Walking Through History

I attended a meeting of an international women's league in Florence that was held in a stunning rooftop apartment with an important address: San Felice, 8.  This is the same address of Casa Guidi, the apartment in which Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Robert Browning lived from 1846-1861, when Elizabeth died.  There is a statue of the bust of Robert Browning in the foyer, and their apartment is now a museum. The building is on a small piazza, with the church Chiesa di San Felice (10th century) next door. Restaurants and artisan shops line the adjacent streets.  As in much of Florence, there's a mix of very old and new.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Casa_Guidi


When I left the meeting to walk home, even though I had walked this path many times, I decided to really pay attention to all of the historic monuments I passed in 20 minutes.  And, exactly how old was each of these historic buildings? The first palace I reached immediately around the corner from Piazza San Felice was the grand Palazzo Pitti, dating back to 1458 when it was owned by the prominent banker, Lucca Pitti. (The palace was bought by the Medici family in 1549.) The old palace is now a prominent museum, along with the lush Boboli Gardens which is also open to the public.

As this was January, the restaurants and bars near the Palazzo Pitti were empty, and the street was peaceful. I continued, and chose the street Sdrucciolo De' Pitti across from the Palazzo Pitti,  to reach Piazza Santo Spirito. (If I had chosen a different route, I would have reached the Ponte Vecchio, dating from 1345 and the only bridge not destroyed during WWII.) In this piazza, along with many bars and restaurants, is the Basilica di Santo Spirito. This church has a plain facade, with an iconic shape originally designed by Filippo Brunelleschi, but completed in 1487, after Brunelleschi died.  Of course, Brunelleschi is most famous for his design of the Duomo, which seems to peek around every corner throughout the historical center.

I walked across Piazza Santo Spirito, onto via Sant'Agostino, through Piazza del Carmine and reached the church called Santa Maria del Carmine.  This church was originally built in 1268, then renovated after a fire in 1711. The church is free to enter, but the masterpiece frescoes by Massacio and Masolino inside the Brancacci chapel require a separate entrance and a fee.  The frescoes, commissioned by Felice Brancacci in 1425, are believed to be the first masterworks of the Italian Renaissance. Fortunately, they survived the fire!  (NB- There is a 30 minute viewing limit for the Massacio frescoes. However, I went on a rainy afternoon in November, and I was the only person in the chapel!)

After the piazza, I walked on a quiet side street with more shops and restaurants. The now modern Hotel Horto Convento, used to be a convent. (My family stayed there for Christmas and it's lovely.) Finally, I passed through the arch of the 13th century gate of San Frediano.  The gate still has its large wooden doors and metal locks.  The architect is believed to be Andrea Pisano, who also designed the famous south doors on the baptistery in the Piazza del Duomo.

The remaining couple of blocks are filled with modern every-day life. I say hello to the young guy who works at the salume shop.  The recycling bins are full. The shoe repair is closed for the evening.  My apartment building is only two years old, but the street is named after Benozzo Gozzoli, a famous Renaissance painter.  Everywhere is a reminder of the artistic and political past of the city and the country of Italy.  How does this mix of old and new influence a population?  Like me, do long-time residents still wander into churches to marvel at the beauty, or do they just hurry along, leaving the discovery to tourists?

What will you do?

What will you do?

Wednesday, July 31, 2019

Here's a story: On June 4, 2019, I was on a morning bus to NYC for my long-awaited visa appointment.  There was a lot of traffic and the guy next to me said, "I hope you are at least doing something fun once you are in the city." I said I had a visa appointment, which I didn't think would be fun, but would lead to fun in the future. A woman standing to my right in the aisle, overheard and asked to which consulate I was going. I replied, "I'm going to the Italian consulate." She was going to the Irish consulate. We chatted a bit about making big changes in our lives. She had graduated college, lived a year in Spain, and worked there as an English teacher and piano tuner. I admired her courage. In turn, she thought my plan was cool. She asked if I was on social media and if she could follow me on Instagram. I was flattered! We swapped contact information. Sarah and I wished each other luck, got off the bus, and went our separate ways. 

When I returned to the bus station and got on line for the 3:00 bus, Sarah got on line shortly after me! On the bus, we sat next to one another and talked about our summer plans. She told me she would be working at the Aspen Music Festival and then house-sitting in Boulder for a week. Yep, the same time I would be in Boulder! We agreed to stay in touch and get together.

So, last night I met up with Sarah and her friend, Karen, for dinner at Centro Mexican Kitchen in Boulder. Karen lives in California and is starting a business to re-purpose clothes. She can sew and has interesting, creative ideas. Our common link was that we were each taking an "alternate" path, which made some people uncomfortable. We talked about how difficult it is to have an answer when someone asks, "But, what are you going to do... in Ireland, in Italy, starting a new company." We thought, "Just live... give it a go"... didn't seem to suffice. We each understood that a person means well, but those kind of questions only added to our own anxiety about starting something new. We agreed the worst that could happen is that we would say, "Oh, well, at least we gave it a try." And then, start again.

Pre-History/Pre-Mexico

Hola mi amigos!

I'm writing this post a week after returning from Mexico. I didn't blog when I was away, but did send a few emails about my activities. Now, time to "formalize" the writing.

This first entry is called "pre-history" and essentially refers to me because before I went to Mexico, I knew very little about the history of this country: there was a revolution; there are ruins; many people travel to the beach resorts on the coasts; there are drug cartels and killings; it's the homeland of Rivera and Kahlo, two artists of which I knew some biographical information. I don't speak Spanish and before I went to Mexico, I didn't love Mexican food. You might wonder why I went? Simple: it's long been on my list of travel destinations and a perfect opportunity arose.

To start: Mexico City is one of the largest cities in the world, with a population close to 22 million people. In Mexico, there are 31 states and one federal district (Mexico City). Often in writing the city is referred to as D.F. (Distrito Federal). I read that the city itself is 30 times the size of Manhattan and the country three times the size of Texas.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mexico
http://www.state.gov/r/pa/ei/bgn/35749.htm

Biking the D&R Canal Towpath

At 8:20 on Saturday morning I called a friend to say I would not join in the proposed bikeride due to a lingering head cold. Shortly thereafter another friend called and changed my mind. "When else will you have a day like this? It will be fun. Don't overthink this day, let's just go." He was right so I agreed to try another section of the D&R Canal Towpath. This time, five of us were going to meet at Washington Crossing State Park in Titusville, NJ. From there, we would ride to Lambertville, eat lunch, cross the bridge over to New Hope, PA to explore and then eventually ride back to our cars. I hastily packed sunblock, water and snacks and we got going.
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/D%26R_Canal_Trail)

The day was perfect, but certainly did not follow the original "plan". Before we even started the ride, we ate lunch at a local spot just opposite the towpath called "It's Nutts".
(http://www.itsnuttsrestaurant.com/)

Then, after 5 miles of riding, I got a flat front tire. There were gallant attempts (and jokes) from Tom, but the tire would not inflate. Technology to the rescue with help from Jay and his iPhone. The GPS indicated that we were only two miles from Lambertville and the internet listed a bike shop in the town. Yes, they had my needed tire. So, the three musketeers of Tom, Elaine and Jay rode ahead to the shop to bring back a spare tire while Dan graciously rode at a snail's pace to keep me company while I walked my bike to the shop. Because Dan and I were walking so slowly, we stopped to read information next to one of the locks. It took only three years for over 60 miles of the canal to be built, mainly by Irish immigrants. Many died during the construction. (Dan commented that it's taking longer than that for the bridge repair at Sandy Hook, NJ. True enough, but that's another story...)

After the tire was replaced, everyone needed a beer and some food! We followed the recommendations of guys at the bike shop and enjoyed a microbrew and Middle Eastern pizza and sandwiches at a restaurant just a few blocks away.
http://www.riverhorse.com/
http://www.marhabalambertville.com/

A brief walk around Lambertville revealed antique shops, restaurants, a Civil War cemetary, and a house for sale ($950,000). Then, back on the trail.

The ride to the parking lot seemed quick- no stops for repairs! Once the bikes were back on the cars, the most fitting end to the day brought us back to "It's Nutts" for homemade ice cream!

I'm not sure if this was a day more about bike riding or eating, but it doesn't matter. It was a beautiful summer day with friends, and just perfect.

Ocean Grove and the Great Auditorium

On Saturday, September 12, I declined a night of salsa dancing for an evening at the Great Auditorium in Ocean Grove to hear the NJ Opera perform Verdi's Requiem. This might seem like a rather unusual decision for someone who loves to dance, but the evening at OG seemed to be the hand of fate.

About a month ago, I drove to Ocean Grove for a day at the beach. Before setting up on the sand, I wandered around the town with my camera. I particularly wanted photos of the tent community and the Great Auditorium. When I got to the auditorium, the door was open and organ music filled the nearby green. I sat and listened, then picked up a flyer for the NJ Opera festival weekend, September 11-13. A young-ish man in shorts and a tee-shirt started to refill the flyers and after a few exchanges, introduced himself as Jason Tramm, conductor! He asked me if I wanted to see the inside of the auditorium, and of course I agreed.
A few days after that, I got an email from NJ Arts with an offer for two free tickets to Verdi's Requiem. I submitted my name and three days later was notified I had "won" two tickets. I declared "destiny", and marked my calendar.

In the introduction to the concert, the announcer told the audience that there were 150 chorus members that evening and 65 musicians in the orchestra. Joining that count were four soloists. As you might imagine, the sound was rich and captivating. However, I was completely transfixed on the speed at which each violinist moved the bow across the strings! The movement seemed faster than any I could recall and caused me once again to be amazed at the ability of human beings.

It was a great experience, though I'm eager for an opera with a story! :-)

P.S. In case you are wondering, there are 114 tents in the quaint, serene Methodist community surrounding the auditorium. There's a long wait to lease a tent, so best make other travel arrangements!

http://www.oceangrovenj.com/tour/auditorium_and_stuff.htm

Kayaks on the Delaware River

According to Wikipedia, the Delaware River forms the entire boundary between NJ and Pennsylvania, most of the boundary between NJ and Delaware, and part of the boundary between Pennsylvania and NY. The total length of the river from the head of the longest branch to Cape May and Cape Henlopen is 410 miles, with the length above the head of the Delaware Bay at 360 miles. For comparison: Nile River = 4135 miles; Missouri (before it joins the Mississippi) 2540 miles; Colorado= 1450 miles; Hudson=315 miles; Passaic= 80 miles; Raritan= 16 miles.

Since I'm not a river buff, however, none of this information had any bearing on my immediate reply of "yes" when a friend asked me last week if I wanted to join a group to go kayaking on the Delaware River. It's summer, I love the water and I'm a fairly good swimmer. I'd never been kayaking and I was excited to try. Add to that good food with friends at the end of the day. It all sounded perfect!

I could detail all the ways in which the day, in fact, was perfect: the weather, the ride through northern NJ, the friends, the food. But what has stayed with me the most, was the connection to the river and the peace that brought. The boat, the paddles, steady progress. During the course of six miles, there were times we really had to pay close attention (going through the "rapids", avoiding rocks) and other times when we could float along on the current rather carefree. As one friend kept saying, "Just let the river take you where you need to go." There's certainly a metaphor there that I wish I could apply more often to my life! When we reached the kayak's destination and were back on land, I was surprised at how completely serene I felt. I expected aching shoulders and ravenous hunger. Instead, post-kayaking nirvana. I am eager to return!
Flow with whatever may happen and let your mind
be free. Stay centered by accepting whatever you
are doing. This is the ultimate. - Chuang Tsu

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Delaware_River

http://www.nps.gov/upde/planyourvisit/boatrentals.htm

Blue Ridge Parkway and GSM Park

Today I drove 80 miles on the Blue Ridge Parkway from just outside of Asheville to the North Carolina entrance to Great Smoky Mountains National Park. (The Parkway is 469 miles in total.) I didn't intend to make that drive, but there I was at Mt. Pisgah with no biking trails and the entire afternoon ahead of me. Since I have a goal to visit all the major national parks, I decided to go ahead. The route along the parkway to the park entrance takes several hours, especially when you stop as I did at lookouts and paths to waterfalls. A person could spend weeks on all the side trails! At one lookout, I spoke with an older couple from Florida. I had my bike on the back of my car, and they asked if I was bike riding on the parkway with another woman they had seen along their way. I replied I was not. Then they went on to tell me that their son had biked across the country twice, the first time in 30 days! Well, that really got me thinking about the brave things that people do, and my road trip seemed small by comparison.

I continued driving. Needless to say, the scenery along the BRP is breathtaking. The mountains in the distance really do create a "blue ridge." For a while I listened to a recording by the Paul Winter Consort which seemed to match the mood of the landscape, but then I just drove in the silence. Along this stretch of the parkway there are periodic short tunnels through the mountain. A sign before each tunnel instructs drivers to turn on car lights. I didn't, at least not right away. I tried to see how far I could go in the tunnel before it was pitch dark and I got spooked. Most of the time I made it all the way through, but two longer tunnels required headlights!

Finally, I reached the entrance to Great Smoky Mountains National Park, though there was no grand sign to let me know I had arrived. There's no toll gate or park fee as per an agreement with Tennessee. There's a small visitor center, a rather sad replica of a Cherokee village area, and a federal road running through the park. It's a huge piece of open land- 800,000 acres. I didn't go deep into the park or to the highest peak for a 360 degree view which would have been another 45 minutes there and then back to the visitor center. Instead, I bought a lapel pin, a couple of postcards, and headed back to Asheville via the interstate. (http://www.nps.gov/grsm)

Tomorrow I drive home. I'm packed- clothes and lunch. Throughout my trip, there's been a noticeable absence of Starbucks, and I miss the familiar logo. So far the only one I've seen since I left NJ is one at the Biltmore Village.

Hilton Head to Asheville

With a mug of tea, whole wheat toast and a cd, "Bach for Breakfast", I left Hilton Head on Sunday morning to get on to Asheville.  Does it sound crazy to say I felt glad to be on Rt. 95 again?  I'll even admit I was humming Willie Nelson's song, "On the Road Again"!  The ride to Hilton Head the day before was pretty.  I stopped along the way to get peaches, peach cider, and a "moon pie". But, when I reached the hotel, it was clear that the location I selected on Hilton Head was not for me, filled mainly with families, couples, and college students. Plus, I decided I didn't want to spend another day roasting in the sun. One advantage of staying in a major hotel chain and traveling alone is that you can easily change plans, so I did!

There was one partial story I gathered at dinner.  I had checked on Trip Advisor for a restaurant nearby and found the Market Street Cafe across from the hotel.  There was a long line, but a few empty seats at the counter. I went in, ordered a glass of wine, salad and an individual vegetable pizza. Next to me was a young Indian woman holding a child on her lap.   She lived three hours away  and drove to Hilton Head for the day, though decided to stay overnight at the Holiday Inn across the street, where I was staying.  She talked about her previous job, her decision to stay home with her son (he had just turned one), and now her eagerness to get back to work.  She mentioned to the waitress next to her that she had an arranged marriage, but then let that conversation drop. I was curious and concerned that she had driven so far to have some time to herself with her son and wondered about the story behind the one she was telling.

After a quick breakfast and curious stares from a young waiter, I was ready to go.  The drive to Asheville was long, with only one delay due to what looked like a fire or explosion in the back of a tractor-trailer truck.  The cab was ok, but the back of the truck was a skeleton.

In Asheville, I'm booked for three nights at the Crowne Plaza Hotel in a large room in the new section of the hotel.  After a failed attempt to get into the Biltmore for dinner,  I drove to the famous Grove Park Inn.  I had a lovely view of the hillside and  mountains, but my dinner was the worst I've had all week.  When I said as much to the waitress, she subtracted the dinner from my bill. I didn't linger at the inn, but drove into Asheville to walk around and have dessert.  While most of the shops were closed, many restaurants and cafes were open.  The town has an artsy, alternative feel with people lingering at tables and a rock band playing in the park.  It's certainly a contrast to the hustle of downtown Charleston.  

http://www.groveparkinn.com/Leisure

Tomorrow I'm headed to the Biltmore Mansion, the largest home in America.

Fayetteville, NC

After 560 miles and many hours, I'm in Fayetteville, NC.  The driving was smooth, except for the first hour during which I went 11 miles!! Surely everyone in NJ was on the GSP at once!

For this trip, I gave myself two goals- each day do something I wouldn't ordinarily do; connect with at least two people and learn their stories.   Today, I met my goals at Ruby Tuesday during dinner. First, I don't generally eat at RT.  Second, here are the stories.  The manager, a youngish male, was schmoozing with some of the single diners.  He's from NY- Long Island.  His story is that he's moving around to both advance his career and be near SKY DIVING.  His last job in Savannah was an hour and a half from sky-diving, so that didn't work for him.  He has a mobile home and I guess moves it around.  I noticed a wedding ring but did not ask how his wife takes to all of this! The next story was from the waitress.  Slow night, lots of time to talk.  She's engaged to a man in the military.  Fayetteville is near Fort Bragg, the second largest army base in the country.  (The largest...?)  He's in Afghanistan, home for two weeks in September. They'll marry and then he'll be gone for 8 months.  Not much of a honeymoon.  She also told me there's a bar in Fayetteville that is in the Guinness Book of World Records for selling the most alcohol in one night.  She was not particularly proud of that claim to fame, but what can you do with guys home from duty-- strip clubs, bars, tattoo parlors, pawn shops abound.

http://www.bragg.army.mil/

More about birds- At the hotel there is a stucco overhang at the front entrance, common at hotels to protect people from rain while loading/unloading. On the side is the name- Fairfield Inn, Marriott.  Inside of the "a" in Marriott is a bird's nest!  Seriously.  I didn't see any babies, though.  They're probably already on their own.

Independence

Independence Day 2009 and I'm about to embark on a solo road trip for 8 or 9 days. The trip didn't start out to be solo, but has ended up that way. Consequently, I've spent some time thinking about the privilege of being independent. On a serious note, I realize that many women around the world do not have the opportunities that I have, and I am deeply grateful for my health and circumstances. On a playful side, I say, "Let the good times roll!"

Last year on July 4th I attended a barbecue at the home of a woman who was nearly 96. She still lived in the home she had inhabited for 70 years. While she had help from family and a nurse, she was able-bodied, clear thinking and made her own decisions about her day to day life. She displayed enviable independence, and I've been thinking about her all day, too.