of the immigration to Europe

The other night I had a dream which is haunting me.  Haunting me to ask if this is this is just a dream or a possible reality.  The dream was about a website, life vests, and immigrants.

Few photos are as disturbing as the ones we see of the immigrants landing on the Greek shores of Lesbos or the Italian shores in Palermo.

These people so desperate to leave their homes that they risk their lives in rickety boats and flimsy life vests.  The disbelief on their faces when they realize that they made it.  The joy of seeing their children on a new dry land.

The burden is huge and the number that arrive is incredible, overwhelming.  The discussion in the United States about the Mexican American border pales in reality.  Building a wall may be our discussion, but building a way to cope and accommodate is Angela Merkel 's responsibility and compassionate obligation.  Europe struggles to follow her lead and make room for all.

It is also affecting so many other countries.  refugees-and-life-jackets-fill-the-shops is an article from the New York Times reflecting on the life jacket sales in Turkey.  In Lesbos, it is another matter.  

"Since the beginning of the year, the number of refugees and migrants arriving here and on other Greek islands has surged to full-scale humanitarian-crisis levels. Arrivals by sea have surpassed 107,000 through July, according to United Nations figures, eclipsing even the numbers of people reaching Italy. Most of those who arrive on the shores of Lesbos, a popular tourist destination just off the coast of Turkey in the Aegean Sea, are fleeing the wars in Syria and Afghanistan and hoping to head deeper into Western Europe.  In June, 15,254 migrants and refugees arrived on Lesbos, according to the Greek Coast Guard, compared with 921 the same month last year.  But only squalor awaits them here. They arrive in a country that is deep in its own crisis, with an unemployment rate over 25 percent, banks not fully open and its government all but broke."

I have not seen this with my own eyes, but the photos are real, the photographers living in these moments are seeing it for me.

So, back to my dream.  What if, just what if, the life jackets that are so valuable on one side of the water could be valuable on the other side. 

What if we had an organization that was present when the people landed to take the jackets. What if they wrote a name or a phrase on the jacket that said how they felt making it across the water. The statement could be a brief thanks or a prayer or a name.

My dream was that the persons or organization could photograph the jackets. They could include the name of the person or their hands or a trinket or just a saying. The photo could be put on a website that allowed people to "adopt" the jacket before it is retired. The funds for the adoption could pay volunteers, local communities, and the immigrants.

This mess of jackets doesn't have to be the future.  Many people would be grateful to send $5 or $10 on social media to support the cause.  Families everywhere would gladly use their #VISA or #AMEX cards to pay the adoption fee.  Giant corporations like #VISA and #Mastercard could lend their support to the cause.  And somewhere there are brilliant programmers like #Anonymous that would help build a site for the process.  It was just a dream.  I woke up and it felt so real.  I don't know enough about #internationalrelief or #UNHCR or saving people.  I just know that life jackets are just that.  This pile and every other pile has done their job of protecting the person wearing it.

It just seems like we could make something more of it than an abandoned pile of the most risky event ever. It seems we could help Greece and Italy with the job they are doing. There are a plethora of volunteers on the shores that could also use the help. The WSJ article references many volunteers trying to raise money to go to Lesbos and help. They site that volunteers use is for individuals who want funding to go and help. Kickstarter is one. Very admirable.  I even considered this.  I would love to be a solid contributor.  I am not sure I would be.  I am not sure that getting money to go is the best use of the money.

But, I know that people want to connect.  Adopting something, like a life jacket, makes it yours; and even if it is a life jacket from a person, it will be a single person that risked their life that you can relate to on a one to one basis.

I can show you more pictures, but what I really want to know is if my dream is possible. I want to know if people that know me think it is real enough or if it was just a great dream.  I can find the resources, I can't find the hearts.

Let me know your thoughts.
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/05/29/travel/migrant-crisis-lesbos-greece.html?_r=0



and now the NYTs says this: 

of Bagheria Sicily, Italy

On our second to last day, we decide to follow a tour book.  Lonely Planet to be exact.  And since it is close and we have no other plans, we head out to the train station and catch a bus to Bagheria, Sicily.

Sounds rather exotic.  It is not.  It is 3 kilometers from the train station.  The signs direct you to the longest path possible, while the street turns right and would take you directly to the piazza of art on the bay.  This is the one thing to see in Bagheria.

Since we followed the signs, we walked 3 kilometers out of the way.  That is a lot of steps, in case you want to know.

fishing boats of Sicily

The signs eventually say Aspra, which is apparently the city within the City of Bagheria.  We walk though neighborhoods, rich and poor.  Sometimes feeling uneasy, sometimes bored.  Then, we pass a tower and the remnants of a the villa of a woman who died in 1118 and whose tomb is still maintained by the local officials.  The gardens have seen better days and the walls are crumbling around them.

The most interesting part of this trip is how the three of us handle the loser choice that was made to come here.  First, there was not much blame, other than it was my choice.  Second, we all judged the neighborhoods by the trash in the street.  Third, when the scenery is the same the entire walk, people get bored.  Fourth, when the walk is long, people bitch.  Uphill, downhill, whining.  Then, we see the sea!

This is Not Bagheria but I needed a picture so this is one of Palermo Bay

I have to commend my travel companions.  For they could have trashed me badly for picking something out of the book.  But they didn't.  They did make many comments on the scenery and the trash and the dog poop, which I might add is everywhere in large cities in Europe.

Watch where you step.  Watch how you hold your bag.  Words of wisdom no matter where you travel.

Anyway, we go  to the coast finally, and it is beautiful.  If we had not already seen the Amalfi Coast, it would be very beautiful.  But we had.  So ten minutes in, the guys are ready to leave, commenting on the trash in the water on the "beach" of rocks.  Trash is very apparent when there is no distraction...

Another metaphor for life...

And now home to cook.  We have spaghetti from egg noodles that are "fresh" and new sauce from the Carrefour.  We have antipasta of salami, buffalo mozzarella and olives.  We have fresh bread and olive oil.  We have wine and most important, we have the digestive.

Licorice liquor.  It is is like licorice jet fuel.  And we  love the two sips.  We leave the half bottle behind as a token of our affection for the island. And we take the recipe book of Sicily so that we can make new memories at home.

Ciao Ciao Palermo and Bagheria.  Ciao Ciao!

of returning to work and things you wish you didn't have to do and not wanting to think about it too soon

The last day in Palermo brings great angst.  Last night, I dreamt of being back at work and having to tell my boss something he might perceive as unpleasant.  It was intermittently interrupted by loud music and this weird electrical sound outside my window.  But I digress.  (turns out the local primary school is outside my window and the wind instruments are playing.)

Today, we toured the Teatro Massimo, the third largest theatre in all of Europe.  To my great disappointment, it was built in honor of Umberto Primo, who has a statute gracing every harbor everywhere,  His statute here is large and prominent, surrounded by arches of the porto and by the sea.  Imagine my surprise to hear that he is displeased by the great theatre built for him.  He says Palermo is nothing and does not deserve such a theatre, and he never sets foot inside.

you truly have to be here to appreciate the immenseness

this is the ceiling and the painting are window that open to increase accoustics

Poor Umberto Primo.  For such a lucky man of war, he was an unlucky man of taste.  But fortunately, Al Capone did step inside.  Godfather III was filmed in the theatre.  In Spite of either of these two, the theatre is amazing.  Stepping inside is incredible and now that I know the King's box is available ( Umberto made it a public affair), I will not hesitate to try and book the best.  We have missed the opera, ballet, and other performing arts all by a day.  Such a poor planner I am.  And there are no last minute stand up seats in these theatres.  No these are for the noble, or at least those who can pay.

And in the boys will always be boys category, there is this duo who find the visual behind them hilarious.  It doesn't matter, 28 or 68, they all still have boyish humor!  Enough said on that!

We take off to see another piazza, not previously explored.  This is the plebicita, the parliament of yore.  The locals call it the "Champs Elysee " of the island. Regardless, it is a fine building with horses charging as if they would leave the building for the drivers. Hooves above your head, with brass green blazing their legs.  Down below, standard breds (or the Italian equivalent) trot through the street with carts behind.  These horses almost blind with blinders (sorry for the horse take on this) and hats, stupid beyond belief.  The traffic booming around, these horse take of trotting forward, and tour buses beside them.  I told my son, I would rather be a French dish.  I apologize for my perspective.  My horses have acreage and only one rider to respond to.  Theses poor guys, must go forth regardless of traffic, weather, or noise.  These horses are fed.  They have shoes, with wooden plates, I might add.  It is just a luxury in the US and not here.

Shopping.  Well, yes the last day should be about shopping.  We leave the piazza and head to the one wine store that I liked.  It turns out not to be a wine store, but a souvenir store.  Matters not, we buy the limoncello for our friends.  We buy balsalmic vinegar for those who don't drink.  We buy candy for those we aren't sure of.  We are thinking of you, not being here with us. And, while I am happy I can buy this for you, next time, I want you to come with me.

the monument for those who died because of the Mafia

science fair in a church of the 10th century

a pope in front of the cathedralle

our view from the deck

our veiw from the patio

I am thankful for Michele, our host.  He was most kind and most helpful.

I miss my husband, glad my daughter came, glad my one son came and thinking Lindsay could have made it, and the rest of you, we just need to decide to go!  Patrick, you live up to your Saint name. Our next destination is only one year away...

.

Aww sweet Cefalu'

Woke up this morning and finally, finally felt like I was on vacation in Italy.  Young children shouting on their way to school, horns honking on their way to work, voices of mothers shouting in the piazza.  Water running through the pipes, and yes, wake up, its time to hit the train station and see lovely Cefalu'.

Cefalu' is pronounced Chef a loo, with emphasis on the loo.  It is a one hour train ride from Palermo.  The ride itself is beautiful as it clicks and clacks along the coastline, revealing hidden towns and bays.  Fishermen dot the sea horizon as we pass the small villages.  The water is remarkably flat and just as blue as the sea on the Amalfi Coast.  You can tell that once, maybe in the 1950's that this was a wonderful fishing village.  Now it is half fishing, half tourist - or maybe 80 percent tourism.

Corbett arrives in Cefalu'

the inlet in complete overcast with mountain cloud cover

The little village is snugged safely in the tiniest spot of real sand on this coast.  I love the colors of the houses and windows.  I am very thankful the day is not hot and the wind is not strong.  Rain had wetted the cobblestone streets and thankfully washed away the scent of dogs.  There is not a sacred corner in Italy, or perhaps they are all sacred.

With the wet, I gingerly tread the streets. I think we walk for at least a mile or so before deciding to stop and eat.  It wasn't great, but it was "classico".  How can you go wrong with pomodora and cheese, basil wrap with olive oil and oregano?  If you don't know what to order, order what they do well.  Wine menus often require you order the bottle. As we had miles to go, I had a Beck birre instead.

Off touring again.  We walk the streets and look at the views.  There is a monument to WWI soldiers.  Our first stop in the village.

 We trudge onward and find the port and the little cay or inlet.  The scenery is breathtaking.  One can envision the summer tourist invasion on this tiny town.  I am very happy to be here in November.

 The few tourists that are here, are European or Asian.  We run into very few Americans, which were so common in Napoli (Naples).  The shop keepers here run from the ice man who says nothing, to the lady at Helios that explains what matapalo is, which is really marzipan.  Corbett bought the bright colored fruit and was disappointed to find the almond paste as the center of the brightly colored fruits.  Turns out these are pastry that monks made to keep funds coming into their abbeys.  I liked them, but a tiny bit goes a long way.  Speaking of a tiny bit, I am a big fan of the local "digestive" which means a spirited shot usually  The shot of digestive for Sicily is Tutone Anice Unico.  A product of Palermo.  It tastes like licorice on fire.  Which at first sip - I do mean tiny sip - is a little alarming.  A full shot takes about a half hour to consume, at least for us Tallahasseeans...  I love licorice, so I was all in for the bottle.  It's a small bottle.  And it will most likely have some in it for the next guest.

Cefalu'

The train ride back was funny as a Swedish couple sat across from us.  The only thing they understood on the train was English instructions, just as we do.  When we leave the train terminal, we all exit crossing the street in front of the station which is a large circle of roaring vehicles. Buses, cars scooters.  Her husband darts out and goes half way turning to look for her.  She runs back and stands with us.  Then, there are enough of us to barge out to the road.  We cross and her husband is gleeful and he says, " It is so exciting!"  and she and I agree, only for men.  We try to find the grocery, but give up after our long day.  The night has descended and warnings of purse snatchers and thieves send us back to our lovely apartment.  Three bathrooms, one for each person!  Lovely.

Tomorrow is Monreale, a trip up the mountains to see a duomo.  A lovely day all in all.

Rising to Capri

We stayed up late trying ot book charters to Capri, an island off the Napoli Coast.  Corbett and I finally gave up and pronounced to Ted that we had to go in person.

We did and we made it!

But first, we kill an hour in a different part of Napoli.  We have a cappuccino and Corbett has a cheesecake and an orange Fanta.  We watch the students, mothers and business people cross and recross the piazza.  A very nice spot except for the cigarettes.  The outdoors is always full of smokers.

Eleven comes and we are on the fast "jet" to Capri.  It is really a giant catamaran to the island.  Forty Five minutes total.  We get off the boat and try and orient.  Then I see the funicolare.  Love those.  Up and up and Ted not feeling the love so much.  Heights he says.  But aww the view.

I don't have photos of this, but the buses and the trucks and the cars and the anything else traveling on the road of Capri are truly the bravest and most technical people I can think of.  Today, the buses were so close that we felt the breath of the other riders.  Ted said there was an extra three inches, but I did not see it.  And on our right, the cliff straight down.  Look across the photo above and imagine driving around the rocky protrusions.  The drivers inching forward, squeezing busses into fiat size streets, mirrors in, people gasping, and me - I am sure that I tried to suck my belly into my lungs to help the cause.  And even then, with no buses coming, the roads sidle the edge and the lady next to me is doing the sign of the cross (a catholic thing).  Her boyfriend tries to comfort her and I tell Ted, there are worse ways to die.  And then the experience is in the past, as we are out on the streets and taking in the island views.

In case you are wondering, men from America act like men from America even in Italy.  "Do you know where you are going?"  "of course!"  Do you want to look at a map?  "Well that is inconvenient, but if you insist."  Should I ask someone for directions, Ted says?  Well yes.  And then we turn 180 and head up the hill not down the hill.

 Nope, no directions needed at all, why do you ask?

Ana Capri

We walk the top of the island.  One of the tourist offering is a lift up the mountain in single chairs, like a ski lift.   Ted does not want to ride the swinging chairs up the mountain as the clouds are covering the top.  I am sure he just doesn't want to ride the solo swinging chairs.  He is accompanied by a woman from New Hampshire, saying "no way!"  Ted offers to stay and have a beer with her while the rest of us go up.  But we decide to keep walking.  We have to be back at the port by four thirty and Ted is worried about time.  We take a short cut through the town, following the lovely Italian ladies below.  The view is the perfect ending to another day in paradise as we are told boarding our catamaran back to Napoli.  But if I ever come back, the swinging chairs for me!

A perfect end to the day indeed.

to the day of taking it easy

After much wine and the home made dinner, we all made our way to bed.  Memories of the day float in our heads.  Such lovely images of the coast.

Morgan taunting the guide as he begs her to get down on our side of the wall

Amalfi Coast

On the church steps

Morgan is first to wake as she is leaving today.  The week went by too fast when I think of her departing.  I am glad that we had the chance to do the very expensive tour before she left.  I am not sure when she will be back here.

Ted and I get up and walk her to the bus stop.  Corbett paid 50 euro to get to the apartment by cab and she was having none of it.  She hopped the bus and off she went.  We walked back past the port and all the cruise ships that park there.  It was early so not too many people out.  We gave her a cappuccino and a pastry before she left, so hopefully, it will last until she gets the tasty airplane food. :?

When we return, we sit around, eat some light fare.  Ted wants to take a nap, so Corbett and I wander off and explore the port.  We see Umberto Primo, the statute and the king.  What an imposing figure and he is everywhere that guy!  We walk past monuments and arches.

The stroll bayside is so relaxing.  It is dotted with selfie stick salespersons and fake designer handbag sellers.  But overall, the view is incredible enough to look past that annoyance.  They have to eat too.  And I think they really target the cruiseline folks coming off the ships like ants on the march.

Rotary Club Monument

Corbett at Napoli Bay

We stroll back and get Ted, who is waking from his nap.  We decide to go to the castle, Museo Civico Castel Nuovo.  It is inviting with real castle features and tons of 14th century catholic or christian art.  Some are lovely, most are dark and forbearing.  It is like an artistic punishment of all doings of all mankind, then one shred of sanctity and light, but you can't ever quite reach it.

A little heavy I know.  But I was raised catholic and I know the weight of these paintings in both historic value and guilt of generations.  I also know that the painters did not live like the popes. 

We wander into a room with clear floors, so that you can see the tunnels and walls beneath.  This is the same flooring that was in Patrick's classes in FSU Valencia, Spain.  You can see all the excavation and preservation.There are what appear to be bones and skeletons in the sand.  But, they turn out to be cardboard.  Regardless, Ted and Corbett take great joy in making fun of me walking only on the beams, as I am sure the plexiglass will not hold me.  They leave the room chuckling at my insecurity!

 Ted and Corbett are consumed with the artillery and the remnant of boats.  I wait in a not very clean blue, soft chair near a balcony.  I can't complain, because that is the Napoli Bay.  And I am here.  And that is Mount Vesuvius.

And not to sound ungrateful, but I wish Charles and Morgan and Patrick were with me.

of the double booking

Napoli  is a city of wonders.  Lots to see just on the ride in from the airport. Our first day, I booked a tour of the Amalfi Coast.  It is supposed to be one of the world's most beautiful coastlines.  Our driver arrived promptly at nine a.m. to pick us up.

Our other driver arrived promptly too.  Rut Ro.

I am not a big fan of tours and guides.  I love tromping off, as my daughter says, in no direction. But in this case, I am so happy I booked an Amalfi Tour.  In fact, I am so happy, I booked it twice.

So the day begins and I am all over getting people up to to get ready for the tour.  I get downstairs and two men are making phone debates about who is in charge.  They are arguing and then I get my party downstairs.

I think I am emailing the same person, but not true, I am emailing two and they both show and want to be paid.  We are really good sports or suckers, depending how one views it.  We  pay driver two to go away... and then half way through the tour, we're thinking the driver and think we should have had him go the whole way driving two of us since he insisted on the full fare! The only way out is to pay, so pay we did.  A very expensive tour and lesson, but worth it!  Oh and we picked the handsome guide since we had a choice.

our first view of the whole Napoli Bay

My two lovely adult children 

We stopped often to take photos on the winding narrow road of the coastline.  We could not have picked a better day for weather and clarity.  The sea is the bluest teal you will ever see.  It is deep and it is very clear.  We stop at edges just to look out and see the lovely skylines.  The photos above are taken with the phone, so they do not do any justice to the wonder.

The ride to the cities is in a new silver van and is very comfortable, even more so if you don't have to drive.  Salvetore drives efficiently and it is best not to look.  There are mirrors on all of the curves so you can see who is proceeding before you or at you.  The water takes your breath away and then you arrive at a little city like Amalfi or Positano.  The houses emerging from the hillside and every inch of soil planted with lemons or olives.  Tiny little patches house a few sheep or some milk cows.  The land is terraced and houses are tucked in every available space there is.

The beach is rocky, smooth rocks, but rocks nonetheless.  The water takes on the dark hue of the sand on the shoreline.  It is "fresh" says Salvatore.  He tells us this is the perfect time of year.  The tourists are gone, it is all Saints Day and many stores are closed, but the weather is perfect.  72 degrees.  I daresay we are blessed.

toes in the mediterranean

And of course it could not be a complete tour with out the tunnels and the art on the hillside overlooking the treasures that lie before us.  The day got immensely better when we went to the lunch where this adorable little Italian Lady who looks like every Italian grandmother you know has flowers in her hair, a smile on her face and she is ready to tell us what to eat.  Morgan has the pizza and does not finish it all.  The Lady picks up the plate, puts in in front of Corbett and tell him to eat it.  She was great.  And he obliges as if he had an option.

We finally head to the piazza and have a campari, which no one likes but me.  Beers for the others.  We take a final look at the town and know that our very expensive tour is coming to a close.  We get back to our lovely apartment and make dinner and have fun conversations about the abundance of selfie sticks and how every tour group is bombarded by selfie stick sellers.  Make for interesting entertainment watching how people learn to say no.  Oh yes, and one more.  The street vendors catch the cars at red lights and run around with kleenex on the mirror.  The kleenex is a six pack of little kleenex.  As the light heads for green, they run around and take them back if you do not purchase.  Our guide says this is effective in winter time.  Perhaps a future retirement job for me!

Rising to the Rising Sun (and son)

Last day in Rome and we are packing up for the departure.  With a little extra time we saunter one last time to our favorite cafe and imbibe in cappuccinos and pastry.  Morgan always gets something with powdered sugar.  Ted is a fan of custard and pastry.

I am delighted that they sell a type of savory pizza for breakfast.  I pick a new one that is simply pastry with tomato brush.  Delightful.

We try to get money unsuccessfully at the ATM.  Our cards are not sufficient the machines say.  I would take it personally.  All our cards fail, except for Morgans.  The one with the least latitude in expendable funds.  How that keeps one humble!

Our train trip was quite pleasant.  Morgan and Ted promptly fall asleep.  We are on the fast train to Napoli (Naples).  The city gives way to countryside and farms swell to the base of the mountains on either side of the train.  Dirty sheep dot the hillsides in pens - four legged woolen dots as we swoosh past.

Freshly plowed fields await the winter crops and creeks run back and forth along the route.

A very odd American sits talking to his companion about how different Italy is from Germany.  His soft stature makes me think he is a desk jockey of some type.  He points out the solar farms as well pass.  My travel partners have long since left consciousness and nap to our destination.  They are missing the pastoral views that inspired great artists over many centuries. I will sleep tonite, but for now, I want to capture the scenery in my memory and on this page..  The announcer says we are traveling at 293 km/h.  Sounds as if we will arrive soon.

Let the harrowing taxi ride begin!  You have not lived until you have ridden in a taxi in Rome or Naples.  This one was particularly fun as the police kept closing streets as we drove, missed corners, backed up in  a one lane alley and turned around, dodged many scooters and had narrow misses at every turn.  For your entertainment I will post it on youtube Napoli Taxi

When we finally arrived,  we were early, so we went to have a cappuccino.  I walked down the street to see if Rosa had arrived and she did.  She showed us the lovely apartment.  She grew up in this apartment and it was her mothers.  It is from the 18th century and she believes it was a convent at one time.  We are a short walk to Teatro San Carlo.  We are 100 feet from the large Cathedral in the piazza.  A special plus if you like bells.

Morgan and I are ready to give up on my son Corbett, who was supposed to arrive at noon.  Just as we are heading out, he comes in the door, bedraggled but fine.  We drop his things and head to Brandi' for pizza.  The best we are told.

selfies

And then the food arrives and it makes up all better.  Broccoli leaves and mozzarella for Corbett and Morgan.  Ted gets anchovies.  I get salad.  There is enough to share.  Giggles and grins, and fun with a waiter who asks Corbett for his American change.  Corbett hands him the change then gives him a one dollar bill and a five dollar bill.  "All the American money I have, " he declares.  The waiter tells him that he loves him.

I wait till we are at the bottom of the hill to tell him that the waiter says that to every American.

Tomorrow we are off to the Amalfi Coast to see the cliffs and the waterside towns.  Can't wait!