Our Italian Adventure

La Nostra Avventura Italiana

Chili Parlor Art - Italian Style

And now for something completely different...

Back in the late '70s, Vicki and I were grad students in Austin, Texas. We would often take a break from our work to grab dinner at the Texas Chili Parlor near campus. (I know what some of you are thinking...usually we were there all night drinking Magnums with friends. True.) On the more quiet occasions, however, I would sometimes draw a picture for Vicki on a napkin using a ball-point pen, just a simple sketch of something on the table or at the bar. The technique is as follows: lacking any training and with no fear of failure you put your pen on paper and draw with minimal preparation or planning and, once begun, the paper should be filled quickly. With little talent for straight lines or perspective but lots of line shading these drawings developed a distinctive style that we both grew to like (at least Vicki said she liked them). Ecco, Chili Parlor Art.

On recent vacations I had the grand idea of recording parts of the trip with drawings. I kept wondering, would you have a different perspective and recollections of the travel if you tried this? But I became too caught-up in whether the pictures were any good, so they took too long and I drew too little. This year, during our Italian Adventure, I decided to revive the Chili Parlor art-form and determined to do one sketch each day always remembering the two keys...fast and without fear.

While Vicki blogged (new school), I sketched (old school). Now, I invite you to have a look at the resulting seventeen pictures as my contribution to the blog.

Can childish drawings be art? Well, I considered my childish Italian to be a foreign language. And, for the record, doing both was immensely satisfying and contributed to "il spirito del viaggio". Perhaps these postings try to make too much out of some lame drawings...

...it's the internet, that's what it's for.

(1) We are going to Italy, but we wait in Toronto (2) We arrived in Florence (southern view off the sun porch) (3) We are living in a little tower (interior of our turret bedroom) (4) No Comment (5) Tourist tools in Italy (6) How sad (it's how we stayed connected) (7) Mosaic floor of the Basilica in Siena (8) Two arches with doors - Pitti Palace (9) A garden on the terrace at our hotel - Monterosso al Mare (10) A good trip (tickets for the Cinque Terre mini-adventure) (11) Motorscooter - Italians prefer them (12) A genuine black leather jacket (which I now own) (13) Dinner - we've finished (14) Ancient Rome (we arrived) (15) A statue of Pope Pius X (patron saint of the family church in Norfolk) (16) The Roman Forum (17) Near Trevi Fountain - Goodbye, Italy!

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Rome

We spent our first afternoon in Rome walking to St. Peter's Square and going through the basilica. It is truly immense. I think all the other churches we have seen could fit inside it at one time. I had been inside years ago, and what I took most from that visit was the tiled walls. But they were even more beautiful than I remembered. And the ceilings, and the floors! All stunning. We took so long inside that we got to the Vatican Museum 10 minutes too late to get in line, so the Sistine Chapel must wait for our return. Rome is littered with the detritus of antiquity; columns pop up out of back yards, archeological sites and cordoned off areas are seemingly every other block. Thousands of years have to be accounted for. My fondest wish remains a time machine.

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I suppose when you travel you should expect the unexpected. Our plan for Saturday was the Forum, the Palatine Hill, and the Colosseum. We got to the gate at the Palatine Hill but it was locked, as was the gate into the Forum. No indication of why, no one around to explain. Tons of people milled about wondering what was happening. Tour buses disgorged the hordes of badge-wearing glassy-eyed tourists, but no one got inside the gates.

It turned out that Rome was in lock-down mode. Police and military types were everywhere, just waiting around. We finally asked one of the police who told us of the coming demonstrations that day by “gli indignati” - the indignants. The protest against bankers was supposed to be large and peaceful, but it turned into a huge mob of thousands that was violent at times, clashing with police, setting cars and buildings on fire, throwing rocks and other objects, and receiving hose downs from water cannons and retaliation from the police. Much of it occurred around us, in the city center, as we executed Plan B; walking from the Colosseum to the Spanish Steps, Trevi Fountain, Pantheon, and Piazza Navona. Our route took us by the Senate (lots of police there), the city offices (ditto), the ritzy shopping streets, and the historical sites that were the scenes of much of the violence. We never saw it. We did see five protestors with three banners parade by the crowd at the Trevi Fountain, but that was it. In fact, we were “the indignants” thinking, “you're kidding, they locked us out for this pathetic excuse of a protest??” We were stunned when we saw the coverage on the news when we returned to our hotel. We can't imagine how we missed it.

So there were hordes of tourists milling about the places we went, I guess because no one could get into the historical sites or museums. We really enjoyed Piazza Novana, wandering through the artists and talking to them about their work. As we were leaving a musical group set up, and what do you know, there we were swing dancing to a saxaphone again. We attracted quite a crowd, many of them taking pictures, as we managed to jitterbug and Lindy Hop with backpacks on (we even got some “oohs” when Paul tossed me out of a hip dip). Such a hoot! Dancing as the sun set in the Piazza Navona; what a great introduction to Rome!

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Sunday all sites were open so we executed Plan A from the day before. Walking in the Forum was such an other-worldy experience, you could picture it 2000 years ago. It was good to be reminded that the Forum at that time wasn't the white dusty monochromatic scene it is now, but that the frescoes, walls and columns were often painted bright colors. The Palatine Hill, where the wealthy Romans lived overlooking the Forum, was remarkable, and the Colosseum was also. I'm not exactly sure how we managed to avoid lines at all three, but we did; we never had to wait to get in. We had a wonderful last Italian dinner in a little trattoria off the Campo di Fiori, toasted a fabulous vacation, and said “arrivederci, Roma, ci vediamo”. We will return.

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Florence

Our final days in Florence were spent doing the last few things on our list – the Pitti Palace, hiking up to the hills above our apartment, doing some shopping, and figuring out just what we really wanted to do in Rome with our two and a half days there. The Pitti Palace was the home of the Medici, and now houses a large art museum - actually, a number of art museums. We saw the royal apartments and the Museum of Modern Art. You know a place is really old when their modern art museum displays paintings from the mid-1700s. I think the paintings and sculptures pale in comparison to the rooms that house them. Those Medici, I tell you, they didn't let a ceiling go unfrescoed, a wall ungilded, a chair uncarved, or a table un-inlaid (that last one may not be a word, but I'm on a roll here). The exterior of the palace is rather ugly and plain, so as not to incite the masses with their over-the-top, in-your-face wealth. Of course the sheer size of the building was a dead give-away.

We enjoyed a beautiful day hiking up the hill to the churches we saw framed in our arched window every night. There were wonderful views of the city after we hiked along the city wall for awhile. Shopping was, well, what can I say, it's Florence. Handmade leather jackets and gloves, but no jewelry (beautiful but expensive gold).

We loved living in Florence for that long; we wanted to stay. We met wonderful Italians who enjoy life and loved just chatting with us. Speaking of speaking, our Italian improved through our stay. We still didn't speak correctly much of the time; but by the last days we had little fear and even less pride. As we spoke to shopkeepers and waiters and people on the street we were happy when they corrected our grammar. I admit I was a little disappointed when I successfully used the future or the past imperfect tenses for my verbs and got no reaction; weren't they supposed to be impressed?? Gee, they acted like it was normal to say “we will be going to” or “I felt that”. Harrumph. Paul spoke to everyone he came in contact with in the hope they would understand and speak back – waiters, kitchen help, maids, museum guards, cab drivers, policemen. Amazing, he's never done that anywhere else in English!

On Friday morning we left our beautiful apartment overlooking the Arno, took the tiny bus to the train station, and caught the Eurostar to Rome.

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The Cinque Terre

Time stopped for us on the Cinque Terre, figuratively and literally. In the hassle of the train station Paul's watch band broke, so he had to put his watch in his pack and depend on mine. Then my watch battery died. It was a sign to leave schedules and connection times behind and enjoy the beautiful country of the Ligurian coast. It was a good plan, but could be executed only after we got to the Cinque Terre! We had the connection schedule through Pisa planned, but apparently the bigglietario didn't think we would manage so sold us a direct ticket instead. Oddly, that was going to take more time and be less expensive. The train was a milk run, stopping at almost every station, so we didn't catch the coastal train in La Spezia until much later than planned. Leaving schedules behind is one thing, but this cut seriously into our afternoon beach time!

The CinqueTerre (Five Lands) is a national park containing five beautiful coastal towns connected by trains, boats, and many hiking trails. The trails ascend and descend by stone steps, extremely steep and narrow, and hang on the edge of the cliffs at points. There was a lot of hauling of rocks over the cenuries to build those things. Some people hike the entire length in a day; it would take about 5 to 6 hours if you didn't stop much and hiked at a strong pace. But how could anyone hike this coast and not stop to take pictures and just soak in the views?? It would be a waste.

We got off the train in Vernazza, the fourth of the five towns (south to north), walked into town, had a slice of pizza for late lunch, then headed up the steps between two buildings toward Monterroso. I think this section of the trail is the steepest; it goes up at an angle to the crest, then down to Monterroso. The trail builders apparently had not yet discovered the beauty of switchbacks. We gave a saxophone player a euro and swing danced gingerly up and down the steps. Never miss an opportunity to be generous OR to dance! We got into town in time to check into our very nice B & B, then get to the beach as the sun was setting over the cliff. We thought the water too cold to swim, although others didn't seem to mind. We expected Monterroso to be crowded and touristy, but it wasn't at all. We dined at a wonderful little restaurant and were practically alone.

Vernazza to Monterosso:

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The next morning we hopped the train all the way south to the first town, Riomaggiore. The trail between Riomaggiore and Manorola is a paved handicapped-accessible path that takes about 10 minutes to walk. IF you don't have to thread your way through packs of tour groups every 5 feet. We were happy to learn that the lower trail between Manorola and Corniglia was still closed because of a landslide, so hikers have to use the higher trails there. There we dropped “i touristi e le nonne” (the tourists and the grandmothers) behind.

Riomaggiore to Manarola:

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The high trail afforded incredible views at every turn; we stopped continually for photo ops. After climbing for awhile (and staying ahead of the large wheezing German gentleman whom I was certain was going to expire and topple over) the trail flattens and runs through vineyards and olive groves before descending into Corniglia. What a beautiful sight – Corniglia sits atop a cliff overlooking the Mediterranean. After a brief stop in town we hiked on to Vernazza where we had started the previous day. I was especially thrilled to end the hike there, as I have been looking at that scene many times a day for a year – my Macbook wallpaper is a great photo taken from the trail overlooking Vernazza from the south. Paul recreated the photo, this time with me in it, we finished our wine (don't all Italians hike with a bottle of vino rosso?), then went into town and grabbed the train back to La Spezia.

Riomaggiore to Manarola:

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Corniglia to Vernazza:

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There the big train adventure began. We had bought a roundtrip direct ticket from Florence, but the shorter connecting train was leaving earlier. At the information counter a young American couple were asking about the same connection so we befriended them and ran for the train, which was leaving immediately. We were in such a rush that none of us remembered to validate the tickets before boarding (a must, or you will incur a minimum 50 euro fine each). We realized it as the train was pulling out. So Paul and Brad hung out in the doorway at every station hoping for a validation machine nearby; no luck, and the train only stops for about 30 seconds. We could see them jumping off, running for the machine, and the train pulling out with them on the platform and us on the train with no tickets at all. We were sweating it out – we were in the last car, would the conductor get to us before we got off in Pisa? Um, yes, three stops away. But Paul did great! He started with “Mi dispiace, ho due probleme” (I'm sorry, I have two problems). He theorizes that Italians hate for you to be sorry. Not only had we forgotten to validate our return ticket, but Paul had already validated the return ticket the day before by mistake. So we were wrong both directions. I think in attempting to explain in Italian the conductor took pity on all four of us and just told us to validate in Pisa when we changed trains. We made it back late to our apartment, and without paying 100 euro extra for the privelege.

 

Siena for the day

Siena is a medieval city south of Florence, 75 minutes away by bus. We took a morning class from the Tuscan Wine School entitled "A Taste of Siena", a tour of all the different foods we've been eating. (Note that our prior ignorance was no hindrance to our food consumption, we just wanted to have a little insight into the culture.)  The tour around the city included tastes of pecorino cheeses, proscuitto (Parma and Tuscan), salamis, panforte, soft marzipan biscuits, olive oils, honey, gelato, and, of course wines! Clearly we didn't need lunch.

In the afternoon we walked around the city but primarily stayed inside the magnificent cathedral. It was simply stunning inside, a riot of colors, geometric tile floors, mosaic tile floors, paintings, coffered ceilings (real and faux), and striped columns. Just amazing. I spent a lot of time with my camera and mini-tripod taking many series of photos to later process as HDR (high dynamic range). HDR blends multiple exposures to pick up all the light and dark areas. Then I play with the controls to "paint" the photo. The Siena cathedral was made for this method, although truly it is just as beautiful without it.

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The cathedral and Siena scenes

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HDR

Stop me before I eat again!

We started out famished in Florence, having traveled for so many hours and then run for trains. I assure you we've more than made up for it since.  The supermarket, the central market, the bakeries, the bars (those are cafes, not just drinking establishments, but of course one can get wine there, too), the gelaterias, and the restaurants all have been too difficult to pass up. Normally when we travel we consult guidebooks or the internet to get restaurant recommendations. We've done that here, but invariably when we have headed for a specific place we've veered into a different one that looked enticing.  And we have yet to regret it.  Well, except around the waistline - dio mio - we have some work to do when we get home!

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We've become like all Italians, even the horses.

Italians love to eat. We had heard it, we had read it, we had learned it over and over in Italian class. Yet we are still amazed every time we go out to eat at the big groups of Italians at the tables - extended families and groups of friends, and bottles and bottles of wine on every table. Dinner is ordered in courses, everything is "a la carte", if you'll excuse the French, and we've only ordered one "secondo" so far (the main course).  We split a salad, each order a pasta or pizza for "primo", and then marvel that anyone could eat beef or chicken or any other main course at that point.

We eat gelato (ice cream) every day, and there have been a couple days in which we've eaten it twice. I confess to having become a gelato snob. There is an artisanal gelateria on our block, and those silver tins contain nectar from the gods. The silver tins normally indicate the gelato was made on-site; the plastic buckets in most shops are shipped in. Not that there's anything wrong with that - I haven't tasted a single bad one! But the artisanal gelato is hand made and the perfect temperature to melt on contact with your mouth.  In Siena I found the darkest and most delicious chocolate I've ever tasted, a very high bar - ask anyone who knows me.

It seems that the restaurant and trattoria owners enjoy feeding their customers as much as the patrons enjoy eating. One night we happened into a wonderful place with an owner who visited each table and chatted; with us he stayed awhile. I don't know if it's because we kept trying to speak Italian with him or he English with us, but he was a joy. He then gave us two glasses of wine, then two shots each of limoncello when we were done. Last night we enjoyed another friendly proprietor who spoke no English but liked us enough to also offer us limoncello on our way out.  This year of Italian class is paying off in alcohol, if nothing else.

I will stop this entry now, I think it's time to head out for an exercise hike up into the hills, where we'll surely find a pasticceria and a gelateria . . . .

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Gelato and other good food

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Mercato Centrale, to supply the kitchen

Il Duomo

We took the Terraces tour of the Duomo, and so got to climb to the top of the basilica's interior - the "terraces" are two very narrow walkways hanging on the walls of the church. The first terrace is 160 steps up, and the top of the Duomo was an additional 300+.

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Interior of the Duomo; frescoes at the top, two terraces on the walls between the stained glass windows.

A bit of history for those who haven't yet been to Florence. Il Duomo is the dome of the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore, built from 1296 to 1436. The dome, constructed from 1420 to 1426, was a marvel of engineering by Filippo Brunelleschi. It was the first dome constructed without a substructure - no scaffolding underneath for support while the brickwork was put in place. Brunelleschi was very clever, he didn't build one dome, he built two, separated by space with buttressing between. The exterior dome applies pressure inward, the interior dome pushes outward (I have no concept how this can be, but so said our guide). The octagonal dome was constructed by eight teams matching each row of bricks among the eight sides. After construction Bunelleschi destroyed all his drawings and notes so no one else could later use his method.  

The stairs to the top of the dome run between the two domes; it's a tight fit in most places because the same stairway is used for both directions and well, we weren't the only people there. It was a fascinating tour that gave us some history of Florence, the dome, and fortunately for me, enough time to take pictures of the cathedral interior, the frescoes in the dome (up close and personal), and Florence from the exterior portions of the terraces and then from the top of the cupola.

 

 

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Impressions of the Uffizi

Yesterday (after a breakfast of espresso and croissants) we crossed the Ponte Vecchio and headed for the Uffizi, the Duomo, and the standard areas of interest to suss out the intracacies of tickets, reservations, and entry points. We never figured it out. We saw long lines waiting to get in the Uffizi Museum and the Church of Santa Maria del Fiore; no signs indicated why those people were standing at those particular doors. Maybe they didn't want to pay the 4 euro reservation charge. We are operating on the premise that there's no problem that can't be remedied wtih the application of a few euro. Long lines? No problem, get a reservation or book a tour. Got on the wrong train? Non c'è una problema, buy a ticket back (we haven't had to use this one yet but we have it ready).

We walked into a reservations door, bought tickets for the afternoon, and then wandered around the city near the Arno. There a lot of people here! The piazza was crowded with tour groups following guides who held signs or stuffed animals aloft; it was like the Pied Piper with headsets instead of a flute.

So we spent the afternoon in the Uffizi Museum. I could expound on the centuries of art on display but guidebooks do a fine job of that. Keep in mind I am neither an artist nor a student of religion, but this is what I took away from the Uffizi:

  • Life was dark in the Middle Ages, even during the light of day.
  • People were flat in the 1400s but got rounder as time went on.
  • Men got in a lot of fights while naked.
  • Women watched fights, also while naked.
  • Naked fighters didn't fight fair.
  • It would help to know Bible stories. The subjects of all the paintings were saints and apostles and Jesus doing stuff you were supposed to learn about in Sunday school.
  • The Uffizi is very proud of itself. Seems half the signage was about the museum itself instead of what was held in it.
  • The Uffizi, and Florence in general, don't deem sitting a worthwhile endeavor.

These are just my impressions; your mileage may vary.

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It begins

It's been a long day, in truth a long weekend, but we are in Florence in our apartment overlooking the Arno River, the Uffizi Gallery, the Ponte Vecchio, and the Duomo. It's all pretty stunning. We spent the weekend at a family wedding in Virginia and flew to Italy from D.C. An overnight flight left us in Rome; from there we managed to get ourselves here via train to Termini Station and then high-speed train to Florence.

After leaving our bags, taking photos of the incredible views from both the bedroom (in its own top-floor cupola) and our terrace, we headed out for a walk, some food, and a bottle of wine.  All were wonderful. After dinner we walked the Ponte Vecchio with our gelato as they closed up the jewelry shops for the evening. No worries, our apartment is a block from all that glitters, and we will be walking over the Ponte Vecchio at least twice a day during our stay. I believe there will be something sparkly returning home with me!

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Views from our rooftop room

We have no plan for tomorrow save a morning caffè for Paul and a chocolate croissant for me. We will then walk the city and take in whichever museums or churches have tickets available. The beauty of staying here 12 days is that eventually we will see pretty much whatever we want to see, with minimal pressure.

I am writing this on our terrace by moonlight; the church facades are softly lit and the surrounding homes have warm lights in their windows. It is truly other-worldy. We could sit here for hours but sleep is overtaking us. I will write again.