Just in case I don't get to write over the next couple of days, here are some random observations from our travels over the past few:
Monday, April 16
St. Peter's is just as intimidating, overwhelming and obscene as I remembered it from 1965. The view from the dome is well worth climbing 550 steps, though, especially in late afternoon with a gathering storm and the occasional bolt of lightning in the distance. A comment from on high, perhaps, on the embarrassment of riches here?
Tuesday, April 17
American Cemetery at Nettuno/Anzio is just as impressive and moving as St. Peter's is intimidating and obscene. Unfortunately it doesn't get nearly the ink as the American cemetery at Normandy, so it's nearly deserted.
Nettuno is a charming town, and we found some great fish-stuffed ravioli at a restaurant inside the walls of the citadel.
Wednesday, April 18
Speaking of deserted, my father's 1,000-year-old hometown of Tussio, for which this blog is named, is nearly so --- at least on a Wednesday morning in the middle of the week.
We encountered a woman named Pietrangeli, who was waiting with her elderly mother to visit the local doctor. The mother had vague recollections of my father and his sister, my aunt, but I could sense not much connection. She did mention Angelo Giordani, a nephew of my aunt. We tried visiting him, but he wasn't home.
Our last stop before we left was the local cemetery, a remarkably elaborate necropolis of mausoleums, especially for such a small and ostensibly poor town. On the graves I found the names of people I had visited as a boy in 1965 but, alas, I haven't kept touch with their descendants. I also found among the dead more De Rubeises than I could count. A major genealogical research project awaits.
Thursday, April 19
Today was spent in the laundry and auto repair. Dirty clothes and a damaged tire prompted a trip to the lavanderia and Europcar. Clean clothes and a different car later, we were on our way to Bologna.
Friday, April 20
Our initial encounter with Bologna wasn't favorable. Between the graffiti and trash near our otherwise clean and comfortable hotel, I felt we were staying on the set of "Escape from New York." Thank God first impressions can be misleading. Once we found our way downtown, we discovered amazing medieval and Renaissance architecture, as well as food befitting what many consider the gastronomic capital of Italy.
Saturday, April 21 and Sunday, April 22
Venice is described as preposterous, and it's just as preposterous to describe. We stayed in a restored 19th century palazzo, toured the usual suspects (St. Mark's and the Doges' Palace), dropped a lot of money on glassware in Murano and sprang for the obligatory gondola ride from a fifth-generation gondolier.
An unexpected pleasure: Vivaldi's "Four Seasons" in Vivaldi's hometown by Interpreti Veneziani, who approach the master the way the best blues and rock artists do: with unbridled passion. They're so good they sound like they're improvising, yet they stick to the written music. Check them out at http://www.interpreti.veneziani.com/.
Getting lost here is an honored local pastime, which we indulged on several occasions, knowing that you can't get too lost. And after the din of Rome, car-less Venice is serene.
Monday, April 23
We headed for Florence via Verona, which has one of the most contrived tourist attractions anywhere this side of the Salem, Massachusetts' witch nonsense. Yes, we had to at least stop by Juliet's house and fight our way through the crowds. Paul just finished the Shakespeare play in his English class, so failure to stop here would have been unthinkable. Now that we've been there, a visit to Juliet's house is unthinkable. And on Shakespeare's 443rd birthday, no less. If it weren't such a cliche, he would be rolling in his grave.
Monday, April 16
St. Peter's is just as intimidating, overwhelming and obscene as I remembered it from 1965. The view from the dome is well worth climbing 550 steps, though, especially in late afternoon with a gathering storm and the occasional bolt of lightning in the distance. A comment from on high, perhaps, on the embarrassment of riches here?
Tuesday, April 17
American Cemetery at Nettuno/Anzio is just as impressive and moving as St. Peter's is intimidating and obscene. Unfortunately it doesn't get nearly the ink as the American cemetery at Normandy, so it's nearly deserted.
Nettuno is a charming town, and we found some great fish-stuffed ravioli at a restaurant inside the walls of the citadel.
Wednesday, April 18
Speaking of deserted, my father's 1,000-year-old hometown of Tussio, for which this blog is named, is nearly so --- at least on a Wednesday morning in the middle of the week.
We encountered a woman named Pietrangeli, who was waiting with her elderly mother to visit the local doctor. The mother had vague recollections of my father and his sister, my aunt, but I could sense not much connection. She did mention Angelo Giordani, a nephew of my aunt. We tried visiting him, but he wasn't home.
Our last stop before we left was the local cemetery, a remarkably elaborate necropolis of mausoleums, especially for such a small and ostensibly poor town. On the graves I found the names of people I had visited as a boy in 1965 but, alas, I haven't kept touch with their descendants. I also found among the dead more De Rubeises than I could count. A major genealogical research project awaits.
Thursday, April 19
Today was spent in the laundry and auto repair. Dirty clothes and a damaged tire prompted a trip to the lavanderia and Europcar. Clean clothes and a different car later, we were on our way to Bologna.
Friday, April 20
Our initial encounter with Bologna wasn't favorable. Between the graffiti and trash near our otherwise clean and comfortable hotel, I felt we were staying on the set of "Escape from New York." Thank God first impressions can be misleading. Once we found our way downtown, we discovered amazing medieval and Renaissance architecture, as well as food befitting what many consider the gastronomic capital of Italy.
Saturday, April 21 and Sunday, April 22
Venice is described as preposterous, and it's just as preposterous to describe. We stayed in a restored 19th century palazzo, toured the usual suspects (St. Mark's and the Doges' Palace), dropped a lot of money on glassware in Murano and sprang for the obligatory gondola ride from a fifth-generation gondolier.
An unexpected pleasure: Vivaldi's "Four Seasons" in Vivaldi's hometown by Interpreti Veneziani, who approach the master the way the best blues and rock artists do: with unbridled passion. They're so good they sound like they're improvising, yet they stick to the written music. Check them out at http://www.interpreti.veneziani.com/.
Getting lost here is an honored local pastime, which we indulged on several occasions, knowing that you can't get too lost. And after the din of Rome, car-less Venice is serene.
Monday, April 23
We headed for Florence via Verona, which has one of the most contrived tourist attractions anywhere this side of the Salem, Massachusetts' witch nonsense. Yes, we had to at least stop by Juliet's house and fight our way through the crowds. Paul just finished the Shakespeare play in his English class, so failure to stop here would have been unthinkable. Now that we've been there, a visit to Juliet's house is unthinkable. And on Shakespeare's 443rd birthday, no less. If it weren't such a cliche, he would be rolling in his grave.
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