Mexico 2010--Zihuatanejo I

Mexico 2010: Zihuatanejo to Oaxaca - First dispatch

Saturday afternoon in Zihuatanejo. We have 3 more days, but while I have good internet access, I'm sending this. Link to the photo album: http://picasaweb.google.com/wrinkles45/ZihuatanejoI#

I'm stuck with Wordpad on this laptop, without Spellcheck, so I apologize for the typos I don't catch.


Mexico City Airport.

Familiar Sala B for domestic flights. I've hung out here in the past with Mary, waiting for a connecting flight. And, the gal who sweeps the floor every few mintures is still here too! I've still got 3+ hours before catching a Mexicana flight to Zihuatanejo, where Deanna promises to be waiting with a guy in a white VW bug, just oustside the airport (To avoid lining the pocket of an airport taxi dirver). She's been in Ixtapa for a couple of days, getting a headstart on vacationing. Mary and her friend Claudia are due in tomorrow afternoon.

The only causalty I'm aware of so far is my 2006 Lonely Planet Mexico guidebook. 'Good thing I didn't spring for a 2010 edition. Mary has a current Foder's Mexico we can consult. I think I left it on the floor under my seat on the plane here in DF (Distrito Federal). I was focused on filling out the immigration forms, which I didn't do a good job on--when I got to Customs I was sent to the side to fill in about 6 spaces I hadn't completed. Those Mexican customs forms have hard-to-find signature lines.

Decision: do I set my phone alarm and try to catch some sleep, drapped over my carry-on & computer bag, or not? I got some sleep on the leg from LA. 'Had a few tense minutes, standing in the looong security line at Bradley International (part of LAX)--very reminiscent of the lengthy wait Lucy and I had, to get thru security on our way to Australia several years ago, not long after 9/11. They saw that my boarding was underway and shuttled me to a shorter line. Those who allow plenty of time get punished--left in the regular line, which can take an hour or more!

Here in the airport, I changed $20 at 11.60 pesos to the $. I hope banks will give a better rate. Consulting on line before I left home, I saw the peso has been strengthening against the $ in recent months. First liter of water, 25 pesos! I 'spose a bottle of water in a US airport would be somewhat more than a couple of bucks.

Room 401, Villa Vera Puerto Mo, Zihuatanejo

'Got up this morning, eager to catch up on emails. Last night I agreed to a 200 peso enrollment fee to use the resort's web connection for the week (At 12 pesos/$, less than $17 and about $2.40/day--I'll try to censure some of my deal-making thinking here...!) Deanna went to bed too early and had trouble sleeping, so it seemed like a good opportunity to sip coffee and respond to online messages. After searching all compartments of my new laptop bag, I came to the frustrating conclusion that I left the power cord to the laptop at home. So much for Mary's gift of St. Anne, the saint of lost objects. And her checklist to not leave things at home (of course, I only crossed off the clothing items on the list--I didn't allow enough packing time to get down to "computer & charger").

I called Raul, our cabbie that Deannie found yesterday--to pick me up just outside the airport. He took me to the electronics store and loaned me 50 pesos--I figured 700 would be more than enough, but the price was 750 pesos. I'll be repaying him momentarily, when we go to the airport to pick up Mary and Claudia.

...Thursday morning. Coffee's on. Claudia's trying to get some sleep, after being awake during the night. I am back from the lobby, where strong internet signal didn't help me get to my email. Oh well, hopefully later.

...Friday morning. 'Been too much going on to find time to blog. We'll be doing breakfast soon, then the gals are heading to town to shop, without me. I see an opening to catch up here. . Tuesday arrival of Mary and Claudia went smoothly. They also got "green" lighted at customs, which meant no bag searches. Their room is just down the hall from Deanna and mine. 4th floor, no elevator, so exercise doing stairs is the order of the week. But, our view is even better here on the next to penthouse level, looking across Zihuatanejo Bay towards Las Gatas Beach. Claudia & Mary have a suite with big jacuzzi tub with a view & a balcony, so we'll be spending more time there, as our room's view is thru a picture window.

Wednesday we caught a small launch to Playa Las Gatas. Recently I have been in email correspondence with Scott. He lives south of Mexico City and we had hoped to visit him during this trip, but it turns out he is traveling too & won't be home to drop in on. Scott, an anthropologist, was studying the Cofan of the Ecuadorian upper Amazon basin when I was a Peace Corps volunteer in the late 60s. He was one of the 10 of us who bought Hacienda Buena Karma. When Scott learned we were coming to Zihua, he said we must drop in on Owen Lee, his buddy who lives at the far end of Las Gatas Beach. So, we did, catching Owen just after his morning shower. He graciously gave us drinks and led our snorkel around the point. At 82, he has been retired a few years from his nature study center next door to his beach house, which I will learn more about when I read his A Prisoner in Paradise--I got an autographed copy from Owen. His adventurous life includes diving for Jacques Cousteau.

The snorkel with Owen was brief and not memorable. We were coping with some waves. I hope for better snorkeling success at other places. While we immediately got on a boat on our return to the wharf, the skipper decided he wanted more passengers before embarking, so he idled around the dock, with engine fumes waffing up. Mary was struggling to breathe. After cordial requests to leave were ignored, Mary approached the skipper, demanding he return our boarding pass and let us off, whereupon he did depart--despacito--He crossed the bay at about half the speed of the other boats, perhaps in an effort to get back at us, but we enjoyed the view and lack of waves.

A dip in the pool here at Villa Vera Puerto Mio was most welcome. Ideal temperature, about 4' deep, a trickle of a waterfall from a viewing pool above, great view of the bay (Check out pics on Picasa, link above & to follow). We survived on drinks and appetizers at the restaurant next ot the pool, befriended by Dianna and Bill, guests from Minnesota, with a room next to ours.

Internet access continues to fail on my laptop, despite programming by staff here. They let me use their computer to check email today.

...Saturday morning. Coffee is on. Deanna awake, but didn't sleep as well as previous nights.

Catching up: Thusday Raul, in Cab 0520, took us to Petalan, about 30 km south, to the gold market in front of the church. Those travel book writers sometimes wax poetic with little basis in reality. I will say that the inventory in the numerous stalls along the street was considerable. They all had their scales and weighed pieces of jewelry before quoting prices--200 pesos for very small pieces, much more for larger ones. Deanna got a small sun that she liked. The guides describe the church as "beautiful majestic". Mary and I, after seeing so many truely majestic churches in Latin America, find it modern and plain. Mid-day mass was underway, which further dissuaded me from spending much time looking in the church.

On our way back, we detoured to Barra de Potosi, a village where a lagoon meets the ocean. We took a boat ride around part of the lagoon, with the skipper jumping out and pulling us across shallow sandbars in spots, which created a bit of drama--would we stout gringos need to get out and help, or walk to shore? He managed without either. There were some picturesue shots of pelicans, cranes, other birds and old boats with fading paint jobs.

Back in Zihua, we had Raul drop us at Playa de Ropa, Restaurant Rossy, where Deanna could use the 500 peso voucher she got for going to a timeshare breakfast during her first couple of days in Ixtapa. Unlike the unpleasant outcomes of most timeshare come-ons I've attended, she said the breakfast was good and the whole thing was over in the promised 90 minutes. The salesman was shut down by Deanna's reply: "My uncle has tons of timeshares, so why should I get my own?" After guacomote and natchos, drinks and reorders of both (the guacamole was esp. good), we had used up the voucher. The gals walked the whole beach, while I napped on a beach chair. No luck finding the massuse that a friend of Mary's told her was excellent and worked on Playa de Ropa. We caught a bus in to the center of town, got off by the mercado and looked in briefly--things were closing up, as it was early evening by then. We negociated a 30 peso cab ride back up the hill to the hotel, Villa Vera Puerto Mio, where we had been informed, in writing, we were excluded from the pool area for the evening, because of an RCI event honoring the hotel staff. We hung out on Mary & Claudia's deck, checking out the party with Mary's binoculars, concluding that it was a totally boring affair. Our interest was peaked by knowing that Deanna's favorite bartender, Ceasar, had been selected for recognition.

Yesterday (Friday) the gals walked down the hill to town to shop. After multiple attempts to get on line with my laptop, I used the hotel's computer to access my email and take care of those warranting my time while vacationing. I hiked down the hill the other way to check out Contramar Beach, described by some writers as good for snorkeling. Maybe. Overlooking the cove from above, I couldn't see any coral nor much that would be of snorkeling interest. We again walked down to town for dinner, selecting Elvira's. Our waiter spoke excellent English because he's lived much of his life in the states, including the Hazeldell neighborhood of Vancouver, where Deanna lives and his uncle owns el Tapatito Restaurant and Kaizer, the small town where Mary lives! Another small world experience.

End of Dispatch I. Again, link to photo album: http://picasaweb.google.com/wrinkles45/ZihuatanejoI#

Zihua finale, Taxco & Puebla

Wednesday afternoon, April 28th, in Taxco. I've got a little time to begin to fill in the last few days, waiting for the heat of the day to subside. Even though almost 6000 feet elevation, the afternoon sun here is very strong. We plan to wander out as it cools down, hoping for some great sunset pictures, capturing the charm of this hilly, historic Pueblos Magicos town.

End of my first dispatch was Friday evening in Zihuatanejo. To view pics from our last few days in Zihua, paste the following link in to your browser. After viewing the slideshow, hit the Back arrow to return here to the blog:

http://picasaweb.google.com/wrinkles45/ZihuaII2010#

Saturday, Mary and Claudia went looking for Sylvia, a masseuse of some fame, on La Ropa Beach. Sylvia wasn't there, but they found others to give them greatly appreciated massages. After having given Raul quite a bit of taxi business, with discussion of more, I didn't feel I needed to agree on the price for their outing, including a brief stop at the supermarket. Wrong. He charged them double what I expected--killed the goose that lays golden eggs, he did. Deanna got in pool time, working on perfecting the tan. I spent time Saturday getting my first blog report off and updating my online Picasa picture album. The 4 of us returned to Letty's for dinner, a small restaruant at the bottom of the path leading to town, where Letty remembered us and thanked us for returning. Good food, simple, open-air place overlooking the bay.

Sunday we snorkeled on Ixtapa Island. The best snorkeling for me in a couple of years--lots of colorful fish, a coral reef with a multitude of colors. Claudia got a deep muscle massage while Deanna and Mary went out for a second look. We got a delightful meal served on the beach, fresh snapper hot off the grill. Mary failed to excuse herself, bolting for the bay's salt water when a bee stung her finger--swelling and pain still haven't gone away.

Monday we returned to Las Gatas Beach, this time snorkeling out beyond the reef (Owen took us along the north shore). Much better--shallow coral, easy going, until we found ourselves in some unexpected waves, that we crested okay, masks and fins doing their job. Back on the beach, we replicated our beach lunch of Saturday, with another fresh fish off the grill.

Returning from all outings, especially from the beach, the pool at Puerto Mio was most welcoming, the sun going over the horizon. The still hot curved tile edges of the pool make for soothing neck rests. Drinks brought to poolside added to our relaxation.

We met Matt, retired Californian, at the bar Monday evening. He took us to view his penthouse condo nearby and promised to rent it to us at a big discount. We rode with him to il Mare, one of his favorite restaurants, for a fitting last meal in Zihua. Matt was impressed with all we did during our week. He willingly agreed to take Deanna to the airport on Tuesday afternoon.

Claudia, Mary and I bid farewell to Deanna early Tuesday morning, catching the 8:00 first-class bus to Acapulco. I catnapped some, caught glimpses of the Pacific from time to time. On arrival in Acapulco, we learned buses for Taxco left from another bus station. We managed to fit all our luggage and the 3 of us in to one cab. At the new bus station, the first bus to Taxco would be a 3-hour wait, but there was a 1st class bus leaving for Iguala in half an hour, with promise of frequent buses from there on to Taxco, so we opted to keep moving. Even though we did a lot of climbing, it was sweltering on arrival in Iguala. To my dismay, I saw a 1st class bus pulling out of the bus depot with "Zihuatanejo" written on the front window. On subequently consulting Claudia's AAA map of Mexico, it looks like there is a much shorter route, through the mountains from Zihua to Iguala, rather that down the coast to Acapulco, then triangulating back northwards, esp. with the hassle of getting from one bus station to another in Acapulco. Oh well, next time I'll know. BTW, are you aware of the benefits of enhanced AAA membership? Claudia says AAA would have sent her a whole book on Mexico FREE--perks of her membership. I must check that out.

Sure enough, when we got to Iguala, a bus was leaving in "5 minutos" for Taxco, which turned out to be more like 20 minutes. They put our luggage inside the 2nd class bus, in the back. No underneath compartment, like the 1st class buses. I grabbed a seat with more leg room toward the middle, leaving Mary and Claudia in the back to keep an eye on the luggage--bad place to ride--the back of a 2nd class bus. Mary's neck was in bad shape by the time we reached Taxco. Only VW bug cabs here, 'cause streets are so narrow regular cars can't negotiate some of them. We had to hail 2 bugs upon arrival in Taxco and went to the recommended Los Arcos Hotel, where we decided to stay put. Befitting its name, there are many arches. And a roof top with great views of the nearby church on the zocalo as well as a panorama of the hillside city--reminds me of Siena, Italy. Both mornings we were up and on the roof to greet the sun, with cameras sometimes enhancing the colors in the sky. My 10x telephoto is surprisingly stable when zooming way out.

For Taxco pics, go to:

http://picasaweb.google.com/wrinkles45/Taxco#

...4:30 a.m., Friday, April 30, Hotel Royalty, ON the zocalo, Puebla. I'm in the spacious sitting area outside our junior suite, with view of the church across the zocalo (city-center park) and plenty of fresh air from the double doors opening on to our small balcony. So glad we sprung for this room rather than the stuffy interior double and single rooms for almost as many pesos. While there is strong internet signal, I can't get online. The staff at Puerto Mio told me they re-programmed my IP address so I could get online there. I suspect they failed to tell me that they needed to unprogram it on my departure. I've had an email from Sylvia, a Raintree employee in Oaxaca, promising to be there for us on our arrival. I'm hoping she can call Puerto Mio and ask about getting the laptop IP address reversed. If not, I should be able to find a techy in Oaxaca.

We were eager silver shoppers in Taxco, me included. Shops everywhere--surrounding the zocalo, up and down stairs and alleyways. Most of the storefronts stuck by the "precios fijos"--the price tags on the jewelry items--but we were able to haggle price with some, esp. if buying several pieces. Some shops gave us 12 pesos exchange on our US bills, an improvement over the 11 pesos to the dollar that casas de cambio give. We have yet to find a bank that exchanges dollars.

Late Wednesday afternoon, we hired Jesus. We were surprised to find all 3 of us did fit in the back seat of his VW bug taxi. Front passanger seat missing, the case with all Taxco cabs. He took us up to the Christ statue, high on the mountain above the city, stopping at a church on the way. At one point it looked like we were too heavy for the steep, cobblestone street. I'm surprised I didn't smell his clutch burning. We bottomed on a few topes (speed bumps--they are ALL over Mexido). Mary asked him to slow down a few times, as it was a harrowing journey, up the winding streets, then down again at nightfall.

Mary's sleep was fitful Wednesday night, in part because she didn't buy some jewelry she had looked at, esp. the dragonfly pin in a fancy shop. I caught a cab down to the bus station, learned that buses leave for Cuernavaca every hour. We agreed to wait fro shops to open. The one with the dragonfly didn't open until 11, so we did more shopping and enjoying vistas of Taxco, 'til Mary got her dragonfly. While our first taxis took us to the wrong bus station (next bus leaving for Cuernavaca in about 3 hours), unlike the big cities, it was only a few minutes back to the right bus station and we make the noon bus.

I wasn't vigelent on arrival at the Cuernavaca bus station. Our bags were already loaded in to the cab, ourselves as well, when the cabbie informed me it was a long way to the other bus depot and the fare was $20 US. I said "No way", We may be travelers, but we're not paying airport prices here. He said 150 pesos was as low as he could go, so I agreed. It was a fairly long trip through the City of Eternal Spring (there were some pretty parks, flowering trees). Layover of about 30 minutes was just right. The 3-hour bus ride to Puebla was uneventful.

We caught a cab in to the center of the historic district in Puebla, to the Royalty Hotel, as mentioned above. Last night we walked around the zocalo and a few surrounding streets. Lots of action for a Thursday night. Great temperture, nice breeze. Mid-day sun is at it's hotest this time of year in this part of Mexico. Have you ever wondered why our summers (and winters) are delayed? Longest days of the year are late June, but it's a month or more before we get our hotest days. Here, when the sun is approaching being the most direct, the heat comes with the sun.

We visited the cathedral after breakfast this morning. Impressive. We observed the no flash request, had to be reminded that all pics were prohibited when we got close to a mass in process. We then went looking for antique row, discovered that shops open late morning, but got to look around one crammed full of things. We found the artisan market, bought a few pieces of Puebla Talavera. We also found ceramic trees of life, made in Izucar de Matamoros. I had found a couple of articles about this in researching our trip. Izucar is on the direct road from Cuernavaca to Oaxaca, but aside from the artisan shops, the town is reportedly bleak. And, if we stopped there, would we be able to catch transportation on to Oaxaca? Probably, but on slow, second class buses on secondary "highways". After further consultation, coming the extra distance to Puebla, then on to Oaxaca on 1st class buses seemed the prudent course.

We managed to visit one more church, elaborate with gold, and arrive at the bus station an our before the 12:50 bus for Oaxaca. But, it was already sold out. So, we are sitting on a shaded patio, drinking frappachinos, calling home, blog-writing, reading, etc. I was able to reach Casa San Felipe and tell them we will be getting in more like 8 pm tonight.

Puebla pics: http://picasaweb.google.com/wrinkles45/Puebla2010#

Oaxaca, the early days

We arrived in Oaxaca, by bus from Puebla about dusk on Friday, April 30th. 'Caught a taxi to Casa San Felipe, where we were expected. The villa where we are staying is about 12 blocks from Casa San Felipe. The taxi "in 5 minutes" was about half an hour late. Several streets in the historic center of Oaxaca are torn up--being turned to cobblestone. It will be nice when completed, but in the meantime, it makes for traffic jams. And there's all the loud horns--that do absolutely no good. Next time it's our cabbie laying on the horn, I should tell him it'll cost him his tip if he does it again.

While lacking the grace of historic Casa San Felipe, the villa here is comfortable and spacious. The main floor has living room, dining room, complete kitchen and bath. Upstairs, besides the 2 bedrooms, there is another room with futon and a 3rd television, plus another bath. The 2 bedrooms have AC. Modern and bright. Friday night, after eating at a fine Italian restaurant across the street & unpacking as little as possible, we took showers and hit the sack.

Saturday morning, Mary and I set out in search of the organic market, that's open only on Fridays and Saturdays. Our villa, located on the corner of Margarita Maza & Diaz Quintas, is 4 blocks north of the botanical garden/Santo Domingo. Not far from the previous location of the organic market. But, when we found the old location, no market. We began asking passers by--did they know if the market has moved? Several said yes, and directed us northwards. I was beginning to lose hope when we found it, now located by Iglesia Xochimilco, a block north of the thoroughfare, Ninos Heroes de Chapultepec. Not quite as big as Mary remembered it from years past, but still a delightful gathering of people who support healthy eating. While not as close to our villa as the forner site, it's not bad--about 7 blocks. We went back and got Claudia and the 3 of us returned, for more food (& jewelry) purchases & delightful lunch and fruit drinks.

On the way there, I had a close call. Hugging the wall, to catch as much shade from the brutal sun as possible, my shoulder scraped a cement bay window abutment. It drew a little blood, but was only a small scrape. A few inches to the right I would have drove my shoulder in to the unrelenting cement structure. On the beach, we had several minor injuries. I mentioned Mary's bee or wasp sting. Mary and Claudia got bruised a bit getting in or out of launches. Deanna tumbled down the stairs and pinched her finger adjusting the back of a lounge chair. Claudia tripped in a hole in the sidewalk and went down face forward, bashing her cheek on the cement. After others had enjoyed relaxing in a hammock, I got in. A few minutes later the knot holding one end unraveled and I hit the sand, butt first. It sounded worse than it felt. On arriving home last night, we found that Claudia's itching eye was very bloodshot, apparently from a bug irritation. For all our mishaps, we feel fortunate that none have been serious.

Speaking of trying to hide from the sun, I have been telling people for years that Oaxaca, about a mile high, has a fresh, cool climate, unlike the hot coast. My previous 3 visits have all been in November. Late spring, for reasons I don't yet understand, is the hottest time of the year in southern Mexico. It was 95 degrees here this afternoon!! See my report below, for our trip today to the high Sierra Norte, expecting to escape the heat. Fortunately, it does cool down to about 60 at night, so the morning is cool, until that burning sun rises in the cloudless sky.

Sunday was a shopping day for the gals. I struggled with getting a blog update completed and trying to sort out my group emailing list. It seems that my laptop is now refusing to send bcc's & cc's. I'm also thinking that some other emails aren't reaching their destinations, as I haven't gotten expected replies. But, some email correspondence is getting through. I'll have to inform people on my travel group list when I get home, unless I can straighten out sending in our few remaining days.

Monday morning, Claudia decided to rest up. Mary and I grabbed 2 buses to the collectivo taxi stand to Iztlan de Juarez, up in the Sierra Norte mountains. I figured that would be a way to beat the heat and visit a pueblo magico, nearby Calpulalpam. The collectivo taxis cram 2 people in front, besides the driver, and 3 or 4 in the back seat. We had the "luxury" of only 1 person besides Mary and me in the back seat, but it was tight. My knees were more than ready to change positions, after the hour + ride. To our dismay, it was as hot in Ixtlan as down in Oaxaca. The weather report on line confirmed that both places reached 95 degrees on Monday. It is a dry heat, but still, the sun is amazingly intense. After inquiring at the ecotourism office about what they had to offer and finding them rather disorganized and vague, we caught another collectivo taxi to Calpulalpam, mercifully only about a 10-minute ride. There we found the church closed. We could here a band playing--off key. We agreed to not walk up the hill to take in the concert. Our trip to Sierra Norte was not a highlight of the trip.

We got back to our air conditioned villa in time for an afternoon siesta. Last November I punted on a birthday gift for Mary--I sent her a card, good for a meal at Hosteria de Alcalde, here in Oaxaca. We went there for Monday night dinner. Pretty setting, courtyard of a colonial mansion. I concur with Mary--it was the best meal of our trip. Pleasant young waiter. He brought us small pitchers of 4 different moles to sample, to help us decide on our main dishes. We walked down to the lively zocalo after dinner, took night pictures there & of Santo Domingo church on our walk back to the villa. See http://picasaweb.google.com/wrinkles45/Oaxaca20101stDays#

Tuesday morning we caught a cab up to Monte Alban, the Zapotec mountaintop city, one of Mexico's most impressive pre-Colombian sites. The day was cooler than Sunday, with some cloud cover, so the heat was quite bearable. The crickets were almost deafening We climbed the highest pyramid. Unfortunately, my camera battery went dead. I'm glad it was in the last part of our self-guided tour. See http://picasaweb.google.com/wrinkles45/MonteAlban#

Back in the hot city, the bus dropped us a few blocks from Tatu's, an inexpensive, pleasant luncheonette near the central market, a place recommended by my former co-worker, Julie. We had a great 4-course lunch with agua fresca (fruit punch) for less than $4 each. We made our first market visit brief, grabbing a taxi back to the villa for afternoon siesta.

So relieved to have the AC in the afternoons, we began thinking about how we'll manage in the heat of the day this coming weekend, when we have plans to stay 2 nights in the rug town, Teotitlan, which, as we recall from previous visits, has few trees. Mary and I went so far as to check out a few hotels near by. I again ran in to a protruding cement bay window, this time catching my ribs & leaving a nasty rash. Now, walking down the street, Mary and Claudia alert me about potential collisions. I was able to call Lori, a Floridian who lives most of the year at Las Granadas B&B in Teotitlan. She was reassuring. While no AC, they have fans and breezes. So, we're going to stick with our plans.

We ate in Tuesday night. Mary made delicious tostados, mostly from organic market buys.

Mary was fighting turista and Claudia decided to pass on going to Etla Wednesday morning After visiting over breakfast, I decided to skip the weekly Etla market myself. Late morning we walked back to the central market. Purchases included baskets, bags, bark drawings, chocolate & mole. 'Had delicious chocolate "snakes" (typos on menus are common, even in upscale places in Mexico) at the House of Chocolate. See mid-week Oaxaca pics at http://picasaweb.google.com/wrinkles45/OaxacaMidWeek#

Thursday morning we caught a taxi to the weekly market at Zaachila, a half hour ride southwest of the city. 'Most aggressive cab driver we've had so far. 'Not what Mary and her unsettled tummy needed. But, once in the market, we were tranquilo--lots of photo opportunities and some good shopping--purses, blouses, etc. See http://picasaweb.google.com/wrinkles45/ZaachilaMarket#

On return to the villa, I worked on Picasa albums and rental business via email and phone. Mary and Claudia ventured back out in the mid-day heat, walking to the women's coop. This evening we are packing. In the morning we check out of the villa, leave big bags at Casa San Felipe and head to Teotitlan del Valle for a couple of nights. We will have a final night at Casa San Felipe on Sunday, flying home Monday.

... Friday afternoon. Almost 6 pm but the sun hasn't set yet. I've been resting/napping the last 3 hours, with a fan blowing on me. Quite comfortable, here in the downstairs regular room (100 peSos/night--about $9). Mary and Claudia are sharing the 150 peso deluxe room upstairs, with its own bathroom. I have to walk across the courtyard to the bathroom.

And I will be needing the bathroom. During the night I suddenly had a major case of turista. The culprit was likely the meat in my vegetable soup at the Zaachila market yesterday. When I don't even want a bite of Mary's special eggs at breakfast, you know I'm not myself. I've started my Cipro (strong antibiotic) and decided it may help to take those pain pills, that are effective in constipating me than deadening pain. I know, TMI.

Our cab ride out to Teotitlan was pleasant. Gloria was our cabbie--one of 5 women taxi drivers in all of Oaxaca. We chatted about lots of things, including the US's apparent pleasure in waring around the world and why hasn't Obama been a peace president? I had printed a map before leaving home--I thought to the Granada B&B. But, it was to a rug place instead. Fortunately, Gloria stayed to see if we were at the right address and take us to the correct one.

Last, wrapping up dispatch to be added after we are home, sweet home.

Mexico 2010 finale--Oaxaca, Teotitlan, Tlacolula

Teotitlan del Valle, Saturday morning, May 8, 2010

Last morning at Las Granadas B&B, 2 de abril #9, tel. 951 524 42 32.  While rooms were hot in the afternoon and evening, fans helped.  The bed was firm but comfortable.  Breakfast will be coming soon, then a local cabbie, weaver Juana's son, Manuel, will pick us up, take us to the Sunday market in Tlacolula, come back for us at an agreed time, bring us back to Las Granadas to load up our equipaje, which has grown considerably with our rug, purse and woven cotton buys yesterday. We sat on the cool rooftop last night, drinking Havana Club with Lori from Florida and Rick from Chicago.  Both now spend a good part of the year here in Teotitlan.

Teotitlan pics: http://picasaweb.google.com/wrinkles45/Teotitlan2010#

Tlacolula Sunday market was as colorful as I remembered it.  Most of the brightly dressed indigenous women didn't like their pictures taken.  The telephoto helped.  The digital era is such an advance over 35 mm--the blurry and uncentered shots can be deleted, saving the worthy pics.  It was a great game plan--for Manuel to take us to the market, back to get our stuff and deliver us to Villa Vera in Oaxaca.  One last trip to the market, primarily for Mary to buy an extra bag.  I also got another kilo of coffee (85 pesos).  We went to Casa Oaxaca for dinner.  'Known for cooking classes.  We sat on the upper patio, next to Santo Domingo Church.  Beautiful sunset.  Beautiful food.  A great choice for our last meal of the trip. 

Tlacolula Sunday market pics: http://picasaweb.google.com/wrinkles45/Tlacolula2010#

Last day in Oaxaca pics: http://picasaweb.google.com/wrinkles45/Mexico2010FinaleOaxaca#

At 5 a.m., no suburban taxi, so we took 2 cabs to the airport in Oaxaca.  On arrival, I could not find my tourist visa.  While Mary and Claudia got boarding passes to LA, due to my missing visa, I was only giving a boarding pass to Mexico City.  Fortunately we had a 3 hour layover in Mexico City, because my remedy wasn't simple or quick.  After a couple of misdirections, I was sent to Customs, where I saw a big sign that said replacement of a missing tourist card, per Mexican law, was $42.  Fortunately I bypassed the long line of arriving international travelers and found my way to the immigration office, where the line wasn't long but didn't move fast.  At the front of the line, I was told I had to go out of the airport, to the police station, to report my lost tourist card.  I was beginning to panic, with the thought of spending half a day, Mary & Claudia facing boarding time and me no where in sight.  The police station didn't take long, but no reading glasses compounded the assignment of filling out the report with a font about size 8.  Back at Immigration, I got my replacement tourist card.  And, no $42 charge!  A blessing. Then to Mexicana, to get the boarding pass for LA, and back to waiting Maria and Claudia, with half an hour to spare, time to cool off before the long walk to Gate 33.

Big Retirement Trip--Northern Italy, Post 1

Early morning, 20th October, 2009

Nighttime over the Atlantic.
We are due to land in Milan about 7 am. We departed from JFK as the sun was setting on Long Island. I was on the wrong side of the plane to catch sight of NY City. My full-size laptop doesn't fit well in this Boeing 767 coach seating. Fortunately, I have a vacant seat next to me--Lucy has an exit row seat not far away. Last I checked, she looked asleep. The flight from Seattle was about full. I hope Lucy is getting some good rest now, as she was becoming trip-weary by the time we reached NY. She didn’t sleep last night. Too much anticipation. It's been awhile since both of us have been away from home for any length of time together. We'll miss 2-year old Juliet on the weekends. Hopefully we've left Raechelle all pertinent instructions and the animals will adapt to so much time alone.
We asked about upgrading to first class in NY, but were told that we couldn't, at least at the gate, with our frequent flyer tickets. Only 40,000 each--round trip, Seattle to Milan!--low season just kicked in October 15. But, temperature in Milan is 34 degrees F. And, we're headed up to the base of the Alps for our first 2 nights. I've been thinking I was smart--to come in the fall, avoiding the oppressive heat and crowds of summer, but September may be more ideal for Northern Italy. We shall find out...
The program we bought to install in the Garmin, for N Italy did not download successfully. I'm inclined to not pay for a GPS with the rental car. From a Michelin online site, I have printed out "sightseeing" routes, which likely differ with GPS faster routes along toll roads. I'm hoping the pace will be about right--most travel days between one and four hours of road time, most stops for two nights. It will still be a matter of prioritizing what to see & how long to stay.
The gauntlet I subjected Lucy to at the start of our Australia trip is detailed in the 2005 blog entry. That may have been matched by the start of our Mexico-Guatemala trip with 7-year old Dustin in 1980. Lucy visited a friend in LA and got little sleep before we flew off to Mexico. Dustin and I took in Disneyland, The stopover in Mexico City Airport extended to something like 8 hours, before we continued on to Tapachula, a very hot, humid city near the Guatemalan border. I sprung for a cab, and we headed for the one AC hotel in town, only to learn the AC quit working in 1978! Despite our exhaustion, we didn't get much sleep that sticky night, with a slow, dirty ceiling fan barely creating a breeze. Lucy must have figured she was in for 3 weeks of hell with the Peace Corps volunteer turned family guide. The next day, speaking of Peace Corps, we hitched a ride with volunteers, up in to the refreshing mountains of Western Guatemala, where I had reservations at Pension Bonifaz.

Jetlag in Cannobio
It's 3:30 a.m. in the Hotel Pironi's sitting room. To reach a power source (using our adaptor for electricity in Europe), I have taken over a corner of a table covered by brochures of things to do in this northern corner of Italy, 5 km from the Swiss border. While reception gave me a code for internet access, it's not working. I'll ask for help a little later in the morning.
We arrived at Milan's Malpensa airport early yesterday morning. 'Still dark at 7 a.m. 'Nothing to customs. A bit of a walk to our rental car, reserved via Economy Car Rentals (good rate, I think, but truth will be in the final credit card billing). As noted above, we didn't get the Garmin to program for Italy so we didn't bring it. They didn't have a GPS available at the car rental, which suited me, I thought, at the time. But, after the maze getting out of the airport parking, the directions I got from the rental car guy didn't make sense, nor did the Michelin map and directions I had printed before leaving home. I should have pulled over sooner, but we were going through rural countryside, with no gas stations or stores to be seen. Signs on the freeway kept saying "Novara", which fit with the way I thought we should be going--west--but the sun was rising ahead of us. After maybe half an hour, I got off the freeway and made our way in to a hamlet, where I found a gas station. 2nd attempt (1st being the car rental guy) at getting directions from an Italian with little to no English and my efforts at adapting Spanish to Italian marginally successful. But, within blocks of following her directions, I was confused and pulled in to talk to another Italian service station attendant. We got back on the same freeway, going the other way, went past the airport but failed to find the exit we were looking for on the Michelin directions. Eventually, I could tell we were going north, but east of where we wanted to be. 'Drove in to a town, stopped at a cash machine for Euros and went in to a store, where a couple of people agreed on the directions they gave me. But, within a few kms & a roundabout that first mentioned a town the direction that we wanted to go, only to fail to show where to exit the roundabout for that town, we were back to the same toll booth where I decided I needed help, still going northeast! This time 5th--all queried Italians were pleasant and wanted to help me) we went to a manned tollbooth and got directions that worked. The last hour was along the western shores of Lake Maggiore, going through picturesque towns, lots to narrow, curvy stretches along the lakeshore. Unfortunately, it was a gray, overcast day. I can imagine that drive on a sunny day with blue sky. Villas perched on the steep, foliaged hillsides. Big, classy old brick buildings, some with zero clearance from the roadway.
Once in Cannobio, a policeman directed us down a narrow cobbled street to the Hotel Pironi, where we unloaded our bags and I was successful in following the map to the hotel parking, the gate appearing just as I was beginning to think I'd again misunderstood directions. It wasn't yet 3 pm, about 8 hours after our departure from the airport. Estimated time, per Michelin? 1:49 (Read: one hour, forty nine minutes!). Lucy, despite her exhaustion from lack of sleep, was very patient with me. I can only imagine her attitude if the car rental place had a GPS system I declined, due to my initial faith in my printed sightseeing routes from Michelin.
Our room here at the Pironi is large and pleasant. Big, comfortable bed. Friendly desk staff, speak English fluently. After a nap for a couple of hours, we walked--along the waterfront. Very photogenic, in spite of the gray afternoon. Lucy's walking pace exceeds mine normally. Now, most of a month after arthroscopic surgery on my L knee, and following plane flights of 5 and then 7.5 hours, I was lagging behind worse than normal. The thought of even short hikes in the Alps, which begin at the end of town here, appeal less to me, esp. given that going up and down is particularly uncomfortable. We might drive up in to them today, if we don't decide to go visit the lake islands. The forecast is not promising better weather.
'Seems like more often than not I forget something. This trip it's the connection for the camera to the computer. I could buy one here, but I can insert photo albums in to the blog after getting back home. 'Sorry for the delay. I'll let you know as soon as the pics are added.

2nd day in Cannobio--Rebound
It's about 5 a.m. Thursday, 10/22. Back in Hotel Pironi's sitting room. I was here last night, catching up on email on their computer, after continuing to strike out on getting wireless connection for this laptop.

http://picasaweb.google.com/wrinkles45/LakeMaggioreHillTowns#

After some good sleep, we had a breakfast banquet yesterday morning--here at our B&B Hotel Pironi. Gray skies were now sprinkling. We decided on a 10-minute drive to lakeside Carmine, parked and hiked up to Carmine Superiore. On the trail signs it said 0:15, but took me more like half an hour each way. The old church, with the small community tightly build behind it, constructed in the 14th century, is perched above a sheer rock wall of a couple hundred feet. The location was chosen for it's defensive location (like Machu Picchu), when powerful locals worried about even more powerful enemies. Some places requiring serious hiking to get to them (Okay, what's 15 minutes--significant, if it's that steep and you must carry everything in with you!), but otherwise have easy road access. For example, Mt. Washington in N. Hampshire. Carmine Superiore has no road alternative. Yet, people live there. Even on a gray, rainy day, there's another great shot at every turn for a photographer. Pics to follow (Lucy's camera cord has the same connection as mine, so it I can get wireless at a coming destination, I can hopefully insert links to albums!).
Driving back to town, we turned up the Cannobio Valley. We saw a bridge, high over the river and took it. We thought we had been on curvy, narrow roads already, but this one redefines snaking hairpins. We honked at some blind spots, but trusted these fast Italian drivers have good brakes and allow for pokey tourists. After maybe 5 minutes we came to the town of Gurrone. We meandered through cobbled passageways, saw more signs with travel times to various destinations via paths in this mountainous region. 1:15; 2:40; 4:05. Ah, to still be young, with good knees! We visited the cemetery (Inadvertent link to my mortality when I first wrote this!).
Descending from Gurrone, we decided not to continue up the valley, which eventually enters Switzerland. Returning toward town, we stopped at an old church overlooking a river chasm then drove east of town a couple of km, turning up yet another narrow switchback, to the hamlet of Santa Agata. And a church to visit, along with the commanding view of Cannobio below.

http://picasaweb.google.com/wrinkles45/CannobioLakeMaggiore#

Back in Cannobio, we had a light lunch at a bar on the waterfront. Only 7 Euros, a relief, after the 49 Euro bill the night before, at a nice enough place, but tucked away in a narrow street without view. (The value of the dollar against the Euro is at an all-time low--it takes about $1.50 US to buy one Euro now.) The light rain earlier in the day was becoming steadier. 'Happy to return for a nap at this comfortable hotel. We went back to the same bar for a small pizza and caraff of wine before closing time.

http://picasaweb.google.com/wrinkles45/Bergamo#

Another meandering day on the road
Thursday evening, Bergamo Alta. After another delicious breakfast at Hotel Pironi, this morning I calmly paid the 300 Euro bill for the 2 nights, reminding myself that we didn't spend 100 Euros on breakfasts and bigger lunches the last two days, given we took advantage of the Pironi spread both mornings.
Weather continued overcast most of the morning, raining lightly at times. Guards at the Swiss border saw me holding my passport and merely waived us to keep going. It appears there is little concern about border security within the European Union. We rounded the northern edge of Lake Maggiorne and headed down the eastern shore. I didn't realize for some time that we had failed to follow the Michelin directions. We adjusted course and again had to back track and ask questions about how to get to the next town. We skirted pretty Lake Lugano. Finally we reached Como, at the southernmost point of Lake Como. The sun came out as we had a light lunch in a bar on the waterfront, at about 3 pm. I had read that Bellagio was a pretty town, about an hour along the shores of Lake Como, and had originally planned lunch there. Since we were about 3-4 hours behind schedule, it was a no-brainer to pass on the detour to Bellagio. And, while on the map it wasn't the most direct route to Bergamo, I decided to take the toll autostradas, having had enough of "sightseeing" routes for today. Entering Bergamo, we managed to find our way to the ancient upper town without difficulty and were within a block of our hotel, Agnello d'Oro ("Golden Lamb"), when we stopped to ask its location.
No internet or wifi in the hotel. The desk clerk told me the Irish Pub has wifi and gave me directions. 'Sounded close by. After a few blocks and no Irish Pub, I asked a police officer. He motioned it was further on ahead. But, a couple of blocks further and still no pub, I asked a storekeeper. He told me I'd come too far and said it was 2 minutes back the way I'd just come. After about 5 minutes of retracing my steps, I finally found the Irish Pub. I was expecting English to be spoken there. All the Guinness and other sayings on the walls were in English, but the bartender didn't speak much. She did understand my inquiry about internet/wifi and said they don't have it, but it’s available in the nearby plaza. After a Guinness and a sandwich to take back to Lucy, I found a cafe/bar on the plaza that said they do have wifi and are open from 8 am to 8 pm.
While I acknowledge that my lack of Italian is an issue, I have found throughout my travels--it's human nature for people to offer directions when asked, even if they don't know the right answer--they'll make a guess (so often wrong!) rather than disappoint me by saying they don't know.

On the road to Venice
Early Saturday morning. Travel day coming--rest for legs (and hopefully less misdirection on the road!). We did most of the Alta Bergamo tour suggested in Walking in Italy, a book I brought along. 'Starting with the clock tower and views of the city, then the cathedral, on to the house & museum of Donizettiano, one of Lucy's favorite opera composers. We took the funicular (cable car) up to Castle San Vigilio. More views. 'Had a tasty lunch at a nice restaurant overlooking a beautiful farming valley. Skies were beginning to clear. In the distance we could see a large snowcapped mountain in the Alps. Stops at a couple of museums in the city, the second being the Rocca a fortress perched above the massive stone city walls. We then descended several blocks, in search of Lotto's 16th century frescos at San Michael al Pozzo Bianco. We went past it, further down the hill, before realizing it must to behind us. Hiking back up the hill, we found it closed! I was proud of my trek back up to the Citta Alta (high city) without a breather. It was nice that our hotel was only another block from the crest. Time for a well-deserved shower and nap. Still not hungry after the big lunch, on our evening walk to stretch sore legs, we selected a couple of pieces of pizza to bring back for late evening snacks.
Given our record of far-exceeding projected travel times, I suggested to Lucy we might want to pick one stop from 3 places of interest on our way to Venice--Lago di Garda, Verona and Padua. She declared we must stop in Verona--to get a keepsake for Juliet (our 2-year old granddaughter--who must be missing us, as we are her!), given that it was Shakespeare's setting for Romeo & Juliet.

We got to Venice
Mid-morning yesterday (Saturday) I wasn't sure where we'd end up. After breakfast at the hotel, we packed the Citroen and stopped to fuel up. There were 3 choices and to levels of labeling. Up above it said "Diesel" on both the right and the left, but at the handle, the left side said "Gasolina". I thought about asking for help, but decided the left side must be regular and the middle high octane. I proceeded to fill up. Then began the quest for the autostrada. As we entered a limited access road, I saw we were on our way back to Como and began looking for an opportunity to turn around, when the car began to seriously sputter. Fortunately, I was able to get on to a side street and park before it died. I immediately concluded I must have filled the tank with diesel. My first impulse was to go walking, in search of a garage. Lucy had the forethought to pull out the rental car assistance info. Thankfully, we have the global phone, although it took 3 calls before an operator took down our location and promised help was on the way--in "20" minutes. Most of an hour later, a small flatbed arrived. The driver told me he thought it was probably failed fuel pump, and I want to believe he's right (When we get fuel next, I'll for sure ask and then know). We caught a cab to the Bergamo airport, where Budget gave us another Citroen and we were back on the road--the toll autostrada, where suggested speeds are 110 km in the left, fast lane. I cruised at about 130 to 140 kph (80 - 85 mph), moving to the center lane as frequent cars doing upwards of 160 (100 mph) came zooming by.
It was early afternoon and at autostrada speed, we decided we had time to stop at Verona. With help from only 1 local, we found the old center of the city. After searching for a parking lot with an open space, we lucked out and found a curbside spot a block from the famous statue of Julieta. Holding her right breast is suppose to bring good fortune. At the shot next door, Lucy had an apron embroidered for Kathryn and a backpack for Juliet.

http://picasaweb.google.com/wrinkles45/Verona#

We made it back to the autostrada, headed towards Venezia (Venice). I had an email from Valentina, here at the Dormus Orsoni, giving us parking options, including parking on the mainland and catching a 10-minute train ride in to Venice. Given our late afternoon arrival, I decided to save time by driving as far as possible and paying the higher nightly rate at the edge of the city. BUT, we got in a line to park that was unbelievably slow. When we finally did park, there were lots of empty spaces, so I don't know what the delay was about. In any case, the vaporetto (water bus) was only a block away. It was dark (about 7 pm), but we managed to get on the right vaporetto and off at the right stop (Giglio), from which it was about a 5 minute walk on the cobbled walkway along the canal and then in to a narrow passageway to Domus Orsoni, where we were still expected.

http://picasaweb.google.com/wrinkles45/Venice#

Venice in a day
I wish I'd planned for more time, but we saw a lot of Venice yesterday. It's Monday morning. It will soon be breakfast time here at Domus Orsoni. 'Turns out it's affiliated with a mosaic school. Most of the other guests in this small domus (home) are here to attend the class starting today. After a pleasant chat with a couple from Alberta (she's a student in the mosaic class), we hopped a vaporetto along the Grand Canal, about a 10 minute walk from Domus Orsoni, which is located in Cannaregio--a northern island in Venice, the Jewish ghetto--so named in the 16th century, when Jews were required to live in this area and were locked in at night.
On the Grand Canal vaporetto ride yesterday morning, the sun was shining. It was crowded, as most are. I managed to get a spot standing at the bow and snapped shot after shot as we wended our way through lots of other canal traffic, including gondolas paddled by colorful skippers and water taxis. We got off at St. Mark's Plaza. Lots of walkers, NO motorized traffic other than in the water. Many canals, with quaint bridges. While Lucy entered beckoning shops, I sat on some of the bridges, taking pics of the canals, with colorful buildings crowding in, the gondola oarsmen ducking while gliding under other low bridges nearby. We didn't think twice about skipping the long line waiting to get in to St. Mark's basilica. We meandered though the San Marco neighborhood for a couple of hours, including a tasty lunch (I had spaghetti with fresh fish, Lucy had a salad with lots in it). We hiked over the dangerous-looking Academy Bridge--a simple wooden structure meant to be temporary about 75 years ago. Still in use, though some of the wooden supports are seriously decaying (see pic). The line to get in to the Academy Gallery wasn't long. But, my legs were protesting. And, out front of the gallery was a handsome young Brit selling tickets to the opera in the evening. Lucy bought (Since my teen years, I have a predictable experience at high-brow concerts--I fall asleep). We proceeded to catch the vaporetto, came back to Domus Orsoni for a shower and nap and check of email on their computer ('still no luck getting a wifi signal strong enough, so I'm expecting to wait 'til I get home to "publish").
We took another vaporetto to the Rialto stop for Lucy's opera (a selection of familiar pieces, only lasting a couple of hours). I roamed the northern sector of San Marco, getting off track at one point (everyone talks about getting lost in Venice as to be expected and welcomed as part of being here). A sandwich and a glass of red wine at a small place, opposite a lovely chapel--not a lot of lighting on churches at night, so most of the night pics won't be very bright or sharp. The weather has been perfect here in Venice, Sunny, cool, but not cold.

On to Bologna
Wee hours of the morning, Tuesday. There’s wifi here at Albergo Garisenda in the heart of the old city of Bologna! I’ve managed to link to my home computer (Logmein) and move my notes from the road from my laptop to home . ‘Still no way to load pics from the camera.
Leaving Venice yesterday morning I did it again! ‘Time to refuel our 2nd rental car, after the first died, following refueling. The 3 choices of fuel at the pump yesterday were different than in Bergamo. I had told myself I was going to get help the next time, before choosing a fuel. But, again I went for what I read as “gasoline” and a few km down the road we were dead on the shoulder! During the hour + wait for Budget to bring us a 3rd car, Lucy found a brief discussion of fuels in our Lonely Planet guide—“gasolio” IS diesel!! I try not to dwell on what the financial consequences will be. We got standard, not extra insurance. I did an internet search on the consequences of putting diesel in a gas-powered car. ;No mention of destroying the catalytic converter. Basically, the diesel just needs to get flushed out of the engine and tank. I bet they’ve done it before. I can’t be the first stupid American tourist!

We did our usual ask, go a ways, find someone else to ask, in making our way to this albergo (city inn) a block from the central plaza here in Bologna. We explored the massive church and took pics of the statue of Hercules. Having missed lunch, we were ready for dinner before the rest of the country was—dinner in Italy begins after 7 pm. We found a bar serving bread and a good selection of cold cuts (boloney—this is where it got its start!). With a good glass of wine, it made a meal.

http://picasaweb.google.com/wrinkles45/Bologna#

Italy 09, Post 2

Italy blog, October 2009, Part II

Wed am, Oct. 28, Casa Rabatti--Marcella's Place, Ferenzia (Florence)
We left Bologna yesterday morning with relatively little misdirection. The autostrada made its way through hilly country. Lots of tunnels. Lots of trucks. The fall countryside, leaves yellow, had a haze that looked like smog. But, the sky here in Florence is clear.

http://picasaweb.google.com/wrinkles45/Florence#

For all my planning, I noticed I only had an email from the place we are staying here. No address. No phone #. We crossed the River Arno, on the edge of the old city. I found a parking spot and went in to a place that advertised international calling. I got Casa Rabatti phone # from a nice young man there. The global phone came through. When Marcella, with her limited English, heard we are driving, she replied: "Very bad". Recently they further restricted vehicle traffic in the old city. We decided to put the car in a garage where we called from and caught a cab here to Casa Rabatti, Via San Zaboni #48. Unless the cabbie was going out of her way to run up the fare, driving here ourselves would have been an ordeal, as she made her way through parking lots in her circuitous route around the train station, to get us here.
My old running buddy at Spanaway Jr. High, Paul, stayed here with Jill this past summer. They learned of Casa Rabatti via Rick Steves. Rick stays here. Paul commented that Marcella is the one Italian he remembers from Italy. Indeed, she is personable, even if it's instructing us what doesn't get flushed down the toilet.
We got a start on seeing Florence yesterday afternoon--'took in the Galleria dell'Accademia, saw Michelangelo's David in all his glory. 'Made our way past the Duomo (cathedral--we'll go inside today) to the Ponte Vecchio. The setting sun reflecting on towers, domes and bridges was nice timing. After a shower and nap, we had dinner at nearby Za Za, at fashionably late 8:30 pm. Outside dining can't continue much later in the year, as it's getting cool at night. But, I'm sure glad we didn't come during the heat of summer, which is notoriously bad here.

Thursday morning, last of Florence
Marcella doesn't do breakfast--first place we've stayed that hasn't. Aside from small coffee bars, restaurants that do breakfast seem absent in Italy. We found a place, but when we asked about eggs we were informed eggs for breakfast aren't an option. Good cappuccinos are easy to find.
We spent some time in the huge cathedral, then joined the line to get in to the Uffizi Gallery, considered the most important in Italy. Once in, it wasn't too crowded. While big, the 45 rooms are laid out in a horseshoe that is easy to follow. The paintings are mostly devoted to Biblical themes. Some portraits. Lots of marble busts along the interior corridors.
Making our way back toward Casa Rabatti, we checked out churches along streets with lots of fashionable shops. A shower and nap again before the wonderful evening meal at La Burrasca, a small trattoria in the neighborhood. We started, as usually, with olive oil and vinegar to spice up the loaf of french bread. And a carafe of red wine. We each ordered a meat dish, along with sides of tomatoes and lima beans. Great seasonings.
No wifi or internet access with Marcella. But, there is an internet place a block away, open 'til midnight. I stopped in to check email, learn that one of our bank accounts is overdrawn, answer more questions for a bidder on a united way fundraiser I'm donating timeshare accommodation to. A few replies about my first blog entry about the trip.
Time to pack and find our way southward to the hill town of Siena.

What a view, but what a bed
We made our way out of Florence without detour. 'Didn't see any place we wanted to stop for "breakfast". Instead of taking the toll autopista, as intended, we ended up on the old highway to Siena. Which was fine. Fewer150 kph speedsters. 4-lane road--an old freeway. Mostly uninhabited hills with deciduous trees--leaves yellow. The instructions I had to find Albergo Bernini, our B&B here in Siena, said follow signs to "the soccer stadium". Approaching town, I saw signs for "Il Campo". I thought: "campo" means "field", so that's probably right. Wrong. We climbed up to town on the wrong side and had to backtrack--traffic is not permitted to drive through the old, walled city (although lots of locals do drive around inside of the walls--with permits).. That wasn't the worst of the car situation for the day. Carlotta, the friendly young gal with good English at the albergo, showed me on a map where there was free overnight parking--lots of it. 'Problem was, there were even more cars--numerous ones double-parked, waiting for someone to leave and open up- a space. After circling for several minutes, I returned to the temporary parking by the church and got instructions from Carlotta to enter the stadium (make that "stadio") paid parking.

http://picasaweb.google.com/wrinkles45/Siena#

We have Room #10. My advanced reading had included mention of this room having a great view, so I asked for it. Does it ever have a view: San Domenico Church is framed perfectly by our bedroom window. And, it's nicely lit up at night. From our small bath window we have another postcard view of the cityscape, the magnificent public palace campanile (tower) on the left, the dome of the cathedral to the right. But, my source for the great view didn't mention the bed. Until now, we have had big, comfortable beds everywhere we've stayed. This bed is small (standard-sized), both saggy and hard. And squeaky. It's the middle of the night now and I'm typing here at a desk in the hall. Hopefully, Lucy has gone back to sleep. After falling asleep initially, I was awake and uncomfortable for some time before I got up. I could tell Lucy wasn't sleeping soundly either.
We've been to some beautiful; old cities this trip--Cannobio, Bergamo, Venice. Florence had lots of fine buildings and somewhat picturesque streets, but less stunning than the others. We only spent a night in Bologna, but were less taken with it. I find Siena has the most captivating panoramas of the old city. And, while curvy streets are part of the charm of all, I'd say the lanes in Siena are the crookedest of all.
More cathedral exploring. Pics permitted, providing no flash. My 10x Panasonic is great--it brings the stained glass windows full-frame. Stabilizing features are special too. I was able to zoon right up to Saint Caterina's preserved head! (in San Domenico Church--the one we see from our room).
We had dinner at a trattoria just below our window. Another outstanding dining experience. My hunter's-style chicken was suburb. So was the chocolate cake. Enough dessert? Naw, I finished off with a limoncita--famous Italian liquor. Yummy..
There's wifi here in the albergo. After getting on line earlier yesterday, in the evening there were connection problems. I'm going to pass more time, rather than crawl back in to that awful bed, by trying to get back on line now.

The Hermitage, Cinque Terre
Daily road report: We got out of Siena without problem and took the correct exits to get on the road to the coast. We decided we had time for a detour in to Pisa. 'Lucked out and found a parking spot on the street, only a block from the leaning tower. Took several pics.

http://picasaweb.google.com/wrinkles45/Pisa#

On our return to the autostrada, I entered a roundabout and exited too soon. It turned out to be a lovely road, passing through small towns, often tree-lined. I would have appreciated it more if I wasn't worried about where we'd have a chance to get back on the autopista, which we did at Lucca. There may have been a quicker way to get to the road to Vernazza, here in the Cinque Terre ("5 lands"), a section of coastline popularized by Rick Steves for it's beauty--a string of 5 towns hugging the steep shoreline, connected by train and walking trails--no roads between towns, except by climbing up and down the mountain via switchbacks.
Months ago, when I made the reservation here at the Hermitage, my knee surgery prior to the trip wasn't in the cards. Even without the surgery, I had no business deciding to stay in this place on the mountainside outside of town, up a series of irregular steps. While we were encouraged to leave most of our luggage in town, Lucy didn't know what to leave, so she has most everything. I left a bunch of clothes but brought the full-size laptop. We're paying to park the car at the edge of town, but I was uneasy about potential for a car break-in.

http://picasaweb.google.com/wrinkles45/TheHeritageCinqueTerre#

No dinner available here at the Hermitage. They do provide flashlights. There is a bar at the upper end of town, that we were told was open, so we decided to go there for dinner, But, on arriving, we found it closed. Lucy's knee was giving her trouble so she turned back and I went on down the grocery store (it closed as I was leaving), for cheese, bread, pesto and wine. Au Aussie couple staying here had a corkscrew.
Comfortable bed. Even so, I'm doing my usual wake up/get up for a while thing.

http://picasaweb.google.com/wrinkles45/VernazzaCinqueTerre#

Nerina's Room, Vernazza
We asked out of our second night at the Hermitage--the long trek from town too brutal. Fabio, the owner, was not around, but reachable by phone. The maid said the price would be half instead of the full 80 Euros for leaving after one night when we had reserved two. While I tried to play the invalid recovering from surgery, when I think about someone trying to back out on housing with me (not be obligated to give a 20-day notice or asking out at Beverly Beach for lack of being ocean-front), I shouldn't complain. The online description of the location clearly describes the hike up the mountain to get there and offers storage of luggage in town. I missed my opening the first night--a couple of gals showed up at the Hermitage, after dark, hoping to stay. They got on the phone with Fabio and left. I should have asked if they wanted to take our second night and, if so, inform Fabio. The maid called Nerina and we met her here in the town's square, next to the church, right on the harbor. We have a shared bathroom, but we've not seen nor heard anyone to share with.
It was a low-key day here in Vernazza. A small peninsula jutting in to the Ligurian Sea. Winding main street, alleys with stairs, colorful buildings crowded together, a beach, a boat landing, a couple of old towers. Steep hillsides surrounding, dotted with vineyards and a very few villas, high above the sea. A busy train station. We talked about catching a train to the next town, but noted that much of the ride might be underground, as trains arrive and leave town via tunnels. We also considered catching the passenger boat up or down the coast to the next town, but decided against it. The idea of getting back on the Blue Path linking villages was beyond consideration. The Hermitage was mostly up the Blue Path, with an additional series of stairs once we reached the green door. And, heading north out of town, we could see hikers--climbing a huge ridge. No, we made the right plan for the afternoon--a short stair climb to one of the towers right in town and meandering with camera while Lucy continued to shop for scarves and jewelry to take to those back home.
At dinner I switched the camera to view--I was going to delete some of the shots of the farmer in the vineyard that I'd taken while roaming around the Hermitage before breakfast--I kept trying to time the shot to catch his hoe on the upswing. Only 12 pictures showed up! A strange group of 12--some from earlier in the trip, others from different places in recent months. It was unbelievable--that all my pics to select from, for inclusion in my blog, could have vanished! With a turn of the camera setting (auto, scenery, sports, night, etc), I found all my pictures were still there. What a relief!
　
Back in the U.S. of A.
Monday afternoon, JFK, NY. Thanks to Samsung, I've got power for my laptop. Our current converter to European power was sketchy--hit & miss, and my laptop power reserves were gone.
Yesterday morning, as we clamed away from Cinque Terre, I tried to not endanger us on the narrow, twisting road, while catching glimpses of the beautiful terrain and ocean. When we found the autostrada our pace jumped from 20-40 kph to 120-140 kph. Italy has made a major investment in their super highways. Lots of tunnels, rather than climb over hills and mountains. Of course, they are great revenue-makers, as they are toll roads. We missed a turn approaching Genoa (Genova), so we had lunch near the old city. Unsure of how long it would take us to find our place for the night, I was reluctant to venture too far, so all we saw was one impressive building. Approaching Pavia, I figured after passing up Pavia sur ("south") exit I'd best not pass up Pavia norte ("north"). We had instructions to the hotel that mentioned another exit, but I figured it was premised on coming from Milan, not from Genoa. 'Familiar scenario--asking directions, not understanding them, asking again, eventually arriving at the Hotel Italia at 4:30 pm. The big attraction in the area--the Certosa di Pavia (charterhouse), according to Lonely Planet, "one of the most notable buildings of the Italian Renaissance". It closes at 5 pm. After checking in, we jumped back in the car and got to the Certosa just as it was closing. We took a few pics of the outside. I had a tasty calzone for my last dinner in Italy.
Following a nice breakfast spread that they opened early for us at 6:30 pm, we headed toward the Malpensa Airport in the rain. We managed to make about 10 exits on cue (truly a maze of autopistas around Milan). After repeatedly seeing "Malpensa" on highway reader boards, either for exiting or continuing straight ahead, there was an absence of "Malpensa" signs. I figured, since we should be getting closer, if we were still on the right path, we'd see confirming signs. I pulled off and got back on the autopista, using a tollbooth with a live toll person. His suggestion (Go toward Verese) wasn't helpful, as we were headed back in to Milan, with Verese behind us. Exits on the autopistas are not like here in the states, when it's simple to get off, cross over and head the other way. I got off, in to a maze of city streets and after about 10 minutes finally got heading toward Varese and Malpensa again. Meanwhile, I began have thoughts of not making the plane and being told our full fare tickets tomorrow would be $1200 each.
Finally, we reached Terminal 1 (But, should we go to Terminal 2?). Lucy confirmed we were at the right terminal--I left all bags with her and took the car back to the Budget parking lot. As I hoped, I didn't have to deal, then and there, with the consequences of killing two cars. The gal said the final bill will be mailed, so I'll have to wait to find out the verdict of what they charge me.
We made the plane. Actually, with a few minutes to spare. We were able to split up and each have an empty seat next to us, for the 8 hour 50 minute flight to New York. 'Nice to be back.

Summing Up
Advice to travelers to Italy: Take the train. If you must drive, do get a GPS. If they tell you there's none available, go to the next agency, until you get one. This advice doesn't come as a surprise, if you've taken the time to read my repeated tales of woe about being lost. And, wherever you rent a car, be sure to fill the tank with the right fuel! My plan to take sightseeing Michelin routes didn't work--we couldn't keep track of road signs. And, what with the time taken getting off track, I decided, whenever possible, to catch the fast autopistas to make of up for lost time.
I didn't pick up much Italian. My Spanish helped some. Most of the time, people were friendly when approached. In spite of being in areas that attract lots of international visitors, most people, other than in lodging and restaurants, didn't speak much, if any, English. On numerous occasions I overheard travelers speak to wait staff in English, then talk with each other in another language. Initially I was surprised, then realized English is a much more common second language than is Italian.
I’m not much of a museum or church connoisseur. There have been a few museums that really caught me. One in Toledo, Spain. The Anthropology Museum in Mexico City. The museums in Florence weren’t on that list, but I’m glad I visited them. Lucy was awestruck by David and his huge stature. Wanting to document with my camera, it was disappointing that camera use was prohibited in the museums and some churches. Other churches non-flash photos were permitted. My 10X Panasonic was great capturing stained glass windows.
I’ll resist boring you with details about costs. With the dollar at or near an all-time low against the Euro (about $1.50 to buy one Euro), this was not the best time to go, although I was happy with the weather, despite rain to start and on our last day to the airport. Even taking in to account we were frequenting mostly tourist destinations with inflated prices, I have to wonder if Italian salaries are large enough to be able to afford things, including eating out.
As the Picassa links attest, we visited many photogenic places. I didn't stop to take pics of the narrow, curvy roads, often with colorful old buildings crowding the roadway.
It measured up to the anticipation of the Big Retirement Trip. Big, as in 2 weeks is about right. Both Lucy and I are happy to be home, greeted by animals and our own bed!

Ecuador in Ellensburg

I'm up hours ahead of Sunday brunch here in Ellensburg. This gathering of mostly late 60s Ecuador Peace Corps volunteers was prompted by email outreach. I was traveling in Cuba and Mexico last November when I was surprised by an email from Frank Wujick. I hadn't seen or heard from Frank since the Oriente (Upper Amazon) of Eastern Ecuador in 1969.











For pics go to
https://photos.google.com/album/AF1QipMhIU3pA8-MCf6yIJFPPTTRjpjXP1ZsxJolWvAs

Frank trained me to become a topographer, to make something useful of the remaining 18 months of my 2-year stint as a volunteer, after trying for 6 months to put in to practice that elusive training in Campesino Leadership, tailored for the highlands where indigenous communities were challenged by USAID-provoked government granting of land with little to no help assisting former share croppers on how to self-govern and become their own merchants. In the jungles of the Oriente, the indigenas had a different challenge. Their ancestors had been nomadic. Gardens were best the first year after cleaning the jungle. Fishing and hunting grounds were also better when not over-used. Homes made almost entirely of bamboo cost next to nothing to build. So, the "poor" indigenas of the Oriente used to move from one sector to another, confident that the whole region was theirs. But, in the mid-20th century, scarcity of land in the Andes resulted in the beginning of colonization of the eastern jungles. Roads came, along with Spanish-speaking "blancos" ("whites"--actually, mestizos with skin darker than the most ardent sunbather of Northern European stock can ever hope for). The Quecha-speaking (a variation of the Incan language) indigenas had to face the reality that if they moved downstream for a change, as was their custom, when they came back they might find settlers had laid claim to a portion of their territory. The Ecuadorian government's land agency, IERAC, was commissioned to grant titles to the indigenas. Three reasons IERAC favored surveying colonist lands first: Colonists had to pay for land surveying. They "used" the land--needing cash to live, colonists cut down large sections of jungle, planting potrero--feed for cattle--or crops such as sugar cane. And, IERAC employed Spanish-speaking blancos who shared the colonists’ values and viewed indigenas, with their tiny garden patches, as "lazy" and not utilizing the land. In fact, the indigena lifestyle and knowledge of the jungle and soil conditions was generations ahead of our current enlightenment on sustainability. Frank was a pioneer, along with Greg Groppenbacher, in starting the Peace Corps surveying program. We went in to indigenous communities (comunas), sometimes for 22 days, followed by 8 days off--enough time to catch buses, via Puyo, Banos and Ambato, to get to Quito, where we could waste our $105 monthly salary in a week. The comunas' indigenas were happy to house and feed us, in exchange for delineating the tracts of jungle where they had decided they wanted to stay put.
Frank had kept in touch with John Hudelson over the decades. John was a volunteer around Puyo, also in the Oriente. After not finding his assignment as a physical education volunteer particularly meaningful and without the enthusiasm of our Peace Corps representative (supervisor), the latter part of his tour John recorded oral histories of the Quechuas. Frank and John also shared in a venture with several of us, beyond the Peace Corps pale--the purchase of Hacienda Buena Karma. John, along with Scott Robinson, an anthropologist, studying the Cofan, an indigenous group in the northern Oriente, stopped overnight at the farm on an upstream Napo River trip. It was for sale--145 hectares (350 acres), bordered by two Amazon tributaries--the mouth of the Misahualli, where it flows in to the Napo. A stream running through it, with a 20-30 foot waterfall. A house, lots of pasture, and a herd of cattle. There were 10 of us. We all contributed $500. Six of us were volunteers: Frank, John, Milton Coke, Hank Wetzman, Bill Cinquini and me. Ira and Lisa were with CARE, living in Quito. David and Sharon had been in Ecuador a year earlier, looking for land. They were conscripted and later lived on the farm. And Scott. And Helena—Milton found her in Quito, traveling south and told her she must come check out the farm we were about to buy. Helena, a Gringa from California, was on a South American journey of discovery. Not long after our purchase, Joe and Jim, hiking through the Andes with a burrow, heard of the farm. They gave up the burrow for the big house and became caretakers of sorts. Word got out and the 1970 South American Handbook made mention of the "hippie commune at Misahualli". We all moved on in the early 1970s and the farm was sold to family of a spouse of a PC volunteer. It's now an alleged "ecotourism" lodge -
https://www.misahualliamazonlodge.com

So, the reunion here in Ellensburg is a blend--late 60s volunteers and Buena Karma types. Along with Frank and John, I wear both hats-volunteer/farm owner. Other farm owners in attendance: Ira and Lisa and Helena. And Alfred's here-a farm resident during the initial golden era that saw construction of 4 huasis (indigena-style houses) at Buena Karma, From Frank's Bozeman training group in 1967, we have Ardis Barnum, Stu Moskowitz, Charlie Browne, and trainer Bernie Fiskins, along with his wife, Kate. From Campesino Leadership, I am joined by Bob Henderson. Bob and I were trainers at the Melville, Montana 1970 training, where Bob and Meg met. They are both here. John, who now is professor in the wine program here at Central Washington University (CWU), along with wife Carol, have generously opened their home to us and fed us Friday evening and Saturday morning.
Beginning Friday evening and again Saturday afternoon and evening, while reminiscing about Ecuador and catching others up on what we've done the last 40 years (!), Ira & John Hud treated us to wonderful jamming on banjo and guitar, Lisa accompanying them much of the time. At a barbeque on campus on Saturday, we gave a young tourism prof some thoughts to ponder in visiting Ecuador in an eco-friendly manner, Bob, Helena and I brought back memories with a slide show.
Sunday was busy, beginning with Sunday brunch and a phone conversation with Scott, from his home in Mexico. We visited the Wild Horse wind farm and the Gingko Petrified Forest on our way to the Cave B Winery overlooking the Columbia River, where Hud and the winery jefe gave us a history of wine growing in the Columbia River Valley, while serving us samples of several wines. We were ready to call it a day after a couple of pitchers with dinner at the Tav in Ellensburg.

The volleyball and net stayed in my pickup. While there were a few still-would-be-athletes amongst us, the persistent winds would have made unlikely anything resembling a volley.

Other 1970 trainees in Melville missing here: Jim Mullens and Lynn Hinch of Helena, Joel Mullen from Salt Lake and Fred DeSmith, from Louisiana, They are floating the Smith River in Montana this weekend. Only so many rafters are permitted each summer, decided by raffle. Lynn's number was drawn and to not use it would have been sacrilege.

Also missing is Jerry Beardsley, from the nearby Yakima Valley. Bob, Meg and Stu stayed with him each night. Jerry is still doing community development. This weekend he is coordinating getting produce to market from his farm, which he is sharing with Central Washington campesinos.

By Monday breakfast back at John and Carol's, several had already hurried off to busy lives, albeit allegedly "retired". No date set for our return as tourists to Misahualli Jungle Lodge. Scott Robinson’s home in the mountains south of Mexico City is also proposed as a potential site for a future reunion. Email will keep us in better touch with each other and future gatherings will happen. This one was a winner.

John Lowry
22 June 2009