#i could go on for hours about milan's cathedral | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slightlycrazylovelessfamily-blog · 9 months

Text

We are back, 8 years later. Why not keep a daily journal of our adventures again, so here we go.

Quotes of the trip:

- Children fill a void you didn’t know you had

Day 1: Tailwind

It seems these days when you take a red eye there is a tailwind. No complaints, just noticing. It isn’t right to complain about tailwinds…bad mojo.

We left JFK around 615pm Saturday, July 30th for Milan. An accident near JFK made it a little tighter than we hoped…perhaps 15 mins before boarding started. Sleeping wasn’t great on the 7.5 hour flight. Dinner was good, a few episodes of The Last Dance for me, Dungeons and Dragons or straight to sleep for others.

We got our 9 passenger VW van (stick shift) and away we went to Lake Como where Stacy had arranged a lunch. As we were approaching the restaurant we saw what looked like Old Town and found a parking spot. Following a local family with a stroller we hit the gold mine. Slowly it changed from sleepy, shutters closed, walking between castles to vibrate market with coffee shops, a beautiful church and lots of people. I tried my first coffee - cappuccino - which wasn’t bad, but I don’t think I’ll be an addict anytime soon.

Putting our plan together to have lunch and get into Milan for a tour of the Duomo Milan - we bought tickets and split up to position the car for a quick getaway. We discover the intricacies of driving in areas that are also plazas for pedestrians - not even sure cars should or could be allowed in, but they were.

Lunch over looking Lake Como was sensational. Private club to the left, lake in front and smiles all around. A nice walk, the sights of water are great for fighting off jet lag.

We drive a little more than an hour to find our airbnb next to a canal, drop off our bags, and zoom off to the Duomo. Again, cutting it tight, the last people are allowed up to the Terrace at 410 and it was 405ish. Not sure what this was all about, we get out of the elevator to find ourselves on the marble roof of a massive cathedral - seemingly as large as any other. It seems to be on the back end of a complete cleaning and restoration project. The detail at the top - where it can’t be seen from the street, is incredible. To walk around in the shade and the sun, was unlike anything we have ever done nor will likely be able to do again. No way you can do this in the US; that said, it was a brilliant way to draw visitors in, have a chance to talk about God, (re)introduce God, create a moment to be grateful, pray for others, imagine what it must have been like to…

For everything I could remember, it seemed like the grandest church I have ever seen. At least 60 marble columns that seemed at least 8 stories tall. FACTS: it is the largest church in Italy, yes largest; 3rd largest in the world and construction started in 1386. There are 52 internal pillars that are 11 feet in diameter and 78 feet tall. It has more statues 3,400+ and gargoyles 135 and 700 figures, than any building in the world. It was incredible, both in beauty and in scale. To imagine this was built so long ago and still a marvel, is incredible. Check the video below of the opera singer outside the Duomo that you could hear singing on the roof, it was like a combination of Fergie and Jesus.

No trip to Europe is complete without at least one church stop, so after checking that off the list we went to our airbnb, an apartment with AC near a main metro stop. After watching Friends episode, the showers started, mom and I went to grab some groceries and dinner. I went to bed about 7 and I’m sure by 830 all was quiet. It had been a great first day that we all powered through.

Day 2: Just like new

Alarms had to be set for 930 to make sure we didn’t sleep to late. We needed to give ourselves time to be out by 11am and on to our next adventure, which was the Cinque Terre town of Monterosso al Mare. About a 3 hour drive toward the Ocean, we got our first taste of winding, narrow roads that seem like Cat Rock Road. A temperamental transmission rearing its head and opposing drivers that seem to like the middle of the narrow road made it a good intro for the legendary Amalfi Coast road ahead. Our mirror got its first hit, but once we got to our destination we realized it just popped into place and it was just like new.

The drive into town and to our apartment was only doable with google maps, it would be hard to describe otherwise. Our parking spot could only be introduced to us with video, again to hard to describe in native language, much less another. It required a key, a gate, faith and being good at using the clutch going up hill. The walk back was twice as quick, again, with a sense of adventure, a little faith and lots of luck, we found a trail as if we were locals.

Quick change and head to the beach - smiles and happiness were instantly found in the blue waters of the Ligurian Sea. A big rock was a great place to swim out, climb and jump back into the water - Piper holds the record for number of jumps.

Again, I’m reminded the common happy place is near water, ideally a beach with waves.

A walk, a return to the apartment, showers and a plan for dinner emerges. Catina Miky is found and devoured. Date night for me and Stacy with the kids at a separate table. Both tables started with anchovies, which is the speciality of the area, which was great. Stacy and I had two more fish courses of specialities but still saved room for gelato. Two and half hours for dinner in Italy requires the neutral gear; perhaps at some point I’ll be able to be so chill, I won’t need to ask for the check.

We head out of the restaurant to find a full moon so close it seemed we could reach out and touch it.

Day 3

#italy2023lovelessfam #slightly crazy lovelessfamily

0 notes

picklesabroad · 11 months

Text

Croatia

We got into Split about 10:30pm. We were pooped and ready for bed, but couldn’t resist a poke around in the old city. Lucas, Ayesha and I wandered into the old town, and stumbled across a very old town square, where there was a man signing, and people sitting around listening and drinking wine, dancing under the stars in a place that is just so old. So much has happened in those walls and we get to be another layer of history to unfold there. Anyway, it was a magical moment.

We headed straight to bed once we got back to our accomodation. We woke up and Tony had already sussed us a breakfast spot - Ciri Biri Bella - which was delightful and served some great food, fantastic coffee and a great soundtrack too.

We spend the rest of the day looking the old city, going into the cathedral and climbing too many stairs. We did almost 30,000 steps that day! I had a gelato - pistachio/greek yogurt and mango - the greek yoghurt was too much but the pistachio was fantastic. The first gelato of the trip, quickly to be followed by many, many more.

In the afternoon we were ready for a dip, so we walked over the hill from the town to a beach where we went for a swim. Ayesha and I walked around the beach a bit further from the main swimming beach and found some quiet, crystal clear rocky beaches to swim in. Ayesha was about to get in the water when a local man came running up, warning us about sea urchins! Prickly bottom dwellers that get stuck in your feet. On went the shoes, and we discovered the best tactic was to carefully pick your way into the water, and once it was deep enough, belly flop in and dog paddle around. The water was cold but not freezing - in fact, very refreshing.

We swum for a while and then it was back to the accomodation for a rest, and then it was off for a walk up to the lookout point, and then up to the top of the hill above the town, where there was a park. It was beautiful.

Dinner was then had, and an early night for all.

The next day Lu, Ayesha and I had a speed boat trip around the islands off Split. We went 2 hours out (1/3 of the way to Italy) to an island that had some blue caves. Absolutely gorgeous. From the blue caves we went up to the blue lagoon for a swim, and then on to Hvar for a wander around. Hvar was gorgeous to - old stone walls and the bluest water. From Hvar we went on a surprise trip to Milan - another bay town on the way back to Split. Phenomenal. We had been out for about 8 hours at this point on the boat and were ready to come home. We zoomed home and met Robbie and Tony for dinner and an early night.

The next day was our last day in Split, so we got up early and grabbed some snacks for the bus. We got on the bus (after somewhat of a confusing experience at the bus hub), and made the 5 hour trip down to Dubrovnik. Our accomodation was a beautiful apartment just minutes away from the old town. We got set up in our new place and then mooched around, grabbed some dinner in the Old Town and then hit the hay.

Our first morning in Dubrovnik we spent exploring the city. It is the best in the morning before the crowds and the heat, so we took in what we could, before deciding we wanted to buy the Dubrovnik pass - a pass that would enable us to look at the majority of the historical attractions in the Old Town, as well as access the path around the top of the wall. We went to the Monastrey, a couple of forts and maybe some other things, before I decided it was high time for a gelato. I had found a little gelato place that looked promising, and MAMMA MIA was it good. I got the

Croatia.

Dinner was then had, and an early night for all.

Post gelato we went home for lunch, which was sandwiches and fillings procured from the supermarket down the road, and off we trotted back down to the Old Town for an afternoon walk around the wall. It was gorgeous but hot, we were up there for about 2 hours overall. At the end of the wall walk, Lucas and Ayesha and I had a beer on top of the wall, watching the sun slowly sink into the Adriatic Sea. It still is one of my favourite moments.

Post wall beer, we wandered back to the accom where we made a dinner of salad with local peaches, sausages and grilled vege, which we ate the courtyard outside. Delightful. The next day was more of the same, wandering, eating, looking, gelato-ing. We did pop over to the beach for a swim which was just divine. Dinner again was cooked by us and eaten in the courtyard - steak, salad, grilled vegetables. Yummo.

Our last day in Dubrovnik, we had to check out of our accomodation at 10am and mooch around the Old Town till about 2pm, so we made sure we got a gelato for the road and spent some time people watching. There is so much to look at and see in these places - it really boggles my mind. We headed up the airport in the afternoon, excited to be heading to a different country - GREECE! Incredible.

0 notes

danielxricciardo · 3 years

Text

Winner

Summary: You met Pierre at the Brazilian Grand Prix and for 3 months you couldn't get in touch.

Warnings: fluff, like 2 swear words

Word count: 2.3k

This one was requested by @jugasly and I know it is not exactly what she wanted but I really tried and I hope you liked it!

Avenida Paulista's Boulevard catches the eye especially through the skyscrapers similar to those in the big North American cities. Brazil's most modern city has much to offer tourists around the world. The most beautiful museums in South America can be found here, the shore is furrowed with lots of sunny beaches. And its nightlife has attracted many tourists.

The largest city in South America makes New York look small. The buses make an unbearable noise and black smoke spreads over the upper floors of the skyscrapers which, through the heat that maintains it during the day, turn the city into a real hell.

I felt myself waking up but I was determined to keep my eyes closed for a little longer but in a few seconds I was awakened violently by the sound of car engines. That's what I deserve for booking the hotel next to the Formula 1 circuit.

You reluctantly got out of bed and went to the window. I saw how the Formula 1 cars are brought on the circuit and I look at my watch. Fuck, it was pre-qualification practice, did I really sleep that much? Honestly, I arrived in the room at 5 o'clock and at 6 I fell asleep so I shouldn't have been so surprised that I slept in.

I was in Brazil with my two best friends to watch a Formula 1 race live and we chose Brazil because we needed a good reason to leave Europe and visit South America for a week, right?

I woke up my friends and in less than half an hour we were leaving the hotel, running, with a big cup of coffee in our hand.

We passed quickly through the front gate, all we needed now was to find our seats.

All around us could be heard the cars speeding on the circuit. My skin was goosebumps and I was looking at my friends who had the same smile on their faces that I think I had.

We find our seats and watch the last 15 minutes of training. We held in our hands the tickets that gave us access to the paddock. We were going to go there after the drivers returned to the garages.

My eyes were searching for Aston Martin Hospitality. I knew that if I returned home from this Grand Prix without an autograph from Sebastian Vettel for my father, I could very well stay in Brazil for the rest of my life.

Being so focused on looking for the green building, I didn't realize that someone was coming in front of me only when I hit a hard chest. I heard my girlfriends gasping. Fuck, I just hope I didn't run into Toto Wolff.

I open my eyes slightly and see a driver's suit, white and blue. Alpha Tauri?

I look up at the driver's face. To be damned. Pierre Gasly. With ruffled hair and a red face, Pierre Gasly was in front of me.

"I'm really, really sorry, I didn't look where I was going. Sorry!" I say and take a step back, stepping out of his personal space.

As I walked away from him, I saw that he was not alone but with Pyry.

"It's okay, I wasn't looking where I was going either," he says, running his hand through his hair, trying to fix it.

I smile at them and then I look at my friends giggling at our embarrassing date.

Pyry motions to Pierre to someone behind me and that makes him take his eyes off me.

"Oh, I have to go," he tells me. "Have fun."

I stood still for a few moments, unable to move. I just met my favorite driver and it couldn't be more embarrassed than that.

"The first meeting with your children's future father was very good." my best friend, Lila, tells me.

"Shut up."

The fact that I found Aston Martin Hospitality and managed to get the autograph for my father and I could take a few pictures with Sebastian Vettel erased the embarrassment caused by the disastrous meeting I had with Pierre Gasly.

For a little time.

As soon as we got out of Aston Martin Hospitality Lila pulled us to McLaren Hospitality, hoping to meet Lando Norris and take some pictures with him, about 100, but who's counting, right?

I was with my head on the phone, sending my father some pictures I took with Sebastian Vettel when I came across someone, this time I lost my balance and I was about to fall but two strong arms caught me. Pierre Gasly, again.

"Honestly, we should stop meeting like this, you could get hurt," he says and laughs. "Are you ok?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," I say and bite my lip. "I should really start looking where I'm going."

My friends secretly took pictures of us.

"It's the second time we've met in less than 10 minutes, maybe the universe wants to tell us something, don't you think?" he says and holds out his hand. "Pierre."

I hold out my hand and smile wide. "Y/N."

I turn my gaze to Lila and Erica, presenting them to Pierre as well.

"I hope you feel good in the paddock. So far, the world has been nice to you and your friends?"

"Yes, everything has been good so far. We've only been to Aston Martin and they've all been very nice to us. Except for a few people who don't look where they're going, we haven't had any unexpected events." I say and laugh.

Pierre starts laughing too.

"Yes, I will try to look after you from now on and avoid you. I don't want to be the reason you fall. Although, if something happens, I know the medical team and you don't need medical insurance here."

I asked Pierre if he wanted to take some pictures with me and he accepted immediately. At least that's what I can do after I've run into you twice already.

For the next few hours, Lila and Erica, and I walked from one Hospitality to another, looking for drivers. They were all very nice to us and agreed to pose with us.

When it was time to start qualifying, we went to the room provided by McLaren for guests to watch.

I followed Pierre's position in the standings, Lila followed Lando's position and Erica followed Max's position. All three of us breathed a sigh of relief when the three boys passed into Q3.

Lando will leave from the seventh position tomorrow.

Pierre will start from the fourth position.

Max will start from pole position.

The three of us went to the hotel, ready to rest well for the next day.

If the atmosphere for qualifying had seemed charged to me, then the atmosphere before the race could not be described.

Yesterday everyone was behaving nicely and they were smiling. Now everyone was running past everyone, there were many screams and many curses could be heard. And everyone was frowning, not a smile in sight.

We didn't see any drivers, so we headed to McLaren Hospitality to get comfortable for the race. I unwittingly was disappointed. I wanted to see Pierre before the race to wish him good luck.

Although I hadn't wished him good luck, Pierre was lucky. He finished the race in second place, behind Max Verstappen. I was very happy and I wanted to go and congratulate him as soon as possible.

I watched the award from the window, filming and taking pictures which I was sure I would cherish for a long time to come.

"Congratulations!" I scream when I see him and he looks at me. "It was a very good race, congratulations!"

"Thank you!" he says and smiles at me.

I asked my friends to take some pictures with the trophy and champagne and then Pierre left, being shouted by someone from the team.

"Stay here, I'd like to see you one more time before you have to leave."

I could die then and there when I heard his words. Pierre Gasly wanted to see me again.

It's just that it hasn't happened before. We stayed there for another two hours and Pierre could not be found. It was getting late and everyone was starting to leave, so we left.

Monza is the most important economic, industrial and administrative center of the Brianza sub-region, being the third-largest city in Lombardy, with a population of about 120,000 inhabitants. When people think of Monza, the first thing that comes to mind is the famous Formula 1 Grand Prix that is held here every year.

Although many may think that Milan eclipses this smaller city, Monza should not be dismissed, having an absolutely sublime historical architecture, such as the Cathedral and the Leoni Bridge, but also features the huge Parco di Monza and of course the famous Formula 1 Autodromo.

The historic center of Monza stretches over a large area and in this area, you can find most historical sites and a guided tour of the history of cities.

Three months have passed since the Brazilian Grand Prix.

Three months since I first saw Pierre Gasly.

Although I have pictures of the two of us, I can't help but regret the fact that I didn't see him then; I will probably never see him again.

The exams passed and to relax completely my father and I got tickets to the Italian Grand Prix.

What I didn't know was that my father had taken VIP tickets.

That means we're going to the paddock.

Does that mean I can meet Pierre?

I tried not to have too many hopes, in the end, there are thousands of people there, I can't meet him, can I?

I didn't meet him on Friday. It had been the two practice sessions, everyone was as relaxed as possible, my father took pictures with everyone he saw, but Pierre was nowhere to be seen.

On Saturday we were late and did not catch the practice, but we saw the qualifications. Pierre starts from the tenth position. To be honest, I didn't have high expectations for tomorrow's race for Pierre.

And man I was wrong about that.

The whole race I was speechless. I heard my father from lap 23 and to the end cursing the accident that took Charles Leclerc out of the race.

My eyes were only on car number 10. I had the impression that I was blinking only when the camera moved to another car. I forgot to breathe when I saw the overtaking he was doing.

But he won.

Pierre Gasly won in Monza. His first ever Formula One career win and it was my home race.

Before we went out in the paddock looking for Pierre, after the premiere, I wiped away the tears I didn't know I had.

It wasn't hard for me to find him. Where there were a lot of people screaming and chanting, he must have been there too.

And I was right. He is enjoying his first victory with the whole team. Everyone wanted to hug and congratulate him.

As if he noticed my presence among the hundreds of people who were there, Pierre looked at me. I noticed his face light up and he came towards me.

"Y/N!" he says and hugs me.

I'm sure my father was shocked somewhere in the back. I hadn't told him that I had met Pierre, but after this hug, I will definitely have to explain to him what the situation is.

"Congratulations!" I tell him and I smile broadly. "First victory! Wow!"

He shrugs nonchalantly.

"I was lucky."

I laugh and hit him playfully in the shoulder.

"With Hamilton being penalized? You would have overtaken him without that penalty."

He looked into my eyes.

"I haven't found you after the race in Brazil."

The fact that he remembered had taken me by surprise. I was sure he couldn't remember the fact that he had proposed to me to stay on the circuit so that he could see me one more time.

I was sure that the second he left, he forgot what I looked like and forgot my name.

But no. He still knew me. He still knew my name and knew we had to see each other.

"I haven't seen you there before and I left after about two hours, it was getting late."

"I'm sorry, the teamwork had taken longer than I initially anticipated. When I went to look for you, no one was there. Then I realized I didn't even have your phone number. I tried to look for you on Instagram, but do you know how many girls are there with your name?"

I laughed.

"Well, I could give my phone number to the race winner now, if he wants it, of course. Do you think he would accept it?" you ask laughing.

Pierre blushes and bites his lip.

"I'm sure he would accept."

I take out of my bag the notebook and pen I was carrying with me to receive the drivers' autographs and write my phone number. I hand him the sheet just as Pierre is being taken by some engineers to the garage to celebrate the victory.

I laugh and wave at him.

I was at home with my father, watching a boring movie on Netflix. I've been looking at the phone constantly since last night, waiting for a message from Pierre but I haven't received anything.

"Ugh, this movie is so boring," I say and take my phone off the table. "Let me look for a more interesting one."

That's when I receive a message from a number I didn't save. I received a picture.

It was the picture with the prize Pierre received.

"The winner of the race has received your number and is wondering if you are free to dine with him."

I bit my lip, unable to control the smile on my face.

"If the winner of the race wants to go out on a date with me, who am I to say no?"

"8 o'clock?"

"I'll send you the address right away."

#pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly one shot #pierre gasly oneshot #pierre gasly #f1 fanfiction #f1 oneshot #f1 one shot #f1 2021 #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula one oneshot #formula one imagine #forumula one #formula 1 oneshot #formula one #formula 1 #alpha tauri

185 notes · View notes

kei-blog-i · 2 years

Text

①One day, I went to France. I went to Seine river in

Paris. I got on the boat. I was crossing to Seine river by

boat. Looking around, I saw Notre Dame Cathedral.

Also, many other historical buildings were lined up. For

example, Eiffel Tower, Louvre Museum and so on. I get

engrossed in scenery.

　At that time, this boat was rocking pretty bard. The

ship hit a mass of rock. The man was thrown out in the

river. So, the man fell into the river. And, the man

flowed into the river.

　I got into the river in a deuced hurry. And, I swam in

the river. I was crazy about my self. But, I noticed. I can

not swim. So, I am to be drowned. I swiftly swings my

arms side to side on the shore.At that time, the woman

noticed me. The woman had a float coincidentally. The

woman threw a float. I swam with it. I have swam to

find the man. And, I found the man while swimming.

The man became listless and tired. I rescued the man. I

carried the man on the shore. I was able to help the

man safely. Also, I was safely too. I was relieved.

　Three days later, I got up in the morning. It was cold.

I got a fever. So, I had caught a cold.

②One day, I went to Italy. I went to Venice. Venice is

called the city of water. I went to San Marco temple in

Venice. Looking around, there were a lot of people in

place. I was surprised at the sight. What a surprise,

there was Yuki Ishikawa in place. He is a volleyball

player, and representation from Japan. I am a fan of

him. He is playing volleyball in Milan. He came to go

sightseeing coincidentally in Venice. I have been seen

the situation for a while. A lot of people gradually

melted away. I was to muster up mine's courage, and I

talked to him. I told him whom I was a fan. I was

surprised at his remark. What a surprise, he will guide

me around Milan. He was just on his way home in

Milan.

　We left Venice. It takes about 3 hours by train from

Venice to Milan. We finally arrived in Milan. First of all,

we went to Milan Cathedral. It was more powerful than

you can see in the photo. Next, we went to Santa Maria

delle Grazie church. It seems to be the only world

heritage in Milan. We were tired from walking so much.

So, we were hungry. We went into the restraunt and ate

pizza and pasta in place. Italian pizza and pasta were

delicious than in Japan. After that, we ate sweets. We

ate the famous gelato in Italy. I am normally a light

eater, so I can not eat a lot. However, I was able to eat a

lot on this day.

　And I was guided a certain place by him. It was his

team's home stadium. A volleyball game will be held in

this stadium tonight. I decided to watch this match.

Finally, this match had started. He was deciding more

and more spikes. His spikes were powerful. And his

team won. His performance in the game today was

amazing. After the match, I talked to him.

　I left the stadium. I went to the hotel. That really

seemed like a dream sightseeing with him. It has been

the most wonderful day of my life. I fell asleep.

③One day, I went to Germany with my friend. I went

to Munich. The day was just round the corner in

Christmas. Christmas market was held in Munich. The

Christmas market was gorgeous in Munich. Various

kinds of markets were held in Christmas market. We

ate a lot of food there. So, we were very full. The

sausage was the most delicious. Sausage are famous

in Germany. We enjoyed Christmas market enough

time.

　When I was about to go home, we heard music some

where. Christmas music was playing in Marien square.

We decided to go home after listening to the

performance. The performance had finished. We tried

to go to the hotel with my friend. I went to the

restroom before leaving here. My friend was waiting

outside. And I went back to my friend. But my friend

was not here. I desperately called my friend's name. I

went back to Christmas market square again. But I

could not find my friend. I tried to talk to someone.

　It was at that time. A dog suddenly appeared in front

of me. A small and cute dog like a toy poodle. The dog

was barking at me all the time. I thought that it was

very strange. The dog keeps barking all the time. And

the dog suddenly started walking. I'm not sure, but I

followed the dog for the time being. The dog keeps

moving forward. I followed the dog, I came into the

depths of the mountains unnoticeably.

　It was at that time. I found my friend. My friend was

crying. And I cried too. The dog guided me here.

Thanks to the dog I was able to find my friend. I

stroked the dog's head. However, my friend did not

remember why she was here. And the dog has

disappeared. For the time being, I was relieved to find a

friend. We thanked the dog. We had a mysterious

experience.

1 note · View note

hadi628 · 4 years

Text

A Perfect Day In London!

We always get excited every time we visit London. A city that is continually changing and growing. London is one of the most loved and visited cities in the world. It is I think at the top of every traveler's bucket list. London is a city that is as modern as can be, while still holding on to its roots. What makes the city stand out from the rest is its diversity, which provides for a rich, shared cultural experience that you will take back home with you.

I love the photos above where we captured the classic red phone booth, red double-decker bus, and the iconic Big Ben all together in one frame.

London features some highly innovative architecture. However, a trip through London will also take you back to its past. The royal palaces, the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, the Big Ben, and St. Paul's Cathedral stand tall as the city around them constantly evolves.

When you visit Regent Street, make sure you allow time to stand and wonder. Try to ignore the hustle and bustle. Stand and admire looking up from Piccadilly Circus Station in the daytime and you will be rewarded with the true British majesty of architectural scenery.

Piccadilly Circus is a thriving hub in Central London. It’s within a short walk of Chinatown’s restaurants, West End Theaters, Covent Garden, Trafalgar Square, Leicester Square, and The National Gallery.

Explore Trafalgar Square. It is a public square in Central London. It is a very popular tourist destination. Tourists gather there, tour buses circle the central monument and political activists gather to demonstrate. Trafalgar Square itself has many interesting sights. Within walking distance, you can easily go shopping in Covent Garden, have a meal in Chinatown, see popular shows in the glittering West End, walk down Whitehall to Parliament Square to see the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben, and continue on to Buckingham Palace.

Victoria and Albert Museum

We enjoyed an afternoon at the Victoria and Albert Museum. V&A as it is commonly called, holds major collections of British and international fine art, photography, architecture, and fashion. Admission is free. But this museum will surprise you by the scope and character of its exhibits and facilities. It’s a huge place. There’s so much to see and I could spend hours here. The staff are helpful. It’s definitely worth a visit.

You could spend endless days exploring London's best sightseeing locations without ever running out of unique things to see and do. And, as an added bonus, many of the best places to visit are free.

Afternoon Tea @ Harrods

As for visiting Harrods, it all started with tea, it should come as no surprise because the elegant Harrods Georgian Tea Room is among the best in London and has been delighting guests with afternoon tea since 1896. Choose from cream tea or high tea and settle in for a tiered selection of mouth watering treats. From delicate finger sandwiches and freshly baked scones to picture-perfect pastries.

Are you a cream or jam first kinda person? Whatever you prefer is perfectly fine. And don’t worry about the dress code. You don’t need to be dressed up to the nines to enter. The dress code is smart casual.

Do I recommend Harrods Georgian Tea Room? Definitely. The excellent service and relaxed environment made it an enjoyable experience. After tea, you can do some walking exercise by shopping at Harrods humongous store.

How could you not love London?

Click on links below to read more:

The Tower Bridge

Breakfast in Milan

Gelato In Florence

An Afternoon Tea At The Langham London

Click to visit Victoria & Albert Museum Photo of the building of V&A courtesy of V&A

#london #england #uk #afternoon tea #victoria & albert museum #v&a museum #regent street #harrods #Travel Around the World

9 notes · View notes

thewritinghole · 4 years

Text

For today’s post I’ve decided to add more pictures into my narrative. I’m not sure why I wasn’t doing so all along, and I plan to go back and edit my previous posts. However, I must warn you that my camera quality is subject to the whims of my phone, which is not always (or even usually) reliable.

A few weeks ago I headed to Cremona with some friends for the “Festa del Torrone.” If you’re like me and have never heard of torrone before, it’s basically a nutty, nougaty dessert made from almonds in some sort of sugary white binding agent that I never did learn the exact name of but liked the taste of nonetheless.

Cremona is about an hour outside of Brescia, and I visited alongside three friends because it was one friend (we’ll call her A)’s birthday. A is a dessert aficionado and apparently also a violin enthusiast, and if there’s one thing Cremona is known for, it’s violins. And torrone, actually. So that makes two things!

We went together on a nippy, damp day and were greeted by a big street festival packed to the gills with different desserts. We ate crunchy peanut brittle, chocolate bars, coffee and hot chocolate (obviously; it’s still Italy), chocolate salami (not what you think!), and, of course, torrone. I bought a slice of rum and chocolate torrone that tasted like biting into solidified sweet alcohol and a slice of chocolate salami, which is a log of dark chocolate and bits of what tasted to me like cookie dough (but who can say what it was, truly) made to look like, you guessed it, salami. It was probably my favorite treat of the day, not being a huge fan of nuts. (The edible ones, of course, you perv.)

In addition to oodles of sweets there were also lots of street musicians out. We passed a musical duo featuring a violinist and a man who played both guitar AND electric bass, which is absolutely bonkers. He basically had both instruments propped up on his lap and alternated between playing them in perfect time to the beat. As someone who has learned a bit of guitar, I was absolutely blown away. It’s so hard to play even just one of those instruments, let alone both at once! Needless to say I left them a bit of money in their hat—it was the least I could do after filming them.

We also caught the tail end of a performance of the songs from Disney’s Aladdin, sung in Italian, of course. It appeared to be a high school or college-age acting troupe, and they were quite talented. The man who sang Jafar’s songs was my favorite—but then, it was hard to disappoint me, because I am an ardent Aladdin fan. It’s tied for my favorite Disney movie alongside Lion King and Tangled. (I know it’s lame to have a three-way tie for favorite movie, but you couldn’t ask me to pick between those three. They’re all cinematic glory.)

There were also people running around in costumes. Some were mascots of the sweets being sold, including a person wearing a humanoid torrone felt costume and another dressed as an ice cream cone. There was also a truly horrifying visage of Peppa Pig strolling around in the crowds, waiting like a hawker in Times Square for someone to dare take a picture with them and then force the poor sap to pay up for the pleasure. More impressively, there was at one point a line of men and women dressed in white costumes walking on stilts or in a Cinderella-shaped pumpkin carriage, all done up in LED lights. Stilt walkers never fail to impress me. I am the clumsiest person I know, and have managed to sprain both of my ankles at least twice, on one occasion both within a week of each other. If I were to mount a pair of stilts I would surely die immediately, let alone in such a detailed costume.

Besides the festival, A was eager to check out Cremona’s musical theater culture. We got a lovely glimpse of the outside of a violin museum that proved too expensive to enter, but out on the lawn they did have a lovely silver statue of a man’s head and torso made of interlocking sections of metal, called “The Beauty of Music.”

We also were able to enter a beautiful cathedral (because those are almost always free) filled with oodles of beautiful paintings and gothic architecture. We also checked out a gorgeous old theater, filled with gold scrollwork and red curtains and appearing to the theater kid in me as the exact place I’d love to star in a production of Hamlet or Les Miserables.

We enjoyed plenty of food while we were there, of course. Right next to the Cremona train station is a coffeeshop that is apparently historically significant to Cremona, though I don’t remember what for. Perhaps it’s merely the oldest coffeeshop of its kind. Regardless, we stopped there for breakfast that morning and later got a midday meal at a lovely restaurant where I enjoyed raviolis in broth to help stave off the chill. We acquired another friend halfway through the day who met us there from Milan and enjoyed the latter half of the day walking among the torrone markets and shopping. When the day drew to a close and we missed our initial train, we waited out the next one at that same coffeeshop, enjoying hot chocolate—or, in one friend’s case, a “caffé corretto”, which is essentially an espresso with a shot of booze.

It was a fun day of eating junk food, exploring one of Italy’s lesser-known cities, and talking about traveling and books. AND SPEAKING OF BOOKS, did you know that I wrote one recently? What an organic segue into talking about my book! It’s called I’ll Make You A Deal and is available on Amazon in paperback and eBook. Click this link to check it out if you’d like!

Sorry my updates on this blog have slowed down so considerably; I hope to catch all of you up to speed on my traveling exploits during the upcoming Christmas break, when I won’t be so busy running around Brescia doing private lessons and working out problem after problem with my bank account.

Ci vediamo pronto,

Quinn

Travel Log – Cremona For today's post I've decided to add more pictures into my narrative. I'm not sure why I wasn't doing so all along, and I plan to go back and edit my previous posts.

2 notes · View notes

chrysaliseuro2019 · 5 years

Text

Monopoli 2

Next day we started off the day with Alessandro again as we had extended for one more night and had to pay him. He is a very pleasant guy. Still at uni, very smart, laid back, great English and a handsome boy. Obviously also appreciates the finer things in life given his restaurant recommendations which he was pretty passionate about.

Our plan for the day was to head to Polignano a Mare. Post breakfast Liz was feeling tired so wanted to grab another hour’s sleep. Good opportunity for me to check out the cathedral which she had seen the previous night. I also tried on the shoes we had seen the previous day, this time with my orthotics but wrong size. Shame because they were on sale and very reasonably priced. And looked good😥.

The cathedral was very interesting and pretty stunning if you like your grandiose marble columns. And I do. There were also very good paintings and a number of different chapels each of which had a story which was well described in English in the short, paper guide.

The site has been continuously occupied for at least 4000 years with huts built on it in the Bronze Age. A pagan temple was located on the site and in 256AD a Christian church was built in its place so changing religious approach accommodated.

Construction commenced on the original church on this site in 1107 but they did not have wood for roof beams. In 1117 a raft arrived in the harbour carrying a Byzantine icon of the Madonna with child (which really stands out as you wander around the church it is really lovely). Beams from the raft were used to construct the roof of the church. Some of these beams are preserved and can be seen in the appropriately named “Chapel of the Beams”. Wiki describes the events of 1117 as a miracle. Unsure if that is in the biblical or fortuitous sense. Apparently the church also took over 300 years to build. Funds must have been tight. In 1742 the old Romanesque church which was unsafe was demolished and the current baroque church built.

It was now midday and the church was closing with just a few visitors left. I managed to hang on for another 7/8 minutes and was the last to leave. Pretty soon after, Liz called and we headed for Polignano.

Polignano had been recommended both by the Maitre de we liked in Vieste and Alessandro so we were determined to go there. It might even be a loose possibility to spend a night at it if it scrubs up really well. We certainly wondered if we should have headed there and spent one less night in Monopoli. Alessandro said we must visit the Pescaria restaurant which serves various varieties of seafood, in rolls etc. He said it was so successful that they had opened up a second one in Milan. His advice was -just look for the crowds lined up outside and you will know you are there.

Just a short 20 minute drive or so to Polignano. We parked up close to town. Took our bathers as mid thirties but felt like 40 and town right by the sea. Walked past the Roman ruins to get into town and immediately saw a small cove which was the town beach. It was very crowded and really a mousetrap with say 250-300 people on it and many in the water surrounded by cliffs. We weren’t tempted to go in. We did do a “Where’s (the) Wally” photo with me trying to blend into the throng.

We just stood and watched this hubbub for a while. Young macho guys and girls jumping and diving into the water from the surrounding rocks and generally everyone trying to tone up their tans. Noise was pretty loud too. A fun place.

We retreated into town looking for the Pescaria and it was easy to find. A queue outside and in. We had to have lunch and could not go past this place given its local fame. The wait was probably 50 minutes+. Thirty mins to get into the place and order and another 20 to collect it. There were tables and chairs inside and out but it was mayhem and we had seen some benches under trees on the main drag and took our lunch to there. I had a prawn roll which Liz also shared a bit of and she had a slider with prawns. Both excellent and it would be great to be able to get that in Melbourne. The whole experience of queuing, anticipating and the general boisterousness of the place was worth seeing and food good too.

PS - we were amused that waiters came out with trays of food yelling out the number of each order. This right amidst the bedlam of people eating and waiting to be served and conversing (as Italians do - loudly) the old electronic approach where they give you a token which then beeps when food is ready would have been better.

Off for a walk around the old town and as ever in this part of the world a number of narrow streets and picturesque buildings. We dropped into a few shops along the way though no acquisions. Our general feeling - good place to visit for a short while but we pulled the right string with Monopoli. Damned a little with faint praise and definitely worth a visit but wouldn’t stay there.

Now around 4.30 and we headed for home but looking out for a beach. Still very hot. We found one just outside Monopoli again a small, perhaps tiny, cove. We both soon had a swim to cool off. Liz throwing in a relaxed and lazy 200 metres or so of enviably stylish and relaxed freestyle and general floating. Stepping out of the water loose as a goose.

Me, 20 metres of a tad more frenetic doggie paddling after which it was time for a stroll around the nearby cliffs. These were a bit more like those volcanic areas of Victoria by the beach with very sharp rocks which were the result of volcanoes 14 billion years ago.

Any way after 20 minutes or so I returned to find Liz chortling away. An Italian mother with two twins aged about 2 was trying to control these two little tikes who it would be fair to say did not want to be controlled and at age 2 in true Italian style had attitude. Curly black locks they were gorgeous with full moon round faces. Mama was struggling to cope. She was determined to let them stick their toes in the water but not much more as she clearly thought they might drown. This meant she stood in their way if they tried to get too far in ie more than a metre from the sand which was about 6 inches in depth. This though meant that they needed other mischief to create. They would run up and throw sand on their towels which also set mum off. Of course if she ran up and admonished whoever did it the other one would head for the water which meant she had to belt down and guard them and the whole scene repeated itself endlessly with the only constant a frazzled mum and mischievous kids.

It was hilarious and the central culprit of the twins was “Angelo”. We never discovered the other one’s name as mum never used it so he became Angelo 2. All we heard was “Oh Angelo, Angelo”. As a little cameo couple of hours we could not have had much better value. Lovely little beach, great temperature, sandy cove, Angelo and brother in top mischievous form and their behaviour contrasting totally with the little Asian boy who was with Grandma. He was as tranquil as could be and was allowed to go in the water close to the rocks and play and then stood up very calmly on a rock in the sea as grandma changed him ready to leave. Great fun and a minor study in different behaviours plus the gorgeous Angelo twins. Time for us to head home.

Post showers the evening started again at the city square for a quiet drink and people watch and then we looked around for a restaurant in one of the back streets away from the crowd. We had seen a couple on our lost wandering of town. Of course weren’t really sure where they were and could not find one that suited. Either too boisterous or cafe rather than restaurant.

Back we went to the centre of town and then headed in the general direction of one of Alessandro’s recommended pizza places. The one we could not get into a couple of nights earlier (Chine). In truth we didn’t expect to be successful this time either. Well we were lucky. A table outside was free with about a 10 minute wait. No prob. I ducked back to the car which was parked nearby to collect something and by the time I returned Liz was seated. We ordered Napoletana style pizza with olives, anchovies, capers, mozz and some spicy salami. No prob but we then had at least a 45 minute wait. When it rolled up it was worth the wait. Fantastic ingredients, really tasty crunchy crust and something I have never had before - Anchovies served in a tin which we added ourselves to the pizza.

We both agreed that it was arguably the best pizza we had ever eaten. Well done Alessandro again.

It had been yet again a big and varied day.

1 note · View note

jpat82 · 6 years

Text

Don’t

CHAPTER 23

The next week was spent getting ready for Milan, making sure you had clothes, passport. The sense of dread welling up in your chest, you couldn't place the feeling. You knew you should of been excited, it was the first time traveling outside the US, and yet it was there.

It was dark as you and Chris boarded the plane, a steady drizzle fell from the heavens. You found your seats and leaned back, taking in a deep breath, and slowly exhaling. Chris grabbed your hand gently, a look of concern had washed over his face. You smiled over at him, getting lost in those blues of his.

"You okay, baby girl?" He asked softly, his eyes tracking across you face.

"Yeah, just tired." You replied back, stifling a yawn.

"Sorry about making it a red eye, it's just quieter." His voice soft as he brought your knuckles to his lips.

"Chris, we're in public." You giggled softly as your heart leapt to your throat.

He nodded, gently placing your hand back down on the arm rest. Before long the plane took off, rising high in the sky, you could feel your eye lids growing heavy. The plane jolted suddenly, snapping you back awake as you gripped the arm rest tighter.

"Hey," Chris cooed, rubbing the top of your hand in comforting circles. "It's just a bit of turbulence."

"I know." You breathed, counting to ten in your head.

"Sweetheart, are you sure you’re okay? You seem a lot tenser then usual." You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, his face still etched with concern.

"I just, I have a bad feeling, don't ask why, I just do." You took a deep breath, finally turning your head to meet his gaze. "I'm sure it's nothing."

"Is it the flight?"

"I don't know."

After the turbulence the rest of the flight went smoothly, you managed to doze most of it. Your head was lightly resting against his shoulder. You were jolted awake as the plane touched down, slowly opening up your eyes looking around. Sun spilling in through the window to your right, Chris had dozed as well his head rested on the top of yours. You smiled to yourself before sitting up.

Chris groaned as his eyes started to open, he sat up fully and stretched. He looked at you giving you a sleepy smile before standing, both of you exited the plane quietly. Unlike the last time there were no cameras present but you still didn’t let your guard drop till after you had picked up your luggage and were in the car set out for your hotel room.

~~~

The two of you had separate but connecting rooms like the last time. You had dropped your bag on the floor and looked out over the city from your window. It was breathtaking, the old cathedral style buildings mixing with the newer additions. You smiled to yourself watching the sky turn orange, between flying and traveling to the hotel it was already evening.

Chris opened the door that joined your rooms together, his eyes landing on you. When he had asked if you would join him for a spur of the moment charity function you flat out asked him if he was crazy. But the man was stubborn as a mule, so while enroute to the hotel the two of you stopped by some place that sold dresses.

You wore something simple yet elegant, the sleek black gown had a navy sheer overlay, and it was held by one strap over your left shoulder. You had quickly done your hair in a loose upsweep, allowing small traces to fall framing your face that held minimal natural style make up. You sighed to yourself a knot growing in the pit of your stomach. Chris walked up behind you wrapping his massive arms around you, you leaned your head back against his shoulder.

“Ready, beautiful?” He murmured in your ear before gently pressing a kiss to the outter shell.

You nodded, slowly turning to face him, where he gotten the tux you weren’t sure cause you certainly didn’t remember him packing it. Then again he probably had countless people to do his running around. He grasped your hand leading you out of the room, you heels clicking as you went.

You couldn’t help but think about the ramifications this could cause him, being seen coming out of your room. Or how he held your hand walking down the hall to the elevator. The fact the Chris had asked you to join him for this should of been a huge red flag, and you knew you should of polite told him it wouldn’t of been in his best interest. But as you headed to the venue a part of you couldn’t deny the fact that no matter what there would be no telling him no.

You peered over at him, both of you sitting next to one another in the back of a limo. The sky behind the man with softest blue eyes had turned lavender as night continued its approach. His black and white tux was neatly pressed, and looked every bit the movie star he was. And you, you a girl from the middle of no where that just happened to have caught his eye in a diner.

As the car rolled a stop Chris got out before you, helping you out of the car. You smiled at him briefly as the two of you made your way into the extravagant building. Soft swatches of fabric hung from the ceiling connecting to the walls, ivory candles lit perfectly placed tables. Music softly played in the back ground as you watched people mill about. You had never been to something to elegant in your life, and it caused your heart beat just that much faster.

He walked you about introducing you to people you didn’t know, and odds are you would never see again. As the night wore on he left you to yourself to go grab drinks. Toying with your napkin a bit, deep in thought about all the what if’s that plagued you, for what had to have been the millionth time in the last twenty four hours.

“Hello.” You glanced up and your right, your eyes met a pair of deep blues framing by chocolate locks. “You must be y/n, I’m Sebastian.”

“Yes?” You responded slowly as he continued to smirk at you. You quickly glanced around the room hoping Chris was on his way back, but you failed to find him amongst the crowd.

“So Chris has told me all about you.” His smirk turned into a grin as leaned in close to you.

@kitkatkl @octobermermaid @ajosieface @10robins @instantnoodlese @patzammit

@thejemersoninferno @lokissidehoe @runningawaywithloki @beautifulbashfulblackqueen @soymikael @dlb113 @pancake-pages @thiskidinlove @pop-princess08 @marvelmakeuplover @annamegatron @lilypalmer1987 @sebbystanlover-vk @tshollandlove @sincerelytlh @whooolemilk @sebsunshinestan @harleycativy @loki7ms @0dobi0

#chris evans x reader #chris evans #chris evans x you #sugardaddy!chrisevans #chris evans fic #dont

108 notes · View notes

sabbaticallife84 · 3 years

Text

Take me to church

My friend and I decided to not visit Prague on this trip. We went from Switzerland to Italy on the most beautiful train I have ever taken. It’s called the Bernina Express. We decided to make our Milan, Italy and our Bruges pieces of the trip longer. We found out that flying from Milan, to Prague to Bruges was expensive and difficult. We were watching the bills build up with flights, and airbnb’s, etc. So we decided to scrap Prague. Not only did we cancel Ireland and Scotland, but now also Hungary and the Czech Republic. We also canceled or changed or pivoted from countless other ideas we had over the last few weeks of planning.

Now we were in Milan. We had stayed up late last night, enjoying our new party neighborhood. Navigli. But then we got up early to see if we could get in to see the Last Supper by Da Vinci at the Santa Maria Delle Grazie. We went right when they opened their doors for the day to see if we could snag a 15 minute window. The lady at the ticket place told us it was sold out for the whole week. Too bad, we couldn’t do that. We went across the street to Le Grazie cafe. We got delicious pastries and coffee. The waiter ushered us out after we picked our pastries and said “no self serve.”. After a different guy behind the counter told us to grab our own pastries from the case. So, whatever. Then we sat there for awhile, watching the sun creeping up over the Santa Maria Della Grazie. We needed some time to re-organize our day, sans the Last Super.

We had made some alternative plans in case we couldn't make it in. One of them was to go across the street and visit the Vineyard of Leonardo. We went in there and paid our entrance fee and got this cool audio tour of the vineyard. It was like a hidden garden and vineyard in the middle of Milan. We walked around it. The self guided tour gave great detail about the people who had lived here, the wine that was made from the grapes grown here and much more. The lady who had sold us our entrance tickets had told us that one of the rules was we couldn’t walk on the grass. I totally forgot this rule as I strolled through the garden, alone on the grass. Oops! Luckily no one was around to see me. I had totally forgotten. We found out that they had studied and researched which grapes had grown in the vineyard during Da Vinci’s time. They started growing the same grapes, later, in the 1900′s. They had made wine with it. Supposedly this is the same grape and wine that Da Vinci had there in the 1400′s.

12:59: We wanted to see this other church in Milan, that was called the “Milan Sistine chapel”. It was the Saint Maurice al Monstero Maggiore Church. We walked to it and found out we needed to make online reservations to get in and see it and there were no available times that day to see it. So this was our second church we got turned away from. We actually got to see the church, Maria Della Grazie, which was large, beautiful and spell bounding. We did not get to see the Last Supper. I look at is as a sign that I need to go back to Milan someday to see the mural painting. We couldn’t get into the golden church because we were supposed to have booked online and then it was only available on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. We walked around the church instead. I peaked in at different intervals. We then took the metro to the Duomo. We had to hold back from taking like fifty million more pictures of it. We both had to use a bathroom, which was a constant struggle in the countries we had visited so far. We needed the restroom alternative for Europe, like the Starbucks option in Manhattan.

We decided to eat some food up on a balcony looking out at the Duomo church. We were above one of the many museums and it was a breathtaking view of the giant cathedral.

We sat down to eat. I ordered spaghetti with clams. The sweet waiter was very disapproving of me putting parmesan cheese on my seafood pasta dish. My friend got linguini with lobster. Then the wasps came.. One wasp landed on my shells and started chewing, like the foot/anchor place of where the clam was in the shell. The wasp ate for like a minute. Who knew wasps liked seafood? Then, eventually I got up. Our sweet waiter came and took the shells away, at my request. Then I tried to eat the rest of the pasta as quickly as I could. Then two wasps came and hovered around where the shells had been. Then the waiter brought me bug spray. I put it on. This was my second application of bug spray that day, and the one before had been about an hour ago at the vineyard of Leonardo Da Vinci. Unfortunately, the wasps kept coming, even after the bug spray. It was ok, I never got stung. I was just nervous because our server said they were wasps and not bees. I have had multiple wasp stings before and it was not fun.

After we ate our lunch, we drank espresso with cookies for dessert. We received six little cookies. There were three kinds and two of each kind. There was one that was Chocolate with hazelnuts, one greenish pistachio one, and large square one with white almonds. I dipped them in my espresso, and they were delicious. Italy even excelled at making dry little sugar cookies taste delicious!

We went to two other churches that day. One was Santuario di San Bernadine alle Ossa. This church had room, sanitary that was totally covered with human bones. Apparently, they were the bones from people who had died of the plague. This church was right next to a hospital and there had been many dead. I need to do more research on the bone church, because it was astounding. Also I didn’t feel great about a church sanctuary totally adorned with human bones. The weirdness of peoples remains being moved, and used to decorate, somehow bothered me. I have heard of one other church like this, in Prague. I need to definitely look into this more. After we came out of the bone church, I tried to shake the feel of doom, and death. We went into the Basilica Di Santo Stefano right next door. This church was also darker and gloomy. It had an odd feeling to it. I may have just had residual creepiness from the bone church. I have a lot to learn about the church influence and history in Milan and really all of Italy. I have huge holes in my knowledge. But that is what this trip, this sabbatical is about. I am taking it to open my eyes, stir my wonder, and my curiosity about life again.

“I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.” -Eric Roth

0 notes

spytap · 6 years

Text

Italy 2017 - Part 4 of 4: ROME

Man, if Florence took longer than I expected, this is just gratuitously late. Nevertheless, we forge ahead.

Even with the experience of hindsight and time to consider, I worry that I don’t have really anything to say about Rome that isn’t superficial or repetitive. It was, for the most part, just as we expected it to be. That’s certainly not a bad thing, especially when meeting high expectations - but in a trip of such unexpected discoveries and deliciously surprising experiences, it stood out for being the city that was most like we thought it would be.

In my memory, I remember Rome as more closely related to the “real world” I inhabit in my “mostly LA with a fair dose of NYC” existence. Of all the cities we visited in Italy, it felt the least foreign, the most easily understood, and the most comfortable. Whether that’s a good thing is left to the reader to decide.

The irony is that Rome wasn’t on our to-do list until the very end. We’d booked our flights into the country, but were still figuring out how we were going to get back. Barcelona, Geneva, and even Paris were all on the options list, courtesy of Europe’s extensive train system and a rather liberal expectation of how late we could get back to LA on Sunday evening and still be acceptably functional at work Monday morning. But a couple weeks of searching culminated in a chance sale on rather comfortable Rome to Oslo to Los Angeles seats, and we had our final destination locked in.

So because Rome was always booked as “the place to take the flight back home,” our trip headily biased our time towards the other cities we wanted to visit, thus leaving us just two and a half days to spend with the city. Added to this was the simple reality that Rome wasn’t geographically like the other cities we visited. With Milan, Genoa, and Florence, you could walk from one end to the other without too much effort - Rome, on the other hand, is damn near 500 square miles. Putting it in perspective, that’s just barely smaller than the city of Los Angeles, and more than 50% larger than all five for boroughs of New York City combined. It is, to use an old Roman term, “fucking huge.”

Nonetheless, we came into Rome in perhaps the best worst way possible: frantically trying to make our train, and dreading the idea that we’d have to immediately get a bus on the other end and somehow track our progress well enough to get off within walking distance of our apartment. Thanks to Google Maps and T-Mobile’s rather generous outlook on providing international data, our “run, train, bus” triathlon worked out almost perfectly, and by 2pm we had our bags in the apartment and were ready to explore the city.

As per tradition, the first day we got well and truly lost. And by design or accident, within just a few hours we’d wandered past ancient ruins and modern squares, the Pantheon and Trevi Fountain, Spanish steps and whoops-there’s-a-cathedrals. We weren’t really trying to hit all the spots, but everything seemed to lay itself out in front of us, and our feet continued to carry us towards monuments and cultural touchstones in short order. Maybe it was just luck or maybe it was habit at that point - who knows. But within four hours of offloading our bags, we’d hit a half dozen of the biggest to-dos in one of the great ancient cities of the Western world.

Three of my favorites worth highlighting a bit:

If you’re wondering whether it’s worth waiting the fifteen to thirty minutes to enter The Pantheon, seeing the dome and ceiling alone are worth the time. I spent a half hour just marveling at the construction and laughed a bit when I found out that no one actually knows when it was built, or what sections of the structure came when. It seemed more than a little appropriate that, in a city where we often ran across ancient ruins across from markets and archeological digs in the middle of otherwise totally modern neighborhoods, one of the largest historical and tourist spots in the city is in many ways a mystery.

Like moose, Trevi Fountain is so much larger than you think. However large you think it might be, triple it. Every photo or video I have is careful to have at least one person next to the fountain for scale just to show people “Look! Down there! That small dot? That’s a fully grown adult human!” It really was comically large, and the spray coming off of the water helped cool the hot September afternoon down a bit.

Late in the afternoon, we went off to climb the Spanish Steps, and once we’d reached the top, we watched the sun begin to set over the still ten-degrees-too-warm city. As the fifty-third man offered me the “opportunity” to purchase an overpriced rose “for the lady,” we watched tourist and local alike all take a moment to sit down on the steps, wipe their brow, take a breath, look over the teeming life within the piazza, and feel the air start to cool as the night approached. It as if the whole piazza exhaled at once. It was such a simple, beautiful moment.

After having had such luck nailing all the spots we’d had on our to-see list back-to-back-to-back, we ran across a restaurant that Beth had on her “must go if possible” lists. Luckily, having run across it at just after seven, we were slightly before Roman-acceptable dining hour, so we were able to get a table outside on the patio fairly easily. And in return, we had one of the most distinctive meals of our trip.

For a restaurant that seemed to take “Roman Style” as as indication to go well past what you’d expect from Italian food, every single dish was interesting and wonderful. Even the dishes that included foods I don’t generally enjoy (raw tomatoes, for example) were bursting with flavor and complexity. Simple dishes like a grilled artichoke heart were somehow transcendent of their straightforwardness, while a Secondi that we ordered almost entirely because Google Translate told us it literally translated to “Rolled Meat Tubes, Roman Style” and we assumed that had to be a translation error, turned out to be exactly that: veal wrapped around vegetables, simmered in a tomato sauce, where every single flavor was both distinctive and balanced.

As a side note, this was only one of two dinners during our entire trip that didn’t include ordering the house wine - both of which happened in Rome. This first night it happened because the restaurant didn’t have a house wine, only a hundred-plus page book of wine options (thank you Tuscan Wine School for helping us pick a truly excellent twenty euro bottle.) The following night it happened again - this time because when we ordered the house wine, the owner straight up told us, in a very charming Italian accent, “Is no that good tonight. Is eh.” I asked to try it anyway, and when he asked what I thought, I answered in the only way that felt appropriate: an agreeable “Eh” followed by ordering a bottle that was met with nodded approval.

Anyway, that first night, as we discussed the day’s events, we realized that yes, Rome was crowded and busy - and yes, whenever we found ourselves around some of the more well known elements of its storied past there were lots of tourists. But get a hundred feet away and it didn’t actually feel particularly touristy. For the most part the city felt like the locals were going about their business, and the tourists clustered in certain areas.

In short, it felt more than a little like … Los Angeles. Which is weird.

To add to the comparisons, similarly to LA, it wasn’t a city that felt overtly inviting beyond the known tourism spots. To get any sense of what it was like, you had to really search beyond the bit that ended up up on the pamphlets. Again like LA, Rome felt like it had better things to do than to cater to the expectations of tourists.

The next day began the first of two scheduled days of our trip. Because of our limited time in the city, we had a couple things we put on the “must-do” list: one day was dedicated to perusing the Colosseum and nearby Forum, and another day was dedicated to The Vatican and hoping I could high-five the Pope (spoiler alert: it didn’t happen.)

There isn’t anything to say about the Colosseum that hasn’t been said before. It’s easy to stand there for hours, feeling the mass of history almost as if by a localized increase of gravity. I found myself fascinated with the textures - variances that denoted hundred of years of technological and cultural advancements, mere meters apart. Most of my photos, in fact, are just close ups or wide panoramas that highlight the textures of the Colosseum. That said, it was one of the few times I wish we’d have taken a tour - there’s only so much to absorb by walking around on your own and staring at things. The few times I overheard tour groups, the information they were getting seemed like fascinating additions to the experience.

The Vatican was the exact opposite: we had the unique experience of a guided tour of the gardens, coupled with a remarkably colorful history lesson that leaned heavily into the fighting spirit of the Vatican’s storied and tempestuous relationship with Italy. Turns out that even the heads of multi-billion-person religions are sometimes the scrappy underdogs in the retelling of their own tales. The words “faithful” and “exiled” and “oppressive” were used rather liberally as we strolled through the perfectly manicured gardens discussing thousands of years of Catholic history under the Roman sun.

Out of the gardens, we had the rest of the Vatican to wade though - something that I would have absolutely relished had it not been for the apparent flood of other people aiming to do the same.

The one thing I wanted to see above all else was the Sistine Chapel - an hour-long wait that resulted in equal amounts of disappointment for the actual chapel itself and the disrespect of the visiting hordes. Granted, being packed into a small area with hundreds of people who felt too special to follow the repeated “no flash photography please - it damages the chapel” and “please no talking - this is a place of worship” announcements was certainly no way to fully appreciate the artistic elements of the chapel. But if I’m being completely honest, I don’t think I would have had much different of a reaction had I stood alone in the center of the silent building, free to contemplate and examine the chapel in solitary peace. I know the history and its importance. I’ve seen the photos. It…just didn’t do anything for me.

Now Saint Peter’s Basilica stands on the other end of the awe scale. In fact, it ruins the scale entirely, forcing you to hastily make a new scale just to properly convey the applicable amount of awe. Standing in that building feels impossible. The space between the floor and ceiling isn’t communicated properly with words - hell, it’s barely conveyed with photos.

If the intention of Saint Peter’s Basilica was to be the physical manifestation of one religion’s idea of man’s distance from God, then they pretty much nailed it. Because that’s what it felt like to stand in the center and look around.

The detail of the marble carvings was unreal. Or too real - rock conveying sheer silk sliding over bone and muscle and veins. The pillars extended upwards as if into the clouds. The angels above, carved out of solid marble, seemed at the same time far too massive to be supported by the ceiling, and too dainty to need to be attached at all. If they circled the room once per hour on their own power, I wouldn’t have been shocked in the least.

Even after two weeks of increasingly impressive cathedrals - nothing stood even remotely close to Saint Peter’s Basilica. Nothing. I think we spent an hour just walking around - seeing, touching, marveling. I could have spent a lifetime there and not been able to convey the majesty of the space. I’m not a religious person, but it is without question simply breathtaking.

Back within the (Roman) city limits, the downside of devoting so much time to those two locations was that it left us just the evenings and our initial half-day to get acquainted with the rest of the massive city. The bad news is that I don’t think we really got to experience the culture of modern Rome as much as we’d have liked to in retrospect. The good news is that despite the timeframe, the evenings in Rome were nonetheless memorable.

Without going into detail on everything we ate and drank, it ranged from merely excellent to superb. Rome had treasures that ranged from a place near our apartment where the owner himself served us (and forgot to put in my entree order, resulting in a comically exaggerated forehead-slapping apology and a few items on the house), to the best gelato we had in all of Italy, to a nondescript restaurant in what can only be described as “cobblestone Brooklyn” where the room next to us regularly exploded with old Italians half-drunkenly singing old Italian standbys and the main dining room was filled with young locals there for the equivalent of your favorite Aunt’s home cooking.

We enjoyed three hour dinners where we chatted with the couple next to us (an older Mexican couple - he was a general in the Mexican military, and she was a diplomat), and the younger British girls who replaced them after they left. We watched a hundred mopeds and motorcycles all gather together to drink wine on the steps of a church, bought a bottle for a table of strangers we were chatting with, and nearly caused an international incident when we showed up at a restaurant with a bottle we’d brought from Florence.

That final night we walked slowly back to our apartment, hearing the local church clocktowers signaling midnight while knowing that we had to be up early the next morning to catch our flight - but nonetheless taking as much time as we could steal alongside the Tiber as it rippled and slipped south towards the Mediterranean.

Ultimately, I don’t think anything in Rome itself really surprised me - but I also expect that’s on us. My memory is of a major city, Italian style. There was certainly history, but it felt segmented away, and we never got to experience the rest of the city that was culturally distinctive from what we’d seen before. Again, it felt more like Los Angeles than Milan or Florence. But maybe that’s what Rome ultimately was (for us, at least) - an opportunity to end our experience in a liminal space that blended Italy with familiarity as a transition back to home.

As the taxi picked us up the next morning and took us to Rome’s airport, I took my final photos in Italy: the sun illuminating and shining through the long, languid clouds that hung high in the sky. After two weeks away, having seen six areas and cities throughout Northern Italy, and finally seeing the city where my family came from, there were just two flights left to bring us back to our daily lives.

It was, as it always is, too soon. But in a trip filled with surprises, we still had one left: it turns out that if you catch the right flight - say a 6:45pm heading west out of Oslo - the sunset shines purple through the windows nearly the whole flight home.

#Italy #Travel #Four months late I know #long reads #longreads #vacation

3 notes · View notes

keywestlou · 4 years

Text

HOLY THURSDAY.....VENERATION OF THE BLESSED SACRAMENT

Holy Thursday is probably the least emotional of the Holy Week holidays for Christians. In the life of Christ, the Last Supper, washing of the feet, Gethsemane, and finally Jesus’ arrest.

It is celebrated today as a veneration of Christ. Christ in the form of the a Blessed Host.

When I was young, as far back as grammar school, Catholics visited different Catholic Churche on Holy Thursday. The interior of each was dark, except for a small altar off to the side. There stood a gold frame within which was the Holy Eucharist. The symbol of God’s body.

The altar upon which it stood was buried in green and white. Green type shrubs and white flowers. My recollection is distinct regarding this.

I was raised that we were to visit an odd number of Churches. Don’t know why odd in number. Some thought the requirement only 7.

Through high school, it was a competition among young friends. See who could visit the most Churches.

We walked from Church to Church. Some 2 miles apart. Saw friends and neighbors along the way. Streets full with people coming and going.

A combined religious and fun time.

Tomorrow a bad day. The Crucifixion of Christ. Another day, another story.

In my trips to Milan, I always stopped into the Duomo Cathedral. Majestically sitting at one end of the Square. A huge edifice. Magnificent.

On one of the trips, it was exceptionally hot. I was tired. Close to exhaustion. One thing I learned in my travels is that Churches are generally cool.

I went in. Like a refrigerator.

I sat down away from the people traffic next to a large concrete post. Fell asleep! An hour later, someone was tapping me on the shoulder to wake me. One of the attendants: “Sir, you cannot sleep here.”

My first thought was that not even God wanted me that afternoon. I forgot to mention at the beginning of this story that I had fallen down the train station steps when I arrived in Milan. I had a cut on my head where the blood had dried. A cut on my arm also. And my right leg hurt like hell!

The attendant probably thought I was a bum looking for a place to hang out.

Why Duomo Cathedral today? The famous opera singer Andrea Bocelli is singing live at the Duomo Cathedral on Easter Sunday. To an empty Church. One pm eastern standard time. His performance should be available on U.S. television.

Two dear friends are Bob Marks and Al Cotoia. From different eras of my life. Though I know both, they do not know each other.

A few days ago, I was playing with my cell phone. I had been having problems with it. I was home self quarantined and Verizon was closed. I thought I had it working. I could not do my short afternoon podcast without it.

I finally was able to see my face for a few seconds. Up close. Made my face look fat. Additionally, my beard had not been trimmed in more than a month. Bushy. My fault. I trim it. I was too lazy. Who was going to see me?

I even had a half inch of hair on my somewhat bald head.

Bob wrote commenting on the beard. Think he said I looked like Santa Claus. Al wrote and said I looked fat. Al’s comment hurt! The truth always does.

My face was on the screen only 10 seconds. I was testing. I thought I deleted it. Obviously not.

Yesterday I dealt with the problem. Trimmed my beard back to normal. Thin and lovely.

The head hair another problem. I have a beautician who trims it for me. She takes a power razor, puts it on “1” and runs it over my head 1, 2, 3. All done!

I never cut my hair with any tool. I gave it a shot with by electric beard razor. I was terrific! Got it all off!

When I was done with everything, I felt like little Jack Horner. Remember, he was sitting in a corner eating his pumpkin pie, stuck in his thumb, and pulled out a plumb. And said, Oh, what a good boy am I!

I felt like Jack Horner.

My thanks to Bob and Al in motivating me. I look beautiful! And thinner!

Key West is located in Monroe County. The coronavirus numbers continue to rise.

Total, 52 cases. Seven hospitalized. Three have died. The most recent a 31 year old woman. Twenty four of the 52 cases located in Key West

Deaths state wide total 24.

Moses said to Pharaoh, “Let my people go!”

People today say coronavirus should go.

Read a comment by Hemingway concerning Key West in the 1930’s. The years Hemingway lived in Key West. Key West was extremely poor at the time. The depression in its peak.

Hemingway nevertheless loved the life style of Key West. He referred to it as “the St. Tropez of the poor.”

I have written about Mom’s Tea Room several times. A whore house, a house of ill repute.

First run in Key West. Closed down by the authorities. Reopened on Stock Island.

The bordello did a big business on Stock Island. The Navy base was stationed nearby with horny young sailors.

One problem. The Navy did not approve. Morally and health wise. The Navy was constantly harassing the civil authorities to close Mom’s down.

The situation contained a bit of humor. Local authorities never admitted the existence of Mom’s. Nor did the Navy. Finally however the Navy pressure behind the scenes became too much and the locals closed Mom’s down.

The financial crisis attendant to coronavirus affects government jobs, also. Monroe County announced it would be laying off 100 of its 525 employees.

I was born in 1935. We did not have a telephone till sometime during World War II. A dial phone. Four party line. Then a two party line. Then our line!

Prior to dial phones, calls were made through an operator. You called the operator and gave her the number to connect you to.

The Keys were a little late in getting dial phones. Actually, quite late.

The first dial phone in the Keys was installed in 1960 in a home on Sugarloaf Key.

I lived in my Key Haven home 23 years. It sat on open water. Views spectacular.

Sunrise was a special time. On occasion, I would role out of bed early and sit outside. Watch the sun come up. Very quiet that early. No one around, except for 3 dolphins playing 100-2000 feet away from me. Up and down, up and down.

I assumed they were a family. Father, mother and child. The family continued for several years. Then there were only 2. I assumed the child had taken off on his own. Could never be sure, however.

The remaining 2 continued their playful time at sunrise for years thereafter.

Those few moments in the morning were reminiscent of God’s in His Heaven, all’s right with the world.

I conclude with some “kind” thoughts re Trump. Actually not mine. Those of the New York Times columnist Frank Bruni. Though I agree with everything he wrote.

Bruni’s words/thoughts from his opinion column yesterday.

“He’s a man whose soul went missing.”

Trump does not tell the truth, is petty, mean, has a martyr complex, and passes the buck.

“He’s ill equipped for this moment.”

“This prophet just demands an even greater magnitude of worship. And he grows all the more furious when he doesn’t get it.”

Day 30 for me of self-quarantine. I’m doing well. If I did’t research and write, I might not.

How a quarantined person lives. One phase. Groceries.

I have them delivered from Publix. Just arrived. I had to leave to clean the groceries and store them. I wash everything (and I mean everything) with a disinfectant. Then store. Most in freezer.

Wearing plastic gloves, of course.

Process takes a while. I am tired at the moment.

Still alive though.

I figure another 30 days to go. I’ll make it.

My friend Theo Markis called from Greece a few minutes ago while I was working on the blog. A good man. We met last year when he was visiting Key West.

Reads the blog every day. Love him! He was to have visited Key West 2 months ago again. Obviously could not. Greece has the coronavirus problem also. Not the big deal as here. Only 50-70 died so far. However, as with the U.S., no one working.

Enjoy your day!

HOLY THURSDAY…..VENERATION OF THE BLESSED SACRAMENT was originally published on Key West Lou

0 notes

rschloesser · 4 years

Text

Blog 20 - Jan 22

My favorite structure was La Sagrada Familia in Barcelona. While climbing the unfinished structure wasn’t as impressive as other structures I climbed on the trip (i.e. Florence Duomo, Pont du Gard, Milan Duomo, etc.) I still enjoyed other parts of the basilica. I loved Gaudi’s style; his designs remind me of nature and his use of vivid colors is beautiful to me. The columns that support the structure look like tall tree trunks and the doors on the facade are covered in vines and leaves, as well as the facade providing images of the mountains and the sea. The emphasis on nature and connecting that to god is a nice change in design, especially for churches. The mosaics in the basilica, especially during golden hour, painted the inside of the structure with gorgeous colors. I think the stained glass windows in the basilica were the most outstanding ones I had seen on the trip, outdoing any other windows we had seen from the many churches I had visited on the trip.

My favorite country was Spain, but this answer may be a little biased. I liked Spain because I (sorta) understood the language and I had a very good understanding of their modern history and the impact the 20th century had on modern Spain. While I did have an understanding of Italy and France’s history, from romans to revolutions, Spain’s modern identity is a direct reaction to a Fascist regime from less than 100 years ago and we can see that they are recovering from that first hand with their pride for Picasso’s Guernica. I also just liked every city we visited in Spain, and Italy and France didn’t have that track record with me.

My favorite city was either Madrid or Seville, and I liked them for different reasons. I liked Madrid because there was an emphasis on environmentally-conscious urban planning, and the people there felt like Spaniards (rather than Barcelona where the identity was very Catalonian,) which made it easier for me to understand their Spanish accent. I also liked Madrid because it felt very western compared to other cities we had visited, due to it’s wide streets and public transportation (a stark contrast to Rome, Siena, Marseille, etc.) As for Seville, I liked it for it’s more laid-back atmosphere compared to big cities like Madrid, Barcelona, Paris, and Milan. Seville was beautiful because of its many architectural aesthetics, from gothic (the Gothic Cathedral) to islamic influences (Real Alcazar). I also thought the orange trees in the squares and lining the rivers were charming, and the ceramic tilings (and the history of it in the city) were beautiful characteristics that are tied to the identity of the southern city.

Goal 1 - My Spanish started coming back to me when we got to Barcelona, and by the time we left Seville I felt pretty comfortable building sentences in my head. Something I noticed is that while my vocabulary was coming back, my grammar and conjugations were difficult to get right. I’m not surprised though, it has been seven years since I consistently practiced my Spanish. I did notice that when I tried to speak Spanish in Barcelona, many locals wouldn’t really give me a chance to try and would prefer to speak with me in English, which made it difficult to me to want to try speaking Spanish. But, by the time we got to Madrid and Seville, people were more patient with me when I tried to speak Spanish. I think the most useful aspect of knowing Spanish while I was in Spain, was the fact that I could read menus in Spanish, but that often meant I ended up translating an entire tapas menu for Thomas (and tapas menus are long.)

Goal 2 - Trying local food in Italy was relatively easy for me because I love pasta. Some of the best kinds of pasta I’ve ever had were in Rome and Milan. I think that’s because the noodles are hand made and don’t have as many preservatives as the noodles we have in the United States. I thought it was cool that there are different styles of bread depending on the region we were in Europe (i.e., Siena style bread didn’t have any salt and bread in France was more doughy.) I was also fascinated to learn that most olives come from Seville and southern Spain, not Italy and that olives (and olive oil) are essentially the backbone of Seville’s economy. That being said, I never understood why those regions have the types of food that they do (with the exception of Seville), so that part of my goal wasn’t accomplished.

Goal 3 - I didn’t have the time to write any formal essays, but during our transit periods (i.e. bus rides, trains, and planes) I did manage to write some notes or thoughts that came to mind while traveling. Maybe those notes will turn into an essay later, who knows? So this goal was half-accomplished.

Goal 4 - I got to see some pretty fantastic artworks in my time in Europe. I was overjoyed to be able to visit the Sofia Reina Museum and see Guernica in person. After learning about the Spanish Civil War in high school and seeing pictures of Guernica in textbooks, I was excited to have the opportunity to see it in Madrid. I also was happy to see works by Donatello in Florence, but I didn’t enjoy it as much as seeing Picasso’s or Dali’s paintings in Madrid or Matisse’s artwork in Vence (classical art, while beautiful, isn’t my favorite art). I did also manage to see some fantastic modern art at the Maeght Foundation and the CaixaForum, and I ended up enjoying the Maeght’s exhibition featuring Ra’anan Levy’s oil paintings and charcoal studies, more than the exhibition in the CaixaForum. Even after the trip had ended, I got the opportunity to visit the Louve, and I probably wouldn’t have seen any of the artworks (i.e. Mona Lisa, the Last Supper, Liberty Leading the People, the Coronation of Napoleon, Venus de Milo, etc.) if I didn’t go on the Great Structures trip. So I’d say that I accomplished my goal.

Goal 5 - I managed to get ramen twice on the trip, once in Rome and once in Barcelona. It was really good! My biggest regret is that I didn’t manage to get ramen in Paris, but that’s ok. What I took away from the experience is that unlike Japan and the US, ramen shops in Europe like to cook with chicken instead of pork. That's a pretty big difference considering that that most popular type of ramen is tonkatsu, which is a pork broth soup. It was easier to find a good miso (soybean broth) or shoyu (soy broth) ramen than tonkatsu ramen because there were more chicken options than pork in the shops that I visited.

0 notes

bigyack-com · 4 years

Text

Venetian Islands Revamp Traditions to Counter Depopulation

by Colleen Barry from The Associated Press, January 28, 2020 VENICE, Italy (AP) — The Venetian island of Burano’s charms are rooted in its fishing legacy: the colorful fishermen's cottages, the traditional butter cookies that kept fishermen going at sea and the delicate lace hand-stitched by their women. But as the island’s population dwindles, like that of Venice itself a 40-minute boat ride away, so do the numbers of skilled artisans who keep the traditions and economy alive. To counter the trend, Venezia Nativa, an association of entrepreneurs on Burano and two neighboring islands, is trying to breathe fresh life into old trades to attract new residents and persuade young islanders to stay. Domenico Rossi, 49, is a crab fisherman, like his ancestors back to the glory days of the Venetian Republic. But that way of life is dying. When Rossi was a boy, about 100 fishermen plied the northern Venetian lagoon for soft-shell crabs. Now, he's the youngest of the 20 still operating, and he figures in a couple of decades there will be none left. "Once we disappear, Venice disappears,’’ the Burano native said. Still, he has forbidden his 18-year-old son to take up the trade, seeking to protect him from long hours, uncertain profits and the threat of tightening fishing regulations. His son is training to be a chef. And Rossi is transforming his own work into a tourist attraction, bringing small groups on boat tours in the off-season. Venice has long sounded the alarm about being reduced to a living museum, as tourism mushrooms and population levels shrink, threatening the city's viability. Permanent residents in the historic center — which includes St. Mark's Square and the Grand Canal — have sunk to 53,000, down by a third in one generation. About 1,000 people leave each year for cheaper, easier living in the city's mainland districts. With them, the social fabric of the city wears, the number of neighborhood stores offering staples dwindles — as do public services. On Burano and its two neighboring islands of Mazzorbo and Torcello, the impact of depopulation is even more evident. Residents currently number 2,700, dropping by 60 a year. Just 40 years ago, there were two elementary schools with about 120 children in each grade. Each now has no more than a dozen. About 30 island business owners are trying to secure the northern lagoon's future by relaunching local trades and encouraging sustainable tourism. Whereas Venice suffers under the pressure of some 30 million visitors a year, only about 1.5 million of those continue on to Burano. ‘’We want these three islands in the northern lagoon to become a tourist destination apart from Venice,'' said association vice president Roberto Pugliese. That means offering activities like fishing or boating and promoting the allure of the quiet lagoon life, beyond the existing tourist draws of lace shops, Instagrammable backdrops of brightly colored fishing cottages and the quiet Byzantine cathedral on Torcello. Across a footbridge from Burano, on the neighboring island of Mazzorbo, a winemaker from the prosecco region north of Venice has relaunched a long-dormant vineyard, Venissa, opening a Michelin-starred restaurant and hotel along with it. A decade on, most of its 30 employees live on the islands. Makers of the traditional Burano lace also are looking to revitalize their sector, mostly by moving from traditional decorative uses such as tablecloths or wall hangings into creating works of art or fashion. At dalla Lidia, a Burano lace shop, Japanese textile maker Yuka Miyagishima is spending three months to learn the craft practiced today by no more than 100 women, most of them elderly. It's painstaking work, using a thread and needle to create intricate stitches and knots on paper that is later torn away. Pugliese said it would be ideal for her to remain on the island and work -- but Miyagishima says she intends to return home and practice the tradition there. Getting outsiders to move to Burano is complicated not only by the convenience factor, but also by its peculiar housing stock. About 80% of the island’s housing is picturesque fishing cottages. They're adored by tourists for their colorful facades — but less so by residents long restricted by preservation laws on how they can renovate the two-story structures, each level just 20 square meters (215 square feet). In a sign of the times, many are for sale. Officials have recently given tentative approval to changes that will make it easier, for example, to combine adjoining houses into a single abode. Pugliese is also hoping that Venice will allow hotels to operate with rooms dispersed throughout the island. At the moment there are fewer than 20 hotel rooms on the island, limiting overnight stays. It's just as complicated to get Burano’s young people to stay on the island. Federica Molin and her husband run a bakery that makes the famed bussolai cookies, traditionally shaped in big O’s so fishermen could hang them on their mast and nibble away during long turns at sea. Their eldest child lives in Milan, studying to be a veterinarian, and is unlikely to resettle on the island any time soon. Molin is happy for her but hopes she'll come back some day. ‘’When I hear about young couples that come back ... I get excited,’’ Molin said. ‘’Then when we see blue or pink ribbons around Burano announcing a birth, it gives the sensation that yes, we can repopulate the island!’' This article was written by COLLEEN BARRY from The Associated Press and was legally licensed through the NewsCred publisher network. Please direct all licensing questions to .

Bring Home a Bit of Venetian History Eolo: Bespoke Venice Cruising Hidden Venice: Isola Santa Cristina Venice Hotels Counting the Cost of November's Floods Read the full article

0 notes

silverhands-etcetera · 5 years

Text

We Must Travel, Travel On.

The windows were lit up with sunshine when I opened my eyes. Aimee was handing me a bottle of water, saying “it’s 12:30”. The rest of the band was in the kitchen, the first round of coffee was in progress. The greenroom above Sonic Ballroom has a pretty decent kitchen, and we set to work making some breakfast & trying to get out of the hair of the cleaning lady, who was busy clearing empty bottles & pizza boxes that the opening band had left piled on the coffee table.

Eggs, potatoes, coffee. Load the van & get ourselves down the road. The first part of the week would be travel days, getting us south to Italy, so we can turn around & head back north for a string of dates that takes us through next weekend.

I’ve spent a lot of time on both sides of France, but had never set foot inside her borders. There was a bit of intention to this for awhile, there’s no denying that. Being Spanish, adopting the attitudes that I’d been instructed to have towards the French. France is an easy target for disdain, I think. My affinity towards certain brands of British humor only reinforced this. I’m working hard on regionalistic pride-based identity issues -all of the Iowa native, Cascadia, Andaluz, etc. identifiers are great as far acknowledging that you enjoy certain things about the culture of a place. But when they start to hedge towards the greatness of one or exclusion of another, that’s where the usefulness of an identifier like this really stops for me.

-Not to get all up on a soap box. I’m only saying this because we went to France, and it was pretty cool. I didn’t understand a lick of what anybody said, but we had a good time. We rolled into a little village outside of Strasbourg, to a little airbnb right up on the canal. It was sunday evening, so everything was closed. No bars, no restaurants, no grocery. We all sat tapping on pins on our maps, looking for any place that would sell some food to a band of weary travelers on a Sunday. We finally found a halal butcher & grocery that was just a short walk down the canal. We picked up some pasta and a green salad (the leftovers of which were mixed together & put into a ziplock bag, and it lived under the back seat of the van for most of the next week). The next morning we found a bakery, where Sherri & Aimee did all the talking while Michael & I basically grunted & pointed at the delicacies we wanted. We took a short trip into Strasbourg proper and walked to the cathedral square and took in some of the sights. About 18 hours in France, leaving with no souvenirs, only dropping money on food & beer. And down the road we go.

We passed through Switzerland without any scrutiny from the border crossings, going out of the EU, and back in again as we came to Italy. Our next gig was in Inzago, close to Milan. Passing so close to Lake Como and not stopping would be pretty ridiculous, so it was decided long ago that we would be staying here for the night.

There’s a town of reasonable size on the way in, with a supermarket & all types of conveniences -where we did not stop. We drove through the mountain & came out on the other side of the tunnel to see a beautiful little range of mountains wrapped around a shining lake, and our road was skirting the whole place as it descended slowly towards the water’s edge.

The road got smaller, and the little villages got tighter & more ancient looking. Thinking back on the previous evenings, we keep an eye out for any little store or market where we could stock up to fend off starvation for another evening. We stopped at the first promising looking place, but there was no open door behind the sign. I asked the only person stirring in the street if there was any market nearby, and she replied that the only supermarket in the area was the one we passed on the other side of the tunnel. We managed a brief but useful conversation with Spanish coming from my direction & Italian coming back to me from hers. Every modern conversation seems to devolve into looking at maps or pictures on each other’s phones, but she did a great job of giving me a good idea of where we were and what our options would be. We weren’t going back through the mountain, I was thankful to know what our fate was and enjoyed making a bilingual exchange work out with her. Looks like we’re stuck having to eat supper at an Italian resort town restaurant. Everybody’s got problems…

I ordered a pizza. Anchovies, olives capers. No red sauce. Pretty awesome. We were down close to the water in Argegno, but our lodging for the night was on top of the mountain in Schignano. There’s not a bad view to be had facing in any direction, and the winding switchbacks going up the hill would have us facing every which way before we got to the top. One last hairpin and then another to get in the driveway and meet the airbnb host, Angelo, who showed us all around the place, and then asked for our passports, which he expected to take with him down the street to make copies.

right. this did not go over with Del Vox, to say the least. Angelo is a sweet and charming man, but he speaks absolutely no English, and while we were quick to understand that Italian law asks him for this information about his tenants, the language barrier was still too great for him to understand any of the solutions we offered. Spanish was no help. He called his wife several times, who had passable english skills, and handed the phone to Aimee. This happened at least 4 times, but still we were at an impasse. The only solution he had was to take our passports and go off somewhere unknown to us. This went on for maybe ten minutes before he agreed to take pictures of our passports & email them to his wife. But first he had to call her & ask what her email address was. And we had to take the pictures on one of our phones and mail them, not on his -which I think explained his relationship with technology & shed a little light on his anxieties. He carries an iphone 10, and it’s possible he doesn't know how to email from it, or perhaps how to attach a photo. I’ll give him a pass for this.

We noticed a bar just across the street as we were getting to the house, and once we were settled in Michael got the idea to go check the place out, just to get an idea what we were dealing with. In short order he returned with a full report -there were between 6-18 men all intently watching a football game on television, and aside from the barmaid, it was ONLY men in the joint, all very comfortable in their space, and potentially unaccustomed to strangers. But they did have whiskey.

This obviously sounded like a perfect adventure to me & Aimee. We were shoed & jacketed in moments, and across the road we went. In through the door and the scene is exactly how Michael had spelled it out. Television hollering, and all eyes forward to it -until we step in, then every dude pauses his attention on the game to scrutinize these two strangers who walk in just a few minutes after the other stranger came down to check if they had any whiskey.

All the Italian dudes zone back in on their football game & the barmaid meets us at the bar, with a bottle of Jack & a random blended scotch already in hand. We get two scotches with rocks & take seats at the bar while she goes outside for a smoke. When she gets back in I guess she realizes we’re not complete hooligans and she is curious enough to be coaxed over to where we are sitting.

I speak my rough Spanish to her & she answers slowly in mostly Italian, opening up a bit as we go. Her name is Pina, she is from here -from RIGHT here in Schignano, she was born here. She has a beautiful broad face, missing most of her front bottom teeth, which you don’t notice until you get her smiling, which was done when Aimee noticed & complimented the double-strand of pearls she was wearing. She asks us if we’re staying at Angelo’s, and we let her know that yes, we are. She asks how long we’ll be there and we tell her just for that night, which she says is a shame because they’ve got a young woman from Argentina working there that we could speak Spanish to, but they’ll be closed tomorrow in the morning. Pina even pulls out a few lines of clear Spanish herself in relating all this to us.

She tells us that all the patrons are watching the Italian championship game, and clues us into who the home crowd is rooting for. As we are finishing our drinks the game wraps up and all the men leave rather unexcitedly. -Quite the opposite of what the expected stereotype of 6-18 Italian dudes watching their team win the championship is going to act like. It’s just us & Pina in the bar now, and while Aimee & I are both totally smitten with her company, we’re also the only thing keeping her from closing up & going home, So we ask if it’s possible to get another round, and maybe if we can take them with us.

“of course, of course! Angelo will bring the glasses back to me” We get our glasses refilled, order another whiskey for Michael & a Fernet for Sherri. Pina puts them all on a big orange server tray for us & home we go.

So lucky to be here in this beautiful place at this time with these people.

0 notes

adapted-batteries · 7 years

Text

Let’s Take A Selfie

Fandom: The Librarians

Rating: General/sfw

Relationship: Casekiel

Word Count: 2732

When Ezekiel hears Cassandra say she hasn’t had her picture taken for anything but school photos and her driver’s license, his heart breaks. He may not be able to change her childhood, but he is determined to make her future much more picture filled.

Starts post “And the Image of an Image” and goes to post “And the Eternal Question.”

Also posted to my Ao3.

-----

“You know I think I’ve only had my picture taken like…fourteen times...um, yearbooks, driver’s license, mathete honors society...”

The whole mission was weird, considering they were against someone Ezekiel thought was just a fictional character until Jenkins said otherwise. He hated seeing Cassandra be the bearer of Dorian’s actions especially, but something else stuck with him after they got back to the Annex.

It was one thing having your face everywhere thanks to traffic cams and such, but to know that Cassandra didn’t really have pictures outside of school pulled at his heartstrings. He himself wasn’t camera shy at all, considering he was Ezekiel Jones, professor of awesome, and that required photographic evidence (see ollie impossible off the Great Sphinx of Giza).

What hurt worse was that he knew her parents didn’t do anything family like, no pictures of two year old Cassandra with icing all over her face and hands, no picture of five year old Cassandra ready to tackle kindergarten, no vacation photos on the beach or at a theme park, no Christmas home movies full of tearing open gifts and excited shrieking. All the things he had in his head as an ideal childhood, or at least a normal one, and she hadn’t had any (though now he thought of it, probably none of them had that, maybe Flynn or Eve did, but he didn’t really know much about their families). Why he wanted to make Cassandra feel better, he didn’t know, but he was determined to change that number for her as much as he could.

The next mission they went out on, Ezekiel surveyed their surroundings for an ideal selfie. Fortunately for him, they ended up in Milan, specifically right in front of Duomo di Milano. Stone was busy lecturing/nerding out to a flock of elderly tourists, Ezekiel was straining not to pickpocket any of them, Eve was watching the whole ordeal all like a mom who just took her kids to a busy playground, and Cassandra was taking in the massive cathedral in awe. When he looked over at her, he saw his chance.

“Hey Cassandra, let’s take a selfie,” he said casually, sliding up next to her with his back to the cathedral, camera app already open.

She looked over at him, mildly confused. “What?”

“Selfie. Turn around so I can take it,” he instructed. She still seemed confused about the whole thing, but obliged him with a smile in the picture.

“What was that for?” she asked after he lowered his arm.

“I like to document where I go. It’s been awhile since I’ve been here,” he answered, hoping she didn’t press any further.

Fortunately Eve decided to round them up. “Alright guys, we need to actually get in the cathedral, not stand outside.”

He didn’t get to take any more pictures with her until after they finished the mission. Turns out catacombs are not the most ideal photography spots, especially when you’re running through them. Dust and cobweb covered, they had just pulled themselves up through a hidden tunnel that happened to empty right in the middle of the cathedral. Eve and Stone had occupied the priests and security that came running at them, leaving Ezekiel to see Cassandra perfectly framed by a sunbeam coming through a window. He didn’t consider himself one of those “aesthetic photographers,” but the scene had him reaching for his phone before he could think about it. He hurriedly took out his phone and snapped a couple shots just before she shook her head and went about dislodging the cobwebs that had been glowing in the light like a halo.

For those few seconds, Ezekiel could only describe her as angelic, a title mostly unrelated to his thought of Eve as a guardian angel, considering that was a very different theme altogether (much less soft and glowy and much more deadly).

Five minutes and a call to Jenkins later, they were back in the Annex, alive and mostly well save for Stone who just had to slip on some bones and slam into the wall, who was doing his best to not put pressure on his left leg.

Apparently while he was being all heroic, he didn’t take any pictures (not that DARPA was very photogenic anyway), but he got plenty on their next excursion to the Nicaraguan rain forest. Cassandra had invested in cute but practical hiking attire, almost but not quite matching Eve’s outfit.

Stone caught him taking a picture of her inspecting some symbols carved into a huge stone (he was hoping to get some “hard at work” shots). Ezekiel panicked, stumbling backwards on a root. He felt his face heat up when Stone arched an eyebrow, glanced at Cassandra still busy with the carvings, then looked back at him, this time raising both eyebrows in a suggestive manner. He was about to somehow communicate that he wasn’t taking pictures of her because he liked her (because he definitely wasn’t doing it for that...right?), but Cassandra called for Stone’s analysis, thereby ending the conversation.

By now he had a fair few pictures, and an idea of how he wanted to give them to her. He upgraded his phone, this time for the best camera on the market, so he could make it the best he could while still being discreet (a thousand dollar dslr camera isn’t exactly discreet).

Apparently secret agent Ezekiel Jones had a load of pictures, not only with Cassandra, but with Professor Stone and Sheriff Baird as well. The whole thing revolving around Sicily left the memories super fuzzy, but regardless the evidence of their friendship was on his phone. They were all...happy...not that they weren’t happy as Librarians, but this was different. No looming threat of the apocalypse, no bad childhoods, no life-threatening tumors. For a while, part of him wish they hadn’t left, but something told him that Cassandra wouldn’t want that, wouldn’t want them to fail to stop Prospero, wouldn’t want to live an illusion, no matter how real it seemed.

Dealing with Prospero, though, didn’t really provide any photo opportunities (though he found himself wondering if he could convince Cassandra to do a photo shoot in the garden somehow). By the time Eve and Flynn returned to the present, Eve had them right back to work. It wasn’t long before the clippings book flapped its pages and off they went after yet another artifact.

Even well into the mess with Apep, Ezekiel had managed to collect some two hundred photos of Cassandra either by herself or with others (both aware and not aware of the pictures being taken). For awhile, Ezekiel was set on continuing to add to that amount and eventually assemble them all into a scrapbook once they sorted Apep. He planned on giving it to her as a birthday present or for Christmas, depending on when that happened, but seeing Cassandra in the hospital bed, alive but shaken, through that idea out the window.

As soon as he stepped foot through the backdoor, he was off to the nearest drugstore with a photo printing service, and then off to the nearest craft store. It took him awhile to find what he was wanting: a scrapbook big enough to be fairly full but still have a lot of pages left. A blessing in the form of one of the store’s employees showed him a scrapbook built sort of like a binder but much nicer looking, complete with the ability to add as many pages as he wanted by snapping open the rings. After hastily grabbing some decorations (mainly fun 3D stickers, glitter pens, colorful accent paper, and a pack of glue sticks), Ezekiel picked up all 224 pictures and returned to the Annex as quickly as he could.

It was late, well past the time any of the Librarians stuck around to do their own work/interests, so he cleared the main table and unloaded his wares to get to work. He didn’t even think about Jenkins still being there until he was on to the sixth page.

“Mr. Jones?” Jenkins said, clearing his throat. Ezekiel jumped a bit on the stool he had pulled over.

“Yo Jenkins...what’s up?” Ezekiel replied, not sure why he was all the sudden feeling embarrassed.

“You do realize it’s almost one in the morning,” Jenkins insinuated as he walked over to see what Ezekiel was doing.

“Oh. I can go, if you want-” Ezekiel started, but Jenkins cut him off once he got a good look at the scrapbook.

“No, it’s alright, I just wanted to make sure you were aware of the hour,” Jenkins said. “This is…” Now Ezekiel took his turn to cut Jenkins off.

“Kind of creepy, I know, but-” Ezekiel didn’t get to dig himself into that hole. Jenkins put hand on his shoulder, getting Ezekiel to look up at him.

“No, it’s very thoughtful of you to make this for her,” Jenkins finished, looking at Ezekiel almost like a proud parent. “She is going to love it, I can guarantee it.”

Ezekiel looked away towards the backdoor, contemplating his question, but decided on going for it. “Would you like to help me make this? I want to get it to her tomorrow...well today, but I’ve got a load of pictures to go through.”

“I would be honored,” Jenkins answered, complete with a slight bow. “I’ll go make us some tea.”

“Thanks, Jenkins,” Ezekiel said as the immortal knight strode off to the kitchen.

Five hours and several cups of tea later, Jenkins and Ezekiel put the finishing touches on the last page with pictures. He felt a little bad for not having many pictures of Jenkins in there, but at least he had a few. Plus, he knew that telling her Jenkins helped him make the scrapbook would make her day even more.

Somehow Jenkins didn’t look tired at all. Ezekiel, on the other hand, looked pretty bleary eyed.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep before you go?” Jenkins asked him.

“It’s already past eight over there, she should be up, right?” Ezekiel said, testing the glued bits on the last page to make sure they were dry.

“You could call the hospital before you leave, just to make sure,” Jenkins suggested, purposely ignoring the smeared glittery purple ink on the side of Ezekiel’s face, and the sticker stuck to the sleeve of his shirt.

“Eh, I don’t mind waiting if she’s not, I’ll just go now,” Ezekiel decided, striding towards the backdoor.

“As you wish,” Jenkins said, dialing up the hospital. Within a few seconds the familiar glow of magic seeped around the door’s edges. “Call when you’re ready to come back.”

“Will do,” Ezekiel said, then strode through the portal, scrapbook in hand.

The backdoor opened in the same place as yesterday, just next to the reception desk. He thought about sneaking into her room, but he didn’t want to risk disturbing her or having to deal with nurses and doctors doing tests, so he walked up to the nurse at the reception desk.

“Excuse me, is Cassandra awake?” Ezekiel asked.

The man looked up from his computer screen. “Cassandra….”

“Cassandra Cillian,” Ezekiel added.

The nurse typed a bit. “She should be, the nurse just checked on her ten minutes ago. Do you want me to tell her you’re here?” he asked.

“No, uh, it’s a surprise,” Ezekiel stammered, motioning with the scrapbook in his hands.

The nurse gave him a knowing look. “Oh, okay. She’s in 623, down the hall right behind you,” he said.

“Thanks.” Ezekiel tried to walk casually, not wanting to give in to his urge to sprint down the hall.

Sure enough Cassandra was awake, watching something on the tv mounted on the wall across from her bed. He knocked on the door, carefully keeping the book behind his back. She waved him in as enthusiastically as she could post-surgery.

“Ezekiel! What are you doing here? And why do you have sparkles on your face?” Cassandra asked, sitting up a little in her bed.

“I have something for you, to keep you company while you’re here,” he started, pulling the scrapbook out from behind himself. “When we were in Club Effigy, you said you had barely had your picture taken, especially for anything involving good memories, so I...I wanted to change that.” He handed her the book, internally kicking himself for feeling nervous about her not liking it.

She started flipping through the pages, trying to both smile and open her mouth in surprise at the same time. “Oh my god, Ezekiel, this is...you made this for me?” she said, beaming like she was the sun.

“Heh, yeah, and Jenkins helped me put it together too,” Ezekiel added. Now he noticed the tears slowly falling down her face.

“I’ve...never had this, anything like this, ever. I wanted it so bad when I was a kid, but we never went on vacations or anything, so no pictures. This, it means so much to me Ezekiel,” she said, trying to keep her voice level.

He blamed it on being tired, but suddenly his vision got blurry in the way tears do. “I’m,” he paused, clearing his throat when he felt the sudden lump in it, “I’m glad you like it.”

“Are you, crying?” she said with a sniff.

“What? No,” he swiped at his eyes futility, “Ezekiel Jones doesn’t cry.” It would’ve been mildly convincing if his voice hadn’t cracked when he said “cry.”

“Oh, give up the tough guy act and come here,” Cassandra demanded, holding her arms out. Ezekiel did as she asked (only because she asked...sure), sitting on the edge of the bed so he could do most of the leaning into the hug and she could relax. They stayed like that for awhile.

“I...I thought we were going to lose you,” he whispered like he still couldn’t believe he thought that.

She hugged him back tighter. “Well I didn’t want to leave you guys either, and look what that determination did,” she chuckled softly, releasing her grip on him. He sat back up, not bothering to hide as he wiped off his face. She shuffled over in her bed, giving him more room. “Can I get a director’s commentary as I look through the book?”

Ezekiel smiled at her. “Ezekiel Jones, master photographer, at your service,” he said. He eyed the spot she made for him warily, but she patted it again to make her point, so he obliged, squishing in next to her as gently as he could. She opened it to the first page, featuring his still-favorite picture from the cathedral. “So for this first one, I was going for that fun, youthful vibe with the selfie. And for this one, once we got out of the catacombs God himself blessed me with perfect lighting and angle…”

He went on like that for awhile until Cassandra noticed his words slurring a bit. Of course she noticed the glitter on his face, the sticker on his arm, the dark circles under his eyes, which made the scrapbook even more special to her, but she knew they all had been up while she was in surgery, and he hadn’t slept since, she guessed. Just when she decided to tell him to go home and sleep, he stopped mumbling through his process, and his head lolled onto the pillow and her shoulder. She felt herself getting tired as well and decided they could have a little nap at least.

That nap went on for about an hour or so, until Flynn and Eve came to visit.

“Jones?” Eve’s voice startled him awake.

“Woah, did you make this?” Flynn was on Cassandra’s side, looking at the scrapbook still open on their laps. Cassandra was waking up now, smiling at Eve and Flynn.

“I...uh, yeah, and Jenkins helped,” Ezekiel mumbled around a yawn. For some reason he didn’t feel that embarrassed that he’d fallen asleep. He felt a hand on his shoulder. Eve looked at him like Jenkins had, except a lot less restrained.

He stayed for a while longer, going through the rest of the book with everyone, before Eve practically commanded him to go home and sleep, which he obeyed with a smile on his face and and a content heart.

-----

Post Notes: Apparently I like to write Ezekiel really soft in my fics, full of emotions and much better at getting them out than he does in the show, though I’m not sure what emotions exactly I’m making him feel. I wasn’t really going for full on romantic relationship as Castrella still exists in my head for this fic’s universe, but he sure does care for her immensely and wants to make her happy.

#casekiel week #cassandra cillian #eve baird #ezekiel jones #flynn writes #jacob stone #jenkins #librariansshipathon #shipathon17 #the librarians #the librarians fic #the librarians shipathon #casekiel

10 notes · View notes