Replacement

A NEW KNEE

By the time you read this we will have been at the condo for just over a month.  We came just in time to have a couple of days of rain from Hurricane Willa that passed north of us and tropical storm Vincente that grazed the coast; storms seems to follow Mrs.T.  Thanksgiving will have passed and we will have overstuffed at Sandrina's. And the Buckeyes will have trounced that 'team up north'. Most importantly, Rebecca is well into rehabilitation of her new knee.  

Rebecca has written a very short description of recent events related to her surgery.  She is still in some pain although the bulk of it has greatly subsided. She is anxious to get back to normal activities, especially SCUBA and horses.  Her rehabilitation is right on schedule and she is doing quite well. But those two more strenuous activities are still a few weeks away. Still, it is much better to be recuperating here rather than in wintertime Ohio.  You might want to revisit our last newsletter before you see the latest:

We are lounging in the sunshine.  Dan is reading a book about Putin.  (Thanks Nick -dt) I am working on a jigsaw puzzle.  The last three weeks have been spent concentrating on me recovering from knee surgery..  I progressed from agonized shrieks to pitious moans to surprised EEKs. I can walk pretty well now, but I am not completely better as my knee reminds me when I try a move which was automatic a month ago.  I am at the point I am impatient to get well.

How did we get to this state?  We tried to schedule my surgery in the US.  After several weeks of appointments we thought we had made it then it was called off because of my oxygen or actually lack thereof. (See the previous newsletter  -dt) After many more weeks of different tests and getting closer to our time of winter departure we seemed to be getting nowhere fast and finally we gave up. "Forget it; we will do it in Mexico," Dan said.  As usual he was right.

We arrived at the condo on a Monday. On Thursday I saw Dr. Victor, our doctor here, and got x-rays.. On Friday I got blood tests.  On Saturday I met Dr. Roberto, the surgeon, and another doctor and got more x-rays. On Tuesday the surgical team of nine different people came to Dr. Victor's Clinica Santa Rosa near where we live and did the surgery,  On Wednesday I came home. Since then it has been moaning and groaning and exercises and physical therapy. Really everyone says I am doing very well.

One of the tests I needed to take in the US was a sleep study.  This was not one of my favorite things But as a result of that I needed a CPAP machine.  The thing is that just a couple of weeks before we left I got this mask that goes over my face for sleeping.  They tell me that in time I will grow to love it but so far that has not occured. (Not love it but become accustomed to it  -dt) When I wake up in the middle of the night - a regular occurrence these days - I immediately panic, thinking some beast is on top of my face trying to smother me.  (She has encountered too many octopuses when diving -dt) Then I sit up and begin to realize that it is the CPAP mask. I can't figure out in the dark how to undo the straps so I can take off the dang thing to go to the bathroom.  When I finally get it off I jump out of bed. YEOUCH!!

Not a good idea to jump out of bed right after knee surgery.  I rebound back into bed and sit a few moments recovering before I carefully slip out of bed and limp to the bathroom.  When I limp back I sit on the edge of the bed trying to untangle all those straps so I can put the breathing torture device back on my face without waking Dan.  Do you wonder that I don't love it? (She has gotten much better with it. -dt)

Everyone in Mexico has been most kind, giving me presents and flowers and visiting and entertaining me.  Of course Dan has been the most helpful of all, doing all the chores and cooking and laundry. (Nothing new there -dt)  He was my exercise supervisor allowing no cheating and urging me to lift my leg higher etc. with great enthusiasm. But after three weeks he decided I could do it myself.  It is not so much fun cheating when you are only fooling yourself.

II can walk pretty well now.  I explained to Dan that it would be good if each day we walked to dinner at a different restaurant a little further away.  There are about twenty within a couple blocks of where we live, but Dan did not buy it. However we are going to Sandrina's for Thanksgiving.  It is a little further away but they have the best pumpkin pie in the world! (Indeed it is! -dt)

Yesterday I got in the pool for the first time.  With our solar heating it was 80 degrees Fahrenheit  and felt wonderful. I could cavort about and it felt great. The only thing is I couldn't get out without Brenda holding my hand. (Big thank you!   -dt) Sigh! Anyway thanks for the good wishes from everyone, I am getting well as fast as I can.

Other things have transpired for us as well; here are some snippets.  Be sure to check out the pictures: https://flic.kr/s/aHskMUZBsQ

• Just before we left we had an example of why a falling tree and a car do not mix well.  The picture says it all. Squish! Any suggestions for its replacement?

• Revolution Day has come and gone, and the annual parade had the usual excitement.

• Jigsaw puzzles have already commenced especially as Judy, Dr. Puzzle, has returned.

• We had a splendid visit with our most talented friend Algis whose film "The Messenger Hermes Remembers" has been selected for festivals in Venice and Sicily.

• Last year's holiday cards were lost in some postal blackhole.  This year we just did not get to making them.

• Finally, our thoughts are with Randy who is convalescing back in Canada.  We wish him all the best.

Depending when you read this Mrs.T may be up and around quite nicely.

We hope you have survived Black Friday/Cyber Monday and are preparing for joyful holidays.  Best wishes to all.

Dan and Rebecca

www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com

Sent from Outlook

Rough Day

THE OPERATION - Terrible, Horrible

As most of you know Mrs.T has a fake knee.  As she describes below, after Italy she decided it was time to get another on the other side.  The day turned into quite an ordeal. Mrs.T has been in quite a bit of pain, both physical and psychic.  And her memory is sometimes a bit off. Thus you will read the Editor figures in her comments. Some of you will say she is right on target; some of you will think that she is talking about someone else.  The truth lies somewhere in between.

I knew it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. (See the children's book:  Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.  -dt)  I knew because it was the day of THE OPERATION!!    

Because it was the day of THE OPERATION  I had to get up very early.  I hate getting up early. I need my sleep.  "Hurry! Hurry!" said my grumpy husband. He is in charge of getting me to the hospital.  Because of THE OPERATION I cannot eat breakfast.  I cannot drink anything either.  My throat feels like a cactus. I hate THE OPERATION.

THE OPERATION is really my fault.  My knee had been bad for a long time.  I walked and walked in Italy trying to see lots of things.   My knee had a flat tire and now I need a new one. My husband had to drive 75 miles to get to the hospital.  We passed one closed road and three traffic slowdowns because of accidents. "You see why we had to start early," he said.  "Yes dear," I said. (R slept through most of the trip as usual. -dt)

When we got to the hospital it was a very big place.  It had three front doors. "Well, where are we supposed to go in?" my grumpy husband  asked. I did not know and I told him that. I thought one sign pointed to a door that said Main Entrance.  "HOW DID YOU GET TO BE 67 YEARS OLD AND STILL CAN'T READ A SIGN?" my grumpy husband shouted at me. (Although she is a prodigious reader of fiction, R often is rather slow with everyday material.  -dt) I felt very bad. "Get the book," my grumpy husband commanded. I got the official book about new knees operations. It did not tell where we were supposed to go in. "THIS BOOK IS USELESS!" my grumpy husband shouted. (R says I shout even when I whisper.  -dt) Well, in this case it was useless. I knew it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

My husband went in to check it out.  Then I went in to register while he went to find a place to park.  There were lots of cars there. I asked him to give me my insurance cards but he would not do it. (Did not happen. -dt)  When I went in the first thing they ask for was my insurance cards. I explained that my husband had them and he was parking.  "You must not mind him he is a little grumpy," I explained. We went through a bunch of other things, name, address, date of birth, that kind of thing.  The lady already had all this information; perhaps it was a test to see if I was who I claimed. Although I can't really think there are many people claiming to be me to get a knee replacement but I suppose anything  is possible.

Eventually my husband returned and handed over the cards.  The lady made copies and gave them back. My husband took over answering all the questions. This went well until we got to the living will. "Well did you forget to bring it?" my husband accused.  "It is in the bag," I replied. "We have it here," my husband informed the lady. "I need it now." The lady calmly replied. "Well, I suppose you expect me to go out and get it," my husband grumped.  "Yes, please," she said sweetly. We had finished with the rest when he returned and she copied the will and gave me my bracelet and we were off to another waiting room.

The tech who took us asked me my name and date of birth although we had just been introduced.  She checked it against my bracelet to see if I was whom I claimed to be. This procedure was repeated many, many times.  I wondered if they had misplaced a lot of patients in the past. After several more times I was possessed of an almost uncontrollable urge to claim to be George M. Cohan born on the 4th of July.  I behaved myself. (The 'anxiety' pill R took before entering the building was probably kicking in. -dt)

I limped down the hall to the waiting room - lippity, lippity, not very fast.   We had lost my husband to a restroom when I was delivered to the desk. After I recited my name and date of birth I signed something and was given two secret numbers.  The first secret number was for friends and family so they could call and ask how I was doing. The second number was for my husband so that when he was not with me he could look me up on the status board to see what was up with me.  I knew it was going to be a long, hard, terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.  

My husband turned up and I explained the secret numbers and gave them to him.  I looked around this was a very BIG waiting room. There was lots of waiting going on around here.  I waited and waited. I was about to ask if I could sleep on my husband's shoulder when my person showed up calling for Rebecca.  Even though she had just called my name I still had to recite my name and date of birth and she had to check my bracelet before she to could take me back to be 'prepped' for THE OPERATION.   My husband could not come; this was a mixed blessing.  He is annoying but he is also comforting.

I went back to prep station 4.  After I recited my name and DOB and was checked against my bracelet I got to put on a gown; I hate those things.  I was hooked up to a machine that recorded my vital signs. A nurse hooked up my IV. "You will feel a little prick, " the nurse said.  I felt a BIG Jab. "We can adjust that," she said and poked me again even harder. I miss the kind and gentle phlebotomist nurse at my doctor's office. (I call her the vampire.  -dt) It was a long, hard, painful, terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. The nurse asked all kinds of health questions. Every so often the machine would beep. "Take deep breaths," the nurse said.  After I took a few deep breaths the beeping stopped. The nurse said an anesthesia doctor would come to see me soon; then she went away.

I was bored.  I tried to lower my blood pressure on the machine.  It did not work. I sometimes can do this but not today.  I tried making pictures on the machine with my breathing. I could make tall spiky lines, with quick breaths.  I could make mountains with long slow breaths. I could make Devils Tower; take a deep breath, hold it, let it out quickly.  My husband came then to keep me company. I showed him my Devils Tower. "You are acting like a 12 year old," he grumped. (She was, but I did not say so.  -dt) I suppose I was. I stopped playing with the machine except when it beeped I took deep breaths.

The nurse returned and began asking questions about pain. " What is your pain level now?" she asked. "Two," I replied.  The nursed wrote down two. We want to get your pain under control before we send you home after THE OPERATION the nurse said.  What would be a good pain level you could handle at home?  "Nine," my husband replied positively. (In jest. -dt) Both the nurse and I gave him dirty looks.  "Well she handles pain well," he replied to our unspoken criticism. "Six or seven" I said. The nurse wrote down four or five.

The anesthesia doctor came.  He explained about the new painkillers.  "I don't like your oxygen," he said. I held my breath in fear.  The machine beeped. I made deep breaths. "We will give you a breathing treatment then we will see,"  the doctor said. "If your not oxygen levels do not improve you can't have THE OPERATION."  After all this I just wanted to get it over with.  I had the treatment. I breathed better for a little while but then the machine beeped again - low oxygen.  I am going to talk to the surgeon the anesthesia doctor said.

The two doctors returned.  "I am sorry you cannot have THE OPERATION today," the surgeon told me.  I looked at them with what my husband calls my sad cow eyes.  It did not work. "You see if there is a problem with the anesthesia something bad might happen during or after THE OPERATION, something like a stroke or a heart attack."  Tears streamed silently down my face. (Unbeknownst to me.  -dt) My father died of heart failure after surgery. Today was a long, hard, painful, scary, high blood pressure, low oxygen, terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

Unlike some of our missives this one is very current.  Mrs.T is still not in the best of shape physically or emotionally.  But she did manage to secure an appointment with a pulmonologist in Columbus in about ten days; the one in Zanesville was not going to be available until almost the end of August.  Of course we expect tests, treatments, and the usual medical mumbo jumbo. Depending upon that assessment we will see when the knee operation can be rescheduled. Unfortunately, especially when including the time necessary for rehab,  we could start to bump into our winter departure date. But we need this to be done so that Rebecca can still enjoy SCUBA and horses in Mexico.

Stay tuned for an update later  this summer.

Dan and Rebecca

www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com  

Sent from Outlook

Italy - Finale

ISLAND OF GLASS

We are back in Philo and The Muse has put together a piece about our last stop:  Venice. The glass conference in Murano was actually the genesis for our trip. We attend the Glass Art Society conferences only sporadically especially as we have essentially 'retired' from the scene.  But this conference in a more exotic locale was great stimulus for a vacation. And so we concluded our trip at the beginning of the plan.

We arrived in Venice by way of a fast train from Florence, again an excellent experience.  After a trip by vaporetto to the Fondamente Nuove and a short walk, we lodged at the 'Orange' apartment; the photos explain that.  As with our other stops, the proprietor, Chantal, was excellent - knowledgeable and helpful. We were in a good location, Campiello Widmann in Venice, convenient to many restaurants and shops.  But as Mrs.T relates, Venice is a pedestrian oriented city and presented some challenges.

We arrived on Mother's Day and to R's surprise the next morning a nice arrangement of flowers arrived.  Thank you Dave and everyone at Imlay. Some claim the editor is a throwback which is okay with him.

Here are Rebecca's highlights of Venice:

Venice is a bunch of islands in a lagoon on the east coast of Italy. (Most of the buildings sit on top of wooden pilings.  -dt) Hundreds of years ago trading ships from all over met there to sell or trade their cargo for something else. Being located on islands gave the traders a certain amount of security.  The boats could travel from one island to another. Bridges for people to walk between the islands were built high in the middle to let the boats go under. People had to go uppity up up, walk across, and then go down de down down to visit their neighbors or whatever.  These bridges, while quite picturesque, soon lost their charm for old people with arthritic knees. By the end of our stay when we considered going somewhere we counted the bridges we would have to cross to get there.

Venice has always been a party town.  All these sailors who finally got to port had to be entertained.  While a lot of cities have a few days or a week of Mardi Gras, Venice has literally months of Carnival. (It is mostly limited to Lent.  -dt) I suppose it started small and was so much fun that every year or two they added another week. Anyway during Carnival everyone wears masks so that if you make a fool of yourself no one knows for sure it was you.  These masks are very intricate and beautiful. Usually they are made of paper mache but they can be made of leather, wood, glass, or who knows what. I wanted to buy one but Dan said loudly NO MASKS! (I needed to be clear and concise.  -dt) He reasoned that I did not like or go to parties much. And also it would probably get smushed in my luggage. Both were good reasons so I desisted, but they were beautiful. Besides I bought lots of other stuff including a Lion of St. Mark flag.  This lion has wings and is supposed to protect Venice. He stands on top of a tall pillar. We saw it on the way to the Guggenheim Museum.

In Venice we went to church at the Basilica of St John and St Paul.  I'm not certain what makes a church a Basilica; I'm pretty sure a Cathedral must have a bishop.  (A Basilica has special Papal requirements and recognition. -dt) But anyway… this Basilica was quite large with lots of dramatic renaissance paintings, statues, marble columns etc.  I was happy to see it was more attended than the church in Florence. I also noted that there were a lot more men in attendance than seems to be usual in Italian churches. (Mrs.T has a small database for this assertion.  -dt) These men were wearing suits and ties. The women were dressed up more than usual also. Whoops! Yes, there were a lot of little girls in white dresses running around. I elbowed Dan. "We're in trouble," I whispered.  "I think this is First Communion." Dan did not think so. (It was also Pentecost. -dt) But then we saw lots of priests wandering about. (Four priests and two deacons officiated. -dt) Dan said if we could spot a bishop it was Confirmation.  I didn't see any red hats or any pointed ones either. You can tell those bishops by their hats. Then just to confuse the issue Dan noted that in Italy it could be a Cardinal. Dan has always felt a little special because he was confirmed by a Cardinal.  In the end I was right; it was a First Communion. The thing is that sometimes these affairs last forever. With all those priests I was not optimistic. But they had this thing running like a well-oiled machine. I scooted back in my chair to let a grandmother lean over me to take photos.  They had a children's choir which sounded rich but lacked in volume. When it came to wishing your neighbors peace I was confused and said LaPaz when I should have said Pace.  But other than that it went well and I did not fall asleep. (Amazingly -dt) When the mass was over we wandered around looking at the church a bit before we went home.

A word about clothes.  Italian men are the best dressed in the world.  

Their clothes actually fit them!  I did not see any baggy pants that you feared would fall off at any second.  Rich or poor, fat or thin, old or young men's clothes fit them perfectly. The clothes were not too loose or too tight.  The colors were quite various but none gave me a headache. Even the tee shirts which had slogans did not offend, possibly because I do not understand Italian.  Italian women's clothes which in general had a certain panache were much harder to define. These clothes tended toward intended extremes. Some were too tight; some were too loose; some were too bright; some were too plain; some were too fussy.  Women's clothes made a statement. And Italian women seemed quite at home in their clothes. (I noticed that despite all the pasta and pizza that Italians are generally rather thin. -dt) I on the other hand looked at myself in the mirror when I had my blue raincoat on and my white Tilley hat and was suddenly struck  by my resemblance to Paddington Bear. I love my hat. Daphne had one and she graciously told me where I could get one. I get lots of compliments on my hat. Dan looks kind of like an explorer. He has pants and a vest which have lots of pockets. He has a Tilley hat too. (Several actually -dt)

We came to Venice to attend the Glass Art Society Conference.  For centuries Italian glass made on the Isle of Murano was the best in the world.  The Italian glass workers are certain it still is. (Most American glass work is done in the Italian style, that is a method, not just a look. -dt) Be that as it may, this conference with glass workers from all over the world was amazing.  We think we know glass making pretty well but we are left with our mouths open thinking: How did they do that? One big vase or jar or something was so heavy it took three very burly men to lift it. Keep in mind we are talking about a huge lump of semi-liquid glass holding a temperature of over 1000 degrees Fahrenheit.  You had to keep turning it slowly or it would slump right off the rod and you would be left with a large glass puddle with lots of cracks as it cooled. There is not much of a market for cracked glass puddles these days but I suppose you could call it an installation; just kidding I hope.

This being an international conference we saw lots of old friends from all over. (There was a good contingent with Ohio connections. -dt) We first met some of them at an international conference in Japan some twenty years ago. (Our first GAS conference was in Toledo in 1992. -dt) Besides seeing the demonstrations of masters doing things we could never hope to do we both enjoyed browsing through the shops which held everything from trinkets to masterpieces. (We picked up one of those. -dt)  Even the worst piece from Murano is better than a lot of things from other places. I loved the intricate dragon goblets and was impressed by the universal clarity and brilliance of the different glass colors. There were forms I had never thought of, most skillfully executed. (Dragon goblet maker extraordinaire Bill Gudenrath gave a marvelous organ concert at San Pietro Chapel. -dt)

We are extremely fond of the floral paperweights made by Paul Stankard.  (Paul and most of the other US maestros were not in attendance. -dt) We love their accuracy in color and form.  But we missed this accuracy in sea creatures until this time when we went to Murano. Vittorio Costantini was a fisherman, and his father and grandfather were fishermen before him so he knows the sea.  I was astounded when I walked by his shop window and saw a nudibranch! (It was very close to our apartment. -dt) As a SCUBA diver I love these delicate little creatures. But I had never seen or expected to see one in glass.  In fact the window was full of shells, anemones, crabs, shrimp, fish, squid, and on and on - all delicately, accurately portrayed in colored glass. I was enchanted.

I was going to go in but he was closed with a sign on the door GONE TO MURANO.  Of course. When we checked him out in our little booklet we discovered that he was one of the demonstrators.  Can I pick them or what. Later that evening we met him when he returned to his shop. He did not speak much English but he understood my Spanish pretty well.  When I asked about nudibranchs he produced a box of about 15 different varieties. I was astounded. (R bought two. -dt ) The next day when we went to watch his demo the studio had a lot more people than we had seen in the other lampworking demos.  He made a hummingbird. (We went back to his shop again and bought a hermit crab. -dt)

In Murano there were also a lot of bridges large and small to get to different studios and galleries.  (Some of the studios could be reached by only a convoluted path. -dt) One day we went to the glass museum.  It was interesting to see how the production of glass had progressed during the ages. (Nearly all the modern maestros were well represented.  -dt)

The Guggenheim was a nice change of pace after we had visited and viewed all those renaissance masterpieces.  This was mostly a 20th century collection - everyone from Moore to Mondrian, from Pollock to Picasso. Some of it I loved; some I disliked; some left me confused.  The Moore's were really nice. This was a nice unprepossessing museum. (The excellent special show at the time was 'Josef Albers in Mexico'. -dt)

By this time we were exhausted from all of our Italian adventures so we packed up and next day got in a water taxi for the first leg of our trip home. (The bulk of the return was nicely made in a relatively new Boeing Dreamliner.  -dt)

Here are some photo highlights from our Venice adventure:  https://flic.kr/s/aHsmmsZ8w8

And a very special thanks to JT-L for my bastone; it went a long way to making this trip possible. It was quite the hit everywhere.

You can expect us to be on our usual summer hiatus.  R is back in her element with flowers, trees, and horse friends.  Repairs await us. And new phones. The heat and humidity are already here as well.

Hope you all have a great summer.

Dan and Rebecca

www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com

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City of Museums

CITY of the MEDICI

After our most pleasant time in Stresa we headed for Florence via Milan.  Train service is exceptional in Italy and we would not be surprised if it were in most of Europe.  Train travel is great for relatively short distances without the major hassle of the airport security.  We made a discovery: The train stations offer services for gimps like us. Not only does one get to the right train car, but they also assisted us up the steps, and with our luggage.  It was a very pleasant service.

As Mrs.T mentioned, she put great effort into trying to learn some Italian.  By and large she made progress. However she has a tendency to slip into Spanish.  Over the years in Mexico her Spanish has become quite acceptable. But here she speaks a sort of mashup of Spanish, Italian, and English.  The folks are very understanding and proceed as if nothing is out of the ordinary. And many are reasonably fluent in several languages. When at the Uffizi, several of the information desks were handled by young students studying languages.  Such attention to tourists is very satisfying.

Mrs. T has failed to mention the weather, which to be generous, has been okay.  We had only some sunshine on and off, both in Stresa and Florence. The weather was generally damp and there were showers in both cities, even a thunderstorm in Florence.  It was a bit chilly at night and only 70ish in the day (22c or so). Mostly this was not a problem but certainly not the best weather. Currently in Venice we have had some significant rain and thunderstorms although it may be clearing a bit.

On to Rebecca's latest:

When we arrived in Florence the train station assistants for people with disabilities were waiting.  They helped us off the train and got us installed in a taxi. Their service was much better than at the US airports.

The little apartment we stayed in was on the ground floor near Piazza San Marco. (Yes, there is one in Florence.  -dt) Many of the streets near the center of town are full of rows and rows of four story buildings, quite packed together, that curve and wind around little plazas, River Arno, stone churches, and old palaces, following, I can only suppose, the path of medieval streets.  These buildings seem to be made of different materials, mostly stone of different varieties but that is only a facade. The buildings we saw being repaired all had brick walls with a facade 6 to 12 inches on the outside. (Old buildings are made of stone but newer ones have been built to appear that way.  -dt) Buildings have stories about ten feet high and imposing wooden doors with fanciful knockers; ours were lions but that was just for show. Our door had a strong spring and one needed the strength of Samson to open it.

To get to our apartment we tiptoed through the living room of the owner out to a charming little courtyard which was surrounded by other buildings.  We could see up the back windows of the neighbors and of course they could look down on us. But we had our own little paradise of potted plants, a little table where we could eat outside when the weather permitted, sheltered by a vine arbor cover with flowering plants which smelled lovely.  I thought they might be jasmine. Our ceiling was about ten feet high with wooden beams. We were home. Our place: https://flic.kr/s/aHsmhVDoc6

Florence is an old city.  It is full art and history, palaces and gardens, churches and museums.  In fact the city put together a package for tourists good for admission to 72 sites in 72 hours. (The FirenzeCard -dt)  You could see all of Florence in three days, but of course you have no time off for sleeping. Who would be so silly as to buy such a thing?  Evidently lots of people, but not us.  In our ten days here we visited a few museums, churches, and a garden taking our time.

One of the first places we went was to the Academy to see David. (Galleria dell'Accademia -dt) This is a work of art almost everybody thinks they have seen.  But no, you have not seen David until you have seen the original in Florence. We must have seen a hundred excellent sculptures in the first few days but they were nothing; David was everything.  It's not just the size. Although David is taller by half again than most of the others. Nor is it the color, although the brightness of the carrera marble captures your imagination. It is not even the physical accuracy although this statue is Michelangelo at his best.  (some parts are out of proportion -dt) There is a spirit in this work that cannot be denied. Perhaps Shelley in his poem Ozymandias explained it when describing another statue:  

"Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;"

Something of Michelangelo's hand that recreated the marvel of his subject and something of the spirit of his model yet survive.

Another place we visited was the Botanical Garden.  This garden had the plants arranged by function. All the medicinal plants were in one section.  All the poisonous plants were in another section. YUK!!! Appropriate enough in the land of the Borgias, I suppose.  There was a story garden which recreated the Secret Garden. There was too much to see it all but my favorite was the trees.  When you are a great prince and think your garden will last hundreds of years you can plant your trees twenty or thirty feet apart so they have room to grow and thrive for centuries and that is exactly what these grand old oaks, pines, and cypresses have done.  What a wonderful place. (This garden is maintained by the University of Florence as a teaching venue. -dt) Some pictures: https://flic.kr/s/aHsmhVuifv

Botanical Garden, Florence flic.kr Explore this photo album by dxterrible on Flickr!

One day when we were wandering down the street looking at  the windows we saw the workshop of a jeweler. We were talking about the equipment and the jewelry in the window when Stefano opened the door and invited us in.  His work was all original. We really liked it. Well there was one with a ginko leaf I especially liked and the rest is history. I can resist anything but temptation and Dan likes to spoil me.  (Stefano Alinari -dt)

On the other hand in Dan's case we went looking for trouble.  Dan knew of a pen shop and we went trying to find it. Unfortunately when we finally did they were closed for lunch.  When Dan returned he had a great time talking pens with the owners. He did come home with two pens he had not seen at home.  Ah well. (Casa della Stilografica; first rate -dt)

On Sunday we went to church in the Medici Basilica. (We think that is where we were -dt)  We knew what they were saying more or less, except for the sermon, an advantage for Catholics.  I ignored everything and admired the gorgeous old building, marble pillars, stained glass windows, statues, etc.  I did listen to the choir; they were all Korean but they sang beautifully in Italian. Go figure. I think it is a shame that there were very few attending this beautiful church.  Sigh. The priest - also Korean we think - thanked all the guests for coming and participating as best they could. Hmm.

After that we went to the Medici chapel, very fine I guess, but it was cold and dead, full of dead Medicis and old saints bones.  The bones were kept in elaborate gold and silver boxes. (and other artistic containers -dt) These are called reliquaries. If you had a plague you made a parade and marched a saint's  bones around the city singing and praying and hoped for a miracle; it was just the thing in the middle ages. I think Martin Luther made a thesis or two about this. By the way if you want to venerate a reliquary you kiss it.  I just thought you should know.

When Nick was little I used to read him a book about the 'Everything in the Whole Wide World Museum'. ( a Sesame Street book -dt) I think they were talking about the Uffizi Gallery.  For three or four hundred years the Medici family, who were incredibly rich, collected art with great passion. (The family lasted that long but their influence was a bit shorter. -dt) I got to choose and we concentrated on Michelangelo, Leonardo, Botticelli, and Caravaggio, but we saw a lot of other interesting works while we were looking for the rooms of these artists.  Of these I liked Bottichelli best especially the Birth of Venus.  The building itself is beautiful with frescoed ceilings, and painted ceilings and gilded great galleries with silk wallpaper.  I was overwhelmed by it all. When we got out I was exhausted and we could not find our little blue bus so we hired a horse carriage to take us back.  (We really did not look for the bus after she saw the horse carriage. -dt)

Oh Florence. We saw many other wonderful things.  But best of all was David.

More pictures:  https://www.flickr.com/gp/9151458@N07/3udfZK

Museums and Churches www.flickr.com Explore this photo album by dxterrible on Flickr!

At this stage Mrs.T said she was suffering writer's exhaustion and could not continue about Florence.  Suffice it to say we saw many other wonders there. Did you know there are about a half-dozen 'Last Suppers' there?  And the Bargello Museum has perhaps the finest sculpture collection in the world. Pictures of some other items in Florence:  https://flic.kr/s/aHsmhWrxYi

Florence Miscellany flic.kr Explore this photo album by dxterrible on Flickr!

Florence was indeed cultural overload - too much to see, too much to show.  The pictures herein barely scratch the surface but should give you an idea of what we saw.

As noted above, we are now in Venice, our last stop of this tour.  A report on that will come later.

Stay dry,

Dan and Rebecca

www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com

Casa de Terrible www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com We are still around. You may have thought we fell off the planet as we have not posted anything in quite a bit. But we are doing well at our winter home, mostly normal activities.

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Italy - Part Two

THE LAKE DISTRICT

Part One of our vacation in Italy had us off to a rocky start in Milan.  Things improved up at Lago Maggiore. Those of you who know Mrs.T well are aware of her love of flora.  As she tells below, she definitely was in her element in the Piedmont. The tour planner/editor made certain that there were plenty of opportunities for her to indulge her passion at each stop in his country of heritage.  

As you will surmise the stories trail our actual location a bit in time.  Wisely, days were left free to shop for food, wash clothes, and to prod The Muse into writing.  However, she is not the swiftest typist, and it also takes time to distribute our offerings. But if things keep on track you should have a good picture of our trip.

As the train rolled along the Italian landscape changed from flat to hilly and we were in the Piedmont.  Of course I was mostly sleeping as I do on trains. (Planes, trains, or automobiles, it doesn't matter -dt) These are the hills that lead up to the Italian Alps.  On fairly clear days you can see the tops of the snow covered Alps peeking over the lower hills. In some of the valleys are lakes most of which get their water from the melting glaciers.  This is the Lake District which many people think is the most beautiful part of Italy. In fact Queen Victoria used to come here for her vacations - as well as Churchill and lots of other famous people.  (Lido Palace Hotel in Baveno -dt) If it was good enough for the Queen it is good enough for me.

A lovely lady, Fiammetta, met us at the train station in Stresa to take us to our charming rooms in her home.  She and her father run a guest house in Carciano di Stresa. From our rooms on the ground floor we had views of Lake Maggiore and the hills. The rooms had very high ceilings, maybe 12 feet high.  The hugh embossed wooden furniture was maybe 8 feet high. (Things were high and tall but not quite that high and tall -dt) The curtains and couch were decorated with roses.

This whole town was a place of gardens.  All the houses had their own little gardens.  Many of the plants in bloom, such as rhododendrons and azaleas, were familiar to me.  They made swaths of color against the hillsides. Walls and arbors were blues with hanging wisteria.  Poppies of every color bordered paths dotting the stones with random beauty. Pansies in enthusiastic clumps froliced here and there.  I was enchanted.

Dan, however was slightly overwhelmed by me saying, "Look at this, look at that" constantly; he might have developed whiplash trying to follow my enthusiastic sightings.  Well the first thing we did was take a ferry out to Isola Bella. This was the palace and garden of the Dukes of Borromeo. The garden was terraced and a mostly formal garden complete with an amazing grotto full of lots of statues.  On the top was a unicorn prominently displayed because the unicorn was part of the family crest. There were lots of unicorn tapestries in the palace also. Pictures of a unicorn poking a lion with his horn. And a unicorn poking a leopard.  Not very encouraging if your crest was a lion or a leopard. A rather aggressive family these Borromeos. Evidently the Duke built the palace to upstage his brother who took the traditional family palace on another island. I'd say he probably succeeded. (The family included bankers and a cardinal who later was canonized.  The family still owns most of the islands -dt)

In addition to a lot of familiar plants were many I did not know.  There were strange lilies. The climate is odd in that a lot of subtropical plants grow there.  Giuseppe told me that sometimes it snows but it melts almost immediately and does not seem to hurt the flowers.  (There was snow not long before we came -dt) There were a lot of palms and such which grew well and also desert plants which needed to be in special gardens.  Among the formal gardens we saw lots of statues. White peacocks wandered down the paths. There were rows of orange and lemon trees on different terraces. Unfamiliar odors enticed me.  I loved the gardens! Dan asked me if I liked the gardens. Is the pope Catholic?

Our next expedition was supposed to be on a cable car (the funivia -dt) up the mountain (Mattarone, 1491m -dt) to see the alpine gardens. But it was cold and rainy and this did not seem like a good idea. (I did not miss it -dt)  So we went to visit the Botanical Garden (At Villa Taranto -dt).

As you wandered down the paths you heard different kinds of music playing in different areas.  There was the tulip maze, past its prime but still with literally thousands of tulips blooming around a contorted path.  (Originally there were 50000 tulips in the garden for April -dt) There was a Rhododendron Glen. There was a gathering of azaleas.  This garden was not formal at all. (Maybe not in the British sense but it was well organized -dt) Different arrangements of plants flowed up and down the hillsides.  And even more wonderful, from my point of view at least, many of them were labeled. There were what looked like palm trees with very hairy stems but I discovered these were tree ferns.  There were of course hundred of kinds of different flowers. I was in heaven.

From the Botanical Garden:  https://flic.kr/s/aHsmbeRzwy

Botanical Garden on Lake Maggiore flic.kr Explore this photo album by dxterrible on Flickr!

We rode home on the boat and caught a taxi back to our rooms.  Because of the loss of Dan's phone we could not call taxis. But our hosts generously drove us to the ferries and we were able to hail ones at the ferry stop.  We did enjoy hiking up and down the hills to visit the little grocery store, the pizzeria, and St. Blaise a lovely little church, all in our neighborhood. After a few lovely, peaceful, flower-filled days we were off to historical, political, artistic Florence.

Around Stresa and Isola Bella:  https://www.flickr.com/gp/9151458@N07/B494zS

Stresa and Isola Bella www.flickr.com Explore this photo album by dxterrible on Flickr!

As you will read later Florence is quite a bit different than Lago Maggiore.   We are having a good time in a different way. The woes of Milan are mostly behind us although the lack of a phone has hampered us a bit.  

Stay tuned.

Dan and Rebecca

www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com

Casa de Terrible www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com We are still around. You may have thought we fell off the planet as we have not posted anything in quite a bit. But we are doing well at our winter home, mostly normal activities.

Sent from Outlook