DAY 42

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The honeymoon is over!

I return to Key West tomorrow. Monday, not Tuesday as I thought. Fortunately, Lisa picked up on my error. She Skyped me yesterday to tell me I was going to have missed my plane if I left Tuesday.

On a trip as I have experienced, days of the week and dates get screwed up. Intermingle. Are not important.

As a result of which, a person can miss a return flight home!

My today – Sunday – now changes. No Milan. No Leonardo Da Vinci. Instead rest and packing.

I am in Novara. Drove here from Camogli yesterday afternoon. A two hour drive. Thruways all the way.

Strange traffic for a summer Saturday afternoon. None. Just me and a few other cars.

It is the cost of gas and high road tolls here in Italy.

The other vehicles on the road all passed me at 125 miles per hour. Crazy!

The clothesline saga continues. Eevry town and hamlet I drove by…..there they were! Clothes hanging ouside windows and on front porches. Even here in Novara, a classy city.

Lisa Skyped me in the afterfnoon. Fortunately. Otherwise, I would have missed my plane tomorrow. Got to see and chat with the grandkids and son in law Corey. I could tell I am really missed. A nice feeling.

Last night was another birthday dinner. My Morrocan friend Miriam cooked for me. And several others as well. A dinner party.

We started with a good champagne. During dinner, Beefeater was substituted for me. A thoughtful gesture.

Pickies to begin. Too many to describe. All good.

Then humus. Not the kind you buy in the supermarket and scoop onto a plate. Miriam made the humus from scratrch. Ground the checi beans herself.

The entre was spiedini. Small pieces of beef on a stick. Miriam also prepared some sort of wheat dish mixed with very tiny pieces of tomato and covered with just enough oil.

There was a touch of Lebanese to the meal.

Miriam exceeded herself with the birthday cake. Made by her from scratch, also. A cheesecake covered with blueberries and gelato. Of course on top 77 candles. One big 70 years old one and 7 tiny one year ones.

Everyone sang Happy Birthday! Just like in the U.S.

I was pleased with it all. My special thanks to Miriam.

Today I have to get ready for tomorrow. I will leave Novara about 6 in the morning. I have a one hour drive to the Milan airport. Then many hours in the air till I set down in Key West just after 9 in the evening.

Enjoy your Sunday!

DAY 41

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I am doing this blog in Camogli each morning from some sort of travel office. The office provides internet rental service. The place is always crowded. However, I have not seen one person buy anything except me. Six euros of computer time each morning.

After completing yesterday’s blog, I took a walk. Down strange streets and alleys. The alleys are not bad. It is the stairs. Everywhere. Italians must have strong hearts!

I was tired after the walk. Took a nap. Ended up sleeping most of the afternoon away. It is very humid here. It contributes to my tiredness.

I found a Don’s Place in Camogli, Italy. A French cafe on the waterfront. Why Don’s Place? A tanqueray on the rocks was only 4 euros. The cheapest anywhere else in Camogli at least 8 euros. Many 10 or 12. And then there is Portofino where it cost me 17 euro for a gin and tonic.

The owner is a nice guy also. Don again. He spoke English. Was married 5 years ago in La Hoya. Knows Los Angeles and San Diego well. His in laws live in California.

Most bars give you something to eat with a drink. Generally a small dish of potato chips. This guy put out chips, nuts, 2 types of small pieces of pizza, green and back olives soaked in oil, carrot sticks and I cannot recall what else.

What a bargain to drink at this particular French cafe!

Dinner afterwards was with some people I had met earlier in the day. We dined at a very nice out door restaurant which jutted over the Mediterranean. Dinner was by candlelight.

Camogli’s beach is a horseshoe. To my left while dining was a hill. Some of the trees and some of the rocks were bathed in lights. I could see nothing else. Turns out there are hotels hidden behind the trees and the lights were provided by the hotels.

To my right was the length of the beach with a large Church at the end. The Church was all lite up. Beyond the Church, I could see the lights of Genoa.

My appetizer was cod in milk. I have no idea why I ordered it. I am glad I did. It was good. The cod was neither dry nor salty. The meat actually flaked off onto your fork.

For dessert, I had cannoli. Two of them.

Cannolòi must have been a poor man’s dish. I can remember my Mother frequently making them when we lived third floor front on Jay Street. She had hard wood rollers. Looked like hot dogs. She prepared the dough from scratch. Then stretched the dough around the wood forms. They were then dropped into a pan of boiling oil.

When they came out and were cooled, she stuffed the shells with ricotta somehow sweetened. They were good!

I had them again last night and remembered my Mother. Quite frankly, the ones I had last night were no were as good as Mom’s.

I happened to mention to the people I was with that it was my birthday. They bought my dinner.

I return today to Novara. A couple I met have invited me to dinner. The wife is the Moroccan I have mentioned previously. I have been told there will be a cake, also. This should be one great meal! The woman is a professional chef.

Clotheslines again. I am hooked on them.

I failed to mention yesterday that I saw the same thing in Portofino. Yes, very rich Portofino had clothes hanging out windows of very expensive condo buildings and private homes. Not as much as elsewhere. Maybe one or two windows or porches every 3-4 buildings.

I hope to get to Milan over the weekend. Other than flying in, I have not really seen it. There is a Leonardo Da Vinci painting that has been recommended to me.

Many have inquired where are the pictures? No pictures? There are a ton of them. I have two discs of 300 each.

My computer talents are limited. Getting the blog out each morning on this trip has been a task. Pictures too! No way could I have handled it.

I plan on issuing a followup to my DAYS with a couple of days of pics. I am going to try to group and label them so you can fit them in to the experiences shared with you.

Enjoy your day!

DAY 40

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Today is special.

It is my birthday.

Seventy seven years.

A long time. Who would have thought. I still remember my young years like yesterday.

My father recently passed on at 98. His father at 94. It appears the genes may be good. I hope.

The weather. I have not spoken of it in ages. Here in mid Italy, it is reported in the following fashion. There is a heat wave coming up from Africa. When the heat wave hits the Mediterranean, the humidity will increase. Rain is also expected coming down from the Alps.

I share the weather report so you can compare it with those in the U.S. Generally the same description wise. Only the names are different.

Yesterday, I finally made Portofino. It is as good as they say, if not better. Magnificent. Beautiful.

You can feel the wealth. Huge yachts. Smart people. High end clothing shops. Everything perfect. The buildings, boats and cafes neat and orderly.

Portofino appeared to me as if it were a finely mowed the lawn. Perfection!

The private homes on the hillside equally magnificent. Obviously equally expensive. Terrific shrubbery. All neatly manicured.

The negative with Portofino is that it is too expensive. Outrageous price wise. I had a gin and tonic. Seventeen euros. Roughly $20 American money.

An ordinary millionaire could not afford to live in Portofino. It is only for the very very rich.

I took a cab to Portofino. Decided to treat myself well. The thought of a train and bus really did not excite me.

The cab cost 40 euro. Not bad for a 15-20 minute drive from one town to another. We had to go up one side of Mount Portofino and down the other.

The return trip was not as easy.

I figured I would take a cab back to Camogli. I went to the cab stand. Four cabs. All beautiful. BMWs and Mercedes.

I asked the fare back to Camogli. One hundred euros. I explained I had only paid 40 euros to get there. They did not care. The cab drivers were polite, but adamant. One hundred euros or stay in Portofino.

I sat down on a bench beneath a nearby tree. What to do? I really would have been pissed off if I had to go 100 euros.

Then I saw a sign. Bus stop. At that instance, the bus came. I got on and made sure it would take me to the metro railway station in St. Margery. I probably spelled the name wrong.

I was assured it would. The cost: 1.5 euros. A deal!

I enjoyed the ride. A large comfortable air conditioned bus. Many lovelies in the their bikinis.

The bus dropped me off in front of the metro station. I went in to the counter. A ticket to Camogli, please. Three euro. I bought it. So far I had spent a measly 4.5 euros to return to Camogli.

The person behind the counter told me to hurry. The train was just arriving. I ran out and got on. One stop later I was in Camogli.

The train dropped me off at the internet store I have been using each morning to do the blog. The streets beyond are blocked off. Only pedestrian traffic permitted. A shot walk and I was at my apartment.

On rising this morning, I watched a little TV. No English speaking channels. I came upon the Wizard of Oz. In Italian. However, the songs/singing were in English with Italian sub titles. The movie was easy to follow. I must have seen it a 100 times already.

I have been enjoying breakfast at a little cafe on the sea. Tiny inside. Three small tables outside. Rosalie, sometimes Rosalia, has been taking care of me. A short thin woman in her mid 50s.

I told her today was my birthday. I was 77 years old. She started pulling on my left ear lobe. Seventy seven times. For good luck. She said that was the Italian way.

I explained how we spank in the U.S. She thought that was strange. I did not tell her that pulling on my ear lobe was strange to me.

How will I spend the rest of my birthday? Anything special? I do not know. I will take today like every day. As it comes.

An observation. Middle aged and older women dress well in this area. Nice dresses, suits and hats. Looking at them is like viewing a fashion show.

Enjoy your day!

DAY 38

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Good bye Courmier and Chamonix!

Hello Camogli!

I had a three hour drive to get to Camogli yesterday. It took four. Construction. Two of three lanes closed. For 20 miles.

I have been vacationing too long. It seems I have acquired patience. It did not bother me. Plus, I had the Alps on each side of me. Great viewing at all times.

Castles accompanied me the whole way. Even as I got close to Camogli. Whereas I said yesterday they were about a mile apart, they seemed even closer during the drive. The castles are exciting to see. All different. Except for location. Each on top of a steep hill. Churches also, of course.

After viewing so many castles and being aware of the fighting that went on between them over the years, I do not know how Garibaldi got the various kings to join in and create one nation in 1861. An accomplishment!

Clotheslines were with me also the whole trip. Even now in Camogli. Greece and Italy are loaded with them. It seems to be the only way to dry clothes in those countries. Clotheslines between windows and on balconies and terraces. Sometimes merely a rope between two windows.

I have been of the impression that there are no dryers because of the electrical problem. I have been asking the natives. They tell me no. It is because they prefer their clothes to be sun dried. I do not buy it. But…

Even million euro/dollar apartments hang their wet clothes out.

I suspect that if someone could invest a dryer that needed little or no electricity, Italians would run to buy them.

An interesting experience occurred on one of the thruways I was driving. Italian gas stops have restaurants and stores just as in the U.S. Not Mac Donald types. Better wholesome food. And anything else you can consider buying.

I had an ice cream. I was waiting in line to pay for it. A middle aged woman in a black dress was in front of me. She had made a 51 euro buy. A big buy for such a store. She told the girl behind the counter she had just became aware she had to feed the whole family in the evening.

The woman paid the 51 euros with three 20s. The girl checked out the bills. They use a machine to do it in Italy. No crossing with a marker.

The girl said the bills were no good. The woman got upset. I just got them from the bank, she said. She pulled out a large bunch of 20s. Tried to pay two more times. None of the bills good. Finally the woman paid with genuine Italian money.

Outside were two tough devious looking men watching the whole proceeding. She went out to them and the whole three got in a car and drove away.

The girl behind the counter spoke English. That is the reason I am able to relate this story. She explained it all to me afterwards.

Parking sucks in Camogli. The condominium I am using is located on the water. There is no parking on the water. Nor for a couple of blocks behind the rows of waterfront buildings. I had to park far far away. Then drag and roll my suitcase up and down little hills. Additionally Camogli is all steps. Reminded me of Rome. I had to carry the bag up the steps.

I find it amazing. Each time I am confronted by steps, they go up. Never down.

I am getting stronger. Six weeks ago I would have died. After all the hilly walking I have done this trip, my body is getting accustomed to it.

Every place I have visited has had a different flavor. As does Camogli. It is the Italy as I thought it would be. Old medieval buildings, steps, people chattering incessantly and loudly.

The buildings are medieval. Each more than a thousand years old. Along the waterfront, which by the way is the Mediterranean, they are six stories high. The first floor consists of stores and restaurants. Second through sixth floors apartments. No elevators in any of the buildings. Steep narrow staircases in each.

In the U.S. the higher the floor, generally the more expensive. Not in Camogli. Because of the lack of elevators, the higher up you go, the cheaper the apartment.

Of course, no air conditioning in any of these buildings. Open windows and fans instead.

Camogli is on the western side of Italy. Significantly above Rome. Immediately next to Portofino. There is a mountain on the sea shore separating Camogli and Portofino. It is called Mount Portofino.

Last night I ate in Camogli rather than run over to Portofino. I was tired from the drive. From what I am told, Camogli and Portofino are the same. Perhaps Portofino later today.

I had dinner at a sea side cafe around 11. Too late, I know. However, I was hungry.

I selected the cafe because there were white tablecloths and what turned out to be real silver and china glasses.

I was not disappointed. I had one terrific meal! The entre was lamb encased in ground pecan nuts . It was served on top of a bevy of cooked fruits and vegetables mixed. The key was the taste. There was an oil which appeared to keep the pecans attached to the lamb. Whatever, it was delicious. One of the finest meals I have ever enjoyed.

Greece was cheap dollarwise. Italy is expensive. Like 3-4 times.

I was tired after dinner. A bit bloated. It was after midnight. The area was still bustling. I went immediately to bed.

Enjoy your day!

DAYS 36 and 37

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I am back!

It is a question mark each day whether I will return. I failed to bring my computer with me. I am at the whim of internet stores and friendly people. One thing I know for a fact. Everyone in Italy is using old and sick machines. Each day is a task and a surprise.

I have been sleeping in Courmier the last three nights. Driving back and forth to Chamonix each day. The Alps are always before me. From the moment I rise to the time I go to bed. They are there on the drive to Chamonix and back. The mountains dominate the scene.

I would be remiss if I failed to make some additional comments regarding Mont Blanc. Remember it is 11 peaks on top of an already big mountain.

Mont Blanc defies description. I guess that is why I am back trying to tell you more about it. Words do not adequately tell you what the eyes see.

The mountain is high and tall. It stands defiantly. Speaks quietly. Says…..Don’t screw with me!

Impossible to see all 11 peaks at one time. Clouds up high. Block the view.

Trees cover the lower range of Mont Blanc. Pine. All the way up to a certain level. Then nothing but bare rock. Someone told me pines will not grow above 2,000 feet. The bare land is formidable. Then comes the peaks. Not just the very top. The top for a considerable distance downward.

When I arrived, some of the peaks had valleys of glaciers. Ice. One day later all the peaks were covered with snow. A significant dusting. Impressive.

Many waterfalls. They are streams running down the sides of the mountain. All over. Some a foot wide. Others up to 20 feet. Beautiful. They run in and out of the woods. You see it, then you do not. All of a sudden the stream reappears again.

The thinner streams were not running yesterday. They were frozen. Yesterday at this time (11 am) the temperature was 29 degrees F. At the same time 24 hours later it is 50 degrees F.

The waterfalls are attributable to two factors. The first is the melting glaciers. The other is that the mountain top is loaded with natural springs and wells. Below ground. They seep their way upward and add to the glacier spill off.

Yesterday morning, I had a unique experience. When I opened the door to the balcony starring at Mont Blanc, I saw a number of clouds. Some were below my eye level. Others at my eye level. Others above my eye level. All set against the green pines of Mont Blanc. A wow!

Last night when driving back to Courmier, I had another experience. Though one I have had before. Fog. Big time. There were occasions I could not see at all. Bad.

Moving on from Mont Blanc, let me share two food experiences I had yesterday.

The first was in Chamonix at lunch time. I went into a big restaurant at the main corners of Chamonix. Where all the world walks by. It was too cold to eat outside, however.

The menu was in total French. No English sub titles as I had become accustomed to elsewhere on this trip. I saw what appeared to be the word sausages. I have been eating many sausages this trip. All different. All good.

I ordered sausage. Pointed to it on the menu to the waitress. My mistake was not asking her to spell out exactly what I was ordering. Assuming she spoke English. I do not know. I found whereas many Greeks and Italians have at least a smarthering of English, the French seem to be above a second language.

I was served two boiled hot dogs and french fries. Not big fat hot dogs. Not long ones. Two regular sized.

I looked at them for a few minutes. And then decided, oh well! My mistake. Eat them.

I called the waitress over. Asked for ketchup and mustard. The least I could do was dress the meal up. She looked at me in shock. I knew what was coming…..We do not serve ketchup and mustard! We are French!

I quietly ate my boiled hot dogs and fries.

Dinner last night got screwed up, also. I was at what might best be described as a good neighborhood restaurant. It had been so described to me. I was told to be sure to eat polenta. It is the favored dish in this Alpian village.

There were only six entres on the menu. Each served with polenta. The only thing I recognized was chicken catecetore. I asked what polenta was. No screwing around this meal. Lunch was bad enough.

The waiter provided a polenta description. It was crushed corn. All mashed together with what I could not understand. He told me it was everyone’s favorite. Had me look at the other tables. Each had this heaping large dish of yellow stuff on their table. He further told me Christopher Columbus introduced polenta into this country. There was no corn in Europe prior to Columbus. He brought it to the old world from the new world.

I did not like the polenta. I was told to bury it in the tomato sauce. That is the way it is supposed to be eaten. I did. Better, but still not my dish.

The polenta alone cost me 12 euros. About $16 American money. Not worth it.

I am absolutely impressed with Italian roads and bridges. All appear in tip top shape. The Italians have also recently constructed a speed train from Milan to I know not where. A new road was built near the railway tracks. The road had to have 72 bridges. So the trains could pass underneath.

Italian roads and bridges are well maintained. There is a reason for it. At some point a law was passed that whoever built or constructed a road, received a contract to maintain the road for 30 years. The money for maintenance comes from tolls. The contractor charges the tolls. The contractor keeps the money and makes repairs as need.

A good deal for the contractor! Positive cash flow!

The Italians using the roads are not very happy about the 30 year thing however. The tolls are expensive. My two hour drive from Novara to Courmier had cost me 25 euros one way. The Italians are an adept society. Their way around the burdensome toll is to drive back roads. They know all the bye ways.

I think the Italian way of building and maintaining roads and bridges is worthy of investigation. Gets the job done! The job we are not and have not been doing for years. Our roadways and bridges are a disgrace. Forget maintenance. A pot hole per family. The cost is not a tax to be imposed. It is paid daily by the users of the roads and bridges.

It is probably a screw job either way. However, worth exploring.

A few words about Chamonix. Lovely! gorgeous! Exciting! People all over. Summer and winter. Great pedestrian walk ways. Terrific high scale stores. No tee shirt vendors. Very European. I sat several times having a coffee at an outdoor cafe and watched the world go by. It was the world. The whole world. Every nationality walking the streets.

I got to Chamonix through a tunnel. A nine mile tunnel. The Italians and French built it. Runs right under one of the Alp mountains. Cool!

Somewhere in the back of my mind comes a recollection of Mary Shelley and this area. I did not have the time to research it. Forgive me if I am wrong.

Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein’s Wife. A best seller at the time. She lived here in the Coumier area. Courmier was to have provided the background for the book.

Recall that her story took place in a castle. Castles all over the place here. Recall also the fog. Fog frequent here. Recall further the fog I drove through last night. The fog was thick enough not only for Frankenstein, but also Dracula and Wolfman.

Later today, I am driving to the Portofino area. The Italian Riviera. A three hour drive.

I will be staying in Camogli, a town immediately next door to Portofino.

The trip should be interesting. It is summer time and the area should be flourishing.

Enough for today. I am going to be thrown out this internet store. It closes from noon to 3 each day. In Chamonix, all the stores closed from 1 to 3. Siesta time.

Enjoy your day!

DAYS 35 and 36

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Between northern Italy and mid eastern France, computer/internet connections have been a disaster. I think it is because I am high up in the Alps. Whatever.

I could not blog yesterday. Today is a double header. Every word worth reading!

If I had been able to do the blog yesterday, my opening comment would have been…..The last 48 hours have been amazing! Absolutely amazing! Hard to believe!

Here it is…..48 hours ago I was in Athens, Greece. Yesterday Novara, Italy. Today Chamonix, France.

How about this…..Athens a boiling 90 degrees. Novara’s humidity a killer. It snowed last night in Chamonix and is presently 29 degrees Fahrenheit.

The trip caught up with me in Novara. The humidity unbearable. Italians have electrical power problems. Ergo, little air conditioning. I slept in Novara that one night with no air.

Fortunately, only one night in Novara. Then to Courmier. Courmier is the area in northern Italy immediately before France. I am staying a couple of nights in a condo there.

The drive from Novara to Courmier took 2 hours. The speed limit was 85. I was the only one doing it. They were passing me at 125 miles per hour. Each time a car went by, I did not see it for long, but heard it loud and clear. A long swishing sound.

I stopped at a super market before going to the condominium. Needed breakfast goodies. The parking lot was an eye opener. The parking spaces were all half the size of those in the U.S. The cars small also. No big cars here. I was driving a Fiat. Stick shift.

Italians pay $12 a gallon for gas. They learned q long time to conserve. We have not when it comes to cars. I doubt the American public ever will. The desire is for big and more big.

Courmier looks like a Swiss movie. Makes sense. Switzerland is only one hour away. Old stone homes. Hundreds if not a thousand or more years old. Stone with wood trimming. The stone is gray, the wood brown.

There is a lot of renovating going on. Huge cranes all over the hill sides.

Courmier is in the Alps. So is Chamonix, France from where I am writing this blog. The Alps are big. No question about it. I had never seen anything so big anywhere. Majestic.

Mont Blanc is huge. As far as the eye can see in any direction. Higher than anything I have ever seen.

Mont Blanc is not one peak jetting upwards. It is a series of peaks. Eleven peaks sitting on top of an already high broad miles long mountain. The whole thing is called Mont Blanc. One of the peaks is specifically named Mont Blanc. The biggest of the big. Four thousand eight hundred ten m. I do not know what the m means. Suffice it to say, there ain’t anything bigger!

Mont Blanc is beautiful. Breathtaking.

The condo I am enjoying was two bedrooms. The building all stone. Two private balconies.

My intent was to drive to Chamonix the first evening and have dinner in France. Only a half hour away. I was too tired. It was bed for me.

Courmier is a valley. About two thirds the way up Mont Blanc. I was glad I had jeans. It is cold that far up.

Many power lines run along and on the mountains. Italy has a power shortage. France does not. France has nuclear reactors producing electric power. The Italians buy much of their electricity from France. At a premium price. The Italians voted at one time to ban nuclear reactors in Italy. A costly decision dollar wise. Whether health wise is another question. I make the observation because France and Italy are so close. Any French nuclear disaster would pour down on the Italians.

The drive from Novara to Courmier was interesting for a number of reasons. One had to do with castles. So many. Each built high on a hill. A small one. Apparently making it next to impossible for an enemy to scale the walls.

The castles were about a mile apart. I recalled that way back when there were many Italian kingdoms. Each with its own king. They warred constantly. It was easy. They were each a mile distant from each other. One hour’s walking time. Less on a horse.

Churches everywhere. Apparently each castle had its own church. The church was an integral part of each kingdom.

That is the end of Day 35. I had intended to go on to the next day. Day 36. A rendition of my first day in France. However, I am too tired. I apologize. The trip is starting to get to me. I will pick it up here tomorrow. You will love the glacier and snow stories, the dramatic drop in temperature, and the high quality of Italian roads and bridges. And more.

Enjoy your day! I am mine. I know this is the trip of a lifetime and one I will never do again.

DAY 34

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I am back in Italy!

Flew to Milan and then was driven the one hour to Novara.

Humid here in Novara. Very. I can understand why Italians run off to the mountains and sea shore in the summer months. They have no air conditioning!

No air for two reasons. The cost of electricity is one. The other is that most of the buildings are so old it would either be too expensive or too difficult to air condition.

Which means I slept with my bedroom window wide open last night. I also had the benefit of two fans. Hopefully I will be on Mount Blanc this evening where humidity will not be a problem. I have been told the fireplace may have to be used. It is that cool in the evening. Makes sense. Mount Blanc is the highest peak in the Alps and Europe.

Flew Aegean Air again. A treat! Lovely young attendants, stewardesses, hostesses helping. A great meal. Only a two hour flight. Not much more to tell, except for my chat with two of the working ladies.

They are not called attendants or stewardesses. They are hostesses. The hostesses are all young.

I explained how it all works in the U.S. They could not believe men did their work and what they were called and who performed the work was an issue of gender discrimination.

As to age discrimination, they had never heard of such a thing. They were confident that no way would a mature woman be permitted to do their job.

A different country. Different thoughts and concepts. Interesting.

One thing did not change. Clotheslines and drying clothes. They were evident everywhere on my car ride to Novara. Just as in Greece.

I chatted with some friends last night in Novara. The issue? The euro. What else!

They find this present marriage of sorts between Germany and France strange. The two nations have been fighting for years. They were referring to wars. France generally got kicked good by the Germans. They were unable to understand how the French could now be a junior partner with Germany.

The Italians are really mad at the Greeks. with a fervor that did not exist three weeks ago when I left Italy. They feel the Greeks have spent Italian euro money and did it in a wasteful fashion. I find this amusing since Italy is third from the bottom in this euro crisis. It is just a question of time before Germany starts defecating on them.

I was early to bed. A tired day traveling.

Today hopefully Mount Blanc.

Enjoy your day!

DAY 33

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I saw something for the first time yesterday. Something never seen before by me.

Begging.

The real kind. Not a homeless person looking for a hand out on Duval. The homeless receive some degree of care in the U.S. A place to sleep at night, cots, showers, at least one good meal a day.

The beggars I viewed seemed to have nothing. They looked pathetic. Quite frankly, as a visitor to Athens I found it abhorrent that some social network was not available to help these persons. This is the same Greece that I spoke about on my international internet show several monrths ago. The Greece that was preparing to give life pensions to pedophiles. Life pensions instead of life prison terms. To child abusers. While those begging and with serious problems receive nothing.

What did I see?

I was walking on a main downtown street of Athens. Two blocks from the Greek Parliament. The street is only open to pedestrian traffic. No cars. Crowded.

There on the sidewalk was an elderly woman dressed in black. She was holding on to a small wheel chair. In the wheel chair was a 30ish man. His body distorted in every conceivable way. The woman holding one hand out.

A block away I happened upon a young man sitting on the curb. His legs were extended in front of him. His left foot was twisted dramatically to the left. He sat with his hand extended.

Then there was the young mother holding what I assume was her young child. The baby was no more than 6 months old. The woman was dressed in black. She had the baby in one arm and her hand extended with the other. Her eyes followed me.

Children 4, 5 and 6 years old came up and put a hand out. In the hand, a rose. They say nothing. Just look at you with big sad eyes.

Enough.

No one bothers with these people. Including the authorities.

A shame.

I had an otherwwise nice day. A manicure. The nails grow regardless of where you are. Drinks at the plaka at cocktail time. My manager friend gave me a bowl of cut up fruit. On the house. Dinner was again on what is known as the poor side of Acropolis and the Parthenon. A different restaurant. A terrific meal. I needed protein. I ordered an overflowing dish of all kinds of grilled meats.

Did I think of those who had less? Who were required to beg to exist? Yes. Did I do anything about them? No.

Today, I leave Greece. I feel like I have been here for ever. Time to go. I fly to Milan and Navarro this evening. Tomorrow night I will be staying some where on Mount Blanc. I will also be having dinner in France tomorrow night.

It is a good life. Thank you, Lord. There but for the grace of God could have been me on the street begging earlier in the day.

The Hotel Grande Bretagne where I sam staying has an historical background of note. Many events have happended at the Hotel over its roughly two hundred year existence.

Two that interested me.

I am a World War II history freak.

In October 1940, all guests were removed from the hotel. The government and headquarters of the British forces replaced them. It was World War II time. Then the Germans came. Their invasion was successful. The Nazi hierarchy took over the Hotel for their headquaters. Greece was liberated in October 1944. The Hotel became the seat of the new temporary Greek government.

Demonstrations occur.

Generally in the plaza accross from the Hotel Grande Bretagne. The plaza is in front of Parliament. Thousands come out to protest. Last year a demonstration occurred. The people came accross the street to the Hotel and ripped out the Hotel’s gigantic marble steps. As well as the marble steps in front of the other hotels on the same block.

Yesterday’s blog screwed up. Spelling, English, etc. The bottom third of the first part of the publication. Nothing I could do. As terrific as this hotel is, their computers are a generation ago. Slow and mistake inclined. Suddenly, I could not correct my mistakes nor the computer’s.

Terri White. A love of my life. Donna writes that Terri will be appearing in The Razzy Room of the Hotel Nikko in Los Angeles on July 10. A big deal! Go Terri!

I published another article on Amazon Kindle yesterday. Chevron Officials Banned From Leaving Brazil. Theme: Fool me once you may get away with it…..try to fool me a second time and you are in trouble.

That is it for today. The end of the Greek portion of my trip. Tonight back in Italy. Tomorrow night dinner in France.

Enjoy your day!

DAYS 31 and 32

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I am back! Missed a day. Yesterday. Big traveling day.

I am sad to say I left Amorgos. It is like Key West in my feelings. Twenty five years ago on my first visit I knew some day I wanted to live in Key West. Amorgos leaves me with the same feeling. No way, however. Key West is home and I am happy there.

I am in Athens. A big vibrant teeming city. After spending more than three weeks on three different Greek isles, I needed a return to the normal world.

I am doing my two days in Athens big time. Staying at the world famous Grande Bretagne. It is civilization. Opulent. Service till you fall over it. Tons of fresh clean towels. A woman to give me a manicure. A real shower. Not one of those small confines with a hand held shower head. Big bed with a great mattress. Clean sheets every day.

The modern conveniences!

My last day on Amorgos was spent doing exactly what I liked. I sat in my bathing suit with my feet propped on another chair on my terrace. A baseball cap on my head backwards. And read. Except for an hour in the afternoon when I went in to take a nap.

Dinner was with Demetrius. He made a fuss. I told him…..I shall return!

Yesterday was a new experience. My 9 hour boat trip to Athens. I was not excited. The starting time was too early. The length off the trip too long. I expected an old beat up trawler with a handful of people.

What surprise! The boat was fantastic!

Big. Three stories. Long. A ferry boat in effect. The first floor for cars. Don’t know why. There are not that many cars in the Greek isles to fill the mammoth space. Two floors for passengers. Roughly 400. The second floor all economy class. The third, half economy and first class. The other half business class.

I was in business class. Explanation time. Classes when traveling are not the same as in the U.S. Whereas first class is tops, in Greece business class is. The Greek first class is comparable to our business class.

You would not believe the business class salon. Easy chairs and sofas. That’s all to sit on. Pure comfort. Always a table nearby for a drink or whatever. Service. Waiters. A small bar with little goodies to eat. Only half full.

The trip was a treat! Rather than the dreaded experience I thought was before me.

DAY 29

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Nearer my God to Thee!

I was there. I was close. I visited the monastery on Amorgos yesterday. Way up in the sky sitting on the side of a very high cliff.

Some pertinent background information first. Then my personal experience.

The Monastery is also called the Monastery of Hozoviotissa. Do not ask what it means. I do not know. Could not ascertain. It has something to do with the Virgin Mary, however.

There was an Emperor Alexius back in the 11th century. Whether he was emperor of only Amorgos or more, I do not know. As the story goes, a mysterious icon of the Virgin Mary arrived on the beach below the cliff. No one knew nor could discover where it came from.

Emperor Alexius concluded it had been Divinely sent to him. He decided to build a shrine on the spot to honor the Virgin.

The spot could not be the beach. A house cannot be built on sand. There was only the beach and a cliff. The cliff towered. Straight up. Three thousand feet or better. Alexius decided the shrine should be built on the side of the cliff. The cliff that was sheer and high.

He ended up building a monastery to house the Virgin icon. The Monastery constructed is 8 stories tall. For real. Built a couple of thousand feet up the side of a sheer wall of stone. The Monastery itself is constructed of stone, marble and whatever concrete was back then.

Now to put everything in perspective. Louis’ journey and visit to the Monastery.

My first step was to take a bus. To Chora. The old part of town I visited a couple of days ago. The road to Chora is basically straight up a high mountain. The Chora area continues straight up. Evverything here is up, up and more up!

Fortunately, the bus dropped me off near the top side of the Chora. Then it was a long walk to the gate to the Monastery. Up hill, of course.

The gate did not mean I was there. It was merely an entrance.

The next step (a good word to use) in the process was to climb the steps to the Monastery. Note, I am walking up the side of a sheer cliff.

There are 300 steps. They twist a bit. Always up. Never down. Not even once.

The steps are not of normal construction. Their height varied little. Their width and length very much. Like 5-10 feet.

The steps were constructed of stone. A slate type. I do not know if they are the original steps from the 11th century or have been replaced. The stones/slates were worn. A few missing here and there.

Basically, the steps had the side of the cliff on one side and a drop off the cliff on the other.

The Monastery was at the other end of the 300 steps. Almost straight up. I keep stressing the straight. Simply because it was that way. I would estimate the steps were at a 75 degree angle or better. That is straight up!

You will recall, I failed to make it to the top of the volcano. I was not gung ho to make it to the top here. If I did, good. If not, it would have been a valiant effort. I would give it a try!

I made it to the top. To the Monastery. It took a while. Quite a while. I stopped about a dozen times. Sat a while on a step. The stress on my body did not seem as bad as the volcano attempt.

I was thinking why was I making it now and could not with the volcano. I concluded because the volcano was early in my trip and a first attempt at something high and steep. Everything is upward bound in Greece. Hills and steps every where. I have been in Greece more than three weeks now. My body gotten a bit in shape and adapted to the terrain.

The end of the steps did not take me directly into the Monastery. There was still a long walk up a path to the Monastery door.

I was there!

Awesome is the only way to describe what I saw. A mammoth white building running to the sky. Recall, the building is described as eight stories tall. That is tall. Especially when you are standing at the foot of the structure.

The building was constructed on the side of a sheer cliff. I could not help but think sadly how many slaves were involved and how many died in erecting this shrine. I also thought the engineers and architects of the 11th century had to be brilliant to have constructed such a large edifice under extremely difficult conditions.

The front door. Small. Tiny. At best 5 feet in height. Maybe less. Three to three and a half feet in width. The only entrance. I had to bend over to enter.

I suspect the Monastery entrance was so constructed because people were shorter back then. Additionally, it was a good way to ward off invaders. Only one bad guy at a time could enter.

The first room on the other side of the entrance. The first thing I saw was a table with clothes. Women’s dresses, men’s pants, etc.

There is a strict dress code. No shorts on men. Women in dresses. Not even pants. Shoulders and beasts covered. If you are not so attired, the monks provide the appropriate clothing. I was glad I had been forewarned. I wore khakis. The clothes available at the monastery were filthy. Looked like they had not been washed in 50 years.

Awesome continued to be my impression as I walked through the rooms. Amazing what my eyes beheld.

Art work in each room. Fantastic art work! Paintings. Icons. The sanctuary where the Virgin Mary icon was shown defies description. That beautiful.

An eight story structure has many windows. The views from the windows magnificent! Open sea to the front. The beach below. All in glorious color. It was like almost being in Heaven and looking down.

There was a social aspect. A monk came out at the end of our visit. The only monk I had seen. The monks here take a vow never to speak or see outsiders the rest of their lives. This monk apparently had a dispensation.

We were seated in a long narrow room. There was a throne at one end. A long narrow beautiful wood table. A long couch with very comfortable cushions on each side.

The monk served us a sweet drink. A wine of some sort. And a sweet. A piece of candy covered with sugar. He spoke. Gave some sort of dissertation. Unfortunately, it was in Greek. I understood none of it.

The monk was interesting. He was tall and thin. Appeared aged. Had a very long beard. Like down to his chest. He was dressed in a blue flowing robe. A hat/head cover of the same color.

I found his hands and face skin interesting. Dirty. Perhaps he had come to see us directly from the fields. But there were no fields. We were attached to a cliff. Then, he did not bathe that often. It was the only viable conclusion I could come to.

Between the dirty clothes at the beginning for those not properly dressed and the monk’s lack of cleanliness, I assumed the axiom that cleanliness is next to Godliness did not apply at the Monastery.

I made a meager contribution to the Monastery as I left.

There was a guest book. I signed and dated it. I wanted the whole world to know I had made it. I also inscribed above my signature…..Just amazing!!!

The trip down was not so bad. I took my time so I would not fall.

The bus was at the end of the Chora waiting where we had been dropped off. It was back to Amorgos.

An interesting trip. I am glad I have been able to share it with you.

Enjoy your day!