Austria to Pompei

Austria. Such a neat and tidy place. Do the folks that live here have a common aesthetic? No trash, no weeds. Even the emerald green fields are all cropped the same length. No long straggly grasses.

 

Vienna!

A freeway crunch getting here. Morning traffic. The GPS. A big help. We put the closest tram station to the city center into our GPS and found a place for our car close-by. Now we are ready to use easy public transportation in and out of the city. Hands down the most beautiful and interesting city yet. It is not ordinary. There is a lot of space for people, even cars. Wide roads. Wide pedestrian walk ways. Beautiful Baroque buildings everywhere, heavy embellishment, around every corner. It is the afternoon when we first step off the tram. It is not long before a salesman for concerts finds us. And like regular tourists we take the bait. Well, wouldn't you like to hear Mozart and Strauss in Vienna!? After walking the center of town we visit the Leopold Museum. This museum has the largest collection of Egon Shiele's work. It is thrilling to see. Klimt and many other excellent well known artists are also on exhibit.

Time to head to the concert. Hmmmmm. The music was good, just sort of rote, led by a female Andre Riu, smiling and playing her violin. You could tell that she had done this every night for a few years. The tourist groups were seated last and filled the beautiful little concert hall. They chatted and visited til the curtain went up...then again at intermission when they were offered champagne. It comes with the tour. I did enjoy the ballet...but, we will not buy tickets on the street again! 

The next day...more street wandering and sitting at an outdoor cafe. This is the part I like best, feeling the city vibrate. In our wanderings we find an art glass gallery. I am not a fan of glass. In fact, by now it bores me. Chilhuli and copies. But here, in this gallery, I would have bought had it not been so expensive and too heavy to ship home. The pieces are very diverse, created by glass artists from all over the world. It was a surprise treat.

We head toward the museum block. The Hapsburg Palace compound turned MuseumsQuarter. The Kunst museum is the most beautiful building I have been in. If you have money like the Hapsburgs, you can spend it how you please and it pleased them to decorate this Baroque building to the max. The most exciting part to me was to climb a scaffolding up into a dome area and see the Sessessionists, brothers Gustav and Ernest Klimt's, painted murals up close. There is something magic about being next to an original piece of art. Art done by someone you admire. From here we find our way to the Albertina museum. There are stairs leading to the main floor. On approaching them we did not realize these were stairs! Wildly painted colored stripes (Later I see the painting that inspired this). I hurried to see the Impressionists while David made his way to see a photo exhibit by American, Joel Sternfeld, a social commentary on America. David thought it was excellent.

Last day... Two more museums before we leave in the afternoon. These two are situated near our car. A short walk to the Upper Belvedere (once a prince's palace) which has the best collection of Gustav Klimt's work. The Kiss, Judith, The Embrace. All that gold and mosaic work that creeps into his work. I theorize that he was inspired by seeing all the religious art, icons etc...full of gold and mosaics. There are many early works of his in this exhibit that show his truly amazing skill at realism, both drawing and painting. Shiele is also represented here, and Van Gogh and Manet.

A couple of blocks further and we are at the 21 Contemporary museum and school. The architecture is modern and really well done...even featuring a delightful outdoor/indoor cafe which we take advantage of. The work on exhibit was not that good ...at least in our estimation. Maybe it just lacked in maturity. Three days here seems enough for now. Museums offer wonderful insights and inspiration but they are also exhausting. We should come back. There is so much more to see. This is what we missed: Hundertwasser. Museum of Modern Art. Sesession Building with Klimt's 30 meter long painting/interpretation of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony.

 

Our next stop was to be Salzburg but we could not bring ourselves to immediatly "do" another city. It is small roads, small towns and nature that we are longing for so we head to Hallstatt. But first we stop at a VW car dealer to get our oil changed. The wait was enjoyable. David and I and Margit Heigler, a local English teacher, sat with coffee in hand and discussed our countries, politics (she is an Obama fan like most Europeans), and capitalism. She sees the ugliness of capitalism creeping into their society. Greed.

 

Hallstatt! For those of you who like to watch Rick Steve's travel videos, you know this one. A beautiful little mountain town sitting on the edge of a lake. Actually totally surrounded by mountains. Most travelers would get off a train and catch a small ferry across the lake to this community. However, we came in our van through long long tunnels, underneath the mountains. We arrived in the afternoon and explored the town. Uphill we wind through canyon-like stone narrow streets. It is an "artsy" place, both shops and the homes /apartments ...stacked in hobit fashion, organically grown on top of each other leaving a huge variety of spaces to occupy. David and I get lost from each other. But how many streets can there be to get lost in? There is only one portal in and out of town that we know of. I wait on a bench by the quiet dark water. Swans are slowly paddling along the edge, their dusky white images seem to be floating on air. Once back together we decide that we will move on. We have seen and done enough to satisfy. We find a spot to park and sleep in the dark.

 

I wake to woods that remind me of the Canadian Group of Seven. The autumn sort, with leaves that dot the canvas. We drink coffee with chocolate in it and listen to Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue. Genius created everlasting music. And coming from the speakers all around us inside the van. A great way to start the day. From woods we go to tree-lined meadows and then ascend into the Austrian Alps. Rock peaks like the Grand Tietons. Fresh snow piled up on the north sides. Glaciers, waterfalls. This area is called the Grossglockner Hochalpenstrasse. Up steep-sided switchbacks akin to the Going to the Sun highway in Glacier National Park, USA. Huge cirques loom very close. David remarks that the view from this height is rather staggering! A roadster rally of neat little cars goes by. Some have their convertible tops down but the occupants are bedecked in hats, coats and scarves. Motorbikes roar by. They have their very own peak to climb. A pilgrimage for them. And bicycles. Strong bodies peddle like machines. They have been training for this. I notice altitude signs. 2,273 meters and climbing. At 2,504 I forget to keep track. The scene around us is seriously awesome!

Now we are descending. Alpine villages with inviting chalets. Larches, milky glacier colored rivers, tall church spires. Little hay barns are scattered over velveteen meadows. No need to bring the hay in from the fields. There are building yards here filled with wood planks. The wood decorates the cement chalets. Cut out patterns on eves and balconies. We stop in Leinz, a mountain town, and are sent by the Tourist Information Office to the Bruck Castle. What a find! It is full of fabulous art, mainly done by three local artists in the early 1900's. Albin Effer-Lienz (whose work we saw in Vienna), Alfons Walde and Werner Berg. I bought a book of the latter's work so I can take this inspiration home with me. Now it is hidden in the depths of the van somewhere not to surface until we come home!

 

 

THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:
>You can tell the difference between a painter and a "heavy hitter" painter right away. The message runs much deeper, the use of medium is better. The idea and the follow through work.
>There is a feeling of lightness-of-being in Austria.
>A car full of young people passed us. Thumbs up, big smiles and waves. It is that license plate of ours again. They love to think that Americans would be interested in traveling their country. By the way, I have a nice size Canadian flag stuck right next to the American license plate.
>I have to laugh. The inside of our van is bedecked with art postcards, black and white prints, paintings and art photos...and any 3D memoriabilia that will stick to the walls. It is beginning to look like the inside of an Orthodox church!
>Some folks live on the middle lands of the earth, others must be on the edge...mountains, sea and desert.
>It seems that most of Europe's people love Americans and the USA. Canada isn't mentioned as often...but we know that the world loves Canada!

More never-ending mountains. Lots of ski areas with lifts taking off from the town streets. We do find that often the snow is man-made these days. The terms machine snow and natural snow are used as if both are equal. We are now in the Italian Alps. Our first stop, Cortina. A rich person's ski town. On and into the Dolomites, white chalky mountains that are very beautiful in the mist. Down and out of the mountains, it looks like California. The town we stop in is Conegliane. It is Saturday night and all the stores are open. We look for WIFI and are not successful. Most countries make it so easy to find but Italy seems the exception. And nobody speaks English here. Well, that is what we are here for...to experience different cultures!

The freeway we are on is set up like other EU countries. If you receive money for the roads you must follow the EU rules. It does make it easier for us in the familiarity of driving from country to country. The rest stops are unlike what we are used to at home. They are commercial with gas stations and restaurants. Places for the truckers to stop, eat, get a shower and sleep. There are some restaurants that stretch across the freeways overhead, like bridges. They can be accessed by both freeway directions.

Manatova. Someone along the way has told us to come here. It is not in any guide books so we take the suggestion thinking that locals know best. It is small and old and has a history. It is walkable. There are some great squares to congregate in. People are promenading. It is wonderful entertainment. Beautiful Italian women, handsome men, dressed like celebrities. Well maybe they are? Five inch heels. Tight jeans. This town has Eutruscan and Roman beginnings around its three lakes. We visit the Ducal Palace (Palazzo Ducale). For much of its life it has belonged to the powerful Gonzaga family. The interior is beautifully turned into an exhibit of frescoes. At one point in this castles time, all the frescoes were plastered over and white washed as was the trend. Today we walk from one carefully uncovered painted wall section to the next, as if we were walking in a regular museum with paintings hanging. And above us, there are important bits and pieces of the old walls uncovered. Each room is so tastefully exposed. No furniture to pull your eyes away from those early paintings. I love the whitish finish over the paint...left over from plaster removal.

Let's walk some more. Out on this square, I kick a stone out of place...a cobblestone that has been there for so long! I bend to pick it up and put it back into place. As I straighten a come face to face with a man who is smiling at me, a little acknowledgement that he approves. I need a gelato. I always need a gelato. David abstains. There is music everywhere we turn. A classic harp. Panpipes from the Andes. A brass quartet playing wonderful strong harmonies. We enter a small private art gallery. The work in here is good. Rocco, the owner, is about to leave for Oregon to set up one of his artist's exhibit there. He is talkative and very friendly and offers to show us, on our map, places that he loves. Places like Montova, small with ambience.

Another eye to eye encounter. Two old women are struggling to get a young girl's wheelchair over a curb. I move to help. The girl is hunched over but manages to turn her head my way. She does not speak but her eyes say that she is grateful and my smile says I am grateful, too.

 

Sienna. We are to meet our friend Deb. We do not know the name of her hotel but have arranged with her to call us. No word. Hmmmm? How will this play out? Silly me, my phone was put on vibration from being at the concert in Vienna. Until I put it in my pocket, I did not get her call, the 4th call! So now we know where to find her. There she is! Her dear little self waving at us. She is short, cute and she would like to have you know that she has blond naturally curly hair. Deb is a former English teacher, editor, retired UCC minister who now makes liturgical banners and stoles. She chose to visit Siena and Asissi once again. For us it is our first Italian hill town.

We all get settled in our hotel and then follow Deb to the famous Campo central square where we find a table with a view at the top of this sloped gathering place. This is where everything happens. In fact, once a year there are horse races held where we are sitting, on the flat walking/eating place surrounding the large "round square". Dirt and sand is brought in and the 17 Siena neighborhoods choose a horse and rider to represent them. The winning neighborhood celebrates all year! Well, we missed that spectacle but we are happy where we are. No sand and dirt but in a front row seat anyway. We order a drink and some nibbles. Swish! The white tablecloth is removed! In an hour and a half when we order dinner, swish, the white starched tablecloth is back on the table. I guess we have to eat to deserve the elegance! We eat and talk and laugh....for four hours! Heading back to the hotel in the dark of night but through gayly lit streets, we are drawn in by the shops that we will surely visit tomorrow. What is it about a hill town that is so inticing?

After a good hotel breakfast, we head up the hill and enter some of those shops. The leather purses are irresisitable. Italian style. Deb leaves with a dark blue sort of squished bucket with pink accents and lining. I leave with a small plain black leather purse with 3 zips and a strap I can wear diagonally across my body. Now my camera and phone have a safe home. A birthday gift from Deb.

THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:

>Lots of graffiti along the way. A much better quality than I am used to seeing. Not that I think it is fair to use the property of someone else to display your work...but as it is, some of it is very good. It even has some social comment to it. A space for young artists to show their work. I photograph close-ups of bits and pieces of it.

>Van height. 1.96 meters. Sometimes we cannot go underground to parking spaces. We see many colored scrapes on the cement garage ceilings.

>I love the fact that inside a non-descript grey building there is often a surprise. Lace curtains are the hint from the outside; inside... beautiful old furniture, carpets, books, lamps. Sort of like people, there most often is an unknown beauty inside.

 

We have our map which takes us up hill through the much loved stone streets. We shop at a ceramic shop, run by a most charming older lady. It is fun to deal with her. David and I only wish for some of her large decorated plates. Too heavy and expensive to ship home, too large to store in the van. But, Deb satisfies our need by buying a sweet Italian painted plate and bowl for her home. It is yummy stuff, so irresistable. She has a fabulous wood/chalet type home, decorated with her chosen travel pieces and other great objects. Her home decor leans toward folk... so comfortably so. Spiritual folk. Shopping with her always satisfies my own needs!

 

We daddle and gawk and finally come to the Duomo (Cathedral). I am so surprised by its bold black and white striped exterior. The stripes seem such a modern look, so....our time. Dark green/black marble stacked on the white. Thick, fat stripes. It is powerful. But this was created in 1215! Inside, it is jam-packed with art, starting with sculptures by Bernini and Michelangelo. The floors are outrageous. Usually they are covered with carpet, but this month the carpet is rolled up for visitors to enjoy the mosaics. We have our own Reverend Rose with us to comment on the stories, illustrated in colored mosiacs. There are symbols and meanings we would surely miss...and of course we miss much of it anyway. There is a side library dedicated to a Siena favorite. Piccolini. He became Pope Pius II.

Back through the streets. Gelatos, shops, lunch. David leads. I am lost. We will see a few more things in the morning before we head to Assisi.

 

The Pinacoteca Art Museum is one of two things we choose to do. The other, the Church of San Dominico. In the Pinacoteca we see the progression of art from Gothic to Rennaisance. I pay an extra small fee to use my camera. This is heaven on earth for me. Wonderful elegant pieces. I begin to shoot faces of Mary. Faces that speak to me. Each artist has a different take on what this Lady might look like. We all find so much richness in our wanderings. Deb tells David about the meanings of many paintings. I can hear their back and forth chatter as I move about looking for images for my lens. It is an excellent museum that I would go through again.

The Church of San DomInico. This church is where you will find tributes to St. Catherine. She is the Patron Saint of Siena because she persuaded Pope Gregory XI to move the Papacy from Avignon back to Rome. (Her thumb and head can be observed in this church!) In this otherwise very plain interior, the 17 district flags hang, softening both noise and the visual experience.

 

Asissi! The home of that dear humble Saint Francis, friend of nature, animals...all creation. His message: Slow down, let go of materialism. He taught by example. As a boy, Francesco Bernardone was a soldier and was captured by the Perugians. During his one year in prison he became the person we all know about. His counterpart was Saint Clare. She was an 18 year old rich girl when she sneaked away from her parent's home to meet Saint Francis, who welcomed her into the order. He cut her hair and gave her the simple robes of a monk. She began the order of Poor Clares.

 

We are here at this time because it is the celebration of the Feast of Saint Francis. Deb has reserved a hotel room very near the main square, Piazza del Comune. In the early evening of our first day we settle ourselves at a table in the square for a snack and wine. Loud, very intentional drumming begins up the hill. Unexpected by us, the celebration has begun! A procession, lead by the drummers, enters the square. Medieval Lords and Ladies, cross-bow soldiers, a flag team, women dancers in pastel flowing robes. A crowd forms so we join them with our wine glasses in hand. This show is put on to please the Lords and Ladies, as it would have been in the medieval times. The dancers dance, the flag team throws flags to each other, high in the air, the drummers march in patterns...we whistle and applaud! There is a cross-bow exhibition, a forger, a printmaker, a coin stamper. This is the fun part of the celebration. Tomorrow will be more serious.

 

At 8:30 in the morning, we three meet at Piazza del Comune, where Deb is enjoying a breakfast of coffee and pastry. We are expecting to join the people in their march to the Basilica of Saint Francis which should start at the clocks ring of nine. Dignitaries gather. They are suited up in their best. Wide ribbon emblem banners diagonally cross their chests. The clock bongs out nine times... but nothing happens. We wait until 10:00 when all participants are gathered. Clock strikes 10:00, a bugel sounds and everyone is off. The common people (like us) stand at the side. The dignitaries start, then the Lords and Ladies, jr. and sr., the cross-bow soldiers, the drummers, the flag holders, the dancers and the school children! Down the cobbled street, it is a ways to the Bascilica. Deb is long gone! She wants a front row seat to see the service offered today. We begin to walk alongside the children until we are close to the front of the procession. We want a good seat, too!

 

But when we arrive at the front of the church we are not welcomed in. We do not have any proof that we have been invited to attend. Deb is outraged. "St. Francis would not have stood for this! He stood for the common people." There is a very small old nun in front of me. Her anxious but still hopeful face is hard to watch. She is not allowed through the temporary guard gates either. There is a rumor that there is room in the lower level. A large screen shows the service that is going on in the sanctuary. We make our way down and find there are no seats. Standing room only. We watch for awhile, but to David and I the ritual has no meaning. Deb makes contact, at the Bascilica Information office, with a man from the US who is about to become a monk in the Franciscan Order. They have a long discussion and she leaves feeling a bit better about this issue. It is hard. She has come a long way to be part of it. Let's take a break back at the square.

 

In the afternoon we decide that maybe now we will be able to view the Basilica and visit the site of the burial place of St.Francis. We choose an archway on the square to be our contact place in case we get lost from each other then start back down the hill. The shops along the way are inticing, calling us in to browse. It is here that I get separated from David and Deb. I turn around and they are gone. After waiting 45 minutes where I think they will see me, I head back to the appointed archway. Nobody there. Oh well. I will have a good afternoon anyway. I will check back later. I find a photo shop to replace my 16 mg memory stick which has completed its duty. Now I am off to see a couple of museums and take some serious pictures! The first is an archeological museum...underground..parts of a Roman road, temple and bits and pieces of gathered relics. It is a bit hard to grasp, but still worth some photos of Roman decoration. Then, further down the street, the Pinacoteca Museum. 13 to 17 century frescoes. A crumbling madonna by Giotto. A quiet place that would not interest most. My camera loved it.

A few of the stores interest me. Beautiful pottery, especially some uniquely painted tiles. Scarves are always a problem with me. Lush colors and designs. Buy me, buy me! Clothing shops, fun and gorgeous, but window shopping is as far as I get. Maybe I should check the archway once again. Yes, there is Deb. David has gone to see if I am in the van. Not an easy task. It is down some streets and stairs, some escalators that only work going up, down another street to the elevator to our car which is beneath the city. We wait at the arch. He is gone a long time and admits to getting lost. But here we are together again. Now we can begin our search for the most inviting dinner restaurant. They are all hidden in back streets. We look at menues. Is there anything to interest us? Is it cozy? Ambience, with just the perfect lighting? We find the best...we are seated under a a huge tree, the branches over us like an arbor. Lights catch the leaves as they move in a breeze. Yes, this is perfect. The food? I know it was Italian good, but it was the tree that lifted our spirits.

 

With prior arrangements the next morning we are to pick up Deb at the archway. But, this is day three of the Feast Celebration and there is a huge market blocking all the streets. We have no choice but to park underground once more and take the elevator, escalator, stairs and streets to find our friend. We leave today. Asissi has indeed proved its praise.

Now what? We all decide that we would like to travel down the east coast of Italy. Less people, beautiful coast, maybe a little more relaxed. We will come back north along the more popular Amalfi coast. We drive under three mountains and through 28 tunnels to get to our stop on the coast. Giulinova. A summer resort town, palm trees, long sand beaches, wide sidewalks and lots of parking. The weather is still comfortably warm. Deb's hotel room has a view to the aqua sea. Even our parked van has a seaside home. This is the Adriatic. The beach is irresistable. Shoes in hand we walk in the sand to the edge where the lapping waves are gentle and wadeable...and warm. On the horizon we see a multitude of white dots which we assume are fishingboats...they are still visable when darkness falls. And at this time, the community and its visitors begin the nightly ritual, walking or bicycling along the strand.

 

In the morning we join Deb for coffee at outdoor tables outside her hotel. Great conversation ensues with a Philadelphia family at the next table. Carol and Bill and their daughter Janet. It continues through until lunch time!

David works on the computer. Deb and I make lunch in the van and take it to the beach where we find a couple of stray chairs to sit on and eat our picnic. Close by there are men playing cards in their usual beach hideout. Deb makes up a story about them as we eat. She is good at it and believes her own stories!

 

Beyond the sea, east over the Adriatic, are the coasts of Croatia and Albania. Who would ever think we would be here? Not us! They are places we hear about on the radio or read about in good thick novels. Again, I am so thankful that we made this step to travel extensively.

 

This experience is much different than that of hill towns. We relax. We do not have to chase and find sites written about in guide books. We eat seafood. Lick gelatos. Walk. Snooze. Morning coffees. Evening wine. And stay an extra day!

 

It is Sunday. The coast south is waiting for us. Today, 15 tunnels to Viest. This town is on the outside edge of what looks like a spur on the Italian boot. It does not feel like a resort, even though it has an aqua sea and a long sandy beach where Deb gets settled into a hotel. We walk to the city center which sits on top of a high white limestone cliff. We are just in time to walk in the evening promenade, down the main street to the sea and back up the other side. It is fun being part of the action. We choose a cafe for a light dinner and the parade continues in front of us until we are ready for some time in our "homes" before bed.

 

Monday morning we are off again. It is an impressive drive today. Sometimes we are high above the sea, sometimes low with the water shining beside us. Some plants, their foliage and flowers, are not recognizable to us. Large bushes, almost trees, with either white or red pink blossoms. Also, small ground clusters of tiny mixed red, orange and yellow flowers. Why do I aways want to know their names?

I smell fermentation in the air. Someone is making wine! Flat ground. Vineyards everywhere. Ahead looms a roadside sign. FASHION DISTRICT AHEAD... where could that possibly be? We are in the midst of olive trees, that pretty silvery grey foliage on a lovely shaped tree and prickly pear cactus in bloom. Stone huts appear in the near-by fields, more and more of them. Round, with low roofs. No mortar, dry-built. A few years ago we saw similar in the hills of France, 11th Century shepherd huts. Here is an old old olive orchard. The trunks are huge and twisted and have separated to form a hollow area inside.   Next town down the coast is Otranto. Another sweet seaside town. Each one I remember so fondly. Each has something different to offer a traveler. Deb finds a hotel in the middle of the town activity and we enjoy a bottle of wine on her balcony while she entertains us to tears with stories of her first year of teaching high school. Here is one: There was a particularly lazy boy in her class. He did not participate, always put his head down on his desk. She did not know how to change this. While out of her classroom she heard some of the kids talking...one calling the other a turd. TURD? Never heard that word?? She came to the conclusion that it must be a short form of TURTLE. One day in class she had had enough of this boy's indifference and laziness. Out of her mouth came..."Mike, you TURD! SIT UP!" The classroom went silent in shock. Did their teacher really say TURD?!! Well Mike immediately bolted upright, saucer-eyed. He never slumped over his desk again. (Of course the student's name is ficticious and the words are mine, retold. I am sure it is not as funny as Deb's telling. You should know that Deb was an innocent rookie teacher, coming from a very unworldly upbringing in a smallish town. I can tell you though, that she has overcomed this unworldliness!)   Otranto has a small river flowing into the sea at its center. There is a large piazza here, on the edge of the sea with walkways coming and going. Cafes and businesses line the town side of this square. I take advantage of a photo shop and have four CDs made from my first camera memory stick. 16 GB worth. I would be devastated if I lost those images...my inspiration for some great paintings! Already they are falling into categories. THE SURFACES OF EUROPE * FACES OF MARY * GRAFFITI CLOSE-UPS * DECORATION*   Behind the square is a Basilica famous for its mosiac floors which illustrate Heaven on one side, Hell on the other and in the middle, the kingdom of animals. Behind the main altar are skeleton heads and bones carefully stacked into a pattern behind glass. At first I thought that they were beautiful William Morris hanging fabrics! These bones are those of the martyrs who refused to convert. I am glad that I did not live in this time of fearful religions. Ghastly imagery built on guilt and fear. The art itself can be well done, even beautiful, but what it stands for is not in my realm of worship. Two men are swimming across the bay, back and forth, many times. I wonder what they are training for? Perhaps a longer swim? To Greece or Albania? Our camper is parked next to the bay. A brisk sea, waves in our ears to sleep by. Time is looming when Deb must leave us so we cut across the high heel of the boot to Gallipoli but only have time to see it from the windows of the van. We are more anxious to spend some time in Manduria where someone has tipped us off that great wine is made there. We find a winery to taste the fruits of these local vineyards. A very large company, making two million bottles a year. It is a family endeavor first started 50 years earlier by the grandfather, then passed to the father and now the son and daughter run it. We taste about six wines and leave with a case of some very delicious favorites that we enjoy for many days.   Moving on to Taranto, which is on the Taranto Gulf between the heel and the toe of the boot, facing the Ionian Sea. This is a very large industrial town. Steel, Oil, Cement. There are Evergreen container ships waiting in the bay, a familiar name to the B.C,/ Washington coast. Chinese. Huge blocks of apartments stand in the outskirts, on tram or undergroung lines ready to whisk the commuters to their jobs. We are looking for Deb's Best Western Hotel but we are in a bad storm. Wind and rain and dusk. The rain is so heavy that it appears like fog in front of us. Scary. We do find the hotel and a place for the van and through the night the storm continues. Webs of lightening. Crashes of thunder. Hard rain. But it only enhances the coziness in our camper bed. Deb has talked to the receptionists in the hotel and they have told her that before we leave this area, we must visit Martina Franca and Alberobello. So we head to the former first. It does not feel like a place of worth as we enter but as usual our first impressions are fransformed. Always the old town awaits us. This is the site of the very best of baroque decoration/architecture. We find a place to park and cannot find the parking meter. Soon a young man comes to us with a time-stamped parking ticket...he will collect on it when we return. In place of meters, these city employees are everywhere in the city, patrolling the streets. A few blocks away is what we came for. After visiting the Information center we follow a self-walk map though Old Town. First on the list, the Ducal palace. Lots of frescoes but as Deb says, the artist is definately not Michelangelo. Still, often the primitive or folk flavor is the charm. On exiting, we are on a large square. The map leads us into the tiny cobbled streets, through smaller piazzas. Buildings are painted white. Appartments are perched lopsidedly on top of others. Laundry hangs, colors against the white. Short streets go nowhere. Long streets twist and wind until we are unsure of where we really are. But! The examples of Baroque are certainly everywhere. Happy sculpted children carrying flowers. Men and women portrayed in merriment. Clear, clean, well crafted white art. Ribbons, flowers, decoration. A walk to remember vividly. The town is closed down for its two hour siesta but the tinkle of glass or silverware on plates and conversation and laughter comes from small discreet restaurants and private open windows. In the closed shop windows there are beautiful clothes and shoes displayed. Jewelry, leather...all fine Italian design and make. This has been a good stop...BUT...   AlBEROBELLO! You must come to Alberobello. First I will tell you about the Trulli, amazing little structures ...dry stone huts of the countryside are pressed together to become a town. The Count who ruled this district, decreed that no more building be done without paying taxes, thus the Trulli owners were prepared to knock these dry stacked stone dwellings down for royal inspections and rebuild them when the inspector was done! There are 400 trulli in this part of the city and 1000 more in another part. Drywall, white-washed and plastered inside and out, they are still lived in! What an amazing beautiful community! Something out of fairy tales. The round shape, of different diameters, is built to the ceiling height then is brought inward to form a cone. The cone is left with rock exposed which makes the designs even more appealing. On the top there are short spires with a family emblem or symbol perched on top. Some stone roofs have large white symbols painted on them also. No one is really sure who built these! They are fun and irresistable. The insides are bright and clean and simple. To make more room for a family they simply add another trullo right on to the original. Some were even tall enough to have a second floor. One was set up like a museum. Baking ovens, butter churns, soup pots and ladels, looms, hanging herbs...anything one needs to make a house a home. So you live within circles and cones. Well Deb could not resist and bought herself a night inside one. Adorable interior with bath. She said that she had her best sleep yet.   The town itself is small and welcoming. We eat a wonderful meal on the square in the evening. For me, Portobello mushroom pasta with a lovely white sauce and a salad with the very best (and very expensive) balsemic vinegar. Around the square there are lace-like white snowflake structures standing very tall. We can see that Christmas lights are still attached. The holiday season must be breathtaking here. Such spirit in the town.   In the morning we are surprised to see a market set up both in the square and down the hill a few steps. Lots of lovely things to look at. The locals seem to buy their jeans here...and shirts, sweaters, tunic tops. Deb finds fabric for a new table cloth. David and I are invited to vote on some choices. Some of you will see this fabulous fabric while eating at her table. She finds a scarf that looks great with her red-pink shirt while David and I are off at the food market buying cheeses, meats and produce. We loved this town! There were plenty of English speakers here...Americans (Bo and Julie from Ohi) and Canadians (8 cyclists from Ontario).   Once again we are on our way, this time toward the west coast. We pass through a town where homes were built into the caves. Olive trees are ready to drop their fruit and huge nets have been placed on the ground to catch them. Most towns we see on this route sit atop steep hills where enemies could be seen coming from a long way. Craggy mountains show in the near distance behind closer cliff-faced mountains. The weather is changing. Spots of sun sneak through the dark clouds that roll over the great heights.   We reach Amalfi in the evening and begin to look for a hotel. We pass through a hopping busy town center which is perched on the steep hillside. After an encounter at a very snooty upscale hotel, we put hotel Bristol in our GPS and take a carnival ride...straight down, straight up a very steep grade. The hotel is perfect. David and I find our "lodgings" by the side of a busy road.   The Amalfi coast...Scary! Funny! Wild! We drive from Amalfi to Positano, south to north and then to Sorrento. Don't look down! Look to the right .... at the canyons moving up to the mountain tops. There is no getting away from it...both sides are steep. Hard rain. We pass mosaic and ceramic shops. Someone has made little houses that sit on the uphill rocks, like a toy village. At least we are traveling on the inside lane. Stairs lead up into the woods. Stairs lead down to communities. Lots of tunnels and overhanging rock. Buses! How do those drivers do it? Around sharp skinny corners. On the edge of nothingness? Taxis, like cats, seem to stretch to fit through any space. Motorcycles weaving in and out. Even a few bicyclists and runners! Crazy people? Or do they all have an extra traffic sense that we have not tapped into...though David has certainly honed his driving and parking skills.   Lunch stop on a high promentory, looking back on where we have been. Provaloni and proscuito on fresh brown bread. Cut up peach and orange for dessert. Good red wine. We are sitting in the car eating. Thunder and lightening. What a sight! We forge ahead.   THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS: >Piano. Here it has a different meaning. level, plain, like a floor. >I have not thought much about differences in language before...having only French in High School. Many of us use the same alphabet. Same sounds can be made using completely different letter combinations, in Slovenia....č = ch, Ljubljana...j means y..Lyublyana for example.....or combinations that we have never tried to say like our new friend Zdenka. Try saying that! But that sound is really not too different than "st" in still. >Cars rule! Park on the curb or up on the sidewalk....just don't hem anyone in! Sorrento. Deb is in the Dania hotel, again overlooking the sea. We have wine on the terrace before we drive to a neighborhood to set up for dinner for the three of us in the van. This is a good example of two different lifestyles we are practising! And it works wonderfully! We find a parking lot in which to stay the night. Miraculously it is flat. In the morning we watch the locals coming and going. Nobody seems to pay for parking except the few of us who don't belong here. Many of the people seem to have little bags with them... something is inside. They return fairly quickly, no bag in hand. A day of Italian tradition? Maybe religious? We pick up Deb and find a travel agent. She needs to set up for her trip home, flights and hotels. We give that job to a very competent lady who books it all and we are free to have some more fun. We are on our way to Pompeii! But....Deb refuses to believe that our GPS will take us there. She is having great difficulty trusting it. (And sometimes I can't blame her!) She somehow entices two police officers to take us! "Follow us!" they say.