Kate: We spent two great days in Rome with David and Iris guiding us to the signts and sites. David made sure we saw all of the piazzas with their splendid baroque fountains and provided Kevin and Nell with a more contemporary museum experience--a show about Grace Kelly which they all enjoyed. Iris continued our art history and religious educations by guiding us into every church we saw--and, in Rome, this is about every other building. The magnificence of these buildings is impossible to describe: we would walk into a church and there, with no fanfare at all, would be a Michelangelo or a Bernini or some other amazing sculpture or painting. Since we were touring Rome on a Sunday, we often viewed the churches with choirs in the background or bells chiming. Kevin and I actually tried to sit through a mass at St. Peter's but the sermon did us in. Nell caught both of us dozing despite the intense gesturing and loud Italian pontificating of the presiding priest. Street music in Italy is classical--an opera singer at a corner in Florence and violinists in Rome. Amazing.
Our one contribution to the Rome experience was the reservation at the Hotel Donatello, a nicely appointed but well off the beaten track hotel with Norman Bates covering the desk during the day and Count Dracula at night (really, you had to see this guy-we all slept with crucifixes under our pillows). Sorry, Iris and David!
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
Rome-ing
Kevin--Have spent the last few days wearing our feet to bloody stumps on the seven hills of what I have come to think of as "Roam." I think of it as a city composed of equal parts historical debris, high end shopping, churches (hundreds of churches), unbelievably cheap and delicious restaurants--and all of these elements are covered with a thick layer of graffiti, the 20th century's gift to the grandeur that we call the eternal city.
Of course, visiting all those churches doesn't just broaden one's cultural background--it outs money in the bank of God. The dividends in our case were respite from the rain that often threatened our sightseeing plans but then miraculously would stop. Thanks baby Jesus!
Coming soon...the Vatican as seen through the eyes of two lapsed catholics and two heathens. Maybe some food descriptions too!
Of course, visiting all those churches doesn't just broaden one's cultural background--it outs money in the bank of God. The dividends in our case were respite from the rain that often threatened our sightseeing plans but then miraculously would stop. Thanks baby Jesus!
Coming soon...the Vatican as seen through the eyes of two lapsed catholics and two heathens. Maybe some food descriptions too!
More from Florence
All right..I confess we've neglected this enterprise. Part of the problem is the lack of free W-Fi here. Europeans are cheap with their access. The other reason is that we have been too tired at night to think of writing. Here is a post from several days ago:
JANUARY 9th:
Nell: Florence. We have picked up four new, very prominent members in our caravan: Iris, David, and the Madonna and child. In addition, every time I close my eyes, I see a marble penis or a deranged baby Jesus (seems that artists could only agree on one thing: he wasn’t cute). I’m a bit tired as we board the train to Rome due to the fact that Fin and I spent a majority of the night dealing with/worrying about our toilet that had sprung a leak (charming). Aside from that, I have also begun making plans to sell all my personal effects and move to Italy for good (now accepting donations). Florence was breath taking from both the top of the Duomo (another new good friend) and even more so from the hills on the outskirts of town. They know how to live over here. I’ll take my coffee with a corrector, my milk whole, a work day that ends at 2, wine with my lunch, and all of my food grown locally and presented fresh at the open market any day. Touché Italy, touché.
Kate: Iris and David (and Bernard for an evening) are fabulous hosts. Iris has made sure that we’ve seen more of Florence in two days than most people can in a week: museums, churches, beautiful scenery. She’s also made sure we’ve eaten a great variety of the local food: chestnuts, artichokes, amazing cheeses and, my favorite, gelatos. Florence is a beautiful place—that immerses the visitor into a level of Catholicism I haven’t experienced since Sister Dora’s class in sixth grade. I had forgotten how much we loved the torture of saints and the keeping of relics. We saw many pictures and statues of John the Baptist’s beheading but I’m happy to report his finger and tooth remain, both encased in more gold and jewels than you can imagine. Off to Rome with Iris beside us enriching our experience in every way—and making sure we waste not a minute!
Friday, January 8, 2010
Firenze
Kevin here:
It's actually our last day in Florence but we have been too busy pounding our feet into bloody stumps to write anything. Iris Gowen and David Parker met us at the train station and we blissfully allowed them to do all our planning for us. It was sort of like the "assisted-living" version of touring. Iris is now known as "Iris--She -Wolf of the SS" for the way she has whipped our rather lax methods of sightseeing into something resembling the Nazi march into Paris. Not only has she made sure we leave the city with no Madonna and Child left unviewed, she cooks Italian food like that Lydia woman on PBS. It is impossible to imagine how we can pay back her largess--and they are coming to Rome with us next. Are they mad?
Finnigan has promised to begin his participation in this blog with a description of out climb (463 steps) to the top of the Duomo. Kate and are are too busy trying to catch our breathe and Nell is too busy checking out yet another jewelry store to offer her insights. More later including--I hope--my descriptionof out hotel here--the Pedro Almodovar Arms
It's actually our last day in Florence but we have been too busy pounding our feet into bloody stumps to write anything. Iris Gowen and David Parker met us at the train station and we blissfully allowed them to do all our planning for us. It was sort of like the "assisted-living" version of touring. Iris is now known as "Iris--She -Wolf of the SS" for the way she has whipped our rather lax methods of sightseeing into something resembling the Nazi march into Paris. Not only has she made sure we leave the city with no Madonna and Child left unviewed, she cooks Italian food like that Lydia woman on PBS. It is impossible to imagine how we can pay back her largess--and they are coming to Rome with us next. Are they mad?
Finnigan has promised to begin his participation in this blog with a description of out climb (463 steps) to the top of the Duomo. Kate and are are too busy trying to catch our breathe and Nell is too busy checking out yet another jewelry store to offer her insights. More later including--I hope--my descriptionof out hotel here--the Pedro Almodovar Arms
Well, giving up regular Posts but....
Kate: I haven’t read what Kevin has written since we left Maine. Let me make sure to clarify a few things: first, despite any complaints he may have made about the flight (and there were many to make), he ate not one but two of the chicken entrees—we were amazed.
We love Italy so far. Venice is a walker’s dream and we explored much of the city—most of it unintentionally. Spent our first morning there celebrating La Befano Day which includes a regatta where all the competitors are dressed as old women and they race to the voices of a choir singing Venetian songs. Luckily, you get to enjoy all of this while drinking mulled wine and hot chocolate. We then went to St. Mark’s Basiico and wandered into a high mass with more priests than I’ve ever seen in one place…both transporting and terrifying. Kevin and I believe there is only one manufacturer of church incense since it smelled exactly like our own memories. By chance we wandered into the Vivaldi museum which Fin loved because they had mandolins and lutes from 700-800b.c. on display.
I suspect others in the family will talk about my problems with the bathrooms (I’ve had some trouble distinguishing between the men’s and women’s-with some embarrassment) and my attempts to mingle with the locals ( I thought quite well; Nell and Fin think otherwise
Kevin: Part of exploring Venice today involved refinding “La Zucca” Venice’s own gourmet health food restaurant. We had made reservations to celebrate Kate’s birthday but and had the address. However, addresses , like maps, are meaningless here. Arrived a bit late with the help of a couple who assured us that the restaurant was indeed “straight ahead.” We forced ourselves to eat like Europeans and the meal lasted two hours from Proseco to cappuccino. Not by design, we took an innovative and ,well, leisurely new route home to the hotel.
Nell: Let me first say that it will probably take the Venetians that came in contact with our family a lot longer to forget than most. Yes, as Mom mentioned, she’s taken to peeing in urinals, and using hand gestures with shop keepers ten minutes deep into conversations where they have proved themselves quite fluent in English (how would you gesture “glass blowing”?). Dad, in a fit of photo madness, stepped directly in the middle of wallets for sale that were spread out on the ground in San Marco square. The men to whom those wallets belong were still laughing about it when we walked by again half an hour later (so was I).
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Second half of first day.
Kevin again: After that first sight of Venice, everything took a turn for the better. The transport from the airport to Venice through a choppy sea and in the rain was oddly a goodd beginning. Dampness is a way of life here and mold is everywhere. Oddly homely for us, like visiting the archeological forebears of our shower,
Walking through the Piazzala Roma and actually finding the Hotel Arlecchino even more amazing. The hotel is thoroughly Venetian, on a nice canal just off the Grand one. While decidely small, it's all stucco and marble and swaggy window treatments. The kids are directly above us on the fourth floor. Fin loves the bidet and we've all decided not to tell him it's not a urinal and what its actual used for.
We wasted no time..dropped our bags and headed out. Francesco, our host gave us some advice--"Don't use a map." Right from the start this turned out to the best way to approach navigating the tangled and confused amalgamation of streets (calle) , canals, fondements, alleys and whatnot that make up the city. He also said "You're never really lost." HA.
Spent the first day and night wandering aimlessly in the light rain and fog. Nellie commented that the city is like a real life Hogwart's, "the staircases keep moving." A corner can have two signs on it for the same place with arrows going in opposite directions. Anytime you ask a local directions, he or she says "It's straight ahead." Once you let go of the need to really know where you're headed, the whole idea of the place becomes clear....it's the ultimate exercise in "Be Here Now.: Best to bumble along and easy to keep going since every corner reveals a more wonderful scene, and more interesting character, and more beautiful old ruin that someone still lives in. Walking around here in the rain and fog made me want to smoke a cigarette for the first time in years. Frankly, it's impossible to describe the the beauty and special atmosphere of this place and pictures--even Google Earth cannot do justice.
I'll get the kids to there descriptions of day two tomorrow. Too tired to go into it now--can one use a bidet to soak tired dogs?
Walking through the Piazzala Roma and actually finding the Hotel Arlecchino even more amazing. The hotel is thoroughly Venetian, on a nice canal just off the Grand one. While decidely small, it's all stucco and marble and swaggy window treatments. The kids are directly above us on the fourth floor. Fin loves the bidet and we've all decided not to tell him it's not a urinal and what its actual used for.
We wasted no time..dropped our bags and headed out. Francesco, our host gave us some advice--"Don't use a map." Right from the start this turned out to the best way to approach navigating the tangled and confused amalgamation of streets (calle) , canals, fondements, alleys and whatnot that make up the city. He also said "You're never really lost." HA.
Spent the first day and night wandering aimlessly in the light rain and fog. Nellie commented that the city is like a real life Hogwart's, "the staircases keep moving." A corner can have two signs on it for the same place with arrows going in opposite directions. Anytime you ask a local directions, he or she says "It's straight ahead." Once you let go of the need to really know where you're headed, the whole idea of the place becomes clear....it's the ultimate exercise in "Be Here Now.: Best to bumble along and easy to keep going since every corner reveals a more wonderful scene, and more interesting character, and more beautiful old ruin that someone still lives in. Walking around here in the rain and fog made me want to smoke a cigarette for the first time in years. Frankly, it's impossible to describe the the beauty and special atmosphere of this place and pictures--even Google Earth cannot do justice.
I'll get the kids to there descriptions of day two tomorrow. Too tired to go into it now--can one use a bidet to soak tired dogs?
Half of the first day
Kevin here. This is a late blog because I had trouble getting online at the hotel last night. I’ll get to day two later.
January 5 10 am
Our friend and tour guru Iris Gowen says that she likes to take a national airline on her first trip to a country—it often provides important clues to the national character. If Alitalia is any indication, Italians are incredibly disorganized, impervious to physical discomfort, and maddeningly imprecise. The flight took off late, we were packed like eggs in crates, and it was soon made clear that the 45 minute delay in departure would somehow translate into an hour and a half tardiness on this end-- and that they knew this all along.
It was interesting to watch British Airways board a crowd at the gate next to ours—they went in an orderly fashion by seat numbers. The announcer delivered her instructions in the dulcet tones of Margaret Thatcher. Our group simulated the mad circuit of the wildebeest as they circle the dusty veldt. Our announcer was reduced to whining about the lack of adherence to his requests for order.
The deplaning was equally inane. The attendants did manage to keep folks in their seats until a full stop at what I wrongly assumed was the gate. Then, in unison they all jumped up and started climbing over each other to get to the luggage compartments and all their over-sized, over weight bags. Then they reenacted the Great Rhode Island Nightclub Fire to get to the doors. However, we weren’t at the gate—we were in the middle of miles of runways and all the people who had walked over our backs to get out early were waiting for us in two buses for our standing room only trip to the gate.
We are currently watching television in the Rome Airport , whiling away a couple of hours before our flight to Venice. The weather looks great---in Sicily. The rest of the cartoon country on the tv screen is being bombarded with big, sad tears. The airport is a mammoth, poorly laid out, and chock a block full of high end—Gucci, Dolce and Gabbana, Chanel—retail shops in the care of heavily mascared blondes in stilettos. Like the plane, the airport is also somewhat dirty despite all the glitz.
These people, at first glance, value looks over hygiene. It’s an endearing trait really.
I should also mention that the Alitalia staff is not at all sullen and unfriendly as the picture painted by reviewers online. What they don’t have is that horrible forced cheerfulness of American attendants. (“BuB Buy”) The one weird thing they did on the flight was to tent off a section of seats for themselves. It was attached to the overhead compartments with Velcro and had zippered tent-like doors. They would unzip and slip inside for breaks or something-- (“Amore?”) (Nosepicking?)
Jan 5 later:
Arrived a little late but nothing mattered once we caught sight of Venice from the air. Now know how Dorothy felt when she saw the Emerald City for the first time. Will describe rest of this day—it ended late—later.
January 5 10 am
Our friend and tour guru Iris Gowen says that she likes to take a national airline on her first trip to a country—it often provides important clues to the national character. If Alitalia is any indication, Italians are incredibly disorganized, impervious to physical discomfort, and maddeningly imprecise. The flight took off late, we were packed like eggs in crates, and it was soon made clear that the 45 minute delay in departure would somehow translate into an hour and a half tardiness on this end-- and that they knew this all along.
It was interesting to watch British Airways board a crowd at the gate next to ours—they went in an orderly fashion by seat numbers. The announcer delivered her instructions in the dulcet tones of Margaret Thatcher. Our group simulated the mad circuit of the wildebeest as they circle the dusty veldt. Our announcer was reduced to whining about the lack of adherence to his requests for order.
The deplaning was equally inane. The attendants did manage to keep folks in their seats until a full stop at what I wrongly assumed was the gate. Then, in unison they all jumped up and started climbing over each other to get to the luggage compartments and all their over-sized, over weight bags. Then they reenacted the Great Rhode Island Nightclub Fire to get to the doors. However, we weren’t at the gate—we were in the middle of miles of runways and all the people who had walked over our backs to get out early were waiting for us in two buses for our standing room only trip to the gate.
We are currently watching television in the Rome Airport , whiling away a couple of hours before our flight to Venice. The weather looks great---in Sicily. The rest of the cartoon country on the tv screen is being bombarded with big, sad tears. The airport is a mammoth, poorly laid out, and chock a block full of high end—Gucci, Dolce and Gabbana, Chanel—retail shops in the care of heavily mascared blondes in stilettos. Like the plane, the airport is also somewhat dirty despite all the glitz.
These people, at first glance, value looks over hygiene. It’s an endearing trait really.
I should also mention that the Alitalia staff is not at all sullen and unfriendly as the picture painted by reviewers online. What they don’t have is that horrible forced cheerfulness of American attendants. (“BuB Buy”) The one weird thing they did on the flight was to tent off a section of seats for themselves. It was attached to the overhead compartments with Velcro and had zippered tent-like doors. They would unzip and slip inside for breaks or something-- (“Amore?”) (Nosepicking?)
Jan 5 later:
Arrived a little late but nothing mattered once we caught sight of Venice from the air. Now know how Dorothy felt when she saw the Emerald City for the first time. Will describe rest of this day—it ended late—later.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Ehem.
Nell: T minus 7 hours. Fin just called, he tried to fake sick. Real original.
Beyond delayed flights and floods, I've begun to think about more important things like how many of us will end up sharing a single toothbrush, if I am too old to publicly argue with my older brother about who gets the window seat on the plane, when it is socially acceptable for me to utilize the reduced drinking age and finally, what the first swear words to leave my father's lips will be upon departure.
Ah, the life of jet-setters. Italy, hope you're ready.
Beyond delayed flights and floods, I've begun to think about more important things like how many of us will end up sharing a single toothbrush, if I am too old to publicly argue with my older brother about who gets the window seat on the plane, when it is socially acceptable for me to utilize the reduced drinking age and finally, what the first swear words to leave my father's lips will be upon departure.
Ah, the life of jet-setters. Italy, hope you're ready.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Almost Time To Go
Kate: The obsessive planning continues. I'm now checking the tide charts for Venice-and have re-thought my shoe choice again. Kevin will not tell me if he thinks I'm making the right decision. Meanwhile, Kevin has taken to checking whether the daily Alatalia flight from Boston to Rome has taken off--bad news today. Since we now assume we'll spend most of the trip on the Logan runway, we've all packed a few more books. I'm trying to read mysteries set in Italy in case this is as close as we get.
Fortunately, Phil and Marj gave us "Colloquial Italian With Phonetic Pronunciation" (copyright 1907) to help us prepare for the trip. I have been practicing phrases that seem important to know: "Can you please give me a piece of soap? (Favoritemi del sapone) "Waiter, bring the bill, please...This is not right. This is too much. (Cameriere, portatemi il conto..Non sta bene. E troppo.) and, of course, given the extended weather forecast: "I have lost my umbrella." (Io ho perduto l'ombrello.
Fortunately, Phil and Marj gave us "Colloquial Italian With Phonetic Pronunciation" (copyright 1907) to help us prepare for the trip. I have been practicing phrases that seem important to know: "Can you please give me a piece of soap? (Favoritemi del sapone) "Waiter, bring the bill, please...This is not right. This is too much. (Cameriere, portatemi il conto..Non sta bene. E troppo.) and, of course, given the extended weather forecast: "I have lost my umbrella." (Io ho perduto l'ombrello.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Getting Nervous
Kevin: With a whole weekend to get ready, I've spent most of my time in constant worry about possible catastrophes: canceled flights, missed flights, snowed-in flights, Muslim terrorists with explosives in their underpants, obese seatmates, in flight Sandra Bullock movies, the long foretold final sinking of Venice. I'm exhausted already!
In my paring down of my luggage to avoid baggage checking and (we hear) inevitable loss) , I notice that everything thing I'm bringing is either black or gray. I should fit right in at the Vatican.
In my paring down of my luggage to avoid baggage checking and (we hear) inevitable loss) , I notice that everything thing I'm bringing is either black or gray. I should fit right in at the Vatican.
Getting Ready
Kate: I suspect we've had too much time to plan this trip. It's allowed us to research what we're doing--and all signs indicate this will be a classic Hanson-Finnigan Family outing. Here's what we know so far: our airline has been rated the "worst" travel experience ever by all but three of its recent reviewers (and they appear to be drunk), Venice (our first stop) is under water, and snow is forecast. Nell, Kevin and I have spent our own blizzardy day here in Maine packing our things into ever smaller bags in hopes of avoiding any baggage check-ins. Nell is obsessing about what coat to bring and I am still not sure about which shoes would be best--Kevin refuses to speak to either of us about this any more. I have no idea what Fin is planning since I think he's avoiding my increasingly hysterical calls.
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