A day of "nothing" in Manarola

We spend the day walking around, swimming, reading, taking pictures . . . basically doing "nothing," in vacation-speak.  At the end of the daylight we were at the end of a spit of land from which we could see Manarola glimmering in the sunset in one direction--and then just by turning our heads, see the sun itself sinking behind the coastline.  What a beautiful spot.  We met some fellow Americans who've been on a world tour and swapped some stories.  And then had squid ink pasta for desert.  Lovely.

Pisa and Cinqueterre

Leaning tree ... problem solved!

The next leg of our trip was to Manarola (Cinqueterre) by way of Pisa.  We had to stop there to see the leaning tower of, because Gary had never seen it before.  And it did not fail to astound.  I pointed out that it was not only leaning but curved, which amuses me to no end.

Gary doing his best.

The source of the problem ... at this point
the base is sloped like a spiral walkway.

And then … The lesson in driving a stick shift.  Yes, I want to learn this, desperately (there’s a fine sports car waiting at the end of the learning curve.) No, I am not really comfortable (given that the last time I drove an automatic, I had a panic attack and left my family stranded on a bridge in Croatia . . .).  The lesson went ok, but I think Gary saw that there was NO WAY that I was going to drive part of the way to Manarola. 

He humored me by saying I’d done a good job.

And then on to Manarola, one of/part of the Cinque Terre.  I had said that all I wanted to do in Italy was BE.  I don’t need to see more churches right now, or climb mountains.  My heart always wants to walk into a forest and just sit.  For hours.  This is similar. The setting is spectacular.  The town is quaint and humble, with just enough of a tourist infrastructure that we don’t feel stranded or out of place.  The water is warm.  The Mediterranean waves lap against the not-too-sharp rocks.  People tend their vineyards and lemon trees up and down the sides of the steep hillside.  And … this is the home of limoncello.  What could be better?

View from terrace

Our breakfast nook

Manarola

Rome

(For a few more pix, go here:  http://www.flickr.com/photos/dwydra/ )

Roman Caesar talking on his cell phone.

The Holtzbrinck business conference that brings us here was quite eventful … but this isn’t the place to talk about that.  One highlight, though, was visiting the Sistine Chapel.  I had seen it once before, many many years ago, when it was still all covered with schmutz, dark and obscure.  Now, all restored, the images are resplendent—not at all garish, which was the criticism I heard in the 1980s (“Surely Michelangelo didn’t intend the sky to be so blue and the robe to be so red!!”)  It was beautiful.  And the transformation made me cry.  Sometimes humans are not so bad after all.

Daphne foiling Apollo

I should also mention the final dinner we had at the Villa Borghese.  The estate itself, with gardens and glorious architecture, is absurdly beautiful—graced even further by all the lovely and interesting people who were there that evening.  We had a tour of the private art collection, and although there were perhaps a few too many references to the fact that our guide shared the same name as the Pope who built the Villa (Paolo), the art was stunning, and I’m very grateful that I got a chance to see it up close.   http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borghese_Collection Two Bernini sculptures in particular stood out for me—Aeneas escaping with his father and son and Daphne escaping Apollo by turning into a tree.  (I am a little discomfited by the amount of art I've seen so far on this trip that glorify rapes of one kind or another.  But I think Daphne showed very good sense in turning into a tree.  Much better than turning into a cow.)  And then there were the decadently profane and luscious Caravaggios, 5 of them, hung right in front of my nose.  How lucky I am to be seeing them up close, with as much time as I like, not pressed by any boisterous crowds to move along, or forced by anyone to listen to endless prattle. 

Coliseum

After the meeting, Gary and I had another day in Rome, which we used to visit the Coliseum, Palatine Hill, and the Forum.  All I can say is, Rome is pretty darn old, and there is lots and lots of old stuff lying around.

Seat in the Coliseum of a Roman senator,
with his name carved into it.

Lots of old stuff lying around.

I did have to make a couple of business phone calls
while I was there, but it was SO lovely to be able to
call the office from the Forum, rather than anywhere
else in the world.

Titus's Arch, depicting the sack of Jerusalem

Forum 

Gary had rented a car, and here is what I have to say about driving in Rome:

• All drivers are about 5 times as aggressive and unpredictable as NYC taxi drivers
• Motor scooters zipping in and out
•  Dearth of traffic signals and lanes are kind of conceptual
•  About half the streets one way (and WHY don’t maps ever show that????!!)
• Pedestrians expect you to stop for them, wherever and whenever they emerge (nothing like a “walk signal” at most corners)
• Not much honking … because everyone here is actually completely skilled in driving this way 
•  ­­­­­­Lots of sudden braking (at least on our part)

In the evening we checked into one of the funkiest little boutique hotels I’ve ever been in.  I think it must specialize in *a certain type* of excursion, as witnessed by the bathtub in the bedroom, with the disco ball hanging over it.  And as for the shower . . . Gary said, “I’ll give you one hint.  The top control is for temperature.  The rest of i­­­­t is your adventure to explore.”  And it was quite a lively adventure.

They DO serve a mean breakfast, though.

First day in Italy

Contact lens solution and sunglasses.  That’s it so far.  Pretty good.

With every trip, I expect to forget a few things.  Why not just build that into the plan?  It makes “mistakes” (what a judgmental word!) so much more interesting.  Every item forgotten, every navigational misstep (I always let myself have one for free) turns into an opportunity for recovery.  Here in Italy, we’ve already used the forgotten sunglasses as an opportunity to stop at an impromptu market on the sidewalk, try on a few pair, and purchase a stunning set of plastic sunglasses for the whopping fee of about $6.

Gary, in a totally uncandid (took 3 tries) moment.

(Finding contact lens solution—although on the surface a far more prosaic need—could yet turn out to be the more interesting adventure, as it will inevitably drag us into some exploration (starting with the concierge, no doubt of the commercial Italian health care vendors.  Pharmacy?  Apothecary?  Supermarket?  Who knows where such an item can be purchased or what it’s called?  But that’s for tomorrow . . . )

ANYWAY, here we are in Rome, sleep deprived (Gary is currently napping) but safe.  It’s the “get adjusted” day before the Holtzbrinck meeting begins in earnest. 

I'm named after Bacchus/Dionysus, the god of wine.  Cool, right?

After we checked in and unpacked, I wanted to just walk, so we got directions for the Vatican City, the closest tourist destination.   No problem walking there—even with a “Warstadt shortcut”—but once we were in the vicinity of the Vatican Museum, we entered a black hole.  We were not able to leave the gravitational field, no matter how hard we tried. 

It happened like this.  We found the old city’s walls and followed a crowd up the sidewalk.  At the top of the hill, it appeared we were going into the museum.  But we really just wanted to get into the city itself and walk around.  Gary asked 3 people what he should do if he just wanted to “get into the city and walk around” … and every explanation basically involved going inside, upstairs, and buying a ticket.  I was skeptical, but I’ve heard of weirder things.  Gary said they need the money (!).  So we went inside, went upstairs … and found ourselves in the museum!!!  Oh well.  Since we were there (and since the hottest part of the day was coming on, we decided to walk around and see what there was to be seen.  Gary feels duped by the Catholic Church.  I told him to get in line.

A big toe, in the Vatican Museum.

There’s just so much there.  It’s definitely not the place to come when you’re sleep deprived and dazed by the sun, exhaustion and dehydration.  I found myself focusing on the tiny details—they were as much as I could absorb.  A big toe from some colossal sculpture, he abstract pattern of tiles on the floor in one room, the fact that the head on the “statue of Sappho” was actually probably a portrait of someone else.  

Eventually, we found refreshment and made our way back to the hotel.  Where we both took naps—and Gary is waking up now.

This is how it begins ...

The Hall of Overwhelmedness.  There's so much to see!
So much to do!  How can we possibly manage?
No matter ... take a picture of the baby.

Bit of Egyptian funerary carving ...
a smiling cat sneaking up on some birdies

And now, Italy

Another year, another journey.

Gary and I are setting off for Italy today.  The first few days will be in Rome, where I'll be attending a business meeting.  After that, we'll be departing for Manarola, one of the five towns comprising the "cinque terre" on the rugged coast of Liguria.  According to Wikipedia, the chief industries of Manarola are fishing and wine-making.  I think I'm going to be all set . . .

Many thanks to Cynthia and to Gary, who have done EVERYTHING to arrange for the logistics and details of this trip.  Myself, I'm just along for the ride . . .