Day One - The Invasion

Day One. The Invasion.

(Aside: Internet access is as expected difficult and slow here. So I'll post a bit from time to time if I can but I won't really catch up and am not expecting to upload photos until I am back home. Meanwhile….)

Leading a group is never an easy undertaking. But getting checked in for a charter flight to Havana is another thing entirely. Mi amigo, Fabrizio, did not want to deal with everyone individually. So I found myself on the floor in the terminal at 5AM gathering together the required documents from each bleary-eyed delegate:  Passport, check. Visa, check. Travel affidavit, check. Airline ticket. Check.

Then a coffee break at the conveniently located Dunkin Donuts waiting for Fabrizio to call me back over to give me the return airline vouchers and another document requiring each delegate's signature. So commences the handing out of said documents to each delegate. Check. Then the gathering up again of the signed documents. Check.

Then each individual still had to check in at the counter to get their boarding pass and to check their bags so I helped the woman at the counter locate each person and get them through that process so they could go stand in line to wait again to be called in order to pay the $20 (take your bag to the airplane special fee) plus any charge for extra weight. (A total allowed weight of 44 lbs turns out to not be all that much.)

All in all checking in for the flight required 2 hours so that the 5A start for a 9A flight no longer seemed quite so insane. Plus, as an added benefit, if you need to attach faces to names of 20 new friends as quickly as possible, all of that handing out and collecting of documents turns out to be an extremely effective tool!

In the end, we all made it onto the plane for the short flight to Havana. I chatted in what I believe to have been reasonable Spanish to the wee, little old woman sitting next to me on the plane. (Do you live in Havana? My husband's mother was Cuban. He was in Havana when he was a tiny little boy but doesn't remember very much. And even, that it is interesting that in Miami everyone speaks Spanish and English but on the plane to Havana the woman (I don't know the word for flight attendant) only spoke in English.)

Anyway, they let us into Cuba. There's even a stamp (yet to be located) in the modern art project that is the mass of stamps in my added and added and added passport pages.

Of course, the first thing everyone sees when stepping outside for the first time in Cuba, which I think is because everyone is waiting to see them, are the classic, old cars that abound on this island. Granted they often sit next to a brand new Audi, but there is indeed an abundance of them everywhere you look. Some in seemingly pristine condition (at least on the outside) and some of them not so much. But clearly each and every one of them is treasured by its owner.

From the airport to lunch we mostly drove the streets of different neighborhoods in Havana. Looking at the gardens on our right or the hospital on our left. But barely 15 minutes into the drive, just as we entered an intersection PELIGROSO (a big roundabout), the bus died. Yup, really. I kid you not. The great thing about it was that it was so perfectly fitting. Here we are in a world where all those old vehicles are maintained with spit and duct tape, and our bus died. So our driver took off his shirt, neatly folded it and set it aside, pulled out a good-sized piece of cardboard that was conveniently stored on the bus, and set about fixing the bus. He located the problem as a break in the accelerator cable, spliced it together with lord knows what, tucked the cardboard away, donned his clean shirt again, and we were off in less time than it would take AAA to respond to your cell phone call in the States. It couldn't have been a more apropos start to the experience if it had been carefully orchestrated.

Ta Da! Twilight on the Duomo

Arrivederci!
Ciao!

Last day

Yesterday was our last full day here. Today we travel by train to Bologna. Spend the night at the lovely airport Sheraton and then catch an early flight out on Wednesday morning.

Yesterday we continued on the trail of Dan Brown's novel and visited the Palazzo Vecchio. Never been there before. No doubt having the story of the book to pique our interest helped to make the visit more interesting, but it is an amazing place....previously a Medici palace so quite a showplace. The hall of the 500 featured in the book is enormous and the mask of Dante is pretty eerie (even if the placard allows that it is probably NOT an actual death mask cast after he died).

The other thing that made it fun was an extremely enthusiastic ticket taker who was clearly enthralled with the art and happy to be working there who gave us little insights and sent us off running to the map room because (whisper, whisper, whisper, shoo, shoo) some Italian celebrity was going to be filming something in the room adjacent to it so the map room would be inaccessible in short order. Her enthusiasm was truly contagious.

Then we actually did some buying (having only done shopping until that point). A lovely new purse (for me), some boots (for me again) and some belts (for both of us). And lots and lots more strolling around.

Then at twilight, we took a bottle of prosecco down to the piazza to catch the perfect light on the Duomo (photo to follow) and to toast a wonderful trip. The crowds of Friday and Saturday night have dissipated so it wasn't nearly as busy so it was nice to just sit and to sip and to shoot photos.

Then on our way to dinner, a couple commented to us as we passed by that the gelato shops are worth photographing as well (Michael has) and we got to talking. So in our requisite installment of 'it's a small world after all'....they live in Concord less than 2 miles from where we used to live, and they used to take their pets to Encina Veterinary Clinic (though they didn't see Michael). Just crazy.

Dinner was at a place recommended by the guy at the hotel desk last night. Acqua al Due. They apparently have franchises in Washington DC and San Diego so not exactly a just mom and pop local place but a very unique place with tasting dishes with five pastas and three desserts and excellent steaks in blueberry sauce or balsamic sauce. Crazy busy place with plates signed by celebrities (I only recognized John Cusack) all over the walls so a totally different dining experience than we've had so far and thus a fitting end to the trip.
 

Sunday is for Church

Sunday morning we woke early (I was feeling better thanks to some substantial medications) and headed to the Galleria dell'Accademia to visit David. Well, The David by Michelangelo. I've seen it now three times. This was four for Michael. David never lets you down. The sculpture is as breath-taking now as it was the first time. We left early, stopped for cappuccino on the way and then waited an hour for the doors to open. We sat for about 40 minutes sometimes marveling at the David and sometimes marveling at the people who often hardly give it a glance before just chatting on with their friends and strolling straight on through. First, why would you bother paying 11euros for a ticket to see pretty much just the David and then not look at the David? And secondly, in the presence of such beauty, how can your eyes at least not be drawn to it while you are chatting with your friends? Yet another unsolvable mystery.

The Accademia was followed by breakfast back at our perfectly situated hotel and then more strolling. We headed all the way over to the church at Santa Croce only to find it functioning as an actual church at 11A on a Sunday morning and thus closed to tourists. Who'd have thunk it?

So more strolling. More eating. More strolling and back there in the afternoon to visit the tombs and memorials of Michelangelo and Dante, Marconi and Galileo and friends.

Then more strolling and more eating and more strolling. And then, determined tourists that we are, we forced ourselves back outside after it really got dark (which isn't until nearly 10P in this part of the world so that's a hard transition for us equatorial types) to get some photos of the Duomo at night.

 

Alive and in Florence

Yes, we are still alive. We were walking around Florence last night when a single young woman passed us on the street talking on her cellphone. She told whoever was on the other end of the connection that she just thought she should let someone know where she was. I thought I ought to do the same.

I know I haven't posted since we left Todi. Apologies. The day we spent driving from Todi to Florence via Montalcino and Monteriggioni was very nice. We'd been to both places before so it was just a question of stopping by on our way. Nothing too exciting. Returning the car to Hertz was no big deal. Remember we were still waiting to make sure that someone here would credit us back for the ridiculously expensive taxi fare from Terni to Orvieto and they did with no problems.

Our hotel is steps from the Duomo, we can hear the bells toll in the campanile, and if I lean out the window I can even see the top of the campanile. Yet when we close the windows it is quiet as can be in here. So that first night we just settled in and strolled around.

Saturday morning we took advantage of the only day predicted to be rain free and set out to the Boboli Gardens. We both read Dan Brown's new mystery, Inferno, while in Todi and much of it is set in Florence including a daring escape through Boboli Gardens. So we retraced what we could remember of the sequence of events. It's a strenuous stroll up and down and up and down and I was catching some horrible achy flu so once we were done we came back to rest and then just did some shopping and gelato eating and basic bumming around.

But speaking of mysteries and symbolism, how about this little sign? 

It appears in showers here next to that wee, flimsy, slippery looking cord mounted six feet up in the air. So, what nature of shower-related emergency might you have that would be serious enough for you to seek the assistance of strangers (in your presumed nakedness) but that would also still leave you standing up and capable of grasping that little cord in order to summon them?

Sadly, I might have asked Dan Brown himself. Apparently he was here in Florence last Wednesday to promote his book, but I missed him by just that much.

New Friends

Well, today we leave Todi. We head out this morning. The last couple of days the fog has rolled in early in the morning and settled in the valley so as I sit here writing on the balcony below me it looks like an ocean dotted with little green islands as the tips of the hills reach up through the mist. The swallows are out flying slaloms in the blue sky above. It's just beautiful.

Yesterday was just like this. So we stayed close to home. Lorenza was not in the coffee shop so we went to sit out in the piazza instead and had our cappuccino and people watched. Then we strolled around some. Stuck our heads into some stores and ultimately wound our way around to our garden terrace at the Pizzeria Cavour restaurant for lunch. Elisa, the very cheery, extremely trim, young waitress who waited on us on our very first night was there. She always seemed happy to see us after that so we were glad that she was there. Still trying to work on my Italian I told her that it was our last day in Todi (appropriately polite sad boo-boo face given as response) but that we wanted to thank her very much for all of her help. I told her that everything at the restaurant was always perfect. Grazie mille. She asked where we were staying. I told her where and asked if she knew the owner of the apartment. She said she did. She asked where we were going went we left Todi. I told her Florence for four days and then back to our home. She asked where. I told her that we were Americans but that we live on an island in the ocean in the Caribbean. I know it doesn't sound like much, but the entire conversation WAS in Italian. So I was feeling pretty good about myself.

Anyway, a couple of beers, a maxi salad for Michael and a tuna and cannellini bean salad for me and a lovely time sitting out on the terrace. When we were leaving we passed her on the stairs and thanked her again. I went to shake her hand. She did the kiss-kiss cheek thing and turned to Michael for the same. Then she looked at me and said something to the effect of, "Lei ha facce bocca?" I looked confused. So she said it again. So my minds trying to translate the Italian....but bocca is Spanish? ok go back to facce....fare is to do? Is she asking, as my French friends do, if I 'make a face' at her? (which would be a bad thing.) Meanwhile, I hear Michael saying, "Yes, yes, of course." So I'm really confused. What they heck? How can he understand her?

Well of course he could because Michael prides himself on the fact that he doesn't speak foreign languages. He just speaks English with the appropriate foreign accent. And sure enough (god damn him) that means he DID understand her because she was asking if I have face-a-bocca.....i.e. face-a-booka....i.e. FACEBOOK. Damn it. So now I am facebook friends with Elisa seen below with us outside the restaurant. Ciao for now.

 

The Duomo

Could post 20. Will post 2. The second one is for you, Amber. I believe that is the sky you and your father enjoyed every damn day you were here. I hope you appreciated it. Coz it only took me three weeks to find it.