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...

.

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!

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 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!

Ahh the Vin Chaud

Well, apparently, it is an acquired taste.  Vin Chaud is a taste of hot red wine with a splash of cognac, usually a drink for winter occasions, such as Navidad.  When last in France, I toured several plazas, most often near the Hotel de Ville is the Navidad display of shoppes.  There are food vendors as well as sellers of wares, such as scarves and toys.  On this night, Patrick and I elected to go to the tourist dinner spot.  The dinner was so so, but the market was fun and the night was cool and we had a good walk.

Back to the Avignon tour.

Notre Dame Avignon

From Ile De LA Barthelassee

Dusk is upon us on the Rhone

The day is over, yet there is so much untold.  Family discussions, tour directions, street debates, sights too detailed to describe.

And yet, there is nothing normal about an American family touring the lovely sights of Avignon.  Squabbling or not, most Americans never see the centuries old buildings or the Rhone.  They do  appreciate the hot water limitation or carrying your trash out every day.  They do know the limitations of the city roads.And they do know how much a taxi is over a metro ticket.

It is the same here.  Though we haven't talked to any farmers, I am sure you would hear the price of gas or replacement parts.  The city folks are smoking on the doorsteps and waiting for the metro to get where they live far away from the city center.

But here, there are no tips.  People have healthcare.  They have a living wage.  Not an impressive one, just one to have a roof and food. We have seen several homeless and we have seen beggars.  We have also seen the scams and that is another issue to address. Bur for the most part, the streets are clean (except for the dog stuff which is an issue all its own).  People feel safe around the streets, I know I did.

And the trip is what it is supposed to be: a vacation of the brain from the metronome of everyday life.  Patrick said to me, " Mom, it is nice to see you in a different space and relaxed,"   and he said I was not so paced and wound up.

The funny part is that he told me what he does not like about Europe is how laid back it is.... hmm seems like there is a contradiction somewhere.

of the #FSU Valencia Tour and the Torres de Serranos

The last days of Patrick's classes were spent going out with his friends and saying good bye to his Valencia apartment mates.  He said it was emotional for some, and I am sure that it is.  Meeting new friends and then saying goodbye... the way life's memories are built.

We woke bright and early, 9:00 a.m. and slowly headed to the laundromat as the washer here is broken.  The landlord graciously left us 20 euros to do the wash.  It only cost us 5, but then we had to add in the cafe and pastry!  Watching the machine go around was not Charles' thing, so he stepped outside to watch traffic and large trucks maneuvering street designed for donkey carts.  He was asked to help stop traffic which he gladly did.  Charles loves to pitch in and help.  Once the round and round halted, we loaded it up in plastic bags and headed to the apartment to dry our clothes Valencia style.  Carefully leaning out, Charles clipped our clothes to the wires on the outside of our third floor window.  His will dry funny as the cuffs are side up.  He hasn't done this in a while!  I proudly observed our colors hanging out as the neighbors' all were displayed as well.  It is our own little flag in the dirt stake in Valencia.

Then, off to meet Patrick at FSU Valencia!  The sign at the door is very small and not noticeable.  The inside proudly displayed one NOLES logo, but I think for the most part it is quite distinct from the Tallahassee campus displays.  It is much more subdued and less in your face.

The building is completely redone, but as it sits ten yards from the Torres de Serranos,  It has old walls (It is considered one of Valencia's most iconic buildings and is one of the best conserved monuments in the city. The Torres de Serranos were built in the 14th century, 1392, by Pere Balaguer. It was the main entrance of the city and it was originally build with a defensive function. From 1586 until 1887 the towers were used as a prison for nobles. thank you wikipedia) and round rock pools where many eons ago, hides were tanned and cloth was bleached.

drainage system for the Torres

I took the photo of my men on the stairs

Manly men shot arrows through the slots.

Charles and the King of Bats

 It is an interesting dynamic to an otherwise very American style student center.  We met the Director of the #FSU program who was very pleasant and gave us some tips on the program.  We toured the facility, then off to the Torres (tower) and a walk through the area to see the sights and have a menu de dia (quite a big lunch).

Patrick walked us to the center of his local Plaza, the Plaza of the Virgin,  The Basilica and the Cathedral were both beautiful.  I only took photos of the outside as I find it discomforting to photograph the inside.  There are many photos on line I am sure.

We then walked back to his apartment, picked up his things and headed back to our abode.  With promises of a bus ride to the beach, I relented and let them take a siesta.  Two hours later, I walked to the store alone, afraid darkness would impede even that effort.  The men were still asleep when I returned.  Charles woke up in time to take me to get a glass of wine and a loaf of bread for dinner and then we returned.

I cooked the local crops, using the eggplant, parsley, onion, garlic, and tomatoes of the market.  We had prawns ( not plums) from the pescado mercado, and then the mushrooms sauteed with garlic and the Italian vegetable mix.  It was fabuloso!  Loved it all.  Charles and i slipped out for a last glass of vino tinto on the carrer at gond wana.   It is our little local bistro!  Wish we had such markets and neighborhood spaces back in North Florida.  Can't wait to get to France tomorrow. First, Avignon, then Lyon.  Fare well my friends and write to you from France!