Category Archives: Italy

Italy

Traveling…

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We made all our connections, and things still keep working out. Caught a cab to the hotel, and it is very nice, about 6 km from the airport. Honza and lovely Klarka came wit our luggage, and we had a nice little chat…..looking forward to dinner with them tonight.

We ate dinner at the hotel, a really good burger, by the way, and watched Mexico lose a heartbreaker to Brazil….love the Mexico goalie, he played his heart out.

In the morning, we attempted to repack. It is so hard to believe that we are going home tomorrow. It has been such a stellar trip. I think we are organized, though. Hotel is paid. Taxi at four forty five in the morning, and we are off.

This morning, we caught a bus into town and reconnected with Prague. Love this place. We will be back.

Pretty much, that is all I got. Mallory and David said all was well with Leda and they are on their way to Florence to stay at Bonnie's Mario Hotel. We are so glad they are having a good trip. Certainly, we have mixed feelings about heading home. If I had a touring bike here, well, we might just keep going.

And, I think that is at the heart of this trip. Just keep going. So much to see, so many good people, and a viral food video to follow.

Amid the Madding Crowd

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Far From the madding crowd's ignoble strife
Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray;
Along the cool sequester'd vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.

Okay, so I didn't read the book, Far From the Madding Crowd. And it apparently has nothing to do with tourist locations, but we did spend the day in the crowd. Singular. It's one crowd, without limits, and I hold no grudges, but it has a complexity of annoyance that is hard to replicate. Oblivious, overstimulated walkers block passage, employ uninformed decisions in the strolling and shopping “Pause to look,” and many groups, even as small as a couple, go “wide,” an assumption of lateral space that goes beyond what is needed for ordinary forward progress.

It was a Saturday, and a difficult day for navigation in the streets of Venice. And, it's funny, but I almost think the walking is much more difficult than hiking on the Alta Via. Maybe it is the stone underfoot all the time, or the concentration required to navigate, as I mentioned before. Whatever, it is easy to get tired. And I think a lot of people get tired in Venice. At times it seemed as if the city were prevailing over the walkers. Here, a young lad running after a pigeon tripped on the bricks, fell hard, visibly going through that slow transition of awareness of pain, to sobbing. The pigeon won that one. But the clearest indication of how worn people were by the walking and gawking was the significant amount of them at any one time who were sitting down in cafés or bars or osterias having a beverage and some food. A tired crowd is a thirsty crowd.

We spent the morning tracing out the route that we would take in the morning to the bus and taxi station to pick up our early ride to the airport. Unfortunately we had a 7:50 flight, on a Sunday, and the shuttle busses don't get going early enough. I don't much like Sundays. We figured out that the night Vaporetto left Zatterre stop at 4:24 am, which meant out of bed at 3:45, and at the taxi area by 4:49, and taxi at 5:10, and airport at 5:40, to check baggage two hours before the flight. All padded and safe. We need to get back to Prague to get back home.

We took a slow boat back to the apartment, which has been very comfortable with the air conditioner on, instead of open windows and mosquitos, and found Mallory and David powering Bialleti caffeine shooters in a search for the perfect espresso. They looked very wide-eyed and alert. Talkative. But they were still in a lounging frame of mind so Lynette and I wandered off to more exploration, and eventually a fabulous sandwich in a corner bar near the Guggenheim Museum. It had two window seats that looked out on a canal, a nice breeze, and the best sandwiches ever, rich in mayonnaise, toasted and darn good.

And then, I confess, Venice and we both took a break, Lynette and I to a deep, satisfying nap, and Venice to its continuing effort befuddle the crowds, and grow the economy through cafe fare, evidenced by the masses of people walking around with maps in hand and confused glances up at street names and round corners. This is the truth: we walked by one outdoor restaurant with a patron holding a map and the waiter point at it and gesturing. Finally, the waiter gently took the map, turned it upside down, 180 degrees, and pointed again. We heard the patron say, “I think I've been going backward all day!”

We did a lot of things. We had beverages at our favorite little cafe by the fish market, empty in the afternoon and undergoing a vigorous steam cleaning. Lynette shopped for shoes, in a city where everyone seems to have small feet. We looked for glass figurines for big Alena. We rode the vaporettos and shopped the Rialto bridge. We paid 1.50€ too often to use a toilet, and remarked that they should sell 72 hour passes for that privilege just as they do for riding the vaporettos. We walked in certain directions with purpose and intent, and we often ended up surprised and mystified by where we emerged.

We said to each other often, “We haven't been here before!”

Followed by, “Have we?”

And finally, we met up with Mallory and David on the little bridge at the sandwich shop near the apartment for Aperol Spritzers and to plot a place for dinner. We sat on the bridge and messages Bonnie in California about a place to eat dinner, and as always she came through. With some scouting, we found the restaurant, a great little courtyard near the Academia, where we had the best meal ever. Who says you shouldn't play with your food? I think the Tiramasu was the best that we had in Venice, and it is the one thing that I didn't take a picture of. All the better.

We took the long way back, along the Zattere, enjoying cooler air and the boats in the channel. Lynette and I showered and went to bed, and David posted some photos to Instagram, while creatively spelling cuisine with a “q” instead of a “c”. We all noted that there are plenty of food photos with the hashtag #quisine, and no one was energetic enough to fix the posting. It is what it is, another good memory of laughter and walking and food and family, and a city that knows how to wear down the crowds with food and drink and mystery.

A very good day indeed.

 

Venice

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She is tall and thin. Her dark, brown hair is cropped short, and she looks boyish in pants and a buttoned shirt. She has a chair in the cabin, and she uses it between, coming out to perform duty, or staying out when the crowd is large, and the stop is on the opposite side of the canal. Movement is practiced, unconscious, effortless. She puts on thin gloves as she leaves the cabin, and they almost cover the small tattoo on the top of her wrist. She grabs the thick, sisal rope on the gunwale, one end in her right hand, the slack loose on the deck, her left hand a yard from the attachment to the boat. Deftly, she loops the heavy rope out into the air, under the mooring bar and over the top, a half hitch to the left cleat, another to the right. The vaporetto eases forward, the rope stretches, groans, and holds. Without looking, she tosses the end of the rope over the cleat, grabs the rail with both hands, and lifts and slides it open. The dock and the boat exchange contents, people, the connection is undone, and we move on. She removes her gloves and returns to the cabin. Such is the routine of the lady of the gate, the Vaporetto Queen, she who lets riders on and off, and tethers boat to dock.

We were up early. Lynette had been working on laundry, and there were clothes hanging all over the apartment, drying. We left the apartment and started some wandering, generally in the direction of the market by the Rialto Bridge. It is an open air market, with vegetables and fruit, and an amazing assortment of fresh seafood, and we took pictures with our eyes and imagined fine meals with good ingredients. We moved through the market and found a bakery, were we bought croissants and bread. We found a coffee at a corner bar, two cappuccinos presented with spillage but enthusiasm, and we sipped coffee and watched a parade of personality at the market.

After, we wandered in the direction of a Vodaphone store. I decided that it was worth it to have a sim connection, especially since we have to make some plane flights to get back to the Czech. It amazes me which places some familiar from our last trip here, and the places that seem new to us. Venice is not all that big, but like Prague, it is easy to get turned around and lost. One is never lost for long, but sometimes it is a surprise to emerge from a narrow street in a completely different part of the island than we thought. While we waited for the store to open, we went into a Billa and bought some fruit. It’s fun to wander.

Eventually, we found our way back to the apartment, and we ate bread and fruit and olives and orange juice. I took a power nap, and we plotted to find our way to Murano, the island of glass. The most direct route seemed to be on the north side of the island, and I boldly led the group to the academia bridge, and in a northerly direction, eventually coming out on the south side of the island by the Bridge of Sighs. So much for my internal gps. Still, we found a vaporetto, long and slow with many stops, to take us around to Murano. And, of course, we made new friends, Mario and Rose, genial and happy people, mature hotel employees, from the island of Malta.

His English was fabulous, his attitude wonderful, and he told me about Malta. I learned that it is a republic, two hours from here by plane, west of Italy. I think he said the island is only 19 miles wide, but marvelous. They have their own language but most speak English and Italian. He said the language sounded Arabic, semetic, but that they write “normally,” left to right, like the English do. We had a long ride, from the other side of the island, and it was fun to chat with him. Malta is definitely on my list of countries to visit! Indeed, I see to be building up a long list of unfinished business. Walks from Munich to Venice. The Paleo in Sienna. Bike rides from Amsterdam to Normandy. Normandy. Sherpa walks across England. Revisiting the Vadre in Conwy, Wales. So, so much.

We went back to the place we had lunch with Mallory on our last trip. The Calimari was fabulous. Goodstuff. Everyone went to shop, and I got time to write.

We decided to double our island pleasure, and we managed to get on a slow boat to Burano, the lace island. It was a longer reach for the vaporetto, but only two stops away. We passed an island that seemed to have a reasonable concept for the junior high of the future. Sure, it looked a little rough, but the containment aspect fits right into brain theory and essential research, so I had no problem with it. Take a look.

We became aware on the island, a small, colorful place, that Lynette wanted a table cloth, but she didn’t need one. Burano has its allure. We wandered about and eventually stopped at a cafe for spritzers and a bathroom. It was a nice break, punctuated by a woman who entered the cafe in white eyelet pants, very revealing, appropriate for an island of lace. Apparently, I missed it because my creative juices were flowing and I was working on the blog. Fortunately, she and her guy got on the same Vaporetto back, and I was able to get caught up.

The return trip was much easier than I anticipated, I thought that it would be harder, but it wasn’t. We wandered back to the apartment, made a quick trip to Billa for some snacks, and I started to work on our return trip. It’s getting close, and we have to be out of here early tomorrow. Mallory and David may stay an extra day.

Going to be hard to go home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cortina Before Venice

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Weather was wet again in Cortina. We had talked about a guided ferrata, but canceled that because of the weather. Lynette and I are talking about putting it into a game plan for next year. We see our foodie friend is planning a May trip to Normandy, and maybe we could combine participation in that with some biking, or the Paleo in Sienna, or biking from Amsterdam, or biking in Annecy, or some other madness. Anything but sleeping in snow caves during terrific storms. We shall leave that to the adventuresome Czechs.

We has breakfast and went to the bus station early to purchase tickets for the 8:30 express bus to Venice tomorrow. I also contacted Bonnie about the hotel she uses in Florence, the one near the train station and shopping. Mallory and David Are thinking of stopping off. The name of the hotel is Mario’s. I think they would like it. They seem to be taking in the outdoor cafe mentality and adapting quite well.

I posted some cards his morning, and we walked to the other end of town, new territory, where I found the one golf course in the Dolomites where they would probably let me play. The seventeenth has a pretty narrow, restricted fairway, but I’m confident I can putt my way out of it. Besides, there is a corner shack, a bar, with some very happy people patronizing the beer, if not the course.

We decided to have lunch at the Dok Dall’va Prosciutterie, and it was great. On the way there, we observed a massive block of tourists from a tour bus standing together, and almost in unison they aimed their cameras at the church in the square with the mountains and clouds as a backdrop. You could feel the color drain from the landscape. That many cameras, that many angles, that much draw upon nature and composition, you couldn’t hear a sucking sound, but the sense of fading was strong, fading brilliance, fading complexity, a weakening of what is. What was.

We silently wished them well and moved on to prosciutto, melon, mozzarella buffalo, breadsticks and bruschetta. And after, we decided a nap was in order. Bring on the afternoon showers. Goodstuff.

Post nap note…..

David and Mallory spent the afternoon playing with Kiwi/Aussie trail runners and it sounded like they had a good time. They showed up later in the late afternoon, and we went across the street to a restaurant for dinner. Once again, it was just great food. It amazes me that we can get a great meal everywhere. We had a lot of laughs and good stories. David had a bunch of good photos on his camera from the run, and I hope I can get some of them to post here. It sounded like the trail runner from New Zealand is quite gifted in his abilities. Mallory and David gave the couple a California invite….I’d love to see them do the the June Lake Tri!

Off to Venice today. More adventure.

To Venice……

We got up and had a quick breakfast and paid the bill and took off for the Cortina Express to Venice Maestre, the train station. The ride was beautiful, and the weather pristine. We have done well with weather, so I can’t complain about a little rain. I was surprised that we didn’t end up on the island, but it made sense when we thought about it. So we parked the bags with Lynette and Mallory and headed off to see about tickets. David was good about seeing the times for the train, and I saw a fast ticket machine. It seemed to require a chip and pin card, which I have, and in no time we had tickets for a train to the station on the island. Goodstuff.

We bought vaporetto tickets for a three days, so we can get lost and not worry, watched some folks go after a young man and accuse him, it appeared, of pick pocketing, and then we boarded a vaporetto to Zattere, the same place we got off the last time we were in Venice. I texted the Airbnb owner, but I had used the country code, and even though the text seemed to go through, she didn’t get it. We put the address into the phone and found the apartment on a very quiet, calm backstreet, about forty meters from a canal and water lapping on the sidewalk. Looks awesome.

I finally got a text to Leda, the owner, by using the number without the country code, and she apologized and began to come over right away. I stayed with the bags, ate an apple, and the rest of the gang went in search of nourishment. All good. It’s quiet on this street. Very quiet. I like it.

Tomorrow, adventures in Venice.