Capri

October 22, 2003-Disillusioned
(photo: On 2380 year old Phoenician steps)

I’m getting tired of the 20-minute bus ride into Sorrento every day. I have memorized the merchandise in the stores. When we arrived at the main square we had a decision to make. We could either walk down to the dock to catch the hydrofoil to Capri by road or by using the stairs. The steps were shorter, but the road was more scenic. The road hazard was that we would share it with buses and other sundry vehicles. The buses here tend to think they have the right of way over pedestrians. They’ve honked at us when the only place we had to go was into a wall. They really should provide niches where those on foot could take refuge. There was a bus alternative down to the water, but that’s for cowards. We chose the roadway and were able to take the steps when we were 2/3 of the way down. Life is about compromise. The unhappy fact of the matter was that as we walked all the way down we knew that we’d have to walk all the way back up at the end of the day.

The primary secondary language in Sorrento is English, yet I found it curious that vendors at the ferry dock hawked their wares in English only. It’s not uncommon to see people from different countries speaking to each other in English, eg. Germans and Japanese.

I’m dawdling and avoiding writing about Capri because I like odd man (person) out. Songs have been written about its beauty and romantic tales have been spun. To that I say, “It was on the Isle of Capri that we nearly got ripped off.” With a population of only 13,000, they’re inundated with 13-16,000 tourists a day. Their only industry is tourism. There’s a chair lift, a funicular, Villa San Michele a museum of Alex Munthe’s home, a Tiberius’ villa that we couldn’t see, a blue grotto that was closed because of high seas, high-end stores, low-end gift shops, and as many gelato stands as there are fudge stores on Mackinaw Island.

To avoid fighting the crowds for standing room only on buses going to Ana Capri, the higher town, we signed on for a guided tour. We should have been suspicious about Giuseppe, our guide. I’ve learned not to trust an Italian man who dyes his hair blond. He was a native of the island and said he’d tell us the history and show us around. He actually led us around by our noses. We detoured to taste crème-lemoncello, a lemon liqueur, in one shop, heard a talk about inlaid coral furniture in another, and were steered to “his favorite restaurant.” We went down to the town of Capri after lunch and saw the original Roman harbor and Augustus Gardens. The views lived up to the brochures but we were unprepared for the crush of people and commercialism. It’s truly paradise lost.

Giuseppe did explain that 4-million years ago Capri separated from mainland Italy but is still connected under the sea. Greeks arrived 2900 years ago. Phoenicians left evidence of their presence by building a staircase from the town of Capri to Ana Capri. The steps survive and are still used today. The Phoenicians, however, are gone. Mussolini declared that every city in Italy had to have a street named Via Roma. His villa was on the Via Roma in Capri. We saw the Quisisana Hotel Capri. That translates to “here you get help.” It used to be a sanitarium and is now a hotel catering to those who can pay EU 1,900 / night. Some of those people are Queen Elizabeth and the Kennedys. The most exciting thing we saw was a ninety-five year-old, fifty-two foot tall cactus.

Several people felt taken, but a Norwegian couple made quite a fuss and Giuseppe gave them their money back. At least it wasn’t the “ugly Americans” this time. The people locked into this tour with us were very pleasant. There were several Brits who weren’t willing to take the trade we offered them. We wanted to give them Arnold Schwartzenegger and Pres. Bush in exchange for Tony Blair and the Queen. They were willing to give us Blair.

Ready-O Let’s Go

We’ve been in Sorrento too long. We’re starting to recognize people on the streets and in restaurants. This evening we ran into people we met at the Laundromat and some from Capri. What did Italy do before America brought them the tomato? What did they eat? They freely admit they owe the tomato to the Americas. Where would Italy be if Marco Polo hadn’t brought flat bread from the East? Where would we be without pizza?

I’ve changed the title of my emails in an attempt to get them through a spam-blocking program at Lakeland Community College in Cleveland. I hope I’m successful.

Tomorrow we brave the Amalfi Coast. David was taking a survey of anyone who’d been there and is leaning towards doing it by bus instead of driving our car. I’ll let you know what happens tomorrow.

Toby

Pompeii

October 21, 2003-It’s All Uphill
(photos:At one of 120 bars,
Preserved bodies)

Today has been about uphill climbs. It started as we trekked 20 minutes to the Meta train station. It’s quite tropical here. Flowers were blooming and each house had orange trees. I peeked into the town cathedral. It’s a sweet little place. There are so many area churches and some are more interesting than the huge basilicas. They’re unique each with its own personality.

We had a free bus ride yesterday since the tobacco shops where tickets are sold were closed on Monday until late afternoon. In fact, most businesses are closed on Monday and Sunday. They also close daily from 1-4pm. Then they stay open until 9pm. Italians are not workaholics. Today on the train to Pompeii we paid full freight. A busker playing a trombone and a Scottish couple who now live in Surry entertained us. An extremely handsome young man was standing next to me. He was wearing a pink sweater. I decided that real men must not be afraid to wear pink. Correcting History So much has been written about it. What can I add? Watch me try. For one thing, it was more uphill climbing. We hired a licensed guide at the site so we’d be in a small group of eight. He was an incredible resource and very upfront about where Roman culture originated. He attributed it to the Jews and Greeks.

Italians aren’t known for being law-abiding. The “no pets allowed” sign at the entrance to the site was studiously ignored. There are bands of feral though friendly dogs living off the droppings or should I say food offerings of tourists. Then there are the leashed interlopers. We saw the beginnings of a dogfight when the “locals” objected to the “new kid in the ruins.” A guard started screaming at the local banditos (sorry, that’s Spanish) and they dispersed. It amazes me that the dogs understand Italian and I don’t.

The city was founded before 700 BCE. The Greeks were there in 600 BCE and the Romans by 180 BCE. The infamous eruption of Mt. Vesuvius, which was seven miles away, occurred in 79 CE. We know so much about the eruption and the city because Pliny the Elder and his son were in the area and got as close as they could to document the event. Unfortunately, The Elder succumbed to the gases. By the way, BCE stands for Before the Common Era and CE is Common Era. Jewish people prefer that terminology to BC and AD.

The eruption lasted three days spewing gas and pumice stone (hardened lava) into the air. The city didn’t burn. Gases killed the inhabitants and the stone caused the wood roof structures to collapse and crush those still alive. The population at that time was 20,000. People did have a day to evacuate. The 2,000 who didn’t leave or who returned to retrieve their possessions died. Vesuvius is still an active volcano. The last eruption was 1944. Since disaster follows in our wake, we expect that it will erupt soon after we arrive home. The present excavation began in 1748 and continues today.

Pompeii used to be situated closer to the sea but landfill happens. It was a wealthy commercial center and dealt in fish, 24-karat gold, wine, fabric, olive oil, perfume, ceramics, and agricultural products. Fifty per cent of the population was rich, thirty per cent were poor, and twenty per cent were slaves. The wealthy families owned land outside the walls and used slaves to farm it.

No cement was used in any of the construction. The stones, bricks, and marble were cut to fit tightly. Except for one heck of an earthquake, it has lasted 2,000 years and some of it still stands. Smooth marble slabs were used to pave the roads so that the moonlight would reflect to light the way at night. They are quite uneven now and walking along them is like playing a gigantic game of hopscotch. The walls were plastered with marble dust to obtain the same reflective effect. Each house had terra-cotta indoor plumbing that emptied into the streets. Permanent stepping-stones across the streets were used to avoid the effluent. The stones were spaced to allow for chariot wheels to pass. Chariot wheels were 4 ft. 81/2 in. apart. That’s still the width used between train tracks and it was the width of the launching ramp when we went to the moon. The guide said that it provides extremely good balance.

Aqueducts brought fresh drinking water into homes by way of lead pipes. The average life span was thirty-five years, but they didn’t die young from the lead. The calcium carbonate from the water coated the inside of the pipes and kept the lead from leaching into the water. It wasn’t until the 1700’s that such conveniences returned. Perhaps it was the pewter plates they used or the consumption of a gallon of wine a day at the one hundred twenty bars in the city that did them in.

The art that survived was mind-boggling. Frescoes are made by painting on wet plaster. The three-dimensional perspectives achieved in the frescoes, the technique, the musculature and grace of the bronze statues, marble carvings, and the optical illusion of many mosaics wasn’t to be seen again in art until the Renaissance.

Basilica is a Greek word meaning a place of commerce that included tribunals. In 325 AD Constantine adopted their shape for building churches. It has become known as a Roman cross. Forum is a Roman word meaning town square. Today’s piazzas still include places of commerce around the perimeter under a palisade, law, and worship. The Piazza San Marco in Venice is a dead ringer for the forum in Pompeii. The only difference is that there’s a church in St. Marks and a temple to Jupiter in Pompeii. The temples in Pompeii had sacrificial altars. The meat of the sacrifice was distributed to the poor much as it was in the old Temple in Jerusalem.

We saw many examples of commercial activity. An early feminist who ran what was a women’s co-op organized one of the centers. Another area had a large fishpond where fresh fish were sold. A bakery with ovens and grinding stones survived. It was curious to see that their bread had a hole in the middle. An early bagel?

A Fun Group

Relaxation was paramount and the wealthy had their public baths. They were centrally heated by a system of steam circulating through hollow walls and floors. Curved ceilings were grooved to channel condensation down the sides of the walls so it would not drip on clients. The original floor, benches, and bas-relief survived as well as a fountain with the name of the wealthy donor and the cost written in bronze.

The famous plaster casts of the bodies found on site were most interesting. The bodies were covered with hardened ash when first found. Only the skeleton survived inside the ash coating. In order to preserve them, the form was injected with a compound that hardened and then the bodies were cast in plaster. They’re indeed in the positions of death. One person has his arms raised as if he was holding up a cloth to protect him from the gas. There are casts of a dog and pig. It’s completely mesmerizing. Their agony is evident.

But these people did know how to enjoy life! The symbol for goof luck, a phallus, was carved in stone and stood by each entryway. Randy old Priapus is pictured in many frescoes and mosaics with an engorged penis. In one he’s weighing it on a scale; in another he’s carrying a spare. Hey, parts is parts. The Lupinare was the red-light district. Lupinare means predatory she-wolf. Prostitution was legal and they hung red lanterns to show who was open for business. Paintings of erotica festooned the walls serving as a menu of delights. Their stone beds and pillows (supposedly covered with mattresses in their day) survived as well as the toilet for guests. I wonder if it had a seat or was like the ones here today where they remove the seats and leave only the stool? In any case, it was a pay toilet. Some things in Italy haven’t changed.

It’s ironic that the Coliseum in Pompeii is the best preserved in Italy. It held 20,000 spectators and is smaller than the more famous one in Rome. There were two gates; one was an entrance for living patrons and the other was the exit for dead bodies of gladiators. Awnings were erected to shelter from sun and rain. A gymnasium and Olympic size swimming pool was included in the complex. The larger of two amphitheaters seats 5,000 and is still in use today. Our guide gave us a mini-operatic concert to demonstrate the acoustics.

We took a lunch break and decided to share a split of wine. Even though we don’t care for red wine at home we’ve grown fond of Italian rossa. We almost didn’t make it out of the cafeteria. We’re such cheap drunks. We decided that in our condition we needed some quiet so headed for the cemetery. They cremated their dead and buried them outside the city walls. The tombs were remarkable in that many survived with the marble intact and the carvings perfectly legible.

The Villa of Mystery was also outside the walls. It was a resort used to escape the heat of the city. It had some of the best-preserved frescoes. One tourist told us that they were on line if we didn’t get to see them all. There was no explanation as to the name or the mystery.

On our way out of the site we passed a warehouse for archeological artifacts. It was humbling to see household goods, human bodies, and pieces of structures piled in rows like some moving company storage facility.

I don’t know how long this precious site will last. Tourists will take a toll. They’ve left graffiti and plastic bottles. Perhaps the plastic will survive longer than the buildings. I wonder which will survive the next eruption of Vesuvius?

Down Time

We took the train to Sorrento where we strolled, shopped in Italy’s only department store chain, UPM, and had pizza for dinner….again. I’m liking our hotel more. The room is huge and the location isn’t as inconvenient as I first thought. It won’t survive as well as Pompeii, but we only need it for three more nights. We’re sharing the facility with a group of Israelis. They like their music loud but seem to go to bed early.

Tomorrow we’re off to the Isle of Capri.

Toby

Re-Adjusting

October 20, 2003-Ick!
(photos:Meta-Panorama Palace marked with X,
Laundromat from hell)

No more weather reports from here! I give up. It looks like we’ll just have to put up with the mercurial weather of the season. At least we’re heading South and it seems to have warmed up. A bar breakfast was included with our room. We were told it was croissants and coffee. The croissants turned out to be packaged cakes and the flies were included for free. I’m glad we didn’t eat dinner there last night.

I feel a need to keep writing about black sheep. Karen Cimini has such a quest to see them that I feel compelled to mention each sighting. We hit the bonanza today. We saw a black momma with two black babies and a white one. I guess I just want to rub it in, but Karen also wanted to introduce us to a favorite of hers, profiterole. It’s a custard-filled puff pastry with cholcolate frosting poured over the top. We found some this afternoon on, of all place, the dessert bar of the Autogrille on the autostrade.

We skirted Rome and Naples and found our hotel Panorama Palace in Meta outside Sorrento. We could have driven up and down blind alleys all day and never found it. There were two signs indicating the direction to take, but then it seemed as if they gave up and decided if we got close enough we’d figure it out. We asked directions many times and found the hotel when we ran out of land. It sits right over the water and is aptly named. Our room looks out to the Bay of Naples. We can even lie in bed and raise the electric window shade. It all sounds so Meditrranean and romantic, but Naples is filthy and Sorrento is barely a step better. There were even hawkers at the tollbooths on the autostrade. It’s that different than what we’ve seen so far. We’re back to dog waste in the streets.

Our hotel is a twenty-minute bus ride from Sorrento, which is where the action is. It’s not as far as we thought it might be. Today was laundry day and we loaded our dirty clothes into a roll-aboard and bussed it to town. There are no Laundromats in Meta and only one in Sorrento. It took from 3 PM to 6 PM to do our wash. It was the Laundromat from hell. There were two washers and three dryers. One dryer was broken. One washer tried to attack anyone within reach during its spin cycle. The place was filthy but the company was phenomenal. We had a long wait with the limited facilities but had a rowdy bunch of beer chugging Australians for entertainment. One group was on a tour from Sydney and the others were a young couple from Brisbane. We reminisced and passed the time and were joined by a couple from Connecticut. We exchanged travel tips and went our separate ways.

A friend in Akron who gets these emails told us that the wedding announcement for Wendy and her partner was in the Akron Beacon Journal. I know it’s available on line. We haven’t seen it yet. It was a ground-breaking stand for the paper to take. As I understand it they wrote an editorial about it and have asked for reader responses. I’d encourage you to let them know how you feel. Please save copies of the announcement for us and any letters to the editor that might appear. We’re really proud and excited that the Beacon took this step.

Toby

Orbetello Not Portobello

October 19, 2003-Lucky Lucca
(photos:Basilica and tower,
One man band)

The Ciminis didn’t take the sun. It came back today. I think it didn’t come out because it was sad they’d gone home. We were back in shirtsleeve weather.

Our morning started with a chorus of birds and their rendition of Italian opera and Italian rock and roll. We also got acquainted with squeezable tea, Oscar, and Nutella. The birds outside our window were ecstatic over the worms the rain brought out. Last night we dined to Italian crooners but this morning they piped in more energetic fare for breakfast. Evidently Lipton makes a teabag that has two strings attached to one tab. When the tab is torn you can pull the strings causing the bag to fold up, contract, and squeeze. Oscar was the curly haired blond two-year-old son of German guests. He seemed to have the run of the inn. Nutella is a chocolate morning spread that tastes like frosting. David loves it. I suggested combining American and Italian culture for a peanut butter-Nutella blend ala Resse’s peanut butter cups.

The rain yesterday was good for something besides birds and watering fields parched by a scorching summer. It washed our bird-pooped car, which we loaded up and drove ten minutes to see Lucca dodging long-distance bikers all the way. I think they’re getting in shape for the Venice race. There are 6,000 entered. I’m glad we missed it. We also seemed to have missed the 25th anniversary of the pope in Rome.

Lucca has a tiny old city surrounded by ramparts. It’s a little over a half mile across. No cars are allowed within the walls. It’s known as the birthplace of Puccini. What we didn’t know was that it’s street market takes up the entire town. It was the Antique Road Show Italiano. This wasn’t a flea market. The merchandise was intriguing. Among the items for sale were old cameras, typewriters, lace, household goods, and exquisite furniture. There was even entertainment. A one-man band accompanied by a boom box played “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” and other American favorites.

At Duomo St. Martine, mass was being said. We stayed while a nun read scripture and a truly heavenly choir and soloist chanted in Latin. The church was built on the site of a Roman forum during the 11-14 centuries. It’s Pisan-Romanesque in design. Pisan refers to the type of Romanesque style in the area of Pisa.

Under-rated Pisa

We crossed the Arno River in search of that ubiquitous tower built on a salt marsh. Everyone told us Pisa was a drive-through site. We took more time there and are glad we did. We approached the tower from the side of the basilica and duomo. I didn’t even know they were there. The only photos I’ve seen of the tower have made it seem as if it was standing alone in an open space. From our angle it was an incongruous contrast to the mass and symmetry of its neighboring buildings. It’s odd enough on its own but juxtaposed to its surroundings the tilt is even more extreme. We ate “old food” (leftovers) on the steps of a monument and gazed at the tower. We finished the matzo we bought in Pitigliano and the salmon pate.

Our trouble began when we found an Internet café and sent the last emails. AOL invalidated our password. It happened three times before when we were traveling around the world and mailed too many addresses at once. They see it as spam. We had to figure out how to contact them. We didn’t have the number for AOL customer service and couldn’t find it on line. No one here knew what we were talking about when we asked about AOL Italy. Evidently it doesn’t exist. We had a long distance phone card for the U.S. but it won’t take 800#’s so we couldn’t use it to call information. We had a SPRINT card but the access number for Italy had changed. We needed to call Italian information but it was all Italian. Our solution was to go to a hotel in search of someone who spoke English. The desk clerk was helpful but said he only had AT&T numbers. When he got out his list of long distance carriers he was surprised to see SPRINT listed. David bought a local phone card to call SPRINT in Italy so they could get us the number for AOL in the U.S. That accomplished, he called AOL who told us we had one hundred five recipients in our travel group. David told them what we were doing and they’ve lifted the spam block and gave us a new password. Oy!

We wanted to stop south of Rome but the AOL glitch delayed us an hour. We’re now at the Restaurant and Hotel Cacciatore in Ortebello. There was a wedding reception in progress but we were assured it would soon end. It’s a resort of sorts by the sea and a poor sister to Portofino. Everything here is seafood or pizza. David couldn’t face another pizza so we asked a restaurant owner if he could prepare pasta with no pork or shellfish. He asked if we were kosher. It was easier to say yes then to explain. Then he wanted to know if we were Israelis. In any case, he served us artichokes in olive oil and penne pasta arabiata. It was a tangy red sauce. Actually, the red sauce here is more orange. Bella!

Toby

Balbano, Of All Places

October 18, 2003-Seeking the Sea
(photos:Portofino,
Villa Casanova)

The Ciminis left and took all the good weather. It’s raining and forty-five degrees. We left the four-star Hotel Cavalieri della Corona in Cardona near Milan after partaking of what they termed a “rich” breakfast. I guess that would mean a light breakfast doesn’t include wine on the buffet. It was small compensation for the fact that we had to eat dinner at the four-star hotel restaurant last night. We had our hearts set on the autostrade grill.

We crossed a very dry Po River and started our climb into the clouds of the Apennine Mts. I felt as if Latin 101 had come to life and I was following the trail of Julius Caesar. Except for the Roman viaducts still in use, the red tile roofs, and the signs in Italian I’d swear I was in West Virginia. Those are a lot of “excepts.” Italians haven’t lost their touch as far as road building. The highway was an amazing maze of tunnels and bridges cutting through and around the hills. I’m sorry to tell Karen that there was even a flock of sheep and half were black. The charm of the moment was lost as we rounded a bend and were confronted by a refinery with gigantic blue tanks.

We wanted to find the Mediterranean Sea as soon as possible and Nervi looked like a good place to search out local roads. With water to our right and mountains to our left we soaked up the scenery in the luscious vacation spots of Santa Margherita Ligure and Portofino. The rooftops were now tan slate but the buildings made up for the lack of red tile. The color combinations varied from salmon buildings with green shutters to gold houses with pink shutters; and pink facades with black shutters. That would have been enough, but as this pastel palate rose up from the road on one side and down to the pebbled beach and the teal blue sea on the other, I saw that some buildings wore broad stripes, some were festooned with painted medallions or flowers, and others were decorated with trompe d’oile designs. Pomegranate trees overhung the road and bougainvilleas bloomed.

Lucky Lucca We followed tour buses until they could go no farther. Roads in Italy, even the autostrade, don’t have shoulders. The one we were on narrowed so that the lanes in each direction were the width of ¾ of a car with rock outcroppings encroaching into the lanes. In Portofino David quickly snapped photos while I held an umbrella over the camera. We lunched on bresaola (that dried beef we like) and pizza margherita, jumped into the car to warm up, and continued south.

We wanted to stop in Lucca, the birthplace of Puccini, for the night. David has mastered the toll- booths and was feeling quite confident when a car in front of us had trouble. We were surprised that only two cars honked during the delay. Italian drivers get a bum wrap. The’re aggressive and exceed the speed limit but do use their directional signals, yield, and merge without histrionics.

For the first time this trip we stopped at a tourist information office to book a room. They were extremely helpful. Most places in our price-range were booked but they found us Villa Casanova, a converted 17th century Tuscan farm. It’s only six miles outside the historic center of Lucca set in the tiny village of Balbano. David’s in love with this place. The views are panoramic, the furniture antique, the eighteen foot high ceilings are all original with wood beams, and the floors are terra cotta. All this and breakfast for $84. Heat would have been optional if the boiler had been turned on for the season.

A woman from Ceylon whose Italian was impeccable and whose English was limited greeted us. She was eager to help. The aroma of dinner cooking greeted us as we registered. We didn’t want to venture out to eat and choices here were limited. She totally understood our dietary restrictions. The meal was classic Tuscan. David was thrilled to have veal. Three huge rough-cut succulent pieces in natural gravy were presented simply on a plate with no adornment. I don’t eat veal on principle so my choice was soup and spaghetti with tomato sauce. The minestrone was the best we’ve had to date. Unfortunately, Tuscan bread is what we think of as Italian, but their version is tasteless. Olive oil is a definite plus. The dinner included a mixed salad and vegetable pie. The pie was what I call a pudding or kugel. It’s baked eggs with vegetables. Dessert was tiramisu ice cream, fruit, fruitcake, or cheese. We ordered a bottle of white Tuscan wine. On the bottle it said that it should be served at about fifty degrees temperature. That wasn’t a problem since that was room temperature. We’d been sharing one bottle of wine with the Ciminis, but managed to polish this off on our own. It was our undoing. I started making spritzers using sparkling water. At the end of the meal David said that he didn’t think he had lips anymore. I told him that one of my ears was cold and the other was hot. He verified that it was so. We started giggling until my eyes teared, but I didn’t wet my pants.

I must quote from the hotel brochure: “ L’air is sharp and invigorating, eccellent for the healt. Ideal place for holidays, short stans, and week –end… The cookin is typically Tuscan.”

Tomorrow we’ll drive through Pisa and South. We expect to be in Sorrento on the 20th.

Toby

Milano

October 17,2003- Peek A Boo Lakes
(photos:Isola Bella,
Frolicking in the garden)

It could have been I-77 in the Akron area, but we happened to be on the autostrade from Venice to Milan. We rolled through the regions of Veneto, Lombardy, and Piedmont with eyes peeled for the Alps. It was an industrial route with trucks galore. Our travel agent was right about a lot of things, but she nailed it with her weather prediction. She said we should go to the Alps before we headed south from Rome because it gets very cold up north at the end of October. The sun was out and the temperature hovered between the high 30’s and low 50’s. We were dressed for it, but touring in colder weather would have been uncomfortable. Karen had fortified herself at breakfast my ordering a café nero. It is black coffee that pours like Mississippi mud.

Every once in a while we’d see a tree whose leaves were red or yellow, but mostly they were green or brown. We made it to Lake Como at the foot of the Italian Alps by lunch. We’d flirted with glimpses of the lake as we approached the town. Its majesty finally showed itself as we rounded the last of many bends. We chose a restaurant along the water and enjoyed the view and respite from the tedium of the road.

My longtime friend from sixth grade and college roommate suggested that Lake Maggiore and the town of Stressa were more scenic. Thank you for that! We drove along back roads and were lost more than we were not, but we eventually blundered into Arona, at the south end of Lake Maggiore. The beauty of the lake and the villas lining its edge mesmerized us. They varied from Italian to Swiss influence with some Mediterranean overtones. Their colors painted the lush landscape with playful accents.

Stressa was that was promised. There’s more lake surface there than in Como. Islands and sailboats dotted the water creating a diversity of interest for our eyes. The Alps hovered in the background. What could be more divine? Although the tourist information office told us it was too late to visit Isola Bella, an island with a palace, an enterprising boat captain insisted we did have time for a tour of house and gardens.

I'm glad she stressed the importance of visiting this Garden of Eden. The house itself was built by the Borromeo family in the1600’s. Forget that the baroque rooms were enormous and in mint condition. Napoleon and Josephine really did sleep there. Forget about the grotto, a dark cool series of rooms lined with tiny stone and coral. Never mind the “horse boutique” with the glitzy equine paraphernalia. Disregard the extensive collection of marionettes and the six floor-to-ceiling Flemish tapestries. Ignore the flying staircase to the tower. The brilliance was that the family and architect chose the perfect execution for the perfect house in the perfect location. Windows were key to the success of design. They recognized that the most important aspect of the house was outside and let it in. We, however, were on borrowed time. As we progressed from room to room, we heard doors closing behind us. We were the last tourists of the day and were followed by a guard who was literally locking up as we left.

The environment was on display but the formal gardens were an attempt to tame nature. Palms, banana trees, and evergreens co-existed. Terraced gardens and ponds contrasted with less structured beds of flowering plants and orange trees. Playful statues peered out from lilacs and white peahens strolled the lawns.

Karen is ready to move there. We checked prices in the window of a real estate office. A modest villa goes for 7.5 million euros. Add 20% for U.S. dollars. We’re taking up a collection.

In our hotel in Milan, the city of Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper we had our last supper with Ron and Karen Cimini. We won’t be able to see The Last Supper since we didn’t make reservations.

The Ciminis fly home tomorrow. We’ll miss their company, their humor, insights, singing, and Karen’s knowledge and appreciation of horticulture. They leave us with their leftover snacks, their Italian-English dictionary, their extra Euros, and the whole car to ourselves. If they ever find their guidebook we get that too.

We go South tomorrow in hope of finding Portofino and Pisa. I’m sure we’ll get lost again. David’s attitude is that it doesn’t matter. Wherever it is we’ve never been there before.

Toby

Still Venezia

October 16, 2003-Good Morning Ghettos
(photos:German style synagogue-1528,
Spanish style synagogue-1555,
Italian style synagogue-1575)

St. Mark’s bell tower said “Good morning” to us by tolling its bells sixty times. I don’t know the significance of sixty chimes, but it got our attention. Fortunately, it was only a few minutes before our alarm was set to ring. If it had been much earlier I would have been forced to blow it up. That would have started an international incident and ruined our trip.

We were out bright and early to catch the waterbus for the Jewish ghetto. Sun glinted on pastel facades as Venetians started another day. Commercial barges laden with everything from newspapers to foodstuffs plied their way through the fetid water. Barge operators personalize their boats just as our truckers do with their 18-wheelers. One barge had a teddy bear sitting in the bow. Primary colors ringed barber-like poles marking docks in contrast to the black and green mold that crawled up the buildings from the waterline. This is a Mecca for the black mold mitigation industry. How moldy is it? The bottom step was so slippery with mold that I lost my balance and almost fell in. That would have been as repulsive as the time my hand accidentally dipped into the Ganges. If black mold is as deadly as we’re told, why aren’t Venetians dead?

We wove our way to the ghetto. It’s situated on an island where foundries had been. The Venetian word “gitto” means foundry. The Ashkenazic Jews from Germany couldn’t pronounce it as Italians did and called it “ghetto.” Designations of old, new, and newest ghettos refer to the ages of the foundries there, thus the oldest synagogue is in the “new ghetto.”

There has been a Jewish population in Venice since the 10th century. In 1382 Jews were no longer permitted to be in professions and most businesses. Doctors, printers, merchants, and moneylenders were the exception. That was the beginning of the stereotype of Jews being usurers. The ghetto gate was locked at night and patrol boats paid for by the Jewish community guarded the canal-sides. Only doctors were permitted to leave at night. During the day anyone who left the ghetto had to wear a yellow hat. That factoid is really spooky.

When Napoleon arrived he knocked down the ghetto gate and freed the Jews. By 1939, there were 1670 Jews in Venice. The Nazis transported 226. The rest hid or fled, but after the war only eight returned. There are now approximately 30,000 Jews in Italy with four hundred in Venice. There’s an operating religious school, an old-age home with ten “grandmothers” in residence, and a Chabad House. The old cemetery dates from 1386 and the new from 1700. There’s a head rabbi of Venice and several other rabbis in the community. Napoleon gave the Jews civil rights, but in 1989, the Italian government gave them a guarantee of religious rights. The example given was that if they are hospitalized and want kosher food it’s to be provided. For more information see www.ghetto.it.

Ashkenazic (German) and Sephardic (Spanish) Synagogues were established in the early 1600’s. The former houses a museum with an admirable collection of Judaica. The silver on display could use polishing by the Temple Israel Sisterhood committee that keeps ours in such brilliant condition. Government money may be requested for restoration since the synagogues are considered to be historical monuments.

Of the five synagogues, we saw three. One Ashkenazic synagogue has been only used once a year, for the High Holidays from Rosh Hashanah to Yom Kippur, since after WWI. Marble was not used anywhere but in homes of the wealthy and churches so the floor, walls, and columns are all faux finish on wood and plaster. The effect is baroque, ornate, and gilt. The second Ashkenazic synagogue is also only used once a year but may be rented out for bar or bat mitzvahs and weddings. The Venetian synagogue is in the Levantine (Turkish) style influenced by church architecture since there were no Jewish architects. The wood is painted black and the ceiling is white with black painted detailing. It’s used six months a year since it has heat.

The beauty of the whole thing is that this is a living functioning Jewish community. Jews no longer live in the ghetto area, but there are shops, kosher food stores, and a kosher restaurant. An amazing agglomeration of Jews from around the world gathers to see, learn, kvell (be proud), and, of course, shop. It felt so good to buy Jewish things in Jewish stores from Jewish merchants. We even ate lunch in the Chabad owned restaurant. It was comforting to know we could eat anything on the menu. Italians are really into their pork and shellfish. We have seen “lardo” listed on menus. It’s what it sounds like, pure bacon fat. I call it the non-Jewish “gribbinez” (pan-fried chicken fat).

Values and Clarification

In this Catholic country the Church couldn’t be denied. The afternoon found us once again in St. Marks Square just in time to see the interior of the Basilica before closing. We cut it so close that not even the gift shop was open after we toured the church. Karen couldn’t bear to see another fresco so she and Ron sat on the piazza and people-watched.

There were no frescos in St. Marks. It was apparent by the Byzantine design that the 12th century architect was from the East. Mosaic was the predominant art form for the marble and glass floors and the gold and tile depictions on walls and ceilings. I took out our binoculars to be sure and saw close up and intimate that there were in fact millions of teeny-weeny pieces comprising each work. A 10th century altarpiece, the pala d’oro, was displayed on the altar. It consists of 250 enameled gold and jeweled paintings on gold foil in a gilded silver gothic frame. Seeing the wealth of the Church frequently prompts me to conduct a personal value clarification exercise.

It was pizza night again. We’d been without for two whole days. Our antipasto was dried beef with thin slices of Parmesan and arugula. We had pasta fagiole soup, the real deal. We were adventurous with the pizza and ordered it with salmon, egg, and Gorgonzola cheese. The egg was sunny side down and in the center like a bull’s eye. When we were in Australia we found it odd that they served pizza with egg. I guess their pizza is just more Italian than ours in America.

Ron noticed a familiar face at the table next to ours. Lou Pinella of baseball fame just happened to be in Venice dining in the same restaurant. Ron checked the World Series play-off results with him but resisted asking for a photo or autograph.

We leave early tomorrow for Milan with a swing up to the Italian Alps and Lake Como region. Brrr!

Toby