Sun-Dresses and Bad Beer: Padua

Our time in the Cinque Terre was all too short:  We really wish that we had another day to sunbathe in Monterosso and jump in the water in Vernazza.  Oh well, such is the price you pay when you are trying to see everything:  Omnipresence does not come cheap. 

We caught the train back to La Spezia, and then began our cross-country voyage towards Venice.  We spent about 5 hours altogether on slow moving regional trains, with several stops between La Spezia and Padua including Parma and even Bologna:  The home of Shaffer’s old Italian teacher Professoressa Claudia Ventura.  (Shoutouts to Jonathan Todd, Katherine Wolcott and the rest of the Italian 102 crew). 

We finally arrived in Padua, a good sized city only 30 minutes away from Venice.  After some momentary confusion (which caused Shaffer to throw a tantrum and then spend 10 minutes pouting), we figured out the handy tram system, and made our way to our hotel.  It was prime real estate:  Right on the main drag next to St. Anthony’s Square.  The hotel apparently was one of the primary spots that religious pilgrims to St. Anthony’s Church stayed, and it was very serene.  It also had a great, cheap bar on the street where we spent many a breakfast and early afternoon. 

St. Anthony's

We spent a pretty quiet first night in Padua:  Watching some television, enjoying a drink down at the bar, and posting a couple of blog entries.  After our marathon hikes in the Cinque Terre, we needed a bit of downtime.  We ate dinner at a quaint little restaurant right on the piazza overlooking St. Anthonys.  It was a lovely dinner:  Amy had pasta and Shaffer had a pizza.  A local dog was the star of the night:  He kept walking in and out of the restaurant, going behind the bar, and making rounds among the tables:  We think he may have been the proprietor of the establishment.  Tiny little birds, obviously made bolder by constant human attention, begged food from us:  One was even cheeky enough to perch right on our table and solicit samples.  It was a charming evening. 

Brave bird

Restaurantuer

The next day we arose and set to exploring.  Our first stop was the Prato:  A fantastic piazza nearby our hotel, with lovely benches and a magnificent fountain in the middle.  Fruit vendors lined the exterior of the Prato.  Amy really wanted to buy some.  Shaffer, for no good reason, refused the idea.  Oh well.  Sometimes people get grouchy when they are on vacation. 

Yummy fruit.....wait, we don't know that

Shaffer and his fountains....

Our next stop was one of the best of the entire vacation:  The botanical gardens at the University of Padua.  This (allegedly) is the oldest botanical garden in the western world, dating from the early 1500s.  It is most striking perhaps in the breadth of its specimens:  There are a lot of trees of all different species to be certain, including a huge palm tree (nicknamed the Palma di Goethe) which dates from the 1700s.  But there was sooo much more than that:  Flowers, shrubs, crazy lily pads, and a greenhouse full of carnivorous plants.  Also, a full section of medicinal herbs, which was the reason that this garden was first originated.  So many of the plants looked strange, almost alien.  We marveled at all of the different plants, and enjoyed being in the shade for a bit. 

An indian in his natural habitat

Amy being attacked by a carnivorous plant....scary

Lily pads with safety fences.....for sunbathing baby frogs

Giant leaves or small person?

We found two people who look just like us!!!

Next up was the fantastic church of St. Anthony’s.  We don’t know much about St. Anthony himself, other than that many credit him with bringing lovers together.  So yay for Lorin Guadagnoli and Rob Vermillion.  Wikipedia St. Anthony if you want more info.  We’re not your damned school teachers.  We were just there to see the church. 

St. Anthony’s is gorgeous:  A massive complex spanning almost an entire city block.  Its also much different than much of the other duomi that we had seen:  Rather than Gothic, its facade and structure have a distinct eastern feel to them:  Indicative of their former allegiance to Byzantium and the Eastern Church.  It was breathtaking, and a little fun to see a different sort of church.

The interior was also amazing, at least what we got to see of it was.  About two or three minutes in, we got thrown out.  Amy was wearing a modest sundress:  Appropriate in that it was over 90 degrees outside.  We made clear to make sure it was okay with the priest at the door before we entered.  Two minutes later, a different priest came up to Amy, pointing an old bony finger at her and yelling:  “Fuori, Fuori”  (Translation:  Get Out!  Get Out!), while gesturing to her clothes.  When we tried to explain that the other priest had said that we were okay, this priest hit Amy with his robes.  We left.  Her dress was respectful:  Other women were wearing the same thing.  More over, Shaffer was dressed in a sweaty shirt and shorts, and other men sported T-Shirts with lude depictions of sexual positions.  Regardless of nationality, race, creed, ethnicity or religion, there is one constant in this world:  Some people are just assholes. 

After composing ourselves, we set off for lunch.  Shaffer had a delightful diavolo panino (A sandwich with cheese and spicy salami), while Amy’s day only got worse:  Her bruschetta was uninspired, and we were made to drink a beer called Forst, which neither of us found particularly appetizing.  Oh well.  One great thing about Padua is that it was incredibly inexpensive, especially compared with the Cinque Terre; I think that our entire meal costs us 4 euros, about half of what we might normally pay for the same thing. 

Bad beer is better than no beer....maybe

After lunch, we walked over to the University of Padua.  Or at least part of it.  It is a sprawling university, with the occasional building scattered here and there about town.  A liberal, progressive university, much of the campus is plastered with posters advocating initiatives, protests, performances, and the like.  Also, much of the university is covered with graffiti angrily proclaiming:  “No more Nazis!”  An admirable sentiment, albeit some 70 years too late. 

The university is interesting in that people graduate from it every day:  There is no uniform mass graduation.  As we walked around part of campus, one such graduate emerged from his fêting:  He looked resplendent with a large laurel wreath hung about his neck, and a train of followers regaling him with a rather crude song.  Also, graduates’ friends hang posters of the graduates around campus, illustrated with pictures, cartoons, and poems which chronicle some of the less scholarly moments of a graduate’s time at the university.  It was a lot of fun to see, and everyone seemed to be having a marvelous time. 

Graduation poster in Padova

For dinner that night we had a full Italian Cena:  Antipasti, Primi and Secondi.  Our hotel’s restaurant advertised a package deal (menu fissato) for a very reasonable price.  It ended up being very forgettable.  Like Shaffer says:  “It’s in the bargain bin for a reason.”  While Padua had some of the cheapest food of our trip, it also had some of the most disappointing.  You get what you pay for, we suppose.

A very special shoutout today to Miss Whitney Davis, with whom we just had a very wonderful, but far too brief, lunch date.  Whitney is one of our favorite people, and we missed her dearly on the trip.  It was so fun to catch up and we know in our hearts that we will be seeing her again soon. 

Up Next:  Canals, weird streets, divorcees, palaces, birds, boats, lots of walking and more pictures than we know what to do with:  Venice.

Arrivederci!

We did it our way…which was of course the wrong way: Cinque Terre

After a wonderful stay with Mike and Eileen, it was time to part.  Without our trusty steed Lucia, it was back to the trains for us.  Mike and Eileen dropped us off in Follonica, and from there we caught the train to La Spezia.  There, a short regional train connects to each of the 5 towns that comprise the Cinque Terre.

On the train again

The Cinque Terre is a national reserve, and home to five prominent towns.  Aside from these five towns there is little in the way of civilization in the Cinque Terre:  Very few cars are allowed in, and the only connection between the five and the outside worlds is via train, or hiking trails.  It is beautiful country:  Nestled against cliff sides and little harbors, the towns are little oases in a vast wilderness of flora. 

We stayed in Vernazza, the fourth town and one of the most touristy.  We had a great room on the fourth floor of an apartment building that sat right on the harbor.  The apartment had advertised an ocean view.  That’s a bit of a stretch.  If you leaned all the way out of the window, risking life and limb, you could sort of hear the ocean, but that was about it.  Regardless, it was a lovely room, and we were very close to the water.  Down at the shore, people swam in the warm Mediterranean, sunbathed on flat rocks near the water, and ate gelato all night long. 

Our "ocean" view

The first word that comes to mind as we remember Vernazza is expensive!  Our dinner during our first night cost us about 1.5 to 2 times the amount that previous dinners had cost.  We are seriously running out of money.  We don’t know how to make it more obvious to you guys.  Please donate what you can.  Don’t make us beg.  In any event, dinner was delicious.  But all dinners are delicious over here, so a dinner really has to stand out to impress us.  Amy had a fresh seafood ravioli; Shaffer had spicy pasta done all’arabiatta.  This just indicates that it is spicy, but we prefer the literal translation:  Angry pasta.  Most notable was the bread.  Bread over here is pretty bland, probably because they don’t pump it full of the unhealthy crap that we do.  This bread was different:  It tasted of salt water.  Yummm!

The next day was our hiking day.  The Cinque Terre is connected by about 5 miles of hiking trails.  Some of the trails are fairly benign, others are excruciating.  (Can you guess which trails we ended up taking?)  Much of the hikes take place on narrow dirt paths, up and down hills, with terrific vistas, and steep drops should your feet wander.  We Oregonians knew we were up to the challenge.  

Hiking to Corniglia

Half way to Corniglia

We had planned to hike from Vernazza to the neighboring town of Corniglia:  About a 90 minute hike and rated as the second most difficult hike in the Cinque Terre.  With Cappuccinos and Croissants to fortify us, we set out.  It was a gorgeous hike, with the clear blue ocean below us, and fantastic vegetation all around.  90 minutes later we reached Corniglia.  Less touristy, more gritty, and more agricultural.  On the way in we saw an ingenious tram used to collect grapes from the terraces that stretch all along the coastline.  We were getting quite hungry, and searched out some food.  Amy wanted to stop and get some pizza, but none of the pizzerias were open yet.  So she reluctantly allowed Shaffer to pick the place where we would get lunch; it would end up being one of the best decisions of her life. 

This would be our first, and sadly last, experience with foccacia, which is a local favorite in this region.  At a little hole-in-the wall bar, we each purchased a foccacia sandwich:  Salami for Shaffer; tomato and mozzarella for Amy.  Our host then warmed up these sandwiches in a George-Foreman-Grill-like contraption, for about a minute.  Afterwards, he slathered warm olive oil on top, and sprinkled the sandwiches with herbs:  Rosemary, pepper, oregano, parsley and salt.  We think these might have been the best things we ate all trip.  Shaffer just seems to have a knack for sniffing out great food in the unlikeliest of places:  He thinks he inherited the trait from his Dad, Bob Claridge, whose life-motto is:  “There are two kinds in the world:  The quick, and the hungry.” 

We had originally just planned to hike to Corniglia, but after the foccacia sandwiches, we felt as if our vitality knew no limits (famous last words).  So, we struck off towards the next town, Manarola…only to discover that the trail between Corniglia and Manarola had been washed out.  No matter, we caught a train and headed towards the southernmost of the 5 cities:  Rio Maggiore. 

Rio Maggiore

We checked out the town of Rio Maggiore a bit, before beginning our hike to Manarola.  We would write a bit more about each town if we found them more distinct.  Locals, and guide books, claim that they are, and we believe them.  However, the differences are a bit hard for the foreigner to distinguish.  By way of analogy, every good Oregonian knows that the coastal towns of Seaside, Cannon Beach, and Astoria are very different:  A tourist trap, an artsy town, and a working coastal city respectively.  However, to the non-Oregonian they probably seem very similar:  In all of the towns salmon is king, salt water taffies are all the rage, and all towns are populated by roughly the same mix of artists, retirees, fisherman, loggers, and certifiably crazy people.  Such was our experience in the Cinque Terre:  We trust that all of the towns are really very different, but had trouble discerning those differences. 

The “hike” between Rio Maggiore and Manarola is called Via Dell’Amore:  The street of love.  (Tim Costa, who believes in no such thing as love, would have avoided it entirely).  It is certainly not a hike.  Paved in its entirety, it is a scenic and romantic stroll on the side of a cliff, overlooking some of the most beautiful ocean that we had ever seen.  We stopped mid way to affix a padlock to the chain-link fence:  A local custom.  We then arrived in Manarola.  We took a lovely hike up to a terraced vineyard, and enjoyed the stroll.  Down below in the harbor, people swam and sunbathed.  Several young ladies were even sunbathing topless.  At least that’s what Amy says.  Shaffer wouldn’t know.  He didn’t see any topless sunbathers.  He swears he didn’t.  After the vineyard walk we decided we wanted one more walk of the Via Dell’Amore, so we headed back to Rio Maggiore.  

View from Via Dell'Amore

Shaffer installing our padlock

Vineyard in Manarola

Of course, no blog entry would be complete unless accompanied by some minor catastrophe.  We intended to take the train from Rio Maggiore back to Vernazza.  Somehow we boarded the wrong train:  One that did not stop in Vernazza and took us instead to Monterossa Del Mare, the northernmost town in the Cinque Terre.  Monterossa is a beach town:  Home to sun goddesses such as Sophie Kamesar and Jen Zec Reed.  We checked out the main drag, did some people watching down at the beach, and had a couple of 66s.  (Beers).  We could have just caught the train back to Vernazza, but instead decided to walk it.  We’re young right?  The hike is 2 hours long, and listed as the most grueling that the Cinque Terre has to offer.

Monterossa beaches

Yep.  There was one point near the beginning where we climbed stairs for 15 straight minutes.  No joke.  The trail was all of 16 inches wide, and we were in the direct sun for most of it.  The entire hike undulated:  You would go downhill steeply for a minute, only to climb more stairs to reach your original elevation moments later.  To add insult to injury, Amy got stung by a bee.  The hike’s redeeming quality was its beauty:  Breathtaking panoramas of ocean, cliffs, and small towns nestled in between.  When we weren’t gasping for breath from the hike, we were gasping for breath from the view.

The hike back to Vernazza

Big man on a little trail

STAIRS!

We made it eventually, and hastened to find some food.  Wary of the expensive dinner of the night before, we decided to go for a cheap alternative:  Pizza.  We found a take-out joint for cheap, and ordered a pizza with sausage, onions and bell peppers as the toppings.  What we got (as we discovered back in our room), was a pizza with eggplant, mushrooms and bell peppers.  And then Shaffer spilled the pizza all over his clothes.  Even that couldn’t spoil what was a magnificent day in the Cinque Terre.  Even our catastrophe worked out in the end:  It enabled us to see all five of the Cinque Terre towns; we had originally planned on only seeing two.  We wish we could have stayed longer, but we had a date with the Adriatic to keep. 

Back home in Vernazza

Up Next:  St. Anthony, cheap meals (finally), mean priests, college graduates, bad beer, trains, and an oboe:  Padua.

Arrivederci!

A Duomo with a view: Florence

We woke up early (which on vacation means that we had to be up by 7, horrors!) and got back on the road towards Florence.  Florence was one of the destinations which most piqued our interest.  It is the birthplace of the Renaissance, and the home of so many of the great artists, sculptors and writers important therein.  It is the home of Michelangelo’s David.  It is the home of Shaffer’s favorite soccer time.  It is the birthplace of gelato.  If you let the locals tell it, it is the birthplace of just about everything good in life.  And you know, they are not altogether wrong. 

Shaffer was really hoping to see the soccer stadium.  Florence’s team is called Fiorentina, and for a long time Shaffer’s favorite soccer player (Gabriel Batistuta) played there.  After spending the better part of 10 years there, Batistuta was traded away to Roma.  He returned to a standing ovation.  During the match, Batistuta scored a tremendous goal for Roma.  The Florence fans cheered wildly for him, and his teammates rushed to embrace him.  Batistuta stood stoic.  After the match a reporter asked him what it felt like to score one more goal in Florence’s stadium.  “It felt like killing my family” Batistuta replied, choking back tears.  Take some goddamn notes, LeBron.  Watch it here:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yptEUrgqYN0

We parked on the wrong side of the tracks, but still had to pay an outrageous amount for it.  (20 Euro for just over 8 hours of parking).  After slumming through some of Florence’s rougher districts, we finally hit the Pitti palace and Florence-proper.  The Pitti was an impressively large building that now houses a modern art museum.  It was a striking dichotomy:  The medieval majesty of the palace juxtaposed against the bizarre, multihued sculpture that sits outside. 

Art in front of the Pitti Palace

Much of Florence is a juxtaposition.  Many of the towns we had visited, both fore and hence, had remnants of a medieval life in them.  Most of these towns were in many ways still stuck in medieval times:  Well preserved and perpetuated primarily by the tourist industry.  Florence was much the opposite:  Interwoven in the rich Renaissance tapestry of the city are the threads of a bustling, modern city. 

Our first stop was Il Ponte Vecchio (The Old Bridge).  The only Renaissance bridge to survive the destruction of World War II, Ponte Vecchio is contemporarily most famous for the gold and silver shops that line its arcades.  With all of the jewelry, along with the hundreds of locals and tourists that are on the bridge at any given time, it must be very well constructed to deal with all of the weight. 

View from the Ponte Vecchio Bridge

We next hit Palazzo Vecchio (The Old Palace).  Outside the palace were marble sculptures, many of them reproductions.  One such reproduction was Michelangelo’s David.  The real David once stood here, but was moved when it was damaged after a riot.  David now sits in the Accademia, where you have to make reservations a full month in advance in order to get in.  WE didn’t have reservations (or money), so we were tickled to see any David, even a reproduction.

Fake David

Next was the medieval home of Dante Aligheri.  Dante was a Florentine poet who most famously penned “The Divine Comedy,” in which he and various historical figures tour Il Paridisio (Heaven), Il Purgatorio (Purgatory), and Il Inferno (Hell).  We visited his former house, which has been renovated into a museum detailing his works, as well as a sort of primer on Florentine history and politics.  Shaffer was very excited about it; and everyone else was nice to humor him.  Jen Costa would have loved it too:  Being an English major and ardent Dante fan.  Tim Costa also would have loved it, given his passion for human suffering. 

Dante's House

After Dante’s house we reentered the twisting Florentine side streets, and snaked towards Florence’s Duomo.  The view blew us away.  It must have been two to three times the size of Siena’s.  We had never seen a church that big; we had seen very few buildings anywhere that big.  Not just tall, big.  Tall, wide, broad, and deep:  BIG!  We marveled at it for a good 20 minutes before we started noticing a rumble in our tumble.  That’s Shaffer-talk for, we were getting sort of hungry.  We paid way too much for pizza at a joint a couple of blocks away from the Duomo.  And we got yelled at for some reason that still escapes it.  Whatever.  It hit the spot, and we had few alternatives.  Pizza nazi. 

Duomo

We booked a tour of the Duomo.  There was about an hours’ wait to get in, and our tour was cheap, gave us access to parts we would not be able to see otherwise, and allowed us to skip the lines.  However, it didn’t start for a few hours, so we set about exploring the city.  There was so much to see:  Old churches, shops, markets, and a tremendous skyline.  We stopped and bought some fresh fruits served in cups for a couple euro, and were just content with exploring.  The highlight was probably and open air market that had everything:  Soccer jerseys, Italian leather, tourist trinkets, and even fresh fish.  We lost ourselves in the experience, and just enjoyed the city. 

Pretty soon the time came for our tour.  We had a very helpful guide named Ilaria (Italian for Hillary), and she explained the inside of the Duomo to us.  For as big as the Duomo was on the outside, it was pretty sparse inside.  The Siena Duomo was ornate, even opulent.  The Florentine Duomo was more solemn, reverent even.  The interior of the dome was covered with a breathtaking fresco.  Then it was a long march up 200 stairs.  As we climbed, Shaffer began to feel something.  Something primal, from his childhood maybe.  But he couldn’t quite put his finger on it…

As we emerged into the beautiful afternoon sun, some 200 feet off the ground, Shaffer remembered what it was that he was feeling.  Shaffer is afraid of heights.  Well, afraid might actually not be the right word:  Terrified is more like it.  Despite the grandeur of the view, the vertigo was nauseating.  It was like trying to walk on a giant sponge.  Or a swampy bog.  People milled around like fruit flies below.  In the distance we could see the Pitti palace, Pallazzo Vecchio, and Santa Croce.  It was awesome.  It was terrifying. 

On the way up the dome of the Duomo

More steps (300 more, to be exact), were to follow.  Interspersed through our ascent were close ups of the fresco, with the faces distorted so as to be seen correctly from far below.  A cool 3D mosaic on the church floor sprang to life as we were far above, and the lady behind us started freaking out.  Her 5 year old kid had to calm her down. 

We finally emerged at the top, and the views were breathtaking.  The dome is some 400 feet (40 stories) tall.  By law, it is the tallest building in Florence, so you can see everything from up there.  Shaffer’s vertigo had abated somewhat, and he was able to enjoy the view from the top.  We lingered for half an hour, snapping many photos, and enjoying the scenes.

Made it ma- top of the world

The descent was a claustrophobe’s nightmare.  (Thankfully both of our phobias begin with A’s:  Acrophobia for Shaffer; arachnophobia for Amy).  Both ascent and descent are affected between the exterior and interior domes:  A space no more than 16 inches wide.  If you pass someone going the opposite direction, the only choice is to turn sideways and rub yourself all over the other person.  We all got to know each other pretty well on the trip down.

Getting cozy in the dome

Unfortunately, we had to leave without seeing the soccer stadium.  We all searched diligently on maps and signs, but it was nowhere to be found.  Even from the top of the Duomo we could see no vestige of it.  We figure it probably is in some suburb out of town.  Oh well.  Shaffer got a hat to commemorate his time there, and we could feel the pulse of the team throughout the city.

New hat; same old in-laws

We stopped in the middle of nowhere for dinner.  It was a beautiful setting:  Perched on a hillside overlooking a wooded valley, with the sound of farm animals in the background.  And the smell of manure.  Shaffer finally tried wild boar, which tastes a lot like beef, only gameier.  Amy had some sort of pasta. 

Restaurant on the way home

As we rounded the final bend coming back to Punta Ala, our diligence was rewarded as we finally solved the mystery of a good friends’ origins.  At a local market, a merchant was unloading a shipment from a truck proudly flying the banner of the Guadagnoli Fish Company.  No joke. 

Special shoutout today to Trevor and Tasha Stephens.  Trevor and Tasha are having a joint graduation party today.  We wish we could be there to celebrate with you guys.  We’ll have to see each other when we get back into town.  We are so very proud of both of you, and wish you all the success in the world.  We have every confidence that both of you will do very well:  Tasha in her undergraduate career; Trevor in law school at the University of Oregon.  Trevor, Shaffer’s very much looking forward to buying you a beer in just a few days.  Well done guys. 

Up Next:  Trains, beaches, cats, expensive dinners, the wrong kind of pizza, forced marches, heaven in a sandwich, and breathtaking beauty:  Vernazza, and the Cinque Terre.

Arrividerci!