Florence to Paris, and worlds apart

The alarm went off at 4:20 am Sunday, 30 July but it didn’t matter – I was already up and out of bed. I slept very little Saturday night and in fact didn’t slept well Friday either, attributing it to the fact that our fans had been packed up and shipped off Friday morning, While the air in the apartment was not hot -- we had a/c -- we had no air movement and our bedroom particularly was somewhat stifling. And I could have sworn there was a mosquito somewhere hovering around the bed just waiting for me to drop off in order to start dining. (photo: five, well ok six flights.)

So we were up, got showered, dressed and put the final touches on packing and soon headed out the door. Turning off the lights and leaving our keys in the apartment left us with a slightly odd feeling, as if somehow we should have them with us in case we needed to return. But we weren’t going to be coming back, at least not to this place, and probably not to Florence. Of course who would have imagined in 1994 when we caught our first glimpse of Florence and told ourselves, this is not someplace I would care to live in. Yet that is exactly what we have done. So never say never.

It was an easy and quiet walk to the train station to meet the bus that would take us to Pisa airport. The sun was just starting to come up as we left our apartment building and walked down Via dei Servi one last time to the Piazza Duomo and then turned right heading toward the station. A few people were out in the morning – returning from parties or just out for a stroll before the hordes of tourists descended upon these streets. For us it was a refreshing change to have the streets of Florence pretty much to ourselves –at least once anyway.

We got to the station a few minutes before the bus was to. Unlike the urban (ATAF) and extra-urban (SITA) bus lines which we have used often, this bus system, called Terravision, runs only between downtown Florence and Pisa airport. But they are certainly tourist-savvy -- we scheduled our departure and ordered our tickets online – a very user-friendly website.

The bus arrived, probably 15 minutes late but after everyone loaded their bags in the cargo compartment – and there were lots of folks heading to the airport – we were off heading west toward Pisa.

We arrived at the airport early even though we started a few minutes late and had a driver who is probably one of three people in the country who goes slower than the speed limit!

But we had plenty of time to spare that’s for sure and after we checked in at the easyJet counter we decided to grab a coffee and sit outside along with some 3000 smokers before going through security.

Our flight was on time in arriving from Paris Orly and on time in returning there as well. It was uneventful and took us only about 90 minutes but it was certainly a change of worlds. Passing over the Alps is always an awe-inspiring experience and on Sunday we had a grand view from our window. Apparently someone had forgotten to put us over the wing where we have usually found ourselves on most flights.

After we picked up our bags we headed to the OrlyBus stop just outside the arrivals gate H, bought our tickets and soon we were off to Denfert Rochereau – in fact repeating our journey from this past May. We arrived at Denfert R. metro station – also the location of the nearby Paris Catacombs where the bones of more than 6 million Parisians are resting. We spied a taxi as soon as we got off the bus, flagged it down and were off heading to 46 rue Poliveau, our home for the next eight months or so.

A few minutes later the cab driver dropped us at our front door. I had planned to tip him a euro but then he overcharged us for the baggage: the fare was €6 and he charged us €8, which included the two pieces of baggage. Well the small print is that the first bag is free so it all evened out I suppose.

We had arranged to meet our landlady Andrea (“Drea”) at the small café on the ground floor of our apartment building, around 1:00 pm but since we arrived at a little after noon – we decided to have lunch there and wait for her to show up.

We sat outside even though it looked like rain was in the wind – indeed the temps are significantly cooler than in Florence, for which we were and are mightily grateful. The breezes reminded us of being near the sea in Puglia. We cannot believe the wonderful weather here.

Anyway, the fellow running the show by himself this early Sunday afternoon was pleasant and using a combination of English, Italian and the few words of French we do know, the two of us ordered a nice goat cheese open faced sandwich (“croques”) and white wine for lunch. As we have discovered in the past goat cheese is apparently something that must be consumed by every Frenchman on a daily basis for it is everywhere and eaten in a wide variety of ways: stuffed into thin egg roll-like wraps and flash fried, topped onto slices of bread and broiled along with another cheese for an open-faced cheese sandwich (which is what we had), topped onto fried potatoes and then placed over a bed of greens with a mustard dressing. I cannot wait to see the other ways goat cheese – or cheese in general – is consumed in this country. Rather I cannot wait to try those “other ways.”

So we sat admiring the new little neighborhood where we would be spending the next few months of our lives. Directly across from where we were sitting is a small tiny triangular-shaped park that actually separates two streets, which split off from one. On our left corner is a butcher shop (“boucherie”), next to that going clockwise is a restaurant, then across a street on the corner is a hair salon, and across another street and moving across our front from where we were sitting is a tiny fruit and vegetable stand on the corner and then a take-out Asian “traiteur”, and then coming back to our side of the street is small grocery shop, then our café. To our immediate left across the street is a Vietnamese restaurant and behind us is the door to our apartment building. Next to the door, on the right hand side as you’re facing it is still another little grocery shop.

Pretty amazing and yet as we will soon discover these types of neighborhoods abound literally everywhere.

At about 1:00 pm Drea showed up and we sat and talked for a bit as we finished lunch. Although born in Paris her parents are Americans, both professional historians in fact, her father a specialist in European history and her mother in Colonial US history. Drea studied art history, and has lived in Paris for some years before getting married and moving to Holland.

But we came to settle in so we grabbed our bags and walked around the corner and into the apartment building. We then hiked the five flights of stairs to our apartment, “5 right”.

(While five flights of stairs may seem like a lot in fact in our building it only comprises 80 steps; our apartment in Florence was on the second floor and yet it was 76 steps to get to it. Of course we had an elevator but we always walked down and usually walked up so we were well prepared for this change.)


As soon as we walked inside we knew we had made the right decision. From the overall space, to the bathroom, to having two bedrooms, to the kitchen (just what we figured we would need) to the fact that we now had a balcony –a wrap-around balcony, narrow to be sure but we can still sit outside – and such light, air and fresh breezes blowing through the apartment we thought this was what have been looking for all along, to the feel that this was a home, we had made the right choice. (photo: small but oh so wonderful!)


We spent some time talking over the details with Drea, like how things work, where things are, our ADSL line which will be set up in the next couple of weeks we hope, all the things that make up most of the waking moments of our lives, like paying the rent, that sort of thing. There were one or two things we needed to sign to get up and running eventually with our internet connection –which by the way we were told, or rather Drea was told might give us unlimited free calls to the US – so we arranged to meet with Drea the next day at the nearby Jardin des Plantes, just a block away in fact, where the zoo is also located. She was going to have her little boy with her and thought it might be a good location to keep him a bit distracted while we wrapped up the details of settling into the apartment. (photo: living room.)

It had been a grand day for Susan and I, and indeed we count ourselves among the fortunate to be able to find a bit of tranquility in the big city. And while we never thought of ourselves as city people, it is ironic that the last 12 years or so have seen us move to ever-increasingly larger cities: from Chittenden to Rutland in Vermont, from Rutland to Siena, Italy, from Siena to Florence and now from Florence we find ourselves in one of the world’s most beautiful cities.

Notwithstanding the poetry of the place, after Drea left I stretched out on the sofa and took a nap. Later on, in the early evening I walked across the street and ordered some Asian takeout. We turned in early and slept like babies for 10 hours.

We were home.

Wish you were here,

Steve

Last day in Florence, L'ultimo giorno a firenze

Saturday 29 July was hot in Florence – again – and promised to stay that way all day. It comes as little surprise now to see handwritten signs on doors or windows of local businesses saying that they will be closed until the end of August or early September as more and more Italians wrap their affairs up and leave for the beach or mountains or wherever, anywhere to get away from the heat for their August holiday. This “get out of town in August” thing isn’t confined to Italy either, as we would see plenty of businesses closed in Paris for August as well. (photo: Daniel and Susan at the Mosaic workshop.)

The heat notwithstanding we counted ourselves fortunate – enjoying our a/c while finishing packing the last of our things for the Big Move to Paris on Sunday. We’re taking the absolute minimum amount of stuff – computer, a few summer clothes, and various odds and ends to get our new home in order as son as we arrive -- and just keeping our fingers crossed that the rest of our household goods arrive in the next week or so.

Our friend Daniela from Germany sent us a text message this morning that she was coming up to Florence from Siena by bus – we had planned to see her today and relieved that she would be able to make it before we left. So we strolled over to the bus station about 10 am, just before her bus pulled in. The three of us left the SITA bus station, passed beneath the train station at Santa Maria Novella and started walking up Via Nazionale toward the central market (“mercato centrale”), stopping at the Alinari photographic showroom along the way. Daniela has an eye for taking photos and I wanted her to see the Alinari showroom. The Alinari photographic archive contains one of the largest collections of old photos of Italy – and Tuscany in particular – and also produces a number of very nice and reasonably priced books of portions of their collections. Anyway they were closed – it was Saturday after all – and so we walked on, skirting the central market, and ending up at the OK bar across from our apartment.

We sat and had coffee and chatted for a while as we decided what to do with the day – heat or no heat.

From the OK we walked over to the mosaic workshop (“Mosaici Laboratorio”) that we discovered this past winter. This was probably our fourth time there and as always we were awed by the work done in this former convent. Truly amazing using tools and methods from the Renaissance era they produce fantastic artwork indeed.

We left the mosaics behinds us and walked through Piazza Santa Croce, just around the corner really – although you wouldn’t know it since few tourists and no tour groups ever get this far (50 mtrs) off the well-worn tourist pack. I often wonder if it was like this for the religious pilgrims who used to visit these places in the middle ages. Probably.

Anyway the piazza was packed, or rather the area around the piazza was packed with people since the grandstands and chairs were still set up for the Benigni show where he has been reading from Dante’s divine comedy – a one-man show which runs until sometime in mid-August I believe. Tickets might still be available but I doubt it.


From Santa Croce we headed toward the Arno but then turned off just before the river onto Via Neri, and strolled up and through the Piazza Signoria, where we just hung around watching the people, photographing the statuary – I never tire of that and apparently neither did Daniela – and then headed off, passing through Piazza della Repubblica and finally ending up at a little osteria, “del Porcellino” (Via Val di Lamona). I would not recommend this place: the food was so-so (Susan’s risotto was overcooked and we thought used long-grain rice) while the prices were rather inflated – sticking us with a price fixe (“prezzo fisso”) after the fact. (photo: on the Piazza Signoria; one bag in, one bag out.)

The three of us left and headed back to our apartment where we talked for a while longer, mostly about everyone’s future, since all our lives are heading for big changes soon. For us it’s Paris and for Daniela it’s leaving for the US to meet up with her husband in Reno, NV.

We walked back to the bus station and arrived just moments before the Siena (“rapida”) was to leave – so we said arrivaderci to Daniela and couldn’t help but wonder when we would see her again.

It was back to the apartment to finish packing. Later on in the evening we went back to the OK for a light supper before turning in and to sort of say goodbye to the neighborhood. We had already said arrivaderci to Massimo and Marta at the Osteria Ortolano and to Francesca at Milligan & Milligan on Friday.

We crossed the street one more time from the Ok – no more dolce in the morning, no more plates of pasta for pranzo in the afternoon, no more aperitivi in the early evening -- and went to bed. We have an early call Sunday morning, and have to be at the train station by 5:50 am.

Wish you were here,

Steve

New food, new bank, old duomo

OK the food first.

Wednesday night we met up with Melinda and Dave for dinner at Trattoria Cibreo, on via de’ Macci (right near the corner of Borgo La Croce). Back in the winter Susan and I had eaten at the Ristorante Cibreo with Nan and Jay who were traveling from Virginia. The four of us had such a great meal at the ristorante that night that Susan and I were determined to try their trattoria right next door – the same great food out of the same kitchen but significantly less expensive -- all of which by the way is true. In addition, they also have a Caffe Cibreo across one street as well as a dinner theater across via de’ Macci. (photo: detail from one of the doors at the front of the Duomo.)

Melinda suggested we get there early since they don’t take reservations and the trattoria only seats maybe 30-40 people max so we arrived at 7:00 pm just a few minutes after Melinda and Dave. After we sat down the waiter/maitre’d/head guy/only guy came to our table and handed us menus and we ordered prosecco all around. A few moments later they brought us four large white wine glasses filled with delicious sparkling wine and we knew we were off to a great start.

Throughout the evening we noticed that the majority of the clientele were tourists, or at least people of non-Italian extraction: French, British, Americans, lots of tourists to be sure. Yet the simple menu was in Italian only and the fellow who handled the entire room superbly with just one staffer to assist him, patiently explained each item on the menu to those who required it: in French, in English whatever; pretty impressive.

Our food was delicious: the first course (“primi”) of polenta for Susan and Melinda was creamy, buttery and ever so smooth and tasty, while Dave and I had a sformato of potato, rather like a soufflé I suppose and we both thoroughly enjoyed it. For the secondi or second course, Melinda’s pureed salt cod on toast was scrumptious and Susan’s cod stew was equally delicious. Dave and I both had veal but prepared differently. His was more of a roast while mine was thin slices with a tuna sauce with capers (“vitello tonnato”) and served cold. Outstanding.

The waiter suggested a wine from the producer Il Grillesino in the Maremma in southwestern Tuscany, a wine similar to Morellino di Scansano which was well-paired with everything.

The portions were perfect as well and the prices reasonable indeed. Food and wine came to a total of €114 for the four of us. Not bad, not bad at all, particularly for Florence.

After dinner the four of us strolled for a bit and said arrivaderci – hoping to catch up with each other either in Paris or maybe back in Florence. It has been great being able to meet up with these guys, to talk about food, wine and travel and surviving as independent travelers. Such relationships are the hallmark of independent travel in fact and one could hardly survive otherwise.

Now the bank.

It turns out that while we were gone to Puglia there had been a fire on the ground floor of our apartment building. It had apparently started at one of the computer workstations in the bank there and gutted the suite of offices but fortunately remained contained to just the bank and since it had happened when no one was there were no injuries. But, and we’re not sure of this, we think the bank was the source of our WiFi connection ever since we’ve lived here since our connection is now gone totally. Coincidence perhaps.

But what has us most amazed is the speed with which the bank is being readied to reopen. They have been working almost round the clock to clean and remodel the bank.

Meanwhile . . . if you were to be here in Florence right now you would find much of the Duomo and the baptistery across the piazza both in serious scaffolding – with virtually no work being done on either structure, or at least none we’ve ever seen.

Go figure.

Still hot here in Florence.

Wish you were here.

Steve

L’ultima volta a Siena

Well of course we hope yesterday wasn’t our “last time” in Siena but we did want to get back to our favorite city one more time before we headed off into the unknown of northern France amidst the uncertainties waiting for us among the wilds of the Frankish kingdom. That and of course we had some work to do as well. (photo: Aimone of the Cantina in Piazza enoteca.)

We had at last been able to schedule a time to do some voiceover taping with Patti and Roberto – they had arranged for a friend of theirs who has a pretty good grasp of English to help us out in our quest to move the Tuscan Voices project further on down the podcast road at least. After some double checking with Patti about schedules we decided to take the train to Siena instead of the bus so we could arrive a little earlier and accomplish what we wanted to for the day.

Roberto picked us up at the train station and we headed off to his home outside of Asciano, among the clay hills south of Siena. But today the clay hills were a complete golden yellow hue due to the recent haying that had just been completed. Huge rectangular and round hay bales were scattered everywhere. Anyway, the drive alone was worth the trip, and we realized we had not seen this particular view of the Sienese countryside before, never having been there in July or August. It made us aware of how much we were going to miss this very special part of the world and how soon as well.

We got to The Bechi home and after a few minutes Patti took the kids into town to play and leave us to tape in peace and quiet. Patti had had the foresight to spend some quality time with our voiceover person Sandro all morning, going over the transcripts so he could familiarize himself by actual reading his lines out loud. (He had already been given copies so he knew the dialogues already.) It was also a perfect opportunity to do some last minute editing and get the pronunciations ironed out.

After Patti left with the kids we turned to taping in earnest and before long we had finished the two interviews, which had been our target for the day. Sandro left and Roberto fixed lunch for the three of us (some of Patti’s delicious flatbread, marinated tomatoes with mozzarella and a delicious fruit cobbler).

Just as we were preparing to leave Patti returned with the kids and we chatted for a few minutes, talking about when we might be able to move forward on the remaining 9 interviews. We said arrivaderci and Roberto took us back to Siena, dropping us off at the Hotel Duomo in the centro storico.

We freshened up, and then strolled off to see Aimone and Alessandra at Cantina in Piazza.


We spent a nice afternoon talking – mostly in Italian – about the usual things: food, wine, Italy, Florence (dirty), Siena (clean), wine and food of course. Aimone asked if we would be willing to try an experiment and naturally we said yes – knowing that with him such a question always involved food and/or wine. In this case it was food: gelato to be specific but gelato with a twist, or rather with “aceto balsamico” (“tradizionale” which is aged at least 12 years in barrels). Aimone went to a nearby gelateria and came back with a Styrofoam dish with four flavors of gelato in it: vanilla, cherry, pistachio and stracciatella (chocolate bits in vanilla). We tried each flavor one by one, and each with a few healthy drops of the” balsamico” on it. Contrary to what you might think not only were they edible but they were delicious, and the cherry and pistachio in particular were outstanding with the balance of the acid from the “balsamico”. (photo: Susan sampling gelato with aceto balsamico.)

We soon found the courage to get up and choose some wines to take home with us. After saying goodbye we headed off to the hotel, where we dropped our wines off and then headed back out, this time to the Piazza del Campo, where we found a comfortable place to sit and sip some cold white wine, drink plenty of water and watch the world walk past.

After a couple of hours we returned to the hotel, showered (an hourly necessity in this heat) and relaxed in the room and read until it was time to go out for the evening.

We strolled leisurely past some of our favorite spots and ended up at Nannini’s for an aperitivo: negroni sbagliati, made in half-gallon glasses by the indomitable Lorenzo. We sipped and sipped and sipped until at last the red nectar was gone and it was time for dinner. We decided to try a new place for a change, somewhere we had never been and so we walked over to Le Campane, on Via delle Campane, just a stone’s throw from the Campo. Although it was pretty full when we got there and we didn’t have a reservation they seated us anyway and we had s superb meal, ravioli stuffed with asparagus and duck breast in a chianti sauce.

Just after we sat down I got a text message from our friend Daniela, a German woman we had met last year when we were all students at Dante Alighieri in Siena. She had sent us an email a couple of days back saying she was coming back for three weeks of classes and would be arriving in Siena on Sunday, the 23rd. I sent her a note saying well guess what? So are we!

We arranged to meet her after dinner on the Campo and so we did – her hair was shorter but still with a great smile and after we caught up on the news from both of our lives – her husband is now out of the Army and back at home in Reno where she will soon join him – we arranged to meet together in Florence next Saturday.

We said buona notte to Daniela, and on the way back to the hotel stopped off at our favorite spot for gelato.

A fine day all the way around.

“Fa caldo tremendo”

It’s terribly hot here; in fact I think it’s safe to safe that it’s beastly hot in Florence – again. More than 100 degrees today and the same ultra hot weather is predicted for tomorrow, and for Saturday and on into Sunday and Monday and until who knows when.


But it was beautiful in southern Italy, in Puglia at any rate, and we had a grand time visiting the Tampone family as they celebrated the18th birthday of their youngest child, Antonio – they have two other children, both daughters, Angela and the oldest Luisa. The air was cool and fresh and the wind just right, with virtually no humidity. (photo: Antonio Tampone.)

We left Florence on a late morning train Tuesday, picked up our tickets at the station from one of the self-service machines (we had ordered them online) and connected in Rome for Foggia. After an uneventful trip of about 6 hours we found ourselves at the train station in Foggia at a little after 5 pm. Foggia is located at the northern end of the region of Puglia, which is a long strip of Italy that makes up the “heel” of the boot. Luisa and her father Peppino and grandfather Vito were all there to meet us and after hugs and kisses all around – the only other men I’ve ever kissed besides my father are Italians oddly enough – we piled into Peppino’s Pontiac (!?) van and headed out of the city for the drive to Cerignola which is about 35 kms away.

After we arrived Rosa fed us and we talked and caught up on all the little details of our lives as we sat out on their balcony of their new apartment, which has a lovely view of the city and its large Duomo.

As we gazed over the rooftops, most of which are certainly new in the past 30 or 40 years, Susan and I couldn’t help but wonder about the fact that when her father was in Cerignola in 1944, would he ever have imagined that his children would come to visit this place? We thought it odd in a curious way and certainly more than coincidental that not only have we found friends here in a place few tourists and even fewer Americans visit but in a place which had such an impact on the life of a man who at the moment he was here had no idea where his life was going to take him.
We slept well that night and the next morning had a leisurely breakfast outside on their balcony, enjoying the fresh air and morning sunshine. If you can believe it this was my first taste of Nutella, the Italian version of peanut butter but made with hazelnuts and chocolate. Rosa spread it on bread for me and force fed me – not against my will I might add – and even put the remainder in my coffee, which is pretty much my favorite way of ingesting Nutella.



About 11 am Luisa, Angela and Susan and I left for the beach. Peppino was at work – he and Rosa are both nurses as are several of their siblings as well – and Rosa opted to stay and prepare lunch. So the four of us headed off for Margherita di Savoia beach (“la spiaggia”) and after a drive of about 20 or 30 minutes were at the Adriatic Sea.(photo: Susan catching the rays on the Adriatic Sea.)


The beaches in Italy are by and large free and open to the public, at least here in Puglia (and at least according to Luisa). However many Italians choose not to use the wide open free beach areas – which are not always well maintained or easy to get to – and therefore choose the “lido”, or semi-private beach. For a small fee you get an umbrella (which is permanently affixed) and nice lounge chairs and then you have your own little spot on the beach – among 10,000 other folks of like mind of course. But what we saw was very nice and well maintained, and of course there are bathrooms available and some places we saw have an almost theme park like atmosphere to them, with games and playgrounds and all sorts of things for the young and the young at heart. And Margherita was no exception. (That’s right, she’s the same Margherita for whom the pizza was named.)

Our particular lido, “Lido Reale”, was quite nice, and we had a spectacular view not only of the sea but of the enormous Gargano peninsula (the “spur” of the boot) which stretches out eastward into the Adriatic. After we settled in – Luisa’s future mother-in-law Tina joined us for the afternoon – we all headed off down the beach for a passegiata. It gave us a very nice opportunity to see exactly how these beaches are set up – and it was pretty slick too. Long lines of large rocks and cement blocks were set in place at intervals to make superb breakwaters which in turn formed narrow tidal pools ideal for walking and wading as well as areas for swimming. Pretty cool we thought. We also got to see what has to be one of the world’s largest phlegm-like creatures, some snail sort of thing sans shell which was trying futilely to move around in the sand, but likely to become food for something else real soon. We also saw a Portuguese Man-of-War jellyfish wash up right near where we were lounging.

After our stroll we had a bite to eat and then all of us grabbed some lounge chair space for a siesta and snoozed away the early part of the afternoon, as the breezes swept in off the sea; quite idyllic really.

We packed up about 3:00 in the afternoon and headed back to the Tampone apartment where Rosa had a baked pasta dish waiting for us. We then all took a nap (!) until the family started to rouse later in the afternoon – OK actually earlier in the evening - to get ready for the big party.

About 9:00 Angela, Luisa, Susan and I left Rosa and Peppino – Peppino was getting over some pretty horrible dental issues from earlier in the day – and the four of us headed over to the ristorante where the party was to be held. We were about the first to arrive but shortly afterwards the rest of the various extended family members began arriving- aunts, uncles, siblings, cousins, vertical cousins, horizontal cousins, all sorts of family members were in attendance for the occasion. The food was outstanding – it seems most Italians are fairly intolerant of mediocre food being served to them anywhere – and we enjoyed the local wines as well: a white and a rose (“rosato”) from the area near Castel del Monte, which also happens to be one of the coolest places to visit in Italy by the way and a fine mystery to boot. (The mystery lies in the fact that it is a “2-storey” castle, octagonal in shape, nearly bleach white, built by Frederick II more than 700 years ago, each room of which is identical in size and shape to the one next to it and the one below it. No one knows for certain why it was built or what it’s purpose may have been. The thing they do know is where the toilets were though, and they are a curiosity in and of themselves.)


After we had a round of toasts and gifts were given to the new young man – no more “ragazzo” but now an “adulto” Antonio’s friends from school began arriving as did a number of young ladies, among whom were of course Antonio’s girlfriend Christina and her two sisters (an incredible-looking threesome).



(photo: Christina in between her two older sisters.)

There was much gaiety and laughter throughout the evening and on into the early morning. Susan and I left with Rosa and Peppino about 1 am and headed home and to bed.

Another leisurely morning of fresh air and warm sunshine greeted us – or me rather since I think I was the first up and about. After coffee and breakfast we talked a bit about our return in February for Luisa’s wedding – she and Elio are getting married on February 8 and we’ve been invited so of course we are trying to figure out how we’re going to get to Cerignola from Paris. We can’t wait.

We said arrivaderci to Rosa and Peppino, and since Peppino had another appointment with the dentist in the morning Luisa drove us to the Cerignola train station where we caught the local train to Foggia and connected with our Eurostar train to Bologna, arriving there about 5:20 pm. The train took us straight up the coast of the Adriatic all the way to Rimini, stopping in Ancona along the way. Along the way we got wonderful views of the sea and a general idea as to where the Italian tourists are going that’s for sure. So many of the cities and towns along the coast are little more than havens for sunbathers, and one wonders what they must be like in the wintertime. Some cities like Pesaro and even Rimini looked very nice from where we sat, reminding us of other ocean front communities in other parts of the world – such as the southeastern US.

We made our connection to Florence with time to spare since it was about 15 minutes late coming from Milan -- and after a quick stop at the ATM at the train station were back in our apartment by 7:30. It seems that the day we left there was a fire on the ground floor of our building that destroyed the bank office there – fortunately no one was injured and it had little impact on any other part of the structure. But the smell was pretty nasty. And it seems we also lost our WiFi access as well – so my assumption is that it apparently came from the bank. Odd timing to be sure.

So we unloaded our bags, turned the AC on and stepped across the street to the OK bar where we sat outside in the heat but with a very nice breeze and drank cold white wine while we contemplated the nature of the universe and, more importantly, what I was going to fix for supper. Once that was decided we paid the bill and went back home, had dinner, relaxed and talked for a while and then slept soundly once again.

It’s great to be alive.

Wish you were here.

Steve