One of my personal goals for our European trip was to make time for drawing. These are a few excerpts from my sketchbook.
Place des Vosges The oldest planned square in Paris, the Place des Vosges is bordered on one side by Victor Hugo’s house. It was a short walk from our apartment in the Marais district on a fine spring day. The park was full of people – far more than I cared to draw.
Courtyard – Le Clos Des Sources Our friends Laura and Jean-Francois Crotet run a bed-and-breakfast in Tauxigny, France. It’s a charming, 400-year-old home with wonderful outdoor spaces. The small village has several natural springs. The name of the B&B means “enclosed springs.”
Waiting for the Train At the Paris Bercy Station, we had a lot of time on our hands. After several hours, our overnight train to Florence was replaced – except the new one didn’t have a sleeper car. (Read the full story here.) Later, we met Derek and Rosemary, a delightful couple from Cornwall, England. When I showed Derek the drawing, he said: “You got the chin right! It was me Mum’s.
Riomaggiore Marina Some of the drawings in my sketchbook are from memory and others from direct observation. This one was drawn on the train returning home from Cinque Terre to Florence, Italy, and influenced by the Picasso/Miro/Dali exhibit we’d seen a few days earlier. After shaking off my rusty drawing skills, I tended to prefer the more abstract or less realistic drawings.
Winged Lion Visiting Venice, you can’t help but notice the winged lions everywhere – on flags, statues, buildings. In a seafaring town, why a winged lion? Well, it’s the symbol of Saint Mark. For more on that, and how he came to Venice, read this article.
The Venetians are also responsible for blowing the roof off the Parthenon in Greece. At the time it was occupied by the Turks, who used it as a warehouse for weapons, gun powder, etc. In a battle, a lucky shot ignited the gun powder and the Parthenon was never the same.
On a day-to-day basis, it takes a surprising amount of time to vacation properly. So much so that, having returned home, we have a backlog of material yet to post here … like this video from our stay in Rome.
Look for more posts, photos and videos as we get around to it.
When we were planning this trip, Eli was not thrilled to find out that he’d be celebrating his eighth birthday (May 16) on an island in Greece. We told him it would be really cool, but Eli likes things the way he likes them – meaning the way they’ve always been. To compensate, before we left home in March, we invited a few of his friends over for a Star Wars sleepover birthday party.
When we got to Greece, we had to improvise. We wanted him to get a present to mark his actual birthday but, needing to pack the gift home, it had to be small. While in Athens, Rebecca snuck out and found a Pirates of the Caribbean Lego set that Eli had his eye on.
Once on Sifnos, the search began for a birthday cake and candles. We asked around, but it appeared neither bakery in town had cakes or made them. We got vague directions to another town on the island, but with our very limited Greek (and adding in the cost of a rental car or taxi) decided against it. Eli agreed that four muffin-sized chocolate souffles would be a reasonable substitute for the cake.
Greek birthday candles?
Having visited the tiny Greek Orthodox church high on the hill above our apartment a few days earlier, we knew one place we could find candles, so I climbed the hill again. I said a prayer for my parents, left a handful of Euro coins as an offering, and took eight thin tapers with me. We borrowed a lighter from Kostas, our apartment caretaker, cut the candles down to size and set off for the bakery.
We explained what we wanted to the bakery shopkeeper. With an ashen look, she asked: “Where did you get these (candles)? At the church?! No. You can’t use these. They are for the souls of the dead, not a birthday!” Then she assured us, “We have birthday candles.” Slightly embarrassed, but undaunted, we lit the candles, quickly sang “Happy Birthday” and continued with the celebration.
Birthday sand castle
Eli had a fine birthday assembling and playing with Legos, playing with his brother, building a sand castle on the beach, and swimming in the ocean. I also wrote this poem for him to mark the day, inspired by the many words that rhyme with eight.
I can’t wait
Today is the date
When Eli turns 8!
Don’t be late
Eight is great
No need to debate
Investigate or deliberate
It is his fate
Eli is eight
I can’t understate
Or overrate
The need to celebrate
and fill your plate
With birthday cake
Can you relate?
It’s a good day, mate
Before I terminate
Let me educate you
Why Eli’s great
He can skate, create
and calculate
He’s big but I’m not talkin’
’bout his height or weight
His heart is kind
He doesn’t hate
Imaginate
what it’s like to be 8
Battle droids who agitate
Decapitate crazed inmates
Sail away
You’re a pirate!
He was born
In the United States
Wherever he locates
No need to translate
Celebrate!
Yesterday, me and Dad went out to take photos of the town we’re staying in. We are on Sifnos, one of the Greek islands. In three days, it will be my birthday!
I took photos of things that I thought looked cool. I hope you like them.
There are 24 letters in the Greek alphabet. Some symbols represent multiple sounds in our alphabet, such as kappa which is used for “c” and “k.” We get our word “alphabet” from the first two letters in Greek – alpha and beta.
My name in Greek looks like this:
ΛΥΚΑΣ
My Dad asked me to look for the letters on signs around Sifnos and take photos of them. Sifnos is the island we’re staying on this week. In Greek it looks like this:
Reading my last post, I realize that I was getting tired of being in the same place. We wanted to live in a single place for awhile to really get the feel of the country, so we decided on 3 weeks in Florence. Even after the side trips to Siena, Cinque Terre, and Venice, I was ready for our vacation to move on.
It’s funny how quickly a place can feel like home. In Florence, we lived the life Italian. Eli referred to our apartment as “home” and we got to know some of the people in our neighborhood. Of course, Dan did most of the daily shopping. He did such a great job with his Beginner Italian that the fruit/veg shopkeepers were giving him free basil and telling him which stuff was good for the day (and not allowing him to buy the not-quite-fresh). Dan also acquired an Italian “girlfriend” (a Kristin Davis look-alike) who worked at his favorite bread shop. The day she progressed from arreviderci to “ciao” was a moment he will remember. Also, she gave him free bread at the end of the day. Hmmm. No, I am happy he had an Italian crush, like most Italian men do. La dolce vita!
I was ready to leave Florence and happy to land in Rome. There was a strike of some sort (no one could explain exactly what) so we did not get into the main city terminal. Our train stopped in a Rome suburb and we had to wait a long time for a taxi, but everything worked out. Our new apartment is very nice and right in the midst of the Old City. The first afternoon, we went to the Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon, and Piazza Navona. The vibe is very different here, much more “big city” energy and much less green space (and more aggressive vendors).
The Vatican reminded me of Versailles … opulence to the nth degree. It is not what I think Catholicism is about in our time and it is rather shameful (in my opinion). But viewing Michelangelo’s “Pieta” brought tears to my eyes, even with the multitudes of tour group sheep baa-ing about and getting in the way.
We all love our new location, it is so nice not to have to take any public transport and be able to walk almost everywhere. Now we are off for the Colosseum! Tomorrow we fly to Athens, which also has some sort of strike going on in which the strikers are planning on blocking the sea ports. We are losing a day in Athens to avoid the strike so we can get to Sifnos without trouble.
All is well, all is good. Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms I know!
We’ve seen and learned a lot while traveling in Europe over the last five weeks. As in Florence, when our apartment was a hilly 15-minute walk to buy groceries, vino, or gelato, one of the most important things to know is when the shops are open. This is easier said than done.
Generally, but not always, Italians take a long break after lunch – roughly 1:30–5:30 – but it varies by shop. Generally, but not always, shops are closed on Sundays … and sometimes Mondays … and occasionally evenings.
Keep in mind, fruits and vegetables are often found at a different store than meat and cheese, or good bread. Fortunately, wine is easy to find and relatively cheap. One of our favorite stores sold candy and chocolates in front and wine in back.
Throughout our trip, we’ve asked Lucas and Eli to adapt to different beds, customs, languages, and modes of transportation. We couldn’t ask for better travelers.
In the absence of a traditional school day, play dates with friends, piano lessons, and other chores they have at home, it’s been impressive to see how they have filled their free time. There is no Wii, no TV, and only an occasional movie. Most days they will spend 20-30 minutes each playing games online or on my iTouch.
So what do they do?
They read a lot. They also play extraordinarily well together, often outside. When they play, what they’re usually doing is making up stories that they inhabit, rich with vivid locations, characters and action. In fact, both have begun documenting their “game”, illustrating their characters and writing books. They’re fantastic!
They’ve also spent time going to museums, castles and churches, making movies, and drawing pictures. On train trips, sometimes we’ll work on a collaborative story, taking turns building on what the previous person has written.
What’s impressed me the most, and reinforces behavior I’ve seen before in my children, as well as in others, is how resourceful they are. Too often, in the name of caution or convenience, children aren’t given the chance to really see what they can do.
I’ve seen what ours can do, and the sky’s the limit.
Maybe you have noticed, but I am not really one for blogging. I would rather share my experiences in person, but as that is impossible, I blog. I am uncomfortable with personal writing for an unknown reader, due to the fact that the written word cannot impart my tone of voice. My tone of voice is important — just ask my kids. So forgive me for my infrequent blog posts — I would rather be drinking wine and hanging out, or talking in person! Anyway….
Taking this long trip has opened my eyes to a lot of things about myself. Such as:
It doesn’t pay to get irritated at things you cannot change, so either accept it or change yourself. The Italians take a long break after lunch and stores are often not open from noon to six. Or, maybe some days they are open. Other days they do not open at all. We have been trying to buy a roasted chicken from Mangia Trattoria for over 2 weeks now. Both Dan and I have stopped by this store a total of about 6 times, and EVERY TIME they are closed. It is a personal goal for me to eat that chicken at least once while we are here.
Since getting used to the store hours, we have simply rearranged the way we prefer to do things and do it the Italian way. Our kids are going to bed at 11 pm and getting up after 9, they drink milk rarely (as milk is served at room temp in restaurants and is only sold in small bottles in the stores) and they are drinking more Fanta than I ever thought I would approve. Well, I don’t approve, but I let it go.
The daily search for food is tiring. We have to go to the grocery store once per day, fill up our reusable bags, and tote them up the hill back to our apartment (well, to be truthful, mostly Dan does this. I have always hated grocery shopping). Then I have to figure out how to cook the food using Italian appliances, without all our usual spices and utensils. As Dan said, “It’s kind of like camping, only in an apartment!” Despite it all, we have been eating very well, and eating out every few days.
I use a lot of non-renewable energy in the US, even though I think of myself as kind of “green.” I do laundry every 3-4 days here, as we only packed one carry-on bag per person. That was one of the best things we did and I will never overpack again (or so I say now). Each person has been pulling their own suitcase through the streets of London, Paris, Florence, and soon to be Rome and Athens. We could not have done it any other way, but I must say I am getting sick of my clothes. I wash clothes in the high-efficiency washer and then hang them out to dry. I rarely hang out clothes in the US, even though I have a clothes line. It is just easier to put them in the dryer. I think I may be able to change this habit, at least in the summer. I like the smell of clothes dried on the line, if they dry in a reasonable amount of time (read: one day).
I miss my car so much. We could buy food much easier if we had a car, but we don’t. And we have to take public transport (or walk) everywhere. It would be easier if I had one of those cute Vespas (as I did when I was in college). It has been 5 weeks since I have driven, and when I come home and get to drive my hybrid SUV (a contradiction in terms, I know) I will feel happiness.
I hope Eli and Lucas are getting the bigger picture, too. When the boys were wishing we would hail a cab instead of taking the bus, I said. “Look at all of these people who don’t have cars and never will. They take the bus daily. “ Lucas said, “Yes, I was thinking about that. We even have two cars.” I hope my kids are seeing that people live differently everywhere, and that there are other ways of life that are as good. We met an Argentinian orthopedic surgeon who said he could not afford a car. We are certainly blessed as an American family.
You get back the emotions you give.
It is weird to talk to only my family for weeks on end. I am not bored with them, but it is strange not to have other people to bounce off ideas and thoughts. I find that when I get irritated with them, I think about what I am doing and how I can change my own reactions. It’s like being a teacher — when one kid is acting out, the teacher needs to think about how they can act differently to change the dynamic. This actually works! I am trying to change myself and not expect others to change.
Things are way more expensive in Europe.
Oh my. Everything costs a lot. Dan and I bought the boys some gelato and then wanted a beer for ourselves. I went to a tabbachi (kind of deli/bar) and bought two 12 oz beers and 2 small bags of potato chips. It cost 16 euro. Which translates to $24. Ouch. I don’t even want to think about the cost of eating out. Like Scarlett O’Hara, I will think about that tomorrow.
I look forward to Greece. We knew England would be easy, France was a luxury because Laura took such good care of us, Italy was harder because we don’t speak Italian (although Dan has been doing a wonderful job) and Greece is going to be a challenge because not only do we not speak any Greek, we do not even recognize the alphabet. But, there is the Beach. I plan on resting on the beach and making sand castles. Then I get to come home. I miss my home.
End note: We finally scored on that chicken from the Always Closed Deli. Wasn’t very good.
Here’s a highlight video of our Florence apartment:
For three weeks we’re using Florence as our home base to explore other areas of Italy. Two weeks ago it was a day trip to Siena, this morning we’re off to Venice for two days, and last week we visited Cinque Terre (pronounced Cheen-kwuh Tair-uh).
Cinque Terre – which means Five Lands – is a national park on Italy’s northwest coast famous for its five exceedingly charming little villages linked by miles of hiking trails and breathtaking ocean views. From north to south about 20 miles separate the towns of Monterosso, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola, and Riomaggiore.
There are few direct routes to Cinque Terre. From Florence, we went to Pisa, then La Spezia, and finally to Riomaggiore – about a 2 ½ hour train trip that included an expensive lesson in filling out our Eurail Family Flexi-Pass from a crabby Italian train official.
From the train station we walked through a tunnel to Via Colombo, the main street in Riomaggiore, where we had rented lodging for the night. The tunnel, maybe 400 feet long, was decorated on one side with an incredible floor-to-ceiling, contemporary mosaic mural depicting the natural wonders of the area.
After lunch, we quickly set off to hike Via Dell’Amore (Lover’s Walk) which links Riomaggiore and Manarola. As on Pont des Arts in Paris, lovers leave a symbol of their devotion by sealing their lock and tossing the key into the ocean below. Some seemed to be hedging their bets by using a combination lock. As we continued, the boys enjoyed taking breaks to climb on seaside rocks.
After a gelato and beer break in Manarola, we took a short train ride to Monterosso, which has the nicest beach of the five towns. The day was unexpectedly warm, so Rebecca and I relaxed while the boys played in the waves. We had a wonderful meal at La Cantina Di Miky and took a late train back to Riomaggiore for the night.
The next day included more hiking and rock climbing before returning to Florence. Someday, we hope to return for a longer visit.
Place des Vosges
Our friends Laura and Jean-Francois Crotet run a bed-and-breakfast in Tauxigny, France. It’s a charming, 400-year-old home with wonderful outdoor spaces. The small village has several natural springs. The name of the B&B means “enclosed springs.”
At the Paris Bercy Station, we had a lot of time on our hands. After several hours, our overnight train to Florence was replaced – except the new one didn’t have a sleeper car. (Read the full story here.) Later, we met Derek and Rosemary, a delightful couple from Cornwall, England. When I showed Derek the drawing, he said: “You got the chin right! It was me Mum’s.
Some of the drawings in my sketchbook are from memory and others from direct observation. This one was drawn on the train returning home from Cinque Terre to Florence, Italy, and influenced by the Picasso/Miro/Dali exhibit we’d seen a few days earlier. After shaking off my rusty drawing skills, I tended to prefer the more abstract or less realistic drawings.
Visiting Venice, you can’t help but notice the winged lions everywhere – on flags, statues, buildings. In a seafaring town, why a winged lion? Well, it’s the symbol of Saint Mark. For more on that, and how he came to Venice, read this article.
