Prego

Fresco from the wall of the Sforza palace, Milan

We went to Italy for the Easter break. Three days off plus three vacation days plus two weekends equals ten days off in a row. We flew to Milan Friday night (April 3) and flew home nine days later.

We rented a car. First we drove to Como, an hour north of Milan, where the Alps begin.


Lake Como

We did a boat ride, went up a ‘funicular’ railway, and dipped into Switzerland a bit. I thought Bellagio would be a big estate (from having seen the Vegas casino of that name) but it’s just another rich little town hugging the lake shore. This area probably had humble origins, but for the past century or so it’s been the playground of the rich. We were informed that George Clooney has a lakefront house. How’s that for class!

Next we drove several hours south to the area known as Cinque Terre. I’d heard travel impresario Rick Steves raving about this locality on the radio for years and I’d kind of pictured it as a series of umbrella-shaded patios stretching for miles along the coast. But it’s wilder and stranger than that.


Manarola, the village where we stayed in Cinque Terre

Five small villages hugging the coast. They’ve been there forever. The villagers fished and grew grapes and olives on the steep terraced hillsides. Then 100 years ago they blasted a train in, mostly through tunnels.

(The Italians are like moles. They tunnel for fun. On one stretch of freeway between Pisa and Genoa we were in tunnels much more often than we were out.)

You can walk between the villages—some of the walks are flat and easy, others are up-and-down and challenging. Our first opportunity to lace up real hiking shoes in Europe. But you can always take the train home when you get tired. We had our best meals in Cinque Terre too—very fresh seafood. In one place they left a platter of life lobsters on the next table over while we ate. I’m not sure who was entertaining who.

We made a quick trip down to Pisa after we left Cinque Terre. See if you can guess what this is a picture of.


Ici n'est pas un tour

Then we stayed two nights in a town named Rapallo, near Genoa. We walked around the harbor to visit the old castle of Rapallo, only to discover there was an art exhibit going on. We walked in and were treated like invited guests. I’m not sure if this was an error or just extravagant hospitality. We were even presented with little gifts on the way out, which turned out to be little individually wrapped fruit tarts.


Loot from the castle in Rapallo

We drove into Genoa one day and walked all around.


San Lorenzo in Genoa

We got caught in a mighty traffic jam trying to get out of Genoa. At one point we moved about a mile in the course of an hour. Motorbikes by the hundreds swarmed past us the whole time.

We wound up back in Milan for the last two days. First thing we did was get rid of the car. I can’t recommend driving in Italy: careening traffic, diesel fumes, and twisty narrow roads. Jonetta would want me to say that she doesn’t mind driving in Italy one bit.

In Milan we walked, shopped a bit, and continued to eat. Food was hit-or-miss: we had some great meals, and some mediocre ones.

Jonetta had printed an article from the NYTimes that described how you can get a free meal at some bars by ordering a drink and then feasting on the hors d’oevres. So one night we did just that, with reasonable success.


The Sforza palace in Milan

The last day we took a three-hour tour in order to get tickets to see ‘The Last Supper.’ Definitely worth the trouble. The setting is almost as impressive as the picture—a long empty room (originally a refectory, or eating room) with nothing in it except the Da Vinci at one end, and another fresco that was painted around the same time at the other end. Only 25 people are allowed in at a time, to control the humidity.

I think the guide said that the two painters were working at the same time. Except that Da Vinci took two or three years on his fresco, while the other painter took just a few weeks. Frescoes, which are painted on freshly plastered walls, had to be painted quickly, so the paint could be properly absorbed into the drying wall. Da Vinci tried a new technique so that he would have more time to paint. The result was a disaster, and today the other fresco is in nearly perfect condition while Da Vinci’s is just a ghost of what it once was. Nice work, genius!


Jonetta in Milan


Louis in Genoa

Store træer og gamle træer

Many of you have been pleading, “More tree pictures, Bob!” I cannot refuse.

The forest between home and work is a beech/oak forest. The beeches are smooth-barked and grow to a good size—trunks up to five feet in diameter, I’d say. The oaks have thick grooved barks. In winter they have a sinister, witchy appearance with gnarled black branches thrusting out in all directions.

Working from north to south, here are some of my favorites:

Not sure what the story is here. Looks like it belongs in a sculpture garden. Nice big “tree ear” fungus on lower left. (Double-click for larger image.)

An oak. Notice how the branches corkscrew.

I wasn’t able to get a picture to show it, but this grove is roughly circular, with a bare patch in the center. I think of it as the druid grove. Not sure what kind of tree they are—too smooth-barked to be oaks; too gnarled to be beeches. Must be a nice little hide-out once the foliage is out.

This is an 800-year old oak—according to the accompanying text (below), about as old as Copenhagen. It stands alongside the coast road, so just imagine all the carts, carriages, etc., that have driven by over the centuries. It’s hollow and has served as temporary housing from time to time.

Signage for 800-year-old oak.