I had a great deal of respect for Zidane;I loved his calm demeanour and selfless spirit and of course his artistry with the ball. On Sunday night, I lost some of that after he lost his cool and head-butted the Italian player.
The media seems to be finding excuses for Zidane's behavior. I feel personally that no insult, however grievious and obnoxious it was, justifies the sort of behavior or reaction, that Zidane exhibited. He was wrong, regardless of the taunts hurled at him, and he needs to apologize.
Friday, July 14, 2006
Monday, July 10, 2006
Final impressions
I wish we had an extra day in Rome and Florence. I would have loved to visit the National Museum in Rome. The extra day in Florence would have let us visit the leaning tower of Pisa. I'd recommend four nights in Rome and Florence. That is plenty of time to see all the major sights.
Venice, to me, was a dissappointment. The only thing novel about the city is that it is built on water, but apart from that there is nothing to it. It is a shoppers paradise and people who love shopping will have a field day there. It is still a must-see and a must-visit, but I thought the day and a half we spent there was more than enough.
Italy, I found was an easy place to get around. Most people can converse in English and that makes it easy to travel. I wonder how it is in once you get into the hinterland, but I imagine it shouldn't be all that tough.
It makes sense to book ahead to the museums and galleries, so you don't have to stand in long lines and waste time. Most museums allow for reservations on the web and once there, you can collect the tickets at the will-call window. This really makes sense for the Accademia and Uffizi galleries in Florence; otherwise you will be forced to wait upwards of three hours for a ticket.
I had heard a lot about tourist scams in Italy, but I personally didn't have a bad experience. Still, I wore a money belt as precaution and I'd recommend that. I could never, however, figure out the bills at restaurants. They seemed to tack on taxes and service charges that inflated the bill. I still haven't figured out what "copperta" on the bill meant. I am used to equating service charges with tips, but I was told that is not the case in Italy, by a waiter at a restaurant. I however didn't buy that.
ATM's are the way to go in Italy. It is important to use one in a well lighted area, so that you don't fall prey to some of the scams that have been reported on the web. We used cash mostly and rarely used credit cards. Call ahead to your ATM and credit card company and inform them of your travel plans. Most banks and credit cards cancel international transactions unless you inform them of your travel plans in advance.
We booked through Costco travel, and I'd go with them again in a hearbeat. There were no glitches; I was worried about our rides, but they showed up on time at all three cities. All the hotels they booked us into were smack in the center of town and minutes from major attractions, which was extremely helpful time-wise. They are of course pricey (I think I would have saved 500-600 dollars had I booked on my own) but the trouble it saved us was well worth it.
Europe has such great culture and this trip has definitely left us intrigued and longing for more.
Venice, to me, was a dissappointment. The only thing novel about the city is that it is built on water, but apart from that there is nothing to it. It is a shoppers paradise and people who love shopping will have a field day there. It is still a must-see and a must-visit, but I thought the day and a half we spent there was more than enough.
Italy, I found was an easy place to get around. Most people can converse in English and that makes it easy to travel. I wonder how it is in once you get into the hinterland, but I imagine it shouldn't be all that tough.
It makes sense to book ahead to the museums and galleries, so you don't have to stand in long lines and waste time. Most museums allow for reservations on the web and once there, you can collect the tickets at the will-call window. This really makes sense for the Accademia and Uffizi galleries in Florence; otherwise you will be forced to wait upwards of three hours for a ticket.
I had heard a lot about tourist scams in Italy, but I personally didn't have a bad experience. Still, I wore a money belt as precaution and I'd recommend that. I could never, however, figure out the bills at restaurants. They seemed to tack on taxes and service charges that inflated the bill. I still haven't figured out what "copperta" on the bill meant. I am used to equating service charges with tips, but I was told that is not the case in Italy, by a waiter at a restaurant. I however didn't buy that.
ATM's are the way to go in Italy. It is important to use one in a well lighted area, so that you don't fall prey to some of the scams that have been reported on the web. We used cash mostly and rarely used credit cards. Call ahead to your ATM and credit card company and inform them of your travel plans. Most banks and credit cards cancel international transactions unless you inform them of your travel plans in advance.
We booked through Costco travel, and I'd go with them again in a hearbeat. There were no glitches; I was worried about our rides, but they showed up on time at all three cities. All the hotels they booked us into were smack in the center of town and minutes from major attractions, which was extremely helpful time-wise. They are of course pricey (I think I would have saved 500-600 dollars had I booked on my own) but the trouble it saved us was well worth it.
Europe has such great culture and this trip has definitely left us intrigued and longing for more.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Flight home
Our flight is at 6:15 a in the morning. Our travel agent has arranged for a water taxi to pick us up at 4:15a. Right around 4a, we get a call from the front desk informing us that our taxi is waiting. We go down and are met by the attendant. He leads us to a passageway that leads directly from the hotel to the canal, where the taxi is waiting.
It is a 30 minute ride to the airport and affords us a view of the Venice skyline while she sleeps. This experience of getting to an airport by water taxi is exhilirating, and I tell wife how lucky we are to have savored it. As the cabbie drops us off, I tip him and give him a thumbs up "Go Italy!" sign. Italy are to play France later on that night in the World Cup football final.
At the airport, there is a long line that moves slowly. Finally we are checked in and a little after 6:30a on our way out of Italy.
At Amsterdam, we head to our connection. Everyone at the gate seems to be going through a special screening. I hand the agent our boarding passes; he types something into his laptop and then waves us over to another agent.
This agent is a Pakistani and he assumes we are coming from New Delhi, India. When I correct him, he seems to be astonished that we visited Italy. More mundane questions are hurled at us and dutifully answered. He then walks over to his supervisor and returns to tell us all is fine and that we can go ahead and board.
It is a long journey home and by 5:30p we are back home in San Jose, California.
It is a 30 minute ride to the airport and affords us a view of the Venice skyline while she sleeps. This experience of getting to an airport by water taxi is exhilirating, and I tell wife how lucky we are to have savored it. As the cabbie drops us off, I tip him and give him a thumbs up "Go Italy!" sign. Italy are to play France later on that night in the World Cup football final.
At the airport, there is a long line that moves slowly. Finally we are checked in and a little after 6:30a on our way out of Italy.
At Amsterdam, we head to our connection. Everyone at the gate seems to be going through a special screening. I hand the agent our boarding passes; he types something into his laptop and then waves us over to another agent.
This agent is a Pakistani and he assumes we are coming from New Delhi, India. When I correct him, he seems to be astonished that we visited Italy. More mundane questions are hurled at us and dutifully answered. He then walks over to his supervisor and returns to tell us all is fine and that we can go ahead and board.
It is a long journey home and by 5:30p we are back home in San Jose, California.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Doge's palace
It is the last day of our vacation. This vacation has passed by extremely quickly.
Our guide: Raphael is a walking tome of knowledge. Moreover he makes things extremely interesting and without doubt is the best guide we have had on this trip. He walks us through the Renaissance and the Baroque periods of art and using examples and paintings on the wall clearly distinguishes the two.
After our tour of the palace, we are offered an optional tour of a factory where artists create glass sculptures. It is a 20 minute boat ride to the factory; inside an artist vows us by making a vase and a standing horse in minutes.
Next up, we are taken to a room full of beautiful finished pieces. We sit through a sales pitch and then are left to wander around the rooms. Wife is interested in a vase, but it is prohibitively costly. We admire a plate which is again atrociously expensive. A couple of folks fork out a bunch of money and buy some stuff. Even if only two or three people end up buying, given the prices, getting us to the factory is a great investment and a smart business move on the owner's part. Somehow, I think that the things on sale are vastly overpriced.
Back on the island, we have the tastiest pasta that I have had for lunch in a restaurant that is next to a canal. After lunch, we take a longer route back to the hotel. It is easy to get lost in Venice, as you snake your way through different narrow streets, and before long I find out that I am headed in the wrong direction. We retrace our steps back to St. Mark's Square. Wife is tired and is longing for a siesta.
I drop wife at the hotel and then head out to explore more of Venice. I wander off to the Accademia (another museum in Venice), but I am in no mood to see more museums or fork out more money to enter them. So I sit outside and watch the traffic on the canal. After a while, I head into the island and turn into random alleys on a whim. Midway through, I reach the other side of the island and watch the most gigantic cruise ship that I have ever seen make its way into the port of Venice. MSC Musica is emblazoned across its hull.
Moving on, I walk into a chocolate shop that has the daintiest chocolates that I have ever seen. I am tempted to buy some, but I fear that they'll melt in the heat before I get to the hotel.
In front of a church, I find a girl screaming into her cell phone. She is terribly mad at someone on the other end of the line, and after she hangs up, gives vent to her frustration with a violent scream.
I am now lost, but with the help of a map manage to get back on course. I meet others who seem to be in a similar predicament with maps in hand. After a good two and a half hours of walking, I reach the hotel. My feet are tired and I could use some rest.
In the evening, wife does more shopping, before we head to dinner. I order pizza, while she orders pasta. The service so far in previous restaurants has been ordinary, but the waiters here are extraordinarily good and entertaining.
We have an early morning flight to catch, so we get back to the hotel at 10 and pack up for the journey back home
Our guide: Raphael is a walking tome of knowledge. Moreover he makes things extremely interesting and without doubt is the best guide we have had on this trip. He walks us through the Renaissance and the Baroque periods of art and using examples and paintings on the wall clearly distinguishes the two.
After our tour of the palace, we are offered an optional tour of a factory where artists create glass sculptures. It is a 20 minute boat ride to the factory; inside an artist vows us by making a vase and a standing horse in minutes.
Next up, we are taken to a room full of beautiful finished pieces. We sit through a sales pitch and then are left to wander around the rooms. Wife is interested in a vase, but it is prohibitively costly. We admire a plate which is again atrociously expensive. A couple of folks fork out a bunch of money and buy some stuff. Even if only two or three people end up buying, given the prices, getting us to the factory is a great investment and a smart business move on the owner's part. Somehow, I think that the things on sale are vastly overpriced.
Back on the island, we have the tastiest pasta that I have had for lunch in a restaurant that is next to a canal. After lunch, we take a longer route back to the hotel. It is easy to get lost in Venice, as you snake your way through different narrow streets, and before long I find out that I am headed in the wrong direction. We retrace our steps back to St. Mark's Square. Wife is tired and is longing for a siesta.
I drop wife at the hotel and then head out to explore more of Venice. I wander off to the Accademia (another museum in Venice), but I am in no mood to see more museums or fork out more money to enter them. So I sit outside and watch the traffic on the canal. After a while, I head into the island and turn into random alleys on a whim. Midway through, I reach the other side of the island and watch the most gigantic cruise ship that I have ever seen make its way into the port of Venice. MSC Musica is emblazoned across its hull.
Moving on, I walk into a chocolate shop that has the daintiest chocolates that I have ever seen. I am tempted to buy some, but I fear that they'll melt in the heat before I get to the hotel.
In front of a church, I find a girl screaming into her cell phone. She is terribly mad at someone on the other end of the line, and after she hangs up, gives vent to her frustration with a violent scream.
I am now lost, but with the help of a map manage to get back on course. I meet others who seem to be in a similar predicament with maps in hand. After a good two and a half hours of walking, I reach the hotel. My feet are tired and I could use some rest.
In the evening, wife does more shopping, before we head to dinner. I order pizza, while she orders pasta. The service so far in previous restaurants has been ordinary, but the waiters here are extraordinarily good and entertaining.
We have an early morning flight to catch, so we get back to the hotel at 10 and pack up for the journey back home
Friday, July 07, 2006
St Mark's Square
It is raining outside, but the hotel has an umbrella that we can borrow. Venice is full of shops and tourists. The small alleys can leave someone with a predilection for claustrophobia dizzy. Well built hunks offer to take us on a gondola ride, but it isn't a pleasing prospect in the rain. Moreover, the prices they quote are steep. Our travel book suggests that we take a ride on the waterbus instead, which will provide the same experience.
Wife disappears into shops every now and then, while I engage in people watching. Towards the evening the rain subsides and I can finally put away the umbrella.
St Mark's Square has a church on one end, whose shape reminds me of the structures in Kremlin that I have seen in pictures. I find out the next day, that indeed the building has a lot of Russian influence.
The square has scores of people. In the center, a flock of pigeons are being fed by tourists. Every now and then, the pigeons flutter into the sky in a graceful arc and everyone (including me) reach for their cameras to get a picture. There are so many pigeons that the local government injects pigeon feed with birth control.
Wife disappears into shops every now and then, while I engage in people watching. Towards the evening the rain subsides and I can finally put away the umbrella.
St Mark's Square has a church on one end, whose shape reminds me of the structures in Kremlin that I have seen in pictures. I find out the next day, that indeed the building has a lot of Russian influence.
The square has scores of people. In the center, a flock of pigeons are being fed by tourists. Every now and then, the pigeons flutter into the sky in a graceful arc and everyone (including me) reach for their cameras to get a picture. There are so many pigeons that the local government injects pigeon feed with birth control.
Venetia
Our train to Venice is at 10:40 a. We leave the hotel around 9:30a and take the short cab ride to the train station.
Our experience at Rome Termini station has schooled us in the etiquette of train travel. We search for the board and locate our train on the electronic information boards. We find a bench to sit on while we wait for the platform information to be updated. There is some confusion as to whether we need to validate our tickets. To be on the safe side, I head to one of the yellow validating machines next to the platform and stick our ticket in.
Our train arrives on platform 11. We climb in and stow our bags. This is going to be a three hour journey through Bologna and several other stations. Midway through our journey, the train comes to a halt and doesn't move for over half an hour. An announcement in Italian suggests that there are some technical problems. There is no announcement in English.
Finally, we are on our way again. Outside, it is raining heavily and as we near Venice, the rain intensifies.
Our hotel website suggests that water buses are the easiest way to get to the hotel. Once we are out of the train station, I head to the water bus ticket counter and buy a ticket on the 82 to St. Mark's Square. The buses are called vaporettos and this is a unique experience. When the bus arrives, it is crowded, but we still manage to pile on with our luggage. When we reach Rialto station, the bus empties and we find seats to sit.
From our stop, our hotel is a short walk and by 3p we are checked into our room.
Our experience at Rome Termini station has schooled us in the etiquette of train travel. We search for the board and locate our train on the electronic information boards. We find a bench to sit on while we wait for the platform information to be updated. There is some confusion as to whether we need to validate our tickets. To be on the safe side, I head to one of the yellow validating machines next to the platform and stick our ticket in.
Our train arrives on platform 11. We climb in and stow our bags. This is going to be a three hour journey through Bologna and several other stations. Midway through our journey, the train comes to a halt and doesn't move for over half an hour. An announcement in Italian suggests that there are some technical problems. There is no announcement in English.
Finally, we are on our way again. Outside, it is raining heavily and as we near Venice, the rain intensifies.
Our hotel website suggests that water buses are the easiest way to get to the hotel. Once we are out of the train station, I head to the water bus ticket counter and buy a ticket on the 82 to St. Mark's Square. The buses are called vaporettos and this is a unique experience. When the bus arrives, it is crowded, but we still manage to pile on with our luggage. When we reach Rialto station, the bus empties and we find seats to sit.
From our stop, our hotel is a short walk and by 3p we are checked into our room.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Our first sit-down dinner
Tonight we ventured out to our first sit-down dinner. It's in a square, a block away from our hotel. I opt to order spaghetti with tomato sauce (you cannot go wrong with it, can you?), while wife opts for some salad. We order a glass of wine each.
There is a band playing in the middle of the square and the music makes for good company during dinner. On another side of the square, a girl is singing and she has managed to attract a large audience.
The pasta is good, while wife says her salad is ordinary. With appetizer and no dessert, the bill comes to fifty euros, which wife thinks is a little steep.
Afterwards, wife wants to listen to the girl sing and so we wander over there. She is very good and we listen for a half hour. When we leave, we offer her some change.
Tonight is our last night in Florence.
There is a band playing in the middle of the square and the music makes for good company during dinner. On another side of the square, a girl is singing and she has managed to attract a large audience.
The pasta is good, while wife says her salad is ordinary. With appetizer and no dessert, the bill comes to fifty euros, which wife thinks is a little steep.
Afterwards, wife wants to listen to the girl sing and so we wander over there. She is very good and we listen for a half hour. When we leave, we offer her some change.
Tonight is our last night in Florence.
Accademia and Uffizi
We have a meeting time of 11:15 for our guided tour of the Accademia. We get there well in advance and wait for our guide to show up.
Inside, the museum houses the original piece of Michaelangelo's David. He is a handsome man indeed, stark naked, poised with a sling over his shoulder. His cool eyes suggest that he is sizing up an adversary in the most phlegmatic manner possible, ready to uncoil a torpedo at an instants notice. At least that is my interpretation.
Our guide is a wealth of knowledge and she douses us with a surfeit of facts. For instance, we are told that Michaelangelo scraped the marble used to create his sculptures, unlike other artists who used chisels. His creations took years to complete and many of his sculptures remain unfinished. We spend a couple of hours wandering through the museum, but the main attraction is really David.
Afterwards, we get lunch and walk through the flea market again. Wife wants to do more shopping and I indulge in more people watching.
Our tour of the Uffizi is at 4:15 in the afternoon, so we head back to the hotel to rest. The same folks who joined the tour at the Accademia show up at the Uffizi. Our guide is Monica and she has a rather funny way of saying "Mother Mary" as she explains various paintings. I am tired and all the information that our guide throws at us ends up clogging my brain and I eventually tune out; wife seems to be very interested though, and I think I can always ask her if I am intrigued about something.
Both the Accademia and the Uffizi prohibit pictures, so I have to rein in the photographer in me.
Inside, the museum houses the original piece of Michaelangelo's David. He is a handsome man indeed, stark naked, poised with a sling over his shoulder. His cool eyes suggest that he is sizing up an adversary in the most phlegmatic manner possible, ready to uncoil a torpedo at an instants notice. At least that is my interpretation.
Our guide is a wealth of knowledge and she douses us with a surfeit of facts. For instance, we are told that Michaelangelo scraped the marble used to create his sculptures, unlike other artists who used chisels. His creations took years to complete and many of his sculptures remain unfinished. We spend a couple of hours wandering through the museum, but the main attraction is really David.
Afterwards, we get lunch and walk through the flea market again. Wife wants to do more shopping and I indulge in more people watching.
Our tour of the Uffizi is at 4:15 in the afternoon, so we head back to the hotel to rest. The same folks who joined the tour at the Accademia show up at the Uffizi. Our guide is Monica and she has a rather funny way of saying "Mother Mary" as she explains various paintings. I am tired and all the information that our guide throws at us ends up clogging my brain and I eventually tune out; wife seems to be very interested though, and I think I can always ask her if I am intrigued about something.
Both the Accademia and the Uffizi prohibit pictures, so I have to rein in the photographer in me.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
A game of cat and mouse
Florence seems to be teeming with counterfeiters. When the shops close around 7p in the evening, they come out in droves and set shop on either side of streets. They bring their fake purses and wallets in gunny bags, slung over their shoulders. Most of them are dark skinned, tall and lanky and I wonder what their ethnicity is.
An interesting thing happens when the local police arrives. As soon as they spy a policeman, the counterfeiters pick up their goods, wrap it up in their gunny bags and slink away. Once the policeman go away, they are back setting up shop. This game of cat and mouse continues through the evening. As far as I can tell, no arrests are made.
Further north from our hotel is a thriving flea market, with shops on either side, full of fake ties, scarves and leather jackets. Ironically, the street is next to an ancient church. Piety and crass materialism co-exist in an tight embrace within the space of a few feet.
An interesting thing happens when the local police arrives. As soon as they spy a policeman, the counterfeiters pick up their goods, wrap it up in their gunny bags and slink away. Once the policeman go away, they are back setting up shop. This game of cat and mouse continues through the evening. As far as I can tell, no arrests are made.
Further north from our hotel is a thriving flea market, with shops on either side, full of fake ties, scarves and leather jackets. Ironically, the street is next to an ancient church. Piety and crass materialism co-exist in an tight embrace within the space of a few feet.
Tuscany
Our guide shows up at 9a. Today we will drive through the Tuscan countryside to Siena and San Gimignano.
Siena is a hour and a half ride. The two lane highway is narrow, with barely enough room for the big trucks. Our guide is Massimo, and he points out various historical sites on the way to Siena.
Siena is full of narrow alleys, which reminds me of villages in India. Some tourists forego Florence and instead spend time in Siena, preferring to take day trips to Florence and Rome. Now that I am in Siena, I think I know why. It has a nice small town atmosphere that is extremely attractive.
We buy wine and pasta at a local store. Wife picks up more hand sketches elsewhere. We wander down to the Piazza Il' Campo. It is a huge square with City Hall on one side; on other sides are shops and restaurants. It is 12 in the afternoon, with the sun beating down on us. The guide book says that the square in the evening is teeming with people and takes on an entirely different character.
This has been a short visit to Siena. We have barely an hour or two to spend. It is on to San Gimignano..
The ride to SG is beautiful and takes us through rolling hillsides and vineyards. The Tuscan countryside reminds me of the ride on Highway one through Paso Rables in California. SG is a village inside a fort that sits right on top of a hill. There are shops galore, and plenty of wine shops. The local grape is called Vernaccia and we buy some more wine.
After lunch, I sense that I am catching a cold. My throat's begun to scratch. Around 2, we head back to Firenze.
Siena is a hour and a half ride. The two lane highway is narrow, with barely enough room for the big trucks. Our guide is Massimo, and he points out various historical sites on the way to Siena.
Siena is full of narrow alleys, which reminds me of villages in India. Some tourists forego Florence and instead spend time in Siena, preferring to take day trips to Florence and Rome. Now that I am in Siena, I think I know why. It has a nice small town atmosphere that is extremely attractive.
We buy wine and pasta at a local store. Wife picks up more hand sketches elsewhere. We wander down to the Piazza Il' Campo. It is a huge square with City Hall on one side; on other sides are shops and restaurants. It is 12 in the afternoon, with the sun beating down on us. The guide book says that the square in the evening is teeming with people and takes on an entirely different character.
This has been a short visit to Siena. We have barely an hour or two to spend. It is on to San Gimignano..
The ride to SG is beautiful and takes us through rolling hillsides and vineyards. The Tuscan countryside reminds me of the ride on Highway one through Paso Rables in California. SG is a village inside a fort that sits right on top of a hill. There are shops galore, and plenty of wine shops. The local grape is called Vernaccia and we buy some more wine.
After lunch, I sense that I am catching a cold. My throat's begun to scratch. Around 2, we head back to Firenze.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Italy beats Germany
The game suddenly came alive in the last few minutes of the second overtime. Wife supports Italy, but I think that is because we are in Italy.
Outside, we can hear the hooting and hollering from our hotel room; wife wants to see it with her own eyes. We step outside and the streets are full of people waving the Italian flag. Some are screaming, some are crying tears of joy. There are cries of "Italia! Italia!" everywhere. Waiters outside restaurants are hugging each other; some are talking excitedly into their cellphones. A few boys are banging on drums. The streets of Florence are alive and happy and tonight everybody is celebrating Italy's victory over Germany in the World Cup semi-final.
Outside, we can hear the hooting and hollering from our hotel room; wife wants to see it with her own eyes. We step outside and the streets are full of people waving the Italian flag. Some are screaming, some are crying tears of joy. There are cries of "Italia! Italia!" everywhere. Waiters outside restaurants are hugging each other; some are talking excitedly into their cellphones. A few boys are banging on drums. The streets of Florence are alive and happy and tonight everybody is celebrating Italy's victory over Germany in the World Cup semi-final.
Firenze
Right around 2p.m. we arrive in Firenze, the local name for Florence. Our hotel is a short five minute cab ride.
Florence has two must-see galleries: the Accademia and the Uffizi. Unfortunately, tickets are scarce and involve waiting in long lines. The smart folks reserve in advance via the web, but we haven't done that. The hotel offers an alternative, albeit a costly alternative. For double the price of a normal ticket, we can get into a guided tour. We opt for that.
We decide to head to Palazzo Pitti, which is a 10 minute walk. On the way, we walk over Ponte Vecchio, which is a famous bridge on the Arno river, with shops on either side built on the bridge. The Arno river cuts through the south side of Florence.
The tickets at Pitti Palace have a maze of options, and we spend some time debating what ticket we should buy. There are exhibits and galleries inside, but unfortunately most exhibits have descriptions in Italian only. The Pitti Palace forbids photographs and we find out later that most galleries in Florence forbid photography.
We head to the Baboli gardens that are behind the palace and it is a steep climb up to the top. The hot steamy weather has followed us from Rome, and there is no cool breeze to be had. We walk in the shade as much as possible. From atop the hill, I get a great view of the city of Florence, which is down in a valley surrounded by hills on either side.
There is an International Chorus competition going on in the main square of the palace and we spend some time listening to the young boys and girls sing.
On the way back, wife picks up a painting or two. The owner cannot speak English, but she shows us a book, with photographs, that has pictures of the artist creating the painting.
Dinner will be sandwiches tonight. Tomorrow we will drive through the Tuscan countryside.
Florence has two must-see galleries: the Accademia and the Uffizi. Unfortunately, tickets are scarce and involve waiting in long lines. The smart folks reserve in advance via the web, but we haven't done that. The hotel offers an alternative, albeit a costly alternative. For double the price of a normal ticket, we can get into a guided tour. We opt for that.
We decide to head to Palazzo Pitti, which is a 10 minute walk. On the way, we walk over Ponte Vecchio, which is a famous bridge on the Arno river, with shops on either side built on the bridge. The Arno river cuts through the south side of Florence.
The tickets at Pitti Palace have a maze of options, and we spend some time debating what ticket we should buy. There are exhibits and galleries inside, but unfortunately most exhibits have descriptions in Italian only. The Pitti Palace forbids photographs and we find out later that most galleries in Florence forbid photography.
We head to the Baboli gardens that are behind the palace and it is a steep climb up to the top. The hot steamy weather has followed us from Rome, and there is no cool breeze to be had. We walk in the shade as much as possible. From atop the hill, I get a great view of the city of Florence, which is down in a valley surrounded by hills on either side.
There is an International Chorus competition going on in the main square of the palace and we spend some time listening to the young boys and girls sing.
On the way back, wife picks up a painting or two. The owner cannot speak English, but she shows us a book, with photographs, that has pictures of the artist creating the painting.
Dinner will be sandwiches tonight. Tomorrow we will drive through the Tuscan countryside.
Train journey
It is Independence Day back in the U.S. We'll take the train to Florence today.
There are early morning flutters - we are not quite sure if the ride our travel agent has arranged from the hotel to the train station, will show up. There's been no contact nor a confirmation; efforts to reach the contact number listed on our travel brochure turn out to be futile. To add to it, cabbies are on strike in Rome, which the guy at the front desk informs me is a regular occurrence. The only way to get to the train station is to walk it.
Right at the stroke of 10:30, our ride arrives and drops us off at the train station.
It's our first time traveling by train, and we don't know where to look. Rome Termini train station looks exactly like one of the many train stations in India. The problem is that the signs are in Italian and making sense of it ain't easy. Wife spots a line where all the tourists seem to be lining up. It is the information desk, so I get in line. The attendant tells me that our train will arrive on platform number four. Wife doesn't believe him. Another attendant tells us to watch the electronic boards in front of us. When our train arrives, the correct platform number will be posted, she says. Who do we believe?
Finally, we decide to watch the boards. As we wait, wife and I keep a watchful eye on our bags. Rome Termini, we have read, is notorious for pickpockets. There is even a vantage point from atop the bus station, where you can watch the pros steal wallets.
After what seems an eternity, our train is updated with the platform number and it is not four. We are glad we didn't listen to the guy at the information desk.
We locate our coach and wife clambers in. There seems to be some commotion, with a couple of girls rubbing up against one of the passengers climbing down. Later on, wife tells me that the two girls picked the wallet of the woman disembarking. But the woman found out, and yelled after them, and the girls quickly returned the wallet before fleeing. Great escape!
I stow away our bags and settle into one of the plush seats. This is going to be a short hour long train journey to Florence. Pretty soon, we are on our way.
There are early morning flutters - we are not quite sure if the ride our travel agent has arranged from the hotel to the train station, will show up. There's been no contact nor a confirmation; efforts to reach the contact number listed on our travel brochure turn out to be futile. To add to it, cabbies are on strike in Rome, which the guy at the front desk informs me is a regular occurrence. The only way to get to the train station is to walk it.
Right at the stroke of 10:30, our ride arrives and drops us off at the train station.
It's our first time traveling by train, and we don't know where to look. Rome Termini train station looks exactly like one of the many train stations in India. The problem is that the signs are in Italian and making sense of it ain't easy. Wife spots a line where all the tourists seem to be lining up. It is the information desk, so I get in line. The attendant tells me that our train will arrive on platform number four. Wife doesn't believe him. Another attendant tells us to watch the electronic boards in front of us. When our train arrives, the correct platform number will be posted, she says. Who do we believe?
Finally, we decide to watch the boards. As we wait, wife and I keep a watchful eye on our bags. Rome Termini, we have read, is notorious for pickpockets. There is even a vantage point from atop the bus station, where you can watch the pros steal wallets.
After what seems an eternity, our train is updated with the platform number and it is not four. We are glad we didn't listen to the guy at the information desk.
We locate our coach and wife clambers in. There seems to be some commotion, with a couple of girls rubbing up against one of the passengers climbing down. Later on, wife tells me that the two girls picked the wallet of the woman disembarking. But the woman found out, and yelled after them, and the girls quickly returned the wallet before fleeing. Great escape!
I stow away our bags and settle into one of the plush seats. This is going to be a short hour long train journey to Florence. Pretty soon, we are on our way.
Monday, July 03, 2006
Last night in Rome
Tonight is our last night in Rome. Tomorrow we head to Florence.
I want to see the Pantheon floodlit - so we walk there in the evening. The days are long in July and as the clock turns 9 in the evening, the last streaks of daylight filter through the evening sky.
We sit on the fountain in front of the Pantheon and wait for the floodlights to come on, which is an awfully slow process. Around 9:30p, we are hungry. Bang opposite the Pantheon is a McDonald's and we elect to eat there. This is definitely the McDonald's with the most breathtaking view that we have eaten at yet.
Around 10, we return back to the hotel and turn in for the night.
I want to see the Pantheon floodlit - so we walk there in the evening. The days are long in July and as the clock turns 9 in the evening, the last streaks of daylight filter through the evening sky.
We sit on the fountain in front of the Pantheon and wait for the floodlights to come on, which is an awfully slow process. Around 9:30p, we are hungry. Bang opposite the Pantheon is a McDonald's and we elect to eat there. This is definitely the McDonald's with the most breathtaking view that we have eaten at yet.
Around 10, we return back to the hotel and turn in for the night.
Spanish steps
The cabbie on the way back is a woman. She drops us off close to the Spanish Steps. The road leading up to the Spanish steps is lined with upscale shops. There is a Prada here and a Gucci there. I roll my eyes when I see a purse with a price tag of 8500 euros.
Wife is interested in a few cloth stores and steps in, while I stand on the sidewalk and engage in some people watching.
Spanish Steps was where foreigners gathered. Close to the steps is a house where John Keats died in. There is a fountain on one side of the sqaure and an obelisk on the other. Several folks are seated on the steps. It is strictly forbidden to eat on the steps, and nearby Italian policeman keep a watchful eye for transgressors. I hear that they hand out a stiff fine to violators.
It is another hot and steamy day. Around 3p, we head back to the hotel and like most Italians elect to take an afternoon nap.
Wife is interested in a few cloth stores and steps in, while I stand on the sidewalk and engage in some people watching.
Spanish Steps was where foreigners gathered. Close to the steps is a house where John Keats died in. There is a fountain on one side of the sqaure and an obelisk on the other. Several folks are seated on the steps. It is strictly forbidden to eat on the steps, and nearby Italian policeman keep a watchful eye for transgressors. I hear that they hand out a stiff fine to violators.
It is another hot and steamy day. Around 3p, we head back to the hotel and like most Italians elect to take an afternoon nap.
Vatican Museum
Today, we plan to visit the Vatican museum and the Sistine Chapel that is inside it. We have read that there always long lines to get in during the tourist season, but we try to head out early and beat the rush. We are up early and out of the hotel by 8a.
For the first time, we ride in a taxi. When we reach the Museum, I can't figure out what the actual fare is, but hand the cabbie ten euros, which he gladly accepts. It is 8:45 a and the line is already huge, snaking around the edge of the Museum. We join the end of the line and wait patiently; our plans of beating the rush have taken a backseat. In front of us, a gaggle of Japanese tourists provide constant entertainment; wife is amused by their tour guide who has the funkiest set of shades she has seen and a shirt that defies description. After an hour and a half of waiting, we get into the museum at 10:30a.
As we ride up the escalator, wife points to an entourage that has gotten on behind us. I recognize a familiar face; it is India's railway minister: Laloo Prasad Yadav. What's he doing at the Vatican museum, we wonder.
Inside, we spy the Vatican Post Office. Locals tell us that the Vatican Post is more reliable than Italian Post and the stamps are a collectors item. On a whim, we post ourselves a card.
The signs inside the Museum are confusing and that makes navigating difficult. But we follow Rick Steve's advice and soldier on.
There are a bunch of exhibits that one has to pass through, before getting to the Sistine Chapel. On the way, we see some amazing paintings, wall carvings and frescoes. Finally after a romp through the Modern Art gallery - that is very ordinary - we reach the Sistine Chapel.
On one side of the room is a raised platform; a Museum guard stands on it and walks back and forth urging people to move on. On the other three sides of the room are benches - all occupied by tourists. We crane our heads upwards; the paintings on the wall are extraordinary. It took Michaelangelo four years to complete the paintings and each one tells a story. This is the room that the Cardinals are locked in when they gather to elect a Pope.
There are many visitors like us and faint whispers can be heard. The Museum guard shouts for silence every few seconds and quite ironically he seems to be the only one creating a racket with his constant admonitions.
There are two exits out of the Sistine Chapel and we take the one that leads directly to St. Peter's Basilica. We liked the Church so much, that we decided to visit it again today.
On the way out, we locate another branch of the Vatican Post office and mail our parents a card.
Yesterday, we saw the Pope and today we got to view the Sistine Chapel. This trip has been well worth it.
For the first time, we ride in a taxi. When we reach the Museum, I can't figure out what the actual fare is, but hand the cabbie ten euros, which he gladly accepts. It is 8:45 a and the line is already huge, snaking around the edge of the Museum. We join the end of the line and wait patiently; our plans of beating the rush have taken a backseat. In front of us, a gaggle of Japanese tourists provide constant entertainment; wife is amused by their tour guide who has the funkiest set of shades she has seen and a shirt that defies description. After an hour and a half of waiting, we get into the museum at 10:30a.
As we ride up the escalator, wife points to an entourage that has gotten on behind us. I recognize a familiar face; it is India's railway minister: Laloo Prasad Yadav. What's he doing at the Vatican museum, we wonder.
Inside, we spy the Vatican Post Office. Locals tell us that the Vatican Post is more reliable than Italian Post and the stamps are a collectors item. On a whim, we post ourselves a card.
The signs inside the Museum are confusing and that makes navigating difficult. But we follow Rick Steve's advice and soldier on.
There are a bunch of exhibits that one has to pass through, before getting to the Sistine Chapel. On the way, we see some amazing paintings, wall carvings and frescoes. Finally after a romp through the Modern Art gallery - that is very ordinary - we reach the Sistine Chapel.
On one side of the room is a raised platform; a Museum guard stands on it and walks back and forth urging people to move on. On the other three sides of the room are benches - all occupied by tourists. We crane our heads upwards; the paintings on the wall are extraordinary. It took Michaelangelo four years to complete the paintings and each one tells a story. This is the room that the Cardinals are locked in when they gather to elect a Pope.
There are many visitors like us and faint whispers can be heard. The Museum guard shouts for silence every few seconds and quite ironically he seems to be the only one creating a racket with his constant admonitions.
There are two exits out of the Sistine Chapel and we take the one that leads directly to St. Peter's Basilica. We liked the Church so much, that we decided to visit it again today.
On the way out, we locate another branch of the Vatican Post office and mail our parents a card.
Yesterday, we saw the Pope and today we got to view the Sistine Chapel. This trip has been well worth it.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Colloseum and the Forum
Our guide drops us off close to the Colloseum. On the way, we pick up lunch and water. Water is pricey in Rome; a small bottle costs us 2 euro. Later, we learn that we can buy the same thing in a supermarket for 30 cents.
The Colloseum is crowded and there is long line for tickets. Rick Steve's travel book, which I have with me, suggests that the ticket office down the road has shorter lines. So we head there and indeed I am second in line.
The ticket is valid for Palatine Hill and the Colloseum. From atop Palatine Hill, I get great shots of the Forum and the Rome skyline. Right behind us is Circo Massimo, where the World Cup Football matches are being shown on large screen TV.
It is sticky and hot and so we take a break under a tree, before heading to the Colloseum. At the Colloseum, the stairs to the top level are steep and we grunt our way up to the top. Looking at the ruins, I am reminded of the film Gladiators, that Russel Crowe starred in.
We head back to the hotel around 6p. We are completely exhausted and after a quick meal, sound asleep by 8p.
The Colloseum is crowded and there is long line for tickets. Rick Steve's travel book, which I have with me, suggests that the ticket office down the road has shorter lines. So we head there and indeed I am second in line.
The ticket is valid for Palatine Hill and the Colloseum. From atop Palatine Hill, I get great shots of the Forum and the Rome skyline. Right behind us is Circo Massimo, where the World Cup Football matches are being shown on large screen TV.
It is sticky and hot and so we take a break under a tree, before heading to the Colloseum. At the Colloseum, the stairs to the top level are steep and we grunt our way up to the top. Looking at the ruins, I am reminded of the film Gladiators, that Russel Crowe starred in.
We head back to the hotel around 6p. We are completely exhausted and after a quick meal, sound asleep by 8p.
St Peter's Square
Our agent has arranged for an early morning tour of Rome. Our first stop is the Trevi Fountain; wife chucks another coin. Later on we head to the Pantheon. It is an impressive structure and awe inspiring. Our guide tells us that the front doors are 6 tonnes each, and the 16 columns in front, bear the entire weight of the church. Inside, a service is going on, and a priest is in the middle of his sermon. The architecture leaves us amazed.
Our next stop is St. Peter's Basilica inside Vatican City. It is an imposing structure, one that I have seen often on the telly. To actually see it in person is a totally different experience. There is a long line of people waiting to get in. At the front entrance, we pass through metal detectors, a reminder of the dangers our world poses.
Inside, the church is beautiful. We peer up at the dome that Michaelangelo designed and watch as folks kiss the feet of St. Peter. The place is teeming with people. On Sundays, the Pope appears at his apartment window and offers his blessings, and that explains the crowd.
Close to noon, we head to the Square and find scores of people gathered there already. At the stroke of noon, the Pontiff appears and gives his blessings. Folks wave back; some break down in tears. It is a moment that will remain with us for a long time.
Our guide has told us to return by 12:20 and so halfway through his sermon, we head back to our meeting point.
We can't believe that we actually got to see the Pope.
Our next stop is St. Peter's Basilica inside Vatican City. It is an imposing structure, one that I have seen often on the telly. To actually see it in person is a totally different experience. There is a long line of people waiting to get in. At the front entrance, we pass through metal detectors, a reminder of the dangers our world poses.
Inside, the church is beautiful. We peer up at the dome that Michaelangelo designed and watch as folks kiss the feet of St. Peter. The place is teeming with people. On Sundays, the Pope appears at his apartment window and offers his blessings, and that explains the crowd.
Close to noon, we head to the Square and find scores of people gathered there already. At the stroke of noon, the Pontiff appears and gives his blessings. Folks wave back; some break down in tears. It is a moment that will remain with us for a long time.
Our guide has told us to return by 12:20 and so halfway through his sermon, we head back to our meeting point.
We can't believe that we actually got to see the Pope.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Rome: At the airport
We booked our tickets late, and so we had to take a long haul flight with two stops to Rome. At the airport, we wonder if the ride our travel agent had arranged is there to pick us up. Indeed, he is, holding up a sign with our names on it.
On the way out of baggage claim, we wonder if we have to go through passport control. We ask an officer, and in his broken English, he explains that we already did that at our first port of entry, which was Amsterdam.
Outside, it is hot and Wife quickly sheds her jacket. On the two lane highway, our driver drives like a maniac, shoving any traffic in front of him to the side. He seems to be in a hurry to get elsewhere; wife and I think it must be the World Cup football game that is starting in 30 minutes. 25 minutes later, he drops us next to the hotel and whizzes off.
I knock on the side door, but nobody responds. I peer in and can see an abandoned front desk with furniture strewn around and building material on the floor. What? Did our agent book us a hotel that has been abandoned? I press a bell that is next to the door and still nobody responds. Wife asks me to check the side of the building and I do. Nothing there. It is 4:30 in the afternoon, and I have heard that Italians often take the afternoon off for a long siesta. Is that the case here?
Fortunately a bell-boy sees us and comes to fetch us. We were at the wrong door. The main entrance is further ahead.
We are checked in and showered. At the front desk, I am handed a map of the city. Peering at it, I find that our hotel is walking distance from all the main attractions.
Right next to our hotel is Trevi Fountain or Fontana di Trevi as the locals call it. It is alive, with hordes of people chucking coins into the fountain, with their backs to it, and over their left shoulder. That action according to legend guarantees a return trip to Rome. Wife does it and so do I.
We decide against a sit-down dinner and instead grab some pizza for dinner. On the way, we find a crowd watching the England-Portugal World Cup match on a large screen TV. The game has gone to a penalty shootout and we watch as England falter. The crowd groans everytime Portugal misses and cheers when England scores. But that seems strange to me for quite a few in the crowd are dressed in Portugal colors. I wonder if the Italians are cheering on the English, so that they can avoid playing Portugal in the semis.
We wander around some more. France plays Brazil later in the night and wife wants to watch that on the telly. So we head to the hotel. Tonight will be our first night in the Eternal City of Rome.
On the way out of baggage claim, we wonder if we have to go through passport control. We ask an officer, and in his broken English, he explains that we already did that at our first port of entry, which was Amsterdam.
Outside, it is hot and Wife quickly sheds her jacket. On the two lane highway, our driver drives like a maniac, shoving any traffic in front of him to the side. He seems to be in a hurry to get elsewhere; wife and I think it must be the World Cup football game that is starting in 30 minutes. 25 minutes later, he drops us next to the hotel and whizzes off.
I knock on the side door, but nobody responds. I peer in and can see an abandoned front desk with furniture strewn around and building material on the floor. What? Did our agent book us a hotel that has been abandoned? I press a bell that is next to the door and still nobody responds. Wife asks me to check the side of the building and I do. Nothing there. It is 4:30 in the afternoon, and I have heard that Italians often take the afternoon off for a long siesta. Is that the case here?
Fortunately a bell-boy sees us and comes to fetch us. We were at the wrong door. The main entrance is further ahead.
We are checked in and showered. At the front desk, I am handed a map of the city. Peering at it, I find that our hotel is walking distance from all the main attractions.
Right next to our hotel is Trevi Fountain or Fontana di Trevi as the locals call it. It is alive, with hordes of people chucking coins into the fountain, with their backs to it, and over their left shoulder. That action according to legend guarantees a return trip to Rome. Wife does it and so do I.
We decide against a sit-down dinner and instead grab some pizza for dinner. On the way, we find a crowd watching the England-Portugal World Cup match on a large screen TV. The game has gone to a penalty shootout and we watch as England falter. The crowd groans everytime Portugal misses and cheers when England scores. But that seems strange to me for quite a few in the crowd are dressed in Portugal colors. I wonder if the Italians are cheering on the English, so that they can avoid playing Portugal in the semis.
We wander around some more. France plays Brazil later in the night and wife wants to watch that on the telly. So we head to the hotel. Tonight will be our first night in the Eternal City of Rome.
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