August 2004

August 31, 2004

And we're back...I was very surprised that at no point in our 135km trip down the French River was I able to connect to the Internet...no wireless or anything!

The trip was absolutely fantastic; eight days, six people and three canoes. We went through some stunning countryside that, more than anything else that I've yet seen, made me feel very lucky to be a Canadian. I'll be putting up some pictures very soon, but only when my laptop and our digital camera are in the same city, which they currently are not.

And that's just a part of the whole 'homeless' gig that we are now a part of. It's very strange to do the repatriation thing...completely different from what it was like to switch countries in the opposite direction. Going to Japan, Laura and I had jobs and a place to live all lined up before making the plunge and moving to a country on the opposite side of the globe. Somehow, coming back home, it was easy to overlook the fact that despite the fact that this is Canada, it was still a whole other country and would thus be fairly difficult to show up in without jobs or a home. The adjustment- so far - has been far from easy.

It's funny how the stages have gone. When getting ready to leave for Japan, the whole idea of exiting the country overshadowed everything else, despite the fact that there was also an imminent wedding and backpacking trip. When we got back, the wedding took centre stage and in the rush to prepare, we didn't have any time to plan our trip. Next thing we knew, we were married and on a plane for Italy. After that came three months of travel, planned on the fly, which prevented us from even beginning to think about what life would be like when we finally got home. When we did finally get home, whaddya know?! we had a canoe trip to prepare for in just three days...

Well, we got back from the canoe trip on Sunday night, all in one piece, but now - at long last - it has sunk in just what we have done; we left Japan and moved countries! Aaagh! A bit of a delayed realization, I know...but better late than never.

August 20, 2004

We're just in the last phases of getting everything packed up for the canoe trip. It has, predictably, taken up most of our time since we've been back, and as a result it looks like it will be a while before I can get anything else up on the website.

Our route for the trip is actually pretty exciting; roughly 130km of wilderness along the French River, so called because it was the original route taken by the French fur traders before there was a Canada. After looking over the maps yesterday, I have to say that it looks like it will be a pretty stunning stretch of river through some of Canada's more remote landscapes. I can't wait!

We're leaving tomorrow and will be coming back the following Sunday, so hopefully we'll be able to catch up with people then!

August 18, 2004

Well...we're back!

We arrived back on blessed Canadian soil just last night, and this is our first happy morning back in the Great White North.

Our last days in Rome were spent wandering around the city, trying to wrap our heads around the fact that before long we'd be on a plane bound for Canada.

In the process of wandering, though, Rome slowly revealed more of the many layers that make it such a fascinating city, and the night before we left we did a final walk through some of the old city.

What we ended up seeing was an incredibly creative use of lighting throughout the old quarter, where spotlights illuminated monuments and ruins while leaving the rest in shadow, highlighting parts of the city and their connections that you otherwise might not catch in daylight...a very interesting approach.

Well, for now, I should be off. Being back brings with it lots more to do, and for now, I should probably be helping Laura as we pack for our canoe trip which is in just a few days....apparently through more than 100 kilometers of wilderness. Oh boy!

I'll be putting up a Rome page soon...I hope.

August 13, 2004

Despite our plans to fit in a day of rest this week among all of the days of relentless sightseeing, Laura and I got up at 6:30 this morning and went to see the Vatican Museum. As the guy who made our cappuccinos this morning asked; "You're on vacation? Why aren't you sleeping?"

And as we headed through the city this morning, I was beginning to think that maybe we had overreacted a little, and that trying to get there before the museum opened was perhaps a little extreme...I mean, how bad could the lineups really be?

When we arrived at 7:30 - an hour and a quarter before the museum opens - there were already over a hundred people in line ahead of us. It sounds like a lot, and, well, it is a lot, but for a museum with over 9km of exhibition space, it's a drop in the bucket. But there was a second line forming in the other direction that was already at least quadruple the length of our line. And people kept coming. From then on, it was a steady flow, until we could no longer see the back of the line. The man in front of us said he and his wife had tried to come the day before at nine o'clock, but couldn't get in because the queue extended all the way back to the Piazza St. Pietro...which is ten blocks away.

Needless to say, I was happy that we got up early. Of course, we weren't exactly alone when we finally walked into the awe-inspiring Sistine Chapel, but then it's hard to notice the crowds when your head is jerked back and your neck is making a perfect right angle. They actually have a sign telling you not to lie down on the floor.

I do need to say this; I am very glad that we saved Rome for last. The Sistine Chapel is absolutely spectacular, St. Peter's really is the biggest and the Roman Forum puts all the other Roman ruins to shame. The Vatican museum, where beyond seeing the obvious as well as Raphael's masterpieces, was so good and I was so happy to finally see the original Laocoon Group that I didn't even mind being punched in the kidney by that Chinese tourist.

But I'm also happy to have checked off the last of our major 'must-see' destinations, as the crowds do begin to do your head in. Laura and I can now relax, let our feet recuperate from the pounding they have taken from all the walking, and enjoy our last few days in Italy...

August 11, 2004

Rome continues to amaze. Once again, you would think that after hearing so much about a place like the Colloseum that it would be difficult to be impressed, but here I am, blown away. Though we haven't even finished touring around this city, I have to say that there's no use in me doing more of a post about it here, as only a full page will do. This is certainly the most photos that I have taken in a long time.

That being said, I should also mention that we paid a visit to the Roman Forum today as well, and together with the Colloseum I feel that I am far closer to having some understanding of what the Romans were all about. This is truly one of the most fascinating cities on Earth.

August 10, 2004

My question is this; are we about to become ex-ex-pats, or re-pats?

Tonight Laura and I celebrated a very special occasion...it is now one week today that we will be flying back to Canada and to once again become residents of Ontario. This is a big deal. After almost two and a half years of being away from home, it has all come down to this.

To celebrate, we went to the Hard Rock Cafe here in Rome. Some might wonder why we would do such a thing, but the reasons are simple:
a.) after travelling all through Italy, the Italian food in Rome seems more fit for tourists, with many signs lamely proclaiming to have "Real Italian Food"
b.) after being abroad for so long, we saw the music, food and atmosphere as being a perfect adjustment period.

It was strange sitting in there. We knew all the music that came on, and actually liked it...and it was in English. The food was familiar. They had margaritas. We didn't have to worry about matching our wine with our secondi piatti's. The list goes on.

Of course, there were some strange things, but that's all part of the cultural adjustment. As the signs in front of the restaurant proclaim, they have HUGE serving sizes, just like back in the States. Contrary to what I had expected before coming to Italy, the servings here are quite small, so seeing the 'real deal' again was a bit of a shock. I am slightly embarrassed to admit that tonight was the first night ever that Laura and I split and appetizer and a meal...and I could barely finish.

So one week to re-patriation (or ex-ex-patriation)! Next Tuesday we'll be on a plane back to Canada...pasta maker in hand and eyes full of hope.

All thoughts of home aside, today was our first full day in Rome. At first we had to do boring things, like track down the closest cappuccino bar, find where to buy cheap water and where to hook up to the internet, but after siesta we decided to see some of the sights.

There is something very odd about finally seeing a thing or a place that you have wanted to see for such a long time. Rome is filled with things that I have dreamed of seeing for a very long time, and now that we are here, I have found myself almost avoiding the sights for fear that the circumstances might not be perfect, or that in seeing them I will somehow destroy the perfect vision that I have created for myself. Especially after seeing so many incredible things in our travels, you begin to fear that you are incapable of being amazed, and are thus in an inappropriate frame of mind to view the amazing.

So yesterday, as I realized that we were nearing the Pantheon and Trevi fountain, I suggested that we take a different route to bypass them.

The Pantheon. I have had quite a vision of the place in my head for a long time, and my feelings were bordering on nervous as we approached it today. On the way there, we actually stumbled across the ruins of another Roman temple, and I tried hard to supress my disappointment as we scrambled with the map to see if that was really it. I think we all know those moments; you think that it can't possibly be it, but then it could be...the last thing you want to do is vocalize your feelings for fear that if it is, say, the Pantheon, then you don't want to ruin it by saying that it's just a bunch of columns teetering in front of a modern building.

Impressive and ancient as the columns were, I was relieved to find out that it wasn't the Pantheon...my dreams were safe, at least for the moment.

It wasn't until we stepped into the Piazza della Rotunda that we found ourselves face to face with the unmistakable real thing. I felt like I'd been punched, and stopped dead in my tracks. Wow.

I felt a flood of emotion, one of those great moments when reality beats expectation over the head with a stick and calls it names. Here was the Pantheon, in all its glory, looking almost as impressive as it was when it was put up 2200 years ago. No imagination required. It hadn't been blasted to pieces by Turks, nor had it been partially reconstructed by creative archeologists...the thing still stands.

Just before that, we had been to the Trevi fountain; another item very high on my list. But I had been worried there, too. I mean, how much build-up can you have for a fountain without it becoming a massive let down? But somehow, both Laura and I were utterly amazed...it really is stunning.

I'm not quite sure how long Rome can go on amazing us so much, but it seems there's no end in sight (except for our flight). The richness of the long and layered history and the grand monuments which attest to the grand vision of the generations that have called this place home seem to have created a city that defies all expectations and pushes the boundaries of what one would think people are capable of creating.

I can't wait for tommorrow!

August 9, 2004

Today we arrived in Rome, the very last city on our long escapade. I guess both Laura and I were both a little excited to come here, as this morning after showering, packing everything up, checking out of our hotel, finding a place to eat breakfast and finally reaching the bus stop to take us to the train station, we realized that it was still only 9:30. We hadn't even looked at a clock until that point, and we were a little surprised at our own eagerness.

Now that we are in Rome, life will take on a slightly different pace. Through all of the little towns in Umbria and Tuscany, the rhythm of life is set by the bells in the churches and old clock towers, which chime away to mark the time every fifteen minutes, or at least every hour. There is usually a flourish of bells to tell you when to wake up, when it's time for lunch, when to finish siesta and when it's a reasonable time for bed. It doesn't take long before you find yourself listening for the bells, and forgetting to wear your watch, falling naturally into the Italian time that the towns run by.

Each town has a slightly different pace, which you unconsciously get to know. You can tell that some towns wake up later than others, or that some care less about punctuality than the last place across the valley, as in some places the bells fall 'roughly' around the time they indicate. In Assisi there was a last bell and a first bell. In other towns - like Orvietto - the bells ran all night, and you could tell that people generally got up earlier for church on Sunday than they did for work on Monday.

But sometimes the bells can be a little confusing. Sometimes Laura would ask me "What bell was that?" I'd look at my watch and it would be 10:21. The bells sounded like churchbells, and it was Sunday, but the church service at the nearest church started at 10:00. Competition from another church? Who knows?

Orvietto had one such mystery that we didn't solve until this morning. The clock tower near our hotel was pretty accurate (as I can attest, having been up it when it went off), but we would also hear another set of bells from elsewhere in the city thart seemed to be going off at completely random times. We could never quite figure it out.

So as we sat at the bus station this morning, Laura turned to me and asked, "Wow, so what time is it, anyway?" I looked at my watch for the first time that morning, and saw that it was 9:35. We were both surprised at how early we'd gotten everything together, and Laura didn't believe me that it was so early. So Laura squinted at the clock across the piazza, and found a time that was more in line with what she had thought: "See, I told you, it's ten o'clock."

I looked at my watch again, but despite my many shortcomings, I had read the time correctly. The clock across the piazza was a little more difficult to read - as it only had an hour hand - but it did seem to be showing that it was ten. Just then the bells started ringing in the tower, the sound reverberating through the great courtyard and echoing through the whole town...ten bells.

I was a little mystified as to how my watch had suddenly lost so much time, so I fished another clock out of my pack. That's when we figured out the mystery of the bells; my watch was fine, but in Orvietto their main clock tower is wrong. By twenty-five minutes. Seeing as everyone runs their lives off of those things, and businesses open and shut using the bells as the commonly agreed time, you would think someone would have noticed...but then maybe that's an elaborate way of setting the company's 'punch-clock' fast so you can go home early!

Now as I said, we came to Rome today, and in fact, we have only been here a couple of hours. Yet already, I have exciting news. Please make sure you're sitting down for this...

Laura and I have already found - and bought - a pasta maker. I know, I know; I'm excited too! And for those eager people who are wondering (and I'm sure that's everyone), it does actually cut the pasta in seven different ways. Seven! And it has a Ravioli attachment! It's all I can do to restrain myself from buying a bag of flour and some eggs and trying it out right here in the hotel room!

Now in my last post, I spent so much wasted time complaining about politics that I forgot to mention something far more important than George W. Bush; our wine tour in Montepulciano. Just after writing the posting where I said we were off to see the wineries (and the wizard), the sky opened up and rain started coming down in torrents the likes of which you rarely see. Not really a good day for a stroll through the vines.

But the show went on. We visited two separate wineries; one larger one that produces about 600,000 bottles a year and a smaller one right in the heart of Montepulciano. The first one was interesting - as I've never toured a winemaking facility of that scale - but the second place was incredible.

While we had been slated to walk right down into their fields, the rain made that impossible, forcing us to move inside, instead. As much as we had been looking forward to the tour, what we got in its place was a wine seminar that lasted more than an hour, as we sipped on some of their wines and learned about the finer points of their production. Laura and I both walked out of there more fascinated and in love with wine than we were before. After doing several tours throughout Tuscany, too, we are really starting to understand the wines there quite well.

But not as well as some people we've met. Last night before dinner, I went to the shop to get a bit of wine for an apperatif. I didn't see too many I knew, but I was pleased to be able to choose based at least on the production area. I found a nice bottle from a place we went with my parents early in the trip, which is well known for its wine. I felt a little proud of myself for having been able to make a bit of an informed choice. But then I met 'The Man'.

As I was walking back to the hotel with the bottle in hand an older man sitting on a bench in front of his restaurant flagged me down and bade me come over to him. As I had just refused a bag from the store, I thought that perhaps I had broken some unwritten local rule about carrying alcohol around, and that I was about to be upbraided for being so boorish as to be sauntering about with a bottle of wine in my hand. After all, the man had a bit of a concentrated look on his face, and he wasn't so much gesturing at me as he was at the bottle.

I reluctantly walked over to where he was seated, when he immediately took the bottle from my hand. I imagine that I closed my eyes, waiting for the bottle to be broken over my head, but when I looked at him again, he was intently studying the bottle. "Hmmm...Fontestrozzi...buono..." he was mumbling to himself.

And then he began explaining the finer points of the wine to me, much of which I couldn't understand. Before returning the bottle and seeing me off, however, he made sure that I understood that I had chosen a very nice bottle, but that it had a rather complex nature that was best left to mellow. He looked at me earnestly as he advised me two open it at least two hours before drinking it, and once he saw that I understood, he bid me good-bye.

Now that's a guy who likes his wine.

August 7, 2004

Yesterday we left Tuscany behind us, coming here to Orvietto, our penultimate stop in Italy. Orvietto has been a bit of a surprise, as it is unexpectedly filled with so many things to see and do.

The gothic church for which the town is known is spectacular, but more than that, Orvietto offers an interesting look into the history of the Etruscan people who were prominent in this region before the Romans came and ruined their fun. Orvietto actually held off the Romans for two years in an epic siege before the town was sold out by the aristocracy and the Roman army was let in by the back gate to slaughter the inhabitants.

The reason they held out so well and for so long is still evident today; the city lies on a rather large plateau atop a mound of volcanic rock, with sheer walls on every side. It's really quite amazing, as the geography of the area creates a massive natural fortress that is accessible only through one small, easily defendable gate.

It also makes for a fairly dramatic landscape. Today we started our day by climbing to the top of a clocktower at the town's centre to get a view of the area. The view is quite unique, as you might imagine from a tall tower on a high plateau. The cluster of medieval rooftops suddenly stop at the edge of the plateau, where the natural progression of perspective is interupted by the extreme distance of the Umbrian landscape below, creating a surreal parralax which gives the illusion of an almost superimposed town floating above the valley.

It wasn't until we had been up the tower for about fifteen minutes that we were reminded - rather painfully - that the tower we were in was, in fact, a clock tower. As with most clock towers in Italy, the time is told more with the bells than with the clocks themselves. As it was ten o'clock, we had a fairly substantial sampling of what bells sound like when they are only an arm's length from your head.

Now I'm sorry to digress a little and bring up politics, but can someone please tell me what is going on in the United States? I had the misfortune of picking up some newspapers, and I have to say that I'm quite saddened by what I'm reading, which is only reinforced by everyone that we meet here.

You see, most of our conversations with people in Greece, Italy and France have begun with people approaching Laura and I and asking, "Excuse me, are you American?" After filling them in on our nationality, their expressions usually turn to one of relief before they launch into a tirade against George Bush.

With the news of the recent terror alerts in the States, it has been very telling to hear the reactions people have about the timing. The French paper "Le Monde" ran a headline accusing Bush of using the announcement to steal the Democrat thunder after the convention, and similar views seem to be fairly widely expressed.

My point overall is that it seems sad that a country as great as the United States is a.) headed by a man so hated internationally, even among U.S. allies, and is b.) in such such a state of uncertainty as to whether or not their leaders are lying about such serious matters as public safety.

None of this is an accusation, as with all of our travelling I find myself fairly ignorant of current events. What you do get out of travelling, however, is a sort of ambient awareness of issues, or the opinions and reflections of other people and cultures on what's happening. The fact of the matter is that you need a pretty thick skin to be an American and to be travelling right now, as people at present seem to be very hostile to America in general and George Bush in specific.

For my two cents, it would seem that if America wanted to improve security and fight Al Qaeda, they might want to start by getting rid of a person who is a magnet for international hatred and who is probably as much a poster-boy for terrorist recruitment as Osama bin Laden...but then, like I said, I'm not really up on the issues.

Anyways, I'm sorry for the slight digression there, but it's terrible to read about things like that when you're on the road, especially when your next stop is New York.

August 5, 2004

I have now seen Pope Pius II's vision of the perfect town, and I have to say, it really was pretty darn nice. Perhaps Pienza is not quite a utopia, but surrounded as it is by stunning countryside, with city walls actually designed to afford a view of what lies below, there certainly is far more of a feeling that the place was the result of some consideration before building started.

Also of interest is the fact that, contrary to what we had thought, Pienza is not across the valley from Montepulciano. Had we indeed made the death march through the lovely Tuscan countryside to reach the little hilltop town on the other side, we would have definitely been more than a little vexed to find ourselves in a completely different place than we had anticipated. So there it is; buses are good.

This afternoon, Laura and I are going to go on a wine tour of several of the Montepulciano wineries. We have already researched the local goods through consumption, so now all that remains is to explore the production side of things.

Tommorrow we are heading off to Orvietto, and with that we will be bidding good-bye to Tuscany. This really is a difficult place to walk away from; the food, the wine, the culture, the scenery all make for a place that is like no other on the planet. We are taking some consolation, however, that Orvietto is rather well renowned for its particular brand of white wine, so all is not lost.

And then it will be Rome! We've already started planning the assault on the capital, as it will require considerably more intricate planning than we've had so far. The lines for all of the 'attractions' are bordering on legendary, and there are so many that I feel can't be missed. Not to mention the fact that while we're there we need to procure a pasta machine and all the attachments as well as an authoritative book on pasta.

And I still find it difficult to process the idea that in twelve days, we'll be on a plane. We checked our tickets, and we even have seat numbers...it all feels so imminent.

August 2, 2004

Wow...and all of a sudden August rolled around. I think there was a time when Laura and I were beginning to doubt the existence of August, and yet here it is. As of tommorrow, there will be exactly two more weeks before we get on a plane and head back to Canada. It's hard to believe.

We are still in Montepulciano, and have decided to stay here for another few days. We were planning on pushing on to Pienza tommorrow, but came to the conclusion that it would perhaps be better done as a day trip.

You see, sometimes stereotyped images of places are actually true. We imagined Pienza as a kind of sleepy hilltop town, and in fact, the place is so sleepy that it's impossible to get a hold of anyone there. As the town has less than 2000 people, we thought it would be wise to have accommodation squared away before making the trek, but getting someone on the line at the tourist office has been next to impossible...the siesta time there tends to eat up almost the entire day. What made it more than a little frustrating is that you can actually see the place from our current hotel room. This even prompted the thought that maybe we should just walk over there to make a reservation.

But that's the flipside of our mental images of places; they are also sometimes not so true. You see, yesterday was another gorgeous summer day here in Montepulciano. The sun was shining down on the broad valley with its fields of olive trees and its vinyards, and Laura and I decided early on that there could be no better way to spend the afternoon than to find a nice peaceful place to spread out a blanket and split a bottle of wine while taking in the view. How nice. How romantic. And really, when you conjure up your image of this place, wouldn't you also say; how Tuscan?

So we put our books in a knapsack and began strolling through town looking for a nice spot. Along the way we stopped at a shop that sold some locally produced wine where we were plied with all kinds of food and drinks from their farm...so far, so good. But still we hadn't seen a good place to sit yet. Montepulciano is a hilltop town, hemmed on all sides by an ancient defensive wall. The result is that most of the space within the walls is built up, and there isn't much greenspace on the narrow streets which are cut between the medieval stone buildings on either side.

And so we kept walking. The sun - that Tuscan sun you hear so much about - was high above us, and contrary to what the romantics might tell you, was also quite hot. But we marched on, now trying to skirt the edge of the town where they may have a bit of green space tucked away.

And that's where another bit of the romantic image was chipped away. I mean, hilltop towns sound very lovely, but there's a reason so many people build in valleys; hills can be very steep. So after about an hour trudging down fairly precipitous slopes, we found ourselves outside the town walls, and still with nowhere to sit. I was beginning to think that perhaps most Tuscans have very nice living rooms.

But there was one illusion left to tackle...the glorious Tuscan countryside. After all, we have been looking at it out our window for the past few days, and it is unbelievably beautiful. "Wouldn't it be nice," we said, "if we could find some pleasant little tree down here in this lovely valley where we could sit in the shade and enjoy our wine?"

I mean really, the Tuscan countryside, that image of cozy farmhouses and pleasant dusty paths lined with olive trees, must be the perfect place for these noble peasants to stroll along, greeting their fellows as they carry their goods to market or take an evening constitutional. How lovely! And there we'll be, right down there with them! And after all, we were thinking of walking to Pienza, so this would be a great preview.

And so we descended another exceptional incline to bring us down to the small road that winds between the fields and through the valley. A small car passed by on the road, and our first clue as to our misconceptions should have been the brief look of incredulity and indecision on the face of the old man who was driving. It was as if he was thinking, "My goodness, what are they doing out here! Should I stop? Surely they will perish if I don't!" But after some inner struggle, the car carried on, and so did we.

We began to walk along the road, looking here and there for a nice shady spot. The sun was now really beating down on us, and there wasn't a single person to be seen, except those who sped by in cars. There was no one tilling the fields; no one sitting on an old, creaking chair in front of their farmhouse; no one taking their goods to market; and most certainly, no one taking a constitutional. I was beginning to think that probably, if you asked a Tuscan, they would say that only an idiot would set out across the countryside in that heat.

But we pushed on. And I began to realize a fundamental difference between Tuscany and Ontario. You see, when you have a relatively small, fertile area that is boxed in on one side by mountains, and on the other side by the sea, and a population of people that have been farming it for several thousand years, the result tends to be a place that has most of the available space spoken for, and more importantly, probably doesn't have a single bloody square inch to lay out a blanket.

It was somewhere in our wanderings that a rather noisy pickup truck went by us. The truck was noisy because in the back there was a wooden box with about ten angry dogs which seemed to be enjoying the blazing sun about as much as we were. As the truck disappeared around the bend taking the howling of the dogs with it, we wondered what on earth the people were doing, and I thought how vicious those dogs were likely to become after such cruel treatment.

After walking for some time we started to hear some barking in the distance. The closer we got, however, the more we were able to discern that there were not one, or two, but many dogs. A little closer still, and it sounded like there were, perhaps, scores of dogs just ahead...and they all sounded crazed. We very quickly realized that this was where the truck had gone. I quickly reconsidered how badly I wanted to find a shady place to spread my blanket among the noble peasants.

"I think I'm done." I said to Laura.
"Me too." she said, and we did an immediate about-face and hurriedly put some distance between ourselves and the plague of dogs behind us.

Tommorrow, we're taking a bus to Pienza. And now we know; the Tuscan countryside is for cars and hilltop views...they can bring the wine up here to us!