Goin' Dutch

Greetings time travelers. Let us once again put three dimes in the grandfather clock and cue the organist. Ah…leaving Venice and heading for Amsterdam.

Let it be said right up front that our assessment of Amsterdam from this one night stay definitely is lacking in either enthusiasm or ability to change traveling gears. Amsterdam is a wonderful city, however we are glad we have visited and may not seek it out again. This would be our loss and not the city’s. It is just that after three weeks in Italy with fabulous summer weather and the best food on the planet any other venue would be compared to the Monkees after Jimi Hendrix opened for them (Jul 8-17, 1967). Amsterdam was cute like the Monkees and much more sophisticated but nonetheless a dramatic change of context.

Coming in from the airport seemed straightforward until we started reading signs and directions. A Germanic root is a possible starting point but after the third umlaut, procreation of the letter ‘a’ and prurient use of the letters ‘j’ and ‘k’, even the Germans must raise an eyebrow. As you can guess we could not find our hotel easily. However everyone speaks English. This is a plus both for lost tourists and the cosmopolitan flavor of the Dutch. The minus was that no one had heard of the hotel but could ‘imagine’ where it might be. John Lennon’s inspiring air did not ease the frustration of the quest.

The American Hotel offered some hope; to the point where Chris wanted to forego the actual reservation and make a new one right there. They were very helpful though and eventually we found the Best Western Leidse Square Hotel, Tesselschadestraat 23, Amsterdam Oud-West, Amsterdam.

Everything was quite in order and we received some recommendations and some directional guidance.

Immediately upon touring, the canals were ubiquitous:

This did allow for some continuity with Venice and hearken some pleasant boating experiences courtesy of the Seine’s Bateaux Mouches. Definitely on the plus side. So lunch on the canal seemed de rigeur. An alfresco opportunity with a large Guinness sign seemed to beckon. A beer and a sandwich with a northern Europe flavor would be an acceptable change from panini and spritzes. Espying an unknown choice from the draughts, Chris ordered it along with a sandwich. The waitron said that he would love the drink selection.

Now you can play to the strength or weakness of a country’s cuisine anywhere. It is a bit unsettling when you think you are playing to a strength and the draft they bring out has more in common with cider than hops. Alright, when on foreign soil be adventurous and accommodating…thank you and, oh, this is quite different than what I thought I had ordered. The response was a conversation closing: “Enjoy!”. Whoops…

The sandwich was technically consorting with bread/roll but configured more for aesthetics than actual eating. It was not going well. Paying also turned into a cultural experience. Is there a gelato place nearby?

The overcast skies began to abet a grey demeanor. This, on top of the pedestrian urban experience in Amsterdam. We are talking well constructed and used bike lanes, trolley lanes, bus lanes, crosswalks and auto lanes combined in an Escher-like configuration.

The bikes were impressive. This is not your isolated speed nut weaving in and out of sidewalk and traffic or leisurely pedaling. Everyone was cruising at the same speed (fast) in a very organized fashion. This made the crosswalks more interesting as you ran out of eyes checking possible avenues of collision with the trolleys, buses and cars.

Vondelpark proved to outdo any ongoing disappointment. Several museums are there along with wonderful green spaces, waterworks, ponds, paths and people.

The Rijksmuseum is an anchor there and is occasion to great art and sculpture. It was quite effortless to wander and take in the sights.

 Chris had prepared for Amsterdam by contacting two of his former students, one of whom had lived in Amsterdam for a year. This led to a suggestion that dinner, now a nebulous prospect given the lunch experience, should be a little more on the ‘sure thing’ side of touring. Amsterdam is the perfect place to partake of Indonesian food. So Ben had said to try a rice table. This was an excellent suggestion.

A plethora of plates, aromas and tastes are brought to you during your dining experience. They are on trays and pedestals and use sterno heaters for continuous warming. Not too shabby. This fueled our post dinner constitutional.

The picture portion of the experience will now draw to a close as a change from PG-13 to NC17 is anticipated.

The Red Light District and marijuana…hmm…

As for the district, it was a destination that was known to be a jarring experience but still a curiosity. The tolerant attitude of the Dutch was most interesting. Families, for goodness sake, were ‘cruising’ the District and yes, you are separated by just a pane of glass from the enterprising professionals. Most bizarre. Now have seen and done that.

As for the coffee shops, the boys and some internet research had provided more than enough information to cultivate more curiosity. One can buy cannabis in various forms from these coffee shops and indulge on the premises. Due to intimidation (“Everybody is so young in there!”) and the prospect of Gini having to navigate through the city streets back to the hotel while securely leading Chris on a kite string did not bode well. Oh well.

The hotel was reached without further complications, breakfast was obtained and the now familiar transit system provided for a ride to the airport. Gini, the travel wizard, had already qualified for business class. Chris had been assigned to tray collection in coach but somehow Gini secured a business class seat for him. Boy, did he marry well!

So, back to the USA but…could we have some more wine please?

Venezia Once Again

Greetings – If you have given yourself over to absolute pleasure you might not be pleased about the slow but still “present” nature of the 40^th anniversary trip. Bologna and the day trip to Ferrara provided several days of wonderful existence. There would only be two nights left…Venice and Amsterdam. Both cities boast canals and love of living.

Our weakness is Venice. It could easily be argued that several other Italian venues could outdo the city of the Doge but…..

First impressions do linger and our initial Venetian experience involved the Ala hotel.

It can be found a few feet from the Grand Canal at the Giglio stop for Vaporetto #1 (famous for being an extended tour of the entire Grand Canal). The Gritti Palace is the big name in the campo (square) and has been the sight of several Bombay gin martinis. The ambience is enhanced with small touches in a medium sized piazza.

San Marco is within easy walking distance but one must survive the gauntlet. For us this is not too bad since we are talking the equivalent of Rodeo Drive, Palm Beach or Monaco in terms of vendors. Gawk and move on please.

An interesting curiosity on the way to San Marco is Chiesa di San Moise (Church of Moses). Wait a minute…Moses was Jewish…Ah the Venetians, in fact, have several churches dedicated to Old Testament personages. (Also honors Moise Venier who paid for it to be rebuilt in the 9^th century – thank you Wikipedia). Very interesting.

San Moise is mostly known for its baroque façade. In some ways it is similar to the mother ship in Close Encounters in that anything might be found on its surface. Part of the issue is that city fame-achievers could not celebrate their image in civic statues so they funded the construction of “art” in or on churches.

Yes, that is R2D2 imbedded…er, sorry…

Venice also offers the Biennale, an international art festival with nations and independent artists exhibiting state of the art. It has been influential to our looking forward to viewing some of the Art Basel in Miami when our timeline finally allows for December.

Many stores remind the visitor of the city wide display of exhibits including the haute couture gauntlet:

One (or two) always manages to make time for San Marco. Since it was a favorite jigsaw puzzle as a youth, Chris always feels that something like clicking his heels three times is responsible for being there.

The pigeons were kind enough to step back for the picture.

There are too many “pieces” to San Marco. If your opportunity is once in a life time, the Basilica di San Marco and the Doge’s Palace, which includes the Bridge of Sighs, are a must. If you are fortunate to return then other segments might be examined more closely, such as the Campanile (bell tower). This edifices collapsed in the past century but has resurrected since.

Another beautiful visual is provided by

the Torre del Orologio (Clock Tower). Previous visits had afforded a shrouded view as reconstructive work took many years.

The only mission had been supplied by CC: “Could you get me a rosary when you go to Italy, a brown or black one.” Okay, here it was the end of the three week sojourn and the request was still unfulfilled. Venice, however, is special. Some of Mom’s ashes are there. The Von D’Luccis have rallied there.

A perusal through the gauntlet of stores was unsatisfying. Besides, should Dad have a rosary purchased with postcards? St Mark’s Basilica loomed… as did a line of several hundred tourists waiting to enter. So how about some critical thinking and some problem solving? The opportunity to buy religiosities would be after a tour or a session in the church wandering the aisles. So why not check out where the exit is and poke one’s proboscis in there? Then maybe just a subtle shift of the shoulders, shuffle of the feet and one is at the counter inquiring about rosaries. A detailed discussion followed concerning who it was for, why the beads had to be large and brown or black. Simplicity was the theme as five euro provided for a memorable package with a card stating site of purchase in Italian. Va bene!

So a return to the Ala was in order so that we could lounge in familiar surroundings:

Yes, a little blurred, ergo, familiar.

Spritzes? Of course.

Another nearby haunt was Campo Stefano. It resulted in an al fresco indulgence of fine food and ambiance.

Ah, romantic to say the least. So now one last stroll through night time San Marco.

The several orchestras were in their milieu competing with each other. Each time we have reveled here it has been in Mom’s memory whose visit was posthumous.

Perhaps life will be fortunate and a return will be possible. Que sera sera.

The morning brought the water taxi and we were the only passengers on the Grand Canal for quite a while. Eventually the vessel was full after a circuitous, pleasant ride to the airport. Arrivederci Venezia. Next…Amsterdam.

Ferrara For A Day

Greetings

Though it is perilously approaching nostalgia, here is an account of our tourist day in Ferrara, Italy.

Getting to the train station from our rooms, even though it was Sunday and the bus schedules changed, was fairly straightforward. It was a brief ride (under an hour); roughly due north of Bologna. It was a long walk, however, to the sights we wished to see and a bit on the warm side. The streets were almost empty with some traffic (day of rest?). So it was quite fortuitous to happen upon:

For someone like Chris this was just the natural flow of the universe. The perfect place to stop; Gini agreed.

It was run by a woman and her son. The son was the front man bringing people in and accommodating them as to seats or counter items.

We opted for the seats with that certain alluring ambiance.

Totally fortified we felt able to continue our pilgrimage to the castle and moat destination of

the Palazzo Giulio d’Este also known as Castello Estense.

Ah the moat…

This city boasts no Roman ruins. We are talking your feudal, medieval, Renaissance creation here. The Este family were the resident powers in the city thanks to a marriage to Lucrezia Borgia among other factors. Though constantly at war (Venice, Papal States for a couple of foes/friends), this city became renowned for art, music and trade.

The tour of the castello included a creepy look at the nether regions of the castle where enemies and uncooperative relatives spent many a year. The upper floors gave a more comfortable picture of the residence:

One is always reminded of the painstaking process to recover and maintain centuries old artwork and architecture:

Cloth patches are individually placed to mark current areas of restoration.

The tour included a very good description and history of the city and the Este family. It rivaled Venezia and Firenze in many ways.

A city of ultimately thirty two thousand, two thousand were Jews at one point and were protected from Roman Catholic persecution much to the Vatican’s chagrin. An earthquake in 1570 changed the kharma and the Estes fell out of power.

Thanks to technology where to eat was determined through Trip Advisor. Il Mangiastorie provided a wonderful inexpensive fixed price meal.

Though a bit on the warm side, Sunday provided a leisurely atmosphere to explore and seek out our next palazzo. Along the way we encountered wonderful architecture of an artisan city.

Eventually Palazzo Schifanola was found. This “Palace of Joy” or pleasure palace meant to “banish boredom” had gained notoriety because of its construction by an Este who was the son of Lucrezia Borgia. Much of the art was faded or had been removed. There were some interesting period pieces of furniture.

The best part was a very funky restaurant on the grounds.

Since the meal at Il Mangiastorie had been so good there were no regrets … but maybe next time…

The heat and all the walking must have been taking its toll as Gini requested a nap …“just twenty minutes”. Inspired by the leisurely setting she compromised with a short rest:

Palazzina di Marfisa d'Este, however, did not disappoint. Alas, no pictures were allowed and one must research this on the web but the furniture and layout here was very satisfying. There were obvious displays to dispel the notorious reputation of the residence also being a pleasure palace (those Estes, you know). Marfisa was a woman of taste and intelligence. The grounds here were also wonderful and are available for private functions.

Eventually the way led back to the Piazza Maggiore. Here was a major cathedral and civic buildings and offices.

 

The mandatory gelato was consumed after a stroll through a craft market set up for the day. Feeling adventurous, but mostly tired, public transportation was sought and secured allowing an early evening ride back to Bologna.

Upon arrival the Sunday schedule of buses in Bologna did provide a surprise when what was thought to be the weekend equivalent of our ride home actually headed away from the city center. Thank you iPhone for verifying the wayward course and allowing a hop back on to the street to catch the next bus in the other direction. Some comfort pizza and the ambience of Bologna at night allowed for a quiet evening. Ciao Ferrara.