This was the photograph on our holiday card this year. It was taken in the Luxembourg Gardens in Paris last May. I was so taken with the man in the red jacket and his remote controlled sailboat, as were the children. He was rather like a pied piper, and if you look closely, he also captured the interest of none other than Peter.
In this age of technology, I think I'm going to be migrating to online holiday greetings next year. It'll be fun to find some clever way to send a little holiday cheer.
The American Cemetery for World War II soldiers in Normandy is a remarkable place. Staggering in the number of crosses representing fallen soldiers but incredibly peaceful overlooking the English Channel below. Here are a few post cards from this very impressive place.
A Soldier Remembered at the American Cemetery in Normandy © 2013 Claudia Ward
A Patriot Remembered © 2013 Claudia Ward
Honfleur is a charming seaport town in Normandy. I hope you enjoy these postcards!
Blue Hour from Our Hotel Window in Honfleur
Fishermen in Honfleur - Bringing in the Morning's Catch
Rainy Morning in Honfleur
Rome in the rain and Rome with sunshine feel like two entirely different cities. Peter and I spent two in Rome at the end of our month long European journey. The first was rainy, gloomy, gray, and, I must admit, depressing. The second was sunny, breezy, warm, and exciting.
Rome Italy - Piazza Navona
This was the first truly rainy, nasty day of our entire trip so we decided to do some desperately needed work on our photo inventory in the morning, enjoy a delightful lunch at a neighborhood trattoria, and then decide how to proceed for the rest of the day. The rain didn't let up until late in the day, so we decided to take the double decker tour of the city to get our bearings and help us decide what we might wanted to do the following day.
Around 4:00 p.m., we walked to the nearby Stazione Termini to board one of the bright red double-decker 110 buses. The driver left as soon as we got on board, signaling that we should wait for the ticket collector, who arrived shortly thereafter. We climbed the stairs to the upper deck but found absolutely everything soaking wet - even paper towels wouldn't help with all the water we saw - so, disappointedly we returned to the first floor. We found two seats that were directly at the bottom of the stairs (in case the sun came out) and immediately behind the back door which gave us a relatively unobstructed view. Now we waited, and waited, and waited, and finally the bus driver returned, started the engine and pulled away from the curb. Where had he been? We couldn't help but wonder - a cafe for an espresso, the loo, a bar for an aperitivo? Well, we were underway and that's what counted.
Rome is an ancient city and on a gray, rainy day, its ancient-ness shows in spades. The cobblestone streets are lumpy, bumpy and gray. The buildings all appear gray: gray brick and stone, pockmarked where signs or colorful marble once adorned the outer walls, and shiny new glass reflecting the gray of all that Roman stone. Our bus was meant to do a wide circle around Rome, starting at the Termini in the east, going as far west as the Vatican - just across the Tiber, and back. We were doing our best to appreciate this ancient (ugly) city, stretching our necks to see the Colosseum, the "Wedding Cake", and the busy city streets in general, when the driver had to hit the brakes, and then an avalanche of water cascaded down the stairs from the upper deck straight toward Peter. Startled at first, Peter's immediate reaction was to turn his video camera on to the oncoming torrent and ignore the fact that he was rapidly becoming soaked. All of the other tourists on board were looking at us with horror, thanking the dear Lord that this wasn't happening to them, and wondering, "What will these Americans do?" .... We laughed - long and hard, for there wasn't a thing we could do about it and this was more fun than we'd had all day. Better to laugh than cry, right? Peter said he saw no reason to move at this point especially as we had seats, and his pants would eventually dry. This bus took us only as far as the Vatican, at which point our "ticket-taker" told us we had to disembark and board an entirely different bus. We obeyed. When we boarded the next bus, there were only two seats remaining together, so Peter and I snapped them up - just behind the back door, at the base of the stairs to the upper deck. Can you see what's coming? Under way once more, our new driver also needed to brake suddenly and yet another waterfall headed our way. Once again Peter was on the receiving end of an avalanche of water and once again we roared with laughter much to the dismay of our fellow passengers. You truly can't make this stuff up. We were surprised - once again - at how much water could be captured by the second floor of a bus in a rain storm, and we caution you about this for your future travels. This blue bus eventually returned us to the Termini. We walked slowly back through the gray streets of Rome to our hotel and straight into its very elegant bar - seeking comfort in beauty, color, and a Negroni.
The Lobby Bar in The St. Regis Hotel Rome
Our second day in Rome was sunny, with bright blue skies, and puffy white clouds giving the city a wholly different feel. We decided to take a taxi to the furthest place we wanted to see away from the hotel - the Vatican. We arrived at St. Peter's Square around 11:30 a.m. to find the square cordened off and nearly ¾ full. We hadn't known when we set out, but Papal Audiences are held in the square every Wednesday, during the summer, when the Pope is in town. We quickly learned that we were allowed within the barricade, and approached as close as we could get. I am not Catholic but I was thrilled to be here, at this point in time. As the Pope and Cardinals spoke over the p.a. system, small groups, each wearing common attire like bright yellow hats for one diocesi or bright red for another, cheered - you could feel the good will in the air - it made me smile. Here we were in St. Peter's Square, receiving the Pope's blessing; this was an incredible beginning to our day.
Papal Audience in St. Peter's Square
No matter where we go Peter and I always try to get on the water to see the landscape from a different perspective. We were seriously considering doing this here until we saw the Tiber. For some reason, Rome turned it's back on the river that runs through it and walled it off from the city. As we looked down from the Ponte Sant'Angelo, we saw a shallow river that in many places looked more like a grassy marsh and it was bordered on each side by three-story tall walls beyond which we wouldn't see anything but rooftops. For the first time, we decided to stay on terra firma.
A "few" decades ago, I spent a month in Rome in college, when I was studying Art History and Italian, so I remembered places that I wanted Peter to see his first time through. After walking past the Ponte Sant'Angelo and along the banks of the Tiber, we headed for the Piazza Navona, which was teaming with tourists and pantomime artists who provided unexpected entertainment. Lunch was in the Campo de'Fiore just as the market was breaking down and farmers wheeled their remaining produce back up the alleys, to their trucks and then home. Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps were next. The throngs of tourists surprised us at each of these sights.
Spanish Steps - Rome Italy
At the base of the Spanish Steps, I told Peter I wanted to climb them and he smiled with resignation. We agreed to take them in stages and we did, he on the left side and me on the right. As I stopped at the first stage, I couldn't believe there was a fashion shoot going on amidst all of these people - a very smartly dressed couple, she in bright red high heels and he in distinctive Italian black leather shoes. It probably took us the better part of an hour to climb the stairs and photograph everything on the way, after which we rewarded ourselves with delicious, cool gelato.
Two days in Rome, one gray and gloomy, the other sunny and exhilerating. It's a city of contrasts and we enjoyed them all - albeit some more than others. The St. Regis Hotel was a wonderful oasis in the midst of this unique city - one we appreciated immensely.
Photos & Slide Show © 2012 Claudia Ward
Music: Italian Tarantella, Italian Restaurant Music of Italy
So here's a slide show covering our seven hour walk through the streets of Rome.
Ciao tutti!
Like most major cities, Rome combines lots of glass in their new architecture and it reflects all that it sees - old and new.
By the time we got toRome, we were exhausted and hungry, so we gratefully accepted directions to a nearby trattoria where we could get a late lunch. I didn't know it when we made our reservations but we're staying near the financial district of Rome, so there was an assortment of languages to be heard over lunch including German, French, Hungarian, and lots of English. Once we were "stablized" with lunch, it was easy to find things to catch our attention on the way back to the hotel.
I love reflections of nearly every kind and these are a few of what I saw - in this very old and new city.
The art ......!
The Ecstasy of St. Teresa by Bernini in Santa Maria della Vittoria, Rome, Italy
Sent from my iPhone
Claudia Danforth Ward
Taking the Boat from Positano to Capri
The island of Capri can be reached from a number of places along the Amalfi Coast and takes just over an hour from Positano. The day we went was ideal, warm breezes, lots of sunshine and calm seas. We boated around the island seeing several grottos, all named by colors - white, green and, of course, the famous blue one. We saw the queue of boats waiting to get in to the Blue Grotto and decided to take a pass on that one.
We hired a taxi for the four hours we were going to be on the island and the driver, Massimo, couldn't have been nicer. He took us up to Capri, where we walked the town. Peter and I both dubbed it Rodeo Drive on an island. Every high-end designer has a shop along these cobblestones streets. It's breathtaking - truly.
Lunch was at a small restaurant overlooking Marina Piccolo, and my grilled prawns were delivered to their doors while we were enjoying a glass of vino blanco in the shade staring out at the bluest sea I've ever seen.
Finally, Massimo drove us to Anacapri, the highest point on the island and encouraged us to take the chair lift to the very top. It was only mildly hazy and we could see Mount Vesuvius quite clearly in the distance.
A wonderful day all around and we all were quiet on the boat ride back to Positano, soaking up all we'd seen and watching Capri fade in to the distance.
Photos and Slide Show ©2012 Claudia Ward
Music: Un Signo Di Dio, Christophe Beck from "Under The Tuscan Sun"
Peter and I came to Positano to see what so many postcards show as a picture perfect location on the west coast of Italy. I daydreamed over just such a postcard sitting in a windowless Wall Street cubicle for several years. Friends had traveled here and shared stories of the drama of the roads and the beauty of the landscapes. Now, it's our turn to see it …. but NOT behind a wheel!
Granted the trip here was un-nerving (and a little embarrassing) but we're photographers, i.e. people who take pictures - a lot - and you can't drive the Amalfi Coast and shoot it at the same time - it's an impossibility. So, we got the rental agency in Naples to come collect that mediocre Fiat, and we followed the example of a dear, dear friend … we hired a car to drive us along the coast and in to the hills. We would never have seen so much of the coast and its beauty if we had both been watching the road.
Our driver, whose name is Alex, speaks five languages and is learning Arabic as well. He asked what we wanted to see, made some suggestions and then let us free to photograph and enjoy on our own - perfect. We saw the most amazing views from the terrace of the Hotel San Pietro (the #1 hotel in Europe for the last four years, according to Alex), we were given a tour of a ceramics shop by the owner, we stopped at the Emerald Grotto (more about that later), we spent an hour in the square of Amalfi, and we enjoyed lunch and wine in the mountain village of Ravello. A nearly perfect day … …. ….
The Emerald Grotto is not far from Positano and is easily accessible by elevator. Once at sea-level, entry to the grotto costs 5 Euro per person. You enter the grotto with the Mediterranean lapping at your feet and suddenly you're in the cool darkness of this cave filled with very tall ceilings and filled with a lake of tidal waters. There were very few people here which was one of the attractions - in fact, there were only eight of us in this perfectly rectangular flat-bottomed boat. Our guide was a young, very flirtatious dark-haired Italian who took a liking to the two young American girls he placed in the front seat. We climbed onboard without incident although my camera swung out of my jacket as I tried to climb over the seats we were to sit on, giving me pause. In this darkness and on the water, my camera would be useless, so I packed it more securely inside my jacket and sat back to enjoy the ride.
The grotto is small so the tour was short, despite the young Italian trying to make it longer in order to snag a date, but within about 15-20 minutes we were back where we started. After the Italians in the stern disembarked, it was Peter's turn and as he was bent over climbing over the last seat we heard it … the awful sound of something being dropped in to water. The "driver" thought it was a lens cap … I knew better, so did Peter … it was his brand-new and beloved GoPro and the short tripod it was attached to. Once he got off, Peter turned and could see the camera about two meters underwater. The good news is that it's in a waterproof case, the bad news is waves were cresting the rocks we stood on and a large tour group of about twenty had just queued up to have their turn in the boats in the grotto. I rescued Peter's camera bag which was getting wet on the grotto floor, took the vest he was wearing that held several cameras as well, and exited to the rocky shoreline to wait. I knew Peter wouldn't leave that grotto without the camera and/or one heck-of-a-try.
As I sat just outside the grotto, the seas sent larger and larger waves to the shore and I had to move twice to avoid standing or sitting in water. I knew this didn't bode well for Peter. I had seen two other flat-bottomed boats inside, so I knew that the tours could go on, and I thought this couldn't be the first time this had happened. Finally, after what seemed like an interminable amount of time but in fact was only 20 minutes, Peter appeared with a strained smile on his face and GoPro in hand. What were his first words …. ? "Darn, I wish the camera had been on … it was looking straight up at me!" Apparently it had taken 50-60 attempts to capture the camera with a broom and a net that had a large hole in it, but at the end of the day, Peter prevailed … as I knew he would. He later told me he had been prepared to go in and get it if he'd had to … he could see it, he just couldn't reach it, but once again … a happy ending.
Alex returned us to our hotel at about 5:30 p.m. happy and exhausted and knowing we'd never have seen so much on our own, driving and parking along the way. Too tired for dinner downstairs, we enjoyed antipasti in the room and were both sound asleep well before 10:00 p.m.
The Balcony at Hotel Eden Roc in Positano, Italy.
Early Morning Blue Hour from the Balcony, Positano, Italy
Breakfast on the Balcony at Eden Roc
Venice from the Water © 2012 Peter Tooker
After twelve days in Venice, we bid this beautiful city a fond "arividerci" early this morning, taking a water taxi to the stazione for our train to Rome. Mario, the night desk clerk at our locanda, kindly helped us get our luggage down the three flights of stairs (that we will not miss) and around the corner to the Bridge of Sighs where the taxi was waiting for us. How appropriate, as I in fact did sigh as I watched the now familiar city diminish into the distance.
We were pleasantly surprised when we saw the train that would carry us to Rome over the next three and a half to four hours. It was modern, sleek, and very clean, the complete opposite of the train that had brought us to Venice. Our luggage relay was a little rusty after not having been used for almost two weeks, but we persevered. Peter went on ahead with the "big, black monster", a.k.a. his suitcase, and was able to tuck it under a compact luggage rack at the center of the train. He returned to the platform for my suitcase, and I continued to watch over our precious camera cases. Finally the "hand luggage" and I were loaded, and Peter and I found our seats - two facing each other, with a table in between, on the sunny side of the train. We dozed early on and then took in the amazing Tuscan countryside. What I saw outside our window looked just like all of those travel posters and postcards, so they must have been real.
Our transfer in Rome to a train heading for Naples was fairly uneventful. By now, we know that there's very little space for large bags, so time is of the essence when the doors open for boarding. In Rome, our train was late arriving and had passengers who had to disembark before we could get on. Poor Peter was blocked from starting our relay by an American couple who were getting off the train with as much luggage as we have. Finally, once they had cleared the doorway, Peter scrambled on board with bag "in hand" and seemed to disappear for an awfully long time. When he leaped off the other end of the coach, I learned that he'd had to "run a gauntlet" with the "big, black monster", the entire length of the train car to find the luggage racks at the other end chockablock full with small carry-on cases. The owners of these cases looked at their cases and then at Peter's monster, took pity on him, and quickly removed their bags to the overhead bins. We hoisted everything else on board, placed most of it in the racks above our heads, and dropped into our window seats panting, thanking the dear Lord, that we only have to do this one more time.
Now for the driving part of our story ….
In Naples, we rented a car to get us to Positano. Peter fondly remembers driving across Europe and in Italy back in the 70s in a late-60s BMW - loving the speed and hairpin turns. Well the manual Fiat Punto Evo we rented is no BMW! The gear box is soft, the brakes are tight, and the steering is a little sloppy, all things Peter will have to come to terms with over the next several days. As many of you know, the Italians are not long on discipline when it comes to going from Point A to Point B whether in a car, on a scooter, or on foot. Lines on the roads are meaningless, cross walks were created to be ignored, and traffic lights need to be obeyed only if the polizia are watching … or so it seemed to us. The roundabout just outside the train station nearly did us in, but we eventually found our way to the A3 South. Aahhhhh …. a highway. We thought this would be a welcome change to the congested city traffic. Well it quickly became apparent that those on the highway love speed about as much as they cherish their independence. Peter found a comfortable "stride" for this leg of the trip, which quickly made him feel like he was standing still - a feeling most men, mine in particular, would rather not feel. As we were exceeding the speed limits by 10kph, other cars were speeding up to our rear end bumper, abruptly changing lanes, honking, and rapidly roaring off into the distance leaving us with the distinct impression that we had been in their way. Surely, we thought we'd be able to relax when the city and highway were behind us.
The highway heading toward Sorrento undulates along the coastal mountains, rising above some villages and sloping down to seaside towns. The view across the Gulf of Naples, back toward the city, was breathtaking. The bright blue waters sparkled in the foreground and the mountains stood out distinctly in the distance. We had heard stories of the winding roads along the Amalfi Coast, with traffic jam ups with tourist buses, but we were sailing along with one in front of us, one behind, and a number of them passing us easily going in the other direction. We were feeling more comfortable with the car and the roads were well marked, directing us toward Sorrento and then on to Positano. This is the last leg of this day's travels and we were looking forward to arriving in this place I'd dreamt of seeing for so many years.
If the roads to Sorrento are winding, the roads to Positano are just plain treacherous. The lanes became narrower, the climbs became steeper, and the Italians became more dangerous. Upcoming hairpin turns were announced in degrees - 1 degree, to my mind, was really 359 degrees because we ended up practically where we began but on another level. We took the road turn-for-turn and were glad to finally see Positano in the distance.
Parked cars and scooters line the narrow streets of Positano, and pedestrians amble in the streets because there are very few sidewalks. As we were beginning to think we'd made it, we saw the nose of a very large tour bus pull around a corner. As it advanced toward us, Peter pulled close to the building on our right but found our nose about to hit a metal sign post. The bus had stopped because he couldn't advance without hitting us and the driver began signing us to backup. There were only inches left between us and the bus, and it was wedged in between the corner of a building and our car. Peter tried and tried to get the car into reverse, as the bus driver looked down on us with a grin. Scooters were weaving between the bus and us, honking their annoyance as they passed. Pedestrians stood dangerously close to the back of our car, as if they couldn't possibly be hit by this obvious tourist. Finally, the good-natured bus driver climbed down from his perch, leaned into our car and lifted the stick shift, showing us how to get it in to reverse. Greatly relieved yet grossly embarrassed, Peter got the car into reverse, backed up several yards and pulled tight against the flat side of a building. Another kind swarthy Italian now directed traffic, signaling to Peter which way to turn his wheels, waving one scooter passed after another, advising pedestrians to get out of the way, and then bidding the tour bus goodbye. The bottleneck broken, everyone continued on their way - another disaster averted.
Eden Roc is on the east side of Positano and I can honestly say I have never been greeted anywhere as warmly as we were here. This hotel is half way up the edge of the mountain, overlooking the Mediterranean, and has a single car pull-in just next to the front door. Happily we exited the car, dreading having to find a parking place for it for the night, but right after his "Bona sera", the manager advised us that they would see the car to a garage and all of our bags to our room - what welcome words those were. Within minutes of arriving at the front desk, we were on our flower lined balcony, gazing out at my picture-postcard view of Positano and the Mediterranean, sipping a complementary glass of champagne. We'd made it and just as the day was ending.
Having only eaten peanuts and cookies all day, an early dinner in the hotel restaurant was in order. Carlo couldn't have been kinder, recommending local wine to accompany our prosciutto & melon, homemade minestrone soup, grilled prawns, and fritto misto. He even brought the last of the wine, Peter's grappa and handmade chocolates to our room, so we could enjoy the end of the day on our balcony, which we did.
Positano, Italy
Burano is one of the Northern Islands of Venice known for its brightly colored houses. Local tradition says that the bright colors used to enable each fisherman to identify his house from the sea but now it's just for the pleasant effect. Burano is so obviously a living community with grandparents, children, and dogs all calling out and barking at each other across the campo (square).
Reflections on Burano
We were on this charming island on a bright sunny day which was dazzling, but Peter and I wished it was a foggy day - the kind in which bright colors stand out so beautifully - but the sun didn't deter us from snapping left and right all of the new colorful sights. As we left the group and walked east, the crowds thinned and we could appreciate what a special island this is.
Burano Church Tower
Neighbors carry on conversations between houses, a friend was called away from his newspaper to help reach something caught on a line, and the familiar scales of a piano lesson resounded off the walls of the nearby church tower, which was leaning and looming over the neighborhood.
Open Doorway in Burano
Doors and windows were all open to the cobblestone walkways, and I found it particularly entertaining in this exceptionally colorful environment to have caught a glimpse of two young women chatting in an all-white kitchen - white floor and ceiling, white cabinets and counters, and white appliances.
A Bright Happy House on Burano
Over loaded with color our group slowly found its way to a large square and collected a group of tables together to enjoy the afternoon sun and some local wine. An hour later we were back on the Vaporetto taking us back to Piazza San Marco via Murano. The trip took an hour but the warm breeze off the water relaxed us all as we took in the setting sun across the lagoon's waters.
Leaving Burano
Peter and I are in Venice for a holiday, to celebrate his birthday, AND for a week long "photography adventure" called Venice Within the Frame. David duChemin and Jeffrey Chapman are two humantitarian photographers who, for two to three years now, have been running week long "workshops" at various locations around the world. On average there are 10 participants and the group enjoys the companionship of other like-minded individuals, sharing their perspectives and images, and learning from one another as well as the "teachers". I'll write more about this later, but for now I'm sharing these two images with you that I need to decide between for sharing with the group this morning. Please, let me know, ... which do you prefer, and, if you're inclined, tell me why!
... to my wonderful husband! Together in Venice and so easily entertained.
Peter & Me Together in Venice
Peter & Me Reflecting on Venice
Murano, Italy
After a wonderful night sleep, Peter and I made plans to visit two of the northern islands today - Murano and Burano. Murano is known for its glass-blowing industry and Burano is known for its colorful houses, but first … Peter wanted to bet on the Kentucky Derby which was going to run late this afternoon (EDT). Challenges lay ahead. First, access to the internet is spotty at best here, and second, when you're on the internet everything is VERY slow. It took Peter all morning to place only $3.00 of bets, which left both of us frustrated and cranky, for different reasons. With an agreement to return to the hotel by 5:00 p.m. so he could resume his betting efforts, Peter and I headed out to see the islands. The owner of our "hostel", Giuliano, recommended we walk north to the northern coast of Cannaregio to pick up the 41/42 Vaporetti to Murano, and then later to take the 14 (formerly known as 13 and changed for no known reason) to Burano. He said we could easily pick up a 14 to return us to Piazza San Marco.
We set off and quickly knew we were not on the path Giuliano had recommended but we were happy to be discovering more of Venice. Under normal circumstances I would consult my watch and the sun to determine if we were at least walking in the right direction, but the "streets" are often only narrow passage ways, only two people-wide, and the walls are high, so it's impossible to take your bearings on the sun. We eventually saw signs for the Hospital, which was one of the landmarks, Giuliano suggested we use to find our way, and once we skirted Campo Santi Giovanni e Paolo, we could see the Canal and islands in the distance.
We boarded a 41 around 2:00 p.m. feeling accomplished and hungry, and looking forward to a good lunch on Murano, but events would unfold differently. The 41 comes FROM Murano and travels west and south heading for the Grand Canal. It took several stops before I could convince Peter that, in fact, Murano was getting further away and we, in fact, were turning south, away from this northern island. We got off at the next stop and hopped on a 42 heading in the opposite direction. As always we weren't terribly disturbed about seeing new parts of this complex city of islands, but we were also seeing time eaten away.
Lunch was now our next order of business and my Rough Guide said that Busa Alla Torre was the best place to eat on the island … it also said it stopped serving lunch at 3:00 p.m., an hour that was rapidly approaching. Dashing off the Vaporetto, along the cobblestone path running parallel to the canal, and over two bridges, we arrived breathless and hungry in the Campo just before closing.
Rain was threatening by now - you could smell it in the air - but we ate outside under large umbrellas in spite. Pino Grigio was a fine complement to our Gnocchi with Salmon, Four Cheese Ravioli and a large mixed green salad. Over coffee, we re-ordered our itinerary once more and agreed that, given the hour - approaching 4:00 p.m. - Burano would have to be saved for another day.
The waiters were now breaking down the tables, chairs and umbrellas around us. The square that had been half filled now had only three remaining tables, one occupied by a couple and their very gregarious and energetic daughter who was happily chasing and feeding the pigeons, one occupied by a group of five uniformed Carabinieri enjoying a coffee break, and one occupied by us. Peter decided to visit "the Gents" before moving on and as he was getting up, his foot caught the edge of the table, toppling the water glasses and soaking me in the process. The waiters provided me with napkins to dry off with and Peter continued on. When he returned his expression struck me as very odd. Once on the far side of the square, Peter fessed up and sheepishly explained that he was "taking care of business" when the door to his stall opened, and there, of all things, was the female Carabinieri. With embarrassment all around, she pulled the door shut and moved on. Peter successfully locked the stall door now only to hear mother and child trying to open it. As he left the stall, the gregarious little girl boldly, clearly, and repeatedly informed Peter, "You're in the wrong room! You're in the wrong room!" It wasn't until he looked over his shoulder as he exited the room that he caught that ever-familiar figure with a skirt tucked in the corner next to the door.
Murano Glass
Another adventure behind us, we walked along the canal peering in all of the shops with the beautiful Murano glass. Suddenly, my iPhone announced that I'd received a text message, and I had a brief exchange with a good friend from home. It seemed hard to believe that I could be walking this small island in Italy and have the ability to text half way around the world … I do love technology.
There was a rainbow to the south when we were returning to San Marco, clearly indicating that there had been heavy rain somewhere, just not where we had been - yeah! It was a little before 6:00 p.m. when Peter returned to the computer to place his bets for the Derby. "Expletive deleteds" darted through the air as absolutely nothing was working for him. Finally, he decided to go to an Internet Cafe around the corner to see if they have better access to the internet. It's there that he learned that the Italian government was standing in his way. The man who runs the cafe told Peter that the Italian government prohibits access to these gambling sights, and showed him a list specifically naming the sight he was now trying to get to. Frustrated AND defeated, Peter climbed the three stories of stairs wishing life could be a lot easier.
Piazza San Marco
Today is the day before the full moon when the moon rises before the sun sets and we could capture it in a well-lit landscape, or in this case seascape. We have been excited about this for months, imagining what it would be like to see the nearly-full moon rise out of the sea right next to the Isola di San Giorgio Maggiore. Clouds nearly dashed all of our hopes. A large cloud bank hung on the horizon when we got to the Piazza, which was teaming with tourists still. Undeterred we re-focused our attention on the lagoon, the gondolas, and the magnificent buildings around us, and then … drum-roll please … the biggest, brightest moon I've ever seen appeared half-covered with clouds - clouds that very quickly drifted away. The moon now shone brightly in the sky and its light danced upon the waters. We couldn't capture the images fast enough.
The trials of the day seemed to be fading as we ecstatically photographed everything around us, Peter on one end of the waterfront and me on the other. Suddenly a young man with a camera around his neck was talking to me, speaking in very broken English. He was pointing to the bridge, where some woman was waving to us. I thought he might want me to take his picture, but he made no movements toward that end, he just continued to point to the bridge, saying the word bridge. I asked him what language he spoke, because I thought we might be able to communicate in French. He answered "English" which was obviously not the case. I decided to turn my back on him and return to my tripod and "shooting the moon". I thought nothing further about him.
Framing one image, I decided I had to move a foot to the left and I did, after which a young blond guy came up behind me and firmly poked me in the shoulder. I turned and saw him standing several feet behind me with a tripod, so I assumed I might have stepped into his shot. I apologized noting that I had no idea he was there. I continued to take pictures when suddenly, this young blond man, now wearing round glasses, came up right next to me and placed his tripod so its leg crossed mine. It was painfully apparent to me that either he desperately wanted to stand where I was standing for his picture, or these three people were somehow trying to run a "scam" on me - to separate me from some or all of my equipment. I relinquished my spot to the blond and quickly found Peter shooting in front of the gondolas. He heard my story and approached the woman of the group who was now on the waterfront with a tripod. As she was denying any wrong doing, the two guys approached to hear the exchange. Peter withdrew and very soon thereafter these three were no where to be seen. When I asked Peter what he'd said, he said I could hear it first hand when we watched what was recorded on the Go-Pro strapped to his chest. Perhaps that was the incentive for them to leave so quickly.
A little disheartened, I told Peter I was done for the night and we returned to our room to see the images we'd captured. A smile returned to my heart when I saw that we'd not only captured the moon rising over lagoon but we also got blue hour in Piazza San Marco - for us … once in a lifetime events.
Full Moon Over the Lagoon in Venice
Buona notte!
There was a full moon over Venice less than 24 hours ago and 24 hours before that we were prepared to capture its rise before the sun went down ... on the waterfront at the Piazza San Marco in Venice. We thought all was lost when the clouds rolled in and didn't leave all afternoon. Even as moonrise approached, the bank of clouds to the southeast seemed determined to undermine our hopes ... and then, the biggest and brightest moon I think I've ever seen peaked above a large fluffy cumulus cloud, shedding light across the lagoon straight to my feet. Peter and I were thrilled, and the more our excitement mounted, the faster the clouds seemed to disappear. "Pinch me! Can I truly be in Venice, watching the light from a full moon dance on the waters of Venice?" The waters of the lagoon were constantly moving as the vaporetti, taxis, and other boats created waves in their wake. At blue hour, the gondolas at the base of Piazza San Marco were all tied up and tarped for the night, and they too danced on the waters as the waves lapped the shore.
This is our postcard to you - of the full moon in May over Venice.
Zimmat River at Blue Hour - Zurich
Peter and I are on another adventure to celebrate two significant birthdays this year (one for him and one for me), and we're going to share "postcards" with you along the way.
View from Our Balcony in Zurich
First stop Zurich, Switzerland. It's been a beautiful, warm and sunny spring day here and, as usual, the first thing we did was get out on the water. Lake Zurich is huge with Zurich at the north end and the snow capped mountains to the south, and the fresh air banished any remaining cobwebs we may have had after the eight hour flight over. The last time I was here (on business in the early 80s) it was winter and bitterly cold. This time every thing is lush green and the warm spring air is ever so welcoming.
Lake Zurich © 2012 Claudia Ward
After an hour and a half boat ride, we ambled into the old town and found a lovely restaurant called Swiss Chuchi at the Hotel Adler where we enjoyed cheese fondue and white wine on the cobblestones under the darkening evening sky. Everyone was out enjoying the evening air and each other. Zurich strikes us as a very friendly and happy city.
Zimmat River Zurich © 2012 Claudia Ward
The walk back to our hotel on the other side of the Limmat River was spectacular. There was no breeze to speak of and the river was the perfect reflecting mirror for this beautiful city and we were lucky to be able to capture a few images in the blue hour. Tomorrow we take our tripods - this is just too good to miss, although resting our cameras on the concrete walls that run along the river seemed to do the job.
Zimmat River After Dusk - Zurich, Switzerland
