PORTLAND PICKLE VOL. 1 ISSUE 4

It’s been a while since I put pen to paper, or more accurately fingers to keyboard, so I suppose you are deserving of an update and a few pretty pictures, as I so cavalierly promised in the last edition.  Portland seems to have been the perfect choice for the art/act of recuperation.

LOOKING SOUTH TOWARD THE COSMO

There are three city parks within five blocks of our door, each with its own distinct character.   From our living room window we look out on The Fields Park and the Fremont Bridge.  If you are foolish enough to look it up in Wikipedia you will be informed: The 3.2 acre park consists of a one-acre lawn/common area, sitting areas, a strolling path, entry plaza, Portland Loo restroom, and a large childrns playground.   It is about

FIELDS PARK & CENTNNIAL MILLS

perfect for a morning constitutional and we are by no means the only folk using it as a walking track.  Four laps provides about a mile of walking with benches and dogs and stairs, people to chat with, occasionally the local kindergarten using the play area, and, and, and . . . Certainly beats mall walking, those people are way to serious! 

One block the other direction is Tanner Spring Park, the total antithesis of Fields Park. Tanner Springs Park is quiet and reminiscent of a wetland. If you take the time to examine the reader boards you will discover the intent was to “recreate”, in miniature, what this area may have looked like prior to the industrialization that once characterized the neighborhood. Tanner Creek and a lake, which once ran through the area, exists today as a spring and a

BLUE HERON

stream, running into a pond filled with wild grasses, water lilies, ducks and on occasion a Blue heron. One “wall” of the park is an artsy installation composed of upright railroad ties interspersed with translucent pieces of blue glass. The signs claim the railway ties and the cobbles paving the walk ways are recycled from previous uses in the area. It isn’t the first time I have read about cobbles, which were used as ballast in ships being re-imagined as pavers

TANNER SPRING PARK

for streets and paths. Where Fields Park is busy with dogs and children playing, Tanner Springs is quiet and contemplative with the occasional sound of the streetcar that runs along its perimeter.

11th & LOVEJOY

If you carry on another couple of blocks, following the wooden boardwalk that begins in Fields Park, you will arrive in Jamison Square. At the center of the square is a series of rocks and steps looking, when dry, a bit like a broken wall. Periodically streams of water gush from the rocks creating a sizable pool which attracts local families with children creating a wet and festive playground. Just as randomly as the water drains away leaving damp bricks and impatient children waiting for the return of their manmade tidal pool. This park, much like Tanners Springs, despite being only one square block, offers plenty of diversity.  

JAMISON SQUARE PARK

There are grassy knolls and tree shaded paths with park benches that are reminiscent of a Parisian parks. There are a scattering of picnic benches and the ubiquitous Portland Loo, which the Parks Department is diligent about maintaining.

Enough travelogue. So, how is Mick doing? Initially this was the extent of our rambles, perhaps five blocks (and Portland has short blocks). In point of fact, I think his first venture outdoors was probably 100 yards round trip. It is amazing and disheartening at the same time to realize how much progress he

11th & NORTHRUP

has made, and how much still remains to be accomplished. We are now doing upwards of three plus miles a day (10,000 paces) but put a long upslope or stairs in to the mix and all bets are off. Naps, they feel so decadent and luxurious, (how delightful to have a medical professional encourage you to indulge) are still a big part of the daily regimen.

To look at him you would never know that anything serious had happened. That is unless he takes off his shirt. Oh, my! The scar down the middle of his chest is relatively unobtrusive, the bruises are another story entirely. They are fading to a lovely shade of
blue and yellow, looks as though he got the short end

OVATION - the place for Morrocan Mint Tea

of the stick in a bar fight. The pair of holes on either side of his belly just above his waist are like two beady black eyes staring at you. Guess this is where the drains were “installed”. Sounds a bit like plumbing rather than surgery. Top that off with a shaved chest which is beginning to grow back, he is quite the sight.

CONTAINER SHIP ON THE WILLAMETTE - 3 BLOCKS AWAY

The long and short of it, all systems go. Stamina, the prohibition on reaching over his head, and the necessity of sleeping on his back, are the only obvious outstanding issues from the our current adventure. I, for one, shall be thrilled when he can return to being a side sleeper. The return of quiet to our bedroom (well, except for the garbage trucks outside our window) will be pure heaven.

PORTLAND PICKLE VOL 1 ISSUE 3

We are definitely in recovery mode and I should probably be sharing a bit more about what this whole grand adventure has been about.  Open heart surgery, even just the phrase is fraught with the sense of impending doom.  I am here to report that the medical profession treats it as just another “day at the office”.  And from what we have been told and based on my understanding of what Mick has experienced, it’s pretty accurate for a significant minority (as in 40%) of those who undergo the procedure.  Yes it is incredibly invasive, and yes the anaesthesia and narcotics really do a number on your sense of well-being.  But for those lucky ones the pain is minimal, a couple of Tylenol a day will take care of that.  It is a feeling of total exhaustion that seems to permeate your whole being that’s the most difficult thing with which you have to deal.

While still in hospital he was treated as a bit of a pincushion.  If they weren’t pumping drugs into his system, they were extracting or draining various fluids out of it by way of assorted tubes from innumerable and diverse portions of his body.  If that is not indignity enough they still expected him to stand up and take a stroll around the ward trailing bags and wheeled poles, all the while dresses in a stunning hospital gown.    To add insult to injury, for the first three days, there was an hourly finger prick to check insulin levels.  What the relationship between heart surgery and blood glucose might be I have no idea, but consider what a minimum of 36 pin pricks in the end of your fingers must look and feel like.  As I said, a human pin cushion. 

Learned that one of the ways they use to determine how well you are recovering from the drugs is to ask personal questions.  Such as, how old are you, or when were you born?  I always thought that the DOB thing was about being sure they have the right person but it is more about how lucid you are.  They actually scan your arm band and link it to your medical records on the computer.  Next thing you know we all have a bar-code tattooed to our wrist or a chip implanted in our neck.  Too much like big brother is watching for my taste but in an environment like a hospital it does have value.

I knew things were improving when he demanded that someone give him a shower, or at least a wash down in the bed.  In British parlance also known as a blanket bath.  Next request was a razor, nixed by Ben on the grounds that he could hardly stand up, never mind wash his face and then drag a blade across his chin, all while connected to all their monitoring equipment.     

Between a white board in his room and a glass door panel with grease pen markers they catalogued who was on duty, which therapists (respiratory, physical or occupational) were expected to visit, how many walks he had taken, how many times he had sat up in his chair (a comfy looking recliner), the does and don’ts of “sternal care”, and other bodily functions and measures, oh my!

Sternal care, now there’s a euphemism for you.  What it really means is they cracked open your chest, mucked around inside, wired it back together, quickly basted (a sewing term) the opening back together and then said “be careful” you don’t want things falling out in your lap.  In the end our rules for living (aka guess what Gayle gets to do) over the next six to eight weeks are:

• ·         No lifting anything weighing more than a gallon of milk (10 pounds)
• ·         No pushing or pulling anything heavy, like doors and windows or garbage cans or even unscrewing tight jar lids (hmmm)
• ·         No putting your arms over your head, i.e. No high cupboard, careful putting on shirts, jackets and t-shirts.
• ·         No reaching out to the side, turn your body instead.  The horror story to go along with this one was the gentleman who reached from the front seat to the back seat of the car to hand his grandchildren something and had to have the all their seamstress like handiwork redone.
• ·         No driving. 
• ·         Use a pillow against your chest to hug yourself when coughing or sneezing.  It also works well when getting up and down as a reminder not to use your arms.  
  
• ·         Avoid using your hands to push yourself up from a sitting position, or when getting out of bed. 

Early on I would help him get out of bed (remember, now he is restricted to sleeping FLAT on his back) by putting a hand behind his shoulders while he swung his legs over the edge of the bed in hopes that the momentum would propel him in to a sitting position.   Now, with no assistance from me, he goes through an acrobatic manoeuvre akin to something a break-dancer might do to get from his back to his feet, all the while holding his arms across his chest. 

So, not many pretty pictures this time but our next instalment should be entitled the walking fools.  And if I can get my head in to it, a series of images of walks in and around the Pearl.  In closing know that we/he is making great progress, all systems are normal and the prescribed therapy is walking, and walking and more walking.  With of course many intermittent naps in between.  

PORTLAND PICKLE VOL 1 ISSUE 2

UPDATE:  All is good and we’re back in the condo trying to establish a new sense of what is normal.  But more of that later, I did promise something of a mini travelogue in conjunction with medical bulletins.

So what does a family of four (Leigh, Ben, Dino and me) do when they have had enough of hospitals and hospital rooms.  Eat and shop, of course.  Ben and Dino have just bought a condo in the Mission District of San Francisco, so as you may well imagine, shopping for furniture and fittings is pretty high on their agenda.  And it certainly doesn’t hurt that there is no sales tax in Oregon.  An outlet mall on the east side turned out to have a selection of shops for all comers.  I’m just glad they didn’t choose the one in Woodburn, about 30 miles south of town.  It’s so big I think we would still be

shopping, in an attempt to see every possible business.  Had a productive visit to the Pendleton Outlet.  They actually had some seconds at real savings and most of their stock didn’t feel as though it was purpose manufactured for the “outlet market”.

As we all know, shopping makes you hungry, so we turned to our restaurant guru, Mr. Constantine Konstantakis (aka Dino) for a recommendation.    He is totally amazing at deciphering the YELP and coming up with unique dining establishments.  I want to let him loose in the hinterlands of the UK and see what we find.  His latest score, Shirley’s Tippy Canoe in

Troutdale, Oregon.  It’s what might be termed a “road house” at the side of the “highway” along the Sandy River.  We were well outside the liberal sprawl of Portland and easing our way in to the more red-neck part of the state.  A two land road, banks of trees, trailer parks and old dilapidated cottages as well as modern McMansions dot the landscape and possibly, most disturbing, what the boys identified as a white supremacist flag in someone’s front yard.  Welcome to Oregon, the western headquarters of the Ku Klux Klan.  We pulled up in their tarmac and gravel parking lot with few other vehicles around.  It is a curious building and my impression was of a conglomeration of multiple building and add-ons, kinda like Topsy, it grow’d.  Passing through the doors and we were greeted with a number of locals belly up to the bar.  Rumor has it this was once a biker bar, so, they seem to be carrying on the tradition.

We had hoped to sit outdoors, but Mother Nature was not cooperating so we chose a table with a view of the outdoor garden and the river.  I don’t remember what the others ordered but I do recall that everyone was thrilled with their meal.  I went for their special, cubes of toasted sourdough, topped with small shrimp, smothered in clam chowder, sprinkled with cheese and green onions and baked.  Their claim to fame is apparently a homemade Sloppy Joe.  Strictly comfort food but my guess it really is made from scratch, in house. 

After filling our bellies we made the pilgrimage up the Gorge to Multnomah Falls.  It is still a delightful location, but after last year’s fire access is severely restricted.  Most of the old road is closed and the only access by car is from the highway.  Once there hiking is virtually non-existent.  You can’t even climb up to the bridge.  The extent of the burn is not particularly evident, perhaps some burnt trees on the ridgeline.  Guess they worked real hard to preserve the location and associated buildings. 

Having started the food thing, let me tell you about After Dark Cookies, a gift from Ernie (a Rhodesian Ridgeback) via his people Hubert and Stacy Ban.  A knock on our door (a surprise in and of itself) produced a young man with a delivery of four each, of six different types of cookies, hot from the oven.  And did I mention the two pints of ice cream.  Welcome to Portland, the land of food.  Small wonder people

say newcomers to the city gain 15 pounds.  You should have a look at their FAQs AFTER DARK COOKIES if you need a giggle.  Apparently you can only get deliveries Thursday thru Sunday after 8 p.m.  I can definitely recommend their Snickerdoodle, a personal favorite of mine.    This is definitely a business I did not need to know about.  Who can resist freshly baked cookies, on demand!

We did actually visit with Mick in between shopping and eating.  He was moved from the intensive care cardiac unit to the telemetry unit about 36 hours after surgery.  The drugs kept him pretty groggy so conversation or prolonged visits were not particularly satisfactory.  We made the pilgrimage twice a day and fortunately it was an easy drive from our place.

Hospital food is not exactly what one would call wonderful, but Providence takes it to new heights of inadequate.  Fortunately he wasn’t particularly interested but was well enough to remark that it wasn’t what one would call a peak experience.  We did sneak in some elicit Safeway Chinese which met with his approval.  And then there was the peanut butter and graham crackers, which under normal circumstances would be totally unacceptable.  Amazing what feels wonderful and exotic when you are flying high on narcotics.  The one plus from his point of view, no one tied to serve him Jello or pudding.

Long story short, he came home on Saturday afternoon.  The doctor had said that about 40% of people go home using nothing more than acetaminophen for pain relief and this is true for Mick.  The biggest challenge is the exhaustion and lack of energy, which was also to be expected.  It’s just that you can’t really know what that is unless you experience it.  We’re back in the condo, the family has left and we are experiencing what our friend Cynthia Care calls “Deep Local”.  We have become very familiar with the two blocks around our building.  The view from the window with children in the playground and dogs in the park is better than tv.  The weather has been pleasant, he’s on the mend, what more can you ask of life. 

PORTLAND PICKLE Vol. 1 Issue 1

Hello from Portland, Oregon.  The Ashland Avatar is going on hiatus for the next month or two.  In fact it will be reinvented for the short term as The Portland Pickle.  Next disclaimer  . . .  many of you know that Mick was diagnosed with a mitral valve (heart) problem and has just gone through open heart surgery.  That said many more of you were totally unaware of this event and really only follow the Avatar as a means to do a little armchair travel.  So, after this installment, if the title is the Portland Pickle you can anticipate a blog about our experience with surgery and recovery in Stumptown.  When it reverts to the Ashland Avatar you can expect further adventures in travel.

This whole episode came as a total surprise to both of us but then who plans or expects to have heart problems or require open heart surgery.  That phrase “open heart surgery” is really quite terrifying, but the medical profession seems to treat it as just another surgery.  Love the response from his primary care physician . . . He initially schedule an appointment for something mundane like an ingrown toenail or some such and in the course of conversation mentioned that he was unable to run as far as he once had and was enjoying a midafternoon nap more than occasionally.  This prompted her to do an EKG while he was there in the office just to see if it showed anything of interest.  After reviewing the results she walked in to the exam room and commented “well, aren’t you a surprise!”  

Long story, short, from there it was a referral to a cardiologist, a bunch of tests and exams and ultimately a diagnosis of a leaky mitral valve and an

additional hole in the valve itself which was producing a jet of blood back in to the heart chamber.  The specialists all found this quite entertaining and unique and were anxious for a good look/see. 

If you are going to do something as dramatic as have you rib cage split open, or as the surgeon so eloquently put if “crack you open like a lobster” you may as well do it somewhere where the recovery will be a little more entertaining than sitting in a lovely, though ultimately not particularly stimulating environment, like a single family residential neighborhood like Ashland, Oregon.   

We opted for Portland, where the surgeons have more experience, walking during rehab does not require an uphill slog regardless of what direction you go, there are services that will deliver food and do you shopping for you and the view out the window is endlessly entertaining. 

So Portland it is.  We did our research, thank you Benjamin for your assistance, made our plans, informed our kids (sorry you may be adults but you will always be kids to us), reviewed and updated our Advance Directives and transplanted ourselves to Portland for the foreseeable future.  Leigh, Ben and Dino have joined us for the week and surprisingly two of the hoteling suites in the Cosmo were available.  So it’s happy family time, which, we all recognize is absolutely wonderful and totally chaotic all at the same time. 

Portland, and the Pearl in particular, is totally walkable, 10,000 paces a day, no problem.  The first day we were all together, Sunday, we explored the Saturday Market (a bit of an oxymoron I understand) walked the waterfront and had a quick explore of the gallery district.  Capped it off dinner at Grasso (I think that’s the name) which is a new restaurant by the owner of Lardo that specializes in pasta.  Totally casual, you order at the desk on your way in and they deliver to your table (communal).  The pasta was really outstanding and their eggplant parmesan bites a delight. 

Monday, our first face to face visit with the surgeon, left the rest of the family on their own to entertain themselves.  Leigh remarked that at the end of the day her Fitbit registered in excess of 20,000 paces and 11 miles.  Dino did the research on places to eat and Ben made friends with every dog in sight.  Need to hire him to stay a while and introduce me to all the dogs and owners who frequent Fields Park which is the view out our window. 

So where are things now . . . Surgery was this morning, had to get up at 4 a.m. and be at the hospital for no later than 5:15.  The things you do for love!  Providence Hospital has it down in terms of making things flow, providing guidance and assistance where and when needed.  Really impressed.  If you want to know more specifics about that or the surgery specifics just email me and I will share.  Otherwise, I will leave off for now with the fact that the surgery is over, the doctor was pleased with the procedure and didn’t need to do a valve replacement, just a repair.  As I said in a previous text to some of you no need to save up your pig jokes, some portion of his heart might have gotten zapped or toasted but there is no smell of frying bacon.  We’re going back to see him this evening when might actually be conscious and not be hooked up to so many machines.  Going forward I hope to share the recovery and rehab process while expounding on the newfound delights of living in Portland.  Hoping this won’t turn in to a medical treatise or morose descriptions of problems and process.  There’s gotta be some fun in it somewhere.  Like, the joys of being asked to take 3 iron tablets a day or the whether sleeping in a recliner (hopefully not one of those where you push the button and it propels you on to your feet) is really necessary. 

ITALY ADVENTURES 2017 ISSUE III

So, I left off in Venice and I am certain there was oh, so much more I wanted to share.  However, time, tide and memory wait for no man and alas it is all gone.  

OUR BUS

Next stop Florence, or in Italian, Firenze.  We actually make it there for lunch time with no intervening stops.  Having said we arrived relatively early, this does not make allowances for what the bus driver had to do to get near to our hotel which was in the pedestrianized portion of the city.  I am quite certain we went around the block several times, due to one way streets and traffic, only to park on a street we traversed several time but on the opposite side.  Then it is offload your luggage and prepare for more cobbles and playing dodgems with automobiles.  Our hotel is down a narrow lane not far from Medici Chapel.  You could easily walk right past if you didn’t know what you were looking for.  A modest, nondescript doorway between a café and some other commercial establishment, but across the street from a rather excellent gelateria.  It’s the de rigueur hike up several

flights of stairs.  Once again, it isn’t grand and I am sure every room in the place is different from the next, but they are clean, neat and the beds have been great. More than that, it fulfils Rick Steves signature benefit, location, location, location. 

To say no cars are allowed in the center of Florence would be an exaggeration and there are definitely mini buses for public transit, but they do their best to minimize traffic.  My memory of 50 years ago says there were even fewer vehicles than we see now.  Guessing there are just that many more people now who live in the center, own cars and expect to be able to have access to their homes.  1970 was a time when far fewer people depended on personal vehicles for transportation and probably did not travel that far to work each day.  
 

We do a quick introductory tour of central Florence picking off the Cathedral, Uffizi Gallery, a gelato and Plaza della Signoria en route to Galleria dell’Accademia to see Michelangelo’s David.  Nice touch, the tickets were purchased in advance, so no standing in line.  David has pride of place at the end of a long gallery beneath a skylight dome which emphasizes the immense size of the statue and changes the quality and color of the marble as the outside light changes.  The gallery or

Hall of the Prisoners also contains several other unfinished works by Michelangelo.  They, much like David, are more than life size and they seem to be trying to escape from the marble.  How anyone could begin with a block of cold stone and end up with something as awe inspiring as some of the sculptures we have seen is incomprehensible to me.

Another room of the museum, The Gipsoteca Bartolini, is just vaguely creepy.  It contains a whole series of plaster casts of faces and bodies, presumably of other statues, or maybe of real people, it is not quite clear.  They are all this deathly plaster white and are displayed row upon row, face after face on shelves and tabletops and pedestals that fill the entire room.  We

move on, but there is little else to capture our attention, besides we have to get back to the hotel so we can gather for an evening meal of bistecca alla fiorentina in a nearby restaurant.

 
What is special about bistecca alla fiorentina, you ask.  Allow me tell you.  Traditionally the meat for a Bistecca alla Fiorentina comes from a Tuscan breed of cattle called the Chianina.  Since this is a traditional Florentine dish, it may explain why there are so many leather goods in Florence.  Were you to ask our restaurateur he would happily explain to you that cooking a Bistecca alla Fiorentina is definitely an art. The steak should always be cooked from room temperature and never from the fridge. A high temperature is required and the steak is cooked for just 3–5 minutes on each side, turning it only once.  Bear in mind I am not talking about paltry steak like you might see at home we are talking about a piece of meat that probably weighs three (3) or more pounds and is 2 or more inches thick. The outside of the steak should be almost charred, and the inside very rare and only warm, certainly not piping hot.  Do I think we got an especially good 

steak, probably not, but it was fun and watching it being cooked in front of us was decidedly entertaining. 
I no longer remember what came with our steak, although almost undoubtedly there was a pasta course and of course dessert.  Have I mentioned this before, it is advantageous to be at the same table as the tour guide, the wine definitely runs freely. 

Baptistry

It is very nearly impossible to get a decent photo of the cathedral since there isn't much of a plaza in front of it.  It is pretty darn impressive, it is so intricate and there is so much going on it becomes difficult to focus on all the details.  Moreover the colors are so unusual, a combination of pink, green and white marble.  

Bell Tower

Cathedral

A few more places of interest, the Uffizi Gallery with a docent led tour, outstanding.  The bronze boar whose nose you are supposed to rub to ensure your return to Florence and of course the Ponte Vecchio.  The current bridge dates from medieval times and constructed of stone, although there has been a bridge here since Roman times.  Initially there were butchers in shops on the bridge, perhaps a way dispose of the remains, but it has traditionally sheltered jewelers since the Medici family built there palazzo across the river from the center of town and used the bridge as a means to access the town down below.  

ERRATA

Best advice in Venice, if you are feeling lost, keep walking in a straight line, you will eventually find the Grand Canal

House numbers in Florence are generally on white enameled squares.  A blue number means the building is residential, if the number is in red it is commercial.

Tour bus operators pay enormous fees for permits to access the city centers of the more touristy places such as Florence, Sienna, Rome or Pisa.  I want to say it $300 just to park on the outskirts of Pisa. 

ITALY ADVENTURES 2017 ISSUE II

Now begins our Rick Steves tour, way too many cities in just 17 days.  At a little over a week in and I am already confused by where we went and in what order.  A quick review of our itinerary tells me our first stop was Castlerotto, in the north east corner of the country.  This is where the Dolomites

intersect with the Alps.  Mick could probably tell you a whole lot more about the geomorphology of the area, for me it is just beautiful mountains.  This is a ski area in the winter and a hiking destination in the summer.

Several of our group tackle some serious hikes but the majority of us settle for a wander in the panoramic upland meadow, with a stop for hot chocolate and cookies. It is a truly beautiful location with little to do except enjoy the out of doors.

My declared intent was to eat my way through Italy but this stop entailed an included dinner at an excellent restaurant that featured some outstanding German food.  I chose Wiener schnitzel and I think Mick had some sort of big German dumpling and stew.  Regret not ordering the lamb

but managed to snag a taste from another diner any way.  

 As I look back at my pictures I realize that our first stop was not Castlerotto but Verona of Romeo and Juliet fame.  Not to mention two Gentlemen of Verona and the Taming of the Shrew.  It quickly becomes obvious, the pattern for the trip is on the bus between eight and nine, a stop on the autostrada for toilets and a quick espresso and a sightseeing stop for lunch.  Back on the bus to our final destination and spend two nights.  Local  sight seeing on day two, sleep and repeat. 

Verona was a walking tour with a local guide who pointed out some of the architectural details that help define the place and its history.  One of the things that intrigued me, and admittedly something she stressed, was the crenellations or shape of the top of the parapets. 

The explanation was that the “M” or swallowtail shape denoted a Germanic influence rather than papist.  This is not to say they weren’t Catholic but by her explanation a bit more socially independent.  The parapets with a shape more like an upside down “u” or "n” indicated strong support for the pope. 

We were able to see the exterior of the local Roman Arena which is still being used for concerts.  All of this led to a discussion of the different forms of theatre buildings produced by the Romans.  Fundamentally the difference between a Roman amphitheater and a Roman theatre is the shape, theatres have a semi-circular arrangement of raised seating looking into a stage, whereas an amphitheater is a 'theatre in the round' much like a football stadium.

More architectural minutiae, Greek buildings are never more than a single story as they never mastered the intricacy of the arch. Our tour guide was a serious fan of a particular Veronese family and provided tons of details about their good works and family history which I shall refrain from imparting to you in the guise of a travel blog.

On to Venice via Bolsano where we stopped for a museum devoted to Otzi, the Ice Man. His body was found by hikers in

1991 and they thought he might be a hiker who had gone missing much earlier in the century. Instead what they found was a “wet” mummy with skin and bones intact that was more than 3500 years old. Not a great museum, how much do you really want to know about a 3500 year old mummy but somewhat intriguing all the same.  There was a lot about the fight between Italy and Switzerland as to ownership of his body, Italy won.  The ground floor was pretty indifferent and seeing his mummified body was unnecessary but what they were able to determine was fascinating. I tend to think of the Pharaohs and the pyramids as being really early history but Otzi lived before that, somewhere between the time of the Lascaux cave paintings and the Pharaohs. The upper floors had lots of information about how his clothing was constructed and of what materials, his weapons and tools, his last meal and how he died, all in good English.  Modern technology has provided us with so much information, I can’t begin to fathom what they might learn from relics like this is another 50 years.

New experience for the day . . . Ugo.

Not to be outdone by other regions of Italy that champion the cause of the “Aperol Spritz”, Campari Spritz or the Negroni.  Bolsano is the place for Ugo, a drink of Elderflower syrup, Prossecco, “spritz” (aka soda water) and mint. It must be 5 o’clock somewhere even if it isn’t quite noon in Bolsano.

We explore the farmers market. It is September and there is an abundance of peppers and tomatoes, plums and figs and plenty of other food stuffs. I spot Italian plums, the oblong purple fruit with the yellow flesh that my aunt used to grow. I’m thinking snack but the proprietor is thinking too much trouble. When I ask for four plums the look I get speaks volumes, no need for rudimentary Italian to get the message.

 Next stop Venice. The one thing I can say about Rick Steves tours, it is all about location. We get off the bus in Maestre, for Venice is truly a city without vehicular traffic. We board a vaporetto, or water taxi, though it would be more accurate to describe it as a water bus, and proceed down the Grand Canal to our final destination.

Our hotel, a reasonably short walk over cobbles, up and down stairs and across several bridges, is around the corner from the Opera House and perhaps three blocks from St. Marks Square. Couldn’t hardly be more convenient to all the sights. With Rick Steves, you may trade a bit of comfort or luxury for a central location. Having said that, you do have to be prepared to lug your bags across those selfsame cobbles, up and down the stairs, over the bridges and having arrived at the hotel, you then have to carry the same luggage and your tired self up and down multiple flights of stairs. Glad to have Mick along. He would take off to our room with one bag, while I followed behind, much more slowly. The, magically, he would appear to take over long before I made it to our room.

DELIVERY BOATS BEING LOADED

Venice is magical and exhausting. They say there are more than 400 bridges over the various canals. EVERYTHING comes in on small boats. Early morning the canals are alive with delivery boats. All of the things we expect to be available in stores, toilet paper, wine, groceries, pencils, washing machines, building supplies, milk, paving stones, it all comes in loaded on boats about the size of your typical speed boat. That however only gets it as far as the edge of a canal. From there it is transported to its final destination via hand carts. 

Someone yelling ATTENZIONE, means you are likely to see someone pushing a cart carrying new windows or a grocers supply of wine. Not only does everything come in this way, including the mail, it goes out in the same fashion. Consider what garbage removal must entail!!

Venice means gondola rides, which we actually did and trips to Murano glass factories, which we didn’t do. Gondolas seem so touristy that I admit to being just enough of a snob

to want to bypass. Glad we didn’t pass it up, what a delight. The gentle motion of the boat, soft shadows, the quiet sound of the poles in the water and quick glimpses in through windows of the residents and their spaces, lovely. Also a place of “small world” moments. Exiting the gondola and headed for St. Marks Square, I hear my name being called out. I turn to discover Pam Thomas an acquaintance from Ashland walking down the narrow lane. Ain’t life amazing.

One more moment of food and surprises to share before moving on. Food is always important and I had plans of eating clams in Venice but with so many other choices, expectations are not always met. We tried to get in to a Trattoria that offered seafood only to find they were full. We are immediately directed across the street and ushered in to a small bar with perhaps four tables. I’m a little uncertain of what is happening but decide to go with the flow. That is what adventures are made of. In pidgeon English we are told the food comes from the same kitchen and it is his wife that does the cooking. We barely order before we are presented with bread and then a saucepan appears and we are dished up a small portion of gnocchi, prosciutto, bread, and cheese. Our dinner arrives and I realize when they said the same kitchen it was quite literally true. The filled plates are coming from across the street. serving of apple cake and a bag of pasta!

Don’t get too concerned, by “across the street” I really mean across an alley probably no more than five feet wide which functions quite successfully as a pedestrian street in Venice (remember, no cars). As if the unordered starters are not enough we enjoy grappa with raisins floating in it, limoncella, a sweet red wine and cookies as a complimentary dessert. When asking for the bill my wine glass goes crashing to floor, so along with the bill there is an additional 

 

ERRATA

•  Inside the city walls of Verona there are no “churches”, just chapels. 
• Acqua alta occurs when certain events coincide, such as: A very high tide (usually during a full or new moon). Low atmospheric pressure. A scirocco wind blowing up the narrow, shallow Adriatic Sea, which forces water into the Venetian Lagoon.
• When St Marks Square floods they simply put up wooden walkways that allow you to traverse the space without getting your feet wet
• The Bridge of Sighs is nothing special.  It was named by Lord Byron and the stories about prisoners are poetic license. 
• Shakespeare never visited Verona and his characters in Romeo and Juliet never existed but tourists still flock to see Juliet's Balcony.