Austrian Christmas - Vienna (Part 3b)

As our train coasted to a stop at Wien Westbahnhof, night was upon us. It was 23 December and Vienna’s West Station was predictably bustling. From here the U-Bonn would speedily deliver us underground to within a few blocks of the comforts of our fine Viennese accommodations.

I wanted to treat M to something special over Christmas and Hotel Wandl was a superb find. This 300 year old structure is situated in the heart of Vienna and has been operated by the same family for generations. The Hotel, and indeed the rooms decorated with period furnishings from the 1800’s, invites you to fall head first into its rich history. It stands down a narrow street from Peterskirche (St. Peter’s Church) and is well within earshot of the chapel bells as they sing throughout the day and evening hours. Here in this marvelously historic setting, you truly feel as if you have stepped back in time.

Stephansplatz is only a few short blocks from our hotel. Here stands the literal heart and soul of Vienna in the majesty of Stephansdom (St. Stephen's Cathedral). This Romanesque and Gothic structure was consecrated on this site in 1147. It’s spires stretch skyward a stunning 450 feet. The glory in this Cathedral is in its richly colored roof formed of almost a quarter-million glazed tiles. And from within, color is again strikingly evident in the gorgeously monumental stained glass windows. Remarkably the Cathedral survived destruction in WWII despite orders for the retreating German army to "fire a hundred shells and leave it in just debris and ashes." Mere words hardly seem worthy in describing this place.

Over the course of the day we walked all over the city. With M as my historical guide, we visited many cultural and architectural sites. We even trekked about 3 miles southeast of City Centre to St. Marxer Friedhof. This graveyard established beyond the walls of the city in the 18th century had its last burials over 130 years ago. There are rows and rows of overgrown graves and crypts. And it is here, on a rainy night in December 1791 where the world’s greatest composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was given a pauper's burial in an unmarked mass grave. Today the “estimated” location of Mozart’s earthly remains is marked by a memorial. The place is stunningly eerie.

Earlier that day M & I had purchased tickets to a Strauss & Mozart konzerte at Kursalon. We were so eager for our special Christmas Eve and looked forward to this night with much anticipation. As evening came, we changed into our best clothes and walked about a half-mile to the Kursalon konzerthall. It was a brisk evening but still quite pleasant. And as we approached Kursalon, it began to snow. Walking with M on Christmas Eve in this well timed snowfall was a magical moment that I’ll never forget.

The concert was wonderful. M entertained the young boy in front of us by making faces. Eventually he returned the gesture and was promptly scolded by his mother for bothering the "nice people". Haaa…It’s always the “reaction” that finds the discipline.

After the concert we made our way toward Christmas Eve dinner. Most restaurants were closed but our Hotel concierge had recommended a place that he promised would certainly be open. He described a casual family type chain restaurant with a good traditional German-Austrian menu. His German-English pronunciation, sounding something like “Wiener World”, failed to evoke a palatable image of a dinner befitting of Christmas Eve. Therefore this, we decided, would be our “Plan B” should a more intimate dining establishment fail to present itself. And since none did, we experienced Christmas Eve at Wienerwald (Vienna Woods). M had the beef goulash and I enjoyed the wiener schnitzel. Half expecting a wiener, I was delighted to enjoy my first “Vienese cutlet” on Christmas Eve in Vienna. And our dinner was so good, that we proclaimed Christmas Eve as “wienderful”.

By now it was after 9:00 p.m. and the only real activity on the streets was the various Christkindlmärkte. Christmas Markets are part of the Bavarian holiday tradition. They are a gathering of holiday merrymakers within and around an open square or park. There are various temporary structures that are nicely decorated with festive greenery and lights. These tiny huts house arts and crafts and music and food and spirits and friends and family and all combine together to enhance the joyous holiday atmosphere of historical Vienna. And for heat there were plenty of barrels filled with burning firewood. It was thrilling.

We quickly became aware that much of the joyous behavior seemed to emanate from the mugs that everyone seemed to have but us. Soon we found that many of the markets furnished mugs, upon the surrender of a modest deposit that could then be filled with Glühwein. And so long as you remained in possession of a mug, this hot mulled wine was available everywhere as the cheerful merrymakers (now including us) traveled from market to market. And as this holiday cheer was offered at remarkably low “Cheer-to-Euro Ratio”, we decided to join in and embrace the gaiety.

It was late on this evening when for some reason we began to follow the lead of virtually everyone else in the City and only speak German. Strange for us since between us we only know English, French and Italian (I’m the English-knower). So given our limited vocabulary we settled for made-up fake German words. Despite our un-German-ness , this was remarkably easy. My goofy woolen stocking cap with the dangly balls on top, bought by the necessity of that night’s weather, thus became my “hoodwinkle”. Words like “du bratslonggen” and “uun chestnutroasten” just roll off the tongue once you get the hang of it. After an hour or so, this fake-German speak came to a colorful (and histerical) end as I backed away from a crowded wine merchant with two newly filled mugs of “newgotten-winehotten” and turned right into the passing elbow of a rather robust Austrian “Biere-trinker”. Forgetting myself and the fragile nature of my personal safety in the heat of this moment, and in full “character” I unleashed a relentless string of the most foul fake German speak ever devised by man ...“Franken-Beanzen-Flockin-Weinzen-Spatzen-Boyzen-Houzen-Brocken-Flamtazelen-Mustof-Fartin”…and on and on and on. It’s remarkable that I wasn’t immediately subjugated as the cause for some sort of International incident. But the big guy (and everyone around us) just stared at me and my nonsensical foul mouth and my half-empty mugs and dripping coat with a look of puzzled pity. I thought M was going to drop a laughter-induced puddle right there on the straw covered soil of the Rathausplatz Christkindlemarkt. Once again, an instant eternal memory.

We had such a remarkably unique and fun-filled day. And the night before Christmas has never been more delightfully provocative, and yet so strangely remote from home and tradition and family.

Christmas morning brought the time honored tradition of Santa Claus. And over the last few days together we had each managed to acquire a small stash gifts to which each would awaken. They were carefully arranged on the fireplace and within stockings.

Then we readied ourselves to depart. We left our baggage with the Concierge and headed with purpose to Hofburgkapelle, the Imperial Chapel of Vienna’s Hofburg Palace. On this special morning, and in this most apropos city, we hoped for a chance to attend Christmas morning Mass with the music of Joseph Hayden performed by the Wiener Sängerknaben, a.k.a. Vienna Boys' Choir. This world renowned choir has been performing at Hofburgkapelle for more than 500 years. The Boys’ Choir performs from an upper balcony at the rear of the Chapel and is, for the most part appropriately invisible to the gathering worshipers so as to not detract from the sanctity of the Mass. And when they performed, the heavenly sound of the choir and soloists on this day and in this place was nothing short of divine. The Mass of course was beautiful, albeit in German but the music was spectacular!

And as we went from the Mass and returned to the Hotel to gather our baggage I remember an overwhelming feeling of accomplishment on our mission of a memorable Christmas! But one last objective remained. On this afternoon, four hours of train travel would deliver us into the Czech Republic where I had pre-arranged a rendezvous for Christmas dinner. I’ve never been to Prague and I haven’t seen my old friend for twenty-four years. I truly cannot wait!

Austrian Christmas - Salzburg (Part 3a)

As our train slid off of the island and on to the main land, traveling due north from Venice to Villach and then sliced though the mist and into the snowy Alpines toward Salzburg, I caught glimpses of mountains and slivers of towns between naps. The chill and the altitude of the Eastern Alps in Austria are a significant contrast to the unmistakable proximity to sea level in the Venetian Islands and lagoons. Traveling through northern Italy and into Austria you can actually see the changing climate and geography. The contrast is so dramatic in such a short span of time and distance…just 250 miles. You can almost feel the centuries peeling away and rolled back again, back and forth from Byzantine to Renaissance to Gothic to Baroque. And the music - you can almost hear its magnificence. Beethoven, Haydn, Schubert, Brahms, Mozart! The Austrian hills are indeed alive with the sound of it all.



As a side note, who hasn’t heard Franz Schubert’s “Ave Maria” or Johannes Brahms’ “Hungarian Dance” or Ludwig van Beethoven’s “Turkish March” or his “Symphony No 5 in C Minor”…duh-duh-duh-duhm! The music inspired by the Austrian culture is arguably the best timeless music ever imagined. And if you have never heard Mozart’s Symphony #25 In G Minor, then you really need to stop what you are doing and do so now…fabulous!

Upon our arrival in Salzburg we were greeted by a shroud of dense fog that clung to the city. It hung there above us, ever so delicately and just beyond the reach of the many church spires like a soft teasing phantasm. And it heightened one’s senses. This sheltering blanket of mist held sounds close to their source, not offered the usual space to expand and dissipate themselves. This thick afternoon haze created a diffused sunlight that intensified visible color and created spectacular images devoid of shadow. The brisk air was so - how can I describe it – “new” and fresh that it stood in stark contrast to the aged buildings and cobbled streets that it enveloped. The air was noticeable!

We walked along the winding river Salzach, climbed to the Nonnberg Abbey (of “The Sound of Music” fame), visited Mozart’s Geburtshaus (birthplace) and stood in the shadow of the medieval Hohensalzburg Fortress. Salzburg is steeped in history and you could feel it everywhere.

As we passed a little shop, Christmas in Salzburg, I noticed eager shoppers admiring a window display. As I snapped a quick picture my mind carried me back twenty-five years…

In the spring of 1983 Denise and I purchased a carved wood nativity in Manheim, Germany on a whim. It was a nice enough piece but not the sort of thing a young college couple would normally choose to tote around Europe in their backpacks. It was a round setting with intricately carved figures and with candles at its quadrant corners. Above was a smallish wooden propeller that caught draft from the rising heat causing the men and gifts and beasts to rotate and thus encircle the miraculous new born and family in the center stable.

Within a few years, although they may not recall, this moving nativity had become a wondrous Christmas spectacle to our very young children – watching the animals go around and around, motivated by the invisible force of the flames. Ultimately though, this little treasure would meet an unfortunate demise in 1992 when it, together with many of our other possessions, was consumed in the flames of a building fire. Our daughters were 8, 5 and 2.

So, as sentiment would have it, finding a suitable replacement this close to the Black Forest would become a priority as my Christmas surprise for Denise and our girls. Imagine my surprise as we approached the shop window and realized that the window shoppers in my last photo were admiring the only wood carved rotating nativity in the store. Remarkably, it is visible in the above photo within the shop window between the couple on the right. It is almost an exact replica of its predecessor although slightly larger in scale. Hesitation gripped me, brought upon by a combination of sticker-shock and bewilderment at the ease with which I found this gift. Perhaps rather, it found me. Fortunately I shook this off, swallowed hard and pulled the trigger as this would be the only rotating nativity that we would see on this trip through Austria. The shop keeper and assistant proceeded to the window, removed the centerpiece of their Christmas display and proceeded to disassemble it for packaging. Completing the transaction, I once again assumed the burden of fragile nativity toting in Europe…déjà vu, all over again!


We walked up and down winding paths and along cobbled streets. All the while, there was an unmistakable feeling of our nearness to Christmas despite our distance from home. And as a cool winter's night settled over Salzburg the crisp chill of the alpine air began to penetrate into our bones.


Hotel Wolf is a family owned hotel reconstructed within a 500 year old building that immediately felt like a real home with its Austrian country-style bedroom. This was a wonderful accommodation with an excellent breakfast. And it was situated nicely in old town Salzburg.

Although we thoroughly enjoyed our stay in Salzburg, our Austrian Christmas destination really was 190 miles (300km) due east in Vienna.

Tuscany verso Veneto (Part 2)

Checking our luggage at Pisa Centrale Station, we decended upon the city with purpose. It’s a pity that the Piazza del Duomo and it's structures, the Baptistery, the Duomo and especially the Campanile dominate the interest of tourists in this scenic city bisected by the river Arno. But in the interest of time we succumbed to this failure of respect as well. And so much as it had been twenty four years ago for Denise and I, and despite its history and other splendors, Pisa was again for us a quick stop on the way to somewhere else.

The Duomo Pisa (Cathedral Pisa) was built between 1063 and 1118 and is the largest Romanesque church in Tuscany. And the Duomo, the Baptistery and the Bell Tower have great unity in spite of using various architectual elements such as Byzantine mozaic, pointed Islamic arch, small arcade of Lombardy and colonnade of Old Roma.

The famed Leaning Tower of Pisa, also Romanesque, is the bell tower of the Cathedral. Its construction began in 1173 and continued (with two long interruptions) for about two hundred years. The tower is 55.86 m (183.27 ft) from the ground on the lowest side and 56.70 m (186.02 ft) on the highest side. Its weight is estimated at 14,500 metric tons (32,000 pounds). The tower has 296 or 294 steps; the seventh floor has two fewer steps on the north-facing staircase. The tower leans at an angle of 3.97 degrees. This means that the top of the tower is 3.9 meters (12 ft 10 in) from where it would stand if the tower were perfectly vertical.

In the past it was widely believed that the inclination of the Tower was part of the project from its beginning, but this is not so. The Tower was designed to be vertical. It started to incline during its construction. And even if it did not lean it would still be one of the most remarkable bell towers in Europe.

Denise and I enjoyed the thrill of seeing our children mount the leaning tower and stroll the exquisite lawns of Piazza del Duomo beneath a brilliant blue sky as we had alone so many years ago...Deja Vu.

As our day in Pisa came to a close, we found ourselves back on the train and bound for Siena.

The Duomo Siena was begun in the twelfth century and remains a great example of Italian Romanesque architecture. Its main façade was completed in 1380. It is unusual for a Christian cathedral in that its axis runs north-south. It was originally intended to be much larger, with a north-south transept and an east-west aisle, as is usual. After the completion of the transept, construction was halted by lack of funds and the onset of the black plague and was never resumed. The outer walls and floor of the beginnings of the addition, intended to be within the larger cathedral, remains today as an exterior façade and parking plaza.

Piazza del Campo is a medieval square and the principal public space of Siena. The piazza is paved in a herringbone pattern of red brick with nine contrasting lines of division which converge at the low center. Eleven narrow streets extend from these divisions of the piazza and represent areas of the city which each bear their own unique flags and symbology.

The Torre del Mangia was built between 1325-1348. The tower is the exact same height as the Duomo as a sign that the church and the state had equal amounts of power.

We stayed in a lovely bed and breakfast in the heart of historical centre of Siena. The Antica Residenza Cicogna dates back to the middle ages and is an enchanting building with spacious rooms each with frescoes dating back as far as the thirteenth century. We were treated to the room of the “Lions” and the room of the “Angel”. It is operated by a father and daughter team that offer impeccable service. And the “genuinely homemade breakfast” was astounding!

Montalcino was MG's gift to our family. We departed Siena early via private limosine for the Castello Banfi Montalcino where we enjoyed a full day of fine food, wine, a tour of the grounds and winery and more wine. To make this day even more special, we appeared to be the only guests on this day and were treated to service especialle.

Castello Banfi is a family-owned vineyard estate and winery in the Brunello region of Tuscany. Upon their 2900 hectare estate (7100 acres), one-third is cultivated in noble vines, and the balance in olive groves, wheat, truffles and plums, and forests filled with deer, wild boar and pheasants.

Teodolinda Banfi, who inspired the founding and naming of Banfi Vintners, earned a place in papal history by being the first lay person ever to head a pope's household staff. Her nephew, John Mariani, Sr., established the company that bears her name in 1919.

We returned to Siena as we arrived, except for wine and memories within and of course the "burden" of twenty some bottles of excellent souveneers.

On the heels of the rich history and majestic art and architecture of Roma and the awsome beauty and charm of Tuscany, we were about to fall head first into the absolute enchantment of the Veneto. WOW!

By all accounts, Venice possesses a breathtaking attraction. Its reliance upon water, and the simultanious threat of water, combined with the romanticism of Italian culture and a juxtaposition against a rich history of Pursian and Islamic influences all combine to compound upon themselves to create a unique city that borders on the surreal. It's allure is perhaps beyond the discription of words and beyond the capture of photography. I think perhaps that the wonderous enchantment of this "City of Water" can only be held in poetry...

White swan of cities, slumbering in thy nest
So wonderfully built among the reeds
Of the lagoon, that fences thee and feeds,
As sayeth thy old historian and thy guest!
White water-lily, cradled and caressed
By ocean streams, and from the silt and weeds
Lifting thy golden filaments and seeds,
Thy sun-illumined spires, thy crown and crest!
White phantom city, whose untrodden streets
Are rivers, and whose pavements are the shifting
Shadows of palaces and strips of sky;
I wait to see thee vanish like the fleets
Seen in mirage, or towers of cloud uplifting
In air their unsubstantial masonry.

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Venice has a population of almost 300,000 stretched across the mainland and 118 small islands in the marshy salt water of the Venitian Lagoon along the Adriatic Sea in northeast Italy. During the 20th century wells were sunk around the perimeter of the lagoon to pump water for local industrial uses. As a result, the city began to sink into the sea. In 1960, wells were banned and the sinking stopped. However the city routinely experiences flooding as tidal waters rise.

We stayed in a lovely pension, La Calcina on the Zattere waterfront. It is known also as "Ruskin's House" as it served for a time in 1877 as the residence of the art and architecture esseyist John Ruskin. The pension is family owned and operated and affronts a pedestrian promenade on the edge of the Giudecca Canal and holds an incomparable panoramic view.

We ventured one day by private boat to the island of Murano known for its world renowned glass artisans. In 1291, Venice ordered all of its glassmakers to move their foundries to the island of Murano to quell the risk of fires. In the century that followed, Murano held a virtual monopoly on Venetion glass and exports supported the flourishing industry. Glass and crystalline stemware, chandeliers, multi-colored glass jewelry, artwork and figurines are everywhere within shops, studios and foundary showrooms. The sheer beauty and elegance of this craft is stunning.

And as if Venice needed additional intrigue, the wares of the Maskmakers Guild hold a mystical prominace among the many shop windows along the Venetian promanades. The mask-wearing tradition of Carnevale Di Venezia dates back to 1268. This festival is observed each year between Christmas and Lent.

Our last day was spent much like the rest, enjoying the many tiny bridges and tangled walkways along the water within the city. Literally every view was picture-worthy and yet, paradoxically no picture could ever adequately convey the nature of Venice.

Before sunrise on our fourth day, I would watch from the promanade as Denise, K, J and MG together with the bulk of our luggage and all of our Tuscan wine boarded a small chartered boat bound for the airport and slipped away into the silent mist of the venitian night.

Our Holiday Recipe for Rendezvous' (Part 1)

Slipping through Customs at Roma Leonardo da Vinci - Fiumicino Airport, I'm thrilled to see M awaiting me smiling. It’s great to see her again…GREAT! Our last meeting, October in Roma, seems so distant. M has been abroad since September with forty-eight of her peers in the Roma Studies Programme offered through the School of Architecture at the University of Notre Dame. I’ve missed her so much and am so happy to see her again.

Careful planning afforded the luxury of my arrival only minutes ahead of the flight carrying Denise, K, J and MG. I traveled alone from Omaha through Chicago. Denise and K flew from Omaha through Atlanta to rendezvous with J and MG whose flight originated in Seattle. We were all to arrive in Rome where M would have a University shuttle and driver waiting. This was a highly orchestrated travel sequence and we gave it our best shot with little expectation of complete success. It relied upon the timely use of five alarm clocks, four suitcases, two backpacks, five assorted carryon bags, three cars, five planes, a subway, a commuter train, an Italian driver and his limo/van and the accuracy of air transportation schedules on two continents. And when we arrived in Rome, we realized that it had worked flawlessly. This would be a wonderful Holiday!

There were six of us in all and our itinerary was organized in four distinct segments...

Part 1 – “December in Roma” would include Denise, J, K, M, MG and me. We would spend four days in Rome (A) exploring and becoming familiar with M’s life here.

Part 2 – “Tuscany verso Venito” would be another four days in Pisa (B), Siena (C), Montalcino (D), Venice and Murano (E). Then Denise, K, J and MG would depart for home from Venice as M and I continued on to five days of travel over the Christmas Holiday.

Parts 3a and 3b – Our time leading up to Christmas was split between two cities, “Austrian Christmas - Salzburg” and "Austrian Christmas - Vienna" was my additional week of travel with M, at “great personal sacrifice” so that M could remain in the presence of family over Christmas and to further her position toward a rendezvous with other traveling peers as they launched their offensive upon Europe from the north. We would travel to Salzburg (F) and Vienna (G) and our original goal was to have a memorable Christmas despite being alone.

Part 4 – “Never Been to Praha” was time carved out at the last moment to accommodate a reunion of sorts with an old friend from New York that I had met in London during my own study abroad experience. Ironically I found him just weeks before our departure from home and he was living precisely where M had planned her rendezvous with peers...in Prague, Czech Republic. (H). A quick shift in return flights and a 3 hour train ride would reunite us…this time however as part of my daughter’s study abroad adventure.

I would then depart from Prague and leave M to another week of travel with several of her ND friends prior to her return to Rome for another semester of study and amazing experiences to last a lifetime.

Lexi & Dover’s Big Adventure

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. This National holiday, observed each year on the fourth Thursday in November, is traditionally set aside for time with family and giving thanks for our wonderful lives in this great land. And more and more, being with family on Thanksgiving inevitably involves some degree of travel. And so following with tradition, I thought it most fitting to publish my first family travel post with a wonderful memory of last year’s Thanksgiving adventure.

Virtually all of our travel in the past twenty-five years has been with our children. Except, I guess for a return trip to London and Paris, a long awaited reunion of sorts, following our last payment on our last student loan that subsidized my studies abroad a dozen years before. So we’ve traveled some, well actually a lot, as a family but we never really traveled much with our two dogs, Lexi and Dover. They’d make the 2-hour trip to Grand Island to spend holidays and other special occasions with their “grandparents”. And periodically they would pack up their beds and bowls for a week or so at “Grandpa Camp” while Denise and I and the girls would be off on vacation. But they were never much for travel and so it never occurred to us to attempt any cross-country driving with these two in tow. Nor had it occurred to us to prepare a good excuse not to. So when K suggested that we load up a couple of last-minute stowaways and deliver a Thanksgiving surprise to her sister in South Bend we thought the ordeal to be simple enough and so in they went and off we were.

I must say that “Lexi and Dover’s Big Adventure” was indeed both big and adventurous.

The adventure began with lunch to go at a sandwich shop only a few blocks from home. As we maneuvered our car from the parking lot Lexi decided, without warning, to leap over the back seat and onto the full soda cups and fresh sandwiches. Upon calming of dog and suppression of words (actually a mixture of equal parts laughter and cursing), we assessed the damage and proceeded directly to the grocery across the street to procure wipes and towels in anticipation of any future adventurous behavior.

We traveled due east from Omaha, Nebraska across the Missouri River, through the state of Iowa, across the Mississippi River and into Illinois. We skirted the edge of Chicago and then proceeded into Indiana.

We spent an adventurous night in a hotel in South Bend where two dogs enjoyed an evening of spender that included several parking lot island sniffs and many simple to chew miniature ice cubes that popped magically from a noisy machine to two waiting mouths thus to satisfy their ever eager canine anticipation in glorious fashion. The evening concluded with wonderous slumber in their very own queen bed.

The next morning began early with a quick sniff and go and we were back on the road. We continued on through Indiana, touched into Ohio and then proceeded northward into Michigan. Our destination was Farmington Hills. This is a wonderful community just northwest of Detroit proper that is home to 84,000 residents including the family of MM, one of M's close friends at ND, and where M had been welcomed as a Thanksgiving guest. At a distance of approximately 750 miles (1,200 kilometers) and accounting for speed and the occasional stop and sniff, we overcame this distance in a matter of 13 hours of road time.

The surprise was incredibly successful. M and friends were overwhelmed with the thrill of four pointy white ears and black eyes eagerly peering out through the windows of the car. There were hugs and licks all around…a special moment indeed. Nice idea K.

Surprise and adventures notwithstanding, this cross country journey went remarkably well considering long travel with two anxious hairy dogs, contained within a small vehicle and propelled in a cloud of white hair through five states and two time zones…and back. I recall suggesting that perhaps next time we would throw in three or four live chickens to liven up the trip!

Gazing thought the car windows Lexi and Dover witnessed much new countryside, many fueling travelers, a small fire, two cats, four deer, some construction workers and toll booth attendants, three traveling Thanksgiving floats and a horse and buggy! They traversed several river bridges, endured a bumpy gravel road, ate fast food like real travelers, enjoyed their own bed in our hotel, went outside for their midnight “business” (with their “dad” who wasn’t too happy about it), delivered the Thanksgiving surprise of their presence, met a young man from Maryland and a family from Michigan. They toured the Notre Dame campus and received much attention from many young collage students who missed the touch of their own dogs. They smelled lots and lots of new stuff and “marked their territory” in five new states.

And when it was through, they returned home knowing they had just experienced the adventure of their lives.

October in Roma

I’d expanded beyond my small carry on case but my burden remained plenty light. My return without the goods that I’m toting to leave with M should offer plenty of space for four or five bottles of Italian wine and a pound or two of coffee beans. Packing some empty space is always good practice when traveling.

I awoke to discover an e-mail from M. She’s anxiously awaiting my arrival in Rome and had explained everything in detail. I now have instructions to assist me through Customs, navigating the airport, exchanging currency, ticketing and boarding the train to Roma Termini, ticketing and boarding the Metro to Colosseo Station, and all the landmarks which identify my turns as I walk the distance between the Colosseum and the Hotel Navona a block away from her studio. Excellent! She reminds me so much of me. I stuffed the information in my bag and an hour later I was hugging Denise and K as they dropped me off at the airport. I’m so excited but the trip seems oddly unreal, perhaps because I am travelling alone.

The flight was brutal, or more accurately my intolerance to the flight was brutal. I was just too impatient I guess. I followed the directions as described by M without difficulty and my first step out into Roman life was exiting the Metro Station at the Colosseum. It was about 10:00 a.m. and the morning was a gorgeous 75-degrees F and slightly overcast. I had been in Rome with Denise for three days nearly twenty-five years ago and had retained fragments of memories but, as I was about to find, with little accurately. And here I was again. Wow…no, WOW! I snapped a picture of my bewildered self in honor of the occasion.

The 55,000 seat Colosseum opened in Rome in 80 AD, eight years after its commissioning by Emperor Vespasian. The 80 arched entrances and internal system of vomitoria and corridors allowed the capacity, and often unruly crowd, to arrive and be seated in ten minutes. Its Valerium was a huge overhead awning that shaded spectators. It was supported by poles above the upper story and was hoisted and anchored in position by a ring of bollards at the ground outside. The colosseum was used for shows with animals performing circus tricks, gladiator fights to the death and mock sea battles.

I traversed the distance to M on foot and with luggage on wheels on cobblestone in about fifteen minutes. I met M in her Studio and following a grand embrace, a brief tour and introductions, I then walked about a block to my Hotel. I sat down on the bed and then awoke an hour later.

We ate La Focaccia at Piazza Santa Maria della Pace. We convinced the staff to serve us at one of their tables outdoors. We were the only ones there and enjoyed the coming and going of a wedding party through the Piazza and into Santa Maria della Pace.

Morning began, as every morning would, with Espresso. On this first morning M introduced me to Sant’ Eustachio il Caffe’ and their Grancaffe’. M preferred the Grancappuccino. Although it is rare to find a “bad” or even “average” espresso in Rome, the espresso prepared in this caffe' is arguably the best liquid fuel in the City. Sant’ Eustachio il Caffe’ has been legendary in Rome since it opened in the 30’s. The water is from an aqueduct built in 19 BC. The barista works behind a screen to maintain the secrecy of their process that produces an espresso with crema, a reddish-brown foam that floats on the surface, so rich and abundant that you must finish it with a spoon! Following a few days of other excellent caffe’, I gravitated back to Sant’ Eustachio il Caffe’ for the rest of my mornings.

Espresso and cappuccino within, M would be off to studio and I was alone with the City. And fortunately I was not without the desire and opportunity to explore every bit of its awesome history and culture. Rome's classical beauty is everywhere but I found it most enjoyable in her details. Each day I would explore in a different part of the City. Each day I’d either return to Studio or we would meet at some predetermined location. We would walk to some place I had just seen or that M had wanted to take me. Each evening we enjoyed wine with dinner and a moonlight walk through part of the City.

No words can adequately describe this but I remember feeling that she seemed so mature and at ease in this urban Italian environment. She would help me navigate and recall long forgotten elements of my architectural history courses in college. She identified and explained many of the places and things that she had enjoyed. For the first time, I felt like the parent of an adult. I guess I have been for some time now but never noticed it before. It felt great.

I've purposly omitted the usual sightseeing summary here. That sort of business is perhaps best absorbed through experience rather than description. But I've assembled a few of my favorate Roman travel images and amazing details for your viewing pleasure if you are so inclined as to click the appropriate links above.

Our last dinner was spent at the Caffe' Ciampini, a wonderful little outdoor ristoranti that I spotted while walking from the top of the Spanish Steps toward the Pincio, the lookout over the Piazza del Popolo, its ancient egyptian obelisk, its twin churches of Santa Maria di Montesanto and Santa Maria dei Miracoli and the Porta del Popolo. The night was cool, the food and wine were excellent, the service was impecable, the nighttime view from the vantagepoint of this overlook and the lighted churches and piazzas and St. Peter's Basilica, and M's bubbling smile was, well, breathtaking. Another "forever moment" logged for eternity.