Rome

On Saturday morning we came by train to Rome. Our hotel, the Domus Mea, lies about four blocks from the train station so it was easy to find and get settled into. We had expected warmer weather here than in Florence but it was, in fact, cooler and really pleasant. The hotel is on the fifth floor of a six or seven story building. It is entered through a miniscule elevator from the 19th century, the kind of elevator that Theoren was suspicious of during our travels together. Our room has its own sink, a wardrobe, a small table and chair, one double and one single bed, and best of all: a small balcony overlooking the back courtyard of the complex. It looks as though most of the other units facing this way are individual apartments. The view is reminiscent of a movie shot in Europe in the 50s or 60s, perhaps earlier. One could even imagine a picture made here during the Fascisti days of the early 20th century. Again we share facilities, this time more cramped and not as appealing as others we have enjoyed. Once settled we returned to the train station which also functions as a subway station and a mall with grocery stores, pharmacies, restaurants, a book store, newspaper kiosks, etc, to purchase a three-day tourist pass for the bus and subway. Because we were uncertain whether or not the Vatican would be open on Sunday or Monday we elected to go there directly, though it was by then mid-afternoon. Emily was keen to see Michelangelo’s painting on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, especially the famous fragment depicting God the Father reaching out his finger to touch that of the newly created Adam. When we arrived the line-ups for tickets and for admission were mercifully short. Once inside, however, we realized that we had merely avoided the crowds on the outside. The entire building bulged with tourists. I have been twice before, both times in the early morning so have never had to maneuver my way through as I had to on Saturday. One result was, however, that parts of the crowd (all basically heading as were we, toward the Sistine) were siphoned off into different sections of the building, bringing them in a more graduated manner into the desired chapel. 

Thus we found ourselves touring the Borgia apartments on our way. This was of interest to me as I had followed a series of programs about the Borgia family last season. Once into the Sistine we were confronted with a mass of people packed into every corner and filling up all of the imaginable space available. Several uniformed men shouted over and over again for the crowds to be silent. They walked about motioning individuals who had seated themselves on steps or on the floor at one side to get up. Their gestures and facial expressions seemed to proclaim a message like: Did your mother teach you nothing? Emily and I found space on one of the benches which line the room and rested there for some time looking at the paintings on the walls as well as those of Michelangelo on the ceiling and especially on the wall at one end where he depicted the Four Last Things (death, judgment, heaven, and hell). I once again gave Emily a little lesson in Catholic dogma. Pictures were not to be taken in the chapel but Emma did manage to take a few. She found the chapel quite different than she had imagined, as she had believed that the ceiling would be one long continuous painting rather than the individual scenarios which are presented of the stories of Genesis. 

 Our route from the chapel fortuitously led onto the terrace at the front of St Peter’s and we were able to enter and walk about this massive church without joining the very long line outside. We viewed Michelangelo’s Pieta in the entrance, an astonishingly life-like sculpture in marble. From there we joined the crowds moving clock-wise around the building, looking into side-chapels, marveling at the beautiful stained glass, the 400’ dome, the immense choir, and etc. It is an impressive place, not as comfortable or restful as others of the churches we have visited, but definitely awe-inspiring and powerful. 

Leaving the sacred for the profane we made our way across the Tiber for the Piazza Navonna, my favorite plaza in Rome. It is a very large oval with enormous, elaborate fountains, surrounded by restaurants and always filled with artists and people generally enjoying themselves. In Roman times it served as a “circus,” a place of entertainment which could be flooded by diverting the Tiber for mock naval battles to be enacted on it. Now it is ringed by beautiful palazzo and churches. We took a piazza-side table at one the restaurants for afternoon tea: cake and tea for me; croissant and ice cream for Emma. 

Close to our table a very talented funny-man was entertaining a crowd that had gathered, using a whistle and a series of props that he pulled from a large box which stood before him. He was very kinetic in his humor and seemed to improvise as he went along. Everyone adored him, including us. After tea we walked over to the nearby Pantheon, a resting place from Roman times for “the gods,” in more recent centuries a Catholic church. It was raining lightly but we walked further afield, to see the Spanish steps. Giving in to the elements, we headed back to our hotel, picking up some groceries and some things for our supper. Reading, eating, Skyping, and bed. Yesterday, Sunday, was a gorgeously bright and sunny day, exactly the kind of day that tourists adore. And so all and sundry were out in force. Our first foray was to the Coliseum, easily reached by subway from the train station. Here we found the hordes, vast lines of seekers, like ourselves, waiting to visit the main palace of Roman bread and circuses. Rather than join their number and wait for hours in the sun, we left the area, instead strolling along the nearby avenues lining the adjacent Roman Forum, up to the Via Del Corso and the alleyways leading to the Trevi Fountain. The fountain is viewed best in the evening when the lights that play across its surface transform the area into a magical space. Even in daylight it is special, however. All tourists eventually come here to thrown a coin over their shoulders into the water to ensure that they also will return one day to Rome. Emily loved the ritual coin toss and the taking of photos to record it, sitting with the crowds, and enjoying the cool spray of the fountain. 

From there we went on for our second visit to the Spanish steps, this time able to pause and appreciate it. After a leisurely afternoon break from the sun at our hotel, we went by subway to the Piazza Del Populo, the plaza of the people, an enormous area close to the Borgia gardens where concerts and rallies are held. Though it rained this morning we made our way once again to the Coliseum, this time successfully achieving our purpose. It is an astounding building, built close to 2000 years ago for the entertainment of the populace. It was entirely clad in white marble and was large enough to hold over 50,000 people at a time. Its current deterioration was not caused by faulty design or construction. Rather in earlier centuries when antiquities were not prized and preserved as they are today, the relics of the Roman era were pillaged for building materials. Despite its current condition it is an impressive place to walk about. It was raining as we did so but we had our umbrellas and dealt with it. Emily loved it all. 

The rain stopped by mid-afternoon so we ventured our again later for our last evening in Rome, walking down to the Tiber and the tomb of Caesar Augustus and then up to the Piazza Del Populo, stopping for a final magnificent gelato along our way. In the morning we will rise early and take a bus from the station to the airport and head back to Toronto. Each of our visited cities: London, Paris, Venice, Florence and Pisa, and finally Rome, has been terrific in its own way. Being in these places with Emily and sharing their wonders with her has been a delight.

Florence and Pisa

The train voyage from Venice to Florence passed without incident. It was about a two-hour trip in a well-appointed second-class car. We bought tickets for the late morning and so brought lunch materials with us to share on the journey. Arriving at the station in central Florence, we walked the six or seven blocks to our hotel, the Centro, close by the Duomo, the mammoth cathedral in the centre of the city. We were happy to note that a grocery store was next to our hotel, a place of provision for our on-going needs: water, milk, yogurt, apples, biscuits and cheese. Our room here is the most pleasant to date. A large window opens onto a side street, giving us lots of both light and air. We have our own washroom, a ceiling fan, and workable internet connections. We spent the afternoon and evening walking about this beautiful inner city, ending at the restaurant in Piazza Santa Croce where Theoren and I had had such fabulous lasagna a couple of years ago. Emily and I had dinner there, enjoying the views and, of course, the great pasta. Afterward we sat on a ledge in the Piazza Della Signoria, the central square of Florence, listening to the music of a classically-trained guitar player. Many stood or sat about listening, applauding, and before leaving, buying his CDs. We did the same. The Piazza Della Signoria stands in front of the imposing ancient fortress which once housed the republican-style government of the city state as it developed in the early middle-ages. Later the Medici family took over the republic and impressed their own brand of rule on the people. Adjacent is a large, raised and covered dias, a “loggia” containing an array of enormous statuary from the early Roman and Greek eras to that of the Renaissance. In the Piazza Della Signoria itself is a copy of Michelangelo’s David; the original had been removed to a local museum to protect it from the elements – human and otherwise, no doubt. Perpendicular to the Piazza is the famed Uffizzi Museum, once a Medici palace. The next morning, Thursday, Emily and I slept in late, missing breakfast at our hotel. Once organized, we headed back to the Piazza and the Uffuzzi. Emily’s mom, Catherine, has a print of Botticelli’s painting Primavera hanging in her bedroom and Emily was keen to see the original. The wait time for entrance was about 1 ½ hours but the line-up remained within the colonnaded front of the building, keeping us sheltered from the bright sun. We spent about 1-2 hours walking about the museum, looking at its collection of pre-Renaissance and Renaissance painters. I gave Emily benefit of my rather limited knowledge of art history and also of the biblical and Christian themes in the paintings. She was interested in all that we saw. Afterward we returned to Santa Croce, this time to tour its interior. It has been a favorite of mine since I first saw A Room With a View. We moved about making special note of the luminaries buried there – Michelangelo himself among others. After lunch and a rest we went to the train station to buy tickets for a visit to Pisa the next day. As we left the station, I saw a bus heading for Piazzale Michelangelo, a plaza on a high point on the opposite side of the Arno River that affords a fabulous over-view of Florence with its red roofs and domes. We hopped on the bus and drove through parts of Florence which we hadn’t seen, winding gradually up into the hills past lushly green farm plots and gardens. At the Piazzale we found a spot overlooking the town to have a simple supper. Later we walked back down to the town from there, passing over the Ponte Vecchio, the old bridge which has still a super-structure of housing dating back to the middle-ages. These buildings now are all used by gold and silver shops. That evening the bridge was filled with young people listening to musicians camped along its sides. On Friday we were up early to ensure getting our breakfast before heading for Pisa. The trip takes only an hour though there are several other stops along the route. Tickets are sold for use over a two month period, any time a train is going; validation requires stamping the ticket in a machine in the station before boarding. Like most others we purchased ours in a machine in the station. There was no indication on the ticket or on the machine that this validation was required. Needless to say, our tickets did not have it. Half-way to Pisa I heard the conductor scolding a group of English-speaking young people for not having their tickets stamped. They argued with him about not knowing of this requirement but he was adamant that they would have to pay a fine of 40 Euros. Take your penance, he said! I had no wish to be placed in this position so I roused Emily, who was asleep in her seat, and we bustled out of the compartment in the opposite direction. We kept going along through several cars until we passed another conductor, a pleasant-looking fellow who simply wished us Good Day, found a couple of empty seats, and before long, were safely released to the wonders of Pisa. I definitely made certain to stamp our ticket on the return trip! The church complex visited by all tourists to this region is off to one side of the actual city of Pisa but is on a now underground tributary of the Arno River, the location of the early settlement of this town. It consists of three large buildings clad in white marble: the cathedral, baptistery, and the bell tower – the famed leaning tower of Pisa. The shift in the tower’s angle began not too long after it was built due to the texture of the area’s sub-soil. The angle continued to increase over the centuries but about 20 years ago – a few years after Elizabeth and I climbed it in our 1988 visit, the tower was closed and work was done to ensure its safety. Emily and I arrived shortly after 11AM and moved straight through the area to buy our tickets to climb the tower. Entrances are timed, ensuring that only a relatively small group enters the tower at a time. There are approximately 300 steps to the top and these wind up the interior of the tower, decreasing in width as one progresses. Passing a person who is descending becomes more and more problematical the nearer one comes to the top. The very last tier is so narrow that passing is not possible; staff positioned at the top regulates the comings and goings at that level. Along the way up there are a few crevices to the side with mesh barricades, preventing one from falling to the earth but allowing a view of the surroundings below, within which one can stop and catch one’s breath. Our ticket was for 12:20 so we hadn’t long to wait. We ambled about the adjacent shops stopping for our traditional morning gelato, took a few pictures, boarded my backpack as required and headed with our cohorts for the top. We took a couple of breathers but before long were up among the clouds. It is a spectacular view, not only of the city itself but of the hills and mountains in the distance and of the green and lush nearby countryside. Emily took a series of pictures and arranged herself in various serious and silly poses for me. Before long we were ordered to be off as the next group was to be given their chance. Not exactly what the church fathers those many centuries ago had in mind for their bell tower, but still, the whole experience is thrilling and awe-inspiring as it brings one closer to the heavens and to a connection with the efforts of humans to express their longings for the ineffable. After a brief visit to the cathedral we returned by local bus to the train station and to Florence. A rest and refreshments in our hotel room was followed by an evening walk out once again through the town and to the Piazza Della Signoria to sit with the other patrons, taking in the evening air and the strains of the classical guitar. The next morning, Saturday, we would be off to Rome, the final destination in our tour, so we prepared our belongings, made our usual calls to TO via Skype, and headed for bed.

On to Venice

We came by train to Venice on Saturday night, sharing our two bunk-bed compartment with a couple, two forty-ish French fellows. One had little English but the other was relatively conversant. They were very pleasant and polite but we were all rather awkward with one another. It’s a fairly small space in which to share the various intimacies of spending a night together, but we all managed in quite a civilized manner. The car next to ours had a small dining room and a take-out spot. We purchased things for our supper and again for breakfast, eating standing up at the bar provided. Washrooms with toilettes were available at the ends of each car as well as two other small rooms with just sinks and mirrors. The upper berths were more commodious than the lowers, which were really just the seats used during the day: little room, little comfort; not too much sleep. In the morning we packed up and said goodbye to our night’s companions who had come to Venice for a week’s holiday, climbed down from the train and headed across the Grand Canal to find our hotel, the Airone, opposite the train station. On the front door was a sign instructing us to apply to the Canal Hotel a few doors down the quay. There we were registered and told to return after 1PM to be assigned our room. As we had several hours to wait we hopped on the local bus – a vaparetto, a long and narrow ferry boat – and cruised the length of the canal to St Mark’s. It was a Sunday and the areas around the cathedral and in the square were packed. We made our way toward the far end of the square from where a good view of the façade of the church is possible, making ourselves comfortable on the steps leading to the shops in the colonnade behind. In short order we were told by a uniformed warden that sitting on the steps was forbidden by a city by-law. We moved on, taking our gelato and making for other areas inland from the square, eventually walking back over a succession of bridges and down various passageways until we reached the Canal Hotel. There we were given front door and bedroom keys and sent back to the Airone. Both little hotels are run out of the Canal so no staff is seen here other than the odd sighting of a cleaning lady. Our room is about 8-9 feet wide and maybe 25 feet long. It ends at a tall window overlooking the Grand Canal. We have a sink but share toilet and showering facilities with our co-residents, people whom we also rarely catch sight of. It’s quite pleasant here; the sights and sounds of the canal are intriguing, though across from us is an administrative building, not one of the glorious old palaces further down. Later we walked back across the canal and through a succession of back streets and bridges to San Marco square, by now considerably depleted of the hordes. Three restaurants around the square employ classical musicians to play familiar pieces, enticing tourists to sit outside at their tables and enjoy their hospitality. Few comply as the fare is understandably expensive, but many stand about enjoying the music and unashamedly applauding the musicians. Theoren and I had had several pleasant moments in just such a manner, sitting on the steps just off to one side. Emily and I did the same. That evening there was only one group playing and there were no patrons sitting with them: further signs of the struggling economy? During the night I had a strange health occurrence – not to be gone into here and not by any means life-threatening, but concerning enough that at 4AM I had to rouse Emily and head off to the hospital emergency. It was raining slightly but we made our way to Piazzale Roma and were told by a helpful taxi driver that there was a hospital in the lagoon (ie, we wouldn’t have to leave the islands for help); we stirred a boat-taxi driver from his sleep and he drove us there – 50 Euros! The staff was helpful; we were there for about 6 hours; a nurse found an extra chair and a pillow and blanket for Emily so that she could doze while waiting for me. After a series of tests, including an ultra-sound, I was given a prescription for anti-biotics and sent on my way with a bill for 111.65 Euros – which I didn’t consider unreasonable given the care and diagnostic expertise shown.

It rained a lot that day, our second in Venice and we were both very tired after our strange night so we mostly stayed in our cozy spot and snoozed and read. The third day the weather was lovely and we walked about a great deal, visiting the San Marco cathedral and shopping for Emily’s presents for family and friends in the Rialto area. We bought sandwiches and pizza and picnicked out, adding gelato to the menu every now and then. Later we stopped into the train station to purchase our tickets to Florence for the next day, Thursday. The tickets are bought simply in a machine something like those in which we buy movie tickets. In the evening we organized our belongings and generally got ready for the trip the next day.

London to Paris

The next morning after breakfast we pulled ourselves together and headed down the street to King’s Cross/St Pancreas International to board the Chunnel to France. The train was fully packed but all went according to the usual organized chaos of train travel. We brought sandwiches with us but spent most of the travel time snoozing. The landscapes as we rode through northern France from Calais were lovely. Our terminus in Paris was the Gare de Nord, as in London, just a few blocks away from our hotel in Montmartre. After settling in we took a couple of subway rides to reach the area of the Eiffel Tower. It was mid-afternoon by then and the line for tickets was very long. One of the elevators was down so progress toward the tower was considerably slower than usual. We decided to return early the next morning and instead to make for Notre Dame and the left bank. Unfortunately, though we took the right bus, we took it in the wrong direction, ending at a suburban stop called La Defense. After another very long ride we did make it to Notre Dame. Tents erected in the square proclaimed a festival of bread, certainly one of France’s finest productions. There were hundreds of people milling about the exhibits and standing in line to enter the cathedral. We took in the general scene but decided to cross the river and browse about in the laneways of the left bank by Boulevard St Michel. With gelato in hand we walked along the boulevard to the gorgeous Jardin de Luxembourg. Emily loved the garden, especially the large inner pond with statues and with small sail-boats milling about. After some supper we returned to the hotel for an early evening and an attempt to contact people in Toronto via Skype. The next morning, Friday, after a rather slower beginning than we had planned, we made our way to the Eiffel for our second attempt. This time the line was considerably longer than it had been the afternoon before. We noted, however, that the closing of the tower was just after midnight and determined that we would come after our supper for, hopefully, easier access. We took a bus from the area to the Place de la Concorde where the hundreds of guillotined victims of the French Revolution met their ends. From there we walked through the gardens of the Tuileries to the Louvre. Emily was full of beans by this point in the day, skipping along, taking pictures and getting me to take ones of her “leaning against” or “holding up” various statues and arches, perspectives achieved usually by my getting down on my knees on the cobblestones. Her other favorite pursuit was taking very close-up pictures of me in various candid poses, all of which were inordinately unflattering. She found my chagrin very funny. We entered a line of about a half a kilometer for entrance to the Louvre. It moved along steadily and we were inside within an hour, by then hungry and thirsty. We sat by one of the indoor cafes and had a rather expensive but good lunch of sandwiches. Emily was excited about seeing the Mona Lisa and we followed, with hundreds of others, the sign leading to her salon. The route took us through large parts of the building, giving us a chance to view statuary and paintings from several centuries of French and Italian artists. Emily photographed many of these. It was her first visit to an art gallery and she clearly found it interesting. In the room containing the Mona Lisa and a number of other paintings, the crush was intense but Emily, after a couple of abortive attempts, pushed her way close enough to the front to get a series of quite good photos of the legendary lady. She was thrilled to have done so and mentioned it to her parents and Theoren when we spoke with them later that night. Everything else was anti-climax as we made of our way out of the museum to the large courtyard surrounding the crystal pyramid. Walking north a few blocks we boarded a subway train heading for Montmartre to visit Sacra Coeur church, a site where Emily’s mom, Catherine had met a few young Europeans during her visit to Paris several years ago. She spent the next couple of days with them, travelling about the city and enjoying its sites and their company in equal measure. Emily was keen to take photos of the spot to show her mom. She loved it up there. The hills and the stairs were rather daunting but we made it without incident, returning afterward to our hotel just five or six blocks away for a nap and a simple meal. About 9PM we headed out for our third and this time successful assault on the Eiffel. The crowd was diminished but by no means short. It took over an hour and a half to reach the ticket booth. We were among the last group to enter the elevator ascending to the second stage. The view was beautiful with all of the lights of Paris displayed below. That day Emily had teased me about a (mythical) group that she belongs to and, in fact, is the president thereof. There are secret handshakes, words, and sound effects that only the insiders are allowed to know and to partake in. I countered with my own secret club that she could not be party to without the permission that I would forever withhold. It was all very hilarious and fun and she showed a lot of her little monkey and creative sides to me that I think usually show mainly with Theoren and some of her buddies. That evening on our way to the Eiffel she developed a personality for the name I had given her of Emily Dickinson, girl poet. On her cell phone she taped a couple of rap poems made up on the spot about herself as that new person. I was called upon to introduce her on the recording to our imagined audience. It was hilarious. As we approached the base of the Eiffel screaming with laughter, a couple of gendarmes standing nearby suddenly became alert, as though they might have to rescue the young girl with the strange lady. Because we were abroad so late on Friday night we slept in and lollygagged about our room until the last moment allowed before check-out. Around noon we set out with luggage in tow for the Gare de Lyon where we were to catch our over-night sleeper about 6PM. Storing the luggage in a locker at the station, we returned to Notre Dame, this time for a walk-about. We sat quietly in one of the pews for a time, taking in the dark interior of the church and its glorious stained glass windows. Emily was not greatly interested in the church itself though did respond to and photograph the windows. We had little time left after this visit so we stocked up on food and water and returned to the Gare de Lyon and the great overnight train adventure.

More of London

Sunday, May 20/12 We arrived in Venice this morning by sleeper train from Paris. I’ll back-track to Wednesday, however, as I have not been able to keep up with the blog/journal each day due to the press of events and to the scarcity of good internet connections. The weather last Wednesday was considerably happier than had been that of the previous day. It was sunny and mild, raining for only a brief period in the late afternoon. We took advantage of the day to get about in London, beginning after breakfast with a trip to the Eye on the embankment across from Westminster pier. This gigantic Ferris-wheel with its individually enclosed capsules towers over the London skyline. The prime tourist season has not yet arrived – as it must in the next few weeks with the Queen’s diamond jubilee and then the Olympics – so we were able to buy our tickets and go aboard with only about ½ hour’s wait. About 20 people filled our capsule but there was room for all to maneuver about the cabin, moving from side to side to enjoy the views and take photos as we ascended and then gradually descended in our great arc about the central wheel. The Eye rarely ceases motion; rather, one boards and disembarks as one’s capsule slowly moves across the boarding lane. The view is marvelous; all of London’s attractions can be seen from on-high. The sensation is most magical. Afterwards we visited the close-by MacDonald’s for quite tasty chicken sandwiches and the kiosk next to it for London’s version of gelato. Back over Westminster bridge we purchased tickets for a boat trip on the Thames from Westminster to the Tower of London. The boat was fairly crowded and we were not seated close to the edge so Emily moved about as she spied various buildings that caught her attention, taking photos with her omnipresent cell phone. Entering the Tower, we joined a group being toured and lectured by a “Beefeater,” a burly chap with a macabre sense of humor, who told a succession of jokes against the Americans in the crowd and a series of stories about the executions which took place over the centuries at that locale. It was pretty entertaining though Emily was not cheered by his tales of gore. After his tour we were able to visit the area where the crown jewels are kept, seeing particularly all of those that the kings, queens and princes have worn on state occasions over the centuries. In the White Tower, the original keep built about 1087, soon after the Norman invasion and conquest, was a multi-storied display of weapons, including mailed riders on horseback readied for battle. Emily took many photos, certain that her dad and Theoren would share her interest in the swords and musketry. From the Tower we walked north up Tower Hill to Seething Lane, the street where Pepys and his wife Elizabeth lived for about 14 years while he held the position of the Clerk of the Acts of the Royal Navy. Close by their residence (destroyed by fire about 10 years after the Great Fire of London in 1666) is St Olave’s church where they attended services and where both have been buried. The church and its courtyard were open so Emily and I paid a visit, stopping to view the sculpted bust of Elizabeth which Pepys had commissioned after her early death at age 29.

After this following of the footsteps of Pepys, we purchased supper things and headed back to our digs for an early evening.

London

Emily and I are in Paris though we leave later today for Venice. I haven't been able to post anything since we left Toronto as we have been so busy and because the internet at our hotels has been extremely unpredictable and even non-existent. We had a quite easy flight to Heathrow. On arriving we connected with the London Underground and made our way to King's Cross station, just a couple of blocks from our hotel. The room was miniscule and lacked amenities -- other than a rather ancient, though still usable kettle. The washrooms and showers were shared with others in our corridor but they were clean and well kept and our fellow travellers were pleasant and like ourselves, rather mild and middle-class. It was about 10:30PM when we settled in but just 5:30PM Toronto time so needless to say we weren't ready for bed. We walked the neighbourhood for some distance, finding a Marks and Spencer mimi-grocery store a mile or so away where we purchased some basics -- milk, water, and cookies, and had a bite to eat at the adjoining Burger King. Back at the hotel we struggled mightily with internet connections so that we could Skype back home; the lad on over-night duty was kind and helpful and got us some access for awhile -- we had to take our equipment down to the dining room in order to get a stronger signal. London was intermittently rainy the whole time we were there -- especially during the times that we neglected to schlep the umbrella. Our first foray was on the underground to Trafalgar square, then on foot to the vicinity of the Parliament buildings and Westminster Abbey. Because I am such a strong over-the-centuries buddy of Samuel Pepys I was very keen to visit Westminster Hall, the only part of the Whitehall Palace that survived the fire that levelled all else. Pepys described it in it's use at his time as a communal hall, filled with shops and people doing business of various kinds or just meeting with others for a drink or something to eat. The celebration following Charles II's coronation was held there and Pepys has left a detailed description of the festivities. At the Hall we were told by a kindly guard that we could get a pass to visit the Houses of Parliament as they were then in session and that the route to the visitors' gallaries passed through Westminster Hall. Very promising. We decided to return later in the afternoon. We thought about visiting Westminister Abbey for a walk-about (and later St. Paul's) but both can now be entered only by a fairly hefty payment so we decided to fore-go the pleasure. We did go into the storied St Martin's in the Field, however, and sat for awhile in its simple interior while I explained a bit to Emily about the change over from Catholic to Anglican religions in England. Interesting, she said. Tired of walking and a bit chilled by the rain, we hopped on a passing bus which took us along the Strand and Fleet St into the City and up to St Paul's. We walked about a bit, purchased lunch materials at a local Pret a Manger -- very excellent -- and took the underground back to the hotel to eat and relax awhile. Later we set out for the Parliament buildings once again. This time we got our pass and waited in line in the drizzle (it had looked so fair when we had left -- a lesson on London, for sure: never leave your hotel without your umbrella). A kindly fellow in front shared his umbrella with Emily. He said he waas going in to meet with his MP to lobby on behalf of the British airplane companies that he represents. As promised the entrance to the building was via Westminster Hall. I was so happy to be there. I had only discovered that it still existed when Mark and I saw a program by David Starkey about Henry VIII. Starkey located himself in the hall during one episode. Seeing it still existing, I determined to see it for myself if at all possible.

Getting Started

Tomorrow, May 14/12, Emily Fish and I will be off on the 15-day tour of some European cities that we have been planning over the past year or so. In 1988 when I was finishing my graduate school work I had the time and the extra money to travel in Europe, something I had longed to do for many years. In 1986 I had gone to London by myself for a couple of weeks and though I had found it terrifically interesting, I was excruciatingly lonely. This time I was determined not to travel alone. The difficulty was that I knew no one who had both the free time and the money to make it possible. I began to consider taking Elizabeth, then 11, with me. To gauge her interest I simply told her that I wanted to travel in Europe but had no one to go with. With her eyes fairly popping she immediately jumped in with: I'LL GO!!! And so we went together: a 19-day bus tour with Trafalgar Tours -- London, Brussels, Amsterdam, the Rhine, Lucerne, Innsbruck, Venice, Rome, Florence, Nice, Lyons, Paris, and back to London. It was an amazing trip for both of us, not always easy by any means, but wonderful nonetheless. It opened up for me the broader experience of the world that I had been tasting for years through books and movies and gave me the experience and confidence to gradually move on to other locales and adventures. For Elizabeth it was also an opening. She speaks of that time as having given her a bigger feeling for the world and its possibilities, many of which she moves toward as her own life continues to develop. As my grandchildren have grown and become such interesting young beings, I promised each of them a trip somewhat like that Elizabeth and I took. In 2009 Theoren and I took a two week tour of Italy with Cosmos. It was really fun. Theoren developed more and more confidence interacting with the 50 or so other guests on the tour. Many were from Austrailia and New Zealand and they were terrific people. He especially bonded with a computer geek from Singapore -- they had a lot of jokes with one another. So now it's Emily's turn. Theoren had particularly chosen to go to Italy as he had studied the Roman Empire and wanted especially to see the Colosseum. Emily expressed a desire to go to Paris though also was drawn to Italy. I put London in there as well as I haven't been there for some time and love to walk about in the footsteps of one of my favorite people, Samuel Pepys. So our itinerary is: London for three nights; the Chunnel to Paris where we will have two and a half days, then catch the over-night sleeper train to Venice; three nights in the glories of Venice; train to Florence; a day trip to Pisa to climb the iconic tower; train to Rome for three more nights, and then home. It's a whirlwind, I know, but it will be fun and it will be a learning experience for both of us -- not just in the places we visit, but also about ourselves and each other. We will both keep journals and we'll take advantage of each locale to talk about the history and importance of each. We would love to hear from any of you who are following our trip -- just a hello, or, even better, some news of yourself. Love to all.