caro ricordo: la felicità è un palazzo con un bicchiere di vino
On a gondola in Venice ... "You will notice the French Gothic ..." Pronounced with precise (think pre.cise) annunciation. FrE.NCH. GAH.THICK. As if the dumb Americans had perhaps never heard of such a thing? He said it over and over again. "Please note the FrENCH GAHTHICK architecture."
Passing Marco Polo's house ... "Please look to your left. No, no. Look to your left. Look where I'm pointing. LOOK HERE." We couldn't help but laugh. Okay Sir. We will look. Ah yes, Marco Polo. You are so wise. Yes, yes, French Gothic. Who had seen such things!
We seriously began to think all Europeans thought all Americans are from Omaha.
No offense Omaha-ians.
There were throngs of people lined up outside Gucci. Tiffany's. The one that starts with an F that escape me. We stared in amazement.
We walked in endless circles on the north side of the canal. Following mysterious signs that said Rialto with an arrow. We must have gone by this same faucet three times before we finally broke down and used the map on Lew's phone. We weren't our best selves. Tired.
The BNB owner in Manarola. Comprende? Comprende? Capire? Capire? In response. Si, si, si.
He messed with the door leading into the courtyard for a solid 5 minutes. I couldn't quite understand. Was he trying to lock it? Unlock? Demonstrate that anyone over 50lbs could easily kick that lock open? Capire? Si, si.
At a restaurant off the main drag in Verazza. Il Pirata delle Cinque Terre. A few hours. Salad. Risotto. Amazing gnocchi. Pesto. Desert with gelato and fruit. Two of the half bottles of local pinot grigio. The owner told us jokes. None of which I remember. The food was amazing.
We walked up the hill to start the 3mi hike back. Stopped at the bar at the top of the hill and had the squeezed lemon juice. Which they call lemonade.
On the hike back there was a couple kind of keeping pace with us. We didn't talk to them. Lew and I don't really make friends while traveling. Not our thing. I know lots of people enjoy that. Not us. Anyway. The couple. About a third of the way up the woman got sulky. Mad. She walked about thirty paces behind the man just MAD. Lew joked ... if he was going to propose at the top of the cliff, if I were him I'd rethink it. They weren't speaking at the top. They stopped at the next cliff top bar - where we stopped too - where the best man from our wedding called and told us they were having a baby. Kind of amazing that.
By the end they were holding hands though. Still not speaking. But at least she was walking with him.
In Pisa so many people buying watches off the street guys (what do you call those?). Men with thick accents would shout at us ... "you buy?" No grazie. At one point the one selling the "art" stopped Lewis and said, "you look, yes? Grazie!" And Lew said ... "Gratis? Buona Grazie!" And the guy laughed.
The people buying watches. I shook my head. I took to calling all those Americans stopping at those guys with a briefcase full of trash "folks from Omaha."
Again. Sorry Omaha-ians.
In Florence we had dinner at Acqua al due. I had the blueberry steak. It was amazing. I don't know if we had desert? I think we did. Then we went back to the hotel and sat at the roof top restaurant. Lewis got champagne from 2006. Pretty good year.
We decided - after looking at lots of Italian buildings and shrines and art in museums and churches - that Italians love Mary. And you know we all know that. But it was really like ... everywhere. We were careful to hide our protestant tendencies. We even lit candles in churches and prayed for our friends having babies. And friends who've lost babies.
We did endless amounts of walking and bickered over the right way to go and if we should take a cab (his idea) or just walk (mine). We argued over weather or not any of these street artists have actually ever painted anything ever (me - no him - yes).
He made me climb two towers. With lots of steps. And it's not like in the US where it's all orderly and nice. Oh no. It's a teeny tiny passageway that was built in like 800AD and it's amazing and all but ... smelly.
And I have decided that people braved ocean liners for months to get to the new world for the promise of new plumbing.
Oh that's a good story. In Manarola after one of the hikes we go back and get cleaned up. I get second shower. Apparently there is only enough hot water for one. Ice cold water. Ice cold. So cold. And a head full of soap. Aint it always the way. I got first showers after that.
OH! This was the story that I forgot!
In Florence, at Palazzo al Vecchio. We are walking by Circus and thinking about lunch. And in Italy the waiters like ... court you to come in. So every time you pass one by they say "Hungry? Best fish! Best ravioli! Best Pizza! Light lunch? We have. Come in!" And they seat you in their section and sell you food.
So passing Circus the one waitress stops us. I can not remember exactly what she says but it ended with ... "It'll be a good day if I can meet up with my drug dealer!" And we were like ... uh ... okay then. But intrigued. So we sat. And she was funny. Something about bad healthcare and drugs and oh yes she went to Cinque Terre and the beach and got high and got so sunburned. She was crazy.
But I had two glasses of wine and caprese salad and amazing panini and did not care. We sat there a long time too.
Happiness is cheese, wine and a palazzo. I've decided.
I probably could have seen more things or appreciated the art. And I did. But by lunch at the palazzo I was art-ed and churched out. We did keep looking at art and churches after that. Because hello. Florence. But the best thing was sitting and watching people and chatting and drinking adult beverages and being in a foreign country with my spouse. Whom I actually do like. Still. Remarkably. He is very funny.
Our first visit to the rooftop restaurant in Florence he says ... I think your eyes are as blue as the Italian ski. Or something equally as bizarre. I laughed outright. Are you flirting with your wife, sir? That's simply not done. There was a man with about six cameras, one in his hand and the rest around his neck. Big DSLR's. I imagine some had film. Probably one color one black and white. Lew says ... now Stacy, if only you'd met him first.
He was a portly fellow, with long black hair. And those tiny kind of Bono sun glasses. Lewis took his picture. My soul mate. He was trying to capture the light. He took a lot of pictures. And grabbed one of the American teenagers on vacation with his family and handed him a camera than another one. "Just shoot." He told him. And the awkward kid did. The man with the bono glasses actually flipped his hair at one point.
People are amazing. I did a lot of people watching. That's what I do.
We ran and saw and did. But my favorite bits were sitting with coffee. Sitting with wine. Sitting and eating. The hike in Cinque Terre was cool. I'd rank that second.
But happiness is a Palazzo with a glass of wine.
Passing Marco Polo's house ... "Please look to your left. No, no. Look to your left. Look where I'm pointing. LOOK HERE." We couldn't help but laugh. Okay Sir. We will look. Ah yes, Marco Polo. You are so wise. Yes, yes, French Gothic. Who had seen such things!
We seriously began to think all Europeans thought all Americans are from Omaha.
No offense Omaha-ians.
There were throngs of people lined up outside Gucci. Tiffany's. The one that starts with an F that escape me. We stared in amazement.
We walked in endless circles on the north side of the canal. Following mysterious signs that said Rialto with an arrow. We must have gone by this same faucet three times before we finally broke down and used the map on Lew's phone. We weren't our best selves. Tired.
The BNB owner in Manarola. Comprende? Comprende? Capire? Capire? In response. Si, si, si.
He messed with the door leading into the courtyard for a solid 5 minutes. I couldn't quite understand. Was he trying to lock it? Unlock? Demonstrate that anyone over 50lbs could easily kick that lock open? Capire? Si, si.
At a restaurant off the main drag in Verazza. Il Pirata delle Cinque Terre. A few hours. Salad. Risotto. Amazing gnocchi. Pesto. Desert with gelato and fruit. Two of the half bottles of local pinot grigio. The owner told us jokes. None of which I remember. The food was amazing.
We walked up the hill to start the 3mi hike back. Stopped at the bar at the top of the hill and had the squeezed lemon juice. Which they call lemonade.
On the hike back there was a couple kind of keeping pace with us. We didn't talk to them. Lew and I don't really make friends while traveling. Not our thing. I know lots of people enjoy that. Not us. Anyway. The couple. About a third of the way up the woman got sulky. Mad. She walked about thirty paces behind the man just MAD. Lew joked ... if he was going to propose at the top of the cliff, if I were him I'd rethink it. They weren't speaking at the top. They stopped at the next cliff top bar - where we stopped too - where the best man from our wedding called and told us they were having a baby. Kind of amazing that.
By the end they were holding hands though. Still not speaking. But at least she was walking with him.
In Pisa so many people buying watches off the street guys (what do you call those?). Men with thick accents would shout at us ... "you buy?" No grazie. At one point the one selling the "art" stopped Lewis and said, "you look, yes? Grazie!" And Lew said ... "Gratis? Buona Grazie!" And the guy laughed.
The people buying watches. I shook my head. I took to calling all those Americans stopping at those guys with a briefcase full of trash "folks from Omaha."
Again. Sorry Omaha-ians.
In Florence we had dinner at Acqua al due. I had the blueberry steak. It was amazing. I don't know if we had desert? I think we did. Then we went back to the hotel and sat at the roof top restaurant. Lewis got champagne from 2006. Pretty good year.
We decided - after looking at lots of Italian buildings and shrines and art in museums and churches - that Italians love Mary. And you know we all know that. But it was really like ... everywhere. We were careful to hide our protestant tendencies. We even lit candles in churches and prayed for our friends having babies. And friends who've lost babies.
We did endless amounts of walking and bickered over the right way to go and if we should take a cab (his idea) or just walk (mine). We argued over weather or not any of these street artists have actually ever painted anything ever (me - no him - yes).
He made me climb two towers. With lots of steps. And it's not like in the US where it's all orderly and nice. Oh no. It's a teeny tiny passageway that was built in like 800AD and it's amazing and all but ... smelly.
And I have decided that people braved ocean liners for months to get to the new world for the promise of new plumbing.
Oh that's a good story. In Manarola after one of the hikes we go back and get cleaned up. I get second shower. Apparently there is only enough hot water for one. Ice cold water. Ice cold. So cold. And a head full of soap. Aint it always the way. I got first showers after that.
OH! This was the story that I forgot!
In Florence, at Palazzo al Vecchio. We are walking by Circus and thinking about lunch. And in Italy the waiters like ... court you to come in. So every time you pass one by they say "Hungry? Best fish! Best ravioli! Best Pizza! Light lunch? We have. Come in!" And they seat you in their section and sell you food.
So passing Circus the one waitress stops us. I can not remember exactly what she says but it ended with ... "It'll be a good day if I can meet up with my drug dealer!" And we were like ... uh ... okay then. But intrigued. So we sat. And she was funny. Something about bad healthcare and drugs and oh yes she went to Cinque Terre and the beach and got high and got so sunburned. She was crazy.
But I had two glasses of wine and caprese salad and amazing panini and did not care. We sat there a long time too.
Happiness is cheese, wine and a palazzo. I've decided.
I probably could have seen more things or appreciated the art. And I did. But by lunch at the palazzo I was art-ed and churched out. We did keep looking at art and churches after that. Because hello. Florence. But the best thing was sitting and watching people and chatting and drinking adult beverages and being in a foreign country with my spouse. Whom I actually do like. Still. Remarkably. He is very funny.
Our first visit to the rooftop restaurant in Florence he says ... I think your eyes are as blue as the Italian ski. Or something equally as bizarre. I laughed outright. Are you flirting with your wife, sir? That's simply not done. There was a man with about six cameras, one in his hand and the rest around his neck. Big DSLR's. I imagine some had film. Probably one color one black and white. Lew says ... now Stacy, if only you'd met him first.
He was a portly fellow, with long black hair. And those tiny kind of Bono sun glasses. Lewis took his picture. My soul mate. He was trying to capture the light. He took a lot of pictures. And grabbed one of the American teenagers on vacation with his family and handed him a camera than another one. "Just shoot." He told him. And the awkward kid did. The man with the bono glasses actually flipped his hair at one point.
People are amazing. I did a lot of people watching. That's what I do.
We ran and saw and did. But my favorite bits were sitting with coffee. Sitting with wine. Sitting and eating. The hike in Cinque Terre was cool. I'd rank that second.
But happiness is a Palazzo with a glass of wine.
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