Three quickies

You Are a Freedom Rocker!
   You're stuck in the 70s - for better or worse
Crazy hair, pot soaked clothes, and tons of groupies
Your kind showed the world how to rock
Is that freedom rock?... Well turn it up man!

What Kind of Rocker Are You?


Your Brain's Pattern
   You have a tempered, reasonable way of thinking.You tend to take every new idea in, and meld it with your world view.For you, everything is always changing. Each moment is different.Your thinking process tends to be very natural - with no beginnings or endings.

What Pattern Is Your Brain?


You are an Atheist
When it comes to religion, you're a non-believer (simple as that).
You prefer to think about what's known and proven.
You don't need religion to solve life's problems.
Instead, you tend to work things out with logic and philosophy.

What's Your Religious Philosophy?




Ah...anyone have a cigarette?

When they say UP country...

Saturday, September 17, 2005

Granite con Brioche (Gra-nee-ta con Bree-osh)
   Granite is a frozen confection made with lemon juice and sugar. We might call it a lemon ice, however no lemon ice you've ever tasted approaches Granite for pure yumminess. The Brioche is a light, sweet, egg bread roll that you eat with the Granite. By themselves, each is delicious. Together they are a taste sensation that is beyond description. Really, you've seen all the pictures of the Eiffel Tower already anyway. Did mention that was breakfast?

   Today we went to the countryside, a campagna (cam-pan-ya), to visit the farm, il cuzza, owned by my wife's family. I thought the narrow winding road up to the village was precarious. At least it was paved. The glorified cart path leading up the mountain to where my wife's great grandfather first farmed the land was twice as steep, and a third as wide. And I had to drive it.
   Ciccio's Mitsubishi truck would never be able to negotiate the narrow switchbacks, and his other truck, a Suzuki Sidekick, had the rear seat folded up in order to make room for all the good stuff we would be bringing back down. Besides, Matthew wanted a ride in the Ape.


Matthew, Pat's Zio (uncle) Mario, and several cats pose in front of the Ape.

   An Ape (ah-bay) is a hybrid of a three wheeled motorcycle, and a pick-up truck. It is the rural vehicle of choice in Sicily. Newer ones have car-like controls, but most of them have a set of motorcycle handlebars for driving.
   So Matthew and Pat squeezed into the Ape with Ciccio, while I followed in the 'jeep.' Ciccio's mother, Pat's Aunt Carmella, was my passenger, and the 80-odd year old bird was calmer than I was as we assayed the climb. It really was no problem at all, as long as I didn't look down over the edge of the road to the dry river bed five hundred feet below.


Looking down.

   The cuzza is a series of stone walled terraces extending up and down the mountain for hundreds of feet of elevation. The terraces are a mixture of fruit trees, grape vines, olive trees, fig trees, prickly pear cacti, and traditional garden plants like tomatoes, beans, and lettuce. We came back down the mountain with the truck filled to overflowing with prickly pears, peaches, plums, pears, lemons, grapes, tomatoes, and Sicilian zucchini. As well, we walked up the mountainside an additional several hundred feet or so, along a treacherous, winding path to fill every empty bottle we could scare up at the farm's natural spring. The most delicious water I have ever tasted.

   ~~A side note that will be of interest only to a select few...~~

   The toilets in Europe are, well, deeper than what we are used to in North America. The standing water level is also considerably lower. Given the somewhat, uh, amphitheater-like shape of said toilet bowls, this leads to some, shall we say, impressive acoustic phenomena during certain, uh, activities performed behind closed doors. I'm just sayin'.


What, are you mad? I didn't take any pictures of the toilet bowls, OK?

Bella Sicilia

Thursday, September 15, 2005

   We arrived in Sicily tonight, a 45 minute domestic flight from Rome, during which they managed to lose one of our suitcases. Pat is disappointed that it was Matthews's instead of hers. She would have loved an Italian fashion shopping spree courtesy of Air Alitalia. Matthew has only the clothes on his back, which he has already worn for two days. Tomorrow he gets an Italian fashion shopping spree.
   So we're late, which means it's dark as we turn off the Autostrada between Catania and Messina, following a sign that reads: Roccalumera, Pagliara, Mandanici. My wife's cousin, Francesco, is driving. Beside him sits her Uncle Mario. Pat, Matthew, and I are crammed into the back seat of Ciccio's Mitsubishi pick-up truck.
   Ciccio (pronounced Chee-cho), is called Ciccio Grande, because he is the eldest of four cousins, all first born sons named for their paternal grandfather, Francesco Ciatto. My father-in-law's eldest brother, Ciccio's father, is named Giovanni, as was his grandfather, and is his grandson, Ciccio's son. Confused yet? It just gets worse.
   The truck's headlights pick out details at the side of the road as we go by. Here, an old stone wall built to hold in some earth for a small garden plot. There, a cactus has grown out over the road like a hangman's tree. In some places the steep rock face is jacketed with wire fencing up a hundred feet or more in an attempt to prevent rockslides onto the road. Almost like being in an airplane during take-off, you can feel the air pressure changing on your ears as the truck rounds switchback after switchback.
   Mandanici (Man-da-nee-chee) is only about 6 miles from the ocean, but it is above 1300 feet in elevation. Ciccio's wife, Concetta (Con-chetta) runs a small store, una bottega piccolo, on the main street of town. A little bit further on is the Bar, which in Italy means breakfast cafeteria, ice cream parlour, coffee shop, lunch room, liquor store, pastry shop...oh, and bar. Beside the bar is a barbershop. A few doors down is the tobacconist, and that's about it for the main drag.

Friday, September 16, 2005


   They have us installed in a little two room apartment. No one will tell us who owns it, or if anyone was displaced to make room for us. Off the kitchen is a small balcony overlooking a small square, or piazza. The piazza fronts Il Duomo Mandanici, The Mandanici Cathedral, a beautiful, old church. Looking farther afield, the view between two other buildings is lush Sicilian mountainside. It's like a picture postcard depiction of the perfect, old world, European village. Except the horses and carts have all been replaced by cars and motor scooters.
   Well, not all. We have heard the distinctive clop, clop, clop of horses hooves go by once or twice. Yesterday morning we also heard the distinctive two tone drone of an emergency vehicle. Later we found out that the man with the horse had only just bought it that day, and that it had promptly kicked him in the head. We never did find out if he lived or died.
   I mentioned that we were right beside the church. Did I mention that the church bell rings out the time? Every quarter hour? All day, and all night?
   Did I mention that we're right beside the church?


   So, we had to go shopping for Matthew. Ciccio collected us in the morning, and we headed down the mountain. Daylight filled in many of the little flashes of detail we received the night before.
   The little stone walled garden plot is only the first of a series of terraced plots climbing the hillside. The cacti are all brimming with ripe fruit. Fico d'India they are called. We call them prickly pears.



   As Ciccio negotiated the winding road down the mountainside, and the narrow streets through the little towns along the way, the driver of every car we passed honked and waved. Every person standing by the street called out, "ciao, Ciccio!" Mandanici is a small town, as is Pagliara. Roccalumera is a little bit larger. But when someone on the freeway in the nearby city of Messina sticks their head out of their car window and yells, "ciao, Ciccio!" you know you are in the presence of a character.

A little late, but...

Your Summer Ride is a Beetle Convertible

Fun, funky, and a little bit euro.
You love your summers to be full of style and sun!

What's Your Summer Ride?

The fall of the Roman Empire

   Rome was overrun by Goths and Vandals in the fifth century C.E., and the tradition continues to this day in every major urban center.

No coins in the fountain

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

   This afternoon we took a bus tour of 'Ancient Rome.' I could tell you all the things we saw, but if you take a peek at any tourism guide of Rome you'll get the full list. A couple of observations:

1) Virtually every Roman building and monument still standing and useful has been co-opted by the Catholic church. Columns, colonnades, and obelisks throughout the city have been topped with Christian icons and statuary.

2) Anything still standing that approaches 2000 years old is made of marble. Even the Colosseum was originally, and primarily made of marble. And, it would still be standing to this day had the barbarians who sacked Rome in the middle ages not removed the iron (or brass, depending on who you talk to) pins that held the blocks in place.

   The Colosseum. Here you can see the holes bored into the Travertine marble by barbarians attempting to remove the metal pins or clamps in order to use them to make weapons. All of the remaining marble in the Colosseum is honeycombed with holes like this.
   An interesting factoid: this building's name is actually The Flavian Amphitheater. At one time there was a colossus, a huge statue, of the emporer Nero beside the amphitheater. In everyday usage, Romans referred to the building as the theater by the colossus, and it eventually became know as just The Colosseum. Click on the picture for a 1028x764 version you can use as a desktop wallpaper.

   We learned very quickly that if we just wanted to stop somewhere for a quick coffee and snack, that sitting down was the wrong thing to do. When we popped into any small coffee shop, or snack bar, we saw numerous Romans standing around, munching on pastries, or drinking coffees, with a whole room full of empty tables unregarded. Tourists, however, are immediately invited to sit down, and handed menus. In short order, we observed that if we sat down, we paid €1.25 for an espresso. If we stood at the counter, we paid €0.85.


Wednesday, September 14, 2005

   Today we walked. From 9:30 AM to 4:00 PM we wandered around centralRome. Many of the obligatory Roman sights were seen. A hint: Piazza Espagna, featuring the Spanish Steps? It's just a big stairway.
   The Pantheon is the best preserved piece of Roman architecture in the city. Originally a temple to honour the entire pantheon of Roman gods and goddesses (hence the name), it was converted to a Catholic church in the seventh century. I am somewhat ambivalent about the role of the Vatican in the history of Rome. On one hand, they have co-opted a huge portion of Roman history. On the other, if it wasn't for the church, a significant number of Roman historical sites would not exist today in the condition they currently enjoy.

   The best part of exploring Rome is going off the beaten path; getting yourself lost in the maze of little streets and alley ways where you glance in an open garage door to see an antique furniture restorer at work, or turn a corner to discover a little cafe tucked in between two warehouses. In just such a tangle of cobbled streets we came across Trevi Fountain.
   It was looking for Trevi Fountain that got us lost in the first place. We had seen The Mausoleum of Augustus, The Pantheon, Piazza Navona, and, according to the guide book, Trevi Fountain was on the way back to the hotel. The problem was none of the streets in that section of Rome run in anything resembling a straight line, so it is almost impossible to properly orient yourself looking at a map. We ended up walking up a steep hill (one of the seven hills of Rome as it turned out) and an even steeper set of stone stairs, and ended up at Piazza Quirinale.
   Now, Piazza Quirinale is nothing but a huge empty square, hemmed in on three sides by buildings with imposing, featureless edifices, with a confused combination of statuary tucked into one corner. Other than Palazzo Quirinale being the official residence of the President of the Italian Republic, there is little, or nothing to interest tourists here. In fact, when we found it, it was absolutely empty, with the exception of the guards at the entrance to the Palazzo. We headed back down the stairs,and the hill, and into the maze once more.
   Despairing of ever finding Trevi fountain, we decided to stop for gelato. If you have never tried authentic Italian ice cream before, put "eat gelato in Rome" on your list of seven things to do before you die. Bump the Eiffel Tower for it. It is that good. So it was with lemon, and creme caramel, and tiramisu flavoured gelato dripping down over fingers wrapped around cones thin like upside down church spires that we turned another corner, and there it was: the most crowded place in all of Rome.
   Trevi (so named because it is at the corner of three streets-tre vie) is an impressive work of sculpture, but one has to wonder if it would be such a popular attraction had it not been for its appearance in films like La Dolce Vita, and Three Coins in the Fountain. The stairs leading down to it were crammed with people trying to get to the fountain to take a picture of a friend or family member tossing a coin in, and then trying to get back up. Legend has it that a coin thrown into Trevi Fountain will guarantee one's eventual return to Rome. I would have tried it, but I was dissuaded by the crowds, and the fact that I didn't have anything smaller that a €1.00 coin in my pocket.


The crowds around Trevi Fountain


Matt at Trevi after dark.

Quizzes

   I had a whole bunch of these quiz thingies done and saved in my test journal. I figured I would have two or three opportunities to check in over the course of my vacation, either from an Internet cafe, or via a friend or family member's computer, and I could post a few quick entries, just to keep the journal active. No such luck. And so, I've got eight or nine of these things backlogged and taking up space. I'll throw them in here and there as I post about my vacation.



Morpheus

?? Which Of The Greek Gods Are You ??
brought to you by Quizilla

Pillows and bad posture

Monday, September 12, 2005
10:37 PM Toronto time

   When we boarded, they handed everyone a slim package containing a blanket, and something that could only have been called a pillow by someone in a marketing department somewhere. Sleeping on the plane is proving to be a difficult task. Pat got an hour and a half or so, and Matthew was finally persuaded to close his eyes shortly after ten. He is currently snoring contentedly on his mother's breast. 
   Speaking of when we boarded...

~~earlier today~~

   We had been told by the travel agent that we would be flying on a large plane, a 747, or a 777. Seating (we were told) was three at the window, four in the center, and three at the other window. Our travel agent pre-booked us what he called choice seats: three at the window that would be looking west (or so) on departure, and east (or so) on arrival. See the sunset and the sunrise on the same flight; it sure sounded good.
   When we checked our baggage, and received our boarding passes, my wife asked the attendant if our seats had been pre-booked. We were told they were not, and that no window seats were available. Initially, we were ticked, but when we actually boarded the plane the reason became apparent. This was a much smaller plane than we had expected. Window seats were only in pairs, with a bank of three seats down the center. My guess is, they undersold the flight, and so used a smaller plane than originally planned. C'est la vie.

10:46 PM Toronto time

   According to the airline magazine, our potential in-flight movies include Herbie:Fully Loaded, The Longest Yard, and Hitch-Hikers' Guide To The Galaxy. No such luck. We get a surreal British comedy called Millions, and some sub-titled Italian comedy about a young, prospective night club owner. Distinct yawn.

   Ah. Reading a little more closely, I see that H²G² is only available as the third film on flights from Italy to China. Looks like, on the flight home we have The Beauty Shop, and another Italian comedy to look forward to. Remind me to buy a good book at the airport gift shop.
   Speaking of good books, I started reading Dan Brown's Angels And Demons in the departure lounge. I'm on about page 12, and I have already rolled my eyes over at least two serious implausibilities, one scientific impossibility, and one just plain silly incongruity. So, I'll let you know if I find one; a good book, that is.

~later~~

   So, this pillow, um, thingie is propped behind my back trying to ameliorate some of the discomfort of what has to be the most poorly designed airplane seat I have ever experienced. It has this hump, right at the back of the chair part, that serves to cause one to slowly slide forward until one has assumed a slouching position bad enough to invite the most vitriolic of rants from one's mother, were one still a teenager.
   Not still a teenager - in fact, being several decades past teenagedness - this slouching position has served only to exasperate my normally mild general back and neck stiffness to the point where I expect to require assistance disembarking.
   I exaggerate.
   A bit.

11:40 PM Toronto time

   They have begun serving breakfast. I'll take that as my signal to set my watch ahead to Italian time. It is now 5:41 AM.

~~somewhat later~~

   It is 9:00 AM. You are in Rome, the eternal city. What do you do?
   You take a nap. At least, that's what you do if your personal clock says it is 3:00 AM, and you haven't slept since 5:00 AM the previous morning.



It took about 34 seconds for Matthew to find a friend in the airport departure lounge.

Vacations and dreams

   You may have noted the new name at the top of the journal. Tutt'a posto is an Italian term that translates literally as, "everything in its place," but is commonly used to mean, "everything is OK." I thought it would be fun to use it as the title of my journal for the next little while, as I recount my travels in Italy.
   Here goes.


September 12, 2005
5:30 PM Toronto time

   we are cruising at an altitude of 10,100m at approximately 900 km/h, one hour out of Pearson International Airport. Takeoff was relatively uneventful...except for that overhead compartment that repeatedly popped open as we taxied out from the terminal. One after another we (myself and the passengers around me) undid our safety belts and stood up to push it closed. It would remain that way for  a few moments, until a bump caused it to pop open again.
   At one point a flight attendant came out and closed it firmly, then spent about a minute and a half jostling it, trying to make it come open. Unable to do so, and apparently satisfied, she went back to her seat. Within thirty seconds it had popped open again. Finally, we just left it, and spent the takeoff warily eyeing the gradually shifting baggage within.

~~Dinner Interlude~~

6:55 PM Toronto time

   It is remarkable how quickly the sun sets when you are flying away from it at 900 km/h. According to the cool overhead display, we are crossing Newfoundland with a  beneficial tail-wind of over 40 km/h, and it is -46°C(!) outside the plane. We have traveled approximately 1780 km of the 7095 km distance from Toronto to Rome.

~~earlier today~~

   Waking up at 5:00 AM is only slightly less insane than doing so one hour earlier, but we felt it was important to get an early start to the day. We arrive in Rome at about 1:00 AM our time tomorrow, but that will be 7:00 in the morning local time. Sleeping on the plane is a concept we felt was important to embrace.

7:02 PM Toronto time

   Oh look! As we approach Gander, Newfoundland, the view on the overhead screen has changed to include the entire Atlantic ocean, and our destination: The Boot.
   Gander, Newfoundland was most recently famous for playing host to thousands of international travelers bound for American destinations when U.S. airspace was closed on September 11, 2001. Prior to that, Gander was famous for being flight control for every single commercial aircraft crossing the Atlantic north of the equator. Before that, Gander was famous for being named after a male goose.

~~earlier today~~

   The new Terminal One at Toronto's Pearson International Airport is a grand sight, incorporating art and functionality in a pleasing synthesis of towering glass and stainless steel. At the Alitalia check-in desk we divested ourselves of our luggage, and received in return boarding passes. And instructions. It seemed, according to the soft spoken lady with the almost incomprehensible Italian accent, that we were to walk down the concourse to the very end, turn left, go through airport security (where my wife, by the way, held up the entire line at the metal detector because she had forgotten to remove the coins from her concealed money belt, and had to practically strip to get them out-but that's another story), down the escalators two levels, and onto the bus. The bus? We were sure we had heard incorrectly...until we got to the bus.
   A short jaunt across the tarmac took us to the 'Infield Terminal,' a temporary facility being used until the new Terminal One is fully completed (<~~not a Tragically Hip reference).
   After boarding was complete, we were informed by the flight crew, in a long and rambling message in Italian, and then in English, that we were ready to go, but that the airport wasn't ready to let us go. It seems the tractor that pushes the plane out of the embarcation dock was missing the special bar which it needed to hitch itself to the nose of the plane. We sat, unmoving, for about ten minutes as I imagined overall clad baggage handlers, and drivers in bright orange headphones running around the garage shouting at each other.
   The rest of the takeoff was uneventful. I mean to say that no one received an errant bag on the top of their head from the malfunctioning overhead compartment. And once we were airborne, the door behaved itself for the rest of the flight.

"Well, I'm back," he said.

   With those words J.R.R. Tolkien ended his 1300 odd page epic The Lord Of The Rings, and managed, in one short sentence, to sum up the meaning of the entire work. At one point, late last week, while ruminating on the rapidly approaching date of our departure from Sicily, my wife made a comment to the effect that it (our vacation) was almost over. Her Uncle Mario smiled, and told her that nothing is ever really over. I don't know if Mario has read Tolkien, but it wouldn't at all surprise me. While Sam Gamgee's words mark the ending of a story, they do not mark the ending of the story.
   I filled about 45 pages in a notebook with opinions and observations during the trip, which I will try to arrange into some form of readability, and post up here, along with some of the hundreds of photographs I took during the trip. (Don't be thinking that's going to be a lot. I write big.) Now, however, I must retire, having spent altogether too much time trying to catch up on reading blogs and message boards, (and hardly making a dent for that matter), and the jet lag is catching up with me. I just wanted to pop in here and say, "well, I'm back."