POSTCARD FROM THE RIVIERA – III

 

Before departing from Italy, we made a stop in Genoa to visit its gothic cathedral, see the restored home of Christopher Columbus, stroll through a Saturday street market, and have our last Italian gelato before crossing the French border. Genoa deserved a lot more attention than the two hours our itinerary permitted, but you can’t do everything in a limited period of time. When we travel, we like to keep the number of hotels we stay in down to two or three at the most, and take day trips from those locations. This type of schedule keeps us from having to pack and unpack, ultimately saving a lot of time, allowing more energy for sightseeing.

 

Soon we were back on the road, driving on the Grand Corniche above the Principality of Monaco where Grace Kelly met her tragic demise. (Her tomb, inside the cathedral of the city, is still festooned with garlands of fresh flowers, a testament to the enduring attraction of the fairy tale princess on the public’s imagination.) We would come back to visit Monaco and Monte Carlo another day, so we drove by the famous “Rock” on which the palace stands, and in short time, the breath-taking vista of Nice with its curving coastline, famous harbor and azure water was spread out before us. Sunset found us cruising down the elegant Promenade des Anglais, past the justifiably famous Hotel Negresco, to the Hotel New York, our Nice headquarters. Waiting for us at the hotel was my favorite poet and his bride, who arrived from Paris via the TGV a few hours ahead of us, and who were, to our great delight, spending the next four days with us.

 

That night we had two birthdays to celebrate. Dave, Miki’s friend from Florida was turning his odometer, and Linda, a lovely retired lady from Tennessee, who left home to avoid a big family birthday brouhaha. Determined not to let these milestones pass unnoticed, we conspired with the hotel staff and members of our tour to make the day memorable. Liz, one of the sparkplugs of our group, had the brilliant idea of passing out postcards to everyone following our visit to Elba for each person to send birthday wishes to Dave, signed from Paolina. This resulted in such gems as “David, where have you been? I’m waiting for you. I’m horizontal. Paolina” You get the gist. Everyone got into the spirit, and the cards were slipped under Dave’s door after midnight. At dinner, I made a little speech congratulating the celebrants on having survived another turn of our little planet around the sun, the staff brought out two cakes with lit candles, we sang the appropriate songs, then the birthday girl received congratulatory kisses from all the men, youngest in line first, and the birthday boy got the same from all the ladies, oldest in line first. (No, you first, my dear...I’m sure I’m younger.)

 

The following morning found us back in Monaco, visiting the cathedral, watching the noontime changing of the guards at the palace, having lunch in the gardens over looking the marina filled with yachts, the smallest of which were about 100 feet, prompting Fran to comment, “there is a lot of money in the harbor.” We stopped by to see the Casino in Monte Carlo with no less than four Ferraris parked in front, giving Miki and Stephanie the opportunity to donate a few euros to the local economy. Personally, I studied too much math to gamble, but they enjoyed their brief visit. I would have liked to have taken a tour of the oceanographic museum set up by Prince Albert I, a remarkable scientist and statesman, located on the grounds of the palace, but again, time constraints did not permit this luxury.

 

As we walked around Monte Carlo, we noticed the numerous concrete flower boxes being readied for the annual Formula-1 Grand Prix of Monaco to be held next month.  Ever since the Englishman Williams Groover won the first Monaco Grand Prix in 1929, each weekend of the Ascension holiday finds the sometimes wide, sometimes narrow streets of the city, punctuated by hairpin turns, come to life with the noise of roaring motors, as cars fly through at speeds of over 150 miles an hour in front of hundreds of thousands of spectators from all over the world.

 

In the afternoon, we drove back to Nice in order to visit the Russian Cathedral of St. Nicolas with its colorful onion dome spires. It dates from the Belle Époque, and was built by none other than Tsar Nicholas II. Afterwards, we had a little time to wander around Nice on foot, stroll along the main shopping boulevard into the imposing square at the end of rue Massena with its statues (lit up from within) that change color every minute, by the spouting fountain with its mythical figures, and on to the Promenade des Anglais, past the Cabaret du Casino Ruhl and its associated glitter, before cool winds and cumulative travel fatigue shepherds us back to our hotel.

 

Omitted: Aix-en-Provence, Grasse, Cannes, St. Paul de Vence, and the end of our trip.

Postcard from the Riviera – 2

 

According to legend, the Tuscan Archipelago was formed when a necklace slid from the neck of Venus, goddess of beauty and love, and fell into the waters of the Tyrrhenian Sea. Had I known this story ahead of time, I probably would not have been surprised to find the island of Elba to be a place of beauty – rich and varied scenery of mountains ringed with old forest, lagoons and inlets, small hill towns nestling against the shore in timeless tranquility. However, like most of us who studied European history, I only knew of Elba as the island to which Napoleon Bonaparte was first exiled in 1814. This in turn conjured in my mind Alcatraz-like images of a bleak, forbidding place. The reality turned out to be a very pleasant surprise. Though he only stayed on the island for 10 months, Napoleon had two residences: the Palazzina de Mulini located in the highest part of Portoferraio, the island’s main port, and the other the villa San Martino, his summer residence, and one that we had the opportunity to visit. The later edifice was purchased for him by his sister, Paolina, considered to be one of the greatest beauties of the time. Napoleon had been stripped of most of his fortune, and she was married to a Borghese, one of the richest of the Roman families. Paolina also had a history of conquests, though in a different realm than her brother, earning her the sobriquet “Paolina the horizontal.”

 

We visited Porto Azzuro, a sea-side resort on the opposite end of the island from Portferraio. Elba also has large iron stores and mines, accounting for the legends of ships being “drawn” to the island, as in fact magnetic compasses can be affected by the significant iron deposits found there. We did not visit the Miniature Mine nearby, though the brochure I saw looked interesting. Elba turned out to be the surprise gem of our Italian Riviera experience.

 

The last day of our Italian Riviera experience finds us visiting the highlights of the Gulf of Poets, staring with Portovenere, a fortified town recently given World Heritage status by UNESCO. Doria castle (open to visitors) dominates the town, and on a rocky promontory stands the small but exquisite St. Peter’s church built in the 13^th century in Genoese gothic style with alternating bands of white and black marble guaranteed to draw any photographer’s lens. We move on to Santa Margherita Ligure, a seaside resort town defined by charming shops and an unusual mix of nautical and Belle Époque styles. Since the days of the 17^th century, when the Genoese nobility built beautiful villas here, the town has attracted an international mix of visitors. It’s lunch time, and rather than wasting our time in a restaurant, we stop in a bakery, pick up a fresh baguette, that stop by to purchase some great mortadella, cheese, which we consume along with a bottle of local wine on a bench by the sea. This prepares us for the short ferry ride to Portofino, a tiny 19^th century fishing village transformed by countless celebrity visitors into one of the most painted, photographed and celebrated gems of the Italian Riviera. The town square with its multi-colored houses and the marina with its fairytale yachts, though seen in photos by almost all visitors prior to arrival, still have the capacity to take your breath away. It’s a small wonder that this area held sway over so many writers, artists and poets, from Nietzsche to Hesse, Wagner, Kandinsky, Freud, Hemingway, and Guy de Maupassant.

 

One of the pleasures of traveling with a group of friends and co-workers is the opportunity to get to know each other better, as being removed from the surroundings of our everyday existence and being strangers together in a foreign land puts us all on a more or less equal footing. At work, we all tend to wear our professional masks and demeanors. Here, we had the opportunity to allow sides of us our colleagues don’t get to see come forth. I was pleased to learn how many good humored, interesting, funny, and talented people I work with, as well as have some personal conversations with old friends that sadly we often don’t have the time for at home. Another bonus turned out to be the cohesion that developed not only between the sixteen of us I had recruited for the adventure and the other half of the group who were contacts of Fran, our travel agent. Everyone mixed well, looked out for each other, shared stories, and developed an esprit-de-corps that made us all sad to say good-bye to each other at the end of the holiday.

 

Next: The French Riviera

Sorry about the delay, but I had problems uploading my photos yesterday from our Riviera trip. You can now find them in the adjacent Albums. Based on your kind comments so far, I'll add aditional chapters of our travels in the upcoming days/weeks. Hope you are all enjoying the weekend.

 

POSTCARD FROM THE RIVIERA

 

Attempting to avoid an anaerobic existence, starved for the oxygen of travel and the company of friends, we once again set off for a holiday away from the quotidian tasks of our working lives. There is one thing you learn early on as a physician. You have to begin doing what you want to do now. We are not living in eternity. We have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our hand – and melting like a snowflake.

 

Three items influenced the choice for our trip. We found an incredible deal to some of the choicest spots on the French and Italian Riviera (less than the cost of a week in Hawaii, as meals, transportation and sightseeing were all included.) This in turn, made it easy to persuade a number of friends to coordinate their schedules with ours so that they could accompany us on the trip. (Given the time commitments of our lives, sometimes this is the only way we are able to get together.) Last, but not least, my son and his wife were able to join us for the French half of our tour, as their home in Paris is but a five-hour train ride to Nice on the TGV.

 

Lufthansa provides a direct flight from the West Coast to Munich, accompanied by their better than average service, a choice of 15 movies, to which we provided our own noise reduction headphones, making the 11 ½ hour flight almost bearable. Coach seats still place chiropractic challenges on our bodies, but fortunately we are still young enough to know we will quickly recover. From Munich, it’s only an hour by turboprop to Pisa, and 45-minute bus ride from Pisa’s airport to the Hotel Luna in Marina di Massa. With the nine-hour time difference, it’s almost 11 PM by the time we check in. Italians eat late, and we are promised a cold buffet upon arrival.  True to their word, there is a nice selection of antipastos laid out for us, and we eat our fill. But wait…now they bring out a plate of pasta too good to pass up. This is followed by a full meat and vegetable entrée, and some dolce (dessert) to finish off the meal, and us as well. So, our American friends, some of whom have never been to Italy before, are introduced to the gustatory side of la dolce vita.

 

The following morning greets us with bright sunshine, a breakfast of rolls, cold cuts and cheeses, croissants and cappuccinos, then a short bus ride to La Spezia, a port city that is the home of the Italian navy, and from where we catch our train to Cinque Terre. Cinque Terre consists of five small seaside villages located along 18 kilometers of steep, marble precipices plunging down to crashing foam below. Blue greens fading to spare shades of azure and then to turquoise, sapphire, and cerulean waters lined by rose-colored marble shores create an image that makes this area unforgettable. There are extensive networks of paths connecting the villages, the most famous of which is the “Via dell’ Amore”, carved out of the rock above the sea that joins Manarola and Riomaggiore. Legend has it that the path was made by the townspeople so that two lovers from the separated villages could meet for a lover’s tryst.

 

The train ride Monterosso to Vernazza provides more scenic panoramas, as well as an unexpected adventure for the group. As we are all boarding the train, I notice a group of four young girls crowding on with us, then stepping back off the train. Dave in our group yells at his wife to check her purse. In a few seconds, four of the group realize they are missing their wallets, at which point we all pile off the train, and manage to grab and subdue the four young gypsies, one whom, about 16 years old, is clearly pregnant. The stationmaster calls for the police. The girls try to brazen it out, protesting their innocence, but as they see the police arriving, they reluctantly produce the four missing wallets, knowing they are more likely to get off if they are not found with them in their possession. These types of incidents are very common in big cities, but according to our Italian guide, Giuseppe, have never occurred in his 32 years of escort experience in small towns.

 

Vernazza has one of those picture postcard harbors lined with shuttered centuries old buildings in pastel hues, a jetty of rose colored marble boulders, and small, brightly painted fishing boats bobbing in clear water. Terraced hillsides provide the perfect backdrop for a leisurely lunch of mortadella, local cheeses and a crisp baguette that we proceed to consume sitting on a comfortable bench, watching local life swirl by us. We always try to travel in the spring or fall, for not only is the weather better, but the crowds of tourists have yet to arrive, and fares are always more reasonable.

 

The white Cinque Terre wine is quite good, and pesto sauce is said to have been invented in the area. And as anyone who has ever been to Italy will tell you, you have never tasted ice cream until you have tried a gelato, a lighter but more flavorful delight from the inventors of this most marvelous treat.

 

Evening finds us back in Marina di Massa, just in time for the first of our evening cocktail parties. These parties are an old tradition of our group trips. Prior to departure, Fran, our travel agent, distribute bottles of gin, vodka, whiskey and wine for each member of troop to carry with them, leaving her to purchase only the necessary mixer on arrival. This provides room in everyone’s suitcase for any souvenirs they might purchase, and the parties give time for all of us to be together, exchange experiences from the preceding day, and allow those who don’t know each other to get better acquainted.  Cocktails are followed by another five course dinner, even better than the one served on our arrival. Those of us who still have energy left stroll after dinner through town and walk along the waterfront, while the rest dive into bed to recharge their batteries for the next day to come.