NOT A BAD BIRTHDAY

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Yesterday a good birthday. Spent the day selfishly. Doing what I wanted. No wife, friend or foe to accommodate. Just Louis.

Some observations to begin.

This morning was the best yet in Amorgos. I sat outside on the terrace reading till I left for the internet store at noon. The sun warm. Comfortable. It was impossible to sit out early morning till today because of the cold winds.

The locals tell me the winds come three days at a time from the northwest. Then they are gone. This is my fourth day on Amorgos. The natives were correct.

Bikinis. I have never seen a woman in a bikini that I did not like. The thought recurred to me this morning as I was walking to the internet store. With such great winds, sailing boats frequent the area. There were nine docked this morning. Each with one or more women on board. All in bikinis. Whether tall, short, slender bodied, heavy or what have you, a woman in a bikini is a sight to behold. All lovely. All sexy.

I have been on this trip two weeks. I loaded six books into my tablet before I left. I figured it would take me two months to read them. I am on my sixth and last book today. I will need to reload.

I finished Jefferson this morning. Terrific! I started Burt Bacharach’s book thereafter. Bacharach is the famous composer. What a book! I am only about fifty pages into it and love it! This guy has a sense of humor! Read his book!

I spent 4.5 hours yesterday at the internet store. Two tasks confronted me. I had to do next week’s KONK Life column. I called it Reflections. Commented on some events world wide. Then the blog. It’s a good thing I enjoy all this writing!

Lunch was Mythos. The restaurant has become another favorite. On the port and water, also.

Mythos’ owner is Vangelis. His first name. He and his family run the place. Vangelis, his wife, 15 year old daughter, and 10 year old son. There is also a 14 month baby daughter who walks around. Yes, she walks. Toddles. To the entertainment of the customers. A hard working family!

Why, I do not know. I ordered a huge glass of draught beer! I hate beer! A gallon jug! Not really that big, however. Though almost quart size.

Felt a bit bloated afterwards. Decided to walk.

My health has been so so. My fault. Stopped exercising in any fashion ages ago. Have been trying to get back into shape.

I said Louis, you are 78 today. Lets see how good you can do.

I walked around the bay. Three miles. I have not walked three miles in years. Did it. And felt no anguish afterwards.

I was proud of myself.

Back to Mythos for a moment. The bread on Amorgos is great. Thick cut with a strong hard crust. Not crispy, however. I have difficulty biting and chewing the crust. So I have taken to breaking away the soft portion within the crust and leaving the crust.

Vangelis came by with the baby. He said excuse me and took a piece of crust from my table. He gave it to the baby . She chewed it easily with the few teeth she had. I thought I have $35,000 teeth and cannot do what the baby does.

I have noticed that people of all ages sit around tables at the cafes playing a game. Looked familiar. It was. They play backgammon! Call it tavli.

Backgammon was popular back in the 1970s. I can remember playing it all the time at the Jockey Club in Miami. I guess it took a while to reach Amorgos. The observation is consistent with my thought that Amorgos is from another time.

Ran into my British widow friend Alice. If you are doing nothing, join me, she said. She had rented a car and wanted to show me the goats.

We drove up a mountain. There were clouds. First, we were below the clouds. Then in the clouds. Then on top of the clouds. Just like in an airplane. The only other time I had this experience was last year in Courmier. My chalet was half way up Mont Blanc. I woke one morning to a cloud bed below me.

We came upon the goats. She was correct. Had to be at least 200 of them. All beautiful, short, brown and black, and short in stature.

I was back to the Mythos Restaurant at 7. I had reserved a table. The stage for the music festival was right in front of the restaurant.

A great show. Young people from adjoining islands singing, dancing and playing music. Violins were the primary instrument. Some guitars. A small drum or two.

Dancing was in native costumes.

The Greek Orthodox priest I had seen earlier in the day was on stage playing with the teenagers.

Music loud. Very loud. Big time amplification.

The show most enjoyable! A pleasant way to spend the evening. Eating, drinking and being entertained in that fashion.

Spyros Tsimelas owns the internet store I am working out of. He was there last night. He had an important role. Spyros is the computer/internet guru on the island. The entire festival was being ustreamed on the internet. His responsibility.

I ordered stuffed calamari for dinner. Not what grandmother made. Hers were small and thin stuffed with bread crumbs, eggs and what have you. This was one calamari. Huge. Four by three inches. Thick walled. Stuffed with feta cheese, tomatoes and peppers. Delicious! I could not finish it. I left half the meal on the plate.

Vangelis came over and asked if I did not like the food. I learned later that in Europe people clean their plates. Not to do so is considered an insult to the cook.

To my Italian readers, although the walls of the calamari were 1/4 inch thick, the meat was tender. As tender as if it were as thin as the calamari prepared in the United States.

Time for lunch. Then, I do not know.

Enjoy your day!

I AM 78 YEARS OLD!

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Happy birthday day to me. Seventy eight years!

I remember when my father was 40, I thought he was old. When he was 78, I thought he was really old!

A mistake. Now I feel badly that on occasion I treated my Dad as an old man. He probably never was. Even though he lived to 98.

The mind stays young. I peg mine at 35. The body is the problem. It breaks down. Hopefully, slowly. You keep seeing the doctors and fixing things. I worry about the day something may not be fixable.

The last time a birthday bothered me was when I turned 50. This 78th is bothering me. Why, I do not know.

Spent four hours yesterday in the internet store. Had two days to report on. There is only one internet store in Katopolis. Charges 3 euro an hour. Expensive. I was only paying 1 euro in Santorini. I suspect the differences in prices is that there was competition in Santorini. An internet store around every corner. Here there is only one internet store.

Lunch was interesting and enjoyable.

I was dying for ham and eggs. I settled for bacon and eggs. Every now and then I need a shot of American food.
I was at an outdoor cafe. Nearby were 8 men and a woman. By the time three hours had expired, there were at least 25 persons.

There is a festival here today or tomorrow. The group was from another island. They were here to sing and play music. All ages. Guitars and violins. Even a priest. A Greek Orthodox one. Gray robes, black tall hat and a long black beard. He sang, played the violin, smoked and drank beer. Good for him!

Occasionally, some would stand and start dancing. Other times merely sitting and waving their arms.

Happy people! Getting ready for their concert. It was obvious they enjoyed singing and playing. I doubt it was their lives. After work, perhaps. These were ordinary people.

A happy, exuberant bunch. They spent the afternoon eating and drinking, doing what they enjoyed best.

I plan on watching whatever type event they perform. It is right on the port where the boats come in. In front of my favorite restaurant.

It is windy! Day and night. Sun is hot. At night, another story. Cold! I need a sweat shirt. The outdoor cafes are all wrapped in plastic drapes to divert the wind.

I met a British woman yesterday. Her name is Alice. She lives in a place called St. Albans which she told me is just outside London. She has been visiting Amorgos for 27 years.

The conversation got into lamb chops. She said no, goat chops. I was right. The lamb chops are really goat chops. She said if I went to the northern point of the island and up the hill, I would see hundreds of goats. Short in stature. Long haired. Dark brown and black. Beauties.

I had dinner last night at my usual restaurant. Went for the egg plant, zucchini, tomato and potato in oil as a start. Delicious! Ate it with thick slices of bread. Cleaned the plate!

Dinner was veal. For some reason, I opted to avoid the lamb chops. The veal was terrific. Cooked in a red sauce. A cheap cut. However, boiled long enough that the meat fell apart as soon as my fork hit it.

Six of the men singing in the afternoon showed up for dinner.

Smelts are small fish deep fried. The fish are really tiny. You eat the whole fish. Head and all.

Someone two tables away was served a dish of smelts. I went crazy. Love them! My grandmother and mother made them. Even my former wife. I asked the waiter if they were smelts. He did not understand. The Greek gentleman who ordered them did. He spoke English. He walked over to my table with the plate of smelts in hand. He said, eat. And walked away. I filled a small plate and returned the dish to him. With a smiling thank you, of course.

The confusion was the name. What I know and call smelts in Greek are called aferina. I hope I spelled it correctly.

I was grossly disappointed this morning. I have not been able to find Google news on the computer the past few days. This morning, I found out why. It is no more. Google has discontinued the service. Facebook and Twitter took too much business from them. I feel bad. Used the Google news service everyday.

I have to get out of the internet store. It is close to 2, closing time. I have been here 4.5 hours. Did next week’s KONK Life column first: Reflections.

Enjoy your day!

BELATED JULY 4TH GREETINGS FROM AMORGOS

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It’s not easy sometime!

Another 2 for 1 blog. I could not do yesterday’s blog. Two things are to blame. Verizon #1. They sell. However, the service leaves much to be desired. Second, I arrived in Amorgos yesterday afternoon at 3. The internet store closed at 2. It is only open 10-2. What a life!

Yesterday was July 4. Happy Fourth of July everyone! Hope you all enjoyed.

I am into my fourth book. Jefferson by Jon Meacham. A good book to start reading on the 4th. A smart, deceptive, cunning man. Just like Eisenhower. Maybe that is what it takes to be President. Especially a great one.

Wednesday was my last full day in Santorini. There is another side of the island. A side I had never seen. It was time.

Santorini cannot be more than 2 miles wide at Oia. The other side, totally different.

Oia is perhaps the most beautiful place I have ever seen. The natural result of a massive earthquake some 3,600 years ago. Made the Oia side dramatic colorful cliffs overlooking several islands which broke off from the main island at the time of the earthquake. Man has taken advantage of nature’s work. Business booms because of the beautiful view. I sometimes think Santorini as a whole is becoming too commercialized. I hope it does not become a Mykonos.

The other side of the island was nothing. Zip. The volcano did not affect the area. It was flat. The sea looked as any sea. The waves roll onto the beaches. No cliffs. No people, either. A few homes here and there. Most of Santorini’s development has been on the volcano side.

Greek houses come in two color combinations. White with blue trim, tan with white trim.

After my other side of the island trip, I sat on my terrace overlooking Back Street. Finished reading Eisenhower. A good book. I recommend it. It is a no holes barred revelation of Ike’s life.

I was out for the night early. Stopped at Mezzo for a drink. A necessity. Few restaurants carry liquor. Just beer and wine. I drink neither. So I stop where I know I can get what I want before going to a restaurant.

Mezzo is a small place. Only two servers. One male, one female. The female represented Greek beauty to me. Stands erect, lovely legs, a bit of an accentuated butt, lovely breasts and the face of a goddess. A Greek goddess. Topped with streaked gold and brown hair.

Her name is Andomaxi. She is Greek by birth. Lives on a different Greek isle from Santorini. Comes to Santorini for the summer to work.

Her English is perfection. Since it is a learned second language, each word is clearly enunciated. It was a delight to hear her speak English.

I treated myself to a Greek shirt. They are made of light flimsy cotton. Very cool to wear. Very cool to be seen in. Did not make me Greek, however. My crocs give me away.

I discovered a new tiny Greek restaurant. Off the beaten track. Taverna Kasteli. They had lamb chops! The kind I like. The kind my grandmother used to prepare. The cheap fatty bony cut. Delicious! One of my favorite foods. Lamb is big with the Greeks.

We are now into yesterday. Friday, the 4th. I left Santorini for Amorgos. Another island.

Amorgos is really nothing! Mountains, but no dramatic cliffs. Very few people. No airport. Very few cars. No tourists. The boat till this year used to come in once a week with supplies and people. This year, two times a week.

I enjoy the quiet, the simplicity, the nothingness.

I had to take a ferry boat to Amorgos. The Greek islands are connected by ferry boats. The ferry boats are their buses and subways.

The port was packed. I would estimate 2,000 people at least. All waiting for three boats. All due in at the same time. All came in at the same time. One hour late.

Most of the passengers were going to Mykonos. A celebrity haven 50 years ago. Everyone wants to experience the flavor today. I was there last year. I did not like it. Too many people, a tourist trap, everything expensive and generally not worth it, everyone hustling you. Mykonos is also the place where I got hit by the car and thrown into the air. Where the driver never stopped.

I was on what is called in the Greek isles a high speed hydrofoil. Reserved seats.

This boat had five stops. The first was Amorgos. Everyone seemed to be carrying a big suitcase weighing 40-50 pounds. You bring it on. An ordeal. When on board, you are shouted at and asked where you are going. Your bag is grabbed and thrown into a pile with bags going to the same place. Finding your bag afterwards is a task.

You have to hustle to find your seat. Once everyone is on, the boat moves. No lost time. If you are not in your seat, you are going to be on your ass.

The ride was ok till the last 15 minutes. Then 15 foot waves. Bumpy.

Arrived in Amorgos! Maybe 20 of us got off the boat. Lined up in front off the boat were representatives of the various homes that rent out rooms. No hotels as such in Amorgos. Some homes they call pensiones. Nothing upscale and today. These representatives are actually home owners trying to get some business. They hold up signs try to get your eye, and yell at you for your attention.

I am staying in the town of Katopola on Amorgos. Santorini’s Oia is very upscale. Katopola the other side of the spectrum. Very downscale. I would bet Katopola has not changed one iota in over a hundred years.

Maybe that is why I like it so much.

I was settled in my apartment. Elini’s. Ground floor. My own entrance. My own terrace. The terrace sits 12 feet from the ocean. The views nowhere as spectacular as Santoriini, but good never the less.

I heard a loud thump. Then another. And another. I looked to my side. There was an old man in a bathing suit. He apparently had caught with his hands a large squid. About two feet long. He was beating the squid on the rocks. Up and down many times. Obviously killing it and thereafter would take it home for dinner. Amorgos’ version of the old man and the sea.

My favorite Amorgos restaurant. I still do not know its name. There is no sign. It sits on the port off the water where the ferry boat dropped me off. An old 2 story house. The downstairs has been turned into a restaurant. Tables outside. A roof built overhead. The restaurant is typical Amorgos.

The owner and waiter remembered me. Handshakes all around.

I ate there almost every night last year. My grandmother’s cooking.

Last night it was lamb chops again. Two nights in a row. The same, the cheap cut. The kind you eat with your fingers. I also had a dish of egg plant, zucchini, tomatoes and potatoes in oil. The kind of dish you clean with the bread. The bread was De Vito bread. My Utica friends will understand.

As mentioned earlier, lamb is big in the Greek isles. The only problem is I have never seen a sheep. I see goats. Many of them. I suspect the lamb chops are goat chops.

This morning I was up early. I was standing on the terrace. Down the path/road to my right about 500 feet was a pickup truck. I saw a man come out of the house holding what I thought was a dog. As the truck drove by, I saw I was wrong. Two goats. “Lambs” being lead to the slaughter.

Enjoy your day!

FIRA

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Cash money can be a problem in Oia. The town I am staying in on Santorini. No one takes credit cards, with one exception. Car rentals. Restaurants, bars, hotels, stores, etc., do not. I am not sure it is the same in the other towns on Santorini. I assume it is.

I initially thought cash only so the merchants did not have to pay the 1 or 2 per cent to the credit card companies. Not the case. The purpose/reason is to beat taxes. Tax avoidance is a major sport in Greece. This is one of the reasons why Greece is broke. The government does not take in enough money to operate.

Arrests for tax fraud are rare. If so, the court process takes 10 years to complete. No one worries.

Obviously, you must carry many euros around with you.

Yesterday, I was down to 20 euros. Not much I could do with so little. I went to the ATM. It was broke. I went to the other ATM. It was broke. There are only two ATM machines in Oia.

I was sort of desperate for cash. The nearest ATM outside Oia is in Fira. Fira is the capital of Santorini. About 15 miles away. I took a bus.

The bus ride was pleasant. Took all of 20 minutes. A crazy curvy drive on a very narrow road. Many Americans on the bus.

The ATM in Fira was working. A relief!

I walked around Fira a bit.

The town was very crowded. Many tourists.

Cruise ships feed Fira with tourists just as in Key West. Four of varying sizes were sitting in the Aegean some distance off shore. As I stated yesterday, there is no dockage. The water is not deep enough for the cruise liners to come into shore. All use small shuttle boats to take the cruise ship customers back and forth.

This bugs the hell out of me. If Fira can get the cruise ships to come in and deposit their passengers in this fashion, why can’t Key West? This is a current problem in Key West. There is a push on for millions to be spent to deepen and widen the channel so the big boats can dock and drop their passengers off.

Fira sits high on a cliff. Just as Oia. A steep cliff. The passengers have to get to the top. They have options. They can walk up. A path exists. Generally stone. Over 500 steps. There is a cable car to take them up and down. Finally, donkeys and mules.

No one seems to mind.

Fira is different from Oia. I would describe Oia as more update. Fira a hundred years behind.

Whereas Oia’s walk is marble, Fira’s consists of lava, stones and pebbles hardened together. The walkways reminded me of a Chora. Chora is an old Greek section. Though Fira’s was improved.

Fira’s walk ways are 4-8 feet wide.

Enjoyed a sandwich and cold drink and returned by bus to Oia.

I have not spent much time laying by the water. I did yesterday. By the pool sitting halfway up a 2,000 foot cliff. The view of the bay before me.

When I returned to my room, I decided to sit on the terrace. My terrace on Back Street. I read the Eisenhower book for a while. Eisenhower was a crafty individual. He had warts. The book describes both the good and bad of the man.

Last night, I returned to Taverna Katina. No screwing around. I wanted to be sure of a good meal. That is exactly what I had. Basically, the same meal as two nights ago. Except this time I added egg plant salad as an appetizer. My entre was some fire red fish broiled. Tasted terrific, though a bit boney. Dessert again was baklava.

It finally happened! I saw a man with a beard!

He was sitting at the table next to me. We smiled at each other at the same time. We talked. He was from Australia. No beards here, he said. He also said he was beginning to feel strange having one. I laughed and agreed.

Earlier this morning, I was sitting on my terrace on Back Street enjoying a cup of coffee. An elderly woman was on the porch across the way. The porch on the flower/shrubbery covered house. White haired, pudgy, a black dress. She was sweeping the porch. She looked up and smiled at me. I said “ya sou.” Not spelled correctly. However, I have learned to pronounce it properly. It means hello, good day. She responded with the same Greek hello.

Ya sou is the only Greek word I have learned thus far.

After sweeping, she brought her coffee out and sat outside sipping and smiling at me.

She reminded me of my grandmother. My grandmother would rise, sweep the floor and then sit down for a cup of coffee. The same routine every day for many years.

My apartment is on the second floor. I have a next door neighbor. A young lady. In her early 30s. Other than a hello a couple of days ago, we have not seen each other. Our terraces are joined.

She came out in her night gown. I said hello. She said hello in English. Then tied her undies to a chair to dry. She had apparently just washed them. She then walked downstairs to the common area where there is a clothesline. She returned with black pants and a blouse. I have to iron these for work, she said.

Everything is easy in my Back Street complex. Everyone interacts like a family. The fact she was only in her night gown bothered her not at all.

I speak with the locals as much as possible about the economy. It is the same with everyone. Germany is no good! Merkel a rotten woman! We never should have gotten into the euro! We have been down and out before! We shall survive!

They will.

Enjoy your day!

A NOTHING DAY

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Yesterday moved fast. The day seemed short. Before I knew it, bed time had arrived.

The reasons are obvious.

I slept later than normal. A sign I am enjoying the trip.

It took me four hours to do yesterday’s blog. It was a two-dayer. I must have been verbose. It ran 2500 words. My blogs are normally 300 to 800 words.

When I finished the blog, it was mid afternoon. I was hungry. Returned to Mezza’s. It has become a favorite place.

One of my favorite Key West meals is Cuban cheese toast with tomato. The absolute best! The butter helps.

Mezza’s menu listed a cheese tomato toast sandwich. Why not? It was not the same. Good. Nowhere as good as the Key West version, however. The sandwich consisted of two slices of white thin bread toasted crispy with cheese and tomato. Hot. Cheese was melted. Bread slices unusually large.

I was still hungry. I think it was actually that my eyes were bigger than my stomach. Milk shakes on the menu! I enjoyed a chocolate milk shake. Terrific!

From where I was sitting in Mezza’s, I had a clear wide view of the bay. So lovely! I wish everyone could see it. While sitting there, I observed another Key West familiarity. Weddings. Saw three brides and grooms taking pictures. One reason Nikos had no room at his cave hotel for me is that a wedding party has taken most of his rooms for the week.

I spent the next few hours sitting on my little balcony overlooking Back Street. The breeze coming off the ocean at me from three directions. I read. The latest Eisenhower book. One thing I have learned is that generals live like kings. Great residences and service. Especially when in a war zone.

Got tired. Took a two hour nap.

I was finally out at nine. Where to have dinner the issue. I saw a new restaurant on a side street. A second floor job. Subdued lighting. I walked over. It was a Cypriot restaurant. I had never experienced Cypriot food. So up I went.

Unfortunately, I did not enjoy my meal. Too rich. It stayed with me into the middle of the night.

No screwing around tonight. It is tried and true for me. Back to Taverna Katina!

Some observations.

Santorini has fishing boats similar to Amorgos. Basically converted row boats. They add a motor on the back. One man per boat. He will spend every day of his life earning a living this way. I took a pic or two of the boats. They were shown on Facebook yesterday.

I have come to the conclusion I have the only beard in Oia. Oia is the town in Santorini I am at. Not one beard have I seen other than mine in the mirror. Whether tourist or local. All clean shaven.

Age. I am constantly being made aware of mine. I think I am the only “old man” on the island. I have not seen one person that I would place in his or her late 70s.

I was only in Athens two nights last week. I would like more of Athens. I am trying to rearrange my schedule to be back there again for 2-3 additional days near the end of the trip.

My next stop is Amorgos. I will be there thursday. For three weeks. Love Amorgos! That is why I booked myself in there for such a long stay.

Enjoy your day!

SANTORINI

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I missed doing the blog yesterday. Sorry. I slept 12 straight hours. Woke 11 yesterday morning. Still had next week’s KONK Life column to do. Two days late. Guy de Boer bugging me. Took 3.5 hours to do. It was late afternoon by the time I finished. I was finished. I wanted to enjoy Santorini a bit.

Today’s blog therefore is a doubleheader. Stay with me. Some exciting things have occurred, including my pants falling down in front of two women.

Flew Athens to Santorini on Olympic Airlines. As with Aegean Airlines, the stewardesses were young ladies. Mid 20s at best. All beautiful. The flight was only a half hour. The plane was full. A pleasant ride. Especially over some of the other Greek Islands. The same experience you get when flying into Key West.

Nikos and his wife Maria own the cave hotel I stayed at last year. Nikos a gentleman. He met me at the airport.

Our destination was Oia. The other side of the island. A harrowing drive. Heart in your throat type. Very narrow two lane roads. Curves you would not believe. Every 100 feet. Many the hairpin type. The road goes up and down in huge dips. Everyone speeds.

When I e mailed Nikos to make a reservation, he sadly told me there was no room at the inn. He was booked solid. He further advised every other cave hotel was the same. I was disappointed. Also needed a placed to stay.

Nikos owns a building on the other side of the road. Nothing fancy. Typical rural Greek. He and his wife have an apartment there. He generally rents to locals. He had one empty, if I was interested.

I took it.

Love it! I call it Back Street. I am on the back side of the building away from the main road. There is a small narrow road on my side for parking. Second floor. What a view!

Beat up old buildings. One with wash hanging from the second floor every day. The other hiding its age behind large shrubs of flowers. Another side, an inner court area.

The room is huge. Four times the size of a normal hotel room. Made for a family. Small kitchen area. Very small bathroom. Most Greek bathrooms are. Taking a shower is an experience. Forget taking a bath. And the balcony. So peaceful to sit and work on, to read, and to contemplate my navel. No air conditioning. Do not need it, except at mid afternoon. Wind blows through a huge window and two doors I leave open. Even when I am sleeping. Hope springs eternal that some female will visit me in the middle of the night.

My neighbors are true Greeks. From another century. Old and young. Pleasant. Cheerful. Always saying hello in Greek.

Maria greeted me when I arrived. A two cheek kiss and hug. Maria to me is Mama mia. Not from the movie. She reminds me of my mother and grandmother.

Maria immediately wanted my dirty clothes. I had not had anything cleaned in almost a week. I said no. She insisted. I gave in. She did my clothes last year. Washes and irons everything. Will accept no money for her assistance.

The little dining table in the room held a basket of fresh fruit and a bottle of wine. Nikos and Maria also own a winery. Soon there was a knock on the door. Maria. She had a large bowl of fresh small tomatoes and another of apricots. A short while later she showed up with a tray of Greek coffee and baked goods.

Good people! The best!

Let me interject at this point a bit about Santorini. I sometimes think the most beautiful place I have ever seen. The view of the bay is magnificent. Surrounded by high multi colored cliffs rising straight up thousands of feet.

Santorini’s history is interesting. It once was one big island. In 1500 BC, some 3,600 years ago, one of the world’s largest volcano eruptions occurred. A good part of the island broke away. Now there are several smaller islands and the smaller main one. One of the islands is the volcano. The volcanic eruption explains the huge cliffs. Where the island separated. The tops of the cliffs are rust in color. Then at mid point become black and appear like huge chucks of coal.

I took some of Maria’s goodies and sat on my small terrace eating them, admiring the limited view, and thinking how lucky I was. I read a bit. I am on my third book in a week. All on the tablet.

Suddenly I was exhausted. Could not keep my eyes open, my head up. Jet lag was still with me. I went to bed and slept a couple of hours.

Dinner time. Needed a drink first. Found a new cafe. Mezza. I like it! They have gin, chocolate milk shakes, and tomato and cheese toast. Enjoyed a couple of drinks while taking in the view of the bay.

Alcohol is an experience here. Most restaurants have gin. Few quality brands. Gordon’s seems to be the gin of choice. It is like water. Does not have the kick of a stronger gin. Three Gordon’s is equal to one Beefeaters. Ozou is the popular drink. An anisette. I had a glass somewhere and put it in my coffee. Everyone went crazy. That is not how ouzo is to be drunk. You drink in straight or mixed with water. Since it is anisette to me, I drink it in the Italian tradition. In my coffee.

My first night’s dinner was not to my liking. My favorite off the beaten track restaurant was no longer there. Apparently out of business. I tried a new one on the main drag. The entre left much to be desired. The appetizer on the other hand was out of this world. Four large artichoke hearts covered with peas and potatoes, all prepared in olive oil. Delicious! Understand that everything in Greece is prepared with olive oil. There are olive trees everywhere.

I stopped at Mezza. There were what appeared to be three college age young ladies at the table next to me. Two men also. One a father to one of the girls. The conversation got a bit loud. All of a sudden I heard…..I’m gay!…..I’m gay!…..I’m gay! All three at one time. Whether they were for real or experimenting or trying to convince the men, I do not know. The whole thing reminded me of the Kevin Kline movie where Kline was a gay high school teacher. Someone outed him. The principal had a public meeting to dismiss Kline from the faculty. Town people as well as students attended. All of a sudden, the audience one at a time or in small groups stood up and said…..I’m gay.

The nights are cold. Both evenings, I needed to wear a sweatshirt. Warm by day. No humidity.

Nikos and I had a conversation on the way in from the airport. Business has picked up. Much better than last year. The influx consists of Americans, Indonesians, Australians, and Japanese. A ton of Australians. From what I could gather, Australia’s economy has been good the past three years.

I have spoken with several Greeks since I arrived in Greece itself. About the economy. In my two days in Athens, I was disappointed there was not a demonstration I could attend. There were two last year.

Things are no better. In fact worse. The attitude is…..What can we do? We are Greeks and have survived before. We will survive again. We must keep working at things.

The people hate politicians. All government people are crooks. They also hate Germans. No question. Very few Germans visiting this year. Probably because they anticipate a cool reception.

The euro/German thing brings out old memories. Of the German occupation in World WAr II. I heard it more often this year as opposed to last. I was told by all that the euro was a disaster and Greece should not have entered into it.

I hear war. It is not around the corner. However, I was talking to a people who think they are being put upon. Unemployment as a practical matter is over 50 per cent. College grads cannot get jobs. Fathers cannot feed their families. All real. The Greeks are being pushed. I assume Italy, Spain, Cyprus and Portugal are also. I said after last year’s visit that if another World War began, it would not be in the Middle East. It would be in Europe because of euro caused problems. I said it a year ago. Greeks are saying it today.

Santorini is much like Key West. A tourist town. They must make it in season. It gets cold here quickly. The season is 3-4 months.

Which brings me to yesterday, Sunday.

Slept well. As indicated before, did not wake till 11. Blog never got done. I spent quite a while on next week’s KONK Life column. The article deals with the makings of a radical. A Boston marathon bomber type. I tied it in with the story of a 14 year old boy who wore an NRA t-shirt to school, was told he could not wear it, and ended getting arrested. The case was resolved last week. The charges were dismissed. My concern is what the impact might be on this eighth grader in later years.

I made time for a manicure. My nails were starting to look like Fu Man Chu’s. Hair and Soul the place. Catherine the owner and manicurist. Originally from Australia, she married and has lived on Santorini for 10 years. She greeted me with a warm back again hello. We had a great conversation.

I then went down to the cave pool and spent a half hour looking out over the water under the shade of an umbrella. The volcano was directly in front of me. My nemis.

As I was sitting there a cruise ship came in. A big one. They stream across the bay to Fira which is another Santorini town. There is no dock or channel for the passengers. The cruise ships shuttle passengers to shore in small boats.

If Santorini can do it and get the big cruise ships to visit, why can’t Key West?

It could be the quality of the product Key West sells. There are no t-shirt shops on Santorini. No one hustles you to come into their store. The boat people are different from what Key West gets. They are a higher class economically. Key West gets a polyester crowd. Perhaps if Key West changed a bit what it has to offer, we could get these type passengers. The stipend per passenger paid to Key West would increase appropriately, also.

Last night was Taverna Katina! My favorite Santorini restaurant!

It sits at the bottom of one of the high cliffs. Immediately/directly on the water. The sun was setting as I arrived.

It always amazed me how a bartender remembers a customer who has not visited his bar in several years. He remembers the drink. I ate at Taverna Katina 3-4 times last year. The food that good! The waiter remembered me. You drink gin, he said. You can’t get enough, he added. The owner’s daughter even remembered me. Not by name, but knew I had been there before. Good for a hug and kiss welcome.

The sun on the cliffs is difficult to describe. The rust and black reflecting. Wow!

My reserved table was on the water on a concrete abutment. Another inch or two and me and the table would have been wet.

The meal to die for. Let me bore you.

I started with three appetizers. All small. Greens and oil. Oh! Fish eggs and oil. Wow! Eggplant fried in oil. Oh and wow!

Fish is sold by the pound. Only fish is sold. The menu has the euro amount per kilo. You select from the menu the type. I wanted sea bass. I was then taken into the kitchen to select my fish. I picked one out. It was weighed. I was told its exact cost.

The sea bass was served flayed. It was grilled only to a point. Then somehow cooked in light oil. Oil again. Delicious! I have never eaten fish so good. Not even in Key West. Coffee and baklava completed the meal. The coffee and dessert on the house.

Nikos drove me to Taverna Katina and returned to pick me up. Ten miles each way. The man again a gentleman. He would not let me take a taxi. After dinner, I was waiting outside the restaurant in a corner for the car to come down. The cliff behind me, the water 30 feet away. Two women were waiting for a cab. One British, the other Indian. We were chatting. I was cold. I started to put my sweat shirt on. As I lifted my arms, my pants fell down. Just like they did in Mykonos last year. It must be a Greek thing.

The ladies did not know what to say or do. I tried to lighten the moment. It always happens, I said. I’m really an exhibitionist at heart, I added. As soon as I said it, I thought how stupid. Turned out it was not. They both laughed. One exclaimed disappointment in that she could not see anything. The other asked why I did not wear a belt. I do, I told her. My problem is I have no ass to hold them up. Fortunately, at that point Nikos showed up. I got into the car hearing laughter and keep your pants up!

I did not go to bed. I was awake. Returned to Mezza. Enjoyed a Grand Marnier while watching Santorini visitors saunter by.

I continue to have computer data port problems. Verizon sucks! Two years in a row and they still do not have it right. Anyhow, the problem makes it impossible for me to do my blog radio show from outside the United States. I am off the air till after August 10. My television/internet show is running recordings of former broadcasts. You may wish to tune in friday mornings at 10. The blog and KONK Life column continue.

This is the longest blog I have ever written. If you are still with me, I hope you have found it interesting. I enjoy sharing my experiences with you.

Enjoy your day!

ACROPOLIS AND PARTHENON REVISITED

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Timewise, my life is totally screwed up.

I arrived in Santorini this morning. Santorini is seven hours ahead of Key West time.

I went out in Athens again last night. Did not get back to the hotel till one in the morning. Had to get up at 5 to get cab at 6 to take me to the airport for an 8:30 flight. The flight took a half hour.

Now for my yesterday fun day.

My computer and data port are still not working. Nor will the computer take wi-fi. Ergo, I am required to find a store that leases computer/internet time. The place in Athens left a bit to be desired. Second floor. Heavy humidity. No air conditioning. Everyone smoking. I was soaking wet and stunk of cigarettes when I left.

I took a walk. I was hopefull the fresh air would take the smell out of my tee shirt. It was my last clean one.

Walked the same commercial street as I did last year. Heavy duty stores. Top of the line. More closed than last year. Saw beggars, again. Three. A young man with no legs sitting on the street with his hand extended holding a cup. A young mother kneeling in the street holding her baby. The woman had a sign around her neck…..I have no money. A small bent over old lady with no teeth walking up to people with her cup and mumbling undistinguishable words.

These are not homeless people as we know them. These are for real beggars. The same that have existed since the beginning of man.

It was Acropolis and Parthenon time.

It was a tough trek last year. I was in terrible shape. I walked through Plaka to the foot of the wide road leading up to the entrance to Acropolis and Parthenon. Better than a 45 degree incline. At least a mile up. Had to stop several times. Thought I was going to die.

Did it again yesterday. This time the smart way.

I found an English speaking cab driver. I asked if he could get me to the entrance on top. Absolutely! I was there in minutes. Not even winded.

Acropolis and Parthenon are Acropolis and Parthenon. The beginning of civilization. Still standing. A little weathered. A bit beaten. Yet surviving.

It was still hard work after the cab ride. I had stairs to climb and much ground to cover. I did it with pleasure. There is something exhilarating about seeing man’s beginnings.

I had to walk two blocks after leaving. To find a cab to take me back to the hotel.

One thing bothered me. The cost of entry. Either Americans are unloved or thought to be rich. I think both.

Europeans pay 6 euros. Americans 12. At the Last Supper, I ran into a similar situation. I am 77 years old. Senior Europeans paid 1.5 euros. Americans 10 euros.

Last night, I was back in Plaka. Probably should be spelled Playka. A wonderful place! I never stay up late, yet I did at Plaka two nights in a row.

I was heading for the bar/outdoor cafe where I spent some time last year. Where I watched the European soccer world series with the owner and some of his buddies. When they yelled, I yelled. When they swore, I swore.

The name of the place is Cossimos. I think. Everything is in Greek. The Greeks have their own alphabet. Strange to non-Greeks. Cossimos is as close as I can come to the correct name.

I was in a large crowd moving down the street towards Cossimos. All of a sudden I hear a shout…..Key West Lou! It was my owner friend from last year. He came running towards me and we hugged. As soon as we arrived at the cafe, he yelled to a waiter…..Gin on the rocks!

I made a friend last year.

He is Canadian. Sixtish. Was very happy. Told me he been divorced in the past year. He had a girl friend in Canada. Twenty seven years old. She was coming to Greece to live with him. Lucky you, I told him. He beamed!

The drink arrived. A large water glass filled to the brim with gin. At least 3 drinks in one. Maybe 4. My friend was a generous host.

Note that I have not mentioned his name. I coud not remember. After his warm reception, I did not want to insult him by saying I forgot, what is it, etc. I never found out.

I noticed a couple of things while devouring the gin.

Every dog I saw was flat on the ground sleeping. I never saw one up and about. I thought they might have smoked something.

Athens is alive. People are up. Locals and visitors. Contrasted with Novara where I found people basically depressed.

They have Ed Swift type trains as in Key West. My thoughts were of Sheila. The train cars are a bit narrower. Three max across as opposed to four. They do not drive on city streets. They drive down the narrow alleyways in Plaka. Only people are obstacles. Not bicycles.

Outdoor cafes galore. Each with someone hustling your business as you walk by. Two nights in a row, I walked past Mikel. A charming young man. Eat here, eat here, was his cry. We chatted. I promised him I would return. He was thrilled when I did.

Mikel’s restaurant is named Meandros. I only know the English name because I had Mikel tell me and spell it for me. The food was outstanding! Lamb chops. Broiled. The cheap boney fatty cut. Loved them!

I walked back to my hotel. I did not get lost this time.

Tomorrow Santorini.

Enjoy your day!

THE LAST SUPPER

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Leonardo Da Vinci’s Last Supper is the feature item today. I saw it yesterday in Milan.

Yesterday contained so many interesting happenings. To avoid confusion, I am going to trace my day as it occurred. The Last Supper fits into the day at a certain point.

My day started sometime in the morning. A train and two subways to The Last Supper in Milan.

It has been said Mussolini made the trains run on time. Forget it. My train from Novara was 10 minutes late. My return train 35 minutes late.

First came a 20 minute wait in line to buy a train ticket. The Milan railway station is old and filthy. Contrasted with the Metro Underground which was shiny new and clean. The Metro Underground is Milan’s subway system.

One train ride and two Metro rides later, I was at the Piazza Del Duomo. Big! Magnificent!

I came out of the railroad station. Mussolini built it. The building survived the war. Huge and magnificent. The construction itself eye boggling.

There was a very large statue of someone on a horse in the center. Sorry, I never got the name.

St. Duomo’s Church. I will tell you more about the Church when I get to the point where I actually entered.

There was a building immediately next to or a part of the railway station where it emptied into the Piazza. An elderly woman told me she saw Mussolini on the third floor balcony when he announced that Italy had entered World War II on the side of the Germans. She said he threw his arms up and shouted…..War! War! War!

She claimed thousands cheered, including her. That was June 1940. Five years later on April 27, 1945, Mussolini and his mistress were executed/shot by Italian partisans near Lake Como. Their bodies were driven to Milan where they were hung upside down on meat hooks at an Esso gas station.

What a difference 5 years makes!

I hopped a cab to Santa Maria Delle Grazie Church. The Last Supper is exhibited in a special building next door. The building is referred to as the Church’s rectory.

I entered the Church. I had 45 minutes to kill. One only sees The Last Supper by appointment. I was early. So I opted to visit the Church itself.

The Church was huge, as expected. Side altars lining the walls.

There was an elderly priest in white robes walking around. We smiled and moved towards each other. Just then someone said all had to leave. The Church was closing. I looked at the priest. He shrugged his shoulders. I said…..You may be failing in my redemption. I do not believe he understood me.

I still had roughly 45 minutes to kill. Saw a bar across the street. Went over. The bar sold alcohol, ice cream, cakes, and sandwiches. I sat down and enjoyed a chocolate milk shake.

I still had some time before my scheduled visit. I looked about and made some observations.

Milan is affluent. It is very obvious. The men and women dress elegantly and carry themselves with that strut that tells you they are somebody. Milan is the business center of Italy. Not, Rome. Ergo, many business and professional persons. The men seemed to all be wearing custom tailored suits. Most dark navy. What I used to call courtroom blues. A white shirt and blue tie.

The cut of the suits was different from in the U.S. The pant leg came straight to the top of the shoe and stopped. Not that baggy bottom of the leg look that has existed in our country for years. I prefer the cleaner Italian look.

The women regardless of age dressed beautifully. Top of the line expensive clothes. They carried themselves well. With a sense of confidence. Each a beauty.

Stephanie Kappel, you would have loved the shoes. Not in the store windows. The ones the ladies were wearing.

I have yet to see a fat Italian. I did not see one in Rome 30 years ago nor in Milan yesterday. The men and women are all thin. Very thin. Clothes drape well on them. I was told they are thin because of their life styles. They drink little alcohol. Perhaps an occasional wine. No sodas. Only water. Eat unadulterated foods. Much fish and vegetables. Occasionally a good cut of meat. And they walk! Walk everywhere. Up and down hills and steps.

There appeared to be more mopeds than cars. A lot of bicycles. Traffic was damning. Horrible! Worse than New York or Boston. Crossing the street was an exercise in danger.

I saw only three beggars. Three too much. Two men and a woman. The woman was elderly. She was sitting on the Metro steps holding a cup out. I noticed her teeth. The best I have ever seen! Better appearing than my implants which cost me $35,000. I apologize, but I think she was involved in a scam. I expect to see real beggers in Athens, however. Many.

It finally was my time. Time to see The Last Supper.

People are taken into the rectory building in groups of thirty every 15 minutes. That gives you about 10-12 actual minutes in front of the painting.

Da Vinci painted The Last Supper in the late 1490s. It was painted on what I would describe as a concrete wall. Not on canvas. Nor is it small. It is a large mural. Probably 30 x 40 feet. Impressive!

Because of its nature (painted on concrete and its age), there is a concern for deterioration. The room temperature is kept at a constant level. Every attempt is made to keep the room free from pollutants.

Which meant we did not enter directly into the room. We had to go through three separate glass rooms and stay for a short period of time with the doors electronically closed in each. To bring the temperature to an appropriate level. Our body temperatures. Also to free us as much as possible from the pollutants human bodies carry.

Fortunately, the three rooms were glass floor to ceiling. Otherwise claustrophobia would have set in.

There was a special feeling when you entered the room containing the painting. It takes up an entire wall.

I sat on a bench and pondered. I was in the presence of something.

The painting is subdued color wise.

Mary Magdalene was in the painting. Standing near Jesus. A baby was on the shoulder of some young person next to the both of them. There exists a school of thought that Jesus and Mary ultimately married and Mary bore Jesus’ child. I do not know. I am Catholic. I almost feel sacrilegious in mentioning this. However, it is part of the mystery. The tour guide made reference to it.

What was my emotion as I sat there. Simple, yet awesome…..I just visited with God.

We left in the same fashion as we entered. One door less.

I was tired by this time. Too much hurrying and walking. I opted for lunch.

Dante Street is one of the top high priced store areas in Milan. Smart stores. There is no vehicular traffic. Street cafes were set out. I ate at the Majestic. A small table under a huge umbrella.

What a lunch!

I started with a gin and tonic, diet soda and bottle of cold water. I was thirsty! My meal was lasagna bolognese. I had been dying for pasta since I arrived in Italy. Delicious and unbelievably light!

After lunch, i walked back into the Piazza. There were people screaming on the other side from me. I walked over. There were thousands of spectators looking up. Most young girls 8-16. Four stories up, four young men and two young ladies were leaning over a balcony. The men were constantly waiving and blowing kisses to the young ladies below. Peope were hanging out windows taking pictures of the four young men. Swooning is the word which best describes the female reaction.

I could not discover who they were. I suspect they must have been some popular musical group. Giorgio Armani was having a one night opening show in the building later in the evening. Perhaps the young men were popular singers who were to perform. Such is a best guess.

I was tired and wanted to get out of the heat. I have always found a church to be the best place to cool down on a hot day. I entered the Saint Duomo Church. Interestingly, I had to go through security first.

The Chuch is magnificent on the outside. Much larger than St. Patrick’s in New York City. I have never seen so many spirals in my life.

I sat down and within minutes fell asleep. A half hour later I was hearing…..Sir…..Sir…..Wake up. It was one of the Church staff.

The entrance to the train station is a Galleria. Beautiful! Spacious! I opted for one final drink before I took the train back. The train and Metro.

I sat at one of the sidewalk cafes. Watched the Milan world walk by. Enjoyed not one, but two drinks.

I had to go to the bathroom. The cafe had one downstairs. I saw a first. There was no toilet. Only a hole in the floor. Porcelain circled and lined. No toilet as we know one. Fortunately, I only had to piddle.

As I left, I saw the door to the women’s bathroom open. I looked in. The ladies had a normal commode. To sit upon as usual. I could not understand why the difference. What is good for the goose should be good for the gander. And vice versa.

The train back was 35 minutes late. It was hot. You wait semi-outside. No air conditioning. The subway to the train was even worse. No air conditioning. Interesting smells. Not everyone uses deodorant.

The train and Metro were a different experience. The last time I did trains and subways I was in college. I do not expect to do it ever again. I am a car and driver person.

This afternoon I am back to Milan to catch the plane to Athens. The car and driver will pick me up at 2:45.

I got back to the Novara appartement around 8. I had it. I stripped and fell into bed into an immediate deep sleep.

Enjoy your day!

ROMAN ENCAMPMENT

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Novara did not always exist.

Way back in Antiquity well before the birth of Christ, Rome was interested in developing a commercial trade center in northern Italy. The present site of Novara was selected. Nothing but raw wild land at the time.

Romans legions were sent forth.

Roman custom was to erect a stone wall around where ever they were encamped or in the process of doing something. The wall was for protective purposes. To prevent an enemy from getting into the Roman camp.
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Such a wall was erected in what is now the Novara area. Today, it is the historical center of Novara. The area within which I am staying and take my walks.

The walls were thick. The outer one 3-4 feet. Of varying heights. Sometimes there was a second wall. Thinner. The walls were constructed of stone and brick, held together with some sort of concrete.

Rooms were also constructed underground beneath the walls. Passageways lead one to another.

Portions of the wall remain to this day. A thousand feet from where I am staying there are the ruins and remnants of one of the walls.

The Roman encampment was in a new area. The Roman new was nov and the name Novara was born. The ara at the end stands for area. New area became Novara.

Walked big time yesterday morning. About an hour. All about the historical center of town. The boxing ring still standing. May be a permanent thing. There were several young men and trainers in the ring. Definitely amateurs. I watched a while. They were being taught well.

What I thought might be a yoga workout platform in another spot turned out to be just that. Young children were participating in a yoga class as I walked by. There was also a small sign in Italian. I recognized the word yoga. It is the same in Italian and English.

The computer wi-fi saga continues. My disappointment with Verizon continues also.

I discovered yesterday morning that I had left the battery to the computer at the communications store. Back I went. My man from the day before was not there. Another stood in his place.

We initially had trouble communicating. Neither could speak the other’s language. Suddenly his eyes brightened, he threw his arms up and said in a loud voice…..Americano! The battery had been placed in an office for safekeeping. He returned it to me.

An English speaking employee came over to assist. My new man was able to show me how to place wi-fi in my computer and tablet. He could not do it himself for business reasons.

I returned to the apartment and followed the instructions. The tablet took and worked fine. My computer would not. I do not understand why. If one works, the other should also.

There is a neighborhood computer store nearby. Took the computer there. Some one thing is miss set in my computer. He did not want to screw with it. Nor did I did not want him to. Too many special programs loaded into it which I feared might be lost.

Here is what we are down to. The tablet will work fine for the blog and e mails. It will not work for the blog talk radio show. I need the laptop for sufficient power to broadcast.

This friend’s computer I am working on is strange as to its Skype st up. I could not get into to do the blog radio show last night. Ergo, no show. Hopefully next week.

I was disappointed I could not do the show. Just chatting with some Italian people has been an eye opener. I have interesting things to share.

Dinner last night was at what I would describe as a small neighborhood Italian restaurant. The place was unusually clean. Bright white tablecloths and napkins. I ended up drinking Italian beer. I am not a beer drinker. They had no gin. The beer was excellent. No after taste.

I started with antipasto. All meat. No vegetables or cheese. Salami, pepperoni (which they call sausage), prosciutto, and bacon. The bacon was very thinly sliced. I do not believe cooked at all. Covered with a bit of oil.

To die for! Delicious!

A good thing I did not order pasta for a main course. Could never have handled it. I had some light local fish sliced very thin. Apparently quick broiled in lemon juice and served. Outstanding!

I learn. Tipping is built into the bill. You do not have to tip in most European nations. In Italy, the tip is labeled on the bill as coperto. Being American, I like to add a few extra euros. I feel like I am cheating the waiter by not leaving something in addition on the plate.The bill came. Forty euros. I automatically pulled out a ten euro bill. A generous American tip!

My friends were immediately upon me! Turned out 10 of the 40 euros on the bill was for coperto. The house had already added on a 33.3 per cent tip. Outrageous! I became Italian. I left nothing!

This morning I take the train to Milan. A one half hour ride. I look forward to the train ride. Folklore has it Mussolini made the trains run on time. I am anxious to see if it is true.

I am even more excited for the reason I am going to Milan. To see Da Vinci’s Last Supper! What could be more thrilling!

Enjoy your day!

LAKE ORTA

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Each day is an adventure.

Yesterday’s adventure was a trip to Lake Orta.

The lake lies a one hour drive north of Novara. Go a bit further and you end up in Switzerland. An hour and a half away is France.

The trip to Orta was uphill. It took me into the Little Alps. So called because the mountains are smaller than the Alps themselves. No snow capped peaks.

The mountains, roads, trees and views reminded me of upstate New York’s Adirondacks. The same. With one major difference. The buildings. All huge and made of stone and granite. None wood. No wooden camps. Medieval Italy again. The buildings were all constructed in the 1,000 AD to !,500 AD era.

I finally ran into the Italy I experienced last year. Everything that goes down has to come up. The Orta village sits on the water at the base of a hill. Parking is near the bottom, though not quite. The last 1,000 feet is up to you.

The down trip went well. It always does. Up was another story. Shades of last year. I had to stop and rest a few times. However, I must admit I seem in better physical shape. The steps were long and twisting. Elevating at a 45 degree angle. The whole walkway only four feet wide. The buildings hovered next to and on top of each other. Built at a time when there was no vehicular traffic. Also at a time when narrow passageways were a safety factor in case of attack. The enemy would have to come drown the narrow walkways while the residents were pouring boiling oil down on them from the windows above.

I sat a couple of hours in the square. Piazza, actually. In italian, piazzetta. I am learning.

There was a tiny island about 300 feet off shore in Lake Orta. St. Giulio Island. A beauty. Completely covered with granite/stone structures 1-5 stories high. A church steeple visible off to the side.

I sat in the piazza and mellowed out on the view and a couple of drinks. Peaceful, restful.

I had dinner in a little hole in the wall restaurant located off one of the walkways. An outstanding meal! Rigatonis cooked in a light oil and mixed with small finely chopped vegetables and goat cheese.

My day started badly. Verizon sucks!

I spent hours and money getting set up for this trip. I cannot use my computer, tablet or data port. The problem is the data port. I cannot even put someone else’s wi-fi into my computer. It will not take. Verizon supposedly had everything worked out. They obviously do not know what they are doing, their store people do not know, the people they put me in touch with did not know. I am screwed. I wanted to do a number of things from Europe. Including my blog talk radio show.

I went to a computer store yesterday. Big! Like a huge super market. It was for communication items. The store made available computer geeks to help. Free of charge. Three spent over an hour with me. They finally concluded that Verizon did not know what they were doing. But they did not know, either. I had to go we elsewhere.

I did not come to Europe to get frustrated and run around trying to get my equipment to work. I am using a friend’s computer that accommodates my needs, except for tablet internet reception and being able to do my blog talk radio show.

I have not given up yet on the blog radio show. It is scheduled as usual for 9 tonight. That will be 4 am Novara time. I have a geek friend of a friend coming over later in the day to see if he can help. If so, the show will go on. If nothing, I failed in getting the problem corrected. Sorry.

Some observations.

The Italian people are very nice. Quiet. Congenial. Not boisterous. Do not raise their voices. Passive is the best term to describe them. Contrasted with Italo-Americans. Of which, I am one. We are boisterous, aggressive, know it all and in your face. I have concluded that those Italians who immigrated to the United States a hundred years ago were similarly passive, etc. as the ones today. However, being strangers in a new country they developed aggressive and loud qualities in order to survive and succeed. The new nature never left us.

Proving the point that Italians are passive, they have to be the most conquered and occupied country in the history of man. Italy’s history is replete with successful invaders. Starting with the Romans of antiquity to Attila the Hun to the World War II Germans.

The passivity was perhaps ingrained before the Roman invasion or has developed over the centuries from being an occupied country so many times.

I have not seen one beard in the three days I have been in Italy. Beard’s apparently are a local thing. Key West has them. Novara does not. I must look luck a nut when I am out walking wearing a baseball cap and exhibiting my beard. As stated yesterday, I have not seen one baseball cap either

My friend Silvio Berlusconi is in trouble again. Yesterday he was sentenced to seven years in jail for having sex with a 17 year old girl and abusing his power in trying to help her in a separate matter. He was sentenced two years ago to four years in jail for tax evasion. He is not considered convicted under Italian law until his appeals are exhausted. The process takes several years. His popularity continues. He is considered to have an excellent chance to be elected Prime Minister again.

I have a habit of saying…..Only in America! Sometimes…..Only in Key West! Now…..Only in Italy!

I discussed Napoleon yesterday and his impact on this area of Italy. Since then I have discovered that Napoleon was not French. He was born Italian. Born in Corsica of a noble family. The story is he ended up in France because he believed in freedom and equality and wanted to help the French fight for those things.

Immigration is a major issue in Italy as in the United States. In England, also. I had the good fortune to talk with a Brit last night.

The story is the same. The immigrants arrive, stay illegally and become social welfare burdens. The Italians and English have forms of socialized medicine. Because so many immigrants are eligible, care for all is delayed. Between three weeks and three months. Then there is the increased taxation to take care of the immigrant population.

A world problem.

My blog talk radio show tonight at 9. Tuesday Talk with Key West Lou. Will I be there? The question of the moment. Tune in and see. That is the best I can do. If I am on, it should be a terrific show based on my travels and what is happening world wide.

Enjoy your day!