Tuesday, July 15, 2003

7-13-03, Pompeii, Lauryssa Lynn’s Birthday   Two camp days in a row, and we needed it.  Got the laundry done, some good maintenance on the van, and rested our feet.  We’ve put 8,000 miles on the old Bedford, and the odometer rolled over to 000000 on the way here, so I celebrated by changing the oil, filters, and flushing out the radiator and putting in some new coolant.  I finally found out what the deal is with auto parts.  They don’t have auto parts stores like we have in the States like NAPA.  They have these stores that look like Kragen or Grand Auto, and they sell a lot of the same stuff – tires, batteries, oil, radios… but no actual replacement parts for individual cars.  Those you have to get from the dealer.  But here the dealer doesn’t necessarily sell cars.  Some just sell parts…  but the sign outside doesn’t say auto parts, it says, Ford, or Fiat, or Opel.  What I found out the other day is that Opel is the company that sells parts for Bedford trucks…  So now I’m on the lookout for the Opel dealer.  It’s so hard when you can’t make sense of the yellow pages, and the people who speak English don’t know anything about cars and the people who know about cars don’t speak English.  But I think I’m well on the way to solving the mystery.   I’ve been studying up for a full day in Pompeii tomorrow…  the ruins are just outside the campground gates.  There are three major sites in this area, Pompeii, Herculeum, and a big Roman Villa that were all buried by the same eruption of Vesuvius in 79 AD.  The fourth place I want to see is the museum in Naples where they put everything they could move from all three sites.  It’s kind of a shame you can’t go to Pompeii and see everything in place, but I suppose they had to protect as much as they could from vandals, thieves, and the weather… to say nothing of another eruption of the volcano. 12:24:57 PM    comment []

7-11-03, Rome   Hits and misses in Rome:   Pantheon, a hit.  Huge marble columns, incredible dome, it’s a monument, it’s a church, it’s an unruined ruin.  Built in 125 AD by Hadrian, and I guess it’s had some hard years, but it’s still looking good.  The dome once had a copper lining, when they were building St. Peter’s they removed the ceiling of the Pantheon, melted down the copper and used it in the Cathedral.  The surprising thing to me was that the Pantheon has always been a Christian Church, not as we’ve seen before in many places, a chapel added to an older structure, Muslim or pagan.   I liked it.  Cool dome, copper or no.  Vatican Museum, Sistine Chapel, big hit.  Overwhelming art, room after room.  They could hold an auction and feed every poor person in the world steak dinners for life.  Not that I’m suggesting that would be a good idea.  Rhona was wondering if Michelangelo knew he was doing work that would amaze people for thousands of years.  I’m betting he did.  I was surprised that the famous finger pointing figures are just one panel of several.  The organization was amazing, our book says 15-20 thousand people a day go through there, I believe it.  The Chapel was the only place it felt a little crowded, there were no long lines anywhere, everything very efficient, clean and beautiful.  For a couple thousand years, Popes have been traveling the world, and everywhere they go people give them presents.  Like huge paintings and statues.  Or, in the case of Richard Nixon, porcelain figures of birds.  All this stuff ends up in the Vatican Museum.   St. Peter’s Square, a hit.  Truly impressive.  Rhona liked the guard dudes in their cute outfits.  St. Peter’s, a miss.  Well, we missed it, that’s why.  Can’t get in wearing shorts.  Should have brought those zip on legs for my shorts, but they were back in the van.  Thought we’d get back to it, but we didn’t make it.  Oh well, maybe next trip.  If I ever see the real St. Peter I’ll be naked. Coliseum, a near miss, but a hit nonetheless.  I guess the ruins we saw outside of Seville kind of spoiled the sight of the Coliseum for me. The original is bigger, more complete… but pretty much the same deal.  Maybe the Spanish version was more beautiful because it was out in the country, very few people, and no construction happening.  The Roman Coliseum has a lot of work going on, scaffolding everywhere.  I expect they are just trying to preserve it, not restore it, that doesn’t seem possible.  But what made the price of admission worthwhile was the Nike Exhibit.  Yeah, we thought it had something to do with the shoe company too, but that’s just a coincidence.  Nike was the goddess of victory, and the exhibit displayed statues and art dealing with athletics and the Olympics, from the earliest Greek pottery to photos of modern day athletes.  Many of the statues on display were ancient Roman copies of Greek originals, like the famous discus thrower.  We took some great photos, check out the Yahoo album. The Forum, Capitalino Hill, uhmmm, disappointing, I guess.  It’s a huge area, mostly a jumble of rock and marble.  A few impressive chunks of ancient buildings, but very difficult to imagine how it must have looked in the days of the Empire.  When the Barbarians sacked Rome, they did a good job, then, over the centuries, a lot of the marble was hauled off to be used on other buildings.  We looked down on the Circus Maximus where the Chariot races were held, basically a natural bowl with a long narrow dirt oval just visible.  You can see the area where the grandstands probably were.  No, I wasn’t expecting it to look like the movies, but I was hoping to get a better feel of ancient Rome.  Well, Pompeii is still to come.  We visited a small museum that had models of the Iron Age village that was probably the first Rome, based on excavations done recently. Spanish Steps, a miss.  Lombard street in the S.F. is more interesting.   Kind of what it looks like, only marble stairs, not a street.  I guess the fact that it was where all the beautiful people used to hang out is what puts it on the “must see” list.  The fat girls playing in the big boat shaped fountain at the bottom didn’t measure up. Trevi Fountain, a hit.  Yeah, I was surprised too…  The fountain is a huge marble statue, the whole side of a big building, and was a wonderful people-watching place.  Just people goofing around, coins being thrown by the bushel.  Rome must have some kind of automatic coin sucking device at the bottom of the pool.  There were at least a couple cops on duty to keep people out of the fountain, has to be big money flying through the air every day.  Anyway, it was fun. Various Churches, several hits.  Amazing artwork, paintings, frescos.  We were just walking down the street, looking for Trevi Fountain, I think.  Or maybe that Irish Pub I spotted an hour or so earlier when I wasn’t really thirsty yet.  Anyway, walked past a medium sized church, went in….  It was in the guidebook, we discovered.  Marble statue alongside the altar was one of Michelangelo’s last works, very nice.  Frescos on the wall by Fra Fillipo Lippi.  Rome is like that. The Druid’s Rock, a kinda hit.  The Irish Pub we finally found, after discovering the one I was looking for was closed for air conditioning repairs.  The Guinness was cold and good, atmosphere was more Rome than Dublin, but what the heck.    Rome has been hot, exhausting, and very expensive.   We did a couple stupid things.  Went into a restaurant, ordered two sodas, a piece of pizza and a sandwich…  we were hungry, thirsty, and really needed a place to sit down.  We knew that the smart thing to do was to buy at the counter and carry it out on the street, but our feets were hurting…  Twenty-nine dollars.  Ouch.  I doubt anyone eats there twice, but with thousands of tourists walking by every day, why should they care? The campground is probably one of the most expensive we’ve stayed in, but that’s to be expected.  Still a lot cheaper than any other option.  Train ride into Rome was cheap and convenient, no complaints there.  We liked the bar and restaurant, met a couple California girls who came to Rome to work as waitresses, they were enjoying life.    Time to pack up the van.  Next stop, Naples and Pompeii. 12:21:48 PM    comment []

7-7-03, lakeside, Tuscany   This morning we left the campground with the incredible view of the Tuscany rolling hills, and drove into Siena.  There are a couple things about that town that interested us.  It’s supposed to be one of the best-preserved, most beautiful medieval towns in Italy.  They have a big Piazza in the middle of town where they have a crazy horse race twice a year.  We just missed the first running, on July 2nd, and we’re not going to be around for the second on August 16th, but I think it’s one of those things that reading about is probably better than actually being there.  But I did want to see where it happens.  There are sixteen neighborhoods in the town, and they are all very proud of their history, it’s like tribes.  There’s a big buildup to the race, one of the quirks of the deal is that the horses and jockeys are selected and assigned to the various neighborhoods by a drawing.  But once they are chosen, the only real rule is that a jockey cannot grab another’s reins during the race.  So… kidnapping, bribery, physical assaults, are all completely acceptable.  What was that ski race they used to have, the Chinese downhill, where it didn’t matter what happened on the course, whoever made it to the finish line first won?  That’s the idea.  But it’s in this brick and stone Piazza, surrounded by buildings.  It’s a clamshell shaped place, if it was Nascar they’d call it a tri-oval.   Anyway, according to our guidebooks, the rich sit on balconies and a couple big grandstands, while the lower classes, that includes us tourists, fill the center sloping brick infield.   Up to 10,000 people crammed into an area the size of maybe two football fields.  The book says get there early, around two in the afternoon and then fight the crowds until the race, which only lasts a few minutes, then you are stuck in the Piazza until 8:30.  Like I said, I’m ready to believe the concept is more interesting than the actual event.  I’ve been to a few concerts that were like that.   Anyway, had to see the Piazza where the race, and so much Italian history has taken place.  Siena was an independent city-state, at war with Florence for years.  The politics, the art, it’s all interesting reading.  The critical point is that it was a city of over 300,000 people, great buildings, fantastic artwork… and then the Black Death hit Italy.  Siena went from 300,000 to 90,000, and never recovered.  That’s about the population today.  But our visit was hit and run.  We are pretty much museumed out.  And we’ve got Rome ahead of us, with the Vatican waiting, Sistine Chapel and all.  So…  we walked around window shopping, checking out the cool little tucked away places, and enjoying the lack of traffic and crowds.  The downtown is pretty much pedestrian only, and except for the small crowds of ice cream eating tourists, very pleasant.  I like ice cream as much as anybody, but it really is amazing…  ice cream must be the fuel that powers the tourist industry.  Some scientist should probably do a study, figure out why.   Back to the van and we headed southwards, towards our eventual goal, probably tomorrow, Rome.  But we had a few small villages we wanted to visit first.  The first was, okay, I’ll take a shot, Pienza… built by Pope Pius II pretty much as a testament to his own personal power.  He had his home village torn down, and this new city built.  Only problem was the above mentioned Black Death eliminated the need for new housing in Italy.  He threw a party and no one came.  The Leonardo de Capria movie, Romeo and Juliet was filmed there because there’s not a whole lot going on to get in the way.  We had a very nice, though quick visit…  I don’t know, there’s just something pleasant about all that stone, and the views from the hilltops.  Maybe it’s just getting away from the crowds and traffic that makes a day like today so enjoyable.   Our next stop was the highest hill town in Tuscany.  Montesomething or other.   We parked at the bottom and walked up through the town to the Grand Piazza at the top.  Wine is the big deal here, Chianti Classico is their claim to fame.  More window shopping.  There were cranes hovering over the town, but it’s not big new hotels they are building.  They are restoring the old buildings, making the stonework look like it did just six or seven hundred years ago.  I call that a good thing… like the art restoration, digging through the centuries of dirt and uncovering, or replacing, the brilliant textures and colors of the original creation.   But today was not about the villages or shopping.  It was about the drive through the countryside.  Past vineyards, fields of corn, tomatoes, and melons, through the rolling hills.  The only way to experience a day like today is to travel the way we are doing it.  On trains and busses, you don’t have the freedom, the direct contact.  Flying, forgetaboutit, it’s not happening.  The van was in a good mood, put a new radiator cap on and topped off the oil, and we were styling all day.  But came the decision.  Six o’clock and we’re parked in a parking lot that we probably could have spent the night in.  Should we?   We’ve been paying a lot for our campsites in Italy, might be nice to grab a freebie.  It does make Rhona a bit nervous.  She’ll do it, but she’s not happy about the idea.  But I had spotted a relatively cheap campsite a couple days ago in this area, highlighted it on the map.  So we headed out to find it.  Didn’t take the most direct route, but we got there.  Rather, here.  On the shore of a good sized lake.  Checked in at the registration office, found a spot overlooking the shore, and we’re home.  I did my setting up jobs, Rhona cooked up a good tortellini dinner, and we sat and watched the evening come.  The water is a bit low, it’s probably twenty yards to the actual edge of the lake across some sand/dirt.  Smells nice, bugs aren’t too bad, and the white noise of the water is very soothing.    There’s a floodlit castle tower off to the right, a horizon of rolling hills, with a higher level of hills behind them.  It’s getting dark now, and the lights of several villages around the lake are twinkling.  Peaceful, that’s what it is.   I often think - how are we doing?  Are we missing something?  When we get home will we regret not going somewhere, not seeing something?  I totally accept the idea that we can’t possibly see and do everything.  We just have to say, well, maybe we’ll get there next trip.  But every day is a decision.  Why are we here, what are we supposed to do, what’s going to happen next?  It occurred to me that those are the same questions that we should be asking ourselves every day of our lives, whether we are traveling in Europe or living our lives at home, wherever that might be.  It’s no different.  Because we have the freedom, and therefore the immediate responsibility, for our decisions, it’s in our face, every day.  But… you know…  we all make the same decisions every day, whether we realize it or not.  I remember that old country song, “Right or Left at Oak Street”, am I the only one that heard that one?   “Right or left at Oak Street, that’s the choice I make every day, and I don’t know what takes more courage, the staying or the running away…..  Of course, this isn’t about running away, this is about running towards…  running towards a better appreciation of the world we find ourselves living in.  A clearer knowledge of the people we share this world with.  And, hopefully, in the final result, coming to know our own selves better.  I need evenings like tonight.  To sit and relax, let all the sights and experiences simmer in my mind.  To relax into some kind of understanding.  It’s almost completely dark now.  There’s only a slight purple glistening to let me know the water is there.  The floodlit tower is pretty cool looking off to the right, thanks to some tourist agency for paying that electric bill.   There are white noise tire sounds from the highway way up behind me.  Soft voices of fellow campers.    And the twinkling lights of the villages of Tuscany.  Wait a minute.  Music.  Has to be a band, I wonder how far away, I hear guitar, bass… a singer.  Shall we take a little evening stroll? 12:20:52 PM    comment []

7-5-03    somewhere in Tuscany   Florence was an intellectual experience.  To think that so much world history happened on those streets.  When we talk about the Rennaisance, we are talking about Florence.  So many of the names I learned in school… Leonardo de Vinci, Michaelanglo, Bottochelli,  the Medicis,  Maciavelli - Florence was their home town.  So many works of art were created here…  so many incredible buildings were built.  And the art is still here, and the buildings still stand.  Florence has been in the tourist business for a long, long time.    The truth is, I really don’t care much for big cities.  On the most immediate level, they are all the same.  Dirty, crowded, everyone entirely too serious, moving way too fast. Florence is no exception. (Larry is just not impressed by the great shoes, jewelry, leather jackets, antiques and hand made baby dress Florence has to offer. Speaking of great items, if I had shopping money that Champagne Bucket we took the picture of would be coming home with me. RH)  Our campground was in a small village to the south, a relatively cheap and reasonably quick bus ride to the town center.  The first day is always the most difficult.  You would think we’re getting used to the process, and we are, but it’s difficult.  The maps are always unreliable… the streets sometimes have several names, each name has several words in it, and sometimes it’s almost impossible to make sense of it all.  The times when we can look at our map, look at a street sign, and say, yes, that’s where we are, are very rare.  So the first day, we walk, blunder about, find out the main landmarks, where and when the busses run.  Every once in a while (last Thursday night was one) we find ourselves lost and bewildered, thinking there’s no way we’ll find our way back to the campground.  We’d gotten off the bus into town at the train station thinking it was the terminal, the place where we’d get the bus at the end of the day back to the campground.  At the end of our day, about 11 o’clock, we’re ready to head back.  We knew that the number of the bus changed after dark; we walked all around the train station, couldn’t find a stop with the right number on it.  At one point we saw the bus we wanted drive right through the square.  We got out on the island hoping to catch it the next time it went by.  Sure enough in a half hour or so, here it came.  There were a couple young Italian girls hoping to catch the same bus…  they ran up to it… the doors didn’t open… they banged on the glass.   Rhona and I are standing right behind them, anxious to end this little adventure.   The driver ignored us, and when the light changed, drove on, leaving us standing on the curb. The girls didn’t speak much English but they said, “Come on.”  And we followed them down the street and around the block to a rather seedy looking square.  We sat on the well worn thousand year old steps of some damn building for another half hour…  and pretty soon, up came the bus.  The doors opened…  once again, we were on the way home….    Friday morning we went back to the city to go to the Uffitzi Gallery.  Rhona knew about it from her art classes, it was on her do not miss list.  Everybody knows about the Medicis right?  They were the rich family that ruled Florence for hundreds of years, were patrons of the most famous artists, sculptors, and architects.  One of the family became Pope and he’s the guy that hired his hometown boys, Michaelangelo and Leonardo De Vinci, to decorate the Vatican.  Well, the Uffitzi was one of the Medici’s main palaces, and the place where they kept all the art they collected through the generations.  When the last of the Medici died, she left the building and the collection to the city of Florence, on the condition that nothing ever leave the city.  Room after room of paintings right out of the Art History textbooks.   Way too many religious scenes for me, I guess there was a rule at one time that if you wanted to paint a picture, it had better be a scene out of the Bible.  I do think it’s funny that when some rich dude would hire an artist to make his something to hang over the sofa, and the painter would slip family members into the scene… like the third magi from the left, for example, might look a lot like the guy who wrote the check.  But no big surprise, I did really like the more famous pieces, like the Venus on the half shell, Bottochelli, yeah, he did that one.   So many of the paintings, especially the ones by Leonardo da Vinci were incredibly realistic, almost photographic.  Okay, I’ll say it, better than photographs.  A very high percentage of the paintings on display have been restored, they look like they could have been painted yesterday.    It’s pretty clear that the tourist business is way down this year, doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why.  I guess August is supposed to be the real crazy time when everyone in Europe takes their four week vacations.  But July is supposed to be pretty busy too.   We really didn’t have to wait that long to get into the places we wanted to see, and the campgrounds still aren’t crowded.  Hopefully by August we’ll be in Eastern Europe where hopefully it won’t be that crowded anyway.   I’m writing this in a campground outside Sienna, south of Florence, sitting in a terraced campsite that overlooks miles of the rolling hills of  Tuscany.  There’s a small village in walking distance, I think tomorrow we’ll check it out, see if we can recover from the big city.  Sienna is supposed to be a cool medieval town, not sure how to get there from here, but we’ll figure it out…         12:19:50 PM    comment []

7-3-03 Florence or Firenzi, Italy   So why do we change the name of other people’s cities?  It’s very confusing to read the map, I don’t recognize any of the names.  Ah well.  We are in another peaceful, beautiful campground.  There don’t seem to be any kids here.  Actually I just figured it out… it’s too expensive.  It’s on a hilltop above Florence/Firenzi, the closest neighbor is a monastery.  Actually I’m not sure it’s still in business, the bells still ring, that I know.  Is being a monk still a popular career choice?  We do know there are still nuns making cookies.  Yesterday we drove from Deiva Marina to Piza and stopped in to see the tower.  You are smart to put off that trip for a bit.  They are cleaning and restoring it.  They’ve got a bit done at the top, and it’s going to look great when they’re done.  Looks pretty cool right now.  I wanted to have a piece of pizza in Piza, but we were running late and had to pass on the Piza pizza and I didn’t have a chance to say “Please pass a piece of Piza Pizza,” but I guess we can go back for that one.  Rhona got some good pictures, including a shot of the tourists taking pictures of themselves either holding up or pushing over the tower.   What clever people.  Had problems with the truck yesterday, I think the battery got a little low.  We’ve been running the little refrig off the battery when we’re on the road, and I had the fan on…  So far the road from France has been mostly tunnels, so the headlights had to be on.  I think it was too much for the little alternator.  I turned off the fan and frig and everything seems to be fine.  The tunnels really are amazing, mile after mile.  There was one section where we’d go through a tunnel, then across a bridge, immediately into another tunnel, across another bridge, tunnel, bridge, tunnel….  You get the idea. 12:18:50 PM    comment []

7-1-03    Deiva Marina, Italy   This is our fourth day in this campground on the northwestern coast of Italy.  Today is a recuperation day, resting and laundry.  Unfortunately we’ve had thundershowers all morning, so we’ve got soggy clothes hanging on the line, hoping for some sunshine.  On the positive side, Cinque Terra has been everything Rick Steves promised, and then some.  This campsite is a bit crowded and noisy at times, mostly Italian families with lots of little kids running around, but it’s fun watching them.  Got a pretty serious game of two-man soccer going on right now on the other side of the van.  A sixteen-year-old Italian kid playing with his seven-year-old brother.  Doubt that happens much in the States.  All the kids here seem to hang out together.  They’ve got a little kid playground, and there’s the usual teenager boy-girl stuff going on of course, but I don’t see the separation by ages thing.  Actually, that goes for the older folks too, everybody in the family goes camping together, from great granny all the way down.  We noticed Sunday evening a lot of dads headed off to work in the city, this evening there are a lot of mommy’s talking on their cell phones.     The first morning we took the free town bus down to the train station and bought a three day Cinque Terra pass, and three days of train tickets to get us there and back.  The pass gives us access to all the walking paths, and unlimited rides on the train between the towns.  Thirty-six bucks for the two of us, a real tourist bargain.   Cinque Terra means five lands…  there are five little villages tucked into coves along the coast, connected by the train, boats, and walking trails.  The entire area is a national park, protected from development… so there are no big hotels and resorts.  The most resort like town is the first in the chain, Monterosso.  That first day we took the train to Corniglia, the third one down, a cluster of houses perched on cliffs high above the Mediterranean.  From the train station we walked up to the village, on the steep winding road through the vineyards.  After a stroll around to check out the village, we set out on the trail to the fourth town, Manarola.  Steves’ book said it was an easy walk of 45 minutes.  Well, that was true, once we got down the famous Corniglia stairway.  350 steps… no, we didn’t count, I’ll take his word for it.  The brick steps were broad and long, about two good strides each, about ten steps in each flight, zigzagging down the very steep slope.  Once back down to the level of the train tracks, it was easy going on a beautiful stone path along the cliffs to Manarola.   From there to Riomaggiore, the path is called Via Amore… and they’re serious.  It’s a walkway made for lovers.  All flagstone, level and wide, benches every fifty feet or so, it winds along the rugged coast above the beautiful jade water of the Mediterranean.  Lots of artwork along the way, some might call it graffiti.  I thought about carrying a chisel and hammer and chipping out Larry loves Rhona on one of the thousands of flat stones along the way…  black marking pen seems so tacky.  I guess I’ll have to save that idea for the next trip.   Day two we walked a more difficult section, between Vernazza, town two, and Corniglia.  It was tough, very hot, a lot of up and down on a rough, rocky trail.  No fancy stone walkway here.  Lots of gorgeous views along the way.  When we got to Corniglia we found an empty table at a restaurant in the plaza, and I had my first big ice cold liter bottle of Moretti Beer.  Pat… I remember a guy, probably in Willow Glen… Mike Moretti…  wait a minute, I think he was a San Jose cop, Mark probably remembers him… big guy…  some story I vaguely remember about him…  Anyway, his family makes a damn fine beer.  We met another traveling couple and enjoyed an hour or two of chitchat, resting and relaxing.  They were about our age, University people; he is an accounting professor in Athens, Georgia.  We talked about grandbabies and travel.   That night, back at the campground, after a few more Morettis…  I had an idea.   The plan had been to walk the last section, the most difficult, between Vernazza and Monterosso on day three.  I asked Rhona if she’d like to do it, and she said she’d had enough hiking for a while.  Couldn’t blame her.  But for me, I just felt that there was something missing….  I felt I needed to push myself a bit harder.  I decided to walk the whole trail from Riomaggiore to Monterosso.  Just to make sure the job was done right, I thought I’d walk out of Riomaggiore to a scenic outlook another twenty-five minutes down the coast.  I think every once in a while it’s good to set a challenge for yourself, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity.  My legs and knees had been bothering me after all the walking we did in Seville, but in the past week or so the soreness had gone away I’ve been feeling pretty good.  I’ve lost about 25 pounds or so, still have another twenty or so before anyone will be offering me any swimsuit modeling jobs, but I’m feeling pretty good.  Another Moretti confirmed that it was a damn fine idea.   Next morning I started off real strong… it was a very hot day, and the uphill climb to the viewpoint was difficult.  It was a preview of what was to come.  A long stone stairway past old stone houses climbed up the hill leading out of town.  Then I walked a hot asphalt road up and around several folds in the hillside up the highway towards La Spezzia.  Gee, that’s the name of that bar we liked so much in Seville, there’s a good omen.  I reached the gate to the overlook, and it was shut, so I continued up the road until I could see it cut into the hillside far below me…  okay, this is definitely the beginning.  Turned around and headed back down into Riomaggiore, then followed the markings (two stripes of paint, red and white, on the rock walls along the way) back to the Via Amore.  That was a very enjoyable, relaxing warm up, checking out the views along the way.  I got to Vernazza to the train station, walked up the passageway to the town, and there was Rhona sitting at a table talking to a couple of Americans.  Very interesting people… originally from Berkeley, they had owned a hotel in Guatemala, and are now living in Mexico… when they’re not traveling in Europe.  I joined them, but I’m motivated to do this walk, so pretty soon it’s time to move on down the next easy section. Okay, here comes the first bragging…  I climbed the stairs without stopping, all the way up into Corniglia. Hey, if I’m going to do this thing, I might as well do it all the way.  One two three four, one two three four, and a step on every count, two strides per step, ten steps per flight, swing and head back up the other way.  There was a flowering tree near the top… I was sure it was at the top, that was the goal, got there and discovered I had still another thirty yards to climb…  okay, up we go, one two three four….  Then the last of the stairs, but the little road continues uphill into town, no stopping now….   Okay, so not a marathon or anything like that, but I felt pretty good about doing it… . Passing all the young kids on the way up was fun too….   But the next section was much more serious, the part that Rhona and I had walked in the opposite direction the day before in about two hours.  It was definitely hot.  Arroyo Seco in July hot.  Make me dizzy hot.  I stopped for a good break about half way in a group of trees alongside the trail.  I was drinking water all day out of a half liter plastic bottle I refilled in each village.  Never did empty it.  The terrain is similar to Big Sur, steep hillsides down to the ocean, deep folds back inland, then back out to the ridges.  Over hundreds of years the land had been terraced with stone walls, planted with wine grapes and olive trees.  The trail climbs and descends the terraces, winding along the coast.  Finally I stumbled into Vernazza.  I think I accomplished my goal.  I got myself to that place where I really had to push myself.  I knew I could easily jump on the train and be waiting for Rhona at the beach in Monterosso, but that just wasn’t what the day was about.  I found a little bar for a cold beer, and endured the barmaid’s suggestions that what I really needed was a shower.  I’ll admit, I was soaking wet, pretty scraggly looking.  Hot and tired.  And the last section was waiting.   It was tough, much harder than the section before, maybe because I was walking it for the first time and didn’t have any familiar landmarks.  It was a steady and steep uphill most of the way.  I kept meeting people coming the other direction, and they’d say, you’re almost to the top…  you’re almost to the top.  The trail winds around another ridge and it’s more uphill.  It wasn’t until I finally reached the crest, where the trail began to descend into Monterosso, that I started feeling the afternoon cooling off.  And then a long section of stone stairway, down and down and down.  I hated to give up all the hard won altitude… but down and down, and finally, into the plaza at Monterosso, beneath the train tracks.  I knew the station was above, and that’s where Rhona was going to be waiting.  It was a quarter to six, we had agreed to meet at six thirty, so I had a little time.  There was a rinse off shower at the beach; I took full advantage, enjoying the cold water.  Back in the plaza I found a little sandwich place and treated myself to a bottle of Mr. Moretti’s finest.  Then I went looking for the train station.  It wasn’t there.  I was in a little cove, but not where I thought I was, the village itself was still one cove farther….  Oh man…  if it’s an uphill walk, I’ll just drown myself now and be done with it….  But wonder of wonders, there’s a tunnel right through the ridge… on the other side another cove, the town, the train station, and Rhona waiting….  I’m pretty sure it was the longest we’ve been apart since we got on that airplane. (Yes, he’s right and the shopping and people watching was a lot easier than his walk. RH)   12:17:44 PM    comment []

6-26-03    Carcassone   Yesterday we drove from the idyllic little campground into Figures to spend the morning at the Dali Theater and Museum.  This guy was an artist.  Blows the rest of them away, I say.  I’ve read he was a bit of a megalomaniac.  Looks to me that he had every right to be.   Maybe he just lived with more style than the rest of the world was ready to deal with.  I doubt we have any artists today that operate on the scale he did.  The story is that the city of Figureres asked him for a painting because they wanted to start a museum of his work.  He was so happy his hometown wanted to honor him; he gave them an entire museum.   The building had been the town theater, Dali had had his first showing there as a young man.  But there had been a fire and most of the theater had been destroyed.  He supervised the reconstruction of the building, creating a monument and a home for his art.  There are several large murals, and an incredible ceiling fresco.  It’s a museum, but the building itself is a work of art.  The brochure calls it the largest surrealist object in the world.   There was a long line waiting to get in, and once we got inside, the place was jammed full of people of all ages.  The entrance opened into a courtyard with a huge collage, built on and around a 40s black Cadillac convertible.  I was amazed at the incredible volume of his work, just room after room of the most interesting objects, paintings, and murals…  What an incredible imagination.  He experimented with double paintings viewed with mirrors to create 3d images, holograms… all kinds of stuff.  There was a whole separate museum of the jewelry he created…  I don’t think the pieces were made to be worn, but to be displayed as works of art.  Rhona, I’m sure, will have a lot to say. (Not a lot to say as Larry pretty much covered it, but the beating heart ruby pendent was amazing. I bought the post card because they wouldn’t let me have the real thing, but there is no way to capture the subtle movement of these tiny rubies. I think I really only need to add ART comments when Larry doesn’t like the art. He did a great job on Dali, the diversity and depth of his work was amazing to both of us and goes way beyond the melting watch images we are all familiar with.)   Today we had a very pleasant drive into France and across the French farmland to Carcassonne.   This place made a big impression on me when Jaine and I visited in ’70.   Oh, the old town is chock full of every tourist business you can think of, from five star hotels to the tackiest t-shirt shops, but it’s still impressive.  I think we got some pretty good pictures to show what it’s like.  It’s a village inside castle walls, with drawbridge, moat, the whole deal.  Rhona enjoyed the shops, and we walked outside around the walls.  It was just as amazing as it was thirty years ago.  I do think Carcassonne represents the tourist business at it’s best… serving the customer with everything they might desire, but respectfully preserving the past .   Today marks a new phase of our trip.  Tomorrow we’ll be heading into new territory - Italy.  I’m really excited; looking forward to visiting the places I’ve dreamed of since high school.  Our first stop is a favorite of Rick Steves, Cinque Terre, five villages along the northern west coast of Italy… we’ve got our destination campsite picked out.  We’re planning on a early morning takeoff, and we’ll see if we can’t cross southern France, the Riviera and reach Italy before dark…  If we don’t… we don’t….  I’m eager, but there’s no reason to push too hard.  Rhona and I agree that the fancy resorts on the French Rivera really don’t sound interesting… but you never know… wonder if they have nickel slots at the Casino in Monaco?  12:16:33 PM    comment []

Sometimes miracles happen.  Our destination today was Figueres, the birthplace of Salvador Dali, and the home of the Dali Theater and Museum.  It’s more or less on the way to our next stop, the walled city of Carcassone, in France, that was one of the highlights of the trip with Jaine in 70’s.  I know the place going to be more touristified, but I don’t care.  It’s about the revelation, you see.  In 1970 I was walking through the village in a castle and the thought hit me… “Yes, this is what I had in mind.”  Well, we haven’t even crossed the border back into France and I’m already feeling that way again.   We have a favorite campground guidebook.  The editor has a weakness for campgrounds with personality, mom and pop places where the owners work hard to create an unique atmosphere.  Oh, he’s got the big corporate places too, but the ones he picks are usually pretty high quality, clean and well designed.  Anyway, the nearest campsite in the book to Figueres turned out to be 28 kilometers out of town… that’s about twenty miles… 20 miles that we’ll have to drive back in the morning to see the museum… then again on the way to France.  We had a pilot/navigator meeting and agreed that no matter how good it sounded, it was stupid to drive that far…. So, long before we reached Figueres, we decided to stop at the first campground sign we came across and take our chances.  Usually we pass camping signs all day long.  This time, nothing, nada.  Well, maybe in town there will be a sign…  We got to the center of town and there was a Tourist Information sign, maybe they will still be open….  The sign was the last clue we got… no office, no more signs… definitely no camping signs.   We found the right road out and we are heading for the guidebook place…  almost to the crossroad where we know it’s ten kilometers further, and on the side of the road, there’s a tiny little campground sign - a quick 170 degree turn onto a single lane dirt road…  down through a field of bamboo, across some farm land….  A group of cars parked in front of a little restaurant…  some kids with instruments and a PA setup on the patio… I’m talking young kids, 10, 11, 12…  Inside the bright open modern bar-restaurant is the campground guy, I assume he’s the owner…  I have a glass of beer while Rhona does the paperwork… this is already looking pretty good.  We drive through an opening in a tall hedge, and it’s campground heaven….  All lawn…  about the size of a football field, but oval shaped, maybe a hundred spaces… probably about twenty people here.  The place is pretty new, lots of young trees and low bushes.  There’s a small, very stylish swimming pool.   Unisex bathroom, which makes Rhona just a touch nervous…   But just a gorgeous place…   Have to write the guidebook guy, I’m sure he’ll love it.   So far, the kids are pretty terrible, but even the Beatles had to start somewhere.  They take a break and the only sounds we hear are the birds discussing the sunset.   Yes… this is what I had in mind.  This is what all the stress was about… putting all those boxes in the attic, leaving everything and everyone we love behind…  this is the reason.   It’s the next morning.  Coffee and cookie time.  Yes, Rhona’s morning ritual of Diet Coke and a cookie or two is still intact.  Maybe that’s why she’s always so sane.  Last night was the feast of Saint Joan.  Seems to be a major holiday around here.  We tried to find out more about it but didn’t have much luck.  A lot of “movement” Rhona was told.  I tried to find out about Saint Joan, and I don’t think we are talking about Joan of Arc.  Actually, I think it’s Saint John, Joan is the Spanish spelling… anyway the saint’s day just happens to coincide with the summer solstice, which of course was and is a major pagan holiday.  The celebrations seem to involve setting off a lot of fireworks and staying up until dawn.  I think that’s about how long the kids played… until dawn.  Rhona walked over and checked it out at one point.  They seemed to have a pretty large and appreciative audience (mostly mothers and fathers) who especially liked the one song the kids seemed to know all the way through.  They had written it especially for the occasion.   Rhona will tell you how cute it was, and I’m not grumbling…  I did get some sleep, I’m pretty sure.   We probably missed some major doings in Sitges, but we really couldn’t get any information about what to expect…  My suspicion is that the whole idea is to stay up and watch the shortest night of the year however you choose to do it, preferably with as much fireworks as possible.  As we drove along the coast north of Barcelona yesterday, we passed through beach towns that were making preparations for street dances.  We’ve learned that the young Spaniard’s taste in music is very similar to young American’s.  Enough said on that subject, right?   I wonder what the next trend in popular music is going to be, and how soon it’s going to get here.  Am I getting old and grumpy?  Nah, it’s really that bad.  I really do wonder what the kids today sing in the shower.  Eminem?  Can you whistle rap?   We’ve had another meeting and the vote was unanimous…  this is going to be a campground, laundry day.  Campsite has nice clotheslines set up, these trees all look too puny to handle wet towels.  That relieves me of one of my major responsibilities.   I think this is a holiday.  I think the museum is closed.  We’re not going to take the chance, it’s pretty comfortable here.  We hit the Carrefores pretty hard yesterday so we’ve got a good stock of food and beverages, and the major luxury, cube ice.  They’ve probably got more at the bar.    I bought a glass jug of Sangria yesterday that I tried last night with a splash of rum… not bad, not bad at all.   Saw somewhere to use brandy, so that will be the next experiment, when the rum is gone. 12:15:18 PM    comment []