rising to a tour day of Palermo and realizing how fun it can be

Today started out with a little plan, walk to the local monuments and then take a bus to Monreale.  Indeed, the best laid plans of mice, men and travelers in Palermo.

We took off left, towards the Cathedral and the Porto Nuovo.  North, I think.  (Turns out, North is to the water, and we were walking away from the water.)  We were on hoof and stopped at the patisserie across from the Cathedral. Cattedrale.  An espresso and a cappuccino, three pastries later and we were good to go.  The cathedral is surrounded by a garden and sort of it's own piazza.  We saunter across the gardens and into the church.  An incredibly large and combination byzantine and Norman architecture, it rises above and towers over every other thing in the city.    We entered into the Catthedrale, thinking it would be a long chute, just like every other church.  Instead, it is an overwhelming entrance into the "Walter of the Mill" church.  Walter commissioned the Cathedral to be his power base.  Unfortunately, it took centuries to complete.  And Walter lost to the the glories of William the second in Monreale.  Poor Walter, I don't even think he lived long enough to know he was out done.

I think this is all for the Madonna

the saints are depicted on the columns of the church.  My mother was confirmed after Saint Olivia

 Strolling the the cathedral, I don't take photos very lightly.  First, I am catholic, and feel like I should be genuflecting at every turn, second because I can't find the holy water.  There are turns every 30 feet for a new alter and a new dead leader of the church.  The latest is still in the very new tomb for show.  Ted's translation is that the cardinal was killed by the mafia and now is up for sainthood.  In spite of one's beliefs, the church, the Catholic Church, if you were raised in it, still holds an unbelievable power and mystery.

There is another tour, one for money, that lets you into the crypts and the roof.  Corbett wanted to be on the roof, but Ted could not do it.  I said I would.  I cannot tell you which one made me more weak, but I am so glad that Corbett was with me.  First, we paid our seven euros, then descended down to the treasury and the vaults and the crypts.  The treasuries were much like those of France.  Each pope, cardinal and bishop commissions a ring, a pen, a pin, a vesture ornament, a hat - all filled with jewels.  The wealth of the Cathedralle is amazing.  Elizabeth Taylor has nothing on these guys.  The interesting thing is  the rings all look like they are for very fat fingers, but the bodies outlined on the crypts are small and thin.  When we descended down to the crypt, I cannot lie, I had to do the sign of the cross twice.  Once for me and once for Corbett.  Ted stayed above ground.  I started getting creeped out, then we got to the pope that had his image on top of the crypt.  He had a leg cocked up, showing all his wares, his head on his elbow, a book in his hand, his sword and helmet beside him.  He could not have looked more comfortable.  I, on the other hand, started realizing how far beneath the street I was and needed to escape quickly.  While waiting for Corbett to come up the stairs, I took photos of the ceiling, which I am guessing was a good 75 feet above me.

looking up from the crypt entrance.

The last of the tour is the trip to the roof.  And they mean the roof.  You climb 110 steps in a very tiny spiral staircase to the roof. Once there, a person directs you to the walkway.  The alternative is a step on the tiled roof and then the ground 150 feet below.   Management  changed the pitch of the roof to a flat walkway 3 feet wide with flexible iron handled rails across the top.  The walk on the roof was fine, mostly as I was winded from the climb.  When we got to the dome, 75 feet along, my blood was back and so was my imbalance.  I clung to a corner which you see between the corners of this dome picture.  I encouraged Corbett to take photos, not realizing he would actually do it.  He went off and my back was plastered against the dome, slightly above the little minuet spires.  Corbett finally came back and we started again across the roof.  This time I held his shirt as if my life depended on it.  That is because it did!. He was mostly kind, but did stop to take another panoramic (really!!!) while were on the way back to the tiny spiral staircase.

Luckily on the way down there were two little boys talking behind me.  I don't speak Italian, but when they started counting: ono, due, tre, sounded so familiar!  So they counted in Italian, and I counted in French.  It was all fine till they got to novanta, and I had to switch to quatre vingt dix.   I realized they keep counting in tens and I had to switch to four twenties and a ten.  No matter, mil a onse and we are down!  I am no longer hostage to the depths or heights of the cathedral!  

It is truly beautiful and the treasury of the church is filled with riches beyond  belief.  It is amazing the jewels summoned by the reigning catholic official.  I don't know that I would recommend you come to Palermo for this, but if you do come to Palermo, please see this.  I leave the roof trip up to you, especially if you don't bring your own Corbett.

Tis the largest church we have been in since Rome

We left the church and went through the Porto Nuova which is an arch welcoming one to the city.

 We decided to try and go to Monreale Mountain, but it was closed by the clouds.  Then we walked to the piazza Indipendenza.     There we caught a tourist bus around the city.  It was a fun open top, we never do this tour.  We learned where the opera's were and the history of the city piazzas.  We saw places we might not have walked to like Teatro Politeama.  We jumped off at the Fountain of Shame.  Which in my opinion, the only shame is the painting and graffiti on the sides of the monuments.

Fountain of  shame

If I haven't lost you by now, the next adventure is to the  Teatro Massimo.  We eat at a local cafe and then look at the theater which is the third largest in Europe.  The stairs have a nun mystery to them that involves the second step.  But to learn about it cost euros and we decide we have learned quite enough from nuns already.  there is a place that reminds me of my husband near the front door.

Lastly, I want to go to the Carrefour, which for anyone who hasn't been to Publix, is the Europe equivalent.  So I am sure that I know where it is, as google is in my hand and two men are following me.  We get to a juncture and one of my party says left, and I say google says right and we make a giant circle to the place where we were before.  And then I must acquiesce the google to the map and we arrive before google says we will.

Wine, cheese and  Limoncello gifts later, we are walking back to our splendid apartment.  How nice to have three bathrooms!  Until tomorrow, Ciao!

The second day of Valencia

The mercado of our little area called Rufaza is the most impressive agricultural thing we have seen.  It was like going to the county fair and seeing every booth selling food.  Olives, onions, fish, pork, vegetables in mounds and separated into today's and the discount yesterday piles.  An amazing arrangement of freshness and almost reverence of food.  People are careful as two euros here and there will quickly add up.  And many of the people here buy daily or every other day to have the best ingredients at the cheapest cost.

Just down the street is an American store, complete with Rice Crispies and Cocoa Puffs.  I did not see Twinkies, but I sure thought about it.  They did not have SPAM, but I am sure that I saw deviled ham cans.  Juxtaposition comes to mind.

Did you know that the Europeans do not refrigerate eggs?  Look in the freezer and you will look for hours.  They are on the shelf next to the other weekly deliveries.  Nor do they stuff the chickens with anti-biotics and totally unexpected, they chop them (your chicken) in front of you.  After walking isle after isle of varying green lettuces, herbs, striped purple eggplants, reddish/green tomatoes bigger than your fist, olives of every sort and color, jamon or hams and sausages, cheeses and pastries, we entered the pesca mercado.  Oh my goodness, the fish and shrimp of the world are here.  The colors of pink and deep oranges and whiter than white fillets.   Huge fish heads set upright on the ice to identify the fillets below.

The salmon and pink trouts of the Alaska waters on the ice as well.  Charles walked the aisles torturing the vendors as he wasn't looking to buy, he was looking to compare to Florida fish. We walked and walked looking at cuddle fish and squid that fill a bucket.  The variety, the complexity, the opportunity to choose is amazing.  I am sorry that I could not take pictures for you.  The vendors do not like their photos taken.  And yet down the street is the market that puts these fine offerings in little plastic packages to make it convenient to shop.  The local Winn-Dixie or Publix if you will.  I regret only my choice of leather footwear for the day.

No wonder Spain is a retirement destination.  For three euros you can make a healthy meal and live two blocks from the Mercado and fifteen blocks from the waters that feed you!

Back at the apartment to put away the purchase of tomato, eggplant, onion, pepper, garlic, parsley, more prawns and wine.  Perfect beginning to a meal than will be made tonight.  Or that was the plan.  We take a quick siesta, or at least I do.  Charles sleeps in the other room as the technica has come to fix the hot water.  A new nozzle installed, I awake my prince and we decide to head to the Palicio Magnifico.  Charles picks it for the name.  Turns out is is the local courthouse.

We are heading that direction and Charles is still talking about paella so we head to look at restaurants and we finally settle on El Palacio de la Bellota very near Charles' chosen palacio.  The waiter turns out to have a mother from Kansas and speaks English with ease.  He is so sweet that we go in.  One glass of wine and a plate of traditional Valencia paella with rabbit and chicken later, we are stuffed.  Had I been with girlfriends, we would have stayed and drank wine and talked about Kansas, but Charles doesn't really want to linger in bars or hang around longer than needed.  There is such a big difference in the European way of eating, visiting and lingering and the American fast food mentality.  And maybe that of couple and girlfriends.  He thinks the $40 is expensive, oh what he doesn't know about eating out!  So spoiled by me cooking and buying the wine.

first bite

I did get him to wear a scarf with colors finally!

After the imbibing and the degustation, we head out in the cold for our long walk home to the Valencia apartment.  The bath is a bath, with a hand held shower, so it takes some adjustment for the spoiled Americanos who have it all.  We learn to conserve and do more with less and appreciate the smallness of our apartment, the completeness of our space and the limitations that come with luxury expectations.

The three flights of stairs are harder after dinner and the count of unmarked doors more challenging.  But back here in the night, thousands of miles from home, we are grateful for the opportunity.  And tomorrow, maybe we will see a different Valencia.  Buenas Noches, bonne nuit and good night.