your seats in the movie theater. In Europe, you pay the same amount and are then expected to climb five hundred steps so you can get a good view. As we ascended, I thought how clearly the changes of altitude in this landscape must have influenced Dante's journey through heaven and hell:

…“This mountain’s of such sort
that climbing it is hardest at the start;
but as we rise, the slope grows less unkind.
Therefore, when this slope seems to you so gentle
that climbing farther up will be as restful
as traveling downstream by boat, you will
be where this pathway ends, and there you can
expect to put your weariness to rest.” (Purg. IV, 88-95)

And it is true: as we came to the top of the winding staircase in the Duomo, we were greeted with the most remarkable sights. First, the inside of the dome itself, seen from a balcony that ran along the circumference. Painted on it was a vivid scene, seemingly straight out of the Divine Comedy. People walking on the church floor below were scarcely bigger than whispers.

But we left them, too, behind when the balcony turned to the outside. Having to climb another hundred steps, we finally arrived at the summit. Florence was all around us. The old spires, sandstone houses, olive-covered hills.

Even though we only left Venice yesterday, it already feels like a long time ago. We hopped on a train in the morning and went to Verona. We spent a couple hours there, walking the streets and looking at an old castle.

Then we took another train to Florence. This was our first high-speed train, and I really enjoyed it! it reminded me of flying in an airplane (the way it was set up in the train) but with the difference being that one could look out the window and see beautiful Tuscany pass us by. At times, though, we couldn't see anything but darkness, due to the train passing through long tunnels. I didn't mind, and simply used the time to get in a couple short naps. After what felt like a long day of travels, we finally arrived in Florence!

After settling in at our hostel, we crossed a bridge on the hunt for a restaurant and enjoyed the gorgeous sunset!

I was extremely excited when we found a spot right under a fan in a little restaurant. Best pasta I have ever had!! Yum!

On our way back, we crossed a different bridge, which had little shops and houses ON the bridge. A guitarist was sitting at the side of the walking bridge, wooing the passersby into a sweet romance with the city.

As I saw this car, I had one thought: Dustin.

(Cousin, make sure you check out the license plate..I think you own this)

We're heading off for supper shortly - more pasta!! Thanks for being a part of our journey! Love hearing from you, so leave a comment! :)

through rose-colored glasses?

It was in Venice that I received my first rose one this trip. It was the fifth man that was trying to get my cousin Adam to buy a red rose for me. After calling him a bad husband, he handed me a rose. I thanked the man and was surprised when, as Adam was explaining that being married to me would be illegal, the man gave me another rose! You may ask why I took the roses..but then here is my question to you: What would you do if a beautiful red rose gets handed to you? Yeah, I thought so. Anyways, so as I was awkwardly holding my prized possessions, the man turned to Adam and asked for 5 euros. I started laughing (probably more out of unease than anything else). Adam was adamant (haha) about not paying the man, which was fine by me. I told him he could have the roses back, because we really didn't want to buy any, but he won't take them back! So I just said ok, I would buy one. He took the other one back, I handed him some coins, and we were on our way.

(There is a sequel to this story, but you'll have to ask me in person. It's getting late and I want to put some pics up and not bore you with my rose stories. In short though, there are two fresh roses in our room tonight...and yes, same man.)

One of my favorite times here in Venice was when we took the water bus all around the main island.

The sun was setting and the setting was beautiful!!

Another one of my favorite things in Venice!! (the gelatto, that is :)

Some other pics of beautiful Venezia!

Ciao for now!

Postcards from Italy

The nine o'clock bell rings on our last day in Venice. It is, in a word, oversaturated. The main streets swim with trinket shops and tourists. The water is almost too green. The sun is sweltering hot in the open "campos". But for all this, a mystery remains in this city - stuccoed over with a few hundred years. It is this mystery that keeps me searching the shadowed alleyways, where daylight only lasts from noon until three. I seek out the house where Ezra Pound lived in the early 20th Century, I visit the prisons of the Doge, cross the Bridge of Sighs. Today, I walked for hours looking for San Barnaba, after confusing it with San Barbaro (I walked by the lute player in that square five times, from different angles). San Barnaba (at least the facade) is the location where Indiana Jones breaks a hole in the library floor and finds the tomb of the Knight Templar.

We have, for most of our nights here, slept in a place that calls itself "The Most Beautiful Bookstore in the World". It has a back door right onto a quiet part of the canal, and many books are stacked on top of two out of use gondolas that are placed in the middle of the store. Perhaps that mysterious force of Venice guided us to those little rooms, not advertised anywhere. We found out they had dorm rooms on a simple inquiry into the bed and breakfast they had on a different floor. No other visitors came the four nights we stayed. The only other people that crossed our path there were a Romanian family, and K-----, an ex-American writer (with a desire to open up her own nude beach on the islands) who looked after the place. She regaled us nightly with her opinions on the CIA's activities in Venice. As for sleep, our beds were nestled among overstocked books, underneath chandeliers and a paint-flaked ceiling (I've attached a picture of the unused master bed below). A courtyard was ours to use during the day, with a clothes line to hang our washings and several cats, who liked to rest upon the table. It was from this home base that we would strike out daily in our exploration of the city. More on that, later.

Looking back: Incarceration in France

That is the feeling I had as we wandered the streets of the beautiful city for the last time. The amount of words coming out of people's mouths was fascinating, as I pondered what in the world they were talking about. It was not a good feeling, being unable to communicate, being left in the dark...especially when those that were talking to me wore such grim expressions. But, having moved on, I choose to remember the good of Paris. So that is what I would like to share with you in the following pictures.

Notre Dame Cathedral:

We attended a service with some hymn sing in French.

Behind the cathedral was a beautiful little park, where we broke out our lunch.

(Grandma - there were beautiful roses EVERYWHERE!! Made me think of you often :)

Had the birds eating right out of our hands!!

I suppose this is what we looked like quite often, but....

...we sure had our fun as well!! :)

And on that happy note, i suppose I shall leave you for now. Although I cannot stop myself with putting up one last beauty.

Eiffel Tower at night, moon in background, and in the forefront, people who didn't listen when their mothers told them not to play with fire. Neat show!

Night Train Paris to Venice

I am on the night train from Paris to Venice. We boarded at 7:27pm, a bit uncertain. The rooms were muggy, claustrophobically so, and the train older than the others that pulled into the station. I felt like I stepped onto a vintage reel of North by Northwest. To add to the delusion, Nadia and I have been given rooms in two different train cars. I haven't seen her since the Bercy station. My bunk-mate is a sixty year old man who speaks only Italian. He has taken off his coat, revealing an off-white undershirt and a boarish belly. When he is out of the room, I accidentally start drinking from one of his Amerino carbonated water bottles, thinking it is complimentary on the train. When I realize it, I try to cover up my mistake by screwing the cap back on tightly, and disguising the bottle I sipped from behind the other, unopened, one.
He re-enters the cabin, and is somehow drawn right to the fizzy water. Taking one up, he points it towards me. My embarrassment grows: he is offering it to me. Unfortunately, he chooses the wrong bottle. I take it, using my non-existant Italian to best convey my emotions.
Interestingly, his flourish of kidness continues. He asks me, in a word, if I want a “café”. I nod, and follow him down to the back car of the train, past a cluster of dining tables set out with orange tablecloths. Here, a small bar is set up, manned by another Italian. He buys a tall coffee for me, and a short for himself, and we sip them, silently. There are little villages passing by outside the window, and white cows ressting comfortably at the bottom of the hills.

Recipe from the Heart of France

We're fortunate to have spent the first four nights around Paris with the Elmers, a couple of expatriate Brits who have lived in their new home for 28 years. They shared this recipe with us for a delightful Date and Walnut Loaf. We took a little bit with us into the city each day for lunch. They gathered the nuts off of the neighbor's tree, although I'm sure the recipe would taste -almost- as good anyway you make it.

Date and Walnut Loaf

8 oz dates
8 oz Self Raising Flour
2 oz chopped walnuts
2 oz butter
2 tblsp Honey
3 oz sugar
1 egg

Chop dates and steep in 1/4 pt boiling water.
Cream together butter, honey and sugar
Add egg
Stir in flour and nuts, then add date mixture.
Place in loaf tin and bake at 325°, gas mark 3 for 1-1½ hours