Finalmente (Finally): Our stair-step journey

First, my apologies to the blogmaster (daughter Ainslie) and her followers for taking so long to post. Naturally I had intended to do it immediately after our return from Italy. It’s been a month. Yet I think about our travels every day and look at the photos we snapped with a yearning to go back.

As the blogmaster (Ainslie) wrote in her introduction, I traveled to Italy with KT – my best bud, my confidante, my traveling compatriot – for 10 days. You could call it our “stair step, or “Stair Master” journey, for Italy seemed to be a country of steps – narrow, tall concrete steps; rock steps up and down all the 443 bridges in Venice; steps into the terraced hills overlooking the Italian Riviera and the five-village cluster of Cinque Terre.

A sampling: we climbed the 414 steps of the Campanile, the bell tower that shadows and eyeballs the ancient Duomo, Brunelleschi’s iconic dome that commands the Florence skyline and that Michelangelo described as a cricket cage. We scooted up the 33 steps, then down the 33 steps on the other side of the famed Rialto Bridge in Venice, then the 63 steps up to Luca’s apartment, our quarters in that mudflat city of canals and alleys. And we trudged up and down at least 2,000 steps along our hike into the mountains from Corniglia to Manarola in Cinque Terre.

It’s a good thing. I ate way too much gelato and cannolis. And I can’t forget the pizza. Ah, the pizza. Best I’ve ever consumed. The worst in Italy was far, far better than what they serve up here.

We arrived in Italy, after flying over the Alps from Munich, about lunchtime Florence time and met Ainslie at the train station. First order of business: Find the apartment we had rented off airbnb.com (a great website for all you travelers) from Marta, a sweet Florentine who owns two apartments overlooking the open market in Florence. Marta was waiting for us when we arrived, lugging our baggage. We got our first taste of steps – 15 of them to our charming apartment. Marta stocked our apartment with a bottle of wine, pastries, milk, coffee and orange juice.

After getting Marta’s instructions and keys, we set out walking in this incredible city that is a shrine to the Renaissance movement, born here in the 14^th  century. I was enthralled with the art and age. Everywhere there were sculpture and frescos. Great palaces had been turned into museums.  It was like Michelangelo, Leonardo (and we’re not talking about Dicaprio here), Donatello, Dante and Bellini still walked the streets. I couldn’t stop looking up. The architecture, ornate yet tasteful, was magnifico.

 Our second order of business was lunch: pizza for everyone. Ainslie took us to the best pizza joint in Florence: Gusto. But its line was out the door. So we found another place nearby that didn’t have a line. I ordered a funghi pizza and proclaimed it favoloso. Ainslie assured me there was better pizza to be eaten in Florence.

Fortified, we struck out again, and wound our way around the Duomo to Ainslie’s apartment that she shares (past tense now) with five other UNC women. Their kitchen window framed the Duomo. It was that close. How cool. After a tour of the apartment, jet lag set in and we left Ainslie and found our way back to Marta’s apartment. We spent three nights in Florence and late afternoons walked to the other side of the Arno River to climb the 84 steps up a hill overlooking Boboli Gardens that offers a panoramic view of Florence to watch the sun dip from view. What an amazing way to end three amazing days.

While Ainslie finished up classes before her Easter break, Katy and I trained to Cinque Terre for a couple of days and to Corniglia, the middle village of five. Since Corniglia is the least accessible (from the train you have to take a shuttle or climb the 330 steps to reach it), the village is the least touristy and thusly the most intimate of the five.

It was raining when we arrived, so we took the shuttle up a windy (often perilously) road to Corniglia and followed directions that Lisabetta (she, too, was delightful, full of Italian charm and energy) had given us to the apartment we rented from her. From a balcony on the second floor, over the terra cotta shingled roof, we had a beautiful view of the Italian Riviera.

Since Corniglia is less touristy, there are fewer restaurants from which to choose, and it seems many of them don’t keep to a consistent schedule. We probably spent two hours walking the streets and alleys trying to decide among the eateries that were open on a Monday night, then seeing more steps to wander up and down exploring – and finally at about 9:30 p.m. we just decided on paninis and a bottle of Cinque Terre wine in a small beer joint. It couldn’t have been a nicer way to end that day.

The next day was a hiking day. Since much of the trail that linked the five villages was still closed because of the October floods (see Ainslie’s previous blog post on her visit to Cinque Terre) we hit the trail behind Corniglia’s dominant church and started the trek up. And up and up. After an hour, we were still going up, rock step after rock step. And the higher we went, the more magnifico the view. From here, you could see how the multi-colored villages clung to steep cliffs, all but Corniglia stuttering down to the water.

The hills/mountains that overlook Cinque Terre are terraced with grapevines and olive trees (wherever we ate, the proprietor brought us a bowl of Cinque Terre-grown olives while we waited for our meals). If we hadn’t climbed the trails, we’d not have understood the local farming, with the single-rail funicular lifts built up the mountains so farmers can get supplies to their vineyards.

Three hours later, we made it to the next village, Manarola. We did stop along the way to gawk at the views. We met Germans, Italians, Americans, French and two women from New Zealand. Manarola was totally different from Corniglia. Full of life and restaurants – and tourists. Near the water we sat and watched five Italian men dicker over the sale of a fishing boat – or at least that’s what we thought they were doing. It was hard to tell if the sale was going well for the owners – we left before the deal was sealed.

There I found this quote about Cinque Terre inscribed on a wall from the Italian writer Giacomo Bracelli: It really is a sight to behold mountains that are not merely steep, but are veritable crags over which birds can hardly fly. So stony as to fail to retain any moisture, but yet covered with vines so thirsty and delicate as to resemble ivy rather than vine. Here they make wine fit to adorn the tables of kings.

From Manarola, we walked to Riomaggiore, which only took 20 minutes along the Via dell’Amore. And from there we took the train to the village on the opposite end – Monterosso al Mare. Then it was back to Corniglia and a restaurant near our apartment known for its pesto lasagna. Of course, I ordered that. Unbelievably good. Cinque Terre is known as the birthplace of pesto.

The next day, we said goodbye to Cinque Terre, and trained back to Florence to pick up Ainslie and train to Venice. What a city! A city of decay and decadence. A city that exudes power and elegance.

 I’ve wanted to see Venice all my life -- just to witness how it could still stand after so many thousands of years. I read a story about the restoration of a theater in Venice and, since the theater was on an historical site, the architects had to bore through the foundation to find the foundation of Marco Polo’s childhood home underneath. And under Marco Polo’s home, they found another foundation and another under that foundation that dates back to the 8^th century.

 Which proves that the waters of Venice continue to rise and the city keeps raising itself to survive. Truth is: Venice is built on top of millions of wooden pilings sunk into the muck of a mudflat. Beautiful palaces, churches, cobbled alleys – built on top of muck. How does it stand and not fall from its own weght and the changing tides?

After the train from Florence, we took a vaporetto (water bus) to our apartment (also rented from airbnb.com) past St. Mark’s Square and near the city’s arsenale. Passing under the famous Rialto Bridge, I looked back to snap a photo, and there hanging from the bridge was a banner advertising my nephew (Ainslie’s cousin’s) BJ’s documentary (he is co-director and it had opened at the Venice Film Festival) about the late Vogue editor Diana Vreeland. Actually as we later discovered it wasn’t a banner advertising the movie, but an exhibit connected to the movie. Still, I shouted: “Ainslie, there’s BJ’s movie!” We got a wonderful rush and I thought: My, how small the world really is!

 We stayed at Luca’s apartment, a charming flat 63 steps up. Luca was off celebrating Easter, but his parents from Trieste (1 ½ hours away) were there to greet us. What lovely people. And talk about energy. They were the essence of Italian expressiveness.

After they left, we struck out into the city. Like Florence, art was everywhere. It is a city of riddles – of Verdi, Vivaldi; Hemingway, Ezra Pound and a cast of colorful American expatriates, including Peggy Guggenheim. Of masks. Of footsteps and the singsong of different languages and dialects that aren’t drowned out by cars or vegetation. Of narrow streets and alleys – and 443 bridges over canals – forming a great maze where getting lost is part of the experience and expands the mystery. Travel, of course, is by foot, or a variety of boats: including water taxis or buses, or the famous Venetian gondolas. It was quite a spectacle.

We ate. We walked. We climbed steps and descended. We traveled across the Grand Canal to a museum to see photographer Elliott Erwitt’s “personal best” exhibit. We traveled to Murano, known for its Venetian glass, and nearby Burano, known for its lace and colorful buildings.

We walked. We ate. We snapped photos, constantly enthralled by the beauty and mystery of this once great European power.  On Easter morning, Katy went to a service at a nearby church and suddenly all the bells clanged throughout the city. After her return, we set out for one last look at Venice. Rain threatened, but we kept trudging through the city – looking for the Fenice Opera House. Katy and I had been reading John Berendt’s book about Venice’s famous opera house, which in 1996 burned from a spectacular fire.

Like Berendt’s “Savannah book” this book was a travelogue devoted to Venice. We had to see the Fenice – restored, not to its original elegance. Yet still elegant and as close to the original as the Venetians could rebuild.

We took a self-guided tour with headsets, then it was back to Luca’s apartment to collect our things and train back to Florence for a day. The next day we left Florence – and Ainslie -- at the train station and flew home.

I couldn’t – and can’t  – wait for her return home. Christie is with her now, and after a week of travel, they fly back to Charlotte. I know this is long-winded (it wouldn’t surprise my editors at The Charlotte Observer) but I can’t close without writing this: I was delighted to see how Ainslie had blossomed from her “European experience.” Not too many years ago, she was girl who’d go to sleepovers and call at 2 a.m. because she was “homesick” and wanted to come home. Now she is a young woman of the world, ably navigating the globe like Marco Polo of Venice on his way to China.

I couldn’t be prouder of her.

Venice in Pictures

For easter weekend, my dad, Katy, and I headed off to Venice. Excited about guest posting my dad jotted down notes each night of the days in Venice and the week before. So have no fear, you'll get to read some of his thoughts. But for now, I thought I would do my own updating of the weekend through the many pictures I took. At the beginning of my study abroad experience, I was disappointed in myself that I never seemed to put the camera down and just live the moment. Now, I think on the other side of things. Through the lens of a camera, I am able to get even more excited about what I see around me and capture the moments I experienced. I'm no photographer, but I do enjoy photographs and catching little hints of the special things in everyday life: light, color, symmetry, repetition, etc. 

So here is Venice... through the lens of a camera.

We stayed near (the above) about 10 minutes away from St. Mark's Square and away from the noisy crowded tourist spots in an apartment found on airbnb.com. The first day we were greeted by the liveliest human beings I had ever met, and the friendliest too.

We headed to the Jewish Ghetto the next day and took a bridge walking tour through the different parts of the oldest Jewish "ghetto" in the world. It was a wonderful break from the busy parts of Venice and the incredible history behind it all made the scene that much grander.

When we arrived in Venice, I spotted a sign advertising Magnum Photographer, Elliott Erwitt's "Personal Best", so naturally the rest of the day was spent navigating on the water buses trying to find where "Tre Oci", the museum displaying his works. It turned out to be one of my favorite things we did in Venice, and I hope my dad and Katy felt the same. Above are five of his famous dog works in obviously my favorite room of the exhibit. However this photograph won my heart as my favorite photo. 

If you have never seen or heard of Mr. Erwitt, I definitely recommend you taking a look at his work. Studying him in senior year of high school, he instantly became my favorite photographer. 

Elliott combines gentle whimsy with ironic observation of everyday life. Often his works involve visual puns that make the viewer look twice; such clever comedy requires that every picture be organized with great elegance and precision, "You can find pictures anywhere"..."It's simply a matter of noticing things and organizing them". 

-From the display wall

Elliott is known well for his works photographing Marilyn Monroe, Jack Kerouac, Nixon, Obama, Che Guevara, and so many others (and of course every sort of dog imaginable). He was born to a russian family and spent his childhood in Italy before moving to America in his teens.

We "accidentally" stepped on to 3 water buses sans water bus passes. In the end, Venice got their money's worth.

We checked out Murano, an island (east?) of Venice and took a look inside many glass blowing shops. As we were there, the clouds grew dark but luckily the rain stayed away until we were safely back at our apartment.

After that was Burano, where we had our very own easter egg hunt (with buildings...). I was thankful that my dad and KT agreed to head out to the island, because it was something I had missed last visit (because of a certain clown mishap). In the end, we decided that the town was lucky it painted their homes because other than that it was somewhat underwhelming. It was for beautiful pictures however!

Thanks to Katy, we stepped off the water bus a few stops before where our apartment was. This little walk from the bus stop to the apartment won my favorite place in Venice. There were beautiful parks all around and wisteria hanging above the canals. Last but not least there were no people (other than those who lived there.) It was also home to a bakery we went to that night for treats and a small dinner. 

More on Venice and the past week to come, when I receive an email from my father. It was a great trip and even better company. Ciao for now!

Venezia

Venice, I had seen it in movies, read about it in textbooks, looked at photographs of it from friends, and have always wanted to go there. Yesterday, I finally got the chance! Kaitlin and I decided against a long weekend trip and spend less money for a day trip to Venice on the first day of Carnival. Instead of messing with the train system and paying more money, we decided to let Bus2Alps plan our transportation (and just our transportation) there and back. Arriving around 1, we had eight hours to explore whatever we wanting in the city. Our first thought was to go see an Island off of the main city islands, Burano. It is built with many different colored buildings and homes and looks absolutely brilliant in pictures. Unfortunately, we didn't go on the water bus with the rest of the Bus2Alps crew and ended up not getting to Burano-- as people, including two clowns, kept giving us wrong instructions. It was one of our first experiences of truly being lost in translation. 

Nevertheless, after about an hour of water-bussing around, we were back to San Marco and were too hungry and too wide-eyed to be bummed out from missing Burano. We made it our first goal to find food-- and fast. It was about 3:30 by then and neither of had eaten that much today. We finally found a restaurant that served pizza for a good price. I ordered a Margherita pizza and Kaitlin had one with prosciutto and potatoes on it. We soon learned that it was a chain restaurant, but it sure didn't taste like it! It was probably the best pizza I have had since I have been in Italy. But really anything would have tasted good at that moment. After lunch, dinner... linner? we set out for some exploring. We tasted hot wine from the wine fountain that the Carnival festivities had brought to Venice. It was incredibly sweet, but it kept my hands warm.. so I was happy. Then we went inside of the St. Mark's Basilica. This had to have been one of the most beautiful buildings I have ever seen. Inside was covered in gold and the vibrant colors that popped from the exterior of the building were beautiful against the blue grey skies.

Afterwards, Kaitlin and I checked out some of the Carnival activities and marveled over all of the costumes. Later we had met a lady who actually lived in Venice and she told us that this was the smallest crowd she had seen in a long time. She had been told it was because of the weather and the economic situation in Italy. Either way, I didn't mind and it was fun seeing adults have as much fun in their costumes as kids do when trick-or-treating. We set off later to explore around the city to see what we could find. There we so many hidden alleyways and turns that you could spend days just walking around this city and still not see everything. It was all so beautiful. The greyish-blue of the water versus the light pink and yellow of the buildings made my heard turn every few seconds. 

Kaitlin and I had bought masks earlier in the day, and I told myself that as the sun went down, my mask would come out. Sure enough, it was dark outside and I made an attempt to put my mask on for the rest of the night. But a couple of minustes later, I had to take it off because my ears no longer had my hat or hair covering them and they were about to break off. But that doesn't mean the fun was over. We stopped to buy postcards for souvenirs and noticed the Ponte Rialto on one of them. Soon after we went searching-- and finally found the beautiful bridge that (sort of) gives the Ponte Vecchio a run for its money (but only a little bit....) Crossing the bridge and a hundred pictures later we stumbled upon many bakeries and small shops.

Trying the many sweet delicacies of the Carnival was also on our list. So when the bakery looked good enough (which was almost always), we took a pit stop in side to look around at the pastries. We even tried a couple too. My favorite was a type of fritelle with cream inside and filled with bits of raisins. It was so good!  After a while, both Kaitlin and I were starting to get too cold to walk any longer. Luckily we came upon a really cool bookstore that had picture books, guide books, chapter books, italian books, english books... you name it piled on top of one another on shelves and tables and gondolas even. I looked around for any familiar books to purchase, but this shop sort of turned into more of an art project (it was so beautiful and colorful) rather than a book store. However, it kept us warm and the owner was so friendly! When we were leaving he told us ciao and that he loved us both. All in all I'm so happy we decided to go inside "the most beautiful bookstore in the world" (said the sign out front.)

Finally, it was an hour before we had to get back on the water bus to meet the Bus2Alps crowd in Florence. After returning to San Marco to see the last bit of the Carnevale festivities that day, we decided it was too cold to wait outside so we found a small "snack bar" for some tea. We sat there looking at our pictures and talking about the day, thankful for the hot tea and sample of cookies the owner gave us as a surprise. It was a really busy but great day and we were glad that we got to see as much as we did in one day. I definitely hope to get back to Venice sometime in my life when the weather is warmer to see more of the gorgeous city as well as Burano. However I don't know if I'll be taking Bus2Alps there (maybe somewhere else though), as we had to wait an extra hour for the buses to arrive... of course we chose the bus with the girl who was turning 21 at midnight and decided to be as loud as possible. But hey you only turn 21 on a bus once in your lifetime and luckily they all passed out shortly afterwards. 

Great first real adventure out of Florence (besides Pisa, I guess)! I have also updated the pictures so check them out here or on the link at the top of the page! Ciao ya'll! (kidding about the y'all part)