Arriving Home

We arrived home a few days ago and I still haven't written about France, Ireland or Switzerland, but I promise I will do this.....before Thanksgiving for sure. 

I'm not sure where the time went, but I eventually became too tired to blog after the kids went to sleep and kept thinking, "I'll catch up over the weekend," but the schedule didn't slow down during the weekend and I slipped behind, first one country, then two, then three.  I'm glad we didn't stop in Luxembourg or Monaco though, because I could develop a serious nervous twitch if I slipped five countries behind.

On approaching Zurich Airport, my husband said, "Do you want to make another loop?" (aka Austria, Slovenia, Croatia, Italy, France, and Ireland)  I laughed because I thought he was joking, but upon surrendering our car at the airport, he confirmed that he wasn't in fact kidding at all.  Now, my boss, co-workers and clients have been extremely patient, but I don't think they would support another 10 weeks of leave and I wouldn't blame them.  We once mocked a French couple when they said, "Three weeks of vacation isn't long enough," but I see now how any amount of vacation can seem too little even if the person realizes how spoiled he or she sounds by saying it.

We arrived at Newark Airport at 8:30pm and it only took about 10 minutes to remind us why we think New Yorkers are the funniest people in the world.  We are always a little nervous going through customs even though we rarely smuggle anything besides HobNob Biscuits and Lyons tea.  The customs agent seemed to pick up on our nervousness, or maybe our fatigue, and he immediately demanded that my daughter provide a passport for the stuffed owl she was holding.  After she charmed him sufficiently (he had an Italian name after all), he moved to the boy, yelling "Sucker!" at him when he couldn't guess which passport the agent was holding.  Call me crazy, but is anything more funny or endearing than an official who gives your kids crap unnecessarily?

The last train home bound left an hour before we cleared customs so we rented a car for the trip south.  And we would have arrived before 2am had my husband not missed the New Jersey Turnpike exit, heading into New York City instead.  In his defense, the exit was immediately to the right after exiting the toll plaza from the left lane.  Strangely enough, crazy designs and confusing signs was my criticism of the Italian roads--one of which caused a missed exit immediately after a toll plaza.  So, I put two and two together and determined that the reason New Yorkers are funny may be the same reason their roads are dirty and confusing--it's the Italian influence.  In truth, it actually occurred to me while doing figure eights around Bologna that the civil engineers in Italy may be related to the civil engineers in New York, but the idea didn't really take hold until we were stuck in a traffic jam on a road we shouldn't have traveled with very little chance of exiting before Bayonne.  On the positive side, we had a view of downtown Manhattan while calculating how many hours of sleep we'd get before working the next day....and it was this view that kept us from slamming our heads against the dashboard in frustration.

I must confess that I felt pretty sad walking away from our little Renault in Zurich Airport--almost like it was sentient enough to feel abandoned--and surprisingly (sarcasm) there was no Renault available for rent at Newark Airport.  For five dollars more than our $150 rental fee, we were offered an upgrade to an SUV with nearly unlimited luggage space and massive cup holders.  So, although we were driving around Europe feeling superior in a 53 mile/gallon car, we sold-out the environment for a five dollar fee and large cup holders.  I'm not proud of this, I'm just saying it can happen when it's 3am in your brain, you're tired of packing your car strategically, and you want a car big enough that the kids can't actually reach each other when they start fighting and you're trying to sleep in the front seat.  I must also admit that since this was my husbands first chance to drive in over two months (he doesn't drive a stick), I wanted a car big enough that an accident wouldn't reach us if he found one. 

Luckily, we didn't get into an accident at all and we listened to radio stations from as far south as North Carolina (Chevy apparently has very powerful radio receptors) to stay awake.  At one point, a song came on and my husband said, "We heard this same song on the way to Zurich Airport yesterday."  I told him that this sounded like a pretty snobby comment and he agreed.  He also said that we were likely to say some pretty snobby things in the near future and it occurred to me that throwing-out annoying comments like "I haven't seen a boat like that since Venice," may be the reason some people go to Europe to begin with.....but hopefully we're not those people.

We arrived home a few minutes before 2am East Coast time and although it was dark, we could still see the decorations our wonderful neighbors lovingly attached to our house. 

I would lie if I said there weren't things I still miss about being in Europe, but it is also really nice to be home. 

(Above):  The last Zurich signs we saw before entering the airport.

(Below):  Proof that we drove over 9,000 kilometers across Europe.

(Below):  Proof that 9,263.8 Kilometers is exhausting for kids.

(Below):  Our sad little Renault (silver car, center) where we left it at Zurich Airport. 

(Below): Our house decorated for our arrival.

© 2012 Nicole Wirth
Author of:  Letters to Salthill 

Pisa, Lucca, and Padua, Italy

I never repeat the quote, "No battle plan survives first contact with the enemy," correctly and I never remember who said it (Helmuth Von Moltke, according to my husband and Google).  I've also never been in a battle--unless driving an RV on the Bronx Expressway counts--but whether or not the quote is literally true, it feels true and it definitely applies to the planning and execution of a vacation. 

As a result of a hotel room shortage; our campaign to create more leisure during our travels; an inopportune bout of food poisoning; and a lack of attention to the calendar--specifically the date we were expected to arrive in Toulouse, France--the Italy itinerary was squeezed into near oblivion.  We planned to go to Verona, but we stayed the night in Padua instead since there was a serious shortage of affordable housing in the former.  Our second attempt to see Verona ended ten minutes before departure when a four star hotel in Florence discounted their nightly rate by over $70 and Verona still showed no sign of being affordable. 

We planned to visit San Gimignano, but there wasn't time when--so taken with Florence--we stayed an extra night.  And the Cinque Terre went largely unexplored due to my scheduled work day and the food poisoning I mentioned above--which I blame on my husband since he stated, "We've been lucky during this trip that no one has gotten sick," two days before I became sick.  Luckily, a surgical strike to Pisa was arranged and we found a 100 Euro/night former monastery hostel inside of Lucca--a city which made our "top four places to visit" list.  So, although the battle plan did not survive contact with the enemy (aka reality), it all turned out for the best. 

Pisa:
The one picture I wish I had taken in Pisa consisted of thousands of people posing in the "I'm holding up the Leaning Tower" position.  Some people pretended to hold up the tower with their hands, others with their feet, and directions between photographer and subject could be heard in dozens of languages.  I rolled my eyes like a snob when my husband said, "You know you want one," and I said no even after I changed my mind because I'm clearly too stubborn to admit when I want to be tacky.  My son, however, says I can PhotoShop myself into someone else's picture, so I might try this some time.

One thing that surprised me about Pisa is that the Leaning Tower looks no higher than my 12 story office building (at least I think it's 12 floors, but I've never gone above the sixth and I never pay attention in the elevator).  Another surprise is that the tower is one of three buildings which make up the Campo dei Miracoli.  A social studies teacher probably told me this in high school, but if it was prom or homecoming week, I wasn't paying attention.  Also, if this was the class where that guy continually pushed my desk an inch forward until I was half a desk ahead of the rest of my row, I was equally distracted. 

A family ticket to see the Duomo, the Baptistry, and the Camposanto Cemetery only cost a total of 24 Euro (our eight year old daughter was free).  Climbing the tower cost an additional 15 Euro per person, but there was a four hour wait by the time we arrived (around noon) so we agreed to see the other two buildings and the cemetery instead. 

Something I may not have mentioned before is that the ticket takers in tourist areas are by and large unfriendly--this is especially true in Pisa.  You can say "buon giorno" and "grazie" all you like and they will not smile at you.  It's better if you don't try to make a human connection, and you don't mention your relatives came from these parts.  They don't care.  Just hand them your ticket and move along in a way that doesn't betray your disappointment because if you really wanted to meet the locals, you wouldn't be in a tourist area anyway. 

The nearest building to the entrance of the Campo dei Miracoli is the Baptistry which itself is leaning six feet to one side and has a remarkable echo when the security guard decides to yell.  The second building is the cathedral and there are a number of spooky dead people in glass coffins and pieces of dead people in glass cases which I will address in a later post called "Culture Shock".  The third building is the most famous and the one that every person who visits Pisa has a picture of (except me) with their hand holding up the top.

"Campo dei Miracoli" means "Field of Miracles", and this name was nowhere more fitting than at the American-style food stand where we bought a Coca-Cola whose core was a cylinder of ice.  Not only did this cause my husband to yell, "Woehoe!" with the Coke held high in the air, but the children took a turn hugging the bottle and holding it to the side of their faces.

Lucca:
Lucca is one of the four cities we visited during our vacation where--had we been independently wealthy--we would have sent for our things and called it home.  Lucca features an ancient wall surrounding the old town which required 100 years and one third of its citizens' wealth to build.  In case you're wondering, this exceeds the percentage of US defense spending during the Cold War.  It was money well spent, though since Lucca was never attacked by Florence or any other regional power. 

Walking or biking around the top of the wall (it's about 50 feet wide) is a good way to get your bearings in Lucca, and if you stay in the hostel where we stayed, you won't get lost since the hostel is inside and along the wall.   Renting a bike will cost $7 per hour and you can find one next to the tourist office about 100 feet from the hostel's front door.  Don't expect to rent a helmet (for adults or children) because helmets aren't used here, and luckily it was my daughter's palm, not head, that was skinned and bloodied when she fell off her bike.

Unlike Florence, Lucca is a city where you won't have fantasies of powerwashing the streets and buildings since each and every street, courtyard and building looks like it was cleaned in preparation for a visit from the Pope.  As pretty and livable as Lucca seems during the day, it is prettier and more lively after dark with cafes filled with people of every generation eating and conversing well into the night.  The wall and trees are back-lit with a Martha Stewart-esque fashion sense and the tolling of many church bells provide etherial theme music to your walk around the city.  Walking along the wall is also a safe and rewarding activity (we frequently saw women walking alone) as long as you stay away from the two foot berm at the edge because beyond that is a straight drop to where the moat would be, and there are no guard rails, and no moat.

As an interesting--or not so interesting--aside, Puccini is from Lucca, a fact which excited my opera-loving husband (who will gladly sing a few bars when the children are misbehaving), and there are opera concerts most nights in various churches (see signs pictured below).

Padua:
I've been trying to think something positive to say about Padua for a while, and I've decided that this is probably unfair since a non-asthmatic might find little or no problem with the city.  It has a church with the remains of St. Anthony which currently consists of just his tongue (you can see this in a glass case), and a very kind street vendor who chased us across the street to give our daughter more pears than those for which we paid. (Have I mentioned how much Italian men dote on blonde little girls?)  The first ever surgical theater was built here in 1594 at the University of Padua--where Galileo taught and Copernicus studied.

So, Padua is a university town with a lot of energy, and an amazing history, but it is also a town with a lot of traffic and smog.  It's not Padua's fault that I have asthma, but just let me say that we've walked up mountains and through multiple cities and I did not need my inhaler until I walked out of the hotel near Padua's historic center.  If you don't have asthma, and you don't mind loud traffic and diesel fumes, Padua may be just the place for you, but I unfortunately only got as far as St. Anthony's before calling it a day.  There are also street vendors selling religious candles outside St. Anthony's which many people purchase, then press against St. Anthony's tomb (pictured below), but keep in mind that a blessing won't keep the candles from melting when left in your car, and this we know from experience.

Padua

(Above): St. Anthony's Basilica in Padua

(Below):  St. Anthony's Tomb (Note: you're not allowed to take pictures of this tomb.  Also note that this picture came from my husband's camera.)

(Above):  The market in front of the Piazza dei Signori in Padua

(Below): The cafes replacing the market near dusk on the Piazza dei Signori

(Above): The only EU austerity protest we saw while in Europe.

(Below): The girl walking along the streets of Padua.

Pisa

(Above): The gates outside the Campo dei Miracoli in Pisa.

(Below):  The Campo dei Miracoli (Baptistry in the foreground).

(Above): The Baptistry

(Below):  The Duomo

(Above and Below):  Camposanto Cemetery

(Above and Below):  Statuary inside the Camposanto Cemetery

(Above):  Frescoes inside the Camposanto Cemetery which were peeled off the wall when incendiary Allied bombs hit the structure during WWII.

(Below):  The Leaning Tower of Pisa

Lucca

(Above and Below): A view of Lucca from the Torre delle Ore

(Above): A statue of Puccini in front of his home (to the right).

(Below): Advertisements for various Puccini concerts in Lucca.

(Above): The view from the Guinigi Tower

(Below): The kids and Brian looking over the wall after dark

 

(Above):  The Ramparts after dark.

(Below):  The wall during the day.

(Above):  The boy cycling along the top of the wall in Lucca.

© 2012 Nicole Wirth
Author of:  Letters to Salthill 

Florence, Italy

A truly great city will seem like a different place on the second day than it was on the first, and each day after that will hold new and interesting experiences.  We stayed in Florence for three days, and it was a completely new city each day.  This fact is not just due to its abundant art and ancient streets, it's also because of its citizens who will remind you of your Italian friends and relatives, engaging in lively debates over outdoor dinners that don't begin until 9pm.  They will also engage you and your children in bursts of Italian you don't understand, but lively enough gestures to communicate that they want your kids to open the trash can so they can throw away their garbage.  Once done, they'll pat your kids on the head and walk away.  After the first day in Florence, my son proclaimed, "I thought the Italians were mean at first because they're always yelling, but they're actually very nice."  As hard as it is to believe, the Italian people outclass their art.  They are in fact it's main attraction. 

We drove into Italy the day after we saw Venice which seems bizarre, but I recommend you arrive in Venice by boat even if it makes you feel foolish when you drive by the "Venezia" signs a day later.  This is especially important since someone went through a lot of trouble to make the northeastern Italian highways confusing and ugly. 

If you missed Jersey Barriers, lane drifters, left lane sleepers, tailgaters, or people passing on the right, you'll be right at home on the highways of northeastern Italy.  Also, if you've misplaced your inhaler since leaving the US, now is the time to find it since the northeast has an industry, and they'll show it to you from the highway.  I don't want to sound superior here.  The East Coast has a similar problem, I just held out higher hopes for the home of my maternal great-grandparents.  Now that I think about it though, it's probably as well that they're dead because I can imagine the fight upon arriving home and proclaiming that the highways, air and water of the Austro-Hungarian grandparents are cleaner/better than the highways, air and water of the Italian grandparents.  After all, we had to have two sets of birthday parties as it was.

In any event, if you need some perspective, the worst parts of the highway looked like a two lane version of the Jersey Turnpike near Newark and the nicest parts looked like the drive between DePere and Appleton, Wisconsin--without the billboards.  I'm not disparaging New Jersey or Wisconsin here.  Even people from these areas would say that those strips of highway aren't the prettiest parts of their state.  On a positive note, next summer when we don't have the money to go to Europe, we can drive on the Jersey Turnpike or on HWY 41 and say, "Ah, Italy."

If you drive into Florence, be careful not to drive into the restricted historical center because Florence photographs and fines each and every car that doesn't have a special Zona Traffico Limitato (ZTL) sticker, and the fine will be charged every time you pass a camera.  This can cost anywhere from 80 to 100 Euros each time.  The restriction may only apply during certain hours (7am - 7pm) and certain days (summer and weekends have different times), and your hotel may be able to call the authorities for you to reduce or remove the fine, but the hotel could charge you a substantial fee for this service. 

So, it's better to stay away from the ZTL entirely, but the stress of avoiding it seems like the last thing you need given that Vespas are swarming around you like the wasps they're named for, and the lanes are as porous as an EU border.  But if you have a vague sense of the ZTL location, your husband and children can act as lookouts for the restricted area while you point your car toward the Piazzale Michelangelo parking area on the south side of the river.  Not only does the Piazzale Michelangelo provide some of the best sites overlooking Florence (and it really is breathtaking), but it also provides free 24 hour parking (unless there is a special event).  For this information, we need to thank Rick Steves because parking in Florence for three nights easily saved us 100 Euros and his book only cost us 18. 

You may be wondering how this much stress could be worth the trouble of staying in the historical center of Florence, but I promise it is.  It is also worth the trouble of emptying the contents of your car into the parking lot in order to consolidating three nights of clothes, toiletries, food, and items you don't want stolen from an unprotected car into two rolling suitcases.  Once organized, you can either walk down the hill (which includes about 50 stairs) leading to the river and your hotel on the other side, or you could take a cab.  Now, either I'm too frugal to take a cab, or my husband is, or neither of us are but we don't mention it for fear of looking wimpy and spend thrifty to one another.  In any event, we just walked.

If you go to Florence in the summer, pack a sun dress and wedge high heels or you will feel out of place (this comment is mostly directed toward women), but don't wear them on the first day because the walk from the parking lot to the hotel will leave you sweaty, dusty, and overexposed when the wind captures your dress on the bridge and your hands are too full of luggage to put it back down quickly.  This didn't happen to me, I'm just warning you that it could. 

If you forget to bring your dress, there is a large outdoor market near San Lorenzo that sells sun dresses for 15 Euro.  They also sell leather belts for 10-20 Euro, t-shirts for 10 Euro and just about any leather or fabric product in just about any configuration.  When you get your sun dress, don't wear it inside a church without a scarf large enough to cover your shoulders and knees because the Italians don't appreciate naked shoulders and knees in their churches even though their women regularly strip on TV.  If you don't have a scarf, church security will give you what the kids and I like to call "the paper shawl of shame" (pictured below) to cover up your offending parts.  Since I decided to dress more like a mom than a woman on this trip, I had no trouble with the decency police, but that didn't stop me from wondering if one could wear long pants with the knees cut out and still get into the Duomo.  One also wonders if wearing a shirt that covers more shoulder than cleavage is allowed and exactly how much of both must be covered to be in accordance with the decency policy.  I'm not saying I wouldn't respect the Church's right to dictate modest apparel, I'm just saying that there is a lot of offending skin between the shoulders and knees that may have been missed in the fine print of this policy.

As you walk down the streets of Florence, you may wonder why this place feels so comfortable and familiar.  It may be the many shops and pizza parlors or the buildings and art you have heretofore only seen in books.  More likely, it's because nearly 50% of the people you pass are speaking English--and this is both a good and bad thing.  I will keep most of my criticism of other American tourists to myself so as not to be deemed a traitor, but just let me say that we may not be putting our best foot forward in Europe.  One example was a middle-aged American man yelling to a young newly married couple that he hoped the guy had a pre-nup, and his friends laughing like this was the first time they heard a rude comment.  Now, I completely get why this guy's wife left him, and why he needs to get drunk in a foreign country with his best friends to drown the pain, but does he need to yell his baggage to a lovely couple getting their picture taken on their wedding day?  Additionally, does he need to pretend that he didn't know his wife was only interested in him for his money?  A mirror would have given him all the information he needed.  That said, can we agree as Americans that the passports of guys like this should be revoked?  I actually have more egregious examples of bad American behavior, but this just gives you an example of the joy some of us are spreading abroad. 

If you're worried that you have a college kid in Florence and his/her bad behavior could be what I'm referencing above, rest assured that the college kids are not the problem.  They weren't up to no good and they had no plans to be--I know this because I could hear them talking from about a block away.  I also heard a young woman speaking baby talk to her boyfriend back home at a pay phone near Ponte Vecchio. She said that all her friends were going out, but she missed him too much to go along.  I wanted to call "BS" on this, but I fear she was in earnest and it was all I could do to not shake her by the shoulders and say, "You're in Florence, Italy.  Hang up the phone and go out with your friends!"

All in all, we had a great time in Florence, and my only real criticism is that you have to pull out your camera to take another picture ten seconds after putting it away.  Really.  It's exhausting to see so many beautiful things within such a small area.  Actually, a real criticism of Florence would be that many of the street musicians sound like screaming cats, but I'd like to spin this to the positive by saying there is a real opportunity for the street musicians of Salzburg to travel to Florence and make some money. 

(Above): Our first view of Tuscany

(Below):  The kids were too tired to get back into the car.  There is really no excuse for this given that the distance between Padua and Florence was only three hours.  If you're thinking that you didn't see a post for Padua, your right.  I'm still trying to think of something nice to say.

(Above and Below):  A view of Florence from the Piazzale Michelangelo parking lot.

 

(Right:) The Ponte Vecchio The oldest bridge over the Arno River (built in 1345) and the only one to survive WWII.  The top structure was built so the Medici did not need to mix with the average man.

(Above): The girl admiring the river outside our hotel which we found on Expedia the day we arrived for $125/night including breakfast.

(Below): The Piazza della Signoria well after midnight.

(Above and Below): The Duomo after dark.

(Above):  A niche of the Duomo.

(Below):  The doors of the Baptistry are credited with the birth of the Renaissance movement.

(Above): Inside the Duomo.  Light blue Paper Shawls of Shame in background

(Above): The city from the top of the Duomo.

(Below):  Between the outer and inner skin of the Duomo.



(Above): Proof that the Salzburg love lock has spread to Florence.  (We also found them in Venice and Llubljana.)

(Below): Proof that the Italians don't care about the rules, even in the Duomo.

(Above and Below):  The interior of the Duomo Dome.

(Above and Below): Basilica di Santa Croce

(Above): The Robe of Saint Francis of Assisi inside the Basilica di Santa Croce

 (Above): Tomb of Michelangelo inside the Basilica di Santa Croce

(Above):  Tomb of Machiavelli inside the Basilica di Santa Croce

(Below):  Tomb of Galileo inside the Basilica di Santa Croce

NOTE:  There is a tomb decorated and available for Dante Alighieri in the Basilica di Santa Croce, however, it is empty.  After running afoul of the Florentine authorities, Dante (father of the Italian vernacular and poet) fled to Ravenna where he died.  If you want to start a fight in Florence, tell someone that you heard people from Ravenna talking trash about how Dante would never consent to be buried in a town as dirty as Florence.

(Above): A plaque in Basilica di Santa Croce which could have been the inspiration for the male character's name in "Letters to Juliet"

(Above and Below): in front of the Palazzo Vecchio

(Above): Reproduction of David in front of the Palazzo Vecchio

(Above and Below): Florence at night.



(Above and Below): Inside the Palazzo Vecchio--the Medici Palace

(Above):  Tomb of Beatrice Portinari - muse of Dante

(Above):  Home of Dante Alighieri

(Below):  Home of Galileo

(Above): Florence at night.

© 2012 Nicole Wirth
Author of:  Letters to Salthill