It's Saturday -and we're on the train back to Rome.
The rain stayed away until yesterday – just in time for the Good Friday processional through Gaeta.
We dined at Rino and Yvonne's in anticipation, after a morning of shopping in Formia and a little reposo nap back at our apartment.
The rain delayed the processional, but it came nonetheless. Jesus and Mary were just covered in plastic – but the local band played and the cross bearers marched.
It was very sweet and a nice little flavor of where we were.
This morning, after cappucinos at the local cafe, we met our landlord to handover the keys and he – quite nicely and to our immense relief – gave us a ride to the train station at Formia (otherwise, we would have had to stand in the rain and take the bus).
We're rested and relaxed – and we're ready to head home.
We've enjoyed our stay - but much of it remains foreign and strange to us.
The self-centeredness of the residents is highly incongruous with the friendliness. The same person who will step in front of you in line or cut you off in traffic will smile and chat with you when he is behind the counter.
We've enjoyed ourselves – we have met some wonderful people and seen some amazing sites.
But we're ready to come home. We miss our lives – our dogs, our friends, our bed – our cleaning products!!!!
We're excited to have one more night in Rome -it's our buffer before boarding that airplane tomorrow afternoon.
Buon Giuorno – we'll see you when we get home.
Ciao!
It's Thursday morning in Gaeta.
Brian and I have just woken up- and it's 11 am. Personally, I'd still be in bed if the family in the apartment next door had not held the all-yelling re-enactment of the invasion of Normandy.
Humorous note: Brian has just emerged from the diminutive shower and proclaimed it as a device designed to discourage personal cleanliness. Ha ha. It's true - it is basic functionality at its very best...or worst.
Today is our first day since landing in Rome where it has just the two of us – Jim's ship sails to Croatia tomorrow. And Matilda and T-Bone are up in Tuscany until Saturday.
Wednesday, Brian, Jim and I went to Pompeii.
It was an amazing trip. Taking the bus to Formia, we boarded the commuter train for Salerno. Unlike the high-speed TrenItalia Inter-city we took from Rome, this was the Italian version of New York's Metro-North – only with bubblegum colored interiors, lousier seats and graffiti we couldn't read.
After nearly two hours passing through some of the prettiest countryside and crummiest towns we'd seen here, and struggling through the commuter crush of Naples, we emerged on the other side and detrained at the Pompei station.
New Pompei is actually a very quaint town, with bolder colors on their Mediterranean-style buildings, huge palm trees and much cleaner streets than we had seen between here and Formia.
Since we had somewhat limited time and it was actually hot when we exited the train, we allowed ourselves to be taken advantage of to the tune of 10 euro for what was probably a 2-3 euro taxi ride to the main gate at the Pompeii dig.
Note to future travelers to Pompeii: The ladies outside the gate selling the guidebooks and maps are NOT affiliated with the actual Pompeii attraction. Once you buy your tickets (11 euro each – quite reasonable), they give you a free book and map.
Call me 8 euro poorer. Doh!
(But it is prettier than the free book – so it's your call)
The sheer size of Pompeii is breathtaking. You enter through the same road to the port that the Pompeiians used to flee to the water when Vesuvius was erupting – brrr- chilling. The stone roads, sidewalks and gutters reflect the wear of centuries by humans, animals and carts – you simply can't imagine how alive this city once was.
The engineering and architecture of what remains gives a glimpse into the brilliance and ingenuity of the Roman culture, while the remaining paintings,mosaics and frescoes illustrate what a feeling the Pompeiians had for grace and beauty.
You can't adequately put into words what we saw – the gardens, the temples, the rooms where every day life took place. But the most moving moment was, of course, standing in the Garden of the Refugees and seeing the remains of a handful of adults and children, forever frozen in time in their stone enclosures.
Just knowing how desperate these unknowns were – trying to flee the city and then dying such a horrible death – you couldn't help but be silent and respectful. In fact, we were among a group of tourists at the garden and no one spoke. And when one woman did begin a conversation with a friend, it felt as inappropriate as laughing in church.
It's hard to see all of Pompeii in a day – but we saw what we could and snapped a zillion photos (which I hope to up-load one day without having to buy a Chinese dinner).
We ended the day in Gaeta at “The Dutch”- a restaurant owned and run by Jim's friends, Rino and Yvonne – he's a local boy and she's from Amsterdam. They're great people and a lot of fun.
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Thursday was a slow day for us. We slept till 10 – had a couple leisurely cappuccinos and some insanely good breakfast nibbles.
We then walked the 1.5 miles into old Gaeta and explored the city some more. It was another blue sunny day – the winds were mild coming off the bay.
Around lunchtime, we headed to our favorite wi fi hotspot – the Chinese restaurant. We dined on gnocchi and fettucine – and managed to update my blog and upload a few pictures.
I'm loving this vacation and all – but I'd be happier with a little more connectivity.
When we spoke with Rino and Yvonne (a former secretary at IBM, our Ms, Yvonne! circa 1973!), the local authorities will charge you 2,500 euro a month to maintain an unsecured wi fi spot. You have to secure it or essentially be fined.
Apparently the Chinese place is a well-known secret operation – lol.
After lunch – which included glasses of wine and prosecco, we headed for the Blue Bar near the beach. We sat and had cocktails in honor of Reposo and watched the clouds skim over the mountains and the waves break against the seawall.
We met Jim at Vic's for drinks and hor's douvres and – as if I needed to – proved my conjecture about our gay waiter by successfully getting his phone number and e-mail address.
How does he do it? You might well ask. : )
We dined that night at Cafe Lolo, which is run by a local Fabio look-alike. Apparently, women flock there to have their photos taken with him.
That's about the only attraction,because the food was dreadful. I had “steak” that was mostly gristle and Brian's chicken dish was largely inedible.
Anyway – we're off to Formia tomorrow for some shopping. Then back to Rome on Saturday.
Bueno Serra, all!
From sea to mountain top to sea. Wow- what a day.
We returned today (Tuesday) to Sperlonga where we enjoyed an unhurried visit before Reposo.
After breaking the bank at the local pottery shop- where I met the most charming lady potter who spoke nearly no English – and whose day was apparently made after making a sale in excess of 100 Euro off-season- we enjoyed a leisurely caffe then headed back to Gaeta to meet up with our landlord.
You could have knocked me over with a feather when we met Cosmo Di Russo. Every image I had invented of an oily, shiny-suited, overweight slum lord was shattered when we pulled into our parking lot and a shy, professorial, bearded and bespectacled - on site, a rather scholarly type – tall and lanky gentleman stepped from his car (An Audi A4 wagon,which - I am told – is a sign that he does quite well financially).
Cosmo was shy and sweet -he asked three different times whether the apartment was okay.
He turned on the hot water heater and radiator system which, it appears, we had accidentally shut off.
Oops.
He then invited us to follow him to his family store, which we did. Upon arrival, we sampled fresh cheeses, prosciutto, mortadella, olives, tapenades and wine – all made by him and his family.
And let me tell you – pretty much everywhere we have gone, somewhere in the background, usually in a corner, is the omnipresent mother/grandmother type, overseeing what is going on – and correcting, as necessary.
I should also mention that when we arrived on Sunday, there was small bottle of homemade olive oil, ajar of olive tapenade, and a container of Gaeta olives – all made by Cosmo – awaiting us on our kitchen table.
He was adamant in understanding words and phrases he did not understand – and politely helped us correct our Italian pronunciations. He was exceedingly nice and polite – and in perhaps the most poignant moment for us in Italy yet, he said, “This is a proud moment for me” - meaning he took great pride in having people appreciate the products he and his family make.
I mean, come on – what's a mildly filthy apartment against that? I was nearly verklempt.
After that, we said farewell to the Di Russos and made our way to Itri – the olive growing capital of the Gaeta region – where we paused for a capuccino at one of the sidewalk cafes still open during Reposo.
From there, we ventured to Campodemile (campo-day-mee-lay),a mountain-top town that sits high above the olive valleys and from which you can see down three sides of the mountain into the valleys below.
Campodemile is also one of those park-your-car-and-walk kind of towns – and is renowned for the longevity of its residents, who generally survive to the ages of 100-110.
Standing atop the mountain, looking over the valleys surrounding Campodemile, all we could hear was the wind and the collective, random clanging of cow bells from the many freely-roaming cows we saw wandering through the olive groves.
We then headed back to Gaeta for the most eagerly anticipated activity of all – laundry!!
Again, Brother Jim came to our rescue. We stopped at the apartment (now warm and with hot water again freely available) to gather our dirty clothes, and then
We loaded the clothes in the washers and headed over to Vic's ristorante and bar – a waterfront favorite for Americans and Italians alike.
Vic has apparently been a wise businessman- catering to generations of American military while still making his place a destination for locals.
After so many days of trying just to communicate, transact and order food that won't make me throw up- it's exceedingly odd to be dining with a huge wide-screen TV playing the Simpsons and Family Guy- while the speakers carry Phil Collins. It was TOO American.
To rebel, we ordered Italian food.
I also solved a mystery that has been plaguing the boat boys for much too long – specifically, why Vic's key waiter – Mauricio – is so nosey, gossipy and into everybody's business.
Yes. The Gaydar chime rang.
Gaeta, as Jim has explained to us, is friendly, diverse and welcoming. And it's okay to be a visiting homosexual- just not a resident one. There exists a subculture of married gays – men with wives and children – who sometimes simply make “other arrangements.”
Mauricio was practically running people down to get to any handsome American that walked in. What Jim and his ship-mates had a little trouble recognizing was simply an oppressed little local who wanted to get his groove on.
After a few trips back and forth between Vic's and the base, we finally gathered our still wet clothes (the Navy purchased European dryers which,while offering many very specific functions, do not actually appear to dry clothes.), and headed back to our apartment.
Then we went native and hung the clothes out on our uncovered balcony to dry in the still night air. Another beautiful day had passed and exhaustion and relaxation claimed us quickly.
And, as we slept - for the first time since we arrived - it began to rain.
AAAAARRRGGGH.
Oh my God - Rome is unbelievable.
My man Elliot blew it. Damn. The face says it all.
And we finally got to meet Laurie's new love, John! Yay!
Thanks to Gawker.com for their ongoing and extensive coverage of the Times Square recruiting station bombing."Suddenly a bomb in Times Square is a big deal? No one reported Paul Simon for The Capeman."
"Well heck. Back in the 60's putting a pipe bomb in the doorway of an Army Recruiting Station was just considered teen-aged hijinx. Can't a kid have any fun anymore?"
