2016 Europe * San Gimignano #2 * Sept 21-22

“For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. 

I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move.” 

~ Robert Louis Stevenson

Sept 21.  San Gimignano
 

Awake at 4am I take advantage of the midnight to 8am unlimited WiFi.  I am searching for trains and AirBnBs further north.  My final decision:  I am tired of considering options and details.  And making adjustments. And not knowing the language.  So I decide:  I hope to be in Lyon by midnight tomorrow.  Lorenzo will take me to San Gimignano to catch the 6am bus to Poggibonsi.  Then bus to Firenze, train to Milano, Nice, and Lyon.  At least that is what the Trenitalia site says is possible.  I’ve been in touch with Agnès in Lyon so she is aware of my upcoming arrival. 

Things always work out for me - so by midday, I decide to stop worrying.

Relaxing in the free swinging lounge chair on the patio, I glance up and realize that the top of three of the towers of old San Gimignano can be seen from exactly this spot.  I walked to and from there today.  Newly discovered corners of the city.  A spritz to drink in the central plaza with two friendly Canadian women.   Later a rich mushroom risotto and red wine.

Cool and cloudy on the way to town, gorgeous while there, and followed back to the AirBnB by various thunderstorms, majestic clouds, and striking sunlight.  I took a bunch of photos hoping to catch the drama.  Occasionally the air goes very still, like a warning that the distant storm is almost upon us, but one has yet to arrive.

In the vineyard on the hillside beside the property, some small tractor wagons and various harvesters are harvesting bunches of grapes.  They taunt the clouds.

Breathe deeply as much of the Tuscan air as possible!  Sense deeply the expanse of the hills and valleys!  Feel profoundly the quiet joy of being present.

Tomorrow it will be but a memory.

Three years ago I considered San Gimignano one of the most magical places I have ever been on earth – and that it is – but now it is a more bona fide entity to me.  I can see the tip of the tower just over the next hill.  A place for me, not for just a couple hours as the first time years ago, but now mine for a few days.  The town is a daily reality and neighbor to those who live in the vicinity. 

I lay back to relax and glance outward again .. and again, there it is!  Solid rock tower.  I touched it today.  I walked through its streets.  I felt the warmth of the Tuscan sunlight reflecting off its ancient walls.  I drank the rich red Chianti made from the grapes that grow on these hills.  And now, quietly, like a muffling blanket, the clouds cover us as one.

Sept 22.  San Gimignano, Italy to Lyon, France

Again I am awake at 4:30am in San Gimignano. 

I sent my mother a birthday message last night.  She, and my Dad, are both 90.  Long full lives. No regrets, I hope.  They started in me the desire to travel – when I was young.  They sent me to Ecuador when I was seventeen – with no Spanish skills.  They themselves traveled during vacations when possible and returned telling us of interesting places and wonderful experiences.

I’m on my way by bus from San Gimignano to Firenze.  There I buy train tickets for a day-long trip to Lyon. I do hope it's simple with few stops or changes.  I’m traveling with larger luggage than normal because of the cruise earlier and moving it on and off trains and dragging it through stations is not my favorite activity.  I decide, again, to lighten my travel load even more for the future.

Why in English is it Florence?  Could the English not pronounce Firenze?!  It's not difficult. Call things by their given name, people.  

 

I have good breakfast aboard first class (that surprised the porter - that my ticket was for first class). The train is full due to the fashion week in Milano so my only option was first class which cost quite a bit more. Still. Full service breakfast in my oversized leather seat.  Only one or two other people in the car. It's very nice occasionally to be in first class.  (If it were later in the day I would take advantage of the champagne.) 

I'm a shameless gawker at countryside. The trainload has lightened as people disembark and I've found double seats across the aisle open. I can shift looking from oceanside to mountainside in this beautiful country.

A couple train changes and I will be in Lyon before midnight. 

Facebook Photo Album (repeat link):  San Gimignano, Italy, photo album

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2016 Europe * San Gimignano #1 * Sept 19-20

"The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes."

~Marcel Proust

The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes. Marcel Proust
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/discovery.html

Morning sun rays over the Tuscan countryside

Sept 19: Lorenzo's AirBnB

My heart sings!  Joy and beauty!  A hilltop home with fruit trees and bats dancing in the evening stillness.  In any direction is an exquisite view.  More than my simple heart can contain.  About three kilometers from the medieval town San Gimignano … I will walk there tomorrow.

Garden of the AirBnB

Angela, Leonardo’s sister, picked me up from the train station as he was occupied in Florence.  Grace and friendliness beyond compare, she is a wonderful person.  I know, given time and a bit more of each other’s language, we could be good friends.  As I write this, the vesper bells are ringing just over the rise from San Gimignano).  Their mother sweetly brings me a welcoming espresso and fresh fig pastry that she has made from the fig tree in the garden.  Angela takes me to the supermarket a couple miles away to let me pick up some groceries: local Chianti, fresh Asiago cheese (not dried), tomatoes, green beans, and drinking water.  I am good now .. for a bit. 

There is a rainbow over the distant hill at sunset.  A promise.

 

San Gimignano at sunrise

 

Sept 20: San Gimignano

Medieval street in town

Before 7:30 am I walk the three and a half kilometers of the old dirt road and into town.  Quiet, beautiful, the sun giving the very first morning kisses to the ancient stone structures that rest at the top of the hill.  Pigeons are chirping their songs to each other and to the warming rays.  Their clean songs are so different from the muffled cooing of our urban doves.  I wander the streets and alleyways of the patch-worked stone buildings, some original, some renovated.   San Gimignano is a small town, but a powerful magnet to travelers, and I find myself so quickly through the central street to the other side.  These are streets for pedestrians, not cars, although a few enter to deliver goods to restaurants or tourists to hotels.

 

Main gateway

A touch of history:  In the 3^rd century BC a small Etruscan village Silva was on this hill.  The name was changed to San Gimignano in 450 AD after Bishop Geminianus intervened to spare the castle town from destruction by followers of Attila the Hun.  In the Middle Ages and Renaissance era it was a resting point for pilgrims on their way to Rome and the Vatican.  By 1200 the peace of the town was disturbed for the next two centuries by the conflict between two family rivalries.  Each family would build tower house of increasing height to display their importance and wealth.  At the end of the Medieval period there were 72 towers up to 230 feet tall.  Finally a town council dictated that no tower was to be taller than the one at the Central Plaza.  In 1348 the Black Death destroyed much of the populace and so San Gimignano remained in the medieval state until the 19^th century when tourism took note of its Romanesque and Gothic architecture.  Today remain fourteen towers of varying heights.

Medieval stone, brick, limestone, textures and warm light

I cannot help myself – I take so many photographs – the same kind I have taken hundreds of times throughout Europe.  Texture, warm lighting, and soft color call to me.  My imagination wanders:  who has walked these streets before?  What were their lives?  How did they think?

Tuscan countryside from a Tower

Up to the highest corner tower of the fortress wall.  There is an incredible view of the Tuscan countryside in every direction.  The sun-washed hills, that earlier were gently caressed with morning mist, now request attention:  “Observe us! .. we are beautiful”.

Tiramisu and espresso

I am heading back to my AirBnB .. there are so many tourists now in the brightness of midday.  Perhaps I will return and explore the ancient town more this evening when it is quieter.  I stop at Marcella’s on the way out of town – a small café with sandwiches, pastries, and homemade flavored chocolate.  Tiramisu and espresso!  The same as I had three years ago - only this time there are no students to share, so I enjoy it alone.  A bit later, I pass the stairs where we took our group photo then.  Empty now. 

There is definitely a good amount of alcohol in this tiramisu!  None other like it that I have ever found.  A secret, very old recipe, perhaps handed down from generation to generation and now to Marcella (who is quite old herself).

Trouble sleeping last night .. I kept waking and thinking “perhaps it is dawn NOW!”

San Gimignano

 

 

Facebook Photo Album:  San Gimignano, Italy, photo album

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2016 Europe * TrenItalia: en route * September 19

"If nothing ever changed, there would be no butterflies."

~Author Unknown

I have been fed up with sleepwalking through my life.  What woke me up two years ago?  Another birthday?  Realizing I was living my whole days and years for others?  Who knows how long our days remain healthy and active?  So while I have those things still, I take off.   Off to find MYSELF!  I am still searching, of course, finding bits and pieces of me along the way.

It’s challenging and a bit disconcerting to travel alone in a country where one does not speak the language.  I’ve made a list of Italian words but I have not used many.   Yesterday the man at the train station sold me a Rome-to-San Gimignano ticket (actually to the nearest town: Poggibonsi), but he did not even consider that I would need to go from Civitavecchia to Rome!!  It must have been quite obvious that I was a foreigner and rather lost, but he was absolutely literal with the list of places I was to go.  Thankfully I went to the station a half hour early.  Now I’m on the train and wondering about making the 9am Rome train he assigned me …

A chance to ponder:

I often find myself saying “I travel to paint” or “I travel and paint”, but what I am really doing is moving to EXPERIENCE.  To discover for me, to learn and find more of myself in each place and in each moment.  Finding my now identity, the feeling of me.  The personal joys, the true friendships, the deepest loves.

There are those things that still hook into me and disturb me.  Things like “what my family expects of me” or “my debit cards are not functioning to get cash right how” (while in Spain or Italy!) or “money is limited and I should be producing more”.  But the deep, deep inner me is NOT concerned.  I survive.  I will survive.  Things will work out for me. They have.  They do.  Why do I doubt?

When I do arrive in Rome, I have, of course, missed the 9am train.  Finally, I get help to catch the next train .. well, the two hours later train.  I send a message to my AirBnB host in San Gimignano and he replies.  His sister will meet me at the train station in Poggibonsi and give me a ride to the house.  All is well.   

Meanwhile, I have decided to not explore more of Italy as initially planned, but get to France as soon as I can.  Lyon – where there are friends to talk to, a place and language in which I can abide.

~

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2016 Europe * Civitavecchia * September 18

"Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet 

and the winds long to play with your hair."      ~Khalil Gibran

A single seagull slides on the wind with the brilliant white and gray clouds watching from behind.  The warm sun thrusts its long fingers through those clouds to poke playfully at the bird and the waves far below.  This joyous sea pounces again and again on the polished stones, those rocks that roll and roll with the waves until their sharp parts are worn to smooth suede.  A lone woman walks along the shore, hair and skirt flapping in the breeze.  She rejoices in the sun, the mist and the rounded stones beneath her feet.  She pauses, glances down, admires the rugged quilt of color and texture below.  Occasionally she stoops to pick up one special stone that has caught her eye, compliments its beauty, then either drops it in her linen bag or says, “You could use more spa time to soften your edges”, and tosses it back into the roiling waves.

“If you love me, you’ll bring it home to me.”  The most beautiful rock I have seen.  I posted its photo online and received such comments, but the trick was that I had left it on the beach atop that piece of bark I used as a base.  Fractured, crazed, rejoined by some amber mineral and fused to a piece of gray-blue rock then worn down over millennia to a soft palm-sized stone.  I’d never seen its equal.  This unique rock was but a beautiful memory now.  I wondered … and took a chance with the Universe.  When I returned this morning, I found it far too easily, just under the now overturned bark. Billions of rocks on the beach and this one is unique in all the world to me.   

"Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world....”    
  ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince 

A black suitcase, black high heeled shoes, and a lump of clothes and a body.  Out of place. Curled on the white limestone stairs near the shore, sleeping.  Why, it’s the elegant lady I noticed while having lunch yesterday.  She had been basking in the sun on the shore side promenade, her shoe-clad foot pointing gracefully straight to the sky.  She seemed at peace and one with the elements surrounding her.  Now I wonder: did she have no place to spend the night inside?   

Does it matter?

 

More photos on my Facebook:   https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10157386632590104.1073741949.804650103&type=1&l=27291f70fb

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2016 Europe * Final Cruise Excursions * September 11-14

“The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page.” 

~ Saint Augustine

Entering Pisa on the Arno River

Base of the Tower

We enter Pisa as people did in the middle ages .. going up the river toward town.  Pisa was a much more important city in 9^th century Italy than Florence because of it is a Port city.  Our guide said the Crusade actually started from Pisa.  When the Medici started to take control in Italy, they switched the power seat from Pisa to Florence.  In the issuing power struggle, these two city states were at war during the Renaissance.  It is one reason why there is no Renaissance art works in Pisa .. it was too dangerous for artists to live there and try to produce something creative. 

Of course Pisa is best known for its bell tower .. you know, the one that

Pisa

leans.  The Cathedral was built in 1064 and was the largest at that time and then the Baptistry was built about 1153 within the city wall. 

The bell tower itself (the “leaning tower”) was started 1172 to 1178 and built up to three stories but then stopped until 1273 because it already had started to sink.   The architect who designed the local graveyard (not like those in the US, but with designed grounds and architectural structures) Giovanni de Salmone, was employed to complete the tower.  The foundation was reinforced and the porticoes and columns on the sinking side were built taller that the other in an attempt to visually straighten it out.  This gives the tower a slightly curved shape.  In 1935 it lost 3mm in two hours as they worked to fortify the base under orders from Mussolini.  By 1990 it had sunk a total 5m32cm.  At that time they tried using liquid nitrogen to strengthen the ground underneath but that caused the iron columns, that Mussolini had had installed, to contract. The tower shook.  It was finally discovered that the structure is built between an old riverbed and an artificial Roman canal.  Built upon the most unstable ground possible!  2000 injections of inflatable concrete are now wedged in to stabilize tower.  Surprisingly during all this it was the dry stone base that saved the tower during centuries of rainy and dry seasons, and it was the soft, sandy soil that caused the sinking that actually allowed it to withstand earthquakes. 

Palma Castle Tower

Our cruise also stops for day visits at Cartagena and Palma de Mallorca.  No tours for me there but wanderings with friends.  Petra and I rent electric bicycles in Palma and spend a beautiful free day exploring the hilltop castle and riding the amazing bike trails along the beach.  About 15km away from the port we enjoy a swim at the beautiful beach and sea before returning to the ship.

 

Cartegena coast

The last full day at sea it is calm, so calm. There is no land in sight.  A striking sunrise greets me in the morning.  Air that is perfection: temperature, movement, and humidity.  

Finally, I have a few moments to myself to pause and reflect, away from all the varied activities and wonderful new friends.  I see two pods of dolphins – and hope for a whale (to no avail).  A tiny sparrow has followed the ship and I'm sure must now stay with us so far out to sea. How can it find anything to eat to eat?  The crew keeps the place so clean. But with landfall the following day, it will be fine.  Just a bit of a cruise with us.

 

Palma de Mallorca: bikes and cathedral with Petra

Facebook Photo Albums:  Cartegena, Palma de Mallorca, Pisa:

https://www.facebook.com/terrilynn.barden.dubreuil/media_set?set=a.10157382310655104.1073741946.804650103&type=3

https://www.facebook.com/terrilynn.barden.dubreuil/media_set?set=a.10157382670220104.1073741947.804650103&type=3 

https://www.facebook.com/terrilynn.barden.dubreuil/media_set?set=a.10157385891395104.1073741948.804650103&type=3

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2015 Italy to France Overnight Bus (March 2)

Bologna, Italy to Lyon, France

March 2

Bologna

Overnight bus from Bologna to Lyon.  I’m leaving earlier than both I or Annamaria had planned, but her cousin has been dealing with cancer and, from a distance at least, seems to be weakening.  Annamaria wants to get there to see her before her tours start in a week and I want her to go as soon as possible.  It was a very full week in Bologna and she was a most gracious and generous friend and hostess.  The experiences I had there are enough to fill a month – and she says she wishes she could have done more.  New flavors, new sites, new friends.  I am leaving with a full heart.  We have already started to make plans about “the next time” - either when she comes to New York with her marathon group or I return to Europe.  I was hoping that she could be the Tour Guide for my group trip to France in April, but it doesn’t seem very plausible through EF Tours.  Karl is hedging politely.

Complex humans are the most interesting of all the earthly entities.  A genuine person:  a good sister to her cousin who is bearing cancer, she is concerned and willing to do anything to help: pray for a miracle, be prepared for the “pragmatic”, research until the early morning hours for the latest breakthroughs of science and natural herbal medicines.  Making plans to go south by overnight bus to be with her cousin as much as possible.  All this in the midst of preparing the myriad details for two separate tour groups, one with a very needy Group Leader who wants to know directly from her minute things like even “what is the weather like” (as if there isn’t an internet where you can find that for yourself) and is who bringing travelers on three different flights who have to be met at the airport, organized and transported to the hotel – just for a start to the tour week.  And in the background of her life her aging mother and her sisters who look to her for strength and help.  A single woman who has survived two not so great relationships and who has had an amazing few hours snatched between spanning years with a magical and honest man.  She explains the details of all the city bus routes, shares detailed historical information as if I’m on tour myself, and remembers the great trip we had in Rome and Florence when we first met.  She can talk for hours non-stop but can be quite and reflective.  She is generous - reluctant to allow me to purchase bus tickets or food or to help clean the house.  Beautiful and striking with bronze skin complemented by her golden coat, mocha eyes that snap and laugh, she reminds me of my best friend from high school at times although I’m not sure exactly why.  Other moments she is weary, burdened by the details of life, looking inward deeply lost in thought.  And then the spark reignites and she returns to complex life she has created.

Waiting for the bus in Bologna, which is late, I meet Bruno, a French student studying in Italy and whose girlfriend lives here.  He is studying languages and she restores paintings.  He had lived in Idaho and loved it, but has never been to the east coast.  With my TravelingArtista card we should be able to keep in touch.  One never knows what chance meetings bring.  After being in a very full busy from Bologna, we are now sitting in Milano while the majority of the travelers have switched buses (including sweet Bruno) fewer people have boarded this bus.  It seems I will have a double seat to myself for a while.  That should be nice as we approach the midnight segment of the ride.

2:17 on the bus and the temperature screen says it has gone from 11C to 5C.  At one point we passed through long and winding tunnels through the mountains, perhaps about 2 K in places.  I sleep a bit and awake to snow on the ground as the drivers stop for fuel.  Sleep again until we are stopped and police enter the bus.  They speak French so I realize bienvenue en France!  Passports are seen and one younger guy is escorted off the bus.  Cap pulled down and those pants that barely hang onto the hips.  He does not seem terribly concerned, but the bus leaves him in the company of the police and we drive on into the night.

High up near the top of the window the moon looks peacefully down.  Suddenly it disappears and the soft glow it gives to the clouds reveal the jagged edge of mountains.  Ah, to see this countryside in the daylight.  The mountains are so high around us.  Lights are sprinkled up the sides of these peaks, obviously from houses and buildings but high enough to seem like stars in the sky.  A light blue double arc on the left is so indistinct I cannot make out what it might possibly be.  Intrigued.  If the moon were only brighter … or better, if the sun were out.  Again and again the midnight orb plays peek-a-boo behind the friendly French mountains.

Arrival should be about 5:30am in Lyon, but Agnès and Pat won’t be awake until 7:30 then they are off to work by 8:30.  Leaving me and the keys to the house alone.  If I don’t get some sleep during this bus ride, I will probably take a nap then, especially if it’s overcast and raining as the weather had stated last time I looked.  Otherwise I’ll be anxious to explore my favorite large city!

 

Lyon, France and the Rhône River