bellagio when it rains

A picture may be worth a thousand word, but it will never replace being there.

The family had just driven from Tuscany to Bellagio, on Lake Como and checked into our hotel, The Pergola. The weather began to change immediately.The wind picked up, the temperature dropped, and clouds gathered between the mountains.

What had been serene and peaceful, became foreboding.The sky which had been half sun half gray was now full-blown gray and wet. The boats began to rock to and fro. The wind whistled through the masts. The chains anchoring the boats clanged in furious rhythm to the wind.

The rain which had until now held off, began to beat against the window of the hotel. As the rain began to fall, the visibility was reduced to nothing. White caps appeared on the lake. It is the quickness of the change that is so surprising. In a moment the beauty is replaced with the fury of nature.

it's a small world

One comes to the conclusion that it is a small world after all, when after traveling from Wichita, Kansas to Italy's Cinquetere, you run into friends from back home.

Dena and Craig Robinson stayed in Vernazza, just a stone's throw from Monterossa, two of five cities that make up Italy's Cinquetere. Dena and Craig are staying in a hotel on the main square. Look closely over Dena's head, you can see Craig's K-State t-shirt drying on the balcony. I can't resist the cliche, When in Rome...
 





You almost need to be a goat to make the walk from Vernazza to Monterossa. The marrow winding trail takes you up the hill over a thousand meters from sea level.

Dena and Craig hiked the route the next day and brought along trail friends from Australia with whom we shared a beer or two. David and his wife are retired ranchers and farmers from Queensland taking a five month vacation in Europe.

hotel pergola

This is where breakfast is served at the Hotel Pergola in Bellagio, Italy. Our room is directly above the pergola overlooking the lake.

The hotel is run by the mama, and her children, along with their spouses. A restaurant supplements their income from the hotel business.

breakfast at the hotel pergola

Breakfast is the time of day when weary travelers drag themselves out of bed and gather to share stories of the day before and the day to come.

At the Hotel Pergola, we shared breakfast with Gary Cooper and his wife Michelle (not their real names) and Kevin and Jan. Gary and Michelle live outside Seattle, Washington. I called him Gary because he had that Gary Cooper look - tall, thin, slow movements, and good hair. Gary was, in his words, a motorcycle buff, and so he was off to tour a local motorcycle factory near Como. His wife Michelle, was a junior high school counseler, who greatfully is able to put all her worries about teenage problems on the shelf while she vacations in Europe for the summer.

Kevin and Jan were from Ponca City, Oklahoma (again not their real names). He works as an educational counselor for the military in Germany. He has been doing it for the last 29 years and is set to retire next year and move back to Oklahoma. Jan has only recently come to Germany. She was divorced for 26 years before meeting Kevin again at a high school reunion and deciding to come to Europe and find a job. They are planning to get married in Denmark on an island later this year.

Everybody has a story. The variety of the stories is endless, but the common theme is restless people always looking for the new and different.

the morning after

Pictures can never words, they just don't give one the sense of sound, smell, and feel.

The morning after the storm on Lake Como the air is calm, the smell of coffee and fresh baked bread floats up to my room were I am still sleeping, and I feel as if life has slowed to slowest possible. Hardly anything is astir, with the exception of the hotel staff who are preparing breakfast and the birds who are already busy finding food.

Pictures are soulless, lacking movement and feeling and life. But, then if a picture told the whole story, I would be sitting back in Wichita, Kansas looking at a postcard rather then here.

bellagio

Everyone I met in Italy said that Bellagio was the prettiest place they had ever been to or the one place they had to get to. But I am here, it is raining and when it is raining, it is not so pretty. It is just wet. I have seen wet a lot of times and a lot of places, and it all looks pretty much the same, wet.



Wet is nice if you are a farmer on the western plains of Kansas. I suppose it is nice if you are a duck, even if I don't understand why people say that, and wet is good if youy simply want to sit in your room and read a good book while listening to the steady patter of the rain drops. But, I am on vacation, and Bellagio doesn't look good in the rain, just another soggy rain soaked Kansas town.

we sat in the car all day

My family and I didn't leave Cinque Terre for Bellagio until one in the afternoon. A morning on the beach and a swim in the water was worth it in order to get a late start on the four hour trip to Lake Como and Bellagio, the Pearl of the Lake.

We arrived at six p.m. and the weather was in a word, spectacular. But, thirty minutes later, the clouds moved in from the north and sun and postcared views have become drenching rains. One can see perhaps a hundred feet. The thunder cracks its peels like a cannon shot. The water spouts from the hotel are shooting the rain out like the other water displays at the Bellagio in Las Vegas.

Only a tourist would be out on a night like this. I drove all day while my family sat in the car. They had the opportunity to sleep and did so, so t.hat when we got to Bellagio they were ready to do the tourist thing. I tried to warn them, but no one listens to a dad. (Remember Chevy Chase in Family Vacation?)

Off they went lloking for George Clooney, who has a house here, or other similar pearls, while I sit here in the room looking out over the lake enjoying the storm and wondering why no one listens to Dad anymore.

last day at the villa

Last days come all too quickly. It has been a great time getting together and sharing stories and experiences. A day at San Gimignano among the towers, a day in Florence for the ladies and kids shopping and seeing the sights, a day for me at the American military cemetery, and just the time spent around the pool - it has been a memorable experience.

What will each of us remember and take away? For the children, it will be the pool or the gelato. For Robin and Laurie, a chance to be together again with each other. For Adam, perhaps the memory of a Volvo, broken down and abandoned in the town of Picenza. For Art, many things, but mostly the experience of seeing how people from eveywhere live life.

american military cemetary near florence

The Soldier

If I should die, think only this of me:

That there's some corner of a foreign field

That is for ever the home of the free, the land of the brave.





There shall be

In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;

A dust whom America bore, shaped, made aware,

Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,

A body of America's, breathing American air,

Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,

A pulse in the eternal mind, no less

Gives somewhere back the thoughts by America freely given;

Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;

And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,

In hearts at peace, under an American heaven.



Rupert Brooke: my apologizes for changing England to America.

the flowers

I wish that my flowers grew like they do in Tuscany. But then, Wichita does not get the morning mists off of the Mediterranean or the afternoon showers that cool the hillsides.

the kids

The kids are having a great time. There are, from left to right, Charlie, Hannah, Ollie, and Will.













We dine together.

We even begin to look like each other.

ships passing

Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak to one another, only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Days come and go at the Villa Poggiale, people check in and leave, departing for new destinations and adventures. Their stay is usually brief, a day or two at most. Villa Poggiale has little to keep its weary travelers here for very long, only the solitude of being away from the lights and activity of the city of Florence.

Of those who stayed for awhile, first there was the "office," actually a group of wedding photographers who had gathered at Villa Poggiale to study under Jeff (I forget his last name, but know that he was Australian, and well-known as he was always described to me.) As the office was a self-contained group our speaking was limited to questions of how to connect to the wi-fi. Jeff's wife, a cute thing with a stylish bob hairstyle, was always on the computer when not involved in the groups' activities.

Then there were Rupert and Katie from England, he a HP sales director, who along with his wife was getting away form the drudgeries of business. "competition is fierce," was all that he would allow when talking business, but who wants to bring troubles with them on a holiday.

As for the rest, mostly they come for a night and a day to recharge their batteries before the next stop. The family from Singapore, the father bald headed and austere, who smoked a cigar at meals, and his daughter who offered us a piece of their mother's birthday cake at breakfast. English, American, Dutch, German, and Italian, the guest come from everywhere, ships passing in the darkness with a brief "bon giorno" or other greeting, and that is it.

italian roads

I almost lost my life today.

It happened on a short run rom the Villa Poggiale into San Casciono. The distance is short, about two miles, and the route from villa to city climbs the hill that San Casciono sits atop. The way up is not steep, winding left and right through the olive orchards and, now and again, past houses that butt into the road like the prow of a ship. Even when the houses do not narrow the roadway, the olive trees grow right next to the road. The road is narrow. At its widest, the road can handle two cars and then a little bit more. At its narrowest, cars stop to allow one to pass when two would not fit.

I said that I almost lost my life.

I was running along the road. I was on the left side facing traffic, the way my mother had taught me. All of the sudden, speeding along toward me was a car - sporty, short, and fast. European cars are built that way so that they can hug the corners of the small roadways like a Grand Prix racer. This car coming at me was like one of those racers, cutting the edge of the road so that he could cut down on the distance of his turn by an inch or two, and, in doing so, he came within six inches of me. I flatten myself against the hedge that grew along side the road, as he sped on and on.

Bicyclists seem to have no problems on these same narrow twisting roadways. But then, cars treat them with respect as if each bicyclist was in the Tour de France. Runners are not treated the same. Runners on Italian roadways are aberrations. They are like deer, fair game.

doors and windows

Doors and windows are among the most photographed images in France and Italy. Red, blue, green, they are weathered and stained. Usually, doors and windows are set off by pots filled with colorful flowers or by vines arching above and over the entrance.


















A door, a window and a cheese shop - even when the paint is not kept up, the look of the building is other-worldly as if time has frozen and we are transported in time and place to a simpler life.












Finally, add a bicycle to a door and a window and you have a perfect setting. Who needs a car?

trompe l'oeil

During the Renaissance, painting ceilings was common place. Many ceilings were transformed into trompe l'oeil murals. A famous example is the Sistine Chapel painted by Michaelangelo between 1508 and 1512. The term trompe l'oeil refers to perspective illusionism, the ability to trick the eye into thinking that a two-dimensional painting has depth.

The sitting room of the Villa Poggiale uses trompe l'oeil in its arched 18 foot ceilings. The manner is more in the style of French Renaissance with the use of architectural features rather than with the use of natural scenes.

guelphs and ghibellines

The Guelphs and Ghibellines were factions in northern and central Italy supporting, respectively, the pope or the Holy Roman Emporor during the 12th and 13th centuries. Guelphs tended to come from wealthy mercantile families, whereas Ghibellines were predominantly those whose wealth was based on agricultural estates. They also adopted peculiar customs such as wearing a feather on a particular side of their hats, or cutting fruit a particular way, according to their affiliation.

Florence because of its trade in wool and financial interests was a supporter of the Guelphs. Then again, allegiances shifted within cities and parties often vied with each other for financial or religious reasons.

The tall towers that highlight the town of San Gimilgnano were built during the period that the Guelphs and Ghibellines vied for control and were in part built as a defense against the warring parties.

san casciano, italy

San Casciano Val di Pesa, Italy - is on the highest of the hills separating Val di Pesa from Val di Greve, on Via Cassia, 16 kilometers south of Florence. It is a quiet town, not frequented by tourists because there are many more scenic towns, most significantly Florence to the north, but also San Gimilgnano a bit further to the south. The old part of the town is protected by a castle wall and is not accessible by car. Park where you can and get out and walk. You will find splendid shops that cater to Italians.

The area facing to the north is a suburb of Florence. To the south are spectacular views of the wine and olive growing area of Chianti. The area is one for rest and relaxation after the bustle of Florence.

rainy days never get me down

Even when it rains in Tuscany, there is something to do. A short drive from San Cascione brought us to one of the many small towns that dot the hillside of Tuscany.

As it was raining, we took refuge in this small restaurant run by Marco, a waitress who always wore sunglasses, and a cook who looked to be Marco's mother, who toiled over a traditional Italian oven.


The surprise is sometimes the food, which is excellent; sometimes the setting, which is old or beautiful; and sometimes the staff, who are humanly wonderful.

Our waiter, Marco, was as gracious as could be imagined. The restaurant held no more than four tables in the one room that was open, and Marco was proud to serve his limited but delicious fare. A peek in the kitchen revealed a traditional Italian grill where the food was lovingly prepared by one cook, Mama.

Eventually, the rain lets up and it is picture perfect again.

adam, laurie, charlie, and olie

Despite adversity, the Workman family arrived at Villa Poggiale.

The adversity was a car breakdown on the autoroute at Piacenza. This was the final resting place of Adam's Volvo V4o T4. Adam said that the car was once as fast as "shit off a shovel." Now it is just "shit". The temperature gauge went from 100 degrees to 140 degrees. "I got the hood up and there was oil everywhere," Adam said. "I put water in the radiator and, like a geyser, the water rose 40 feet in the air."

Travel insurance allowed the family to be towed into the city where they were put up in at a Holiday Inn. An evening at Bella Napoli, the restaurant where all the footballers go. Then, the next day they got a rental car.

Now the Workmans are in Tuscany. We are sitting here and drinking wine out of a box, South African Red Wine with a picture of a zebra raising its tail. The wine tastes like the picture.

top five things to do in tuscany

1. Florence is the heart and soul of Tuscany. Its Duomo and Baptistery are magnificent but crowded with tourists. Florence has the Uffizi, which now must be booked months in advance with many famous paintings and sculptures. There are also Medici palaces and gardens. Stroll the Ponte Vecchio and many narrow streets and passageways. Visit the market for fresh produce, meats, and cheeses.

2. San Gimignano, the City of Beautiful Towers, is a classic medieval walled hill town, famous for its 14 surviving medieval towers creating a beautiful skyline visible from the surrounding countryside. The oldest tower dates from 1298, its duomo from the 11th century. In the interior of the cathedral, see the fourteenth century frescos illustrating the life of Christ.

Try its white wine, Vernaccia.

3. Lucca has one of the best-preserved city-walls in Italy. Atop the walls are paths and gardens, allowing you to walk completely around Lucca's historic center. Lucca has several towers from where you can get fabulous views of the city.

Lucca map.

4. Cortona is the Tuscan hill town made famous by Francis Mayes in her book Under the Tuscan Sun. Surrounded by Etruscan walls, the city was founded around 3000 years ago. Cortona is built upon the more ancient Etruscan civilization .

Google map of Cortona.

Photo from fotostock, see more.

5. Montepulciano is built on a narrow limestone ridge. Montepulciano wine is called Vino Nobile. The city has one of the most impressive main squares in Tuscany and has many beautiful Renaissance buildings. Nearby is Montalcino with a castle at the edge of the town that has wine tasting. Continuing on along the scenic route, Pienza is a small, beautiful Renaissance town.

Picture from Lovely Planet.