An American in Scotland

While the guys were golfing in St Andrews, there was shopping to be done. If I were a fan of using alliteration in my writing, I would say that St Andrews is simply adorable, so consider it said. The University of St Andrews is at the heart of the town, and it was graduation time while we were there, which elevated the charming level.

The town was a hub of activity, but Dacia (my daughter-in-law) and I managed to find a cute spot for lunch. It’s a good thing we got seated before noon, because a line quickly formed as we ate our salads. Are you aware of the reputation of Scottish food?  I’ll just say that you don’t go there for the cuisine. One can only eat so much haggis, and for me that was very little. I felt obligated to try it – I was in Scotland, after all, but one bite was enough. Sheep internal organs mixed with fillers to disguise what you are eating was not for me. We decided to have salads with grilled chicken for a change.

When we finished eating we made sure to use the facilities (i.e. toilet) before leaving the restaurant. It can be challenging to find a toilet over there, and a lot of places want you to pay. Therefore, we tried never to miss an opportunity when it presented itself. And this one made quite the presentation.

Here in the states, we have lots of room, especially the further west you go. But in Europe, space is at a premium. That is why this toilet is nothing short of brilliant. The toilet stall itself was about twice the size of a phone booth, and when I sat down, I was greeted by my reflection in a mirror (from the shoulders up). On the lower section of the mirror were written the words, “You’re looking good!” It was efficient use of space and a reassuring statement. I could make sure I didn’t have spinach in my teeth; therefore, literally doing two things at once. When I stood up, I had only to turn around to wash my hands on the sink that was part of the top of the toilet tank. There was an air dryer to the right of it. The perfect marriage of efficiency and weirdness. I loved it.

We were ready to visit some shops and spy out the graduates as they walked down the street with beaming faces.

I loved watching the graduates in their caps and gowns and sometimes kilts. Not to be confused with not wearing pants or kilts, of course. Everyone was decent! It wasn’t like that famous Braveheart scene which we can all recall.

Speaking of that scene, I had the best time with a couple, probably near retirement age, who owned a sweet little shop in St Andrews. I found the people in Scotland very friendly but none more than this couple. At first, I didn’t recognize him as the owner. He looked like he was getting ready to stock a shelf as he had a box of goods in his hand. I turned a corner, and we ended up facing each other. I offered that he should go first as he was getting paid to be there and I was merely shopping.

“Oh, nay,” he said. “I don’t get paid to work here.”

“Then you must be the owner,” I replied as he made his way behind the counter.

As I put my purchases on the counter, I figured his wife was the lady sitting on a stool in the corner. She was smiling at me and listening to the conversation. This is where Braveheart comes in. There is much souvenir merchandise devoted to that famous mooning scene on the battlefront of the epic movie. I had seen it on aprons, mugs, and at that moment emblazoned on the stack of coasters that was sitting by the cash register. Men in kilts mooning aka Braveheart is quite an industry.

I picked up a coaster and said, “But you must make a fortune from the residuals from these!”

At this point his wife broke into laughter and he smiled that friendly Scottish smile that without a word acknowledged that what I said was true – he had a secret life as a kilt model. He thanked me for my business, and after a few more laughs and comments, we were on our way.

The goods on display for sale had me reminding myself that the month was June. Evidently they don’t have much summer in Scotland.

I wasn’t in Orlando anymore!

After returning home, my old friend, Diane, reminded me that I had put in some time wearing a kilt. I had completely forgotten my time as part of a Job’s Daughters (teenage girls’ part of Masonic organization) drill team. I had been the captain for a couple years, and I loved it. The captain barked out the commands and guided the team through maneuvers in competitions and also in a few parades. I’m including a picture here to end this post. Yep, we weren’t exactly holding to the letter of the Scottish kilt law, if there is such a thing, but we did have a good time.

15-year-old me on my knees in the front with my co-captain, Gayle, to my left. Diane on front row far right by our coach. I spent a lot of wonderful time with these girls. Sweet memories.

A Golfing We Will Go


Three generations of golfers

What a joy to see my golf-loving husband play golf with our son and grandsons at the place where golf was born. When our son, Jesse, first brought up the idea of a Scotland golf trip, it was a no-brainer. Except for already having a European vacation with three other couples planned for April and this golf trip was planned for June, there was not much to consider. We would make it happen. Sometimes you just seize the moment. We had six weeks between trips – just enough time for me to get over jetlag!

Bob was charged with planning the trip. Let me say, if you want to play golf at the Old Course at St Andrews, you need to book ahead and be ready for the stipulations which are enforced for golfers. First, book way ahead – maybe the year before. Bob booked these tee times last summer, and there were other hoops to jump through. In order to play the Old Course, you have to play one other course at St Andrews. You also must have a set handicap of 24. When those requirements are met, they are happy to welcome you and your money to their course.

Also, it is advisable, though not required, to have a caddy. This is important as sometimes you are driving blind, and the caddy is your course guide, like an ambassador of the course. For us, they were also entertaining.

There was one more major consideration, which crept up on us months after the trip was planned. In January, Bob had neck surgery – a fusion. He was not allowed to swing a club for three months, and it had been almost three months since he had been able to play before surgery. That had him wait until April 30 to get back in golfing shape – six weeks before leaving for Scotland. He was a patient patient and put in the time resting, but when the required wait was over, he morphed happily into training mode.

The week before our trip, he ventured out two days in a row. He nailed it. Nothing hurt more than you’d think it would for a guy his age. He was ready for the six rounds of golf that awaited him across the pond in Scotland. That would be six rounds in nine days, and they don’t allow carts over there.

If you know anything about the origins of golf, then you have likely heard of St Andrews. It is considered to be the home of golf, which was first played on the links at St Andrews way back in the early 15th century. The Scottish people are proud of their golf. They are responsible for many of the innovations that have shaped the game. According to http://www.thebackninegolf.com, the name golf came from the Dutch word “goff” or “gouff,” which meant “club.” Somewhere along the line, that strong Scottish dialect transformed the word to our present-day “golf.”

Jesse and Bob warming up

Okay, enough of the history, by now you know that playing at St Andrews is a big deal for a devout golfer. Even those who consider themselves duffers would like to walk this course. Yes, walk. Remember, there are no carts allowed. It is important to recognize that there are more than golfers and tagalongs like my daughter-in-law, Dacia, and I, who walked the course with our guys. There are people taking a stroll. It is almost as much a public park as it is a golf course.

For the life of me, I don’t know why one would take their walk on the course, even as lovely as it is. You are taking your life in your hands out there. There are signs posted to turn your back to the incoming shot and shield your head when you hear the word, “Fore” – kind of like the drills we had as kids in the 60s where you would get under your desk to avoid being destroyed by nuclear attack.

If your ball lands in this hazard, you are officially in Hell Bunker.

You often hear caddies yelling, “Fore,” in warning to beware of approaching golf balls – everyone doesn’t hit the green, you know! The first time I heard a group of caddies yelling, “Fore!” it took me back. There was palpable panic in their layered voices, and it was not easy to discern from where the ball was coming. We heard the shouts at least a dozen times. I guess it’s exhilarating unless you get hit by an errant ball.

Speaking of exhilarating, I was so happy to walk the course with our foursome of Bob, our son Jesse, and teenage grandsons Manning and Winston, who consistently give Bob and Jesse a run for their money. The four of them have played together on many courses but none have the significance and history of this one.  I loved watching Bob with his boys. It was truly moving to me, and every time I talk about it, I tear up. Such a privilege. Thanks to God for allowing it!

Dacia and I walked along the 20,000 steps with them and took it all in – including about 150 pictures, only a few of which I’ll share with you. We were there for the history, hazards, short putts, long putts, missed putts, great drives, and one ball lost in a stream. It was all magic.

Bob said those wispy grasses grabbed the club and made it tough to get out, but Winston had no trouble.

Bob and his caddy planning an exit strategy from the rough.

The caddies couldn’t have been paired better. Bob’s was a friendly guy, probably approaching 60, who has a handicap of 4.5. He did mention that it had been 2-3, but he was okay with it being higher as that gave him more opportunities to win money when he played with his friends. Jesse’s caddy was likely in his mid-40s and kind of a funny smarty pants but also very friendly. He joked with Jesse as he guided him through the course. The boys both had college students. All four of them were excellent.

Jesse and his caddy

The culmination of the round began on Hole 17 as they had to drive their balls over a roof, which is just what you do and has always been done.

Golfers are supposed to drive their shot over the black roof. There is evidence of balls falling short!

Then the required picture on the Swilcan Bridge over to the 18th green. The bridge was built about 700 years ago to help get livestock over the stream. You can still see markers dividing golf and livestock areas.

We were there!

Manning almost on the green

Winston and his caddy

Jesse getting ready to drive

My sweetie!

As we approached the 18th hole, the fences along the border of the course were lined with spectators. Being watched so closely by groups of men leaning on the fence, swigging their whiskey or beer could be a wee bit daunting. Thankfully, all our guys made great drives, got to the green and either parred or birdied. These were long putts, so the crowd went wild when they made them!

Smiles and congratulations all around.

Manning won the day!

Aye, it was a perfect day. It left us adults a wee bit puggled (tired out), but the kids were fine. Surely ’twas a memorable and typically cool and windy day of golf in Scotland! Thankful we could be there together.

We’ll Leave a Light on For You!

Bob and I returned from Scotland last week. (I’ll tell you about that trip next time.) Of course, I was jetlagged. I’m not sure I fully recovered from being jetlagged after arriving in Scotland. That wasn’t aided by getting a cold midway through our trip or by having a bout of food poisoning while there. (That is what I get for choosing to go healthy and ordering the fish.) I slept through most of two days, but it was cloudy and drizzly, and since Bob was out golfing, it was okay with me. Other than that, it was a good trip!

Somewhere in the middle of my first night home, I thought about Tom Bodett. He had a pleasant voice and for years was the spokesman for Motel 6. His famous, “We’ll leave a light on for you,” sounded welcoming, like happy expectations of family coming to visit. Thinking about him would be weird in and of itself. But on that first night home, the lamp on my nightstand kept turning on with no prompt from me. It wasn’t too accommodating about me turning it off either. My gentle touch was turning into temptation to throw said lamp across the room, but I wouldn’t do that because I’m a mature adult.

This isn’t a new phenomenon. We bought two of these lamps a couple of years ago. We wanted touch-control lamps by our bedsides so we wouldn’t strain ourselves reaching halfway up the lamp for a switch. We also liked that they had USB ports for charging our phones. It was like being in a nice hotel (not a Motel 6).

Since being in Scotland, I had grown accustomed to late sunsets (after 10 PM) and early sunrises (around 4:30). But that did not prepare me for having a light repeatedly shone in my eyes from ten inches away.

The next morning, I said to Bob, “My stupid lamp came on four times last night!”

He replied, “Make that five times. Once you were so out of it, I had to walk around the bed to turn the lamp off.”

This can be what happens when you value an Amazon bargain too much. You don’t get what you bargained for! As soon as my energy returns and I know what time zone I’m in, I’m heading to Home Goods to do a little lamp shopping. I think this time the touch control won’t be as important as having the lamp under my control. Also, if you’re in the market for some prankster lamps, they’ll be by the curb on Friday.

Zurich

Last stop: Zurich! We arrived at the lovely Schweizerhof Zurich a couple of hours early for our check-in. The Swiss know how to welcome you even when your room is not ready. They provided warm washcloths to wipe our weary brows and hands.

It’s also not too early for Prosecco! Prost!

Our luggage was corralled and would appear in our rooms later in the afternoon, but now it was time, once again, to find food.

Eating times were more flexible than in Italy, but all restaurants were packed. We waited quite a while to be seated at yet another Italian restaurant, which was okay with us. Then, on to the city.

Zurich is a bit fancier than Lucerne. Food and wine were more expensive than in Italy. The city has a feel of old Switzerland mixed with a bit of modern, like this unique fountain.

Busy streets
Things for humans

Bob and I walked up many steps to view the city from a lovely park above it all – a great vantage point. In my earlier post about Switzerland, I mistakenly posted some Zurich photos as from Lucerne. Sorry for the inaccuracy. These are the steps we climbed for our views of the city.

Worth the steps for the great views.

European rooftops are a favorite.

We were happy to have made the hike.

There are a lot of bikes in Europe, and you have to store them somewhere. We passed this bike shed on our walk back down to street level.

If we had known about the stork-themed hotel, I’d have flocked to it.

Notice the stork on the roof, too.

By now we really wanted a good burger. We found a rooftop restaurant with good reviews, and it had to be accessed through a department store. They were able to seat us, but we had to literally crawl over a couple people to get to our noisy seats. After three minutes, we crawled back over the same people. It was so loud in there that we felt our age, but we still had it in us to practically leap over other guests to escape.

Like an oasis in the dessert, we spotted a burger place – the Black Tap Craft Burgers and Beer. We got in the queue and immediately a line formed behind us. Maybe they followed us from the rooftop! Either way, we barely beat the crowd! I guess I was too hungry to take a picture, but the burger was top notch.

The inside was interesting – modern with a young vibe. We were probably the oldest people in there.

When we got back to our hotel room, room service rang our doorbell (that’s right, it had a doorbell). A bellman with a cart full of more types of Swiss chocolate than I could count greeted us offering whatever our hearts desired. Such a sweet way to end our time in Switzerland.

View of the train station from our hotel window.
Time to go home. Thankful and only slightly weary!

Cold, and Snow, and Rain – Oh, My! (Europe Post #7)

They know how to do coffee shops and bakeries in Europe. Our first full day in Lucerne had us fortifying ourselves before our bus trip first to Interlaken and then farther up the mountain to Grindelwald.

Grindelwald, at an elevation of almost 3400 feet, is where winter and spring fought for dominance. It seemed to me that winter was winning, so this was the day that I donned the most layers of apparel. I wore a t-shirt, covered by a pull-over sweater, covered by a warm blazer, and topped off with a down jacket. My wool socks and soccer-fan beanie hat from Como, plus recently purchased gloves made the outside bearable. For a short time. The date was April 23.

Grindelwald was beautiful. I braved the cold instead of viewing winter from the vantage point that I prefer – inside! We were snowed upon while there. It seemed best to forego eating al fresco.

We made new friends. I assume this guy had frozen to death – the one on the left. Bob is shivering on the right.

Interlaken, at 1873 ft of elevation, was more of a 50/50 split between winter and spring. The rain made it feel cooler, but we still wandered the streets and enjoyed the flowers.

The wisteria alone was worth the walk.

I’m not a fan of mushrooms, but when combined with gnomes it’s a pretty cute addition to a garden.

Interlaken had more to offer than flowers. This is such a clever lending library (translates to Open Bookcase). You can take a book (nimm ein buch) or bring a book.

The perfect way to warm up before the bus ride down the mountain – hot chocolate, Swiss style!

Goodbye snow and conflicting weather.

Switzerland

Traveling on a train is the epitome of why digital photos are better than that old 35mm film. I will spare you the entire contents of my album “Bad Pictures Through Train Windows.” It is an extensive collection that reminds me to be in the moment rather than try to capture the moment. Life is a blur, especially on a train.

There are a few shots that are worthy of sharing, for instance my friend, Debi (with Tom), also attempting to capture the moment through her train window as we left Italy and entered Switzerland. It’s a compulsion when surrounded by beauty; but especially when winter invades your springtime trip and when you’re from Florida where winter would be a warm day compared to what we were currently experiencing.

I loved every minute of the trip. The trains were very comfortable, perhaps that had something to do with riding first class. (Thanks, Bob.) After driving the roads of Tuscany for five days, we all enjoyed leaving the driving to somebody else.

Lucerne, our first destination in Switzerland, was adorable. Our hotel especially typified what I thought a Swiss hotel should look like.

Wilden Mann translates to wild husband, so we found the right place. There’s nothing quite as wild as four retired husbands traveling through Europe with their wives. You can decide if that is sarcasm or a hidden truth.

Cozy, warm hotel lobby

After settling in, food was the first order of business. This is traditional Swiss food – macaroni and cheese with a side of applesauce. I ordered it as it was easy. I didn’t need Google Translate to figure that one out. In this part of Switzerland, German is widely spoken. The applesauce was a weird accompaniment.

Despite the cold and rainy weather, we hit the streets. When our group first considered Lucerne as a destination, Ann, one of the primary planners of the trip, had shared that there was an old, covered wooden footbridge worth seeing in Lucerne. She had to endure the teasing that followed her suggestion that we go see an old footbridge. Initially we did not think that an old bridge would be a main attraction, but we were wrong.

The Kapellbrucke (chapel bridge) crosses the Reuss River and if we had wanted to avoid crossing it, that would have been difficult. I had wondered if it would be hard to find, but we rounded a corner and there it was in all its old glory (not to be confused with Old Glory).

The bridge has triangular-shaped paintings set under the trusses along the ceiling of the bridge. These date back to the 17th century. This is the oldest wooden covered bridge in Europe and the world’s oldest truss bridge. It also is the symbol of the city of Lucerne, so it’s a big deal.

There are also lovely views along the way. It’s worth noting that the bridge on which we stood had been crossed by more generations of people than my math skills could calculate. Like I’ve said before, they know how to do old in Europe.

This is my favorite view of the river.

Lucerne offers great breakfasts. This is traditional Swiss breakfast. The bread was soft and fresh. The fruit and cheese were yummy, but the meats reminded me of the lunch meat I grew up on – a little fatty. I was surprised to get fresh orange juice – just like home!

The pharmacy near our hotel felt like stepping back in time.

We walked through the city to visit the Lion Monument. The Monument, which is in a lovely English garden, was unveiled in 1821. It was designed in Rome and carved in the rock face at its present location. It stands in commemoration of the events in Paris in August 1792 where an angry throng stormed the Tuileries and killed hundreds of Swiss guardsmen who were serving King Louis XVI.

Regardless of political views, the artwork is to be admired. The way it’s situated in the garden drew Bob and I to slow down, sit, and enjoy this beautiful spot. A bonus was listening to the local birds and identifying them on our Merlin Bird ID app. (A little bird watching is always in order.) It took 23 months to carve the lion. The expression on his face reflected the anguish of the Swiss people.

Lucerne is one of the most beautiful cities I’ve ever visited. Look at these pictures and see if you don’t agree.

Five out of six people really like fondue and it’s a must in Switzerland.

Debi was pretty excited.

I enjoyed potato and leek soup.

The view from the restaurant. Also, a birding opportunity. (The one that got away.)

Side-stepping to Zurich for a moment – Bob and I ventured up many steps for a view from the old town. While there I made friends with some ducks. (This is an updated post because the next 3 photos are actually in Zurich, and while you readers may not care, I’m fixing it for my future sanity.)

Zurich

Zurich

He quacked me up, also in Zurich.

Since I ate a light lunch (in Lucerne – sorry for bouncing around), it was time to eat again. Oh, boy! Ravioli all kinds of ways with a light buttery sauce.

These were my choices.

Ravioli’s reputation has skyrocketed for me since discovering how it should be done.

At the end of the day, I started missing some of the comforts of home – like being able to wash my feet in the shower.

We’ll go home soon enough. Next time I’ll take you on a side trip up the Swiss mountains.

Cold in Como

Our first day in Como was cold (by Florida standards for sure) and add to that a 25mph wind; and we decided to forego boating on beautiful Lake Como. Too choppy, too chilly! The best option for us was taking the funicular up the side of the steep hill to Brunate, a lovely Italian village.

The funicular was completed in 1894. Since spending time in Europe, that didn’t even seem old anymore. On exiting the funicular, we were treated to lovely views. My breath was taken away by the view of the Alps, but the surroundings we were standing in were lovely as well. This was Brunate.

Hotel in Brunate

The beautiful, blue sky was compensation for the cold temperatures, though I did check the shop for a beanie style hat to keep my ears warm. It was to no avail as it was supposed to be spring. This was not the first time that I had inquired as to the normalcy of the winter-like temperatures. And this was not the first time that I was told there is a saying in Italy – “April does what it wants!” No worries, I would be warm again when I got back to Florida.

There was a man making bracelets set up in an out-of-the-way booth. He told me the bracelets were made of Murano glass, which he described as “important” to Italy, particularly Venice. He also was selling lace doilies. These he described as important as well, especially since his mother made them. It’s a treat to chat with local people and hear them talk about their country. I love the way the Italians use the word “important” to describe things dear to their heritage.

The funicular only goes so far up the hill, but we hired a taxi/jeep to take us to the top. We figured we’d ride up and walk down, but after our ride along the steep, narrow streets, we thought better of it, a decision our knees would thank us for!

Once we got out of the jeep, there were stairs waiting for us to go to the lighthouse at the very top of the hill (note, for Floridians this is like mountain climbing).

Up, up, up we went, and we were rewarded with the best views of the Alps. Whatever breath hadn’t been taken away before, was surely gone as we feasted our eyes on the Swiss Alps.

All this fresh air and walking really stirs up an appetite. We had choices. Perhaps the Osteria Bar and Pizzeria, which was attached to a church or was that vice versa.

That was almost novel enough to have us eat there, but we opted for a place with a better view. We were glad we did. Our first course was bruschetta three ways. We order bruschetta often, both at home and abroad. This was the best we ever had. Our favorite had caramelized onions atop. Magnifica! We followed that with soup in keeping with our pursuit of warmth. Yum!

Back at sea level (or lake level), before we joined our friends for dinner and wine, I found a pop-up soccer souvenir stand and bought a beanie. My ears were grateful. Now I looked like a fan of the Italian national team. That works for me.

On Sunday some of us ventured out to church. I wasn’t sure I wanted to, because a service in a language I could not understand didn’t sound worthy of rising early. Let me tell you, though, you never know what you may experience, and this was worth it. Danny, who is also the founding pastor of our church and like our other traveling companions, a friend for over 40 years, wanted to check out the churches. We split again, with some sleeping in and some of us going to the 10:00 service at the Como Duomo, at least we went for the beginning of it. Listening to the pipe organ is amazing in any language.

The previous day during a walk we had found an Evangelical church. The service there began at 10:30, so we did some church hopping. This church was modest in stature. The people were friendly and several spoke English. We were greeted warmly and every person we met was excited to introduce us to the pastor. She is originally from Germany, but she speaks English well. So well, in fact, that she preached the service in Italian and English. We weren’t sure if that was for our benefit or not, but it was very moving that she would go to the trouble.

They handed out song booklets like what we had in the church we were going to back in the 1980s and 90s. It was a joy to see some of the old songs printed in English and Italian. The church was close to Presbyterian in doctrine, and their service that day was abbreviated as they had a meeting going on after the service, so we were there on the perfect day. Gloria a Dio!

It was an afternoon of meandering around Lake Como and imagining what it would be like if it weren’t so windy! We made the best of it and totally enjoyed being immersed in Como. Our hotel was situated in Piazza Camillo Benso Conte di Cavour (piazza translates to square). We happened upon a band finishing up a concert. They were playing Beat It by Michael Jackson.

There was lots of activity in the square as the band broke down the stage, including an alley of clowns that wandered onto the scene. (Yes, that’s what a group of clowns is called. That was new to me.)

Recorded music was being played in the background and we watched as folks boogied across the square while kids kicked a soccer ball around and Danny finally got McDonalds. After a while, you need a taste of home.

We were scheduled to leave Como and go to Switzerland the next morning via train. The itinerary was Como to Lugano to Lucerne. The hotel concierge informed us that we would likely have to deal with a scheduled train strike. They have them periodically, so to the Italians it’s part of life. But for us, this was alarming. We were told that we could possibly get out before it starts but we should have an alternative plan. Start and stop times of these is precise and they would last 24 hours or so. That was not information that comforted us.

We walked to a close-by train station (not the one we would depart from) and the attendant said that our train would not be affected. She even double-checked it with the main train station and told us we should be fine. Probably because of that pesky language barrier, we weren’t completely relieved. I’d say we were about 80 percent. Total relief wouldn’t happen until the next day when we hopefully boarded our train.

The following morning, we arrived at the Como S. Giovanni Railway Station, and it appeared our trip would not be cancelled. Nearly every other trip was canceled due to the strike. We were thankful as we set out on the next chapter.

Switzerland, here we come!

Arrivederci, Siena; Ciao, Como!

Our last day in Siena was a day of rest (and laundry). It was also a day to try out a different restaurant for lunch. We googled pizza places nearby, and I was thrilled to find one with a sense of humor. You don’t always see that on a website. This ristorante was so proud of their pizza crust that they claimed you would “go to Hell” if you didn’t eat it. Even though this challenged my theology, I was intrigued, but unfortunately the ristorante was not open – a problem I have mentioned here in the past. They keep different eating hours over there.

We did find a super cute place with a great view. I deviated from pasta and Italian meats and went straight for a steak. The word on the streets of Tuscany was you need to get a steak while you’re there. Also, when ordering, don’t attempt to tell them how you want it cooked. Apparently, they don’t like that. Leave that to the chef! It was delicious and the presentation was molto attraente (very appealing).

Other than lunchtime, we spent the entire day at our VRBO, Capanna di Elfo, which even though it translates to Elf Hut in English, we did not see any elves. We did see birds. Our friends and fellow travelers, Jim and Ann, are birders; and Jim pointed out purple martins as they flew overhead. That was new on my lifetime list, which is always exciting to me. However, the birding prize of the trip was a unique guy called a Eurasian Hoopoe. I had never heard of these, so I was thrilled.

One morning while getting ready for the day in my typical spot in our bathroom, which was by an open window which allowed for better lighting and overlooked the hill town, I heard a funny sound – like “who, who, who.” From Jim’s description, I knew this had to be him – the hoopoe, not Jim. Although Jim has a pretty fun sense of humor, so I could not be sure. When I finally went outside, I was able to spot the hoopoe. To add to that, Debi had been chasing him around the property and she took this amazing video. Thanks, Debi, for letting me post it.

We ended the day by gathering in the living room for a few moments of thankfulness to God for our trip and for our friendships. The next morning (Friday), we would say a sad goodbye to this chapter. Of the places we visited, I think Tuscany was my favorite of this trip; perhaps largely due to the accommodations we booked there. The Elf Hut was the beautiful launching pad to this exquisite region.

Bob and I woke up nervous the next morning. We had to return our rental cars in Florence and our trip two days prior was kind of a nightmare. We thought Friday traffic might be worse. Thankfully, this was not the case. There was still the getting-there part, but it was uneventful other than trying to gas up the cars, which proved complicated. We could easily gas up one, which took diesel so technically we fueled the car, but the car which Bob drove could not be filled in the same station, and there was no attendant – something we were getting accustomed to. After a short trip down the road, we filled our tank. We turned in our cars (hooray!) and walked the short distance to the train station. It was time to add trains to the planes and automobiles transportation modes of our trip.

But first, we eat. Another great Italian meal to fuel us for our trip to Como via Milan.

They’ve got the meats!

Just another cork project

Inside the Florence train station. Note the artwork above. It shows the clothing and hair movement as a result of a train passing.

I love traveling by train, but getting on the train can be stressful. We were thankful that we had traveled light. Wheeling a carry-on suitcase with a backpack strapped to the top is the way to go. We all made it safely on our first train. Addio, Firenze!

Connecting in Milan was exciting (translate stressful). We watched the boards for which platform we would board our train. It told us the train was on time, but the particular platform remained a mystery until the very last minute. We had, of course, used the restrooms while waiting, but we hadn’t thought to make our way to the center of the large Milan train station to ease our boarding process. Thus, we were very far from our indicated platform when they finally told us the one to which we needed to proceed. Right away. It was time to board.

The Milan train station was huge.

Canine traveler all gussied up. She was trembling with excitement.

Keeping eight of us together is challenging in these circumstances. As usual, Bob was in the front of our pack of travelers. I was close behind and heard him inquire as to which cars we should board to use our purchased first-class tickets. These cars were marked with a prominent #1, she told him. The first car was already packed, she informed us. We should go several cars down and get on any with the #1 on it.

At this point it was every man for himself. Six of us climbed on board about four cars back, but where were Danny and Melodye? We settled into our nice leather seats and looked around. The doors were closing. We texted and discovered our friends were slowed by rushing travelers who almost knocked them to the ground. In the kerfuffle, they lost sight of us but saw the #1 on the first car and wedged themselves in just in time. Sadly, they could not pull a Red Sea maneuver and join us in comfort. They rode the entire leg of the trip standing up like cows in a cattle car. At least we knew we would end up in Como together. It was a very mooving experience for them.

Como was touted as a favorite by everyone we knew who had visited there. We were looking forward to a boat ride on the beautiful lake and possibly visiting the much-ballyhooed Bellagio, the lovely village on the other side of the lake from where we stayed that overlooks Lake Como and was the inspiration for the Bellagio Hotel in Vegas. The cold front that came through two days earlier had us rethink our plans.

We got off the train in Como to find it breezy and chilly. We knew we had an 11-minute walk ahead of us to our hotel, but the conversion of minutes from English to Italian must have not been counted correctly as it took us approximately forever to schlep our bags along the cobblestone streets, including down a long set of stairs, mostly going in the correct direction, and finally arriving at our hotel, the Barchetta Excelsior. It was time to check in, recover a little, and find food.

We ate at a close-by pizza place, right next to McDonalds. We enjoyed a slice, some wine, and finished with limoncello.

We also found room for gelato, which we ate in the shadow of the Como Cathedral, or as is more fun to say, the Como Duomo. Officially it is (in Italian) Cattedrale di Santa Maria Assunta, or Duomo di Como).

Thus ended our Friday. What would Saturday bring?

A Florentine Faux Pas – Fun in Florence

The night before we were to tour Florence, the six of our friends whom we were traveling with let us know that they were enjoying the VRBO so much that they decided to rest there the next day instead of taking our scheduled tours. Everyone was understandably tired, but Bob and I decided we weren’t that tired. This was an interesting part of our trip, as it revealed the level of friendship that we have with these folks. We can tell each other what we want or don’t want to do, and there are no offenses taken. It’s truly wonderful to have that kind of friendship.

The thought that I had to battle was that we possibly broke our friends. Had we been pushing too much? We all recognized going into this trip that Bob and I tend towards more aggressive touring – a FOMO (fear of missing out) mentality. Our friends enjoy a simpler, slower pace that allows more rest and taking in the ambience of the area. Both ways are fine, of course. It’s all what you want out of a trip or what you need any given day. Still, I was sad that they weren’t going to get to see Michaelangelo’s David and the city of Florence. They were fine with it, so we were, too. The next morning, off we went just the two of us.

Before I continue, here’s a teaser. Bob broke two laws on our trip to Florence – hence the Florentine faux pas. In my eyes both counts were totally understandable and fell into the category of doing what you must while observing the intent rather than the letter of the law. I’m thankful he didn’t have to go to Italian jail.

It should have been an hour’s drive, but the traffic was horrendous, so it was double that. As we inched into the city, we were thankful for our friends’ sake that they took a restful day at the VRBO. It was exhausting.

We had mapped our way to a parking garage, and even at the swift pace of about 2 mph, we missed the turn as it was blocked by a panel truck. It took 20 minutes to go back around the block. The light into the garage was green, but we could not activate the gate. There was no one there, so I walked down the ramp and I saw one open space. I reported back to Bob. Having no other way in or out, Bob was forced to back up the steep incline from the garage with me watching from the sidewalk above/behind him to avoid cyclists and pedestrians. There are people and bicycles everywhere in the city.

When I reached my vantage point up the hill, I looked down and noticed that Bob was no longer in the car. This would have been more troubling if I did not know my husband like I do. There was no one around here, and our trip had been twice as long as we reckoned, so I had a feeling that Bob was on the uncomfortable side after having drunk a Coke Zero on the way. When I saw him get back in the car, we were both relieved. We’ll call this Faux Pas Number 1.

We knew that he could not back up and get back on the road from whence we came. That left no choice but to back up and drive down the sidewalk. (Faux Pas Number 2). Have I mentioned that he was driving a standard transmission? He was a pro backing up that incline and turning and driving down the sidewalk like a sluggish Mario Andretti. I walked ahead of him to clear the way of any obstacles. “Aye yai yai.” (Excuse my Spanish!)

Upon our dismount from the sidewalk, an angel in an orange vest appeared. He flagged us down and showed us where to park. It was valet parking, so we handed over the rental car keys not really caring if we ever saw the car again. All of this made us a half an hour late for our appointment at the Galleria del’Accademia. We approached someone in the crowd who looked official, and he helped us to join the next tour. We were grateful.

Our tour guide, Glenda, was lovely. The highlight of the tour was everything by Michelangelo. There is something about walking down the corridor flanked with his unfinished sculptures, which he carved in the 1500s. Michelangelo described these as statues that were within blocks of marble. He claimed he would chip away at the marble to see what emerged. That is a splendid example of how a creative person thinks.

As fascinating and beautiful as all of that was, looking down to the end of the corridor and seeing the Statue of David meant beholding another level of Michelangelo’s artistic genius – a true masterpiece. David is surely the piece de resistance of the Galleria.

Besides seeing David, the main impetus for us to go back to Florence was going inside the duomo – Duomo di Firenze. Our last visit was on a Sunday, and you cannot go inside unless you are there for a service. As you can see by the pictures, the outside is stunning.

The dome is the largest brick dome ever made.

I was surprised at the simplicity of the interior of this Duomo. It is clearly magnificent on the outside, so I figured it would be quite ornate inside. I was wrong. While this duomo could never be described as humble, it was in comparison to the one in Siena.

I was fascinated by these lampstands. People would occasionally approach them and light a candle. It gave a warm glow, as you can see.

While we lingered inside waiting for the rain to stop, I saw a girl of around 12 years old, who was staring at her irritated eye in the bathroom mirror. I offered eyedrops, but she only spoke French. I was hesitant to try to convince her since she was not with her parents.

As Bob and I were going up the stairs to the main floor, she was in front of us. I warned Bob not to touch the hand railing as I was sure she had pink eye. Her parents greeted her at the top of the stairs, and she was quite distressed. I walked over to them and offered eyedrops. Her father was grateful and wanted me to put them in. I told them I wouldn’t touch her just have her open her eye wide and look up. I put a few drops in and handed her a tissue. I only share this because years ago while traveling with these same friends I had a terrible case of pink eye, so I am gun-shy when it comes to being around it. I thought it was cool of God to let me offer relief to someone who was suffering like I had.

The rain faded to a drizzle but with the temperatures dropping, we were not excited about getting wet. We headed for the nearest restaurant and were seated immediately. (Thankful, again.)

Note the restaurant began in 1882!

Our lovely meal began with a starter of bruschetta accompanied by a glass of Chianti, which was recommended by our guide Glenda as the go-to wine of the region. I had risotto with asparagus and salami – easily the best risotto I’ve ever tasted.

The sun came out as we ambled down the street, totally happy with a full tummy and the warmth of the wine as we faced a chill in the air. Bob and I absorbed as much of Florence as we could before going back to our friends in Siena. We were quite tired and happy to find our car right where we left it. That’s a good day.

All the rain earlier in the day brought a cold front which stayed for the remainder of our trip. We enjoyed another Siena sunset before settling in for the evening.

Wine Tasting in Montepulciano

On our second full day in Tuscany, we headed to Montepulciano, which is about an hour’s drive from our Siena VRBO. But first let me share one of the most shocking moments from our trip. Danny, a member of our little gang of travelers, rose early one morning, before anyone else was out of bed, and captured this photo of a gorgeous sunrise.

The magnitude of this can only be appreciated if you, like Bob and I, had lived next door to Danny and his wife Melodye for 32 years and know that they are night people. I’d expect a good sunset picture, but this! What a delightful surprise and great documentation of the part of the day that I rarely experience. But now to our rental cars and another hill town.

Montepulciano is a magnificent medieval and Renaissance hill town. It is a delight for the eyes and the palate, especially if that palate is fond of wine. As is constant in Tuscany, there is beauty everywhere – from architecture to landscapes to the richness of history. They know how to do “old” over there.

We met Sarah, our engaging, informative tour guide as we entered Cantina Ercolani. Cantina translates cellar and Ercolani is the family name. Citta Sotterranea means underground city, and that’s where the wine cellar is. We followed Sarah through the passageways, and it felt like we went back in time.

Bob and I had been to this area before, and I was excited to show our friends Montepulciano. On our first trip here, nine years ago, we enjoyed tasting the wines of the region while walking through this town. I was especially eager to show my friend Debi, who writes the blog the Romantic Vineyard. She has a huge penchant for wine and I knew she’d love the experience. You can check out her blog including some of her takes on our trip here.

You could caption this picture anywhere between

Drunk on wine knowledge to Is it time to taste the wine yet?

I looked at those huge barrels and never once imagined anyone having to clean them out. Kind of like the top of the refrigerator or the backseat of a mom’s minivan, I assumed they never got their due attention. But, in order to have great wine, periodically those barrels have to have the sediment removed and that is a job for a big wine lover of small stature. Notice the bottom of the barrel where the faucet is. The wood looks like a cartoon mousehole with a locking mechanism affixed to it. That gets removed and someone crawls through the hole to extricate sediment from the barrel. Sarah is holding up a video on her cell phone that shows a man climbing through that hole. That is commitment to good wine!

These barrels are made from French oak. Smaller barrels intensify the wood flavor in wine. The glass on top of the barrels is an aerator. It is said to have been invented by Leonardo di Vince to keep air from ruining the wine. That begs the question – why do we let wine breathe after opening a bottle? After a few sips of wine, I decided it doesn’t matter.

These are white wine barrels and I felt like I needed to give white wine its due, especially since I am a red person. These are chestnut barrels from Tuscany. The white wine will age in them for 5 – 10 years.

We mustn’t forget about olive oil.

All that lecture-based education lent itself to some hands-on learning. That’s right – it was time to taste the wine. We were offered ten varieties of wine to sample, each paired with various antipasto to enhance the wine’s flavor. By the time we hit the seventh taste, though I hate to admit it, I was getting tipsy. Don’t tell my kids. They would be so embarrassed of me. I guess I had been so concerned about my stamina to do all the walking that I had neglected building my wine-drinking stamina.

This was about the point that I knew I needed more food and less wine. The food pairings were delicious, and the small wooden plates with a slot for the wine glass were adorable.

The fresh air did us good as we again walked up, up, up while taking in the views and doing a little shopping along the way. We were happy to find a place to enjoy a late afternoon snack as well, and the view was amazing as always.

Little did we know that this was our last warm day of the trip. Like Mary Poppins, change was in the wind.

One last parting shot. It’s been great, Montepulciano!