Carpi, continued

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Italy 2012 (continued)

I arose early and met other women for breakfast–one of the best breakfasts of the trip (see Menu post).  I was still full from last night, and not eager to start out the trip chowing down, so I restrained myself, indulging only in some hot chocolate–something I like to do while traveling.  Why were we up and at breakfast by 7 a.m., when it was still dark (and raining) outside?

Because every year these women, one from Egypt (named Waggida), one from Thailand (assistant to THE Princess) and one from Turkey, had walked past this market on their way to their meetings and had always wanted to see it.  I was not hopeful; I’d been to small town markets before, but we were off by 7:30 a.m.

Did I mention it was raining?  Egypt and Thailand zipped on ahead of us–those two women were professionals and didn’t mess around (nor buy anything, Egypt told me later).  Turkey looked in every stall.  Crystal and I browsed, looking at the more interesting stalls, but passed on the ones selling stockings, sweaters or bras.

We hurried back to our hotel, for we were going on the spouse’s tour to a very important abbey: Nonantola, pronounced No-NAHN-toh-la.  I also found out that the town where all our balsamic vinegar supposedly hails from — Modena —  is prounounced MOH-den-nah.  Not Mo-DAIN-uh, like we all say.

Two Nonantolans.  Hanging out.

The front door of the Abbey.  This was a very important sight for us to see, but we couldn’t go into the church (because of all the earthquake damage from last year).  In other words, we should see this, but we won’t.   Instead we went next door to the museum.

Where we learned about how they made books (stretched calf skin, above).  Apparently ages and ages ago those who inhabited this Abbey (monks) were big on making books, and they had developed many different fonts, which picture turned out blurry because I was sneaking photos with my cell phone before one of us tourists asked the inevitable question: “Are we allowed to take photographs?”  “No.”  (Don’t ask, don’t tell.)

Upstairs, this is the other of my contraband photos: This is one section of a pleated nightshirt that one of the important popes wore to bed.  One other woman and I spent a lot of time trying to decide if it was stitched into place (like smocking), or if it were pressed into place.  I voted for the pressed into place.  We spent some time discussing this and feeling sorry for the poor serving girl who spent her whole day pressing a nightgown, and we missed out on the spiel on the all important skull-within-a-skull reliquary box and the upright-bone-with-silver-hand reliquary box, among other treasures.  All the titles and descriptions were in Italian, but did find out from our tour guide that long ago the people believed that if they touched the reliquary, then the part that touched it–say, their finger–became holy, too.

One last contraband picture showing an illustrated Bible.  But not one that had been done here.  And not one that was as old as Nonatola, which near as I could make out had its genesis about the 10th century.

Apparently, we could go down into the crypt because it was all redone in the 1950s, and hadn’t been affected by the earthquake.  But it was done in the style of the early church, with some of the capitals on the columns original to that church.

I am a terrible tourist sometimes, focusing in on the visual, and listening to the history of everything with one ear.  I’m always looking at the shapes, the colors, the designs. . .

. . . and fascinated by old windows that have multiple shades of glass in them.

We went outside, in the misty rain, to see the Abbey.

The other side of that window.

I think that these churches must have been heroic to the inhabitants of this ancient town, with their soaring walls and brick designs.  By making this the largest and most imposing building in the town, the church would have asserted itself as the most important, and perhaps not only a protection for the town (I heard that part) but also a giver of laws, and an enforcer of the same.

Nonantola Abbey detail.

It’s raining more, now, so we dash to the mini-bus.

We drove for a while through the countryside and headed to an acetaia.  This is a farm that is in the business of making balsamic vinegar, so I suppose the English translation might be a vinegeria, or something.

Here we all are, standing out in the misty rain.  It wasn’t that bad, but I wish we could have seen this farm on a sunny day, as the grounds were beautiful.

Here’s the basic vinegar rules:  Take a slew of white grapes and crush in the crusher thing.  Take the juices and move them into this cooker thing, which heats the juices to 90 degrees centigrade for about a week.  The resulting brew is called a must.  And you should have heard the farm guide tour say that word.  Here’s a sample:

After this evaporates and sits around for a while (we liked the drunken wasps dive bombing this stuff), they transfer it to barrels.

The barrel has a hole in the top, which they cover with a cloth and the barrel cut-out, which has another hole in it.  This is to allow the vinegar bacteria to find the “must” and join in the party.  Or something.  Our bus tour guide kept translating the farm tour guide’s English into American English.

They tag each of the barrels.

They are organized into groups of six, in graduated sizes.

Most of them are in the attic, where it gets hot in the summer and cold in the winter.  This apparently makes for good balsamic vinegar.

Here’s how it works.  When it’s vinegar harvest time, they draw from barrel #1, the smallest, emptying it.  They refill barrel #1 with vinegar from barrel #2.  They refill #2, with vinegar from #3 and so on.  By the time they finish, barrel #6 is empty and they fill that with new must from the vat downstairs.  You never mix barrels as they are like their own little family.  Some barrels are made from cherry, or oak, or other woods.  This process takes about 12 years, and at that point, they run a little sample down to the local agricultural board (blind taste test) to see if it’s ready.  It might be. . . or not, in which case that batch continues the aging process.  So they say that good vinegar is between 12 and 25 years old.  We had some taste tests downstairs (at the gift shop, where else?) and it was very interesting how as the vinegar aged it took on almost a sweet quality.  I didn’t buy any (ran out of time), but did end up buying some of a less-aged type in the store Eataly in Bologna.  I am waiting to open it, because once it’s gone. . . I’ll have to pay an arm and a leg to get any more.

They got us back to Hotel Touring in time for lunch, which was a pasta dish, baked endive, amazing salad and for dessert: some of last night’s plus tiny fruit tarts.  Dave is chatting with Waggida (Egypt) about science.  She was headed from here to the airport to head to Philadelphia.  I kept thinking about her heading into the midst of Hurricane Sandy and the huge storm on the East Coast, and have wondered how she did.

After a break, Crystal and I head to the local Conad, a grocery store, because I’m on the trail for Italian candy to bring back to my class.

Found it–the empty spots, but there was enough for what I needed.

I always like looking in grocery stores and so did Crystal so we were a pair.

Bull dog food.

Relax for the skin, first thing in the morning.

Mannequins, ready for dressing.

I wanted to head in here, but really–when you have limited luggage space, just how will you get some of this home?

Our Ramazzini Days banner.  You can see a lot of metal fence barriers here, evidence that they are trying to recover from the earthquake from last year.

Door handles.

The door handles are men’s mouths, like ancient men.  I have a close-up of these in Bologna (this set is pretty beat up), which I’ll show you.  The colors are all so subdued because of the rain.

Newstand.

I had decided in the states that my souvenir from Italy would be a leather purse.  These, with Halloween decorations, were interesting, but not for me.  Since it was a few days before Halloween, I noticed that Carpi was celebrating the event, too.

By a bakery.

I think the city was sponsoring a Halloween-themed downtown event, and she was all made up–Italian version of a witch.  I found what I saw reminded me of my childhood Halloween celebrations: rather tame and innocent and certainly geared toward the children.  I sort of miss that type of celebration in the States.  We have become much more about the gore and blood and vampires and while I’m not clueless enough to think that Italy doesn’t know about vampires, it doesn’t seem to be celebrated in this little town.

The children ran from shop to shop, asking for–and receiving–treats.

Mother has gotten into the action, too.

Now the rain had let up, and we even saw some sun rays poking through the afternoon cloud cover.

We duck into the Palazzo del Pio, which either didn’t have too much damage, or they’ve repaired it.  I do know that the old building attached to the side of this “Honor Courtyard” was where the Collegium Ramazzini used to meet and it was now declared unsafe.

Classically designed rain gutter in the couryard.

I show you these two photographs side by side, as they demonstrate how all the colors just come alive (upper) when the sun is peeking through the clouds.  Yes, some of it can be explained by lens and light exposure, but it was quite dramatic the difference the sun’s light made.  We found the same phenomena in Bologna.

The open door led to a smaller courtyard with even older-looking walls and buttresses.

I was teasing Crystal about her “smile” for photographs–a sort of a daguerreotype posing.  I like this smile much better.

I assume that the tall tower on the left (this is a view from the Piazza del Martiri) is the frontside of what I was seeing inside.  I hope someday to tour it all–I hear there are frescoes in there somewhere.

The Municipal Theater. With barriers.  The slice of building on the left side of the picture is where Ramazzinians used to meet.  Bits and parts of the steeple were in pieces on the ground (behind barriers).

One of the charming things about Italy is how they blend the old with the new.  New plaster everywhere, with the old parts exposed.

This grand plaza–Piazza del Martiri (no translation)–is what we saw when we came out of the Palazzo del Pio.  And it was coming to life with teenagers and more costumed goblins and witches and in the orange tent, the radio station was playing music. Crystal and I meandered back to our hotel to get ready for dinner.

Dave was there with his Ramazzini medallion.  I made him put it on (below):

Congratulations, Dr. Dave!!

Dave went off to a lecture, and I dawdled around, taking my time to get ready for dinner and answering emails (good internet here!).  I went down at 7:45 and walked over to the bus; the meeting was 30 minutes late getting out.  Turns out the mayor is a true politician and likes to hear himself give speeches.  Our dinner was in a banquet hall at the top of a local restaurant.  When I get the Menu post going, I’ll link over.

The next morning, Dave went off to meetings again and Crystal wanted to walk some more.

Requisite graffiti.  It is interesting how different the style of street art can be from country to county.

Because of the damage to their usual meeting place, the Ramazzites had moved their meeting to the San Rocco buildings–a former monastery converted to music school.  This interesting leaning structure was in the garden.

This hallway looks very much like Palazzo del Pio’s hallway, but there are some differences.  We head upstairs to find the group was on their break.

I take a picture of Dave next to his poster.  We babied carried that thing through three airports and across an ocean and a continent, so it was great to see it intact.  (We later left it by accident in one of our hotels.  Ooops.)

Door in San Rocco.

Our classroom doors look nothing like this.

We walked back to the hotel, where they feted us with lunch.  We had packed that morning, so were ready to leave directly from lunch to be taken to Bologna, which will be in the next post.

There are lots of journeys on this blog, so for this trip, look for Italy 2012 at the top of the post.

Carpi, Italy–Arrival

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October 2012

No, that’s not Capri.  I spelled it correctly.  Some time ago Dave was nominated for membership in the Collegium Ramazzini, a collection of scientists who work in the field of public health.  He was honored to accept their nomination (and pay their annual fee) and we made plans to head to Italy.

 

 

One of the interesting things about travel is that you lay out for yourself an itinerary of hotels and sights to see, but somehow, even without wanting to, you also lay out an itinerary of the heart, especially if you are feeling exhausted or tired before you go.  When I’m in (fill in the blank), you say, I’ll always have nice meals and get to bed at a reasonable hour.  When I see ________ , I will take time to really soak up the sight.  And too often we travel like we live: rushing from one item on the checklist to another.

But this trip, I’m sure, will be different.

What we see when we wander the myriad of hallways to escape the plane.  We’ve noticed that this is a constant: international flights have you take hallways and turns and escalators and stairs and more hallways and then a moving walkway to get out.

LAX to Frankfurt went well, and then we sit in some hallway and wait for them to post our gate. We head over there, wait a while (reading), meet up with Dave’s colleague Carl and his wife Crystal, and now head down two flights of stairs to a bus to go out to the airplane.  But they don’t let us off.  Instead they take us back to the terminal and we climb two sets of stairs to wait another hour.

On the flight from Frankfurt to Bologna, we had those new “thin” seats we’ve been reading about in the States.  Comfortable.  I wouldn’t mind them so much if I thought they were doing this to give us more leg room, but instead it’s so they can cram more passengers on the plane.

We’d been following the weather reports with all due diligence, and yes, it was raining in Bologna when we arrived.  We’re supposed to have a lot of rain this week.

We stood, obediently and jet-lagged, at our carousel, waiting for our luggage.  After about 40 minutes, two guys in orange jumpsuits jumped up on the carousel and started fiddling with the  emergency stop buttons.  Nothing.

Finally they routed us over to the side carousel where we picked up the luggage that had been sitting out in the rain for nearly an hour.  We went upstairs to join the others who had been waiting for us (sorry, guys, but welcome to Italy) and took an hour-long van ride out to Carpi, home of Collegium Ramazzini, or as they say amongst themselves, Welcome to Ramazzini Days. (I slept most of the way there.)

From our little balcony, I could hear the cars swooshing around. . . in the rain. We were on the fourth floor, which gave us a chance for some exercise every day.

I always love to see what hotels put out for their toiletries, and this, in a slotted wooden tray, was one of the nicer displays.

This plain, flat, horizontal surface looked better than I can adequately describe.  We immediately took our shoes off, and lay down to rest–for awhile, before we joined the other scientists and spouses at the 7:00 p.m.reception, where we felt like new kids at a birthday party.  I did manage to enjoy the food treats as we had not eaten since the morning meal on the plane.

We had dinner that night in the hotel’s restaurant, and it began at 8 p.m. which is I-Don’t-Know-What-Time in California time.  I’ve put all our meal items over in Menu posts (I and II), so check there.  Those will be an ongoing process as I hit each city.  Let me just say that although we staggered upstairs at 10:30 that night, we were happy and well-fed.  And talked-out.

The information about Hotel Touring, where we stayed and where I honestly doubt any American will stay unless they have a car and are touring around, is on the main map post of this trip, and on TripAdvisor, under the pen name of “Letterpress.”  It was a good hotel, and I can recommend it.

Todi, Deruta, Assisi & Pienza

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(Italy 2007)

Driving across the countryside is not an efficient use of time while traveling, but it certainly is a beautiful way to travel.  And where we’re going–the backroads work just fine.  We’re on our way to other hilltowns, before our final destination tonight of Pienza. Above is Orvieto, from afar (through a haze, but it is apparent how “on a hill” it is).

We both decided we could live in that house on the hill if we had sacks of money.  But, oh, what a beautiful location.

After traveling for a length of time, we arrive at the bottom of the hill of the town of Todi, in Umbria.  This little church is the Santa Maria della Consolazione, built  between 1508-1607.  Yes, that’s 100 years.

It’s one of those brilliant little Renaissance churches based on a Greek cross.  There’s some thinking that it was built to a plan by Bramante.  I’m always impressed with the architecture of that time, as it seems there’s not a hair out of place on these churches, and they are so symmetrial and ordered.  If ever your life was crazy-time, you’d want to come and pray in a church like this.

Interior Ceiling

Here’s a map of Todi for orientation. Many hilltowns have a long street down the middle, with everything branching off it.  This long street often leads to the main plaza and a church.

We drive up a little further, park below this church,  the San Fortunato (built 1292-1462, according to our guidebook), obviously missing the upper part of its facade.  I liked the criss-crossing steps on the hill, visible on the map above, to the left of the main part of the town.

Todi has a lot of curving streets bordered by buildings.  The shadows leading to the light are a typical scene, with flowers in the window box.

Or hanging laundry. Don’t you wonder who lives in that tiny one-window room just below the tablecloths?  Or what it looks like from the inside? (Maybe a late addition of a bathroom?)

View from through the Duomo’s front doors.

View from the Duomo doorway into the Piazza del Popolo, which was built in the 13th century on the site of a Roman temple to Apollos.  I liked its spare feeling–not a lot of ornamentation.

If I lived here, I could eat every night on that little balcony.  There’s a lot times when traveling here that we would see a picturesque place like this, and wish for a few minutes that we could enjoy their style of living.  But how often would the children and grandchildren be able to see us if we lived across the ocean?  Our family has a pull that no beautiful house can match.

Giribaldi Plaza.  This man was a folk hero, soldier, member of Itay’s parliament and apparently responsible (or contributed heavily) to the unification of Italy.  Didn’t know any of this when I saw the statue–just liked his outfit and his hat, and the fact that the parked cars were an interesting juxtiposition against his rakish stance. He traveled all over the world, married a Brazilian woman, and even came to the States to try and raise money for a ship.

Lovely square tower, so typical of these towns.  I assume all the dots next to the windows once held shutters.

This was on one side of Giribaldi Plaza.  We were thinking about our next meal (lunch) and moving on to try and find a cousin to our Derutan plates hanging on the walls back in our kitchen, so we buy some prosciutto to go with the rolls we had from Orvieto, along with one tomato and two yellow plums.  We stop in Deruta and eat our lunch in the car, then try to find the pottery.  First stop–not the style, but beautiful.  The town appears to be closed for the lunch hour–it’s all deserted.  I’m about to give up home, but Dave spots an open door.

We go in.  This is when I know Dave has ultimate tourist karma, because it’s the shop!

I’d taken pictures of our plates before leaving home and the owner identifies them as his.  He confirms that he sells to a place in Laguna Beach, so we know it’s the right place. We take a long time, but finally choose salad-sized plates to take home.  Here he is putting the wire on the back for hanging.  He then invites us in to see the artists at work in the workshop.

Were you expecting Gepetto?  It’s lunchtime he says (he speaks English), so a lot of them are at home.

It was interesting to me how they used one hand to support the other as they painted.

While we’re there, another tour guide with only three women comes into the shop, and I overhear her say this is the place to come for high quality pottery from Deruta.  After paying for our plates, we find a gelato shop at the end of town and celebrate by sharing.  We head on the highway toward Perugia, then veer off to Assisi.

We can see it from the motorway, high up on a hill, and we begin the climb up to the top (in our car).  Just to the left of that green patch on right (on the map above) is a car park–a garage with LOTS of parking.  This is at the top of the hill, so we begin to wend our way down to the Basilica.

This plaza is the first one we enter at the top of the hill, with its traditional square tower.

The main drag.

A friar on his way past the gelateria.

Flower-filled courtyard.

A favorite shot when I can get it: through an archway into the valley below.

Old frescoes (above and below) above interesting doorways.

A combo drive/walk street.  Or else the paved sidewalks are for shopping carts and baby buggies.

Aqueduct of Assisi: water supply.

Dave in front of a building that looks held together with rods and end posts, but it has a variety of windows, probably from different eras, er–centuries.  Just around the bend from this is the Basilica.  This was the one that was so heavily damaged in the earthquakes in 1997.  I remember seeing all the rubble of the collapsed tower, but we came so I could see the frescoes by Giotto, which are along the walls of the main church.

It was the campanille to the left that was so heavily damaged (I think).  PAX on the lawn in front of the basilica.  We took the tour–Reliquary, Tom, Lower Nave, Upper Nave–but no photos allowed, ending up in the gift shop, where there were no decent books on Giotto’s frescoes.

Okay to take photos of the courtyard, though, just outside the gift shop.  We head back inside the church to admire the art.  Here’s some sampling from the web.

The main part of the church.

Given that I’ll probably never get into Scrovegni Chapel, these were next best thing.  We linger a long time, enjoying all the artwork, walking up and down, but mostly sitting, amazed at these frescoes, still intact from the 13th century.  They portray the life cycle of St. Francis. Above, he eschews rich clothing and his titles so help the poor and needy. Below “Do not touch me,” as he greets Christ.

Head to this website to see more.

Back outside, we take more photos.

The friary? I like the brickwork.

Lower level, I guess where the tour busses arrive and drop off the tourists.


We head back up the street, spotting a nun.  Silly to take photos, I suppose, but it’s not something I’ll see often in my hometown.  Yet, it’s evident it is part of life here in Assisi.

This reminds me of a balcony where a Juliet might talk to her Romeo.  On that day in Assisi, rain drops were falling–spitting, actually–but no rain.

Thirsty, we buy a 2-euro bottle of water and drain it.  That’s one of the things about traveling, you learn not to take easy access to a drink for granted.  I assume these are coats of arms affixed to the wall.

Another balcony on another square tower.  We’re off to Pienza to our hotel.

We found this Hotel–Piccolo Hotel La Valle–on the web, where it was part of a traveler’s diary, then confirmed it was a good hotel on Venere.com, a cousin to our domestic Trip Advisor.  It was at the edge of the town, and when we opened our windows we saw the countryside below.

Requisite photo of bathroom.  Love the checkboard tiles.

We went to dinner at a restaurant recommended by the hotel desk: Da Fiorella.  It is a very small place, with an upstairs loft-like area overlooking the main floor.

In the front is a fennel, pepper, carrot and raddichio salad.  Dave had grilled eggplant with cheese.  And in the center–heaven–in the form of lightly dressed white beans with onions.

Dessert: panna cotta with berry sauce and berries.  We shared it–delish!

Orvieto, Italy

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We arrive in Paris; it was tight a connection on Alitalia until the flight was delayed by two hours and we spent too much money on airport food for lunch, but not by choice.  Welcome to travel.

We board and land in Rome, ready for our adventure.

First adventure: get the rental car, by walking through lots of tubular walkways like this one.  The Slow Travel website had a really good description of how to find these rental car counters, so I knew it was a long way away from our gate.

Into the car and out on the freeway.  Driving in a car around Rome was unusual, because like most tourists, I’d only ever traveled the downtown city center.  It was interesting to see where Romans lived (high rises) and also interesting to see these glass walls on the freeway.  The first time anywhere I think the sense of discovery runs very high and anything different or new is interesting, or at least worth taking a photo of.

Even dumb things like this tanker with interesting stars on the back of it.

Or beautiful things like these fields of sunflowers. We drove to Orvieto and looked for a place to park our car.  We drove around the top of the city (remember this is on a hilltown) three times, before finding a car park.

Then find our way to the hotel.

Dave checks us in. The name of the hotel is Albergo (Hotel) Fillippeschi and it’s on Via Filippeschi 19.

The bedroom.  It overlooked a fairly quiet street.

The bathroom.  Stuff stowed, we head out.  As usual our time zones are scrambled, so it’s stroll for a while until we feel we can do some dinner–usually later in these hilltowns.  We head for the Duomo, as we’ve heard it’s best to see it in the setting sun.

This isn’t a huge town, so we just meander our way over. We come upon the plaza, framed by the side streets.

The striped construction is so interesting–bands of dark and then light flagstone, according to Wikipedia.

The sun’s beginning to glint off the gold glass tiles in the mosaics.  We couldn’t take our eyes off of it.

For a comprehensive discussion of what is just touched on here, *this* website has a lot of great details about the cathedral.

(Imagine the previous photo hooked up with this one.)

We’re not the only ones who think this sight is worth something.  A row of older men sit across the plaza from the duomo chatting away.  From the looks of them, it’s a nightly occurrence in summer, I’d guess.

And on the other side, the distaff side of the town gathers to talk over their day.

We’re back to fascination with this cathedral.  Apparently there are three major cathedrals in this region: Sienna, Florence and Orvieto, but this one gets little attention, as compared to the others.  Certainly the city around it is not as compelling, and perhaps that’s why–size of town.  This is literally the top of a hill, and it’s not very big, whereas the others have spread out more.  But we find the front of this church, and its carvings entrancing, taking photo after photo (this is where a telephoto lens would have come in handy).

I suppose this one is the Creation, although I don’t know who the standing figures are on the left.

Spiraling bands of mosaic up the side pillars.  I’m thinking quilt patterns! It’s a loopy kind of spiral, not even and measured.

The pillars near the front door. You can see the loopiness in that one pillar more clearly.

Reaching out over the edge of the facade in the upper right is a bronze sculpture: the eagle representing John in the New Testament.

Above the huge front doorways are a rose window and another triangular mosaic.

This is taken from the alley across the street.  The plaza is not that large–sort of like Florence’s Duomo–hemmed in by buildings.  Remember that there is not a lot of real estate up here on this hill–not like Venice, which has a grand plaza in front of its cathedral.

Apparently the flying buttresses (seen at the far end of this picture–the curving line) were built to try and help with the distribution of weight.  Later they were found out to be pretty much useless.  This cathedral too over 300 years to build, so I’m sure there were a lot of committees working on this one.

A side door.  Love the green lintel.

These stripes I find, are quite striking, and highlight the architecture of this building.  Strong bold stripes that have lacy filigree bands create another kind of contrast.

We think we’re hungry now and head for dinner.  Three courses, and this is the first.  It’s like a taste of everything.

Pardon the half-eaten meals.  Sometimes we forget to take a picture at the beginning.  These gnocchi were the best I’ve every eaten, anywhere.

Somehow we got our wires crossed and they brought the cheese course.  I thought it would like 3 pieces, but it was a board with about 13 different kinds of cheese.  I told them I’d pay for it, but there was no way I was going to eat it.  Dave had dessert, though, and this is how it was served: a rolling trolley with clear covers over a variety of different desserts.  I had some fresh berries, and Dave chose this baked dessert, but I can’t remember what it was, or what the name of the restaurant was.  It was sort of kitty-corner from the Duomo, on our hotel side.

And this is what we saw when we came out after dinner.  I’m always struck by the color of the skies in Europe–such rich colors, unlike our insipid blah of Los Angeles area.  I suppose if we were on a hill somewhere, away from smog, lights and haze, we might actually get a sky like this.  Nah.

The next morning we, with out screwed up time zones, are up way before dawn, shower and dress and try to go for a walk.  Except they’ve locked the hotel front door and no one is at the desk.  Okay–what if there were a fire?  How would we get out now?  We explore a little, and back in the bar is a little door opens that leads to a little alley.  We’re out and can’t get back in until someone comes to man the desk.  This is the hotel; the woman is standing in the doorway and our room is above her, shutters closed.

A different kind of light shines on the buildings this morning, with different facades and buildings illuminated.  I like the two small windows by the central window, and the bas relief over the deep doorway.

This is supposedly the oldest building (after the cathedral).  The crenelation on that roof is quite interesting.

I love that these buildings have art on the exterior, with a very elegant frame.

I’m going to paint my doorway in bands, just like these.  Do you suppose they scavenged them from when the cathedral was being built?  Tthey are across the side plaza.

Coats of arms built into the building.

We’d seen this clock last night (it faces the side of the cathedral, next to the shop with the interesting black and white doorways).  We think the top contraption is a mechanical clock.

There is more to this town than the cathedral and we go exploring.

A perfect little Madonna and son tile embedded above a doorway.

Senso Unico=One Way.  That’s why we traveled around the town three times the night before trying to find a place to park.  Everytime we’d get close, one of these signs would direct us another direction.

Close-up of the little patio in the picture above.

I’m pretty fixated on mailboxes when I travel.  Someday I’ll do a post on nothing but mailboxes.

This little church wasn’t open, otherwise we’d have gone inside.  It is still quite early in the morning.

They do doorways really well in Italy.

The morning sun is beginning to bring the Italian colors alive, along with fake sunflowers blooming on a balcony above us.

The angles: up, down, slant, rounded, framed by a small alleyway.

Doesn’t the mossy texture on this church invite touch?  And that cross has its own tufts of grass–or lavender–growing up there.

These pictures are taken overlooking the surrounding countryside.

Now we’re back onto our street and are thinking–maybe breakfast?  We wanted to get a start this morning toward Pienza and visit some more hilltowns.  I love this balcony of flowers, but could never replicate them in our desert heat.  Even the arbor is well-defined in vining tendrils.

After breakfast, one last view from our hotel room, as people are starting their day.  We leave our luggage, and decide to try and see the interior of the cathedral.

We’re ready.

I’m always surprised when an ornate exterior leads to an empty interior–much like the cathedral in Florence, I think.

The Rose window from the inside.  I suppose if we’d been on a tour, they would have turned on all the lights to illuminate ceilings.  I’ve seen some of these photos on the web, but we take our sights as they come to us.

Frescos in the side chapel, dating from the Renaissance, about the 1300s according to some websites.

Looking across the transcept.

Walking down another street, this is the view from below of the backside of the cathedral.

And back around the other side. We know the car’s meter is about up, so we head over to the car park plaza.

I’m a sucker for a good cobblestone alley; this is walking away from the Duomo.

It’s that interesting building again.

With a church across and a woman selling herbs and vegetables under her green striped umbrella.

Remodeling, Roman/Etruscan style.

Car’s packed, and we’re ready to go.

Hard-won Tips from our Trip

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Prince Edward Island

Don’t go on a rainy day if you can help it, and DON”T stay in Georgetown.  Linger near the bigger populations centers if you are a tourist, as you don’t have the luxury of a fixing a meal in your own kitchen.  I think of PEI as sort of one of those places where you’d rent a cottage on the shore, pack up an extra suitcase full of books, and lay around recovering from the rat race.  I also think we were more worried about lodging than we needed to be.  If you have a car, hit the Tourist Office and let them help you book a place.  Risky, but maybe less risky than what we did.

Although it doesn’t look like a big place, the travel on the roads is slower, so leave yourself enough time to get places.  I also enjoyed the ferry ride, but if the bridge drive had been on a sunny day, I may have enjoyed that too.

Nova Scotia

Favorite place, hands down: Cape Breton.  Why? Certainly our bed and breakfast in Mabou had something to do with it, but I also like the idea that there’s this sense of pride in craftmanship and music and that you can find both, easily.  Make sure you hit a ceilidh (“kay-lee”), which in the loosest sense is just a community gathering.  Ours was on a Tuesday, and was a little more formal.  I wanted something a little more random, a little wilder, but we were too early in the season, I think.

Cabot Trail is lovely, but sparsely populated.  You can find eats and drink on the way–but as usual the prices are a bit high.  We stopped at a grocery store and picked up bread and ham and a package of oat shortbread cookies that we munched on all week.  Try to have some flexibility to time your drive to the weather–hard to do, I know.  I think that’s why it’s so popular with RV-ers, who seem to be more flexible.  Baddeck is a good base because you could go either forwards or backwards around the trail.  Consult the web for people’s preferences.  We went eastward, and it was fine (clockwise).

There’s basically only one way in and one way out of Cape Breton Island, and the average time from Baddeck to Halifax airport is about 3 and 1/2 hours.

Halifax Area
Skip Prospect, in spite of what the Lonely Planet guidebook tells you.

Avoid going to Peggy’s Cove on a day when there is going to be a cruise ship in town (check with the  harbor-front Tourist Office–they seemed to know and were VERY helpful in so many ways).  It’s a small place.

Do your homework, because even if the Tourist Office is very helpful, you don’t always know what questions to ask.  I found out only later, when we were home, about the large memorial to the victims of the Halifax Explosion.  I would have liked to have seen it.  The movie we watched to get a sense of it is available on Netflix: “Shattered City: The Halifax Explosion.”  I recommend it.

If you are not a gift shop enthusiast, be aware that this is one of the main things to do in both Mahone Bay and Lunenburg.  They have a good network of art galleries in Lunenburg that you can visit, but also keep in mind that you are not in New York or San Francisco.  The quality of the gallery art will vary, but I do think it is a good way to get into the local scene.

Approach Halifax like you would explorations in a big city: break it down by neighborhoods and enjoy those.  Take some time in the Public Gardens.  I wish we’d gone to the Citadel as well, but didn’t leave time for it.

Montreal
To get from the airport to your hotel, buy a pass at the Tourist Office in the airport, or if they are closed, head to the Change place (that’s what we did).  The ride from the airport on a 747 Express Bus is quick, runs 24-7 and costs as much as a one-day pass that’s good on all the Metros and busses, so we bought that.  We actually bought a three-day pass for $14 dollars, then another one-day pass ($7) for our last day.  We ended up giving our passes to a couple of tourists who were trying to head to Montreal for the day.

There’s a very good map that when opened has been folded so that only certain sections of the city are visible–and it’s labeled really well on the edges–kind of like tabs.  It’s called “Official Tourist Map” and worth trying to get (we snagged ours at the airport).  We also made a lot of use of Frommer’s Montreal Day by Day (ISBN 9780470507346) as it was small, tote-able and well-organized with a good metro map and a good map of the main area of Montreal.

This is a Big City.  Harder to access than would be a European city, but I must admit finding good food helped a lot.  The Old Town has its charms, but it does not remind me of a European city (sorry).  If the weather permits, walk around.  We found more things that way that we enjoyed (eg: Suite 88 chocolate shop). If the weather doesn’t permit, head to the Underground.  We didn’t leave very much time for that, and it is a city all by itself.

Hit a mass at the Notre-Dame Basilica, when you can see the church AND hear the organ.  We opted for Vespers at the Anglican and while it was lovely, it was a quieter experience and all in French. (While my husband speaks French, I don’t.)

Leave time for a tour of the Chapelle Notre Dame de  Bonsecours and their museum, heading to the top of the tower for good views of the St. Lawrence river.

Have fun!