A Tourist in the North

Steve

Autumn colors of the vineyards in Northern Italy made the landscape all the more spectacular  

While we were here we wanted to take the opportunity to explore some other parts of the country, so we put together a week long trip that included Florence, Venice, and Modena.  Both Jo Anne and I had been to Florence and Venice previously, but Modena was an unknown.  All I really knew was that the Ferrari factory is based in Modena, but for me that was not really a draw.  (Never been much of a gear head.)  From the time when we arrived in Florence, what really struck me (as it did on our previous trip north) was how different northern Italy is when compared to the Amalfi coast.  The cities have such a different feel to them, not only due to the cooler climate, but clear differences in architecture, food, and culture.

I enjoyed all three cities, but found Modena to be the most interesting of the three.  While I think that this is partially due to the fact that it was my first visit, what I really enjoyed was that Modena feels like a real Italian city.  While Florence and Venice offer world renown art and architecture, to me the soul of these cities seems less intact.  For these places, tourism has become so a large part of the economy that they seem to exist solely so that people like me can wander through them and gawk.  This is certainly more the case in Venice than Florence.  Don't get me wrong.  Venice is one of the most unique and beautiful cities I have ever had the pleasure of visiting.  I thoroughly enjoyed this last visit and I hope to return someday.  However, as I cut through throngs of tourists along the grand canal I couldn't help but feel that no Italians really live there anymore.  (I don't believe you will ever find one of the city's residents riding in one of the many gondolas that crowd the docks, unless he is of course, a gondolier.)  Every aspect of the city seems organized around the tourist dollar, forcing those who work in the shops to commute from outside the city because it has gotten too expensive for the majority to live within the city proper.  It is a sad dilemma that the more a city bases its economy on the tourist trade, the more it risks becoming a parody of itself.  And while Positano faces the same problem to some extent, here there is an off season when the tourists vacate the premises (well, most of them ;) giving the town a chance to catch its breath and regain its identity.  This is less the case for Venice, where carnival draws a solid crowd in winter.

Cruising along the grand canal is a great way to take in the beauty of Venice.

In contrast, Modena was clearly a thriving city with an identity steeped in food and fast cars.  We toured a farm that produces balsamic vinegar (more fascinating than it sounds) and a dairy that produces parmesan cheese, both products that in part define this region of Italy.  We stayed in the historic part of the city, where the streets are lined with clothing shops, cafes, and a variety of nondescript small businesses doing the things small businesses do.  All the things that bring a city to life and give it personality.  The morning I was there was cloudy and quite cool, and I watched people bundled in coats and scarves crowd the counter at the local bar for a quick expresso before heading off to offices and shops.  Many of them were commuting on bicycles, as cars are limited in the old part of downtown.  And all this coming and going is set against the backdrop of a cityscape whose foundation was laid down by the Romans thousands of years ago.  For me it was one of those little moments you kind of savor because it feels as though it couldn't happen anywhere else in the world.  I wish we had arranged to spend more time in Modena, not only because they take food to a whole new level, but because I feel like we just skimmed the surface of a place that offers a great depth of experience.  Chalk up one more reason for our next trip to Italy. 

The girls tolerated the gondola tour, which they thought would be exciting until they got in the gondola.

A momentary lapse of crowds in St Mark's square.

Carnival came early for a select group of Venetian visitors.

The entry to villa San Donnino, one of the locations where they produce traditional balsamic vinegar.

Standing among barrels of traditional balsamic vinegar, which ages a minimum of 12 years.  Minimum aging for the good stuff: 25 years.

Did I mention we won a lifetime of Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese?  (Not sure how we are going to get it home.)

Firenze

The Baptistry doors

by Jo Anne

Recently we did some traveling away from Positano.  Our first stop was Florence and the first place we visited within the city was the Duomo, the soaring church dome that symbolizes the proud Renaissance period.  Sorry, I think that was a regurgitation of my Rick Steves' audio guide.  ;)

We were standing in line waiting to buy tickets to climb up into the Duomo when someone at the information booth took a look at Samantha's little legs and said "You do realize it's 462 steps up to the top."   Normally I would have been concerned as well.  I hate to say it but our girls are occasionally "wimps" about hiking and climbing.  The difference is we have been living on a cliff for two months.  It is 354 steps up to our apartment from the town center.  I told him I didn't think it would be a problem.  We bought our two tickets and started up.  We have become a two ticket family.  We used to buy three tickets or even four depending upon the age requirements for entry.  At some point on this trip though, we were trying to decide if we needed to buy Ella a bus ticket when a man working the counter asked us her age.  We told him she was seven.  Children five years old and under rode free.  He said to us, "You're in Italy.  Say she's five!".  Ever since then, Ella has been five at the ticket booths.  So today with our two tickets, we followed the girls up through the ancient, narrow, spiraling staircase.  I began to feel a bit claustrophobic towards the end and could barely keep up with them.  I followed their giggles.  Before reaching the top we came to the point at which there is walkway that circles underneath the dome.  It's amazing because you can get a closeup view of the fresco on the ceiling.  The scene depicts judgement day with sinners being pulled down into a fiery monstrous pit and others floating up towards heaven.  It frightened the girls and sparked a lot of questions.  For me, I started contemplating our two ticket status. That's a white lie..right?   One more staircase and we had reached the top.   The view from the Duomo is unforgettable.  I had been there 18 years ago with my parents and I still remembered it well.  The red tiled roofs stretch out in all directions and at their end, in the distance, you can see the start of the Tuscan countryside. We took some time to soak it in.

View from the Duomo

The Last Judgement

Big Basilica, Little Girls

Posing with David.

Palazzo Vecchio

Perseus with the head of Medussa.

Outside the Uffizi Gallery

Fountain of Neptune

Next was the Palazzo Vecchio, the Piazza della Signoria with its statues, and then the Uffizi gallery.  From what I've heard, the crowds can be unbearable in the Uffizi during the summer months but on this Tuesday in November it was not a long wait.  I had book, a map, and a Rick Steves' audio guide loaded up and ready to take us through the paintings.  I lost the guide book and map to Ella in room number one.  She was so excited and told me she wanted to see every painting (this was unexpected!).  I'm not sure if she was inspired by the intellectual nature of Hermoine Granger (She has been very into the Harry Potter books lately.  In fact, I think I might have detected a very slight British accent from her at one point.)  or if it was more like a treasure hunt for her.  She had the book and a map and she needed to find those particular paintings that had been singled out and described.  Whatever the reason, I was amazed at her curiosity.  At the end, I suddenly couldn't find her and had to backtrack looking for her.  She was in a room of portraits, a room that Steve and I had walked through without much notice, with our eyes glazed over after having been there for almost three hours.  She was circling the room, reading each of the descriptions and then looking up at the portraits.  I never imagined I would be saying this to her but I had to ask  "Would it be OK if we left the museum soon?  I'm really hungry.".  Thankfully, she agreed.

We bought Ella and Samantha little sketch books at the museum's gift shop and they filled them with their own versions of some of the paintings.  I got permission to put a few up here.

Ella's Duke and Duchess of Urbino

The Duke and Duchess of Urbino by Piero della Francesca

Da Vinci's Annunciation

The Shield of Medussa

Antonello's Garden and the Olives

Antonello, family, and friends.

The first time I saw an olive tree, or at least noticed one, was here in Positano on our honeymoon ten years ago.  We were hiking and they were everywhere.  It was clear the olive was a staple.  I never imagined ten years later I'd be back helping to pick them, but last Saturday we found ourselves in Antonello's garden under the olive trees. Antonello is someone we met while hiking up in Montepertuso a couple of months ago.  There is something very endearing about him.  I think it's the warm smile, his friendly nature, and the way he seems passionate about his garden.  I had bumped into him in town earlier that week and he had told me they were harvesting the olives this weekend and we should join them.  We took him up on it and so on Saturday found him out there with family and friends picking the last of the olive crop.

Il Bucco

Montepertuso through the olive trees.

It was one of those blue sky days here and still warm enough for just a t-shirt.  I kept looking up at Il Bucco or looking down at the sun sparkling on the sea and pulling out my camera.  Steve wanted to know if I was ever going to help pick some olives.  I did. We did!  They were pruning the trees at this late date and our job was picking the last of the olives off of the cut branches.  We usually get only ten minutes of yard work out of the girls these days.  Their infatuation with raking leaves has long died out.  This day though they showed some stamina.  We filled one big white bucket with olives that we were tempted to write "Gustavino" across.  Everyone had their job.  Samantha's was moving the empty branches over into a big pile.  She took it very seriously and no one else was allowed to do that task.  We think she might be a member of a union.  Ella picked and picked.  I'm sure the job loses some of its magic when you are doing it day after day with the pressures of getting the job done, but for us tourists the magic was still there.  It was a sweet afternoon.  

At the end of the day, Antonello gave us a ride back into town.  It turns out he lives a few buildings down the road from us!  I had thought he lived in Montepertuso, but that is only where his garden sits.  That night when Samantha was having her standard "heavenly bread" dipped in olive oil and balsamic vinegar, I told her "you helped make some of that today".   "This?" she asked with a smile.  "Mmmmm".

Antonello's wife and daughter (somehow they missed the earlier picture)

I love this picture of Antonello's mom and Samantha

Union labor

A machine used to filter out leaves and twigs from the olives

I Have a Problem

Steve

Spotting this little vegetable shop, I ducked in to grab a healthy snack before heading back to Positano.

Having misplaced my jacket somewhere between here and London, I jumped on an early bus to do a little shopping in a place called Piano di Sorrento.  A small town close to Sorrento but without any notable tourist traffic and the high prices that come with it.  I figured I would canvas the main shopping strip and its side streets to see what I could find, and maybe grab a quick bite before catching the bus back to Positano by mid afternoon.  I covered a lot of ground early on, identified a couple of possibilities, and by 12:30 I'd picked up a jacket (basic black, nothing fancy) and a pair of shoes (semi-fancy).  With my purchases in hand, I stood on the main drag looking for a bus, enjoying the warmth of the sun, happy I had what I came for before the 1pm shut down.  (Shops typically close from 1:00 to 4:00 for lunch.  I'll be starting a petition drive to get this same schedule implemented across the US when I return.)  Standing there, waiting for the bus, I realized I was kinda hungry.  Twenty minutes later, with no bus in sight, I decided to walk down the boulevard to see if I could pick up a little snack before the hour long ride home.  

Now I've had my share of Italian meals with lots of pasta, and I figured today would be the perfect opportunity to eat light for a change.  You know, maybe an apple or a half a panini.  Within two minutes I stumbled onto this vegetable stand, so I ducked in to see what they had.  It turned out to be a bit more than just a veggie stand, with a deli, wine bar, and a few tables in the back.  After considering the boxes of fresh apples, tangerines, and plums, I ended up with the lunch pictured below.

What's wrong with me?  How come I can't seem to say "No" whenever I encounter a big plate of pasta?  Do they have something like the Betty Ford Clinic for people like me?  I'm guessing they probably do, but I won't be able to sign up until I get back to the US and by then the damage will have already been done.  (Sigh.)  One would think that after the better part of three months we would be over the food.  I mean really, we have had almost nothing but pasta and pizza since we arrived and you'd think at some point that stuff would not seem all that appealing.  Yet here I was with a huge plate of lasagna, a glass of red wine and basket of bread, and a big smile on my face.  

In any case, I have no regrets for having stopping in for "an apple".  Probably the best lasagna I've ever had, and the place itself was full of Italian charm.  In front of me was a wall full of wine bottles (although mine was poured from a tap.  Yeah, wine from a tap!) and behind me was a wall of dried pasta for purchase.  Tomatoes, sausages, and various dried meets hung from a ceiling so low that any patrons taller than myself (i.e. all the other patrons) had to duck to avoid getting tangled up in all the ceiling riff-raff.  There were two guys running the place, one short and squat with close cropped hair and the other a big tall guy who clearly had run into his share of sausages.  They both moved around the tiny serving area with plates of food, boxes of produce and a bit of good natured humor that even a foreigner like myself could pick up.  All in all, a great stop to wrap up a good day.  With any luck I'll make it back for an apple or two before we head home. 

Patrons dodge ceiling deco while placing their order.

One member of the Laurel and Hardy team dropping off a plate of meatballs to the gents next to me.

If you're in a rush, they have wine to go!

Social Graces

The boat ride back from Fornillo beach on warmer days.

by Jo Anne

"Mommy, why is that man in his underwear?!",  Samantha asked with a giggle.  We were on the beach and a man was standing in front of us wearing a small,  older style, European bathing suit.  I don't think he heard but she keeps us on our toes.  If it's not Scarlet Letter style outings of people smoking cigarettes it's something else.  Yesterday we were down in town and ran into one of our neighbors and his friend.  We've spoken to him many times and I'm sure Samantha knows him.  I think that his sunglasses threw her and so in the middle of the conversation she grabbed my hands and yelled "Who are these people?!"  Social graces are obviously not big at age five.  Sometimes instead of making me squirm though her offhand comments make me smile.  The other day she said "Mom, God is really strong'."  I agreed with her although I had no idea where it came from.  I considered that was a rather deep thought for a five year old.  She turned me around and pointed to a painting.  "Look at the muscles on him!" she said.  We were in an art gallery and she was looking at a painting of a very muscular Jesus being pulled from the tomb by two angels.

Today I risked social etiquette and spent a day on the town with the girls.  Steve had gone into Sorrento, the closest city to us, to buy a new jacket.  We somehow both lost our jackets on the flight over here.  The sun was back after a week of rainy weather and so we walked down to the beach.  I've realized that Positano is a small town. The first time that came to mind was when we came through the "Take Away Pizza" entrance of one of the local restaurants, a staple of ours now.  We had been in there a few weeks earlier picking up pizzas for dinner on our way back from the beach.   This time the woman at the counter remembered us and asked us where we were staying and where we were from.  She recognized us and I guess was wondering what we were still doing here three weeks later!  Our neighbor quoted a phrase "After ten days, people say hello."  I  suppose at that point they think you are not a tourist and are actually living here.  One big truth is that the kindness of people here fits with what you would expect to find in a small town.  You would think they would be tired of the tourists by now after a whole season of buses and cruise ships passing through.  Instead they have been so gracious and welcoming.  

On this walk around town with the girls we ran into one of our neighbors, another man we know from the snack bar on Fornillo beach, and last but not least Anotonello.  He is the farmer we met while hiking up to Montepertuso about a month ago!   He told us they will be harvesting the olives this Saturday and invited us to come join him.  I'm very excited for that.  Luckily, all that Samantha said was "Ciao"!

The Pistrice - A symbol of Positano.  The fish at the top representing the sea
and the wolf at the bottom representing the mountains.

A sunny day in November

What was earlier the spot for street vendors, now is a quiet walkway.

The church of Santa Maria Assunto

"Turkish Towers" once used for fending off pirates.  Now they appear to be residences.

An empty Fornillo beach.

The Traveling Pumpkin

It was late on Halloween night and we were trying to get the girls to go to bed.  I heard a sister fight brewing in the bathroom while they were brushing their teeth.  I thought I'd try distraction to get out of this one, so leaving the bathroom I pointed out to Ella the glowing pumpkin staring down the hall at us.  I said to her, "That's strange.  I wonder how the pumpkin got there."   The distraction worked because unknown to me Steve had just told Ella about a Halloween a few years ago when a couple of small pumpkins went missing from our porch.  Her curiosity was peaked by the idea of a pumpkin being in a new spot without someone putting it there.  Success!!  The sister fight was over and now while they got their PJs on we were talking about the missing pumpkins from the porch.  All was OK.  Steve was in the living room and heard the conversation which gave him an idea.  He very quietly slid the jack-o-lantern down the hallway up to the girl's room and turned it so its glowing face was just peaking in.  Well, it did not get the reaction he expected.  When Ella saw it she let out a scream and literally jumped into my arms.  They were a wreck.  It took some minutes to convince them that Dad had moved the pumpkin and it wasn't coming to get them.  Later Steve said he just couldn't imagine that they would actually believe it.  In their defense though, if your world still includes the wonder of things such as the tooth fairy and mermaids why would it not on the flip-side include the possibility of a menacing jack-o-lantern that is able to move down hallways.  Samantha commented afterwards, "I didn't know how it could move.  I mean, it doesn't have feet or toes or anything".  After they went to bed, Steve and I joked about moving it into the center of their room.  Of course, that would have made us the cruelest parents in the world.  Also, we would have been sleeping four to a bed after that.

We left the traveling pumpkin at home today and went to hike the "Valley of the Mills".  It is a beautiful stretch from the mountains down through a valley that leads to the town of Amalfi.  There are ancient paper mills along this trail and also the ruins of a 13th century iron works shop.  All of this is mixed in with the natural beauty of the canyon with its waterfalls and lush, green, landscape.  

To get there we first took a boat from Positano to Amalfi.  Then we took a bus up from Amalfi to the beautiful, quiet town of Scala.  There were a few missteps getting there.  First, the bus.  It was very late and by the time it arrived there was a huge crowd waiting to get on.  Somehow, we ended up being the last ones to board.  We considered waiting for the next one, but we had already waited for 40 minutes and then Steve pointed out it was the last one of the day up to the town we were headed for.  So we stuffed ourselves in.  Ella said to me, "This is even worse than that other bus ride."  She was right.  I was stuck down in the door well and at the first stop the door opened up and ended up pinning my foot.  I couldn't pull it out and I was starting to feel some real pressure.  A woman nearby, yelled "Attenzione!  Attenzione!" to the bus driver to try and get him to close the doors.  Steve and another man nearby were trying to pry my foot out.  The door released and my foot was saved by my big, clunky sneaker.  I was thankful I didn't have sandals on.  We were back moving at that point, swinging around the curves up the mountain.  Samantha was now happily sitting on the lap of the woman that called to the bus driver for me.  

Our other missteps involved getting off at the wrong town.  We should have gotten off at Pontone but instead got off at Scala.  We had to take a staircase down to Pontone.  When I use the word staircase, I think it really requires a new definition here.  This was a very long staircase.  Once we found the correct town we then started making our way down the wrong path.  We were happily going down when we came across some other American hikers.  They described this path they had just walked up with beautiful waterfalls and ruins from medieval times.  It sounded a lot like the path we thought we were on!  "Oh no", they told us "That trail starts on the other side of Pontone".  This meant backtracking up the stairs.  You can imagine how well this went over with the girls.  After some bribery, we headed back up and finally found the path.  In Pontone, it is refered to as "Valle de Ferrieri" (Valley of Ironworks).  That little nugget of information would have been a big help if we had it earlier.  In the end, the trail was all that we had imagined.  It was worth all that effort.

When we returned, I actually found myself checking to see if the pumpkin was in the exact same location as when we left it.  These kids had to pickup "crazy" from one of us.  I didn't detect any movement.

On the boat leaving Positano.

One of the views from the boat ride.  Ella wanted to know if this was Hogwarts!

The view of Amalfi when coming into port.

The streets of Amalfi

Gelato before the hike!

The Cathedral of Amalfi

View from the beautiful, quiet town of Scala

Another view from Scala before we found out we were in the wrong town!

Starting on the "staircase" down from Scala

Beautiful views from the "wrong path"

The town of Amalfi from up on the cliffs.

The starting point for the hike!

Ruins of a 13th century ironworks shop

Start of the trail.  My phone battery died soon after, so no pictures of the falls.