DAY 14

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I do this blog each morning from an internet store. On the way back to my cave yesterday morning, I had a stimulating experience. No, not one involving a lady. I heard music. The Three Tenors. Bellowing out from an art gallery store front. The name of the art gallery: Opera Art Gallery.

I went in. The artist/owner was doing his morning clean up. He spoke no English, I no Greek. However we still communicated. He had a bucket of water bottles sitting in ice. He offered me one and a comfortable chair. I sat and listened as he worked. I looked at his work. Top shelf. Oils of the Santinori landscape. Unfortunately, my art buying years are behind me or I would have purchased one.

One of my Greek coffeee drinking friends corrected me yesterday. I have some of them reading my blog every day. Even those who did not know what a blog was.

He said I was incoorect in how I portrayed the Greek women who dress all in black. I stated they were most likely widows. They can be, he told me, but not necessarily so.

Greek women as they age have the option of deciding when to go to all black attire. It is a distiction. a recognition. She has reached a particular state in life entitling her to additional respect.

Correction made.

I drove to another beach yesterday. Karami Beach. Again, the other side of the island. Again, I got lost as I did the day before. Eventually by merely fololowing instinct, I found it.

The drive was not without its rewards. There is so much to see on Santorini.

I am living in a cave. A remodeled rehabilitated one. Probably since the volcano oif 3,500 years ago, it was merely a hole in the cliff wall. Now a beautiful apartment.

I saw many caves on the drive. Old fashioned real ones. Holes in the face of cliffs and rocks. One to three at a time. Large openings. A person could walk in. All appeared deep and dark.

There is a No Name restaurant in Karami. Just like No Name Pub in the Keys. A steak house. I smiled as I drove by.

I reached Kamari Beach. Big! Long!

Kamari Beach is located on the north shore of the island. The water from the north is rough and cold. It was both.

Black sand. Soft and rocky at the same time. So soft your feet sink in six inches with every step. The water black also. From the lava sitting at the bottom for thousands of years.

I rented a chair and umbrella. Chairs and umbrellas in Europe are all in a straight line.

I looked to my left. I looked to my right. I looked in front of me. I looked behind me. No topless or otherweise bare women. The place was a family beach.

I have come to the conclusion that nude beaches are a tourist deception so people will travel to the beaches.

Nature itself was eye opening and lovely enough. To my left was a huge cliff. Maybe 1,500 feet high. Young men were diving from its rocks. Thirty to fifty feet up. To the oohs and ahhs of the young ladies below.

About a half hour after I arrived, a woman took the beach chair and umbrella next to me. About five feet away. 50ish and attractive. She immediately removed her top. Success! My quest had been rewarded.

As she lay there, she knew I was sneaking an occasional peek.

I went to get up off my lounge to swim. I fell. Like a first class ass! Tumbled over. Me and the lounge.

My topless neighbor came running over to help. What happened? Are you hurt? Just old age, I told her. I could not get up. Could not get my balance. She helped. Said take my elbow. We locked elbows together and she lifted me. With her boobs slapping me in the face! I had succeeded beyond my wildest dreams!

We became friends. Talked most of the afternoon. Lunched together at a beach bar. She is the owner of a ladies dress shop in nearby Messeria.
She agreed with me that Greek women’s apparel was outstanding.

We shared a grilled calamari. Note grilled as opposed to fried. It was about ten inches long and two wide. Four more inches of small tentacles at one end. Rubbed in olive oil. Absolutely delicious! Tender. Literally melted in your mouth. Unusual for a large squid tentacle.

Lunch was the end of my experience with the one bare breasted woman seen by me in Santorini. Sadly. she had other plans for the evening. I have neither cell phone nor whatever so we could communicate. I gave her my email and told her to contact me if she would enjoy dinner some evening. I had one condition, however. She had to drive to Oia to me. No way could I or would I drive those narrow winding raods in the evening.

The proviso may be a killer. It’s a one hour drive. Each way. No one, including me, is worth that effort.

Dinner last night at a small taverna in Oia. A light meal. Some cheese, wine leaves and black olives. All buried in olive oil. Followd by an early bed time. The sun had knocked me out.

A common sight are clothes hanging outside on a clothes line. There are no dryers on Santorini. The sun and wind do it. You can see clothes hanging everywhere.

Santorini is much like Key West in many respects. There may be two lovely renovated buildings and then a dispidated one. Two buildingsd from where I am living is one of those buildings awaiting purchase and repair some day. The inhabitants hang their washed clothes each day on two clothes lines a mere fifty feet from my eyes and every one elses. On the drive to Kamari Beach along the north shore, I saw many lovely homes. Large. Beautiful grounds. Walled properties. And sitting on the front porch clotheslines of wash.

There is no OSHA on Santorini. Workers work at their risk. A couple of buildings away from my cave on the other side of the wash is a building under repair. Two workmen. It will take 2-3 years to complete the renovations. The scaffolding wood and leaning. No hard hats or googles. One wearing sneaks, the other sandals.

Fari is the capital of Santorini. I can see it from where I sit on my terrace. It has the only harbor/docking area on Santorini. Four cruise ships a day come in and drop passengers off to tour Santorini for the day. Just as in Key West.

With one significant differnce. The cruise ships do not tie up to a dock or the island itself. They are out in the water and boat the passengers in and back. Called transboarding here. Transporting in Key West.

The bottom line. Why should Key West spend millions of dollars for a study and then enlarging of its harbor so the cruise ships can tie up? As I understand, most European ports motor the passengers in and out. Why shouyld Key West be any different? Especially for the type of one day vistors the cruise ships bring in. I call them polyesters. They buy only tee shirts and beer. Do not eat in our restaurants. Lets use some of those millions to attract a better quality boat passenger who might spend at a dress shop and eat at our terrific restaurants.

Santorini has no tee shirt shops as such. Tee shirts are sold but as part of an overall offering of shorts, belts, hats, bags, jewelry and the like.

My plan for today was to get a fish pedicure.

About three months ago, I read that there was a new way of obtaining pedicures. Place your feet in a pool of water and have little fish suck off the dead skin on one’s feet. The process excited me. I love pedicures. Santorini has a place that specializes in the fish ones. I stopped in last night to see. A large beautiful room. Lovely chairs. Transparent buckets loaded with tiny fish.

I figured I would get a fish manicure today. Before starting today’s blog, I googled fish pedicure. Glad I did! Procedure not healthy. Banned in California and Florida. Infections can result. Are resulting. Even a strep type infection.

Tomorrow a definite, however. I climb the volcano and look into its mouth!

When I arrived, I expected to stay on Santorini only a few days. However I like it so, I have overstayed several days. Time to move on. Sadly. More to discover. Mykinos tuesday!

Enjoy your day!

DAY 13

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Breakfast is simple.

Whatever time I roll out of bed, I throw on a tee shirt and pair of shorts. Then up fifty tortious steps. There is a small bakery a few feet away. All goods baked fresh a few hours earlier in the dead of night.

A little old lady runs the place. Works it. Dressed all in black. A widow, I assume. White hair.

I try to engage her in conversation. She ignores me.

Each morning, I purchase three different baked goods and a cup of coffee. All kinds of baked goods for sale. I generally get some crispy thing covering fruit, one with spinach and finally a small loaf of olive oil bread. I pick at the three for breakfast while sitting on my little terrace outside my cave. Overlooking the volacano, sea and boats. What I do not finish, which is most of it, I leave wrapped in the frige. During the day, I pick at the remnants.

Being on a small island half way around the world can make you feel cut off from the rest of the world. Especially when the computer is down. I use a computer at an internet store. Yesterday morning, every attempt came up labeled disconnected from the internet. I returned at 5 in the afternoon to do the blog yesterday.

I took the free time the disconnected internet gave me to walk. Oia is Greek Orthodox. Tons of Greek Orthodox Churches and shrines. People all over the place praying and bowing.

I visited one of the Greek Orthox Churches yesterday. It sets in the middle of the marble walkway behind my cave accomodations. About a mile down the way. In front is a huge plaza. Then an imposing white church.

I had never been in a Greek Orthodox Church before.

Dark when you first enter. The sun and eyes. I sat till I could see clearly. Beautiful! The only word to describe what I saw. Riches, also. Chandeliers of gold and silver. Wall plaques and figurines of gold and silver. Be clear. Not brass. Not a thin covering. For real gold and silver. A shining brilliance! The Greeks do not cheat their God as they honor Him.

Most visitors were Greeks coming to pay homage rather than curious visitors. Some locals, some foreigners.

They all burn candles. Or what I assume are candles. They look like bloated incense sticks. Light at the top. When lite, were placed with others in a stand. Then the supplicant would bow, cross his or her self several times and then bow again. I hope I have the sequence correct.

I have found over the years in my infrequnet visits to religious places unknown to me, that there is a peace and tranquility in spending some time in them. I felt it yesterday. I recalled a simiar feeling thirty some odd years ago at a Muslim museum in New York City. I sat in a small room with several Buddahs. I did not want to leave.

You will recall last year my blood pressure problem. Took a whole year to get it under control. My ankles were constantly swollen with fluid. I was popping water pills daily.

My ankles were big yesterday. First time in a couple of months. I carry water pills and potassium pills with me to use if necessary. My heart doctor said lay flat for three hours after taking the pills to get the best effect. I did. I lay for three hours in the cool of my cave on the bed. I would have done it outside down the steps by the pool on a chaise lounge. However, I needed to be near an appropriate facility when the need to expell fluid arose. Ergo, the bed with the bathroom nearby.

Everything is hills in Santorini. Even walkways and roads. Up and down. Everything is steps also. Too many. For example, fifty steps down from street level to my cave. To the pool, an additional fifty steps. What goes down, must come up. The reverse has generally been true. Ho ho! These steps are not normal. No codes here. They are different widths and different heights. I find the fifty steps from my cave to the road a killer. I have to stop and sit a few minutes at the top before proceeding.

Walking is impossible to avoid. The parking lot for my rented car is 1/2 mile down the road. An example of being compelled to walk every where.

Why am I boring you with this onerous walking situation? Because it is causing my belly to go down. For real. More than half way. I can’t believe it! I have no scale to see if I have actually lost weight. Whatever, my stomach is dramatically down and my face decidedly thinner. My heart, whether stronger or weaker, I do not know.

Come walk with me in Santorini!

Ate at the Katina again last night. The restaurant sitting on a concrete shelf beneath a towering lava created mountain. The daughtrer of the owner greeted me. I was remembered. So did 4 or 5 waiters.

I sat precisely at the edge of the concrete abutment. Another inch and I would have been swimming with the fishes.

I knew exactly what I wanted. Did not need a menu. I started with hot grape leaves stuffed with rice covered with oil. Everything is covered with oil in Greece. Understandable, there are olive trees all over the place. Red snapper for my entre. The fish was grilled and delivered to me splayed with the spinal bone removed. Boiled potatoes and cooked greens. Both buried in oil. For dessert, baklava. A rich crispy cake covered with honey. A double espresso. With the meal, I enjoyed three gins and one ouzo.

When the bill arrived, I was comped certain items as occurred with my previous visit. The waiter told me the 3 gins, 1 ouzo, the grape leaf appetizer, the espresso, and the baklava…..were on the house! This entire glorious meal cost me all of 24 euros. $34 American money.

Burbing is in vogue and socially acceptable in Greece. At the end of my meal, I inadvetntly let out a big one. The waiter looked me, beamed and said…..good! A Greek couple sitting at the table next to me did likewise.

Another beach day in the making. Today it is Kamari Beach. I have inquired and been assured no hills to climb. Park the car and walk directly onto a flat sandy beach.

Kamari is supposed to be a tourist place. Many restaurants and bars. I may stay for dinner.

I have also been assured there will be topless and totally naked woman. We shall see. No, I shall see.

Enjoy your day!

DAY 11

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Ho ho Yogi Bear! I am having a terrific time!

Donkeys have become a part of my life all of a sudden. First in Navarro when I discovered horsemeat and donkey meat were sold in butcher shops for human consumption. Donkey was viewed to horsemeat as veal is to cattle meat. Now donkeys in Santorini.

Before I made the trip, many told me to be sure to ride the donkeys up and down the hill. The hill that in reality is a mountain of lava.

I saw the donkeys yesterday for the first time. I was taking a walk along the other road. The road that runs between the cave hotel apartments and lesser accommodations. Actually the other side of the road is where the working people of Santorini live. Much like Stock Island is to Key West.

All of a sudden, I came upon eight donkeys on the side of the road. All saddled up and ready to go. What beautiful animals! I am a horse lover of sorts. The horses that race at Saratoga. Especially up close. Magnificant beasts. So too were these donkeys. Beautiful shiny coats. Ears standing straight up. Big bright eyes. Muscular legs. Very muscular.

These donkeys carry people up and down the side of a nearby lava mountain. On a path running along the side. Along a five foot wide path has been constructed 2,000 feet plus long. It consists of 500 plus steps. The steps of varying widths. A short 3 foot wall on the ocean side.

The ride did not appeal to me. I did not wish to be an ass on an ass. I was fearful of either the donkey or me or both of us falling over the wall. I raised that issue with the man in charge of the donkeys. I think I insulted him. He told me very firmly that no donkey or person had ever even fallen off the path into the ocean.

The path was made of dirt and rocks.

I had Nikos give me a ride in his car down the mountain.

The volcano sitting out in the water is like a magnet. It draws me to it. I have decided to visit the volcano in the next few days. I want to look into the opening and its depths. I want to view the smoke and sulphur and whatever else my eyes can see.

The volcano is not too high. Most of it sunk into the sea. So I should be able to walk to the top.

There is an added attraction. There are springs periodically spraying water and smoke. Baths from the emissions are available on site. I want to bathe in these waters. Supposedly healthful, I will be doing it merely for the experience.

Sanrorini is the largest of the several islands which were born 3,500 years ago when the volcano had its major eruption. It is big. How large, I am not sure. Larger than Key West I do know.

The whole island has a mere 13,000 permanent residents. Compared to Key West which has 19,00.

Santorini is the name of the whole island. There are several villages and towns located on the island. I am staying in Oia, one of those towns. People are nice here. Just as in Key West.

Sociable, helpful.

I spoke of beauty parlor proprietor Catherine Risvani yesterday. Catherine owns the only beauty shop in Oia. One to a town, I guess. Called Hair & Soul. It is a beautifully done small place. Two chairs, two sinks, a manicure station and a counter. Two lovely ladies working for her.  Catherine gave me a manicure this week.

Catherine is lovely in appearance. A typical Grecian beauty. Tall, thin and blond. Hair swept up and somehow tied in back. Interestingly, I have yet to find a Grecian woman who wears her hair down. Catherine also has high cheek bones. Another trait of Grecian women.

The bill for the manicure was 20 euros. About $28 american money. I was out of euros. I asked Catherine if she took credit cards. No. So I took out one of my $100 bills and told her to hold it while I went to the ATM machine for euros. She would not take the $100. Strangers though we were, she trusted me. In a tourist town. Typical of the Greeks here.

Which brings me to Nikos and Maria. Proprietors of my cave accommodation. Nikos and Maria are around 60. Own the Filotera Cave Houses aka Filotera Villas. A superior accommodation. Consistent with historical Santorini.

They and their son Adonis work their asses off. They have staff, but work along with staff from very early morning to late at night.

When I first arrived and met Maria, she was in a dress and apron. Smiling always. She does not speak English. I no Greek. Yet we have had several conversations. Each of us has spoken our native tongue. We understood each other!

I figured after first meeting Maria that she was the typical Mama Mia. A dress and apron. Always cooking and cleaning. Always watching the grandchildren.

Was I wrong!

The next time I saw Maria she was in peddle pushers and a tee shirt. Directing the employees.

Nice people these two.

It was Maria’s birthday the day I arrived. She sent a piece of birthday cake to my rooms. Nikos picked me up at the airport. Nikos drives me where ever I have to go. And picks me up. Their caves are lovely and clean. Very clean. Take a look at them. www.filoteravillas.gr, www.filoteravillas.com and www.santorini.com/hotels/filoteravillas. These sites will give you a flavor of cave living. They will surprise you!

The second day here, their son Adonis showed up with a bottle of wine. He said it was from his father’s vineyards. A special brew. Please enjoy it. I did, the next day. A cross between a white and red. A distinctive special taste.

Yes, Nikos and Maria besides owning the cave villas also own a vineyard and wine producing facility on Santorini. They ship world wide.

Nikos and Maria live across that street I mentioned earlier. In a small apartment less accommodating than the caves. In November, it gets cold on Santorini. They move to their home on the other side of the island. When it gets colder, they move to their home in Athens. During the winter months, they generally take a one to two month trip to the Caribbean or South Pacific.

It gets better.

Santorini and the Greek isles are not the United States. Many amenities we are accustomed to do not exist or are not provided. Like my clothes getting washed and ironed.

I was warned before I embarked on this odyssey that such would be the case. I came prepared. Purchased shirts and shorts at Orvis. That special material that is light, easy to wash and dry. Generally requiring little or no ironing.

I wash my own clothes. For real. Easy. In the bathroom sink. Drop some dishwashing fluid on the clothes. A bit of water. Wash with my hands. Then shake dry.

The clothes still need hanging. Dryers are not common place on the island. Could not hang the clothes in front of my cave accommodation. It would not look right nor would it be proper.

There are clothes lines across the street at the cheaper accommodation. I hung my first washing there to dry. When I returned that evening, Maria came out to greet me. She insisted on ironing my clothes. My saviour in disguise!

If you ever plan to come to Santorini, stay with Nikos and Maria. You cannot do better. Their telephone number is 003022860 71110. Fax number 003022860 71555. E-mail Filotera@otent.gr.

Enough for today.

There is much still to share.

This afternoon I am going to a beach somewhere on this island. Where I am guaranteed seeing bare breasted women. And, if I am lucky, some bare assed ones.

Enjoy your day!

 

 

 

 

DAY 7

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Goodbye Athens!

Hello Santorini!

I am sitting in the most beautiful place in the world writing this blog. In one of those white caves on the side of a mountain. The ocean, islands and a dead volcano before me.

Santorini. But Santorini is for tomorrow. I want to share first my last full day in Athens.

As is evident from my previous blogs, I love Athens! Athens is easy to love, however.

I started my last day in Athens at a small outdoor cafe on a back street. Glad I did! The menu set forth a prosciutto and cheese toasted sandwich. It was cheap. Sounded like a Greek version of Cuban cheese toast with tomato. I ordered it.

I was correct! Two very thin slices of white bread without crust. Toasted. A slice of prosciutto and a great tasting cheese pressed between the slices of bread. Outstanding.

The hotel of hotels in Athens is the Grand Britannia. I stopped in to look it over. Magnificent! Decided to have a cup of coffee.

The Greeks do things in a big way. My coffee was served in the main dining room.

I ordered turkish coffee. Had never had it before. Will never have it again. Did not like it. Turkish coffee is thick. Your spoon can almost stand alone in the cup. That is how thick it is! Coffee grains come with the coffee. They end up sitting in the bottom of the cup. A good amount. It is not easy to drink turkish coffee without occasionally having to deal with the grains.

In addition, I did not like the taste. Try turkish coffee if you have the opportunity. You might like it. Different strokes for different folks.

The Grand Britannia dining room was elaborate. At one end there were two palm trees sitting two stories high. Palm trees in Athens? I walked over to take a closer look  The maitre de came over. Real I asked. He said yes. I said no. We had a language problem. He was trying to tell me the outer trunks were real and stuffed. The palms not real.

I figured I had seen the only palm trees in Athens. Turns out I was wrong. The rest of the day I saw several. Smaller than the ones in the Grand Britannia dining room. Real.

I was tired. The heat was getting to me. I decided to walk back to my hotel and take a nap.

As I walked towards the hotel, the air and temperature must have been just right. All of a sudden I could smell the outdoor food stands, cart foods and outdoor cafes. The smell was unique. The last time I experienced it was in my college days in New York City. Bronx and Times Square times.

I finally made it to the hotel and my air conditioned room. Television in Athens is in Greek. I know no Greek. I turned it on anyhow to look at the picture screen. Better than nothing! I watched Top Gun with Tom Cruise and Key West’s own Kelley McGillis. I watched it all. In Greek. I had seen the movie enough times to understand what was going on.

It was my last night in Athens. Still no Greek dancing and throwing of dishes. Walked through the Plaka area where I had been two evenings earlier. Stopped at the outside cafe where I had done my drinking. The manager recognized me. He gave me directions to the place I wanted to go. I stayed with him a while. This is pro basketball play off time in Europe. I do not know who was playing. I whooped it up with my friend and his friends. Our team lost by 20 points.

European professional basketball is not up to the same standard as American ball. It was obvious. I never mentioned it, however. I told every one the teams were great, Especially their team.

The restaurant turned out to be on the poor side of Acropolis and the Parthenon. Outdoor cafes galore. Acropolis and the Parthenon plus other smaller temples sitting up on the hill. A bit farther away than the restaurant I had enjoyed the view from the night before. Drinks and food seventy per cent cheaper.

I sat their enjoying the night lite version of ancient Greece. Then the music started. Greeks are fun people. Their country may be going down the tubes economically They are partying as the ship sinks. Good for them!

The other side of the mountain is also known as the Rockefeller side. Much of the Rockefeller Foundation renovation money was spent on the poor side. An interesting mixture of wealth and those not so fortunate.

There was music. All night. Two players. A piano board player and a guitar player. A singer. Looked like and sang like Key West’s Peter Diamond. Even down to the hat.

Dancing started with the women. All ages. Even into the 80s. All kind of dances. On some occasions, a man would get up and dance alone. He reminded me of a swan. Why, I don’t know. Just so graceful.

Every one smokes in Greece. The piano and guitar players. The dancers. Even the guy who danced. A cigarette was hanging from their lips.

No dish breaking. I was disappointed. It was outlawed several years ago.

I finally got into it. Ended up on the dance floor. Every one took pity on me. I was shown various steps. Within minutes, I was Greek.

Greeks are happy. They sit at their tables and sing. Warm, also. I saw many couples touching and kissing each other. Generally those 50 and older.

I had to hustle this morning. An early plane to Sanitori. I am here. Tomorrow a different Greece.

I cannot close without expressing myself on an issue. The Catholic Church and its attempted hit on the nuns. I believe the Vatican and U.S. Conference of Bishops are on the wrong kick.

As you are aware, the nuns have their own union type organization. It is known as the Leadership Conference. Some 80,000 nuns strong. And being women, they are strong. Strong willed.

A former spokesman for the U. S. Conference of Catholic Bishops issued a statement yesterday knocking the nuns. The nuns have come out in support of things like contraception.

He said…..”Does it occur to them (the nuns) that they might need some help?” He was referring to the fact that the number of nuns diminishes each year.

A nonsensical observation on his part. What of the Catholic Church itself? There are fewer Churches today that 20-30 years ago. Most have closed because there are fewer Catholics or fewer supporting organized Catholic religion. As many as up to four Churches have been closed at one time and combined into one parish.

Fewer and fewer those of the male gender are entering the priesthood.

It appears that whoever made the statement on behalf of the U.S. Conference of Bishops was in effect the pot calling the kettle black.

Interestingly, the nuns are also advocating that women be permitted to become priests. Threatening to the Church hierarchy?

Rome through the U.S. Conference of Bishops have told the nuns to stand down. To cease and desist. I doubt it will occur.

So there is no misunderstanding, I am a Catholic. A fallen away one, so to speak. Nevertheless a product of a Catholic education. Grammar school, high school and college. Also a husband at one time whose wife had five consecutive pregnancies in five years. We lost the last one. There was a reluctance back then for Catholics to practice birth control.

Rome would have done better to pick its battle. Especially when the Catholic Church is still dealing with its own problems. Like the Catholic Church covering up pedophilic activities on the part of priests for more than twenty years.

Enough spouting off for today.

Enjoy your day! Join me tomorrow for another part of fabulous Greece!

DAY 4

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I survived today. I finally fell asleep this afternoon for four hours.

I am sitting at the computer in the library of the apartment I am a guest at. It is a library as you would imagine from days gone by. Two walls of books floor to ceiling. Furniture galore. The room is not small. Furniture all antiques. The desk I am working at is the strangest I have ever seen. Strange only because new to my eyes. Different. Long, tall, wide, fancy heavy wood. A poor description, but the best I can do.  Old prints and paintings adorning the walls.

It is Wednesday evening. Normally, I would be doing this blog in the morning. However, I must be up and out of here at 8 in the morning in order to get to the plane timely. I am not going out tonight. Too tired. So nothing will be missed by doing the blog at this time.

I hope to sleep tonight. Last night and this morning were disasters. I even took a pill this morning. I forget the name. It is what is taken in the United States to reduce swelling. It also induces sleep. It did not help me.

I lunched in at the apartment. The housekeeper took pity on me. She prepared a light lunch for me. She cooked a fish. A whole fish. Actually microwaved it. In oil. The fish is native to the Mediterranean Sea. I do not know its name. The name unimportant. The fish delicious! She served me the fish and a fish knife. She said you know how to clean of course. I smiled and said, no. What would I know about deboning a fish and otherwise preparing it for consumption! She tought it cute that I was so inept.

I followed up the fish with a bowl of fresh strawberries.

When I was walking the streets of downtown Novara yesterday, I saw a chocolate shop. There were many. This one a Lindt. A Swiss company. The store had small thin hollow Easter bunnies. I love them! Bought one. Ate it as part of my lunch.

A couple of months ago, I read an article on Yahoo re chocolate producers. Lindt was listed as #1. The best chocolate in the world! I had asked Lisa to get me one for Easter. She still buys her father candy for Easter. She could not find Lindt in Key West. 

I have spent a lot of time in bed the past 36 hours. Not necessaringly sleeping. Trying to sleep. The mattress is wonderful. Hard. I love a hard mattress. This one the hardest I have ever slept on.

I inquired how so hard. The mattress is stuffed with sheep wool. Stuffed till the enclosure is at the breaking point. The covering holding the sheep wool was thicker than an American mattress and box spring combined. Big time comfortable! Even the pillows were so stuffed.

The mattress and pillows were not as down filled. The one I am sleeping on the rock of Gibralta!

I mentioned the other day my acoustical theory about how pedestrians avoid cars. I was wrong. As far as I myself was concerned. Five times yesterday I almost got hit. I never heard the cars coming. Someone had to pull me aside each time. My theory needs adapting to I guess.

I am anxious to share with you my cherry and strawberry experience.

At dinner the first night, fresh cherries and strawberries were served. A huge bowl of each. Both looked anemic.

The cherries were small. The red coloring dull. Most yellowed.

A large bowl of water was set in the middle of the table. Spaghetti bowl size.

One of the guests had picked the cherries that afternoon. He took his ladder and climbed a tree to pick them. A bushel full.

I noticed everyone was picking up a handful of cherries and dipping their hand full in the water. Hand and cherries combined. Why, I asked. To clean the cherries was the response.

Although the cherries did not look appetizing, when in Roman do as the Romans do. I did. The cherries were the most delicious I have ever eaten

The strawberries looked anemic also. Small. Dull red. White in spots. Sweet! I asked if any sweetener was added. The host looked at me as it insulted. I explained why the query.

I shop at Publix in Key West. The cherries are huge and a deep purple. The strawberries fat and robust. No comparison between the taste of the fruit purchased in Key West and that eaten at the dinner party. The artificial additives to American fruit adds to its appearance, not taste. Whereas the natural fruit served in Novara with no artificial additives had a fantastically superior taste.

The weather is consistent. Hot by day, cold by night. Notice the use of the word cold as opposed to cool. From humidity in the afternoon to three blankets at night. The weather is much like that found in our Adirondack mountains in the summer. Think Old Forge. The only way to avoid the three blankets is to have body heat next to you which, unfortunately, I do not.

I will be in Athens tomorrow night. Another world I am told. I have been advised to be prepared to dance syrtachi and bouzouki. I am sure I have not spelled them correctly. My mind is already filled with Greek music. I can envision tomorrow evening and its pleasures.

So much for today. My next blog will report on my first day and evening in Greece. As much as some of you may not be able to wait to read it, I cannot wait to experience it.

Enjoy your day!

 

DAY 3

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I cannot believe I have been in Novara only three days. It seems like a lifetime. Especially in view of my experiences.

Earthquakes still in the news big time here. Much destruction to Northern Italy.

I reported being in two earthquakes yesterday. Turns out it was three. Maybe five. Three hours after publication, I felt another one. I was sitting at the computer at that time also. I did not consider it of any consequence. After all, I had been involved in two already that day. Last night while watching television, it was reported that Novara had suffered two more quakes around eight in the evening. I never felt them.

Many dead. Much damage. Sad. The people of Novara spoke of the earthquakes much yesterday. It was like being in Key West following a hurricane.

Speaking of hurricanes, I was thinking yesterday whether an earthquake or hurricane was worse. One is short and the other prolonged. Both cause significant loss of life and damage. They ended up equal in my mind. Better that both not occur, however.

Earthquakes are not common to this region. So I have been told. The word on the news is that whatever problem there is in the San Francisco area exists now in northern Italy. A shelf or whatever and it is moving. Italian news describes it as a mountain rising to the surface. The scientists have predicted at least 70 more earthquakes over time as a result. We shall see.

Lisa got Skype yesterday. We skyped for the first time in the morning Lisa time. The grandkids had already left for school. Corey joined in. It was exciting to see them both. I hope I get to speak with Robert and Ally soon on Skype.

Around 5, I decided to take a walk. I rambled up and down the streets of the historic centre of Novara. It was a high knowing that most buildings were a thousand years old. The first floor the best quality shops. Top floors great apartments. By the way, people live in apartments here. Homes are considered too expensive. I do not understand. Most of the apartments go for $1 million dollars plus.

My walk led me to discover the Piazzetta Delle Erbe. Piazzetta means little piazza. I am learning.

In English the Piazzetta is the Little Square of Herbs. Back when, probably a thousand years ago, growers and merchants came from all over Europe and Asia to buy and sell herbs at this market.

Close by, I made another discovery. The Broletto. I do not know what the term means. It was the place where the first market in all of Italy was established in medieval times. Everything and anything sold. It helped the Novara area at the time to gain financial independence

The best was yet to come. The Partigiani. It is at the Piazza Dei Martiri. Partigiani means partisans. The Piazza translates to the Plaza of Martyrs.

I learned the story of this special place while sitting at an outside cafe having a drink and watching the world go by. Two gentleman at the next table engaged me in conversation. They spoke English. Americans are revered here. I am being treated with kindness and respect because I am an American. It was not unusual for them to engage me in conversation. They started the conversation with…..American?

Novara was occupied by the Nazis during World War II. Some of the locals were not pleased.They became partisans. Guerrilla types working as the underground. Five were captured. They were placed against a brick wall and shot by the Nazis. In full view of the citizens of Novara.

After the war a small monument was placed near where they were killed. A tree was also planted. It still stands today. The tree. By itself against a large red brick wall.

It dawned on me that the medieval thousand year buildings I have been speaking about were in good shape. I asked were they not destroyed during World War II? Bombs, artillery and tank fire. No, I was told.There was never any fighting or bombing or what have you in and to Novara. The Nazis walked out and the Americans walked in. The people of Novara were very lucky. Other communities in the area, such as Milan, sustained significant damage.

 

My walk took me past many fine stores. I was particularly impressed with the shops featuring apparel for women. The most beautiful clothes I have ever seen! Absolutely magnificent! Bright, shiny and smart for summer wearing. The thought struck me it would have been nice to have a woman to take into the stores and buy a new wardrobe for.

Remember the 124 steps I spoke of yesterday. There are not 124. I counted them again yesterday. At a time when I was not suffering from jet lag and a bad stomach. There are 68. Still a lot of steps for this old man!

The fefects of jet lag are still with me. I went to bed at nine last night. Did not sleep one minute. Finally got up at 5:30 in the morning to start this blog. I will pay for the no sleep later in the day.

Never got to Milan yesterday to view the Last Supper. The trains were out of commission because of the earthquake.

I cannot let this experience pass. At the dinner party three nights ago, one of the meats was a dark one. Deep purple. Sliced thin. Everly one was going crazy over it. They loved it! A bit of lemon and they ate away!

I had a few pieces. Did not particularly like it. Other guests were surprised I did not.

Yesterday similar meat was served to me for lunch. I again was not crazy about it. I asked what is this? It was horse meat! Horse meat is legal in Italy. There are specialty butcher shops that sell horse meat. And lest I forget, donkey also. That was it. No more of for me! I explained that horse meat was not legal in the United States for human consumption. My fellow diners were shocked.

The big deal today is for me to go to the bank. I have no euros. Only American money. The exchange process should be interesting. Is cash or a credit card required? Can both be used?

Stephanie Kaple is one of the loves of my life. She lives in Key West. She is known as the Island Shoe Girl. She only wears expensive shoes with high high heels. Looks good in them!

Stephanie now plays bocce. She joined the same bocce league I play in. She wears heels while playing. Not wise from my perspective. But that is Stephanie!

She writes a blog as I do. A recent one was interesting and funny. Take a look at it if you have the time. A short read. www.islandshoegirl.com.

That is all for today folks! Sorry for the length but there is much to share regarding my trip. Tomorrow I leave for Athens to start the Greece phase of this trip. Athens, Santorini, Mykinos and some deserted island. Five weeks will be spent in Greece. Then back to Italy for a while. Portofino and Morocco under consideration for the scheduled end of my trip. If I return. I am enjoying everything so much I might stay.

Enjoy your day!

 

 

 

DAY 2

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Jet lag is still with me. It hits suddenly and I am dead. Went to bed last night at 10:30. Woke at 1 and could not get back to sleep.

Apparently, I have been spelling the name of this community wrong. It is Novara. Not Novarro. It was easy to become confused. There are signs all over the city spelling this place. In typical Italian fashion, the name is spelled differently each time. I have it correct now, however.

I took a walk at lunch time yesterday. Once more I was impressed with the downtown area. It is referred to as an historic centre. Medieval buildings constructed between 1100 and 1300. Still standing in all their glory as if new today.

For whatever reason, Novara has been sacked and destroyed from earliest times. Even Attila the Hun beat up Novara. The Romans came. They constructed a stone walled city. The wall surrounded the entire city. The wall remained until demolished for purposes of urban development. Not twentieth century development. Rather construction of buildings such as I have seen. Buildings constructed between 1100 and 1300. The time referred to as urban development.

The new Novara was built on the ruins of the old.

I saw part of the old yesterday. The Roman constructed walls were discovered. They had been hidden for centuries beneath the ground. The Roman walls in small part have been excavated and are there for the world to see. I found the walls astonishing! At least three feet thick. Looked like poured concrete with outside coverings of stone. No weapon of the time could have penetrated the wall.

This downtown area is interesting and lovely. I walked up and down the streets open only to pedestrian traffic. Many people. Though not crowded shoulder to shoulder. I discovered cars are allowed. Those owned by the apartment residents. Makes sense. Otherwise they would have to walk several blocks to get home.

The cars came and went occasionally. Not often. Typical of Italian drivers, the cars moved fast. I noted that without looking, the walkers automatically moved over for a car to pass. The car was never seen. The people nevertheless moved out of way way.

I watched this wonder for a while. Then I figured it out. The buildings across the street from each other are very close. Ten to twenty feet. The road is worn brick. The noise of the approaching car is amplified greatly by the buildings and road. It is acoustical. The noise bounces off the buildings loudly. Pedestrians hear it and automatically move to the side.

The car drivers speed. Never slow down. As if they had no concern for the walkers.

The people are strange. They never make eye contact. I noticed this 25 years ago when I was in Rome.

The people are beautiful! No one is fat in Italy. The men must have 28-32 waists. I last saw 32 in college. Male and female alike dress elegantly. Even in  jeans. Most men wear jeans. Topped by a crispy shirt. Crispy is the only way to describe the attire of both men and women.

The people never seem to smile. I noticed this 25 years ago, also.

All of a sudden, I was hit by jet lag. I had to lie down. Rest. I was desperate for it.

I returned to the building I am staying in. There are 124 steps to the apartment. I counted them. Getting to the apartment is like climbing Mount Everest. I had to stop three times to rest.

I was with a group of locals last night. The husband and wife who own the rice paddies, golf course and castle on the hill were there. We found we enjoyed each other. They invited me out for a bite to eat. The wife spoke English. She had majored in it at universities in Italy and London. Her husband spoke no English. She interpreted for the both of us. The couple is in their mid 60s.

We went out for pizza. At a trattoria. Not a Pizza Hut or Dominos type place. A restaurant with tablecloths and cloth napkins. Real silverware. Clean.

We ordered pizza. Neapolitan pizza. Made with anchovies.

I was shocked when the pizzas arrived. We each were served with one whole pizza. Larger than a small and smaller than a large back home. How could I eat it? In Key West, I am a one slice person. Rarely two.

When in Rome…..

We dug in. It was very thin pizza. Crispy. I did not like it. The anchovies were baked into the mozzarella. I am an anchovy lover. But not served that way I discovered. Cooked anchovies were not to my liking. What to do. I ate it. What else. I could not insult my hosts.

They each devoured their whole pizzas. Again, I could not be the impolite guest. I ate all of mine. Horrible!

I noticed a couple of things in the restaurant. One was that every one drank bottled water. My friends, also. I ordered, as I do back home, a diet Coke. I asked why everyone was drinking bottled water. Because it was cheap, I was told. Much cheaper than my can of diet coke.

The other thing I noticed was that none of the people in the restaurant smiled or laughed during dinner. Strange. My table was roaring, primarily because of me.

Afterwards, my new found friends wanted to show me the golf course. We drove through miles of rice fields on each side of the road. They own all of it. They ship rice all over Europe, to Central America and to South America. None to the United States. I did not ask why.

The golf course was to the side of the rice fields. A nine hole course. Tees laid out differently if one wishes to play 18 holes. A nice clubhouse and several other buildings. The drinking/dining area warm and inviting. I was sorry I would not have time to play this trip.

They built the course themselves 20 years ago. The land was not suitable for rice. They wanted to put it to good use. Ergo, the golf course was born.

It was getting dark. I stepped outside. I could see trees every where. I could sense the area. It had the taste and smell of Fourth Lake in the New York Adirondack Mountains on a July evening.

YOU ARE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE THIS! We just had an earthquake! They had a big one in this area last week. The one today lasted about ten seconds. Everything moved. The chandeliers are still moving. Some of the ladies panicked. Screamed. Still yelling. Italians are very demonstrative. I just sat here and thought…..Oh, shit!

What a trip this is going to be!

Getting back to last night, I returned home with jet lag upon me once more. I fell asleep as I was being driven home. On top of which, I had a sick stomach. The 124 steps were not easy.

Some odd ball items. Nothing can top the earthquake, however.

There are three churches in the area. They all have bells. Apparently large. Each clang very noisy. They all go off on the hour. Fortunately, only by day. They do not go off at the same time. They must be planned. One church at a time with a short separation between each. It is like living in New York City by the elevated subway train.

Everyone drives too fast for me. Most of the roads are narrow, especially in the countryside. One lane. Not each way. Both ways, the same lane.

When an approaching car is seen, both vehicles play chicken to see who is going to move onto the shoulder first.

There is a Catholic church in Milan that has the Last Supper. The real one. I may take the train into Milan this afternoon to see it.

Thursday I leave for Athens. After this earthquake, I think it is time to leave Dodge.

Enjoy your day!

Note: While I was doing spell check, the after shocks came. Trembling. Chandeliers moved again. Someone just ran in to tell me TV announced the disturbance as a severe earthquake. I have been hearing for the past few minutes sirens. Probably fire engines and ambulances. Another person just ran in to tell me that the quake was a 5.8 on the Richter scale. What I thought was the aftershock turned out to be a second quake. 4.0 on the Richter scale. I must admit my stomach is getting a bit queasy. I am uncomfortable. My thought process tells me that if I must be in an earthquake, this building is a good place. It has withstood quakes, floods and wars for over a thousand years and still stands. Hopefully, I will blog you again tomorrow. I am not leaving you yet. TV announced all trains to Milan have stopped running. I do not know specifically why. I doubt I will be viewing the Last Supper this afternoon. It was further announced that a  thousand year old cathedral about a one hour drive from Novara collapsed. So much for my theory that thousand year old buildings are a safe place.

 

 

THIS IS THE DAY!

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This is the day!

I leave this morning for Italy and Greece. I will write you tomorrow from Italy.

I have never taken such a long trip. Two whole months! I am anxious to begin the venture. No, adventure.

Yesterday was busy doing last minute things. Packing took a while.

Dinner last night with the family. Fun, as always. Ally’s birthday is June 1. I will not be here. I gave her her present last night. She was excited. It was a game. I was not sure she would enjoy it. It was the right thing to get her!

Robert and Ally wanted to do something special in view of my trip. They have ice cream cards for Dairy Queen. They took me to Dairy Queen for ice cream.

Love them!

The next time you read this blog, it will be from somewhere in Italy. You will experience the trip with me.

Enjoy your day!

A ZEN MOMENT

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I leave saturday for Italy and Greece. Worry not, I plan on doing this blog daily from where ever I am. I will also be doing my friday morning internet show from were ever. The wonders of modern science!

Trip preparations kept me busy busy yesterday. Included were two doctor visits. I was looking for any marching orders regarding the trip.

Last night was special. Not because of the places I visited. Rather one of the persons I talked with.

Che.

I have not seen Che in months. He was/is a Chart Room regular. In fact, his is one of the two remaining holes in the bar for receipt ashes. For whatever reason, Che has not been frequenting the Chart Room of late.

Che is not a Cuban guerilla nor a Cuban expatriate. Though his name suggests both. He is a Jewish merchant from New York who found his way to Key West many years ago.

Che is very opinionated. Dialogue with him makes for interesting conversation.

It is well known in Key West that I generally press my own shirts. To be sure they come out correctly. No one in Key West does shirts properly.. Last night Che tells me he presses his own shirts, also. Ironing for him is a “Zen moment” as he described it.

Some one at the bar was speaking loudly. He used the word “awesome” as it related to some  beer. Che was disturbed. He said the only thing he considered awesome was when God walked out of the bushes and gave Moses the Ten Commandments.

Such is Che. A Key West figure. A Key West icon.

Dinner was at the bar at Michael’s. I enjoyed the house specialty. The veal chop.

I do not know the name of the barmaid. She knew me.  I was embarrassed to ask her name.

The reason I mention her is that she brought Marty up. Yes, Marty, you are remembered!

Marty and Che used to stand at the end of the bar at the Chart Room and argue. Over everything. Every one in town knew Marty. Unfortunately, Marty is no more in Key West. He has sort of retired to his home in Fort Lauderdale. He visits Key West infrequently.

I miss you Marty.

I start this morning with a dentist visit. Certain parts of my implants were defective. Defectively manufactured. They are being replaced this morning. Will this saga ever end? I had to wait for the shipment to come in from the plant in California. There will be no pain involved. The problem is time. I still have much on my plate that has to be completed before I leave for my European trip.

Enjoy your day!

NO NAME PUB / NO NAME KEY

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Sunday in Key West!

Did something different yesterday.

The sun  was shining. Finally. It was early afternoon. I put the top down on the convertible. Threw a baseball cap on backwards. Off I went!

My goal was No Name Pub. Some 30 miles away.

The convertible, the wind, the sun…..the best.

I arrived. Not many people. The off season. Sat at the bar.

The bar is high. The bar stools correspondingly high. Hard to get on and off. I did not fall, however. Ho ho.

I enjoyed a Philly cheese sandwich. I think they are the best at No Name Pub. Grandson Robert agrees with me. We have made a study.

No Name Pub is an interesting place. It appears to have formerly been a small two story home. Before and during World War II,  a whore house. Now a restaurant.

Afterwards,  decided to visit No Name Key. No Name Pub is not located on No Name Key. It is about a half mile further down the road. Over a long bridge. The Pub is located on Big Pine Key.

Seems confusing. It is not. Once you understand.

No Name Key’s claim to fame is that it has no electric power. No utility lines of any kind. This is roughing it. At least from my perspective. The people living on No Name Key have propane generators, solar panels, and I assume candles. They like it that way. The State of Florida is trying to compel the residents to get electric power. The residents do not want it. There is a new lawsuit pending by the residents to bar electric power from coming to their island.

No Name Key is a desolate place. The homes are not close together. Though the homes are visible to each other. Some large homes, small small ones. All weather beaten. It appears no one paints. Most run down.

All of the preceding adds to that strange feeling one experiences when they visit No Name Key. To me it as a cemetery grown up.

One has to go out of his way to get to No Name Key. Once there, he cannot wait to leave!

There is something lovely and beautiful on No Name Key. Little deer. No more than two feet high. The young ones even smaller.

I was driving through late in the afternoon. The deer were c coming out of the woods. There were literally hundreds on and around the roads. Traveling in packs. Gave no concern to my car. It was their home, their place. I was the one who had to be careful.

The drive home was a delight. The top still down. My head this morning has a large burn spot on the upper forehead where the hat failed to cover.

It was a nice way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

Enjoy your day!