There were many such archaeological highlights throughout our tour of Greece. The first was actually the Acropolis in Athens, where the Parthenon stands proudly atop the highest hill in the city, and is visible from almost anywhere in Athens. Our hotel was within easy walking distance, so we made several visits to the area, awe-struck every time. Our guided tour took us through the partially reconstructed Parthenon, (a project still in progress, meaning the building was obscured by scaffolding) and around the remainder of the site. The views of Athens were stunning from the top, although none of the hills in Athens are particularly lofty. I had a lot of fun taking photographs of the ruins, looking for light/dark contrasts etc. Athens is a city of contrasts; the majority of the city is modern, with incredibly ancient relics scattered throughout. Building the Metro system took years longer than it should because of constant archaeological finds.
Another highlight was the ancient city of Delphi; the ancient ruin was perched atop a steep hillside, surrounded by hills and valleys. The setting was lovely & one could easily see what prompted the ancients to build there. The original city had been destroyed in an earthquake, so new Delphi was rebuilt a mile or so away on another hillside; also set in a very scenic position, with distant sea views.
Some archaeological sites are reconstructed (to a greater or lesser degree) and some are not. Delphi was only moderately reconstructed; just enough to give an idea of how it once was. Olympia, on the other hand, was left as little more than a pile of rocks. Of all the Greek sites we visited, the Parthenon was the most reconstructed, and in some ways, (for me) the most beautiful. I can see the point of those who argue an archaeological site should be left as it is found; but I enjoyed the (partially) reconstructed ones more, since it gives the visitor a chance to dwell more on how it once was rather than on the destruction (sometimes wanton) the site and its people have endured. On the other hand, I do think it’s important to keep the balance between the past and the present, so too much reconstruction would be a great mistake. No-one wants to see the Parthenon looking like Disneyland…nor would we want to forget the wanton destruction and devastating effects of war and religious intolerance (the major causes of damage to sites…). I like to see such destruction reversed, to some small degree. (On the other hand, I hated the re-touched Sistine chapel ceiling… it looked more like a cartoon than an ancient artwork…).
In a few instances, sites were in exceptionally well preserved states…like the theatre of Epidaurus, built thousands of years ago, and still fully functional as a theatre seating 14,000 people; with regular performances held annually. The acoustics of this open-air theatre was absolutely astonishing! I was standing at the bottom, near the stage, my husband at the top of the seats; while a lady stood on the stage and sang in a normal voice perfectly audible to everyone. We could hear people speak from anywhere in the auditorium… patrons of the arts there must need to be as silent as mice, so as not to disrupt performances.
Another astonishingly well preserved site is the burial crypt at Mycenae. This enormous igloo-like construction was built of individually hewn stones, around 4000 years ago, and is still perfectly sound and dry inside. The internal ceiling height rises to approximately 5 stories high and is shaped like an enormous dome. It lies under a hillside that was constructed over the building after it was built, so the manpower required must have been incredible. We entered the crypt through a tunnel supported by massive hewn stones wedged into place by their shape, and still secure thousands of years later. Can anyone imagine a modern structure lasting that long?
The rest of Mycenae was impressive too; the arched entry to the city (called the Lion Gate due to the stone carved lion figure positioned above the entry) was still mostly intact despite being exposed to the elements for 4000 years… I was impressed with the level of comfort and sophistication these ancient peoples enjoyed. Art and decoration held a more important place in those times; perhaps that’s why I find it so fascinating. Most of the ancient cites had several venues for theatre, sport arenas, bath-houses, laundries, hotels and of course brothels. Places of worship and philosophy were also very important to ancient societies, and artisans of every sort found permanent employment beautifying public buildings, as well as their streets & homes. Most of the artefacts are now housed in museums near the sites, and give the visitor a bit of an insight to how beautiful these ancient cities were.
Of all the sites we visited, Ephesus (in Turkey) was the easiest to imagine how marvellously beautiful it must have been. Many of the buildings have been partially reconstructed, allowing the passing visitor to imagine the statues that adorned each plinth, (lining both sides of a mile-long road…) the water lilies that floated in the pools; the fountains splashing in the hot sun, people dressed in colourful robes; horses and riders travelling the wide marble roadways… I could almost hear their voices.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
chapter 7; scaling the heights
Most of my travel highlights involve climbing to the top of hills, monuments or artefacts…I’ve always had a thing for heights, and conversely, tend to find plains boring. The most notable exception was Ephesus, which is situated on land only gently sloping, and extending down onto a broad plain. Another exception was the Colosseum in Rome; the sheer scale and antiquity of it was stunning. Many of the remaining highlights were elevated.
Climbing the Eifel tower was the first such highlight. We arrived in the evening, and by the time we got through the queue and into the lifts, it was getting dark. We arrived on the second floor, and stepped out on a platform to see all of Paris lit up below us. It was really beautiful; the Paris Illuminations are justifiably famous, especially from that height. Below us we could see a 17th century merry-go-round, also brightly lit; and across the Seine, another.
Virtually every building in central Paris is built in keeping with the traditional architectural style, and so the scene arrayed before us could have been out of another era. We could picture horse drawn carriages, and ladies in gowns travelling the historic streets; although the presence of modern traffic did not seem out of place either.
Paris is a beautiful city; especially at night. We soaked up the atmosphere, and then descended the tower on foot. I was amazed by how many steps there were; and we’d only been half-way up the tower! By the time we reached the ground my legs were jelly… Amazing to think the tower was built as an art-piece, intended only to remain a few years & then be removed…(the Parisians at the time considered it a blot on the landscape, just as many today consider the fabulous glass pyramids at the Louvre to be…) The tower stands today as a testament to art and architecture, and to the madness inherent in the creative act.. Vivre la madness!!!
Another form of madness provided my next highlight. As we travelled across Greece towards the town of Kalambaka, some of my companions discussed what form of insanity might cause religious fanatics to build monasteries on top of huge stone columns such as we were about to see in Meteora. All that remains of the over 70 original monasteries, are 7still standing, and only some of those still operating as monasteries. Why, people wondered, would anyone need to isolate themselves on top of gigantic stone pillars, in order to feel closer to god? As we drew nearer to the town of Kalambaka, we could see the rock formations towering over the buildings. The closer we got the more massive they appeared; they absolutely dominated the landscape. Our hotel (and every other building in town) had a fantastic view of these monstrous elemental artefacts.
In the morning we travelled by bus up into the foothills, where we passed caves in the side of some of the rock towers. In these caves (more like cracks and slits in the sheer rock-face) were what looked like small platforms made of twigs, that were used by monks who sought purification. They would go and live on these fragile platforms for days or weeks, until the flesh was subdued. These people took their spiritual hygiene seriously!
The closer we got to the rock-towers, the bigger we saw they were. Here and there we could see buildings on the topmost part of the formation. We eventually arrived at a height about 2/3rd of the way up, where the bus parked, the rest of the way was on foot. At one time the only access to the monasteries had been by basket, hauled up the sheer cliffs by winch. Now roads have been built bringing visitors closer to the towers, and stone bridges constructed across the chasms, so that only a modest amount of energy is required to reach the top. (More than some people wanted to exert, but I felt it should have been more difficult…) Once we arrived at the monastery it was truly a world apart. Had it not been for the huge number of tourists, it would have been really tranquil.
Each monastery sits atop its own tower, and as I mentioned, at one time there had been over 70. This gives you some idea of the scale of these amazing rock-formations. They extend for miles, and are surrounded by extensive flat plains in all directions.
The first monastery we visited was for men only, and I was asked by the Monk at the entry, (quite sternly,) to cover my chest, before I was allowed to enter. This done, we explored the public portion of what was quite a large facility. Everything had been hand decorated with elaborate religious artwork, and was very beautiful. The second visit was to the Ladies monastery, which was smaller and more dainty, with a pretty little pocket of garden in front of the caretakers cottage. The artwork style was more feminine too.
After these visits we stopped at a point near the road where we could walk out onto a rock pillar on foot. Here in the presence of only a few other people, we experienced the peace and tranquillity that had brought the early religious pilgrims. No-one questioned the sanity or logic of building monasteries there after that.
Climbing the Eifel tower was the first such highlight. We arrived in the evening, and by the time we got through the queue and into the lifts, it was getting dark. We arrived on the second floor, and stepped out on a platform to see all of Paris lit up below us. It was really beautiful; the Paris Illuminations are justifiably famous, especially from that height. Below us we could see a 17th century merry-go-round, also brightly lit; and across the Seine, another.
Virtually every building in central Paris is built in keeping with the traditional architectural style, and so the scene arrayed before us could have been out of another era. We could picture horse drawn carriages, and ladies in gowns travelling the historic streets; although the presence of modern traffic did not seem out of place either.
Paris is a beautiful city; especially at night. We soaked up the atmosphere, and then descended the tower on foot. I was amazed by how many steps there were; and we’d only been half-way up the tower! By the time we reached the ground my legs were jelly… Amazing to think the tower was built as an art-piece, intended only to remain a few years & then be removed…(the Parisians at the time considered it a blot on the landscape, just as many today consider the fabulous glass pyramids at the Louvre to be…) The tower stands today as a testament to art and architecture, and to the madness inherent in the creative act.. Vivre la madness!!!
Another form of madness provided my next highlight. As we travelled across Greece towards the town of Kalambaka, some of my companions discussed what form of insanity might cause religious fanatics to build monasteries on top of huge stone columns such as we were about to see in Meteora. All that remains of the over 70 original monasteries, are 7still standing, and only some of those still operating as monasteries. Why, people wondered, would anyone need to isolate themselves on top of gigantic stone pillars, in order to feel closer to god? As we drew nearer to the town of Kalambaka, we could see the rock formations towering over the buildings. The closer we got the more massive they appeared; they absolutely dominated the landscape. Our hotel (and every other building in town) had a fantastic view of these monstrous elemental artefacts.
In the morning we travelled by bus up into the foothills, where we passed caves in the side of some of the rock towers. In these caves (more like cracks and slits in the sheer rock-face) were what looked like small platforms made of twigs, that were used by monks who sought purification. They would go and live on these fragile platforms for days or weeks, until the flesh was subdued. These people took their spiritual hygiene seriously!
The closer we got to the rock-towers, the bigger we saw they were. Here and there we could see buildings on the topmost part of the formation. We eventually arrived at a height about 2/3rd of the way up, where the bus parked, the rest of the way was on foot. At one time the only access to the monasteries had been by basket, hauled up the sheer cliffs by winch. Now roads have been built bringing visitors closer to the towers, and stone bridges constructed across the chasms, so that only a modest amount of energy is required to reach the top. (More than some people wanted to exert, but I felt it should have been more difficult…) Once we arrived at the monastery it was truly a world apart. Had it not been for the huge number of tourists, it would have been really tranquil.
Each monastery sits atop its own tower, and as I mentioned, at one time there had been over 70. This gives you some idea of the scale of these amazing rock-formations. They extend for miles, and are surrounded by extensive flat plains in all directions.
The first monastery we visited was for men only, and I was asked by the Monk at the entry, (quite sternly,) to cover my chest, before I was allowed to enter. This done, we explored the public portion of what was quite a large facility. Everything had been hand decorated with elaborate religious artwork, and was very beautiful. The second visit was to the Ladies monastery, which was smaller and more dainty, with a pretty little pocket of garden in front of the caretakers cottage. The artwork style was more feminine too.
After these visits we stopped at a point near the road where we could walk out onto a rock pillar on foot. Here in the presence of only a few other people, we experienced the peace and tranquillity that had brought the early religious pilgrims. No-one questioned the sanity or logic of building monasteries there after that.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Chapter 6; Trains, buses, planes and other forms of transport
You would think that aeroplane designers could make a seat as comfortable as a car seat, so that even budget passengers had a modicum of comfort on long haul flights, but apparently this is not possible. I’ve spent hours at a time seated in a car without any discomfort, but even the most comfortable (budget) airplane seat is not nearly as comfortable. They look good; they have all sorts of electronic gadgets, light & airflow controls…tilt-able seats… but invariable become hideously cramped and uncomfortable long before one arrives at ones destination (in most cases, within the first few minutes!). The first couple of hours of a long haul flight is quite fun; after that it is just a matter of endurance. After 2 flights of 12 hrs each, even standing in an airport queue that extends for miles seems an improvement.
Tour buses are not a lot better; the spaces between seats are not consistent, so one may find oneself squeezed into a seat a midget would find cramped. I spent 4 hrs sitting with one leg in the aisle and the other as wide apart as possible, and my foot up on a bag, in order to squeeze into it. After that I refused to sit in that seat (the one in front of the toilet). Fortunately there were a couple of spare seats. Some of the other seats were close-ish too but that one was ridiculous.
The tour-bus toilet was another story. On both tours we were told not to use the onboard toilet (what was the point of having one?); in the TC tour it was supposedly broken, but magically became repaired after I took the tour guide aside and pointed out that many passengers had suffered considerable pain & discomfort holding on… We all knew public toilets can be few and far between in parts of Europe, and the on-board toilet had helped decide us that a tour was a good idea. The Cosmos tour guide was more honest; she said it was a problem emptying it (and cleaning it) in Greece, where such facilities are scarce. We were asked to inform the driver if we required an extra toilet stop. Regardless of this request, once or twice the onboard toilet was a very necessary safeguard. It was quite amusing to see the passengers of every tour bus (including ours) stream immediately towards the toilets the minute the bus stopped. Our trips became a series of episodes of intense activity interspersed with long bus rides broken up by toilet and food stops. I spent about E100 on toilet entry throughout the tour…
It seemed odd to find a toilet manager in each public toilet, collecting entry fees, and sometimes spraying perfume on the used toilet paper in the bins (toilet paper was not allowed to be flushed…). The perfume did not eliminate the terrible smell, it merely transformed it into something indescribable… French toilets were the foulest smelling that we found anywhere. We tended to wait outside in the (huge) queue, then snatch a deep breath before entering; and dread running out of breath before we finished. Some facilities had no water, others no paper, some no ventilation. All were an experience…
No-one actually burst a bladder, or disgraced themselves by not making it in time, but it was touch and go a few times; one day in France Roly leaped off the bus before it had fully stopped and ran into a nearby restaurant restroom, just in the nick of time…
Public transport in Italy is really good (thankfully, since we’d be too timid to tackle driving in the manic Italian traffic). The only trouble is it can be complicated… When we took a day trip from Roccassecca to Sorento, we caught two trains to get to Naples, then another to Pompei where we explored the ruins, then another to Sorrento. There we took a bus to the shore, and a ferry to the Island of Capri; a funicular up to the top of the town there, then a local bus down again, ferry back to Sorrento, and bus back up to the town. We stayed overnight before catching 3 trains back to Roccassecca, where Kay picked us up and drove us to Caprile’… 90 percent of the time on our trip had been spent on public transport of one sort or another.
We never got lost though, and I now have a clear mental picture of the region we went through. We took buses and travelled the Metro in Rome, and found our way back each time; also in Athens, where the city is more spread out than Rome.
In light of our previous successes, when we docked in Kusadassi in Turkey we decided to take local transport to the ruins of Ephesus. A bus took us to the regional bus depot, from there another bus took us to the turn-off to the ruins. From there we took a taxi to the high end of the ruined city. We wandered the stunningly beautiful streets of what remained of Ephesus, (my personal favourite and the greatest archaeological highlight of the entire trip), before wending our way down to the low end of the city. There we found taxi’s waiting, but my companions were sure it was only a few yards to the main road, and insisted they wanted to go back by bus. I asked one of the taxi drivers, who explained the road was over a kilometre away. Also, time was running short, as our ship was disembarking in less than 2 hours. Since it had taken us about an hour to get there, and we had no idea of the bus timetables I was certain we should accept the taxi driver’s very good offer of a budget fare. I certainly had no desire to walk another kilometre in the hot sun, even if we had had time. I managed (with some difficulty) to convince my companions of this, and we returned by taxi. He got us to the ship in plenty of time, and when we worked it out, our share of the fare had cost less than the various other modes of transport we’d have had to take.
On the Island of Sorrento we had the choice of climbing the huge sheer cliff-face on the backs of donkeys (a time honoured method of transport) or by funicular (no-one seriously considered walking…). We chose the funicular, since even from a distance we could smell the donkeys… Once we had explored the charming town perched on the edge of the most massive cliff I have ever seen, we took a local bus along the winding roads to the town of Oia. This town is the most often photographed in the Greek islands since every square inch is picture postcard perfection. Our short visit was well worth while, in spite of the enormous queue we had to wait in for our return trip down the cliff-face. Every one of 7 cruise ships were all departing that evening, so over 7,000 passengers needed to get down to their ships. Some teenagers were so worried about their ship departing without them, they begged me to let them push in. I pointed out to them that all the passengers of all the ships were in the same position; all needing to board before their ships departed. I suggested they walk down the donkey trail, since they looked quite fit enough to handle the winding pathway. This they did, along with many other passengers; freeing up some spaces in the queue. The tender boats all smelled of donkey doo-doo on our way back to the ships.
To my knowledge, no-one was left behind; but it seems crazy to me that all the cruise ships arrive and depart at once…it would be less pressure for shopkeepers if the arrivals and departures of visitors was more spread out. As it is they have an absolutely enormous influx of people all at once, and the huge crowds deter visitors from actually shopping. We saw lots of wonderful artefacts and shopping would have been a delight, had we been able to squeeze past the crowds to enter the shops… Oia was slightly better, but we had little spare time by the time we got there. The cruise timetable gave us an average 4 hrs at each stop.
Since we were blessed with stunningly good weather (apart from being much too hot) for the duration of the cruise, it was our favourite mode of transport. There was no down time just waiting to get somewhere; we went to bed at night, and woke up at some new destination. There was always plenty to do, and the food was great. The shows were very good, the pools refreshing, and even our tiny cabin was an improvement on some Italian hotels we’d stayed in. The only problem I had was a feeling of claustrophobia, since our cabin was in the middle of the ship, meaning absolute pitch-blackness when lights were out. The good thing about the middle cabins though, is there is less roll than external ones, should the weather turn rough. A few people suffered sea sickness on our last night, as we crossed the open sea back to Piraeus.
Next time I cruise I’ll take a night-light to plug in…
You would think that aeroplane designers could make a seat as comfortable as a car seat, so that even budget passengers had a modicum of comfort on long haul flights, but apparently this is not possible. I’ve spent hours at a time seated in a car without any discomfort, but even the most comfortable (budget) airplane seat is not nearly as comfortable. They look good; they have all sorts of electronic gadgets, light & airflow controls…tilt-able seats… but invariable become hideously cramped and uncomfortable long before one arrives at ones destination (in most cases, within the first few minutes!). The first couple of hours of a long haul flight is quite fun; after that it is just a matter of endurance. After 2 flights of 12 hrs each, even standing in an airport queue that extends for miles seems an improvement.
Tour buses are not a lot better; the spaces between seats are not consistent, so one may find oneself squeezed into a seat a midget would find cramped. I spent 4 hrs sitting with one leg in the aisle and the other as wide apart as possible, and my foot up on a bag, in order to squeeze into it. After that I refused to sit in that seat (the one in front of the toilet). Fortunately there were a couple of spare seats. Some of the other seats were close-ish too but that one was ridiculous.
The tour-bus toilet was another story. On both tours we were told not to use the onboard toilet (what was the point of having one?); in the TC tour it was supposedly broken, but magically became repaired after I took the tour guide aside and pointed out that many passengers had suffered considerable pain & discomfort holding on… We all knew public toilets can be few and far between in parts of Europe, and the on-board toilet had helped decide us that a tour was a good idea. The Cosmos tour guide was more honest; she said it was a problem emptying it (and cleaning it) in Greece, where such facilities are scarce. We were asked to inform the driver if we required an extra toilet stop. Regardless of this request, once or twice the onboard toilet was a very necessary safeguard. It was quite amusing to see the passengers of every tour bus (including ours) stream immediately towards the toilets the minute the bus stopped. Our trips became a series of episodes of intense activity interspersed with long bus rides broken up by toilet and food stops. I spent about E100 on toilet entry throughout the tour…
It seemed odd to find a toilet manager in each public toilet, collecting entry fees, and sometimes spraying perfume on the used toilet paper in the bins (toilet paper was not allowed to be flushed…). The perfume did not eliminate the terrible smell, it merely transformed it into something indescribable… French toilets were the foulest smelling that we found anywhere. We tended to wait outside in the (huge) queue, then snatch a deep breath before entering; and dread running out of breath before we finished. Some facilities had no water, others no paper, some no ventilation. All were an experience…
No-one actually burst a bladder, or disgraced themselves by not making it in time, but it was touch and go a few times; one day in France Roly leaped off the bus before it had fully stopped and ran into a nearby restaurant restroom, just in the nick of time…
Public transport in Italy is really good (thankfully, since we’d be too timid to tackle driving in the manic Italian traffic). The only trouble is it can be complicated… When we took a day trip from Roccassecca to Sorento, we caught two trains to get to Naples, then another to Pompei where we explored the ruins, then another to Sorrento. There we took a bus to the shore, and a ferry to the Island of Capri; a funicular up to the top of the town there, then a local bus down again, ferry back to Sorrento, and bus back up to the town. We stayed overnight before catching 3 trains back to Roccassecca, where Kay picked us up and drove us to Caprile’… 90 percent of the time on our trip had been spent on public transport of one sort or another.
We never got lost though, and I now have a clear mental picture of the region we went through. We took buses and travelled the Metro in Rome, and found our way back each time; also in Athens, where the city is more spread out than Rome.
In light of our previous successes, when we docked in Kusadassi in Turkey we decided to take local transport to the ruins of Ephesus. A bus took us to the regional bus depot, from there another bus took us to the turn-off to the ruins. From there we took a taxi to the high end of the ruined city. We wandered the stunningly beautiful streets of what remained of Ephesus, (my personal favourite and the greatest archaeological highlight of the entire trip), before wending our way down to the low end of the city. There we found taxi’s waiting, but my companions were sure it was only a few yards to the main road, and insisted they wanted to go back by bus. I asked one of the taxi drivers, who explained the road was over a kilometre away. Also, time was running short, as our ship was disembarking in less than 2 hours. Since it had taken us about an hour to get there, and we had no idea of the bus timetables I was certain we should accept the taxi driver’s very good offer of a budget fare. I certainly had no desire to walk another kilometre in the hot sun, even if we had had time. I managed (with some difficulty) to convince my companions of this, and we returned by taxi. He got us to the ship in plenty of time, and when we worked it out, our share of the fare had cost less than the various other modes of transport we’d have had to take.
On the Island of Sorrento we had the choice of climbing the huge sheer cliff-face on the backs of donkeys (a time honoured method of transport) or by funicular (no-one seriously considered walking…). We chose the funicular, since even from a distance we could smell the donkeys… Once we had explored the charming town perched on the edge of the most massive cliff I have ever seen, we took a local bus along the winding roads to the town of Oia. This town is the most often photographed in the Greek islands since every square inch is picture postcard perfection. Our short visit was well worth while, in spite of the enormous queue we had to wait in for our return trip down the cliff-face. Every one of 7 cruise ships were all departing that evening, so over 7,000 passengers needed to get down to their ships. Some teenagers were so worried about their ship departing without them, they begged me to let them push in. I pointed out to them that all the passengers of all the ships were in the same position; all needing to board before their ships departed. I suggested they walk down the donkey trail, since they looked quite fit enough to handle the winding pathway. This they did, along with many other passengers; freeing up some spaces in the queue. The tender boats all smelled of donkey doo-doo on our way back to the ships.
To my knowledge, no-one was left behind; but it seems crazy to me that all the cruise ships arrive and depart at once…it would be less pressure for shopkeepers if the arrivals and departures of visitors was more spread out. As it is they have an absolutely enormous influx of people all at once, and the huge crowds deter visitors from actually shopping. We saw lots of wonderful artefacts and shopping would have been a delight, had we been able to squeeze past the crowds to enter the shops… Oia was slightly better, but we had little spare time by the time we got there. The cruise timetable gave us an average 4 hrs at each stop.
Since we were blessed with stunningly good weather (apart from being much too hot) for the duration of the cruise, it was our favourite mode of transport. There was no down time just waiting to get somewhere; we went to bed at night, and woke up at some new destination. There was always plenty to do, and the food was great. The shows were very good, the pools refreshing, and even our tiny cabin was an improvement on some Italian hotels we’d stayed in. The only problem I had was a feeling of claustrophobia, since our cabin was in the middle of the ship, meaning absolute pitch-blackness when lights were out. The good thing about the middle cabins though, is there is less roll than external ones, should the weather turn rough. A few people suffered sea sickness on our last night, as we crossed the open sea back to Piraeus.
Next time I cruise I’ll take a night-light to plug in…
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Caprile' continued;
After piling various pillows blankets & sundry clothes under the saggy mattresses, we slept quite well on the ancient and rather lumpy beds. After touring for a couple of weeks, and sleeping in all kinds of beds, (mostly hard) it was actually quite nice to have the same bed (regardless of its age & other deficiencies)for ten nights! We tended to be jolted awake whenever the church-bell out the window tolled (supposedly every 15 minutes, but actually it could be silent for several hours, then ring randomly...)but we got used to it. In the morning we were awoken by neighbours calling to each other out the windows, or in the alley below; then we got up and soaked in the stunning views out the windows.
Breakfast (and all our subsequent meals) was cooked in one rather battered aluminium pan on a gas hob which was lit with a candle. We also had a pot, which had to double as kettle. In spite of only one element functioning, I enjoyed cooking various Italian or kiwi style food while we were there. It was a bit like camping...
Bathing was interesting; the water temperature was turned down so low that to get a warm shower only a tiny trickle of tepid water came out. One needed to stand in a peculiar shaped chub-bath with water up to our ankles, (warmed up in the pot on the stove...) and scoop up water to pour over oneself. Later we had the temperature turned up, making it theoretically possible to have a proper shower. Unfortunately there was no shower curtain, so water would go all over the room... In the end we sat in the chub, with feet sticking up in the air and had baths. (It was rather difficult to get out again...)
Staying in this character house was a highlight of my trip, and I thank Kay enormously for finding it for us.
Italians are very thrifty people, and take the responsibility of saving electricity very seriously. The houses have very minimal wiring, and few power points (some so old as to be impossible to be used by modern appliances). We managed to find one that occasionally worked enough to re-charge my phone. Lights had to be turned off as soon as you leave the room. Neighbours reminded us if we failed to extinguish all the lights when we went out. This made finding our way in again a bit fraught, but we managed not to tumble down the stone steps in the dark... we learned never to go out without a torch.
Kay's friend, Francesca(our neighbour)kindly invited us over for a couple of wonderful meals. She is a marvelous cook, and showed us real Italian cuisine; including a dish made with garden snails (not my favourite dish) and another using wild asparagus. We ate more pasta that week than we ever had before... it got a bit tedious at the time, but now I find myself occasionally craving dishes we ate while in Italy. I missed a gnocchi making lesson when Roly got restless and wanted to take a day trip, but got home in time to join Francesca, Kay & friends for a meal of gnocchi, and other delicacies.
A new favourite dish is Carbonarra, eaten in a restaurant in Cassino. I found a recipe and made it for lunch the other day. It was just the way I remembered it, and eating it brought back memories of the trip, and of Kay's friend's war museum in Cassino.
Breakfast (and all our subsequent meals) was cooked in one rather battered aluminium pan on a gas hob which was lit with a candle. We also had a pot, which had to double as kettle. In spite of only one element functioning, I enjoyed cooking various Italian or kiwi style food while we were there. It was a bit like camping...
Bathing was interesting; the water temperature was turned down so low that to get a warm shower only a tiny trickle of tepid water came out. One needed to stand in a peculiar shaped chub-bath with water up to our ankles, (warmed up in the pot on the stove...) and scoop up water to pour over oneself. Later we had the temperature turned up, making it theoretically possible to have a proper shower. Unfortunately there was no shower curtain, so water would go all over the room... In the end we sat in the chub, with feet sticking up in the air and had baths. (It was rather difficult to get out again...)
Staying in this character house was a highlight of my trip, and I thank Kay enormously for finding it for us.
Italians are very thrifty people, and take the responsibility of saving electricity very seriously. The houses have very minimal wiring, and few power points (some so old as to be impossible to be used by modern appliances). We managed to find one that occasionally worked enough to re-charge my phone. Lights had to be turned off as soon as you leave the room. Neighbours reminded us if we failed to extinguish all the lights when we went out. This made finding our way in again a bit fraught, but we managed not to tumble down the stone steps in the dark... we learned never to go out without a torch.
Kay's friend, Francesca(our neighbour)kindly invited us over for a couple of wonderful meals. She is a marvelous cook, and showed us real Italian cuisine; including a dish made with garden snails (not my favourite dish) and another using wild asparagus. We ate more pasta that week than we ever had before... it got a bit tedious at the time, but now I find myself occasionally craving dishes we ate while in Italy. I missed a gnocchi making lesson when Roly got restless and wanted to take a day trip, but got home in time to join Francesca, Kay & friends for a meal of gnocchi, and other delicacies.
A new favourite dish is Carbonarra, eaten in a restaurant in Cassino. I found a recipe and made it for lunch the other day. It was just the way I remembered it, and eating it brought back memories of the trip, and of Kay's friend's war museum in Cassino.
Chapter 5; caprile' and Roccassecca.
I almost arrived in Roccassecca alone and without luggage; Roly charged off ahead in Rome's Termini station (without the slightest idea where he was going)and disappeared from sight amid the crowds of people. I figured he'd look for the information desk once he realised I was gone, and either wait there for me to find him, or go to the appropriate platform and wait there. Accordingly, when I failed to find him at the information desk I went & purchased the tickets, and then started looking for him. The reason we'd been separated was my tendinitis that caused every step I took to be painful, and the stiffness of the tendons caused me to limp. I hobbled about the platform for over an hour looking for him, and was almost ready to go without him (the train was leaving in 15 minutes...)when it occurred to me to use male logic, and look for him in the only part of the terminal that we had never been before, (and would not need to go to...) and sure enough that was where he had decided to wait. We just had time to get to the platform and board the train, before departure. Once aboard I learned that he'd only a very sketchy idea of where we were going, and could never have found his way alone.
We managed to depart the train at the right stop, and there was our friend Kay, waiting to take us to our accommodation. (She probably has no idea how happy we were to see her...)She drove us out of the fairly ordinary Italian town of Roccassecca and up along the hillside to the ancient town of Caprile', past some very picturesque scenery and the birth place of Thomas Aquinas to the prettiest little village I have ever seen. The charming stone buildings of the town are over 400 years old, and, externally at least, are unchanged. Each building houses several apartments ranging from one bedroom to comfortable 3 bedroom homes. Kay's house is on the ground floor of her building, and is actually below street level. She showed us the many charms and potentials of her home, and then took us to see ours. It turned out to be up several levels (the town is built into the side of a steep hillside, and the cobblestoned roads zig zag upwards.) Her friend Francesca helped drag our heavy suitcases up the steps, and we entered our temporary home; It was an enormous 3bedroom stone house, even older than Kay's, with antique furniture that looked as old as the house itself! Nothing was very comfortable, and it was all rather rundown, but had bucket loads of atmosphere. One of the charms of the house was the church & bell tower right outside the lounge window. We did eventually learn to sleep through its ringing (every 15 minutes...)
Thus began our 10 day idyll in Caprile'...
We managed to depart the train at the right stop, and there was our friend Kay, waiting to take us to our accommodation. (She probably has no idea how happy we were to see her...)She drove us out of the fairly ordinary Italian town of Roccassecca and up along the hillside to the ancient town of Caprile', past some very picturesque scenery and the birth place of Thomas Aquinas to the prettiest little village I have ever seen. The charming stone buildings of the town are over 400 years old, and, externally at least, are unchanged. Each building houses several apartments ranging from one bedroom to comfortable 3 bedroom homes. Kay's house is on the ground floor of her building, and is actually below street level. She showed us the many charms and potentials of her home, and then took us to see ours. It turned out to be up several levels (the town is built into the side of a steep hillside, and the cobblestoned roads zig zag upwards.) Her friend Francesca helped drag our heavy suitcases up the steps, and we entered our temporary home; It was an enormous 3bedroom stone house, even older than Kay's, with antique furniture that looked as old as the house itself! Nothing was very comfortable, and it was all rather rundown, but had bucket loads of atmosphere. One of the charms of the house was the church & bell tower right outside the lounge window. We did eventually learn to sleep through its ringing (every 15 minutes...)
Thus began our 10 day idyll in Caprile'...
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
chapter 4; from the ridiculous to the sublime.
It seemed ridiculous that for the average package-tour tourist, shopping in Europe tended to be from street stalls managed by foreign immigrants (often illegal ones) who sold a range of tatt & nick knacks uncannily similar to all the other stalls; and similar to what could be found in stalls in Bangkok too. Nearly everything mass produced in China...why would one travel to Paris, Rome, Venice, or Pisa to buy products made in China and sold anywhere and everywhere else? It was bizarre to approach the ancient walled square of Pisa through alleys lined with such stalls, manned by vendors from every poor nation on earth, and virtually no one Italian. From Bangkok to Istanbul we were harassed and pressured by stall holders and shopkeepers selling things we had no desire to buy. It became offensive to most of us not used to high pressure salesmanship. We quickly got over our guilt at not buying, and learned to not look at anything in any stall; avoiding eye contact with vendors tended to make us look down as we passed by. How much did we miss as we walked the streets with downcast eyes?
We became so adept at refusing to buy that it was a few days before our return home when it dawned on us we had bought nothing to take home as souvenirs for ourselves. I was in Istanbul at the time, and we had just been hijacked by a carpet seller who assured us he was our 'good friend' and we were his 'family'. We were enticed and cajoled into entering his friends carpet shop, where we would have experienced the well known tea drinking ceremony designed to create a sense of obligation to buy. Since none of us had any intention to buy a carpet, we refused the tea and departed; much to the displeasure of the shopkeeper... our new 'friend' followed us out the door & tried to lure us back in, but we stood firm. We politely waved him goodbye and resumed our interrupted amble about the streets. Then it dawned on me; apart from a lovely bronze sculpture purchased in Greece, I had bought nothing of any value the entire trip! I had surreptitiously glanced into a few shops, and noticed some rather interesting artifacts...
I can now include shopping in Istanbul as one of my highlights. Once I made up my mind not to be intimidated by high pressure salesmen (actually I walked out of shops where I felt pressured, and only bought from shops that left me to make up me own mind), I found it was fun. Some of my companions were inspired to join me in a shopping spree too, so the taxi back to the ship was bulging!
Generally speaking we found Greece had the best quality wares available, with much of it being hand-made locally. Istanbul too had quite a lot of quality local wares at good or fair prices. Greek shopkeepers were more subtle, apart from one elderly stall keeper who was so bad tempered we stalked off infuriated.
Our Cosmos tour of Greece had taken us to every major site on the mainland as well as those in Istanbul, Kusadasi & the Greek Isles, and at every one there were stalls selling nick knacks. Although we'd resisted the cheap souvenirs, we'd spent a lot of money on entry fees by then, and were becoming blaze' about ancient artefact's, churches and monuments. I began to think I wouldn't care to see another church, archaeological sight, or art exhibit ever again. However, our last free day was in Athens, & I dredged up the energy to walk to an exhibition of modern art by an artist called Adolph Luther, in a nearby art gallery. I was happy to pay the 6E entry fee, but Roly refused, and decided to wait outside. I was stunned and mind boggled by the artwork (I had thought my mind was fully boggled by then but apparently not...). I found myself immediately aware of the artist's intentions, and to some degree, on the same wavelength. His fascination with light echoed my own, but had taken my line of thought much further. The piece De la resistance was a large freestanding work which required the viewer to walk around it, and in so doing 3dimensional images/reflections were cast into the space between viewer and object. The experience was sublime. Even now I feel my skin tingle in remembrance. I needed to share the experience with someone, so I dragged Roly in to see it. He stood in awe for some time (as I had), and to date it is the only art exhibition he has described enthusiastically to others. After that I was ready to go home.
We became so adept at refusing to buy that it was a few days before our return home when it dawned on us we had bought nothing to take home as souvenirs for ourselves. I was in Istanbul at the time, and we had just been hijacked by a carpet seller who assured us he was our 'good friend' and we were his 'family'. We were enticed and cajoled into entering his friends carpet shop, where we would have experienced the well known tea drinking ceremony designed to create a sense of obligation to buy. Since none of us had any intention to buy a carpet, we refused the tea and departed; much to the displeasure of the shopkeeper... our new 'friend' followed us out the door & tried to lure us back in, but we stood firm. We politely waved him goodbye and resumed our interrupted amble about the streets. Then it dawned on me; apart from a lovely bronze sculpture purchased in Greece, I had bought nothing of any value the entire trip! I had surreptitiously glanced into a few shops, and noticed some rather interesting artifacts...
I can now include shopping in Istanbul as one of my highlights. Once I made up my mind not to be intimidated by high pressure salesmen (actually I walked out of shops where I felt pressured, and only bought from shops that left me to make up me own mind), I found it was fun. Some of my companions were inspired to join me in a shopping spree too, so the taxi back to the ship was bulging!
Generally speaking we found Greece had the best quality wares available, with much of it being hand-made locally. Istanbul too had quite a lot of quality local wares at good or fair prices. Greek shopkeepers were more subtle, apart from one elderly stall keeper who was so bad tempered we stalked off infuriated.
Our Cosmos tour of Greece had taken us to every major site on the mainland as well as those in Istanbul, Kusadasi & the Greek Isles, and at every one there were stalls selling nick knacks. Although we'd resisted the cheap souvenirs, we'd spent a lot of money on entry fees by then, and were becoming blaze' about ancient artefact's, churches and monuments. I began to think I wouldn't care to see another church, archaeological sight, or art exhibit ever again. However, our last free day was in Athens, & I dredged up the energy to walk to an exhibition of modern art by an artist called Adolph Luther, in a nearby art gallery. I was happy to pay the 6E entry fee, but Roly refused, and decided to wait outside. I was stunned and mind boggled by the artwork (I had thought my mind was fully boggled by then but apparently not...). I found myself immediately aware of the artist's intentions, and to some degree, on the same wavelength. His fascination with light echoed my own, but had taken my line of thought much further. The piece De la resistance was a large freestanding work which required the viewer to walk around it, and in so doing 3dimensional images/reflections were cast into the space between viewer and object. The experience was sublime. Even now I feel my skin tingle in remembrance. I needed to share the experience with someone, so I dragged Roly in to see it. He stood in awe for some time (as I had), and to date it is the only art exhibition he has described enthusiastically to others. After that I was ready to go home.
chapter 3; kaleidoscopes
Once again while trying to sleep I find a kaleidoscope of images and events drifting randomly through my mind. Whenever I try to focus on one or another, the pieces form into one kind of pattern before breaking up again and re-forming into a new one. That's the fun thing about kaleidoscopes; the pieces can be rearranged endlessly into a myriad pleasing and often surprising patterns. Unfortunately they tend to be impossible to re-create in quite the same order next time. I guess I'll just have to shake them up again & see what comes out...
One such random experience that springs to mind just now is of walking through the catacombs with the tour group; the lighting is subdued, and the tour guide points out that there are miles of as yet unexplored tunnels in which me might become lost for ever, should we wander off... Its cool under ground, and there's a sense of faint disgust when it is pointed out that once upon a time, bodies purifying could cause asphyxiation of the unwary visitor. Now the place has an earthy smell but nothing toxic...the human remains have been removed from this part of the catacombs. I am fairly comfortable with the experience, until we re-emerge in the church built above the tunnels; it is partially underground too, and has a dreadful odour of mold and decay. Suddenly I have to be outside in the fresh air. I make my apologies to the tour guide and go outside to sit in the gardens. This is the first time I have remembered this experience since that day. It didn't strike me as that dreadful that I'd need to blank it out, but still, I forgot the entire experience till now...
And then there was the day we docked at the beautiful Greek Island of Micconos, and stepped off our air conditioned cruise ship into a 42degrees Celcius heatwave. I'd only gone a dozen steps before I was drenched with sweat. My companions were keen to explore, despite the heat, and I tried to enjoy the quaint streets and charming shops, but all I could think about was having a swim. The azure sea sparkled and beckoned until I just had to succumb. Unfortunately I was not wearing my swimsuit, and could find nowhere to change... After sitting on the beach for a while frustratedly trying to decide if anyone would notice if I swam in my underwear, I finally decided to go behind a low wall and change into my swimsuit. Disregarding passersby, I changed as discreetly as possible and plunged joyfully into the tepid water. The swim revived me enough to determine to return in the evening for a second visit to the town. The place came alive after dark; the lights glittered on the water; flower draped tavernas bustled with satisfied customers. The streets filled with people, and the atmosphere was electric. Another of my highlights...I'd love to go back there someday.
One such random experience that springs to mind just now is of walking through the catacombs with the tour group; the lighting is subdued, and the tour guide points out that there are miles of as yet unexplored tunnels in which me might become lost for ever, should we wander off... Its cool under ground, and there's a sense of faint disgust when it is pointed out that once upon a time, bodies purifying could cause asphyxiation of the unwary visitor. Now the place has an earthy smell but nothing toxic...the human remains have been removed from this part of the catacombs. I am fairly comfortable with the experience, until we re-emerge in the church built above the tunnels; it is partially underground too, and has a dreadful odour of mold and decay. Suddenly I have to be outside in the fresh air. I make my apologies to the tour guide and go outside to sit in the gardens. This is the first time I have remembered this experience since that day. It didn't strike me as that dreadful that I'd need to blank it out, but still, I forgot the entire experience till now...
And then there was the day we docked at the beautiful Greek Island of Micconos, and stepped off our air conditioned cruise ship into a 42degrees Celcius heatwave. I'd only gone a dozen steps before I was drenched with sweat. My companions were keen to explore, despite the heat, and I tried to enjoy the quaint streets and charming shops, but all I could think about was having a swim. The azure sea sparkled and beckoned until I just had to succumb. Unfortunately I was not wearing my swimsuit, and could find nowhere to change... After sitting on the beach for a while frustratedly trying to decide if anyone would notice if I swam in my underwear, I finally decided to go behind a low wall and change into my swimsuit. Disregarding passersby, I changed as discreetly as possible and plunged joyfully into the tepid water. The swim revived me enough to determine to return in the evening for a second visit to the town. The place came alive after dark; the lights glittered on the water; flower draped tavernas bustled with satisfied customers. The streets filled with people, and the atmosphere was electric. Another of my highlights...I'd love to go back there someday.
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