Open Window

Martha's Vineyard

Martha's Vineyard became one of our favorite places when we landed here by chance in June 2009. It is an island just south of Cape Cod in Massachusetts with a land area of 100 square miles making it the 58th largest island in the U.S. and the third-largest on the East Coast after Long Island and Mount Desert Island in Maine.

There are six towns on Martha's Vineyard and we touched each one the very first day (by car):

Picturesque Edgartown, in the East, which includes the infamous Chappaquiddick (of Ted Kennedy fame) and Katama, is the island's largest town, and is known for its rich whaling history.

Oak Bluffs, where we always stay, includes the East Chop peninsula. Its known for its gingerbread cottages, open harbor, and bustling Circuit Avenue.

Tisbury, in the North, includes the main village of Vineyard Haven, the West Chop peninsula, and is the island's primary port of entry for people and cargo.

West Tisbury is the island's agricultural center. 

Chilmark, in the West, has the hilliest terrain, is very rural, and includes the quaint fishing village of Menemsha.

Aquinnah, is the last stop of the East wind on the island, home of the Wampanoag Indian tribe, the beautiful clay cliffs, and "Gay Head" light.

Here are a few trivia highlights about Martha's Vineyard that I didn't know:

• The first native American graduates from Harvard came from Martha’s Vineyard.
• Three of Spielberg’s "Jaws" movies were filmed on Martha's Vineyard.
• John Belushi is buried in Abel's Hill Cemetery in Chilmark on MV.
• Three U.S. Presidents have vacationed on Martha's Vineyard, Ulysses S. Grant, Bill Clinton and, most recently, Barack Obama stayed in Chilmark on the Blue Heron Farm.
• In the television show The X-Files, Fox Mulder's parents live on Martha's Vineyard.
• Today the Vineyard, as it is affectionately called, is a destination for some 60,000 tourists each summer keeping the 15,000 permanent residents busy and off the main roads during the summer season.

I couldn't resist making a slide show of some of my snaps of Martha's Vineyard. I hope you enjoy it.

Photos & Slide Show © 2018 Claudia Ward
Music: "Cocktails for Two" by Carmen Cavallaro from "Small Town Crooks"

 

 

Provincetown

Provincetown is unique in so many ways.

Geographically at the very end of Cape Cod, Provincetown was the original Cape Cod, given the name by Bartholomew Gosnold in 1602 because of the abundance of fish found in its waters. The name was later adopted for the entire peninsula which became a bridged island with the completion of the Cape Cod Canal in 1914. 

Fishing has been at the heart of Provincetown's economy since the beginning and its protected harbor was and is unique along New England's coastline. Following the Revolution, Provincetown grew rapidly as a fishing and whaling center. "During the latter half of the nineteenth century, Provincetown was the richest town per capita in Massachusetts, with 54 long wharves, a mackerel fleet, ... and 56 whaling ships; at times, there were 700 ships crowded into the harbor, ...  - Provincetown’s Golden Era." 

By the 1890s, Provincetown had a small resident population of writers and artists, and summer tourism had begun. As the artist colony and experimental theater developed, so did the gay community in Provincetown which became significant by the 1970s, especially in the summer season. In 1978, the Provincetown Business Guild was created to promote gay tourism ... and the rest is history. "Today more than 200 businesses belong to the PBG, and Provincetown is perhaps the best-known gay summer resort on the East Coast."

All of that adds color, and charm to this small town - the fabric of which P'town is made, and this simply complements the 17 plus square miles of sandy land surrounded by 21 plus miles of coastline. The entire coastline of Cape Cod was preserved as a National Park by John F. Kennedy in 1961 and Race Point in P'town is a place that should be seen.

I grew up on Cape Cod and was visiting P'town on "Sunday drives" when I was young, enjoying the novelty of being surrounded so closely by so much water and of course the New England "narrow street" charm. One or two summers, I ventured forth in the '70s to see the hippies et al, but it's now that I truly appreciate the beauty and uniqueness of P'town.

The breakwater, built in 1911 to protect the harbor from the dune's shifting sands is a photographer's dream, at any tide. The lighthouses, small streets, and Red Inn are picturesque,

and, of course, Pilgrim Tower oversees it all, built to commemorate the Pilgrims' landing here, before moving on to less sandy shores.

 

"The Best Laid Schemes O' Mice an' Men"

"Gang aft a-gley," [often go awry]
                                        (From Robert Burns' poem To a Mouse, 1786)

Our Unoccupied Booth Space - St. Petersburg Fine Art Festival 2015

With our sights on Florida, Peter and I left Bridgehampton on January 19th with the primary objective of participating in two juried art shows into which I'd been accepted late last year. Canvases, prints and framed giclée images were all carefully wrapped in moving blankets and secured to the shelves and walls that had been built out for us by Peter's cousin in our new Homesteader trailer, called "Challenger". Buckets of bungee cords held not only the art in place but also all of the tent materials, tools, tables, and bins. We felt confident that we were as prepared as we could be for our launch into the circuit. Our secondary objective was to spend a week in Rincon Puerto Rico with friends who rent a condominium there each year, and where I would be able to photograph more waves for our expanding inventory of images. These were our best laid plans.

Sadly, the first objective could not be met as Peter hurt his back just before we left and just couldn't lift, carry, bend or twist at all. Following an out-patient vertebroplasty procedure on his spine in Lakeland where a sister lives, the doctor and Peter agreed that the planned trip to Puerto Rico could come to pass as long as he didn't get wet ... even a little. The result of this part of our journey wasn't easy on Peter but did result in my getting some of the best wave images ever - something we could never have planned.

Our itinerary originally called for us to leave Florida to head home on February 16 but weather all along the East coast kept us hunkered down in chilly Florida for another seven days. On the 23rd, we saw a small break in the weather patterns, re-hitched the trailer to our car and set off for the snowy frozen north. A trip that should normally take a comfortable two and a half days took us five and a half thanks to the tail-end of winter storm Quantum and roaring Remus that nailed a good portion of the south and held us in place just south of the snow/rain line in Fayetteville NC for two nights. Gingerly heading toward Baltimore on Friday the 27th, we found the roads drier than expected and increasingly clear the further north we got. Finally, after forty days and forty nights, we returned our fully packed "Challenger" to its corner in our driveway to await the next two storms, Sparta and Thor, before we'll consider unloading its precious cargo.

As our key plans for participating in shows did go awry, we had to regroup and make the best of a bad situation. We attended four art festivals while we were in Florida and learned a lot, but we also enjoyed good food when we could, which is no surprise to anyone who knows us.  Peter had in our possession over four ounces of osetra caviar left over from the holidays which would be enjoyed somewhere along the trip - or so we hoped, perhaps an anniversary (25) or a birthday (??).  

Some of our greatest pleasure on this trip was enjoying meals in restaurants like Le Provençal in Coral Gables, Colombia in Ybor City, Bern's Steakhouse in Tampa, and a seafood shack near the beach in northern Florida that had wonderful steamed mussels with blue cheese and bacon! Another pleasure was sunrise at a few East coast Florida beaches that brought smiles to our hearts and made us forget the "schemes" that had gone awry.

Lessons learned? Be flexible, as "the best laid schemes o' mice an' men, Gang aft a-gley," [often go awry], so be prepared to "Seize the day"  ...  enjoy the moment.

Here's a slideshow showing how we did try to enjoy the moments we were in with patience, humor, and an appetite.

 

Photos & Slideshow ©2015 Claudia Ward

"Carpe diem"!

When Last We Met Our Hero ...

Peter has become quite familiar with the Watson Clinic in Lakeland. Since Monday the 26th, we have visited the clinic at least five times. We had to return after our first visit to get an ex-ray and later to get an MRI, which revealed an L-1 compression fracture for which the pain management doctor recommended an out-patient procedure known as vertebroplasty. We consulted with Peter's cardiologist in Manhattan, who gave the doctor here approval to proceed despite what appeared to be an abnormal EKG because it isn't abnormal for Peter. So the procedure was scheduled for Monday morning, the 2nd of February.

Set-up for the St. Petersburg Fine Art Festival was meant to start the preceding Friday around 10:00 a.m. but another executive decision was made to not participate. Peter's pain has just been too unpredictable and unmanageable. The good news is that the director of the festival agreed to apply 100% of the fees we paid for the St. Pete festival to another Paragon Festival that we're juried into in the future and there are two this coming summer that I've applied to, one in Southampton and one in Westhampton Beach. No money was lost on the hotel either, as I'd made the reservation directly with the hotel and it could be cancelled with no penalty up until 6:00 p.m. on our arrival date. Needless to say we're very disappointed we won't be participating, especially carrying a trailer of art on our backs all the way to Florida from the East End of Long Island but we vowed to attend this weekend and we did.

Sally, Peter and I drove to St. Petersburg early Saturday morning, targeting to be there around 9:00 a.m. which would be an hour before the festival was officially opening but also an hour when many of the artists would be opening their tents and fine-tuning their set-ups for the day to come. The difference between this festival and the one in Coral Gables was striking, despite this being only the second year that this festival has been held. The primary difference? Experience. This one is organized by a seasoned group who sponsor festivals on several sights in Florida, Texas, North Carolina, Virginia and in the Hamptons in New York state. It's was obviously well-run and the artists we spoke to said nothing but good things about the organizer, Bill Kinney. This show was set up in a beautiful little park right on the water in downtown St. Petersburg and we loved everything about it, especially the variety and caliber of the art. It made me feel very good to think I was selected to participate and optimistic about the future. Again we learned a lot, the details of which I will spare you this time. Lots of logistics especially after we saw the one space that was not occupied which we naturally assumed would have been ours.

Sunday we did errands and decided to make it special for us all by treating ourselves to lunch at Colombia in Ybor City, Tampa, the oldest restaurant in Florida (1905) and the largest Spanish restaurant in the world. Our repast was comprised of a variety of tapas that we shared including empanadas, albondigas (meatballs), coca de langosta (lobster flatbread), champiñones rellenos (stuffed mushrooms) and, of course, their legendary "1905" salad. It was all enjoyed with a tall pitcher of their sangria de cava. And, it wouldn't be a real treat without dessert so we shared Churros "Tres Amigos", a Spanish pastry dusted with cinnamon, served with warm chocolate, caramel and guava sauces - the three amigos!

For the first time in days, I saw a glimmer of pleasure in Peter's eyes.

The vertebroplasty happened early Monday morning at the Lakeland Regional Medical Center, another very efficient, modern medical operation in Lakeland. It went without a hitch and Peter declared that he was hungry for the first time in days. An appetite is always a good thing, right? There was still some discomfort in the area but he was able to move a lot more easily and the doctor said that could go to Puerto Rico but he just couldn't swim in the ocean or a pool during the whole trip because of concerns for possible infection. Needless to say, my husband, the fish, was sorely disappointed but he said he still wanted to go so we did.

The following morning we boarded a plane in Tampa bound for San Juan and then took a Cape Air "puddle jumper" from San Juan to Mayaguez. Peter traveled well with very little discomfort and he's sitting next to me as I write enjoying a sunny, warm, pain-free morning. He is my hero for enduring so much over the past two and a half weeks. We're both ever so thankful that the procedure seems to have worked and that he'll be able to resume normal activities relatively soon - in three months time. In the meantime, he's not supposed to lift more than 10 pounds, which is the weight of his MacBook Pro in its case. I'm glad I joined the YMCA early last fall as I'm going to be the family porter for the next 90 days. The good news is, he'll be able to "lift and carry" again just in time for the Spring and Summer art festival season on the East End.

 

Trials and Tribulations

A number of you are waiting with bated breath to hear news of our adventures so here's our update. Two days of R&R in Fayetteville was comfortable-ish. Peter had a heck of a time with his lower back pain and our hot and cold treatments worked and didn't with no predictability, but he said he could go on and we did, now targeting northern Florida as our next stopping point. Peter did well that day and we found a fun hotel on the beach for our final night before arriving in Coral Gables for the Festival of Arts. The good news through all of this is that Peter is able to sleep so he is getting rest. Day 5 dawned with a spectacular sunrise over the Atlantic after which our sights were set on Miami. 

We arrived at the Courtyard Marriott, only four blocks from the site of the festival, by mid-afternoon. For the first time since our departure, we emptied the car of all suitcases and boxes etc. We'd been living out of day bags, but now we needed clean, "new" clothes and all of my desk and charge card materials for the show. Once settled, Peter and I found a  branch of our bank where we got cash for the "register" for the next day's sales and then we walked the two blocks of Giralda where we expected to be setting up at 5:00 a.m. the next morning. Peter was walking gingerly and really didn't like the concrete sidewalk but said he was sure he'd be good to work the next morning.

NOT! Peter's pain continued and watching him simply try to sit or stand convinced me that an executive decision was needed and I made it. We would not participate in this show and we'd focus on getting him better for the next. He looked so relieved and in hind sight it was the best decision for so many reasons.

Peter took a long hot bath Saturday morning after which he rested. Feeling improved, he joined me walking down to the festival to see how it was set up and learn as much as we could, and we learned oodles. This is the very first year for this festival and it was apparent organization was lacking. First the layout of the festival was the mirror image of the schematic that had been provided before the show. We spoke to several artists and photographers, but one was especially informative and friendly - Grace Berge, a photographer from Santa Fe, New Mexico. She told us that the organizer in fact changed the layout of the festival the night before, and he didn't show up until 6:00 a.m. to mark the street with the booth numbers for the artists. That meant that a number of artists including Grace had to move not once but twice. What an infuriating fiasco that would have been.

Apparently there was also no real plan for parking, especially for larger rigs and cars towing trailers. Grace found a small car lot on Giralda and drove over the divider thus parking her car in one space and her trailer in another, and everyone refused to pay the $4 for parking.

Grace also told us that there had been no advertising for the festival and pointed out that there weren't even banners hanging in the neighborhood heralding the coming event. AND, the shopkeepers along these two blocks of Coral Gables hadn't been told that the street was going to be closed off for the entire weekend. They arrived stunned and dismayed which quickly turned to anger.

The crowds were paltry for the festival and those pedestrians who were ambling the street didn't look interested in art or food. There was supposed to be a $10 charge to enter the festival but we were just waved in when we approached from the west. We would have been truly aggravated if we'd paid to see this show. We felt very fortunate that, in fact, we were not participating - to do all that work with no commensurate reward would have been very frustrating, and we would never have been able to meet Grace and talk to her for close to an hour - an hour during which not one person stopped to truly peruse her beautiful images.

What did we talk about with Grace? "Shop"

Where did she find affordable digs? Air B&B.
How does she break down at the end of a show? Slightly expensive "bubble bags" from FrameDestination.com placed in large cartons that were perched on a trolley behind her tent safely draped with a waterproof tarp.
What does she do if she sells out of an image while on her 5-6 week road trip? Orders from Bay Photo.
How are Howard Alan shows? Well organized and not as stuffy as they sound.
What's been her best show this trip? Delray Beach the previous weekend.
How long has she been doing this? She started around Santa Fe last summer and this is her first time on the road. 
Does she like it? She said it's a little like being a "carny" and she likes it more and more.

At the end of the day we learned far more from not participating than we would have participating and what we learned will help with every show to come. More good news for us? Mario, the organizer, agreed to "refund" us our booth fee by applying it to next year's show - so it may not be a loss at all and right now we consider it well spent dollars on R&D (Research & Development). We also weren't charged for our last night in the hotel.

Now in central Florida with a sister, seeing physicians, and working hard to get Peter in shape for this coming weekend's show in St. Petersburg. Cross your fingers please.

Recuperating in Fayetteville NC

Hilton Garden Inn in Fayetteville NC

Originally we were told by the sponsor of the Miami/Coral Gables Festival of Arts that setup could begin on Friday morning for the Saturday and Sunday festival, but an update informed us that the city wouldn't allow for the streets to be closed until 3:00 a.m. on Saturday morning. So now setup cannot begin until 5:00 a.m. on the day of the festival! Given this we're now ahead of schedule and decided to slow down a little.

For day two we planned a five hour driving day and set our sights on Fayetteville NC. We checked with Trip Advisor and their #1 choice for a hotel in Fayetteville is the Hilton Garden Inn and when Peter saw that they have a room with a jacuzzi tub in the bedroom he was sold. Poor Peter really hurt his back lifting and moving the trailer before we left. He is critical to our operation as there is no way I can erect our 8 -10 foot tall tent without him so we agreed to spend two nights at the Hilton Garden Inn. They also have an indoor pool and hot tub, all of which could help with the "hot therapy" for his back. For cold therapy, we have a block of frozen ice cubes in a baggy which works but we were really wishing for a bag of frozen peas. We asked at the front desk if there's a market nearby that we could walk to, because we do NOT want to move the trailer which is happily parked under flood lights at the back of the Inn. Apparently there is one but crossing the road to get there could be deadly. The desk clerk asked what we needed and when she heard it was just a bag of frozen peas and why we needed them, she immediately started texting her manager who was on his way in to work. She told us she'd call us in our room if she got through to him. Next thing we knew, the phone rang and she informed us that one small bag of frozen peas was being kept cold for us in the refrigerator in the Pavilion Pantry adjacent to the front desk. I asked what we owed for the peas and they would accept no reimbursement. The customer service in this Inn truly makes you feel at home.

So today is a rest day and we'll spend it doing some laundry and alternating spells between the frozen bag of peas and one or more of the hot water pools/tubs. We need "Humpty-Dumpty" back together again, and ready to roll. Saturday is fast approaching.

Please think positive thoughts for us, they're predicting rain for Saturday morning in Coral Gables. Ouch, setup in the rain - one of my worst nightmares!

On the Road Again

Well we're off, for better or for worse, heading to Florida to participate in two art festivals. We did one on Shelter Island last summer, renting a U-Haul truck, erecting our brand new 10'x10'x10' tent, and doing our best to make it look like a small gallery. We made several sales and made over $1,000 in just one day. It was a LOT of work but very rewarding, and the people involved are incredibly encouraging and supportive. So we applied to several shows in Florida for this winter and were accepted at two, the Miami/Coral Gables Festival of Arts Jan 24-25, 2015 and the St. Petersburg Art Festival Jan 31 - Feb 1, 2015.

Since the summer, we sold my mini-cooper, leased a Suburu Outback (rigged with a trailer hitch), and bought a 5'x8' Challenger Homesteader trailer. Peter's cousin built out the inside of the trailer to accommodate large pieces of art, boxes of matted images, and all of the equipment, which includes but is not limited to: the tent, tables, trolleys, chairs, a ladder, weights, and lots and lots of tools. It took two days to pack the trailer and we hit the road yesterday.

Neither of us had slept well Sunday night, each of us having his/her own torturous nightmares. We'd originally planned on leaving Sunday but icy road conditions kept us at home, and thankfully so - there was a 38-car pile up on the Jersey Turnpike and over 400 accidents all over the northeast that day. No wonder our sleep was fitful. The good news? Monday was a national holiday, Martin Luther King Day, so the traffic would be lighter than usual, and it was. We made it to Brooklyn (avoiding all Parkways - trailers are prohibited), over the windless Verranzano Bridge, across Staten Island, and into New Jersey in 2½ hours, where we stopped to take a deep breath and recuperate some before continuing on the journey south. Our objective for this first day was to make it just beyond Washington DC, so we could avoid the Beltway in rush hour on a real work-day, and we met our objective. Twelve hours after putting our feet on the floor that morning, we were tucked into a Best Western in Dale City, Virginia. Happy to have day one behind us.

We both think we learned a lot on this "longest day". Driving this trailer is very manageable in good weather, and we'll set off on day two rested and far more confident than day one. We'll keep you posted (no pun intended) on how this adventure unfolds.

Gators & Eagles & Crabs ... Oh My!

Soaring Bald Eagle ©2014 Claudia Ward

I've finally found some time to process a few images from our time around the waters of Hilton Head, SC last month. I would never have imagined that I'd see so much wild life around this island resort but once I looked at the map I should not have been surprised. The Pinckney Island National Wildlife Reserve is a sizeable island wedged between Hilton Head and the mainland. In addition, there are rivers crossing many of the private living communities and these are populated with beautiful shore birds, alligators, and even crabs. The latter two may not be very pretty but it was fun catching a glimpse of them - up only so close and personal.

Alligator © 2014 Claudia Ward

Crab © 2014 Claudia Ward

Before we arrived, our hostess asked if we'd be interested in taking a two hour boat tour of the rivers and estuaries around Hilton Head. Peter and I love getting on the water and agreed immediately. The day was selected, the boat and captain reserved, and payment was made. When the morning broke, late-Winter temperatures were still upon us rather than the warm Spring-like weather we'd hoped for. But undeterred, we donned our blue jeans, turtlenecks and wind-breakers hoping this would ward off any real chill.

Bald Eagle © 2014 Claudia Ward

Not! Despite the bright skies, the brisk north wind rushing across winter-cold waters chilled us all to the bone but we were still intent upon seeing as much of the wild life and landscapes of the estuaries around Hilton Head as possible. Focusing on taking pictures helped but I wasn't very optomistic about what the results would be given the motion of the boat, the winds and my frozen fingers. I'm here to report however that I've been pleasantly surprised. We saw several pods of dolphins - the fin-photos of which I found quite uninspiring; however, we came upon an eagle perched atop a pile of oysters, eyeing a bothersome egret and soon there after they were off. The chase and skirmish were all too quick but I fortunately trained my camera on the eagle and look what I was able to capture.

Soaring Bald Eagle II ©2014 Claudia Ward

 

Open Window's Fourth Year

Open-Window is now four years old. It's so hard to believe ... time has passed so quickly. This has been a year of change for Open-Window and me. Open-Window continues to focus on Photography, Travel and Food with posts now several times a month rather than several times a week. As much as I love writing, and especially love writing posts for Open-Window, priorities shifted last January when I started to photograph waves. Since then, I have shown my wave images in several galleries, sold several favorites, and created Claudia Ward Photography to showcase the stars. This is truly exciting and I'll continue to share this photographic journey with you here on Open-Window, along with more recipes, travel suggestions, and general observations of life in our neck of the woods.

This year began with a visit to friends in Rincon, Puerto Rico which is where anyone could find me in the water photographing waves. It was wonderful, warm and very rewarding.

In the spring, Peter and I joined Valérie Jardin for her photography workshop in Normandy. Valérie is a Minnesota-based photographer, originally from Normandy, who I have followed for several years on the internet and now have finally met (not unlike Barbara Andolsek, the painter from California).  

Art shows and a gallery opening in Chatham, on Cape Cod, all featuring my wave images, consumed most of my time from early spring to fall.

By late September, Peter and I hit the road again on what became a 30-day road trip along the northern New England coast up to and around Nova Scotia. We were so fortunate to have the time to spend two full weeks in Nova Scotia which may be Canada's second smallest but it's still pretty big and it deserves as much time as anyone can give it. Stunning at every turn, with incredibly beautiful beaches.

Our timeshare on Paradise Island gave me the opportunity to try to photograph the Bahamian stormy seas in November.

Then Christmas was on the west coast this year, where my nephew and his wife reside in Irvine. With that holiday behind us, we packed our car with all our gear and my younger sister, and spent several days enjoying the spectacular beauty of this coast on our way north to San Francisco. Pacific waves have a character all their own - proving that, in fact, all ocean waves are not alike. Small shore breaks in Newport Beach proved themselves to be equally as fascinating to me as the giant rollers that pushed themselves shoreward on the Monterey Peninsula.

Here, as a small token of my appreciation, is a slide show highlighting the events of the 2013, from Puerto Rico to Nova Scotia, from Normandy to the California Coast. 

 

Photos and Slide Show © Claudia Ward
Music: Mendelssohn - Italian Symphony (1st Movement), Apollo Symphony Orchestra

 

I sincerely hope you enjoy it and thank you so much for your continued support. Please stay tuned.

San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge

Golden Gate Bridge from Baker Beach © 2014 Claudia Ward

No matter where we were on our New Year's visit to San Francisco, the Golden Gate Bridge seemed ever present. Peter and I had both been to San Francisco a number of times over the years but never together and never with such a fervent desire to photograph the Golden Gate bridge. We've taken the easy tourist shots but had never sought out the distinctly beautiful vantage points in the Marin Headlands, the middle of San Francisco Bay, at Fort Point, or west of the bridge, on Baker Beach. We've admired the images of photographers who have shot from these locations and now wanted to see what we could come away with if we found these places too.

Golden Gate Silhouette © 2013 Claudia Ward

Our first glimpse of this magnificent bridge was from the ferry that shuttled us across San Francisco Bay to and from Sausalito. We were heading there for lunch, so the sun was high in the sky bathing everything in its bright white light. The result was the bridge stood out against a bright white-washed sky in subtle gray relief, impressing us with it's span from shore to shore.

San Francisco and the Golden Gate from the Marin Headlands
© 2013 Claudia Ward

My younger sister, who was traveling with us, had never visited San Francisco and I so wanted her to leave with great shots of this city and its bridge, so I beseached our cousin, who lives nearby, to drive us over the bridge to the Marin Headlands for sunset ... and he agreed. High up in those hills, we found a ridge to shoot from that had the sun setting to our right, and the city coming to life in lights beyond the bridge at our feet. We were thrilled with our New Year's Eve perspective of San Francisco and would probably have begged to stay longer if it weren't for the tugging of our dinner reservation and the late show of Beach, Blanket, Babylon!

So far, we'd shot the bridge from the water and from the Marin Headlands at twilight, and we all were quite happy, and then it happened ... a snow storm in the northeast cancelled our flight back to New York for another two days. I was thrilled and hoped we'd be able to photograph the bridge from some of the southern vantage points I'd researched. Fighting this winter's "bug", Peter rose to the occasion and agreed to hire a car and driver to drive us to the locations we wanted to reach south of the bridge - then we knew we'd get there and back, and our gear would be safe in the car. We had no idea at the time how truly wise this decision would prove to be.

Our driver, Angelo, was wonderful. He understood exactly what we wanted to do and even made sure we saw one or two of his favorite but lesser known vantage points around the city. 

Golden Gate Bridge from Fort Point San Francisco
© 2014 Claudia Ward

Our first stop: Fort Point at the southeast corner of the bridge just inside San Francisco Bay. Here you stand beneath the bridge and get an incredible perspective on how mammoth this structure truly is and, in the right light, how orange it can look. I would love to return to this location one day when the fog is rolling in from the ocean enveloping the Marin hills and the bridge, only to reveal themselves a while later. I would stay a very long time to experience that.

Golden Gate Bridge and Baker Beach San Francisco

Next and last stop: Baker Beach, west of the bridge, just outside the bay, facing the Marin Headlands and Sausalito. I was so hoping this was the location that had become my favorite among the images I'd studied before traveling west. The moment Angelo parked, I knew this was it and I couldn't contain my excitement. I lept from the car, knowing I still had to dash to get in position and set up in time for sunset. I charged down the dirt path just above the chain link fence that divided it from the beach below, heading for the opening in the fence ahead. Little but the light and the bridge crossed my mind, although I did look over my shoulder briefly from time to time to be sure Peter was on his way too.

Sunset & Bridge Worshipers at Baker Beach © 2014 Claudia Ward

For the next hour (or two?), we both were having the very best of times. Sunset at Baker Beach is really quite an event. It does happen to be a nudist beach, so you may very well come across one or more "naturalists" enjoying the views as well. We did - a very proud middle aged man who made quite a silhouette in a number of our pictures.

Besides the random "naturalist", young and old congregate at Baker Beach to watch the sun set in the west, to dance along the shore as the sun descends in the sky, to contemplate tomorrow, and to climb the rocks to watch the bridge come to life at night and to photograph it from this marvelous angle.

Wanting desperately to stay as long as we could, we prudently decided not to climb the rocks to get to the best vantage point. We'd watch young people who knew where they were going having a hard time keeping their footing on the way up in daylight, we didn't think that was the place for us after dark, so we happily stayed on the beach where we could see the bridge's magnificent reflection on the beach. We lingered and lingered, taking all of the shots we'd dreamed of and more.

The nudist dressed and left, the dancers locked arms and exited stage left, and the group of enthusiastic sun worshipers rose from their perch in the rocks and gingerly made their way back to the beach and then beyond. Finally, we decided it was time to head back to Angelo and the car.

The return trip seemed simple enough in my mind. Follow the beach, until you see a make-shift stairway in the sand. Climb the stairs, walk through the opening in the fence and follow the dirt path to the parking lot. Well we found a staircase in the sand, climbed it to an opening in a fence and then found a dirt path. It was so dark now, I had to use the flashlight on my cell phone to see where we were stepping and I pointed its brightest light behind me, between the two of us, so we could both see fairly well in the widespread beam of its light. We stopped briefly to rearrange our gear and were about to proceed when the flashlight revealed a dark hole in the ground, directly to our left - in fact, a deep, dark, concrete bunker. Neither of us had noticed this on the way in which now made us second guess whether we'd followed the right path at all.

At this very point I saw the light of another cell phone flashlight coming along the path behind us. As its owner approached with deliberate strides, we could see it was a "surfer-dude" with earphones in, listening to music or the Dali Lama or who knows what. I just knew I had to interrupt. He kindly said that the parking lot was near the small white building that was well lit ahead and then he immediately disappeared in to the dark. Gingerly, we moved toward the little white building, noticing yet another unfenced concrete bunker to our left. We truly had no idea where we were, or whether the surfer-dude had given us good directions or not, and my cell phone was nearly out of battery which would mean neither phone nor light soon. Then we saw a light approaching in the distance, one much brighter than the surfer-dude's cell phone. Nervously I called out "Angelo?" and then I heard his "Yes". We were so relieved. Angelo thought it was a little too dark even for crazy photographers trying to get their last good shots, so he took his torch from the trunk and came looking for us.

The ride back to the hotel was one of warmth and comfort. Happy to be safe and in one piece, not several at the bottom of a bunker, and happy to have seen that sunset and the bridge in its finest. Is there a moral to this story? Perhaps several. Be smart and be prepared - we all were scouts .... you know the drill (just follow it!).

Sunset over the Golden Gate Bridge from the Top of the Mark
© 2014 Claudia Ward

So here's a slide show celebrating our time photographing this glorious bridge (below). Oh I forgot one. On our very last evening in San Francisco, high atop Nob Hill, we had cocktails at the top of the Mark (the Mark Hopkins Hotel) where we could see all of San Francisco at our feet but between the landmark hotels and apartment buildings, down at the mouth of the bay, there was that beautiful bridge - once again decked out in sunset's colors, bidding us au revoir.

 

Photos and Slide Show © 2014 Claudia Danforth Ward
Music: "Mountain Greenery (from "Small Town Crooks") by Lester Lanin & His Orchestra

 

It's a New Year!

Dawn in Cambria - iPhone photo ©2013 Claudia Ward

Happy New Year everyone! Peter and I have been on the road for the past two weeks enjoying California's central coast. I took this same trip years ago, like around 1977 or so, in a large, rented RV with four friends over Thanksgiving. We started in Los Angeles and ended in San Francisco - "camping" all the way up the coast.

Pier-View in Newport Beach - iPhone photo ©2013 Claudia Ward

Well this time we started south of LA in Irvine where my nephew and his wife have settled for  a while and we enjoyed the sunny southern California weather and their hospitality over Christmas. I've spent a lot of time in and around Irvine's neighbor, Newport Beach over the years, visiting family and friends who made this their home so I'm really familiar with the area, but in all those visits I never spent any time on the coastal beaches, which is kind of surprising for a beach-lover like me. This trip though, I made up for lost time. We spent hours on the beaches at sunrise, sunset and in-between, and continued this behavior all along the Pacific coast from Irvine to San Francisco. The coastline is breathtaking and gets better and better the further north you travel, and the waves have been getting bigger and bigger - a challenge for my newest love - wave photography.

Pacific Fishing - iPhone photo ©2013 Claudia Ward

In Cambria and Carmel our Inns were so close to the ocean that we slept to the sound of its crashing waves. And, we just made it off of the switch-back intensive portion of the PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) skirting the western edge of the Los Padres National Forest, to photograph the lighthouse at Point Sur at sunset.

Sunset at Point Sur - iPhone photo ©2013 Claudia Ward

Probably our favorite spot on this trip was one on the 17-mile drive in Pebble Beach, a spot near Point Joe referred to as "The Restless Sea". We've seen a lot of ocean waves in our time, but none that were like these. They were large, chaotic, and behaved like no other waves we've seen. They say that the "unique offshore turbulence" is "generated by the submerged terrain". Whatever the reason, we spent a couple of hours captivated by the unusual rhythm and spectacular performances of these waves - challenged trying to capture some of the dynamics of what we were seeing in our cameras. 

Pebble Beach's Restless Sea - iPhone photo ©2013 Claudia Ward

We've yet to make it to the beach around San Francisco, but we're planning on doing that today thanks to winter-storm Hercules which will be hammering the northeast and caused JetBlue to cancel our flight home. Quel dommage! Two more days in San Francisco with temperatures reaching the low 60s. Yeah! Then we return to the deep freeze with lots of warm memories and wonderful images to sort and process.

Dusk at the Golden Gate to San Francisco - iPhone photo ©2013 Claudia Ward

Here's to a wonderful, happy, and healthy New Year for us all.

 

The Cabot Trail

On our recent trip to Nova Scotia, we found the entire province one of incredible beauty, whether it's the farmland of the Annapolis Valley and the remarkable Bay of Fundy, the surfing beaches of the Eastern Shore and Halifax, or the charming South Shore and its spectacular coastline, but ... one of the most breathtakingly scenic is the island of Cape Breton and its Cabot Trail. 

We accessed the trail from the Water's Edge Inn in Baddeck, a small village at the base of the trail. The town is right on a harbor, is central to everything on the island, and has lots of restaurants, shops and even the Alexander Graham Bell Museum (fascinating). On our first day on Cape Breton, we decided to "do the trail". We'd been told that the trail is 185 miles long and would take us 5 hours to get around, if we didn't stop. Organizing our photography gear took longer than expected so we didn't get underway until nearly 11:00 a.m. and it was only minutes after getting on the trail that we stopped for one of what seemed like hundreds of photo ops.

We'd come north in pursuit of fall color and we found the trail to be in peak color. The vistas of colorful virgin forest running toward the blue ocean, along rocky coasts were beautiful, each seeming to be better than the last. A couple of hours into our counter-clockwise journey hunger set in and we hadn't even reached the top of the east coast of the island. Luckily for us, the Keltic Lodge in Ingonish was still open and we were able to tuck ourselves into their beautiful lounge to feast on a few lucious oysters and a spinach salad. After that we pressed on, deciding not to go the the very "Top of the Island" in the interest of time but rather to cut across to Pleasant Bay and then hope for a great sunset as we drove down the west coast of the island.

Skirting the Cape Breton Highlands National Park, the trail traverses mountains - peak to valley and back to peak again, with the most beautiful virgin forests we had ever seen appearing like a never-ending sea of fall color. Once we reached the west coast, the skies were cloudy and moody, and the coastline resembled the west coast of Oregon or northern California. Thankfully, the roads became less steep and windy and Mother Nature provided us with a spectacular sunset replete with inspirational sunbeams and dramatic clouds.

At the end of the day, it took us nine hours to drive the Cabot Trail and we savoured every turn. Here's a slide show that shares with you just a fraction of what we saw on that incredible day.

 

Photos and Slide Show ©2013 Claudia Ward
Music: Dawn by Various Artists from soundtrack of "Pride and Prejudice" 

 

 

Baddeck, Cape Breton

Baddeck Harbor, Cape Breton, Nova Scotia ©2013 Claudia Ward

Baddeck is at the base of the Cabot Trail on Cape Breton, Nova Scotia and is the perfect place to locate to explore this part of the world. It has a simple, lovely village with several restaurants, shops and inns, all on this beautiful harbor, part of the Bras d'Or Lake. It's so beautiful, mountainous, and cool that Alexander Graham Bell and his family settled here as it reminded him of his homeland Scotland and gave him plenty of open space for his inventions and research in to flight and hydrofoils.

We originally thought we'd stay in an inn along the trail but are so glad we didn't as it's beautiful but also very isolated. The view of this lighthouse is the view from our studio apartment on the second floor of a small green house on Water Street, which is part of the Water's Edge Inn . It's the building in the middle between the gallery and the fire house, which also happens to house the town library on its second floor. Four days here have been wonderful including today's stormy day - perfect for a little R&R listening to the rain!

A Week on the Road in New England and Beyond

One week ago today, we left home heading north in search of fall color and to see cousins I hadn't seen in years. New England is famous for its fall foliage and people who travel to see it are known as "leaf peakers", or so I have been told. First stop Kittery Point, Maine, a charming, rural, coastline town just over the border from New Hampshire, which is, in fact, where we had dinner. Dinner at Jumpin' Jays Fish Cafe was delicious but what struck me about Portsmouth was their practical approach to crossing the street at four corners - they permit diagonal crossings. Think that would work in New York City?

The leaves in lower Maine seem to be just turning, so we were happy we have time to head further north. Once under way the next day, we stopped in Portland for lunch at a restaurant called Duckfat, where we split french fries cooked in duck fat and a duck confit panini, the contents of which probably provided the fat for frying those fries.
With a name like Duckfat it couldn't be bad ... and it wasn't.

Sunset on day two was in a college town called Machias, Maine on a river with a perfect bend and a sailboat - perfect for silhouette sunset shots. We highly recommend the Machias Motor Inn.

Dawn on day three was foggy, but that Machias sailboat and some water fowl provided ample entertainment over coffee, with cameras in hand of course!

Now to see the furthest eastern point in the U.S. where the sun rises before anywhere else ... well there's an argument going on between Lubec and Eastport, Maine. I expect it probably depends on the winds and sands and where mean high tide is on any day.

As Lubec was closest, we went there, enjoyed their harbor, the lighthouse, an early lunch, and the fickle fog hiding and revealing the bridge to Campobello Island, Canada. FDR summered on this island when he was young and there's a park around his summer home that is beautiful and should be seen, so we did - walking the grounds, the docks, and the house. 

Now in Canada, we decided to continue north and save Eastport, Maine for yet another day. This was the last day of the season that the ferry from Campobello to Deer Island would run, so we drove onto the 4:00 p.m. ferry still heading north. The day was brisk, comfortable and immensely colorful but with foggy blues, greens and grays not the firey colors of fall, but we loved them anyway. We crossed Deer Island, just like we do Shelter Island when we go north, in less than a half hour and linked up with the northern ferry from Deer Island to L'Etete, New Brunswick. On the mainland, we decided to spend a couple of nights in Saint John, a small charming city on a large harbor that can accomodate cruise ships. When we first saw the industrial skyline around the harbor from our hotel room we were a little disappointed and then ... the sunset! Two nights, two sunsets and we can't decide which is our favorite. 

City Market in Saint John has been a farmers' market since 1876 and it's roof is built in the shape of the hull of a ship - what else would you expect from ship builders? It sells meats, fish, bread, fresh produce, cheese, local wine, and local crafts. It's colorful, crowded, busy, and simply wonderful. We had the best oysters I've ever had, along with a good fish taco, at Billy's just inside the market building. Good simple and affordable ... does it get better?

After the rainy day in Saint John, we woke to a FOGGY morning hearing cruise ships sounding fog horns as they arrived in the harbor. Watching them tie up occupied us for hours, after which the fog lifted and the sun shone brightly, so why not take another ferry ride (our 5th on this trip), this time to Nova Scotia - only three hours away. We've always wanted to go there, so when you're so close ...

Friends had traveled to Nova Scotia years ago and mentioned a delightful inn in Wolfville called The Blomidon Inn. I'd made a mental note of it for the future, and with the future here and now, I made a reservation there for our first night on the island. The Inn is a former sea captain's house, with dark wood walls, creaking staircases and beautiful carved banisters. They also have canapy style beds that require a step stool to "climb in", but they only provided one so Peter taught himself a clever "hop and roll" action that got him safely onboard!

On our first full day in Nova Scotia, Peter and I drove around the countryside, skirting the Minus Basin of the Bay of Fundy enjoying the rolling hills, livestock, apple orchards, and dirt roads. On one we even found a babbling brook that we photographed for over an hour, but when hunger kicked in we packed up the tripod and headed to Halls Harbour for lunch at the Lobster Pound. Winding roads lead you down a steep hill to the shores of the Bay and the tiny harbor. The lobster season will start soon here but for now the lobster boats are tied up along the sides of the harbor. We got there about 1:15 p.m. and left around 4:30 p.m. By then the boats were "beached" and the harbor nearly drained. It was like watching a slow leaking bathtub drain, marooning everything until the tide turns. It was pure delight I felt sitting in the lee of the lobster pound, eating fresh steamed lobster, under the sunny blue skies of Nova Scotia.

In need of some clean clothes, Peter and I got a room at the Super 8 in Windsor, about 20 minutes south of Wolfville. It's a simple motel on top of a hill, costing only $89.99 a night, with great WiFi and a laundry for their guests. You might wonder how we found it. Well Nova Scotia has an incredible Tourist Information network and you can call their 800 number and they will find you a room meeting your specifications (subject to availability of course, but this is the very end of their season). Staying here allowed us to further explore the northern coastline of the Annapolis Valley and travel down lots of gravel roads, one that even led us to a fresh-water waterfall. The water here often appears purple because the soil is red and the sky is blue, and the water mixes the two.

Sunsets here are over the parking lot, but still enjoyable and colorful.

Where to next? East, still in search of the brilliant colors of fall.

P.S. All photos were taken with the iPhone 4 © Claudia Ward

 

Martha's Vineyard

Growing up on Cape Cod, I always heard the news- and weather- men refer to where I lived as "Cape Cod and the islands". It wasn't until well into adulthood that I ever visited "the islands". In fact, I never made it to Martha's Vineyard, for a real visit, until four years ago and this year we returned.

When I first arrived on Martha's Vineyard four years ago, I was in shock and feeling liberated all at the same time. I had been part of a "reduction in force" in 2009 at the bank I worked at on Wall Street. It's amazing that in just moments your life and energies can be redirected. Martha's Vineyard was a good place to start the re-creation process and return to my photographic journey. I have yearned to return to this special island ever since, and this past week we did.

Oak Bluffs is where we landed the last time and that was our destination on this trip too. The Dockside Inn has changed hands since we were last there and the new owners are obviously taking tender loving care of this wonderful waterfront property. One of the owners is a fourth generation local, full of enthusiasm and boundless energy. He sparked an interest in the history of Oak Bluffs in me and this is some of what I learned.

Originally, Cottage City (Oak Bluff's prior name) seceded from Edgartown in 1880 and changed it's name to Oak Bluffs in 1907, acknowledging it's growth from simply a cottage community. It was in 1866 that "a group of investors formed the Oak Bluffs Land and Wharf Company and purchased approximately seventy-five acres of land ...  The Company engaged Robert Morris Copeland, a Boston landscape gardener, to prepare plans of a residential summer community. Copeland created a subdivision plan entitled, 'Oak Bluffs,' in which he laid out the property in small lots and curved avenues. He also designated eight areas on his plans as 'parks.'  ...  Vineyard historians claim that Oak Bluffs was the first planned residential community constructed in the United States, noting that it preceded Frederick Law Olmstead's 'Riverside' in Chicago by three years."¹ The Vineyard Gazette has noted that Copeland was "a landscape architect inspired by Frederick Law Olmsted", one of the designers of New York City's Central Park.

Whatever its history, the town of Oak Bluffs, our favorite on the island, is delightful sitting upon the bluffs overlooking the Sound with its large parks and charming architecture. It's eminently livable and the Dockside Inn couldn't be more convenient -in walking distance to the ferries, the harbor, Circuit Avenue, and lots of wonderful restaurants for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Our favorite restaurant on this trip was Fishbone's, a restaurant we could see from our bedroom window and located right on the harbor dock. The Lookout, our second favorite restaurant, is just a short walk up the dirt alleyway next to the Inn, heading East to the Bluffs overlooking the Sound. Whether it was raw local oysters from Katama, shark bites, sashimi, lobster rolls or even fried chicken - we never had a bad meal on this island.

It's easy to enjoy sunrises and sunsets in this quaint New England island village. We hope you enjoy seeing just a glimpse of what can be seen on Martha's Vineyard.

 

Photos and Slide Show © 2013 Claudia Ward
Music: Anticipation by Paul Breiner & Don Gillis 

 

¹The Martha's Vineyard Times 2008

Nantucket Adventure

Chatham Lighthouse Beach

As many of you know, I'm originally from Cape Cod - a place that is near and dear to my heart. We've been lucky enough to visit relatives there for the last several years, but I think this year's visit tops them all. Best of all we were able to spend time with relatives we rarely see, "breaking bread", laughing and talking but, we were also able to see the Cape from a vantage point rarely accessible to most. We flew in a private plane over and back between Chatham and Nantucket on one of the only really nice days this spring. 

Flying over I could hardly get my bearings but found the Lighthouse at the end of Hardings Beach at the entrance to Stage Harbor and then was simply astounded to see all of the changes in the shore line and barrier beaches east and south of Chatham. North Beach is now North Beach Island. There is now a South Beach (in Massachusetts!), and it is separate from Monomoy Island and its distinctive lighthouse. The "new break" is easily seen from the air with the triangle of sand created by the break just yards from the new opening. The patterns and colors of all of the shoals, bars, and beaches is spectacular and I can't believe our good fortune at being able to see it all from the air. The trip between Chatham and Nantucket took less than thirty minutes but I was glued to the windows and my camera (of course).

Once on the island, we took an hour tour in a van to see parts of the island we couldn't have on foot in one day. Jozie, our driver, was a colorful character who was born (prematurely on vacation) on the island and has lived here for the last twenty five years or so. Her love of it was apparent and her knowledge of it was better than she professed. After that, we ambled the cobblestones of downtown Nantucket, window shopping and getting ready for our sail on the Endeavor.

Endeavor, is a Friendship sloop built by it's owner and captain, Jim Genthner. Peter and I have visited Nantucket for the last several years during our visits to the Cape, specifically to sail with Captain Jim. He's a delightful guy, with a thick New England accent and mischief in his eyes, and he's full of knowledge and funny stories about the island upon which he's lived with his family for the last three decades (plus). An hour and a half on Nantucket's waters on the Endeavor are guaranteed to clear out all the cobwebs and relax you beyond your dreams.

Next? Lunch of course, and we enjoyed a leisurely lunch on the cobblestones at the end of the pier at a restaurant called Cru. First order of the day? A plateau! What, you might ask is that? It's a "tower" of seafood including oysters, clams, crab, shrimp and lobster. It's dramatic and fun, especially if one in your crowd has never had one. Special drinks were in order followed by something sensible like hamburgers and espresso.

Our pilot has been spotting tuna for two fishing boats for over 20 years and when he dropped us off he went to work. He called us around 4:30 p.m. to say he was heading back to Nantucket to collect us. We met him at the airport and flew back to Chatham, savoring every glimpse from the windows. As we approached Chatham, my bearings were with me, so I recognized from the air the Chatham Lighthouse beach, Ryders Cove, Pleasant Bay, "the Outer Beach", and Eastward Ho. This was my home for many years, a place I know well, a place I love - and I cannot thank Leslie enough for letting us see it from the air! What a day, what memories, and what images. I hope you enjoy this slide show as much as I do.

 

Photos and Slide Show © 2013 Claudia Ward
Music: "Old Cape Cod" by Patti Page 

 

Weekend Shopping in Deauville

One week ago we were in Deauville, France and it was raining. Despite that, we ventured forth from our beautiful hotel, the Normandy Barrière, past it's brilliant gardens to town to see what there was to see, and we were pleasantly surprised. First of all the streets were bustling with people, old and young alike, all ignoring the inclement weather and politely navigating around one another's parapluies (umbrellas). All of the shop windows were inviting us to "come hither" showing off everything from chocolates to brightly colored sneakers decked out in sequins.

As we ambled further along the rue Eugene Colas, we found the beautiful Place Morny with it's cobblestoned circle and fountain flowing even in the rain! Beyond the Place, on the rue Breney we happily stumbled upon a huge farmer's market. There was cart after cart and table after table stacked with the freshest looking produce we'd seen since last year at our local farm stands on Long Island.
Artichokes the size of small melons, heirloom tomates in every size and color, haricots verts (green beans), bibb lettuce, leeks, and fresh red and white radishes spread before us as far as the eye could see. We longingly walked the aisles, wishing we could buy anything - it was all so beautiful and fresh. As we made the U-turn at the end of the tables, what lay before us now truly made our mouths water.
Framboises, bleuets et cerises (raspberries, blueberries and cherries), followed by a huge table of fraises "cueillies hier soir" (strawberries "picked last night")! And what was next to that? An entire case and baskets filled with cheese ... naturellement!  This all made me quite homesick but I consoled myself with the knowledge that our farm stands would be opening soon after our return home and strawberries would be "in" in June.

Enjoy this brief show of "previews of coming attractions".

  

iPhone Photos and Slide Show © 2013 Claudia Ward
Music: Jessica's Sonata by Bruce Rowland 

 

A Week in Normandy with .................................Valérie Jardin

Valérie Jardin is a photographer I have followed on the internet for nearly four years and until recently we'd never met in person, although we had spoken twice on the phone. We share a passion for photography and I've found it fascinating and inspirational to follow the growth in her business. Originally a commercial photographer based in Minneapolis, Valérie focused professionally on food photography as well as residential and commercial interiors, and personally on street photography allowing her to tell wonderful stories - usually in black and white. In the past year, she has re-focused her considerable energies to include photography workshops in the U.S., Europe and even Australia, and Peter and I were fortunate enough to join her for one in her native-Normandy along with six other like-minded photographers.

Our Normandy group hailed from South Dakota, North Dakota, Minnesota, Virginia, South Carolina, New York, and Australia. We convened in Paris, boarded a large van and set off for Honfleur, the first stop in our week-long journey together. Valérie started the week off with an overview of how to think about composition and light with examples from her own portfolio which was really good food-for-thought, and we began the adventure early the following morning. Rain kept us on the move in Honfleur, hopping between churches and shops carrying the local specialty - Calvados. After lunch, we bid a fond adieu to Honfleur and set out for Bayeux via Deauville.

The boardwalk in Deauville was still drying from rain and the colorful umbrellas on the beach were all tied down so not to be caught by the wind. Despite that the colors of Deauville stood out starkly and beautifully against the gray Norman skies. 

The Château de Bellefontaine would be our home in Bayeux for the next three nights and it couldn't have been a more perfect location. Set back from the road but not far from town, the 18th century Château is surrounded by a two hundred year old park with mature beautiful trees and a lake populated with a pair of swans and lots of very lively ducks.

Bayeux is the home to Notre Dame of Bayeux, a truly beautiful cathedral and the remarkable Bayeux Tapestry. The "tapestry" is 230 feet long and depicts the events leading up to the Norman conquest of England and culminates in the Battle of Hastings in 1066, and it is truly remarkable. Bayeux is also a perfect base from which to see the D-Day beaches and memorials, and we did one day, starting at Arromanches, moving on to Gold and then Omaha beach, stopping at the American Cemetery at Colleville, and ending at Point du Hoc. This was a day that left us all quite breathless from the staggering evidence of what had happened here and the staggering beauty of this northern coastline of France.

On our last morning in Bayeux, we each got to sit with Valérie to review several of the images we'd taken so far and discuss one-on-one what we'd accomplished, and what and how we could improve. This "quality-time" to chat about our own work was appreciated by every enthusiastic photographer in the group, and then we packed an overnight case for our stay on Mont Saint Michel.

Mont Saint Michel is a rock upon which has been built an Abbey and around which has grown a small village, catering mostly to the three million tourists who come to see this incredible sight every year. We stayed at La Mère Poulard, an inn established on the island in 1888 near the "front gate" and one famous for it's incredibly light omelets. The four flights of stairs nearly did us in although, we learned, they were nothing compared to the stairs leading to the Abbey, ... but persevere we did and glad for it. The Abbey is peaceful and solid and made me believe almost anything could survive the test of time.

With Mont Saint Michel in our rear-view mirror, we set our sights on Caen, a city that was almost completely decimated during the war, except for the churches and part of the castle of William the Conqueror - you know, the one who conquered England in 1066 - oh, I mentioned that already didn't I. Walking the ramparts of the castle afforded us a beautiful view over the city, the one where we would end our journey together and this photographic adventure.

What did we learn, from Valérie and each other?

• How to compose an image using leading lines, patterns, dimension and scale, color, and ... of course, the light.

• How to photograph people on the street and food in natural daylight.

• How to share - our vision and enthusiasm, something Valérie taught by example and is never short on.

It was a wonderful week, one we'd recommend to anyone with an interest in photography and, of course, France, with a teacher who wants to share all she knows to help you love photography as much as she does.

Here's a slide show that really shows the week we all shared.

 

Photos and Slide Show © 2013 Claudia Ward
Music: George Valentin by Ludovic Bource from the soundtrack of "The Artist" 

And here's a map to show you exactly where we were.

Au revoir!

 

A Rainy Sunday in Deauville

There's nothing quite like a rainy weekend to allow yourself to regroup, slow down, and truly listen to the rain. Peter and I arrived in Deauville, after our photography workshop in Normandy, on Saturday afternoon which was gray but not rainy. Since our arrival however, there's been a constant misty rain and fog that envelops you but never soaks - unless you're out for quite along time. It's really quite comforting. It's forced us to relax, and not plan - which is a good thing after nearly two weeks of touring around.

Yesterday was Sunday, a day of rest and one when family and friends get together, enjoy a meal, and a walk in the park (even in the rain). The view from our window, overlookng the square in Deauville, was wonderful.

Every walk of life passed before us, the very rich and those that aren't so, the stylish and the wannbees, families, children, star-struck lovers, and simple folk like you and me. As many of you know, I am never bored and yesterday - when I decided I'd photograph umbrellas from our window - the day became very entertaining. I'll have to ask Valerie if this qualifies as street photography.

This slide show isn't as good as I'd like, but I hope you find it entertaining - a rainy Sunday afternoon in Normandy. 

 

Photos and Slide Show © 2013 Claudia Ward
Music: Singin' In the Rain by Gene Kelly 

We're heading home and have no more time now for posting, but we hope you enjoy this Sunday afternoon in the park ... in  Deauville.

 

La Mère Poulard

This is where we stayed on Mont Saint Michel last night in Normandy - on the fourth floor! (No elevator.) Famous for its omelets as well as its historic location - we'll remember both for a long time. More on Mont Saint Michel later.

Sent from my iPhone
Claudia Danforth Ward

Postcards from the American Cemetery in Normandy

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

 

Post Cards from Deauville

Deauville is the Cannes of Normandy, a charming seaside town known for it's boardwalk, the American Film Festival, Horses Shows, its Casino, and for being "seen".

Off to the beaches today so enjoy our short stop in Deauville.

 

 

Post Cards from Honfleur

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

 

Travel Log: Beautiful Paris May 2013

Paris is incredibly beautiful and interesting. The gardens are some of the most beautiful I have ever seen and the Parisiennes truly enjoy them. They sit to enjoy the sun and breezes, they play - many with boats in the fountains, and they relax and enjoy their city and each other. We Americans could take a lesson here. Les Jardins du Luxembourg are some of my favorites in Paris and I hope you'll agree when you see today's slide show.

As many of you know, when Peter and I travel we like to get on the water and we do that every time we come to Paris. The Seine is very swollen and its waters are breaching the embankments in many places, making the "walk along the banks of the Seine" a little more challenging than in the past.

The iconic Eiffel Tower is seen nearly everywhere in the distance within Paris, but this is the first time we have spent so much time, at different hours of the day, "up-close-and-personal" with the Tower, and what we liked before, we now love.

I hope you see different parts of Paris in this slide show, as we have.

  

Photos and Slide Show © 2013 Claudia Danforth Ward
Music: From the soundtrack of Ratatouille (Instrumental Version) by  Knightsbridge 

À tout à l'heure!

 

Travel Log: Paris 8 May 2013

Happy Birthday to Peter! Another birthday abroad - this is a truly poor man.

We arrived in Paris on May 7th around 9:00 a.m. with little to no sleep under our belts. The service on Air France was wonderful and the AirBus was the smoothest ride I've ever had, but the seat was quite uncomfortable so we couldn't sleep well. But, who am I to complain, we're in Paris for five nights and then heading to Normandy for a photography workshop with Valerie Jardin (more on that later).

Once again we've rented an apartment in Paris, by far the best way to visit affordably in our estimation. This time we're in the 7th, just a very small block and a half from la Tour Eiffel. We walk a short distance and we are almost at the base of the tower, not at the far end of the Champ-de-Mars. This apartment has incredible closet space for a French apartment, lots of light from its southern exposure, a modern kitchen, and it's quiet; however, we did some how blow the circuit breaker for electricity for the apartment within the first five hours of being here. Our contact in Paris for the apartment could not have been nicer or more helpful and came to fix the problem as we were going to the Apple Store near the Louvre to buy French plugs for our computers.

Once that chore was complete, we ambled west through the Tuileries at dusk watching the sun get lower and lower in the sky, and Parisiennes basking in the end-of-day sunlight sitting around the garden's fountains. We did get back to our new neighborhood in time to see the first show of the "dancing diamonds" on la Tour Eiffel which is always beautiful but incredibly impressive if you're standing right below it.

The morning of the 8th began with a California-native handyman fixing a bedroom light that didn't work but also sharing with us tips on where to eat in the neighborhood and how to catch the right trains around town. We then met up with a woman we'd met last year on a photographic "adventure" in Venice; she is here on Valerie's Paris workshop. We had lunch with Sheida and her friend, and then walked over to enjoy a stroll in les jardins du Luxembourg.

The rain had passed and now the sky was riddled with big white, cumulus clouds. Peter and I happily shot in the gardens for over an hour and then decided the clouds might provide an incredible backdrop to the city from the river, so we walked to the Seine and hopped on a Vedette.

The Seine is so swollen, its waters breach the banks most of the time now. It was like this two and a half years ago when we came at Christmas time, and it appears, things have not improved. What this means for the boats is that they can no longer head east up the river to see Notre Dame, but rather they can only travel west toward la Tour Eiffel and the miniature Statue of Liberty. The sky was so impressive; Peter and I were glad we came and enjoyed, once again, seeing this city we've come to love from the water.

The end of the day found us ... where else ... at la Tour Eiffel. We got there around 9:00 after a small bite to eat, and the sun was just beginning to really think about setting. It sets here, around 9:20 p.m., nearly an hour after it does at home which makes for long days for a photographer - especially one who may want to capture "blue hour" - that wonderful half hour after sunset. We thought we'd stay for just a few shots and ended up staying through sunset, the lighting of the tower, the beginning of blue hour, and the first showing of the "dancing diamonds". "Dancing diamonds" is what my sister called the five minute light show that occurs every hour after sunset for five minutes until midnight. Around 10:15 p.m., we started walking home ... two "very tired Tookers".

As we climbed into bed, we watched some of our photographs from the day on the television, and Peter declared it a very "Happy Birthday".

Here's a slide show of the first day in Paris, I hope to pull together one for the birthday-day soon.

 

Photos and slide show by Claudia Danforth Ward
Music: L'Autre valse Amélie by Yann Tierson 

Au revoir.  À demain.

Parguera, Puerto Rico

Islands off the Coast of Parguera, Puerto Rico

Parguera is a charming little village on the southwest coast of Puerto Rico, with pristine waters, mangroves, and even iguanas. We packed a picnic lunch and enjoyed it on a small island just off the coast. A relaxing day all around.

The slide show below is for all of our friends and compatriots who are stuck in the deep freeze. We hope you enjoy it and the warm weather heading your way.

  

Photos and slide show © 2013 Claudia Danforth Ward
Music: "Wish You Were Here", by Christophe Beck from the soundtrack of
Under The Tuscan Sun 

Open Window 2012 - Year Three

Open Window is three years old! I find that so hard to believe as it's simply become a part of my life and some of yours. Open Window began as a personal blog with vague boundaries covering nearly anything that interested me and I thought might interest you too. Over the past three years, Open Window has increasingly focused on Photography, Travel and Food - three great pleasures in life.

My objective at the beginning was to entertain and I still hold that as a dear priority, one I hope I've met frequently if not with every post. We've covered subjects from Participles and Prepositions to the Moon and Jupiter to Caramelized Bacon, and we've covered a lot of territory from the small Austrian village of Mauterndorf to the big island of Hawaii, and all along the way we've provided photographs to share with you.

This year began with our participation in The Thank You Art Show sponsored by Hampton Photo Arts at Ashawagh Hall in East Hampton where we made new friends and saw some awesome art. In February, we celebrated my birthday eating caviar for breakfast on a balcony overlooking the ocean watching the seagulls dance on the banisters. And by winter's end, we were doing a photo shoot for a book a friend was writing called Secondhand New York - shooting secondhand and vintage shops and boutiques in the East Village of Manhattan. When spring arrived, we celebrated our "sixties" by traveling across "the pond" to Switzerland, Austria and Italy - spending 12 glorious days in Venice, eight of which were with a like-minded group of photographers led by David duChemin and Jeffrey Chapman. Having seen the America's Cup catamarans sailing in the crowded Venetian lagoon, we had to go to Newport just six weeks later to watch them race in Newport harbor - what a way to end the spring - on the grassy rolling hills of the Inn at Castle Hill. This past summer was all about horses, and we enjoyed the races in Saratoga and the Classic horse show in Bridgehampton. Finally fall, found us on beautiful Lake Monroe in Bloomington Indiana for our nephew's wedding, followed by some R&R in French Lick Springs Indiana. Peter and I are never ones to drive home in a straight line, so when we read about a regatta on Lake George and a balloon festival in Queensbury NY, we pointed the car northeast - doing a quick overnight in Niagara Falls in Ontario Canada before arriving in the Adirondack Park. And of course the holiday season always includes a visit to Rockefeller Plaza and Montauk Light.

During the year, there were a lot of new creations in our kitchen too from homemade Ginger Ale to Thai Watermelon Soup and lots of healthy salads and soups.

 

Photos and Slide Show © 2012 Claudia Ward and Peter Tooker
Music: End Creditouilles from the Movie Soundtrack of "Ratatouille" by Michael Giacchino  

So here's the year in review. As always, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your continued support and enthusiasm. Stay tuned ... there's more to come.

Reflections

I adore reflections - I don't recall ever seeing one that didn't catch my attention and imagination. They mildly distort the world from what is known to something recognizable but oh so appealing, especially if there is color involved. This was dawn in Bloomington Indiana last September on a cool late-summer morning - this makes me want to return.

Venice Revisited

Venice Alleyway © 2012 Claudia Danforth Ward

Our trip to Venice in May is but a memory now - but what lovely memories they are. To live in such a place for 12 days allowed us to slowly take in the details of its waterways and alleyways. As I'm moving this year's 8,000+ photos from my computer to an external drive, I'm taking a wonderful stroll down memory lane and coming upon some images that I'd forgotten I'd made. These are two such favorites. As vivid and bright as the colors are on Burano (so they can be seen from a distance on the sea), Venice's colors are subdued and I loved the muted oranges and blues that could be found everywhere.

Venice - The Bridge of Sighs © 2012 Claudia Danforth Ward

Let me know which one of these is your favorite.

Venice - The Outer Islands and Bar

Venice is magical and diverse. Each island that we ventured to last spring was amazingly unique in character in nearly every way.

Murano, known for its beauiful handblown glass, has a main thoroughfare through it that caters to the tourists who come from around the globe to purchase its beautiful wares, and yet just off that beaten path it feels quite residential - even slightly suburban.

Burano, best known for its colorful houses - painted brightly so seafarers could see their homes from distant waters, is cheerfully novel and beautifully reflective in its canal waters. It was also very apparent that this is a tightly knit community of families living three-to-four generations together, enjoying their home and ignoring the tourists.

Lido, known as the golden island of Venice, is a barrier "sandbar" separating the Venetian lagoon from the Adriatic Sea, and is the beautiful beach resort of Venice. It has beautiful tree-lined avenues and deep, sandy beaches - and they even have automobiles (although a limited number of streets). This island brought tranquility back to our days of running with the throngs of tourists on the main island where we stayed.

San Giorgio Maggiore, appears so small for such a large name, and yet you cannot avoid seeing it if you ever visit the Piazza San Marco. It has a tower, (twin-ish to the Campanile in the piazza), a marine basin for pleasure craft, and wonderful vista views of the lagoon.

We hope you enjoy this slide show of what we saw, enjoyed and loved about the outer islands and bar (sandbar that is) of Venice.

 

Photos and Slide Show © 2012 Claudia Ward
Music: Elegant, from the Soundtrack of Victor/Victoria 

Ciao!

 

Venice

What could possibly be written about Venice that hasn't been already - not much that's for sure. We all know it's a city of small islands (117) formed by lots and lots of canals (177) in a shallow lagoon just off the Adriatic. It's leadership in historical maritime trade is well known as is it's craftmanship in architecture, glass, and even lace. We all know it's special and believed to be sinking - albeit slowly. "Elegant decay" has been used to describe this unique city with streets of water. 

What could possibly be photographed in Venice that hasn't been photographed tens of millions of times? Not much, but that didn't take away the thrill of being there and capturing our own images. In many ways, Venice is a photographer's dream because it's truly best to shoot her early in the morning, and in the evening and at night - when the throngs of tourists are tucked away in restaurants or their hotel rooms. Said another way, anyone "in their right mind" would avoid shooting Venice in the middle of the day because there are 50,000 tourists milling about the squares and alleyways, and they can't get out of your way (nor are they inclined to), and then, of course, there is the sun!

Peter and I had the great good fortune to spend 12 days in Venice this past May which enabled us to experience this beautiful city as tourists first with all the unbridled excitement we couldn't have controlled if we'd wanted to, and then as a photography-loving individuals trying to capture images that conveyed the feelings and thoughts that this city evoked in us. Both experiences were rewarding for us, although looking at and experiencing Venice with no sense of time pressure was a true luxury. It was also especially rewarding as we joined a group of 8 like-minded individuals in the middle of our stay for a photography adventure,Venice Within The Frame, led by David duChemin and Jeffrey Chapman. We shared perspectives, knowledge and technology with one another, spurred each other on (some of us at amazing hours), and laughed over food and wine as one day closed to another's beginning. Those days in Venice we'll never forget.

As many of you expect to see a recounting of "what we saw" this slide show hopefully will not disappoint, but I also hope that some of you may detect a more accute attention to perspective, detail, color, and maybe even story.

 

Photos and Slide show ©2012 Claudia Ward
Music: William Tell: Dance for Six by Eugine Ormandy & The Philadelphia Orchestra
Dinner Classics: The Italian Album 

Ciao!

The Boats of Venice

Grand Canal & the Rialto Bridge in Venice ©2012 Claudia Ward

The Venetian lagoon is peppered with boats of all sizes and shapes, and we found ourselves endlessly entertained watching the water traffic wherever we were. The Vaporetti are Venice's public transportation system. They are a fleet of motorized bus-boats that will take you nearly anywhere you might want to go in Venice, along the Grand Canal or to an outer island like Burano. Water taxis are wooden speedboat limos, and literally will take you anywhere for a negotiated price. Gondolas are the picturesque wooden boats that so typify Venice to every tourist around the globe. Traditional bragosso and traghetto also traverse the lagoon's waters, as do nearly every manner of sail boat - small gaff rigged shallow-hulled sailboats, and the super-sized high-tech catamarans now being raced in the America's Cup race series. Venice even allows gargantuan cruise ships to glide through the waters of the Grand Canal, although they should probably rethink that as those monsters displace a LOT of water. These are but a few of the hundreds of boats of Venice. Ciao!

 

 Photos & Slide Show ©2012 Claudia Ward
Music: Rigoletto: La Donna e Mobile by Andre Kostelanetz & His Orchestra 

Adirondack Balloon Festival

Hot Air Balloons Rising at Dawn at the Adirondack Balloon Festival 2012

We stumbled across this incredible event, the Adirondack Balloon Festival, based at the southern end of the Adirondack Park, in Queensbury, New York. We have had such fun and our exhaustion from rising well before dawn is born with a huge smile in our hearts for all we saw. This is but a small sampling of what we hope to share in the not so distant future.

 

At the End of the Day the Falls

After eleven hours on the road, heading north to the Adirondacks, our journey from French Lick, Indiana ended .... where else .... Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada! Well we were going to stay in Buffalo, but this is so close, and they let us cross the border, even looking as we did after so many hours on the road.

This is the view from the room Peter got us from the Internet while underway and, believe it or not, it is affordable - it may have taken time, but time well spent. We can't wait for sunrise. The sun is going to come up right behind those falls, the ones on the U.S. side - the country to the south. Did you know that the U.S. is east of Canada here? :)

Niagara Falls ©2012 Claudia Ward

Sent from my iPad

West Baden Springs Hotel - Indiana

Eating under the dome - once the eighth wonder of the world - in the West Baden Springs Hotel, a part of the French Lick Resort in southwest Indiana. Spectacular!

Blue Hour in the Dome of the West Baden Springs Hotel © 2012 Claudia Ward

Sent from my iPhone
Claudia Danforth Ward

Lake Monroe Indiana

Lake Monroe is the largest lake in Indiana - well really it's a man-made reservoir - near Bloomington Indiana where Indiana University (IU) is located. Our family congregated in Bloomington once more this past week, this time for the marriage of my nephew, who earned his PhD from IU two years ago.

My sister rented a house on Lake Monroe in order to host the rehearsal dinner in a homey environment set in a location with natural beauty all around.

The east-facing house she rented was perched half way down a steep hill which ended on a beach along the lake's shores. Every morning we were up before sunrise, cameras and tripods at the ready, and piping hot coffee in hand.

The peace and quiet in the woods above the lake was wonderful and each sunrise was unique - one had patches of fog drifting along the water's surface appearing pale pink and very ethereal, another was brilliant and clear with bright reds and oranges streaking the sky above the dark tree-lined hills on the far shore.

Fish jumped, cranes swooped, squirrels scampered, and acorns dropped to the forest floor with a thud - these are the noises of early morning on Lake Monroe that we became accustomed to over this very busy week. More details later about that later.

Cloudy Day

Yesterday was a gloriously beautiful day with billowy white clouds all the way from New Jersey to Western Pennsylvania! Indiana here we come!

Sent from my iPhone
Claudia Danforth Ward

When in Rome ...

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!

 

Capri

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" 

The Amalfi Coast

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 Eden Roc

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 to Positano

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, 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

Venice Within the Frame

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!

 

 

 

Happy Birthday ...

... to my wonderful husband! Together in Venice and so easily entertained.

Peter & Me Together in Venice

Peter & Me Reflecting on Venice

May 5: Murano

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!

Full Moon Over Venice

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.

 

Salzburg to Venice with Images

Salzburg, Austria - View from Our Room in the Hotel Europa

Thursday was our most challenging day and I started it with very little sleep. Anxious about our three trains and moving all of our luggage, I awoke around 3:30 a.m. and never went back to sleep. We've packed as "streamlined" as possible which still leaves us with two large suitcases, my "vanity" case, our two camera bags, my shoulder bag and Peter's Change-up camera bag. God help us! And he did by providing lots of wonderful strangers.

Salzburg, Austria

We walked across the square from our hotel (Austria Trend Hotel Europa) to the train station about 8:15 a.m. and quickly found our track. In the center of the platform, several schematics are posted one for each train that will come through the station. The schematic shows each coach number and where it will stop on the platform, i.e. section A, B, or C. It's very efficient and very Austrian. The train arrived on time and we started today's adventure at 9:06 a.m., happily tucked into our first class seats next to enormous picture windows. Breakfast was the first order and it was delicious. The views were even more spectacular to my mind as the trees have really bloomed in the past several days with the inordinately warm weather, the rivers have swollen with melted snows from the mountains, and the fields have turned a beautiful emerald green.

Today we had to change trains twice, once in Innsbruck and once in Verona. According to the schedule there would be 28 minutes for the transfer in Innsbruck and 31 minutes for the transfer in Verona. With all this luggage and the short durations the trains stay in the stations before departing for the next stop, these transfers were going to be real fire drills!

Austrian Alps - Salzburg, Austria

The train from Salzburg to Innsbruck was 20 minutes late arriving in Innsbruck, leaving us 8 minutes to get off the train, find the next track and then get on the next train. Yikes. We could see the track we needed to get to but there seemed to be no way to get there, except down, under and up! Peter approached the down escalator with his two rolling bags, leading with the monster suitcase, following with the rolling camera bag and wedging himself on a step in between. He was half way down when I approached the escalator and I quickly knew, for some unknown reason, I wasn't going to be able to do this. It was like "coming and going" at the same time, and I just couldn't do it. So, as Peter was approaching the bottom, I thought I'd put his camera bag on a step and send it down by itself. The bag was centered on a single step but as I let go of the handle, it caught the edge of the step and began to fall. I stood there, at the top of these moving stairs, and watched in disbelief as the bag rolled, end-over-end, down the stairs toward my unsuspecting beloved husband. As the noise of the oncoming bag caught his attention, Peter turned just in time for him to unload his bags onto "terra ferma" and try to catch the rogue case. He secured the bag with out harming himself but it did take him down, so now he and the camera case were at the base of the escalator, bouncing a little as each step folded itself in to the floor, AND … I was now floating closer and closer on my stair with my large suitcase in tow. I was praying he'd be able to get up and away before I arrived or there was going to be an awful pile-up. Peter got out of the way just in the nick of time.

We collected ourselves quickly, dashed through the tunnel under the tracks and then, with horror, faced the rising escalator that would take us to the track. The good news? The train was not there - it was running 10 minutes late … there is a God! We relayed our bags up this escalator and tried, desperately, to look as if all was right with the world - I seriously question whether I had any success. 

The train that took us to Verona was an Italian train - starkly different from the Austrian trains we'd been on to date. Rather than an open car with roomy seats organized in twos, this first class car had a long narrow hall on one side and compartments on the other, each with three seats facing another three seats. The first challenge was getting all of our stuff on the train before it closed its doors and left the station. As Peter was trying to determine where to stow "the monster", a very kind woman helped me load the smaller bags and I heard the final whistle blow as my feet left the platform and the train door closed behind me.

The center seats were the only ones left in our compartment (although our tickets indicated that the window seats were meant to be ours). Following examples left by others, Peter left our large luggage along the outer wall of the hall and put the smaller ones in a luggage rack above our heads. The older couple in the window seats were from Southern California and he was quite the "chatty Cathy". The other couple were young and Japanese, and they spent almost the entire trip in the bar car, so John, Melinda, Peter and I got to know each other quite well. Peter was situated in the compartment so he could see the luggage in the hall but also so he could take video of the passing countryside.

About half way to Verona, the train accelerated suddenly and out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw his extra-large black suitcase begin to move under its own steam. He darted in to the hall only to see this big-black monster independently rolling down the hall straight for the glass door at the end. Knowing he couldn't catch it before it collided with the door, Peter just prayed no one would open the door just as the suitcase approached. Once again, we were fortunate. The suitcase stopped without further incident. When Peter returned with the suitcase he turned it on its side - off the wheels!

This train was on time and we learned from John that it was going to stay in the Verona station for over 15 minutes, so Peter and I knew, we'd have ample time to disembark - whew! In fact, by the time we were on the platform not one other passenger from our train could be seen, except an English-speaking German who was smoking a cigarette, waiting for this train to continue its journey south. 

The Verona train station is under construction - disorganized construction compared to the construction of the Salzburg station. In Salzburg, escalators AND elevators worked despite the construction, here neither worked so we knew we'd have to move everything down the stairs, through the tunnel and then up more stairs to the platform. The relay was our plan here. Peter and I would take the valuable camera equipment down the stairs, I would stay with them, and he would go back up stairs for the large cases. As we were approaching the half-way point on the first pass, we saw the black monster case being ferried quickly and efficiently down the stairs by our English-speaking German friend. He deposited the case, bid us a safe journey and bounded back up the stairs to catch his train. I promised to think kind thoughts about him for the rest of the day.

The tunnel was dark and we were still uncertain about which track we should be heading for and out of the darkness appeared … John. I think he felt sorry for us and since we hadn't appeared on the platform for the train to Venice, he back-tracked to find us. He was our second savior, and he and his wife continued to be for the remainder of our journey to Venice. They helped us load our gear onto the next train and they helped us get it off in Venice. As they were walking in to the station, quickly being enveloped by an oncoming throng, Peter called to them - thanking them again and promising to buy them a drink if and when our paths crossed again. With a smile and a wave, they disappeared.

Now for the last leg of today's trying trials - getting to the hotel. This would be a challenge in any city but in Venice, by water … mon Dieu! Peter had been saying he was determined to get to our hotel using the Vaporetti, which are water-buses. He left me with the bags while he queued up to buy a two day pass for these boats. By the time he returned, I had been watching the crowded buses coming and going and knew there was no way we were going to be able to board with out great efforts and embarrassment. I'd seen two men walking the platform with jackets that read "PORTER SERVICE". I begged Peter to talk to them and he finally agreed. I thought they would have helped us carry the bags to a taxi and give us some advice, but instead they said they would carry our luggage to their boat, drive us to a canal near our hotel, and walk us (and our luggage) to the front door - all for 50 Euro. Peter agreed and we were off.

Boats in the Canals of Venice

Our vehicle was a long motor boat with very high sides. The driver was masterful at turning corners and passing all of the gondolas that clogged the canals. I am amazed that not one boat touched another. Venice is beautiful and so unique, it's hard to grasp that this is real and not something Disney created for Epcot. When we got off the boat, the lads led us through the alley ways to one hotel which was not ours, but with no apparent frustration they got the correct address, corrected their course and led us to Locando al Leon on the Campo St Filippo e Giacomo in Castello not far from the Piazza San Marco. We were told our room was on the 2nd floor which translates to the 3rd floor as the ground floor here is considered 0. The stairs are long, shallow, and steep, and we quickly appreciated that "free luggage service to your room upon both check-in and check-out" is part of the package here.

We unpacked completely and then set out to find a source of ice for Peter and dinner for both of us. A bar at the corner provided the former and a trattoria around the corner provided the latter. Peter had pasta with onions and anchovies for dinner and I had grilled prawns (which were divine) and a mixed salad. By the time we halled ourselves up stairs to our room over looking the Campo it was around 9:30 p.m. and we were both exhausted. We felt good that we'd made it but both pray there's never another day like this one. Sleep was welcomed around 11:00 p.m. drifting off to the sounds of Venice floating in the windows.

The Grand Canal in Venice

Ciao!

Peter in Piazza San Marco

The crowds are amazing here in the Piazza San Marco. This is a pictire I took of Peter, can you find him?

 

Images From the Train through the Austrian Alps

Lake Zurich from the Train

A challenge it was, but we were up to it ... who wouldn't be ... a train trip through the Alps from Zurich, Switzerland to Salzburg, Austria. Lakes, mountains, meadows and snow drifts - all from the comfort of our seats. THIS is why we flew in to Zurich ... so we could take the train through these magnificent mountains. Five hours on the train "flew" by and these images are indicative of what we saw.

 

 

 

 

Cafe Sacher

Sinful Sacher torte in Salzburg, Austria.

Sent from my iPhone

Claudia Danforth Ward