Tierra de Tortugas

Summer 2013 Sojourn: Rome, Spello, and Assisi

I'm writing this blog on a waning afternoon in a very modest 2-star hotel in the suburbs of Rome, far from the expensive center of the Eternal City. Outside our open third-floor window, the busy hum of the city and the lyrical (and loud) language of working class Rome fills the air. It's a narrow street with a few trees and little traffic, just a block from a busy thoroughfare. There's a Tabacchi just across the street that sells good cheap sandwiches, soft drinks and newspapers. Men are sitting at tables on the sidewalk, playing cards. With loud conversation and much arm-waving, of course. I'm reminded of Talley's Corner, a book about the sociology of a street corner in a poor neighborhood of Washington, DC. An enterprising young student could probably put together a book about this corner in Rome.

This area is pretty much the opposite of the poster-pretty parts of central Rome. Out here a good strong cappuccino in a friendly nearby cafe will cost you one Euro – not 2.50, as in the Trevi Fountain district. And there's a fine and busy pizzeria with sparkling white table cloths just below our grungy balcony, where we indulged in a large salad and a delicious thin-crust pizza di funghi, along with a bottle of the very good house vino rosso, followed by a tall glass of grappa di prosecco. All of that only cost E28. You could probably double that price at a comparable place in the Centro Storico.

But even way out here, at the 10th Metro stop from the central Stazione Termini, rooms are not cheap. Our very modest room cost 80 Euros (US$108) per night.

Overall, Rome was a bust. It was partly because we both felt sickly (we caught a nasty cold somewhere in our travels), and partly because we like using public transportation, which exposes us to different people than the airport to taxi to hotel routine.

There's always a crush of people at the Stazione Termini – it's the main station in Rome where the trains come in – and I got pick-pocketed while boarding the Metro as my first experience in town. He unzipped my back pocket with ease, but only got 5 Euros before escaping out the door. Another time, I felt a guy behind me on a crowded Metro car and found he'd also unzipped my pocket but he didn't get anything. I spun around and gave him a hard elbow to the chest for his trouble and called him a thief for the benefit of the other passengers. That was a little satisfying, but still, it's a big annoyance. 

 

Sure, we also did the tourist thing and climbed the Spanish Steps, passing the house that Keats and Shelley once shared (that's it on the right). And we wandered through the beautiful gardens of Villa Borghese Park among the vast array of busts of famous Romans. Walking under the tall pines, I could almost hear the beautiful tones of Respighi's symphony, "The Pines of Rome." (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vFkqyxy6oUw)

We came down from the Park into the Piazza del Popolo, walked past an ATM at a bank dating from 1472, and made our way back to the Trevi Fountain.

We even entered the square at the same point as Clifton Webb in the movie "Three Coins in the Fountain." (Clifton who!?!; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clifton_Webb). But then we proceeded to watch another pick-pocket work the large crowd, with no Polizei nearby to bother him. (There he is, front and center in the bottom right picture below!)

 

Another day we did the Colosseum but chose to avoid the crowds lined up for tickets there and at everything else nearby. We had some lunch, but Carolyn was feeling draggy from the cold, and we headed back to the hotel. I would soon have the same hacking cough and runny nose. Being sick sure didn't help our perceptions of Rome.

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 Our best Rome experience was a necessary visit to the Apple Store in a large mall called the Porta di Roma. I had somehow gotten too many photos in the wrong place on my Apple Air (I take lots of photos), and it all got clogged up. Even Carolyn couldn't figure out a fix. So on our second day we caught a bus to the Genius Bar and spoke with Gabriele, who was very patient and reloaded everything so I could get back to work. He worked with us for nearly three hours, and the cost was zero. We happily gave him one of our Casa Tortuga cards and invited him to visit us in Kino Bay. It'll probably never happen, but….

  

Our best experience at the Termini Stazione was boarding the train to visit our friend Evie in the small town of Spello, in the Umbrian hills. 'Seeing Rome in our rear view mirror' was sweet, as beautiful countryside and small hill-top towns passed our window.

 

Once again we went from being "tourists" on quick cruise ship stops at crowded sites, to being "travelers" and taking our time to know a village or town in more depth. It's a better way to travel when you have the time, and it's more relaxing. 

In fact we got maybe a bit too relaxed on the way to Spello and missed our stop. We didn't really miss it, but it's a very short 'whistle stop,' and we didn't get out the door soon enough. We opened the door and Carolyn reached for her bag. Just then the door slammed shut and would not re-open. I saw our friend Evie standing on the platform as we pulled away, and I yelled out an open window that we couldn't get off the train. We also had no phone number or address for her (bad plan!) so we couldn't contact her by phone from Assisi, the next station. Soon we were sitting at the very nice Assisi station emailing Evie that we'd catch the next train back to Spello, and hoping she'd check the internet.

She did, and she was back waiting for us when we finally arrived at the station. Even counting our little mess-up, it was sweet to be in a small town of friendly people far from the big city. When we arrived at the very nice place with thick stone walls that Evie was renting for a few months, it was like an Italian Dream come true. 

In the morning Evie was off to her Italian lessons with Angelo and we found a fine place for brunch, with a terrace overlooking the farms and vineyards below. Then there were shady winding streets to wander and experience tiny Spello. 

And later there was a road trip to an old mill in the hills, with Angelo narrating, in Italian, of course. (You speak Italian, right? Neither do we; and in spite of what they say, it's not really that much like Spanish. But we more or less figured it out and had a fine afternoon.)

Then it was back to Evie's for pasta, a good Umbrian red wine (of course!), and great conversation.

Late summer days in Spello are best when you start out slowly, and then taper off. As the days flow into fall and the summer crops have been gathered, there is time for wine and conversation over another fine lunch. There are flowers to be enjoyed, loved ones to remember, and afternoon light to appreciate. And evenings are well spent with new friends, like Lou and Jane, over dinner at a place called Il Trombone that uses colanders, cheese graters, and dipping spoons for light fixtures.  

 

Evie had been planning to make the 10 kilometer walk on a quiet road to Assisi some day, and we all decided this was the right time for it. A backward glance at Spello, framed between cedars in the morning light, let us know we'd come to a special place.The quiet road wanders through old olive groves and, for a while, we could hear the highway in the valley below. But we rounded a small hill and even that noise fell behind. It was a cool September day and a great day for a walk.  

We passed a few elegant private drives along the way, a colorful snail, some burros and gardens, a whimsical roof drain, and some very comfortable-looking B&Bs before reaching Assisi. The charm factor was accelerating with each kilometer we put behind us.

One step through the gates of Assisi and we knew it was worth the effort. This has to be one of the more charming small towns in a country that specializes in charm. To anyone who has grown weary of decrepit ruins, the well-kept old buildings of Assisi must come as a relief. This is clearly a secret devout followers of Saint Francis have been keeping to themselves for too long.

We enjoyed a well-earned lunch at a small street-side cafe and let the experience of Assisi sink in slowly. There were crowds enjoying this famous pilgrimage spot, but there was a kind of calm quiet in the air, unlike many other sites we'd visited on this long trip. It was a welcome change. 

That would all change in a few days, as Papa Francesco (Pope Francis) would be making his own pilgrimage to the site to pay homage to Saint Francis and celebrate mass with his followers.

 

Preparations were well underway, but there was still time to smell the herbs and covet the baked goods before departing charming Assisi.(Also my camera ran out of juice just when we got to the astounding Basilica. Sorry. Guess we'll have to go back some day.)

In the morning we'd say goodbye to little Spello and to lovely Evie, and we'd board a train bound for a sailing adventure to the fabled island of Elba, in the Tyrrhennian Sea off the Tuscan Coast. But that's a story for another day. — PRW

Summer 2013 Sojourn: Cruising the Med, Part 2

Our previous map made the cruise ship look like a pinball ricochetting around the eastern Med. And that's actually what it felt like at times as we crossed our own path from port to port. Part of this had to do with canceling the Israel portion because Syria's Assad gassed his own people and threatened other countries nearby. But part of it was due to the hassles of scheduling large ships into the small islands and ports of the Med. We're just glad it was someone else's headache and we could take a break from booking hotels, buying train tickets, and shagging bags across the continent.

The second segment of our cruise began in Athens where we had the pleasure of finding the Melina Mercouri Foundation near the Acropolis and learning more about this remarkable Greek actress and patriot.

 

She had memorable roles in such movies as "Never on Sunday," "Topkapi," and "Phaedra." But she also fought for democracy against the Greek dictatorship and later became a cultural ambassador for her country. She remains an inspiration to many.

(http://www.melinamercourifoundation.org.gr/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=52&Itemid=87&lang=en)

 

As our ship left the harbor at Piraeus we settled in to another night of fine food and entertainment, and awoke in the morning to the magnificent sight of Santorini at dawn.

 

The caldera of Santorini (Thira, to the Greeks) was formed when the volcano exploded, leaving a large sea-filled crater. Over the centuries hardy Greeks fished these waters and built cliff-hugging villages. Today, they're open for business whenever a cruise ship hoves into sight. We decided not to take the donkey ride to the top of the rim, but opted for a fast (and wet) boat to the village of Oia and a bus back to the main town. The streets are gorgeously narrow, with expensive jewelry and art shops to lure the unwary. And each corner offers a new vista to shoot. It's every bit as dramatic as the pictures in the travel mags, and lunch overlooking our ship floating in blue waters far below was a high point. Reluctantly, we took the cable car back down to the harbor and the tender back to the ship.

Next, we awoke to what has to be one of the most impressive harbor entries in the world as the ship cruised slowly into Venice and we watched the city unfold before us. After we parked (with the other cruise ships), it was time to return to the charming streets of Venice. But this time we were looking for the Biennale. Every two years Venice has a huge international art fair and this was the year. We had seen the large red signboards from the ship as we cruised the waterfront, and then we hopped on a 'water bus' to the old Arsenale for the show. 

It seems appropriate that the art show is held in the funkier part of town, where actual Venicians live and work. Art-related sayings decorate many of the shop windows, and street art abounds.

 

 The Biennale grounds are the repurposed buildings of the ancient military arsenal, and the cavernous spaces provide plenty of room for art and, well, artistic 'statements' of all kinds. Some of it is brilliant and some is just odd. But taken all together, it makes for an excellent and provocative way to spend some time.

Dozens of countries also have pavilions to showcase their own artists. A few of the more memorable were the Russian exhibit of coins showering into a pile to represent avarice, and the Hungarian exhibit of unexploded bombs found in their country. Perhaps the most poignant was the Lebanese "Letter to a Refusing Pilot." In 1982 an Israeli pilot was ordered to bomb a certain building in Lebanon, but when he saw it was clearly a school he refused to follow orders and dropped his bombs into the ocean instead.

After the show we cross one of Venice's many bridges just as a wedding party is cruising by in a procession of gondolas – with an opera singer aboard. A few minutes later some guys in costumes wander by as we find a classical music concert to enjoy before retiring for the night.

We have two days in Venice, so in the morning we make our way to the Peggy Guggenheim Museum to enjoy works by many of the most famous artists in recent history.

Afterward, we find our way back through the maze of streets and enjoy a last cappuccino before reboarding the ship.

Dubrovnik was one of the places we had given up visiting because of the cost, but it would be our next stop on this cruise. The Croatian coast is a spectacular area of islands and rocky coves dotted with red tile roofed villages.

A ride on the aerial tram gets you a view of the city, the islands, and the Adriatic Sea. It also gets you to the museum commemorating the recent war of "Serbian and Montenegrin aggression" against Croatia and the senseless bombardment of historic Dubrovnik. It's an intense experience to see the exhibits and look out to the nearby mountains where the Serb artillery was stationed.

Back in the town below, the narrow streets of Dubrovnik are enclosed within ancient city walls and, for a few Euros, you can walk the entire length of the battlements. At a few points, the destruction of the Serbian-Montenegrin war is still evident in the burned out homes below.

 Our next stop will be Kotor, Montenegro, yet another charming walled medieval city. We pull in as the sun begins to light the canyon walls. We don't know the current Montenegrin opinion of their nearby neighbors in Dubrovnik, and decide not to ask. But the thick walls surrounding each town speak of centuries of local conflict. 

This time there's no aerial tram, so we hike to the top for the view, passing flowers and a small chapel on the way up to where the colorful Montenegrin flag flies in the breeze. Our ship is anchored far below in what's called a 'fjord.' But it's not glacially formed, so the city really rests in a protected location in a spectacular canyon off the sea. Back in town we stop for a pizza and some very good local red wine.

 

 The Greek island of Corfu is next on the list. By this time we were both feeling "ruined" and didn't bother to look for more ancient piles of rocks. We just spent a nice day wandering the shore with sailing boats on the sea and the mountains of Albania in the distance. Plenty of local people were enjoying a morning swim, and we wished we'd thought to wear our suits. 

But we enjoyed a cappuccino instead and rubbed the bright nose of Lawrence Durrell, an irreverent character, author of The Alexandria Quartet and one of the foremost 'Mediterranean' writers of the 20th century. I still want to walk along the Grand Corniche in Alexandria some day. 

(http://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/4720/the-art-of-fiction-no-23-lawrence-durrell)

In the afternoon, a regatta of yachts was returning to port as our ship pulled away from Corfu. For sailors like us, it looked like a fine place to return some day.

 

 Corfu was our last stop before the cruise ended at Civitavecchia, the port city for Rome. It would also be our last "Formal Night, so we got as formal as we could manage – but I needed to wear sandals because my feet get hot in shoes. The question arises, "Are sandals really 'formal,' or not?" To which I have to reply, "WWJD?" (What Would Jesus Do?) Right, I think he'd wear his sandals.

 

But in the morning there were still a couple of final viewing opportunities. It was drizzly as we passed the Calabrian coast and rain swept the rear deck, but it eased as we entered the Straits of Messina, where Odysseus long ago fought off Scylla the dragon, and Charybdis the whirlpool. The cloud-shrouded mass of Mt. Etna loomed over the port of Messina on the Sicilian side.

And an hour or so later, we passed the smoking throat of Stromboli, Europe's most active volcano. KK, the ship's tour director reminded us of the torrid and scandalous affair between Ingrid Bergman and Roberto Rossellini when he directed her in the film called "Stromboli," using island residents as actors and extras.

Strangely enough, it was on the telly our first night in Rome, and we watched it for the scenes of village life at the time. The movie was in Italian, but we didn't have too much trouble figuring out the plot, and the pictures of island life in the early 1950s were worth the effort. 

 

Next we'll make our way north through Italy by train, and have some adventures along the way. Be sure to join us. — PRW

Summer 2013 Sojourn: Cruising the Med

Aboard the MS NOORDAM, from Istanbul to Athens

 We had no intention of boarding a cruise ship in the eastern Mediterranean; our intention was to travel down the Adriatic Coast, then through Turkey by train, hop local ferries through the various Greek islands, then make our way to Italy and points east of there. But it was summertime, and after failing to find lodging at a rational price along the Adriatic, we went inland and visited some of the interesting cities of the Balkans. It was a good choice, as we avoided the predictable beach town 'Euro-scene' and got a deeper appreciation of these cultures. 

But while web-surfing in our hotel in Zagreb, Croatia, I found a Holland America ship that was leaving Istanbul about the time we planned to be there and arriving in Rome on the date that we had scheduled. It was a 22-day cruise at a basic cost of US$145 per day for the two of us, with good food, comfortable lodging and transportation included. And we'd be visiting several sites we'd given up on earlier, plus two stops in Israel and others we'd never considered. Although we'd have only a day in most ports, it was a good deal and we booked it. 

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NOTE: A friend suggested that maps would be helpful to show our travel route, so we're trying it out with this blog. It may be especially important for this cruise, since we covered so much territory. This leg of our journey takes us from Istanbul to Athens.

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They had the usual "Sailaway Party" on the aft deck, and we hoisted our glasses as Istanbul's famous skyline receded off our stern. 

Then we adjourned for dinner and a show before turning in for the night. The 'pampered life' was a very different experience from our trip so far. During the night we'd be heading south across the Sea of Marmaris toward that narrow and strategic entry into the Mediterranean known as the Dardanelles. And that's where the educational part of our trip would begin.

 

The largest contingent aboard appeared to be Aussies and Kiwis. One Aussie told us it was because their dollar was now on par with the US dollar and they could finally afford to travel. Another big draw was that the MS Noordam would be cruising through the Dardanelles in daylight, and there would be a running narrative from the bow deck high-lighting the battles of Gallipoli where the Aussies and Kiwis suffered the worst casualties as their generals badly underestimated the skill and tenacity of Ataturk, the Turkish leader.

Along the shore there are several highly visible monuments highlighting the Turkish victory. We were told these tragic battles are still honored by the Aussies and Kiwis with a day of remembrance, and there were many pictures taken with the Australian and New Zealand flags flying at the bow.

 

One of the more insightful accounts of that period is Louis de Berniere's recent book, Birds Without Wings, about a small Anatolian village in the dying days of the Ottoman Empire. It's seen through the eyes of simple villagers as they follow the remarkable rise of Ataturk, the incompetent Allied generals at Gallipoli, the wanton destruction of ancient Smyrna (now Izmir), the brutal Greek-Turkish expulsions, and the birth of modern Turkey. It's a powerful read, and a running narrative through the geography of the Dardanelles helped bring it all more vividly into focus.

 

 

The sun was setting as we entered the Aegean Sea and enjoyed more of shipboard life, while others worried about the logistics. And the daily stops took on a quickening rhythm of their own. 

 

 

We awoke to the Greek island of Mykonos, and the white-washed port city was equal to all the photos we had ever seen. The beaches of Paradise and Super Paradise are popular with the gay crowd. We opted instead for a boat trip to the nearby sacred island of Delos, uninhabited since the Athenians decreed it long ago. Many temples have been destroyed, and the Sacred Lake was drained due to mosquito infestations. But there's still much to see. Even though it was a hot summer day, we climbed to the top for the view. We have to do these things while we're still young.

As we looked across to Mykonos and out to several other Greek islands, I recalled a quote from Zorba the Greek: in one of the last chapters, Zorba is standing on a promontory looking out across blue Greek waters, and he says, "Lucky is the man who, before dying, has a chance to gaze upon the Aegean Sea." 

 

 

 Next was Kušadasi, Turkey, and the nearby ruins of Ephesus, an important and wealthy trading city in Roman times. This is where Paul delivered his Letters to the Ephesians and won important converts to his new religion. It was once a port city but now is well inland due to (latest theory) massive erosion that filled in the port and caused the sea to retreat about 15 km. It's still an impressive place to visit, with much left to see, like cats, and good photo ops.

 After touring Ephesus, our guide, Ahmet, offered to take us to a silk weaving operation near the ship. It was certainly educational as we watched how they boil cocoons to extract the silk and weave it into fabulous rugs. But we had no intention of dragging another rug around the world (Remember our Tangier Blog?), and soon thanked them for the tea and hospitality before ducking down the 'exit' – which runs through his brother's leather shop. And then through his cousin's gold shop. And onward through his uncle's jewelry shop. We finally made our escape and ran for the ship.

We made an overnight passage to Rhodes, where the famous Colossus once stood. It was a huge bronze statue that straddled the harbor entrance and was known as one of the Seven Wonders of the World until an earthquake toppled it just 65 years after it was erected. The residents took this as a sign from their gods and left the pieces lying on the ground for a millennium until they were sold to a scrap metal merchant. We walked past the old windmills and through the ancient city gates into the streets of Rhodes; they cast a special spell as they meander behind the city's ancient walls. At the end of the day there's just time enough for a swim in the ancient harbor, far more refreshing than a ship-board pool.

 

After Rhodes we were scheduled for two stops in Israel, at Haifa and Ashdod, but the Syrian war intervened when Assad used chemical weapons on his opponents. There was much international sabre-rattling, but the final straw was about the time the Israeli government began issuing gas masks to the citizens. Incredibly, we actually heard of someone onboard complaining that we weren't going to Israel anyway. The rest of us were happy that two more ports in Turkey were quickly added instead.

 

Bodrum and Antalya are beach towns where Turkish and Euro tourists come to relax, wander the bazaars, and eat well. And of course, each also has an old fort (now a museum) to explore, left behind by one or more of the many conquering groups that swept through in the long march of history. In Antalya especially, each apartment block was festooned with solar water heaters – an excellent idea in the Med. We're back aboard in time for dinner and a nightcap, and more ridiculous luxuriating on the ship.

 

At Nafplio, on the Greek mainland, we catch a local bus to Mycenae (Mikines), home of Odysseus, Achilles and the other heroes that Homer wrote about. We climb upward through the fabled Lion Gate; and from the ancient ruins, the landscape below, dotted with olive groves and vineyards and the Aegean Sea in the distance, probably appears much as it did in those days. It was from these shores that the Achaean Greeks set sail for Troy and became legends in history. 

 

Another overnight passage brought us to Crete and the port of Heraklion. Just outside the city lies the Palace of Knossos, the famous ruins of Minoan civilization, destroyed by an earthquake and fire around 1300 bc. After its collapse, power shifted to the mainland, to the Achaean Greeks of Mycenae and the Homeric legends. Crete is still known for the legends of the Minotaur, and the parable of Daidalos and his son Ikaros, who escaped imprisonment on wings of feathers and wax. But young Ikaros flew too close to the sun, his wings melted, and he plummeted into the sea. 

Our next stop would be the port of Piraeus and Athens. We took the train into Athens and wandered the heart of the old city. The Acropolis was undergoing major repairs, but we followed the crowds over well-worn stones to the top and the magnificent views over the city. 

 

The new Museum has an impressive collection of artifacts and a fine cafe with Acropolis views. Our wanderings continued through the colossal remains of the temple of Olympian Zeus, the Tower of the Winds, and the narrow streets of the Plaka district. The extensive National Gardens provided cool and welcome relief from the city, and the Changing of the Guards at the Greek Parliament and their ridiculously high-stepping routine is not to be missed. It was a long and rewarding day, and too-soon it was time to return to Piraeus and the ship. 

 

(Sadly, much of the rest of Athens and neighboring Piraeus has not developed well and is now dominated by high-rise apartments that can be best described as "ordinary." It's tragic that a city that became one of the world's most important architectural and intellectual influences has failed so badly at honoring its important heritage.)

Athens was the 11th day of the cruise and the beginning of another cruise for many people. But we had signed on for 22 days, and for us it was only the halfway point. Thanks for joining us on the first half, and we'll put together another blog for the next segment. — PRW