All in the family

No, I don't mean the mob -- I didn't venture that far south.

Years ago, my mother was traveling somewhere in Europe -- I want so say Italy or Germany (well, I don't want to, but facts is facts) and she had to get out of the country early (and quickly) because of some looming strike.

This morning I get to Piazzale di Roma (bus station) by 9:30. Bus takes 20 min to airport, flight isn't until 12:45. Plenty of time.

Expect that all the busses are on strike. From 9 to 12. Had I not wandered through the Jewish Ghetto in the morning ... Well, I would have slept more, actually, and still gotten to bus at same time.

(Incidentally, Jewish Ghetto has interesting history ... including origin of the word "ghetto." Look it up.)

Nobody at ticket counter or bus company seems to want to offer up any alternative. Finally I ask, "taxi?" Bus agent begrudgingly agrees that yes, a taxi is capable of transporting me to the airport.

So we (me and this French couple in same predicament, but with slightly earlier flight) run around looking for taxis. We see a taxi sign pointing down an alley. We follow it. It leads to water.

Wrong kind of taxi.

Eventually we find the correct line, but taxis are few and far between (they probably are busy not striking).

After about 20 min we finally get a taxi. And it took about five minutes for fare to reach €15-20. After the hotel credit card machine crapped out, I don't have a ton of cash left. And at this rate, this will be the most expensive 20-minute taxi ride since the Scranton incident of '89.

Fortunately, the fare was weighted early and its meteoric rise slowed dramatically as we went. So after splitting it with the French folk, wasn't so bad.

And my plane is an hour late. So I had plenty of time. Probably could have taken the bus at noon.

--

A few more thoughts on Italy ...

• If you as someone to take your pic, don't ask them to retake it six times because it's no lined up exactly perfect with the previous picture of whatever we were in front of (a picture that was better for not having you in it). And don't ask, "you need help?" unless you want me to reply, "how sturdy is your camera in relation to your skull?" Then don't ask where I'm staying. Far away from you, psycho...

• Hey post office lady, I'm sorry I apparently ruined your day by not having exact change for stamps this morning. What? You need to give me change? The horror ...

• Hey Venice ... You rock.

• This morning I saw a guy wheeling a lawnmower down some steps over a canal. Odd in and of itself, but even more so considering I saw all of maybe three lawns in Venice.

Maybe it was his day to have the mower.

Might go get an espresso now. Just to say I had one in Italy. Or I could lie about it and grab one at Tully's. Either way ...

BeanMan: Vote for water

My one full day in Venice...

Did a couple of sights (another galleria academia, San Marco's, another bell tower), saw some good art (Titan ...) and views (from tower, though you couldn't see canals from up there) and a nice ceiling (honestly, I've had enough of frescos ... So it was just lovely that St. Mark's had an amazing gold mosaic ceiling. Very impressive. Lots of gold on the exterior of this multi-domed basilica).

Also chilled in a piazza by the basilica and Doge's Palace, listening to live music and watching pigeons climb on people and chase each other around. Really was kind of amusing.

But today was mostly about wandering. Went by a couple of big areas, but mostly kept the map in my pocket and just picked a direction (in Venice, one must constantly pick directions ... And you try to vary it up so no one direction consistently feels left out by being picked last). Found a university, some folks playing hoops (sometimes they looked European, what with good passing, decent shooting and no defense or rebounding ...) and kept the map in my pocket until I reached a choice between boat bus (no ticket) or cruiseliner (no ticket).

FUN FACT: The last supper, according to one formerly prominent (dead now) eventually Venetian artist's interpretation (Veronese), took place here in Venice. Florence artists might disagree. As do Roman artists. But not those from Secaucus -- they pretty much know they've got no claim here.

Mostly ate Pizza, which is much closer to NY style than that in Florence and Rome. Good pizza.

But the real highlight was tonight. Took one of them boat busses (it's like a bus ... That floats! And not upside-down!) down the grand canal for about 20 minutes, enjoying Venice at night from the water. I think I got some great pics, too. After the boat, continued to walk around, and even learned enough of the geography to give reasonably good directions to people from the Czech Republic and Italy.

And followed my dad's advice of asking a pretty girl for directions. And boy did she give me directions, if you know what I mean. I mean she pointed out where we were on the map and instructed me how to reach my destination. Most helpful.

I wandered some more and took it all in (and many more pics), helping keep tourism the No. 1 industry here (not sure about that, but it has to be true -- we are flooding this city ... well, that would be the water, actually).

FUN FACT: Mussolini was a fascist.

So my Italian journey ends in a matter of hours, and my German jaunt begins. So much more to see here, so a little sad to go. But many more cities and much more adventure awaits. Buona serra, Italia!

What Venice holds in Storrs ...

So I get to Venice and begin to make my way along the canal toward my hotel, thinking, "Holy crap, I'm in Venice! This is so cool."

Then I hear someone say, "University of Connecticut."

I was wearing my UConn shirt. A woman in a group passing by noticed.

"Are you from Connecticut?" she asked me.

"Yeah, I'm from Storrs," I say.

(I know -- yesterday I was from Wayne, today I'm from Storrs. Deal with it.)

"So are we!" she says.

She used to teach at my middle school while I was there, though I never had a class with her. But she recognized the name, so maybe another Baum sibling had her.

We chat about Storrs and Italy (pretty much the same) and the like for a few minutes, then their group continues on ... all this thousands of miles from HuskyVille.

Too much.

Either this is an amazing string of coincidences (see prior post) or this stuff happens all the time and I just need to get out of the house (or country) more.

Anyway, I said I would write more about that meal. Appetizer plate was great, as were meal's two courses ... and the complimentary champagne. The dessert, too ... sheesh.

Good suggested eatery, those who suggested it. In fact, they had a newspaper/magazine clipping rating them one of the best 30 restaurants ... in all of Europe.

Kind of the Carl's Jr. Of Italy.

But enough about that; Firenze is so seven hours ago. Gonna wander and wander some more around Venice over the next 1½ days as the Italian portion of my trip winds down.

FUN FACT: Holy crap. I'm in Venice.

And then mom's shoe fell in the water

Tuesday in Florence... Well, after I got over my inability to figure out where I was, I finally found Academia, home of David.

Then I saw the line. Try again tomorrow. Went to Duomo. Line not as bad, but at this point I'm grumpy and impatient and have no desire to wait around. Instead, I'm comfort-fooding with gelato. A lot o' gelato.

Hey, David, Duomo ... it's not as if I was skipping anything major. My limited time here in Firenze was adding to stress level (so much, but so little), though I kept "don't worry about missing stuff" and "you're on vacation" advice in mind. It helped.

Rick Steves says Giotto's tower next to Duomo is easier to access and has better view. So, no line and a brutal 400-plus steps later, I manage to make it up ... barely. And the view is tremendous. I take pictures. Because that's what one does in situations such as these.

Eventually I meander down, feeling a little energized and motivated having finally accomplished something. I make my way down to the Uffizi, planning on getting a reservation for the next day. A friendly security guard tells me reservations already are booked for next day, so I should wait in line in morning ... or right then, but he said wait was 1.5 hours.

Drat.

Person at front of line says she had been waiting only 30 min, so I give it a shot and spend the time writing the previous blog entry. I almost get to front of line, but same friendly security guy ropes it off right in front of me. I ask him what's happening, and he explains there is a limit at a time and we still will get in.

OK, all good.

Few minutes later a woman comes by with an extra reserved ticket. Just one extra, looking for someone visiting Uffizi on his/her own.

Hi.

Advantage to reservations? No lines. But I already am at front of line, and there is actually a small reservation line. Ah, the dilemma. I abandon my people and join the elite reserves (insert political/military propaganda here).

While waiting in reservation line with the friendly family from San Francisco to go through security, our friendly security guard sees me. I already know what's coming.

"You have a reservation?"

"I do," I say, smiling and showing him the ticket.

He looks at the ticket and then back at me.

"That's very strange," he said.

I replied, "I know."

He walked away.

After all is said and done (imagine such a time ...) I get into museo about same time as my buds from other line, but only because I had to check my backpack.

But the San Franciscans refused my offer to pay for the ticket (most kind), so let's call it a win.

Uffizi was very good, very much due to Rick Steeves' guide (call it art for dummies). Only bummer was that one famous Venus painting was out on loan. Otherwise, fun/interesting/not overwhelming or absurdly long tour.

And on the tour, I kept running into the same guy (in addition to SF family) and his family... in line, inside, in the bathroom, on the way out. Granted, we entered at roughly the same time, so it wasn't shocking, but a little sign of what was to come.

I walked by Santa Croce (would return the next day when it and the leather store were open -- also gazed upon Michelango's tomb, and a couple of other famous ones. FUN FACT: Grant is not buried there.) and down to Ponte Vecchio. Some great views from the Old Bridge, especially with sunset coming. I checked the guidebook and was reminded that Piazzale Michelangelo -- way the heck up the hill from Ponte Vecchio -- was the best spot to see the sunset here. I was running out of time, so I high-tailed it up there.

After climbing the tower earlier, this wasn't easy. And the long steps toward the end took exactly three strides each for me -- which was nice, as the excruciating pain was distributed evenly between my two already iffy knees.

But I make it to the top and take in a breathtaking view (after a breathtaking climb) of Firenze below. Plenty of time for sunset. I begin chatting with these two young Americans from NJ who are here on a Rutgers study abroad program. One of them is from Wayne. Hey, I'm from Wayne! We even were born in the same hospital ... though I may have accidentally lied about what hospital I was born in. But let's just say it synced up. "Small world," he said.

They leave, I mess with all my camera settings to try to capture the spectacular sunset -- figuring a few must have come out. Then I head back down the hill, grab dinner near Ponte Vecchio and begin to meander back to the hostel.

Along the way while lingering in some Piazza, a young woman comes up to me and says "Ciao." She and her boyfriend are just staring at me. I'm wondering why these people are talking to me, then it occurs to me that these are my Turkish hostel-mates from Rome! Small world, indeed.

We chat for a minute, they ask where I'm staying. I tell them which hostel. Yep, of course, so are they. Not the same room, though. That would have been stalking. Incidentally, my hostel-mate this time was a former Florence resident -- lots of good tips. Very cool/helpful/friendly.

This morning I finally did make it to Academia and saw David -- very cool. That kid was a badass. Feels like I should write more on the sculpture, but I don't have much to add. It was remarkable to see in person. Stayed there close to 20 minutes.

They also have a small musical instrument section which included a couple of wild instruments I had never even heard of. Peeked in the Duomo, too, and will head back there after eating at the place a couple of people described as being incredible.

"Two different people have told me that this is the best food in Florence," I said to the host (who told me to come back in a little while).

He laughed.

"Well, they aren't wrong," he said.

Nice.

After those stops, going to hit a Piazza where my mother went to school during a study abroad semester in college and see if anything Syracuse still is there. Then it's off to the train and to Venice.

Probably could have spent another day here, as there is plenty more to see. That's OK -- reason to return. The adventure continues.

~~~~
Addendum:
*Food at La Giostra was ridiculous. Amazing. I didn't even know what I was eating some of the time. More on that experience later.

*Saw inside of Duomo. Art on top/inside of dome is great, as it looks like the subjects are hanging/leaning out windows.

*No sign of the 'Cuse -- not even an orange peel -- at the piazza. Sorry, mom.

FUN FACT: I might not miss my train. But then again, I might.

Hmph.

Today began slowly (for me, anyway ... and I will spare you the discussion on the cosmos, space/time and how I probably have no idea how fast or slowly anyone else's day began).

I was tired, so I slept in (which was necessary) ... after swatting away the mosquito buzzing around my head. The I spent some time on the computer (which was largely but not completely unnecessary). Finally got going, had no legs (not literally -- this isn't a NASCAR column) ... Basically, had finally hit a wall (sometimes literally -- or at least literarily).

This trip has been overwhelmingly positive and I have resisted bitching, but a few things have been nagging at me. And seeing as how I was tired and cranky -- only made worse by my bad-aim wandering (not aimless -- I did have a target, just couldn't hit it) -- I figured I'd share.

Things I hate about Italy:

• Charging €4 for a coke -- and an additional fee in some places just to sit down. A couple of glasses of house wine is cheaper, meaning it's easier to get drunk than to get a soda. Wait, why am I complaining about this?

• Lack of street manners. One American tour guide back in Rome joked that Italians have yet to learn about personal space. Guess she wasn't joking. One of my pet peeves anywhere is people with lack of sidewalk etiquette. Say you or you and your friends are taking up the entire sidewalk when someone comes walking the other way. Sure, you may have strength in numbers, but the polite thing to do is for one person to drop back and allow the other to pass.

Doesn't happen here. In fact, most make an art form out of not moving until the last possible second, if at all. Today I became tired of being polite and stopped jumping into the road to avoid people. Don't get me wrong -- I still was moving as far out of the way as possible, but I was staying on the sidewalk.

So people would come by and I would move but stand my ground ... and they either would dodge me at the last second or take a shoulder -- which shook them more off balance than it did me, as I was ready for it (think headbutt). Their reax? No biggie, keep on walking. Guess that's just how they roll.

And I got to be an obnoxious American -- fun!

Along same lines, people can be standing still in sidewalk, blocking everyone's path. I say "scusi... SCUSI."

Nothing.

So I politely tap/move person while wondering how to say, "please get the fuck out of the way" in Italian.

Other examples: not letting people off the metro before you get on, and not moving to giant open spaces on bus or metro to make room for those trying to get on.

All of this stuff happens in NYC, but really not this constantly/to the same extent.

• Gravity. OK, this annoys me everywhere, Italy included. Same with long lines (which I am in now at Uffizi b/c I didn't plan ahead, but this line actually ain't so bad). And people who starve puppies.

• Incomplete directions. Both Rome and Florence do a nice job of posting various signs directing pedestrians to various landmarks. Sort of.

Inevitably, when you get close the signs just vanish. I don't mean they disappear into thin air, as if what once was there is there no longer. That actually would be really awesome. Perhaps even more awesome than the brown pigeons they have here (incidentally, I saw a pigeon using the stairs the other day. Don't you think they'd just fly?).

Rather, the helpful signs are nowhere to be found once you get within a couple blocks of your destination. With signs, two guide books (thanks, Laz -- now can we add vid to expert archives?) and a very good map, I still had a bitch of a time orienting myself today. Which killed my already iffy mood.

• Italian drivers. If I thought about it, I'd probably be in constant fear of being run over. So I don't think about it. Much.

• Tour guides who spend a little too much time proselytizing. Art was heavily influenced by religion, and I totally dig the history, context and meaning. But I already bought a ticket for this tour; that's all you should try to sell me.

• People don't curb their dogs.

OK, that's about it. Today turned out nicely (got into Uffizi and did some other stuff, but more on that later) and my mood improved plenty. Just had to get all that out of my system.

Yes, I do feel better now. Thanks.

Coolest. Thing. Ever.

OK, an overstatement. But the Rocca Maggiore was fascinating and fun. It was bare bones, meaning they didn't add galleries, restore/change a lot. Rather, with the exception of lights, railings, walkways and window panes, the fort basically is as it was centuries ago.

What made it so much fun was that not only were there plenty of tiny and almost hidden stairwells and paths, but that they all were open. Many places like this don't let you roam free. Not the case here.

I actually started laughing out loud each time I found another tiny stairway leading somewhere; most went to archer lookouts -- one of which featured a bird that had nested on the other side of the window, quite literally making it a crow's nest (sniper jargon ... I think).

Anyway, there only were a few signs explaining the history of the place, but enough to get a taste. And it was more about halls that were barely high enough to stand in and stairwells too narrow to turn around (i actually had to back down the steps). Then there were several spiral staircases -- some original stone, one added later. All these led to soldier quarters, bigger rooms, various nooks and crannies (Owen, your head would have exploded), patio-like areas, all the archer lookouts and, best of all, the towers.

The views were outstanding.

The fort already sits atop the hill, and the towers allow for views of Assisi, San Francesco's, etc., and the valley around. The only downer was the drizzly weather, as the haziness limited the view a little. Still, had it been sunny, it might have been 85 degrees -- meaning everyone trying to make the tiring climb up the hill probably would have collapsed on the way.

If you want a lot of art and suits of armor in a castle, this isn't for you. But a well-preserved stone mammoth with fun paths and spectacular views? Ladies and gents, we have a winner.

In fact, I tried to tell the man working in the trailer that passed as a ticket counter that this was a great experience, mostly because they hadn't really messed with it. He couldn't really follow ... And when I said "authentic," it was all over.

FUN FACT: Members of the Franciscan order set up missions in what now is California. Included were San Francisco, Santa Clara (St. Clare's church and tomb also are in Assisi) and, of course, Fontana.

Or maybe LA was that last one.

On the way down the hill I walked through a quieter residential area. As I mentioned in the last entry, the streets, alleys, buildings (and homes) and stairwells were awe-inspiring.

There is shopping and eating here, and also way too many souvenir shops in the main areas. But the charm of this town -- the tomb, the fort, the architecture -- comes from places that haven't really changed over the years, where the locals haven't tried too hard.

On train now on way to Florence. I think/hope. There's really little evidence supporting that claim. If I can learn Italian in the next half-hour, maybe I can figure out where the hell I am.

In the meantime, I'll continue to contemplate whether Indiana Jones really is better than Stegosaurus. That's a tough one.

Tee more martoonis

No wifi here at hostel (wired only) means no post on today's rockin' fortress activities -- at least not until i find wifi tomorrow or install htc's sync software on this computer (the latter ain't happening ... i don't think).

I did stop at one internet cafe here in florence and asked if they had wifi. The guy says "yes, yes." Then he loads up google and does a search for "wai fai."

He had no idea what it was. Great stuff. Needless to say, he was strictly wired -- and maybe a bit unhinged.

So in the meantime, happy cinco de blinco!